Free Anne Stuart by Prince of Swords Page B

correct. His code of honor, his sense of morality, was elastic indeed, nonexistent to most observers. But to him it was clear: One didn’t rob those who couldn’t afford it and didn’t deserve it. He was interested in relieving only some of the wealthier, less pleasant members of society of their extraneous gewgaws. The same sort of people who’d had no qualms about helping his brother James in his downward spiral of drink and ruinous gaming.
    Not that anything as noble as revenge lay behind Alistair’s little journey into a life of crime. He preferred to think it was caused by nothing more than a combination of financial necessity and boredom.
    That, however, precluded robbing innocent, pleasant women of their jewelry. He’d been forced to go to great lengths to return the young Duchess of Denver’s pink pearl necklace. It was far from her most valuable piece, and her older husband could afford to replace it by the gross, but he discovered it had been given to her by her now-deceased mother, and the loss of it had sent the pretty young duchess into absolute despair.
    He’d found the return even more challenging than the actual taking, and for a brief while he’d considered returning all the baubles he’d stolen. Practicality had soon taken hold though. Most of the stuff had already been converted into cash and spent. And besides, most of them didn’t deserve to have it returned.
    Miss Beauchamp had been a different matter. The gaudy Beauchamp diamonds were well known, and her father, Sir Reginald, had been one of Alistair’s brother’s chief cronies.
    Together they’d gone through their various fortunes, with Sir Reginald following James in death at a discreet interval. Alistair had considered the diamonds fair game and only fitting recompense, until he discovered that they were simply all Miss Beauchamp and her mother had left of the once-notable Beauchamp fortune. And she had no idea that the magnificent things were a glass-and-paste substitute.
    Alistair’s amusement at having been gulled into stealing worthless baubles had paled when it came to the Beauchamps’ despair. Returning them had been simple enough, done with the help of Nicodemus Bottom’s expert assistance. Replacing the false gems with real ones had proven more difficult, but Alistair had been up to the challenge. And the Beauchamps had never realized their recovered jewels had once been totally worthless.
    It was during that incident that Alistair had discovered his alternative form of thievery. The Beauchamps could not afford to entertain, and there was simply no way Alistair could casually find his way to the upper floors of the house, short of seducing Miss Beauchamp. And while that notion was far from repugnant, she was in love with a young lordling who adored her, and Alistair allowed himself enough sentiment to keep from putting a rub in the way of their upcoming nuptials.
    Nicodemus and his cohorts had been more than helpful. Close-fitting black clothes, a moonless night, and a certain agility in scaling fences, buildings, and windows were all that it took.
    He nearly broke his blasted neck the first time he tried it. By the third time, he achieved the fastness of Miss Beauchamp’s virgin bedroom, tucked the refurbished diamonds into a spot where they’d be likely to be discovered with just the right amount of difficulty, and made his escape, feeling well pleased with himself. Like a black cat, he’d scaled the London rooftops, the moonless night overhead, and felt cool and free with ties to no one and nothing.
    It was by far the way he preferred his reiving. There were times he simply took to the rooftops with no aim in mind. Tonight, however, he knew exactly where he was going. First to the Renfields’ town house. The servants would be abed, the large and graceful rubies would be in Lady Barbara’s jewelry box. If by any chance she’d decided to wear her ornate rubies to the less formal ridotto he knew they were attending,