Lady Thief by Kay Hooper Page A

the carriage to the door of Lady Beddington’s house. Halfway up the steps, he said suddenly, “I think that Nick knows who the Cat is.”
    Jenny stumbled, and would have fallen without the Beau’s firm grip on her elbow. She murmured some excuse and wondered what, in God’s name, she had done to offend the Fates that they should torment her so.
    Brummell looked concerned. “Miss Courtenay, I do hope you are feeling more the thing tomorrow.”
    “I—am sure that I shall, Mr. Brummell.”
    “Good night, Miss Courtenay.” He bowed.
    “Good night, Mr. Brummell—and thank you.” She smiled at him, opened the door, and went inside. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Jenny leaned back against it and wondered if she were going mad. In a detached manner, she considered the possibility. It wouldn’t surprise her a bit if she ended her days in Bedlam.
    After a moment’s thought, she felt slightly cheered, however. Brummell, at least, had not guessed her secret. She smiled rather wearily to herself and headed toward the stairs—and a well-earned rest.
     
     
    Brummell directed his coachman to take him to his rooms, climbed inside the carriage, and began to laugh softly. He felt no sense of compunction at having taken shameless advantage of Miss Courtenay’s nervous tension. The truth was that he had not enjoyed himself so much in years.
    There were those among the ton who claimed, not without reason, that Beau Brummell’s sense of humor was more malicious than mischievous. He was famous—or infamous—for creating situations which became vilely uncomfortable for all involved, and then leaving his victims to shift for themselves. Needless to say, he had made many enemies.
    However, such was his power that even his enemies dared not raise their voices against him. By the mere lift of an expressive eyebrow, he could forever blight the hopes of any aspirant to society. He was a close friend of the Regent, and since it was commonly believed that the old king could not last much longer, many people maintained that Brummell would soon become the power behind the throne.
    There was, however, a side to the Beau that very few members of the ton had ever seen. To those he cared about, he was a good and loyal friend, who could be counted on not to make mischief when the case was serious.
    Brummell had liked Jennifer Courtenay from the first moment he saw her, and he had neither the desire, nor the intention of disclosing his suspicions to society. He was well aware that the disclosure—even if he were wrong—would brand her as an outcast.
    His plans for her were somewhat involved, but he had no desire to ruin her. In fact, he had every intention of helping her in whatever way he could. For one thing, he was certain that she and Spencer would be perfect for one another. But he had no intention of poking his finger into that particular pie. Spencer was well able to handle his own love life.
    He could, however, make Jenny’s social appearances a little less trying. If he professed himself bored with the subject of the Cat, society would quickly follow his lead. Jenny would not be forced to endure another night like this one.
    That, at least, he could do for her. Brummell frowned slightly as he realized that he would have to dance attendance on the Regent for the next day or two. He felt irritated as he realized also that he would most probably be absent when Jenny and Spencer first met.
    Well, it could not be helped. He had no wish to offend the Prince; he might possibly need the royal goodwill at a later date. If Jennifer Courtenay was the Cat, her name would have to be cleared sooner or later.
    He could be wrong, of course, but he did not think so. He was an excellent judge of people. Besides, there was no other logical reason to account for her extreme tension this evening, nor her deathly pallor at the mention of Spencer’s name. She certainly did not want to meet Spencer.
    Brummell wondered about that. He had an