The Devil's Thief by Samantha Kane Page B

Apparently his newest bout of
moral degradation knew no bounds.
    Alasdair
glanced over at Hil, who was giving him an expectant look. “It appears as if
several of the people here this evening were also at my reception,” he ventured
hesitantly. He was rewarded by a smile from Hil. So, he had one more clue to
Hil’s master plan. He tried to surreptitiously look around the room again,
picking out the familiar faces. He really was no good at this. He’d been forced
to pay more attention to the physical appearance of strange women over the past
two days than he’d ever expended in his life.
    “Oh,
yes,” Lady Linville agreed. “We were just discussing that with my stepdaughter.
It seems one is always running into the same people wherever one goes, doesn’t
it, Julianna?”
    *           *           *
    Julianna
was frantic. She’d managed to maneuver her father and stepmother into the far
corner of the room early on in the evening. It had been quite a feat to get in
unnoticed. When she had seen Alasdair standing off to the side as she and her
parents waited to greet their host and hostess, she’d made a hasty excuse and
fled to the retiring room. When she emerged, her parents had already greeted Sir
Hilary and Alasdair, who had been busy talking with new guests, and she’d
slipped into the drawing room and worked her way over here. She’d thought she
was safe. Over the years she had developed the ability to blend into the
background when necessary. Most people overlooked her ordinary appearance and
she tended to listen rather than speak.
    What
was Alasdair doing here? She’d noticed Sir Hilary at his reception the other
night, but there had been a great many people there. She’d had no idea the two
were such bosom beaus.
    As
she hid in her corner and hungrily watched Alasdair—half wishing he’d
find her and half terrified he would—she noticed something awful,
something horrifying. All the young ladies here looked like her. And Sir Hilary
and Alasdair were making a point of speaking to each one. He was looking for
her. And he was going to find her. There was no way to escape without alerting
her father and stepmother.
    Then
Sir Hilary spotted her father and made his way over to them and she thought her
heart would jump right through her throat.
    Why?
Why now? She had the money. She hadn’t been able to slip away and meet with the
solicitor yet. But Alasdair wouldn’t want the money. He’d want the pearl. As
soon as he spotted her, he would denounce her. Her father would be ruined.
She’d be treated as a common thief. The children would be turned out of the
foundling home and sent to some overcrowded orphanage, or worse.
    Blood
pounding in her ears, she shrank back into the shadows of the corner, nearly
slipping behind the curtains of a nearby window. Every instinct she had was
telling her to run. But she was rooted to the spot, watching her doom approach
on impossibly long, muscular legs, his wonderful blond curls artfully mussed,
his eyes narrowed dangerously as he scanned the room. He was magnificent. He
was awful. He was going to kill her.
    Suddenly
Alasdair and Sir Hilary were standing before them and Julianna could feel Sir
Hilary’s gaze burning into her. She stood as still as a statue, trying as hard
as she could not to be noticed. And Alasdair didn’t notice her. He wasn’t even aware of her presence. Relief
coursed through her as he exchanged empty pleasantries with her stepmother. But
that relief was short lived, quickly replaced by anger. How could he fail to
notice her? How could he not see through this silly wallflower disguise of hers
to his Juliet underneath? She berated her own foolishness. It was best this
way. He must surely hate her now. Why would she wish to lose her anonymity now,
when it could cost her so dearly?
    She was a fool, fool, fool . Because she would give anything for one smile from him.
    “It
seems one is always running into the same people wherever one