Page 28 of Thief Taker

Nevertheless, there was a certain lightness in his step as he grabbed an empty tray and made his way upstairs, into the crush of the party. It was considerably less debauched than the rout at Curzon Street, but the excesses of food and drink on the supper tables still appalled him. There were a few card tables set out in one of the smaller rooms and dancing in one of the larger. Amused by the thought of Duvall dancing a jig, Elias moved in that direction, collecting discarded glasses on his tray as he went. But there was no sign of Duvall among the ladies, which wasn’t entirely a surprise.

Although gents like Duvall didn’t have Elias’s freedom, he was reasonably certain they shared similar interests. Duvall possessed a lingering warmth in his eye that Elias had grown to recognise over the years.

Too bad Elias was posing as the man’s valet while searching for evidence to send his brother to the gallows…

No, when it came to Duvall, all Elias could do was look. And, unfortunately for his own tranquillity, undress the man at night.

It was a rotten kind of tease.

Leaving the dancing, he headed back through the supper room and had finally caught sight of Duvall, in deep conversation with a matronly woman and her daughter, when a commotion arose in the doorway. There was a great deal of pushing and shoving into position, a great many scraping bows, and then Viscount Rowsley strode into the room with Marlborough at his shoulder and a dozen hangers-on in their wake.

Elias did his best to melt into the wallpaper as the two men and their entourage swept through the supper room towards the card tables. He tried to scrutinise the faces of those buzzing around them, but these weren’t his people. Drop him into any alehouse from Spitalfields to Clerkenwell and he’d know almost every face of note. But here…? Here he’d have to rely on Duvall.

The thought drew his eyes to the other side of the room. Duvall was watching his brother intently, his brow drawn into a frown and his lips pressed together.

Then, abruptly, his eyes were on Elias, widening in surprise. The unexpected moment of connection—like recognising a friend in a crowd—made Elias smile. And then Duvall smiled, too. Not much, just a subtle curve of his lips, but enough to make Elias turn away in case somebody noticed. It was a strange moment, exciting and dangerous.

Luckily, another furore broke out just at that moment.

A short, stout man bustled into the room, his eyes wild and his face red with anger. Curious, Elias moved to follow him as he charged after Rowsley, but was stopped by a touch on his arm.

“Cole.”

It was Duvall. His eyes darted from his brother back to Elias. “We should go,” he said quietly.

“But your brother—”

He shot another glance at the knot of men around Rowsley and the newcomer. “He won’t be staying long.”

In the card room, the commotion continued apace—the short man gesticulated, Marlborough exclaimed in outrage, and Rowsley yawned. “What’s going on in there?”

Duvall glanced at the room. “That’s Sir Gideon Osborne. He’s been one of my brother’s intimates for a couple of years—possessed of an enormous fortune and a bilious disposition. But what’s interesting is the man standing behind Marlborough, the quiet man in the expensive coat? Do you see him?”

Elias looked. “Interesting how?”

“That’s Tobias Salter.” Duvall’s hand tightened on Elias’s elbow, sending little sparks of awareness across his skin despite the layers of linen and wool. “Go now. Meet me at the corner of Hill Street and I’ll tell you more.”

With that, he walked away, the crowd parting and reforming around him. Elias watched until Duvall had left the room and only then realised that his heart was pounding.

He doubted it had much to do with Tobias Salter.

Chapter 10

Kit threw on his greatcoat, not waiting for the footman to help him, and left Marlborough’s house as fast as possible. He’d stayed for almost half an hour and talked to a dozen people, including the hostess. It was enough to establish a clean account of himself for the evening.

Now he needed the walk, needed cold air on his face to cool the heat under his skin. The unexpected sight of Cole in the supper room had tipped something over inside him, spilling thoughts and feelings he’d believed contained. He’d felt genuine pleasure in seeing him, a genuine tug in the pit of his stomach.

Followed by a kind of horror at his own weakness.

But all of that had been overtaken by stark fear when Osborne barrelled into the room full of fury and outrage. Kit had imagined he’d go straight to his town house to recover from the shock of the robbery, but he’d underestimated the man’s determination to reach the gaming tables. It was only a matter of moments before the name Wessex was on everybody’s lips and he’d known that he couldn’t be there to hear it. He was always careful, but what if Osborne recognised some detail about him when his recollections were so fresh? The risk was too high.

He let out a breath, which fogged around him as he strode towards Hill Street.

He and Hartwell had parted quietly after the raid on Osborne’s coach, but the sting of their argument hadn’t faded. Mostly because he was afraid his partner was right, that he was playing a dangerous game with Cole. His situation was perilous enough and the last thing he needed was a further complication. But what else could he do? Cole had placed himself into Kit’s life, and Kit must make the best of it.

Tonight, at least, would help throw Cole off the scent.

When he reached Hill Street, Cole was already waiting. Without his livery, and with his greatcoat on against the cold, he could have been any other gentleman. And when he turned around, a quick grin lighting his face, Kit’s stomach tightened ominously.