Free Thick as Thieves by Catherine Gayle Page A

responsible for its presence, at the very least he’d drawn it back to the forefront from wherever it might have been in hiding.
    Lady Frederica Bexley-Smythe was not the sort of woman he could kiss and forget about, even if such a woman existed— but whether he’d made a pact with his old school chums or not, he couldn’t marry her.
    She might not be a thief, like he’d thought she would become, but how could he trust she wouldn’t stab him with a fire poker or do something equally horrifying?
    The longer he stood there looking at her, the more he wanted to kiss her again and more…something he couldn’t do without either losing his honor or taking her to the altar.
    Instead, he had to take her back to the house. Now.
    The maid who’d come with them was conveniently looking in the opposite direction, though, so maybe she wouldn’t say anything about what had taken place. There was one tiny blessing in the whole sordid ordeal.
    This wouldn’t do. Preston put a reasonable distance between himself and Lady Frederica again and held out his arm for her to take. When she did, her brown eyes filled with confusion, he turned them around and started back towards the main house.
    He needed to get her talking again, about something dry and dull and boring. The first thing which came to mind was to renew their discussion of the flaws in Gauss’s proof.
    He was as surprised, therefore, when instead he asked, “Where is Stalbridge spending his holiday?”
    Why on earth did he ask her that? Talking about her brother had been what led him to kiss her in the first place. She had looked so careworn when she spoke of the ne’er-do-well lout, like she could never come out from under the weight of his mistakes. It had brought out Preston’s protective instincts in a way he hadn’t been expecting.
    He had enough other people in his life who were in need of his protection. He didn’t need to add another.
    “I could not say,” Lady Frederica said solemnly. Some of the light had gone out from her eyes, and she seemed suddenly distant. “The last Mama or I heard from him was in a letter from my sister Mattie, when he was in Scarborough for a brief visit this summer.”
    “You have not seen him at all? He hasn’t written to you?” Preston was aghast at the thought. He corresponded with his sisters at least once a fortnight , usually far more often than that, and he visited with each of them as often as was possible. “How has he seen to your care?”
    Mistreatment, in any its many forms, was something he could never bear to see.
    Stalbridge had certainly neglected his sisters and mother, based not only on the fact that he was absent from their lives, but also on what Rachel had learned from Lady Stalbridge before inviting them for Christmas. But how far had the neglect gone? And—heaven forbid—what if he had been right about Lady Frederica thinking of stealing some of those jewels? Had Stalbridge’s delinquency fallen to such great depths that she would become so desperate? Would she steal to aid her brother?
    Preston could think of no other reason for her to even dream of such a thing. She was a gently bred lady. She knew right from wrong. There was no denying that Stalbridge had fallen very low. The only question was how low.
    Now Preston thought he had a much better idea of the answer to that question.
    She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I do not think this is something I ought to speak with you about, my lord. It is a family matter.”
    Her soft words only confirmed what he already believed to be true.
    Damnation .
    “Of course, you’re right,” he murmured.
    The snow crunched beneath their feet as they slowly made their way out from the arbor and back towards the main house. Preston was at a loss as to what he ought to do about his newfound knowledge.
    Clearly, something must be done about Stalbridge, before his sister resorted to thievery or before she and her mother and sister were forced to leave