find you have made a wise decision. We will dine out this evening. Vauxhall Gardens. Wear something festive. I do not wish to see you in mourning. Red, I think. And the rubies.’
A scarlet woman, she thought.
‘When we have had supper, I will return here, to spend the rest of the night. Tell your maid that we are not to be disturbed.’
He rose, reaching for his hat. ‘And, Constance…?’
‘Yes, Lord Barton?’
‘From now on, you will call me Jack. And when I take my leave, you will kiss me as if you mean it.’
He stood in the doorway, waiting.
And she stepped close to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him as if a life depended on it.
Tony dropped into the wing chair in his study, staring pensively into the fire before him. He was not moved to work on the lock, though he knew he must. He wanted nothing more than to sit in the gathering darkness, alone, for the rest of his life, if need be. Would that the end were not too distant.
Patrick, sensing his mood, brought the tray with the brandy.
Tony poured a snifter for himself and waved the rest away. ‘It is over,’ he said.
‘How so?’
‘I have proposed to her, and she has refused.’
‘This is most sudden.’
‘It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. She hid from me, when I tried to visit her. And when I found her in the garden, she was crying. Patrick, I was defenceless. It seems that other men are offering for her in ways that are less than honourable, and she longs for matrimony. I offered my services in that department, and they were firmly declined.’
‘Even after she knew who you were?’
‘The matter of my identity did not come up,’ Tony muttered.
‘Did not…’ Patrick sank into the wing chair on the opposite side of the fire, and poured himself a glass of his master’s brandy. ‘You expected her to take you, sight unseen, on a very limited acquaintance, and are surprised that she turned you down.’
‘She seemed willing to accept many other gentlemen, with little previous acquaintance, as long as they had money or position. And before I offered, I gave her a fair description of our childhood together. There were enough clues that, had she cared to, she could have seen the truth.
‘But it does not matter, whether she knows me or not. It is the reason she gave, not the denial itself that creates the problem. She said she could not marry a thief.’
Patrick shrugged and sipped his brandy. ‘Then the answer is simple. If you want the girl, stop stealing.’
‘There is the little detail of ten years of crime.’
Patrick waved his hand. ‘Immaterial to the discussion. How much have you personally profited from it?’
Tony considered. ‘Very little. When I began I had a small inheritance, and I invested it well. But it was in no way enough to support the family. So I stole. And since I enjoyed stealing, I continued. But my own money is still there, should I choose to retire.’
‘So you did not steal for yourself. You stole for others. And when you steal now?’
‘There is really no cause for it, other than to cover the activities I perform for Stanton.’
‘So you are, in effect, stealing for the Crown,’ Patrick reasoned.
‘I cannot very well tell her that, though, can I? It defeats the purpose of covert activities, if one goes trumpeting them about the neighbourhood.’
‘But you are not exactly trumpeting about the neighbourhood, if you reveal the truth to one person. Or do you not trust her to keep a confidence?’
He glared at Patrick. ‘I would trust her with my life. I already have. For she knows the truth about me, and has had the power to ruin me for several weeks. If she wished me ill, she had but to say something before now, to see me carted off to Newgate.’
‘Then reveal the better part of your occupation, since you have revealed the worst and not come to ill. Along with your true name and history, of course,’ Patrick added.
There was an annoying emphasis on the last bit of advice, and Tony chose to ignore it. ‘Perhaps when I have run Barton to ground…There are risks involved. He is a dangerous man, if Stanton is to be believed.’
‘All the more reason to tell her the whole truth, since she was involved with him before you entered the picture. It is the curate in you speaking again, sir. Humility does you no credit when you are using it to mask cowardice. And that is what it is. While you think nothing of staring death in the face while attempting a burglary, you stick at speaking the truth to Constance Townley since you are convinced that, once she knows who you are, she will reject you. But since she has already done that, sir, the worst is over.’
Tony readied a response, and then checked himself. What did he have to lose, after all, in telling her everything? ‘Much as it pains me to have a valet who continually points out my stupidity, you are right again, Patrick. It can be no more dangerous to her than it was at the beginning, when Stanton believed her an accomplice in treason. And whatever she thinks of me, I cannot let her go blundering about, where she might thwart my schemes, or put her own freedom at risk by inadvertently aiding Barton in his plans.’
And if revealing his reason for robbing Barton raised her estimation of him? He could not help smiling at the thought.
Tony knocked firmly on the front door of Constance’s house, hoping for better results in the evening than he had achieved in the afternoon. He had spent an embarrassingly long time on his toilet. His boots were polished to mirror brightness, his coat was fresh from Weston. His cravat was sublime. He had forced Patrick to shave him so close that he suspected he was missing a layer of skin, but his cheek was soft.
He hoped to be able to demonstrate the fact to Constance later in the evening.
She would be home, of course. He knew for a fact that there were no balls, soirées, or musicales of any value that evening—if there had been, he’d have been invited to them. His original plan had been for a quiet evening at home with a glass of port and his new safe, until he realised that Constance would be having a quiet evening at home as well. He had rehearsed his speech in his head, willing himself to stick to the plan and not be dazzled by the fineness of her eyes or the nearness of her lips. He would find her, and beg an audience. She would entertain him in the sitting room and they would chat casually of things that had nothing to do with Barton or her financial state.
He would make it clear over the course of the evening that his interest had nothing to do with the business of the deed, and everything to do with the high esteem in which he held her. In which any sane and decent man could not help but hold her.
He would explain his current interest in Barton, his present occupation and the relative safety
