Free Much Ado About Rogues by Kasey Michaels Page A

child still laughed. And yet her world was crumbling around her. She had to concentrate. Jack still spoke matter-of-factly, a man of no emotion. She’d always marveled at the way his mind worked. So coolly analytical. He’d figured something out in his head, and he had a plan. A plan that included removing Jacques from the manor house. Not from her, please God, but the house itself. “I…I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
    “No, it doesn’t. But they worked together for well over a decade, remember. There may have been some bond between student and pupil, some honor among thieves. Either that, or the Gypsy promised to never come after the collection while Sinjon still lived, and in return, Sinjon promised to never come after the Gypsy. Only the two of them know how or why they came to the arrangement, and why they abide by it.”
    “Papa always has a reason with a hook in it,” Tess agreed, wondering where Jack’s deductions had led him. “There’s a hook somewhere that’s kept the Gypsy away.”
    “True enough. There could be many reasons. Of the two possibilities I’ve been able to come up with so far, I think the latter makes more sense. There is no honor among thieves. But your father didn’t like the terms anymore, not once he’d found me, once he felt sure I’d fall in with his plans to begin enlarging his collection again. So he tried to eliminate the Gypsy in Whitechapel. For that error in judgment, he paid with his son’s life.”
    “Oh, God,” Tess said quietly.
    “I don’t think God enters anywhere into this particular equation. Your father’s monster left his card on René’s chest. Sinjon somehow acknowledged the punishment, and they went back to their original agreement. Except that after a four-year absence, the Gypsy’s calling cards are back in England, announcing his return, and your father’s gone after him again. If he fails this time, the Gypsy might decide to come after the collection now, or to teach Sinjon another lesson. Either way, my son is not to be involved, because he’s not going to be here. He goes to Blackthorn today.”
    “ Our son, and his name is Jacques.” Tess felt her hands drawing up into fists. “Besides, this is all simply assumption on your part. Everything you’ve said since you came here has been conjecture, assumption. Everything you’ve told me could be a lie. Everything!”
    She was like a drowning seaman clasping at bits of floating straw, and she knew it. But he was using what he knew to take her son from her.
    “You’re right, Tess. Everything I said could be a lie. Or I could be wrong, straight down the line, and your father’s a damn saint and is simply having himself a lark in London for no apparent reason.” He looked to Jacques once more. “But are you willing to risk our son’s life on that? I’m not.”
    “Then he goes to London, with us.” As Tess heard her own words she marveled at what she’d just admitted. Her father was a thief. Her father, if he failed, could be risking the life of his grandson. And her life…but she couldn’t be sure her father had considered her. Had she sunk that far, did she now think so little of her own father? Yes. God help her, yes. She had one objective now, one concern, and that was for Jacques. She’d risk everything, dare anything, to keep him safe, even if at the end of the day that meant losing him to Jack. Her father had sent Jack to them, hadn’t he, simply by disappearing…
    Jacques took that moment to approach Jack with the ball held out between his hands. “Frow?”
    It was fate. It was the hand of God. It was the dice, just this once, being thrown in her favor. Did it matter what it was, as long as Jack was now looking down at his son with his heart in his eyes?
    “Throw, Jacques, not frow. Please throw the ball with me. Veuillez jeter la boule avec moi. ” She would risk everything, dare anything. “Please throw the ball with me, Papa.”
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