The Gentleman's Thief (Resurrectionist Book 2) Read online

  The

  Gentleman’s

  Thief

  Resurrectionist #2

  Isobel Starling

  www.decentfellowspress.com

  Copyright © 2020 Isobel Starling

  ISBN: 9798649090612

  ASIN: B089665XVZ

  First Edition:

  All rights reserved worldwide. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except for the purposes of reviews. The reviewer may quote brief passages for the review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblance between characters and any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The use of real-life locations is for fictional purposes. The plot, actions, and characters in this work are fictional and in no way reflect real-life occurrences at these establishments.

  The Gentleman Thief, Copyright © 2020 Isobel Starling

  Cover Art Design by Isobel Starling

  Many thanks to my family for their love and support

  Praise for Isobel Starling

  “Oh my gosh, this was a hyperintense erotic read. It's highly seductive. The eroticism dripped everywhere. It crackled with sensual electricity. But damn it made me cry and I never wanted it to end. This is what I call 'intense and sensual'” Review for “Silken” by Truus on Amazon

  ****

  “It has heat and sweetness, danger and anger, and a bad guy you can really scowl at. Hard. And mean. And then simper with joy at the lovebirds he detests. Ha! This is the type of series that has you back talking the characters. Out loud. And only being embarrassed that they ignored you. It fills you up until you're bubbly with the feels it pulls from within you.” Review of Shatterproof Bond Series Boxset by Paisley Rowan on Amazon

  ____

  “I found myself simply mesmerized by the exchange of words as Sam and Declan make the true depth of their feelings known. You can’t help but be moved by it, and I felt like my heart would just explode with the power of Sam and Declan’s love and devotion. I can’t wait for the next adventure; this series really has me hooked!” Review of “Return to Zero” by Carra, Making it Happen Book blog

  ****

  Contents

  Chapter 1 The Unexpected Guest

  Chapter 2 The Book

  Chapter 3 The Assignment

  Chapter 4 Coincidences

  Chapter 5 The Athenaeum

  Chapter 6 Behind Closed Doors

  Chapter 7 The Silver Fish

  Chapter 8 Esoteric Occurrences

  Chapter 9 The Growler

  Chapter 10 Fratres Seminis

  Chapter 11 Gentleman’s Relish

  Chapter 12 The Vessel

  Chapter 13 Confessions of a Thief

  Chapter 14 An Invitation

  Chapter 15 Exeter Hall

  Chapter 16 Cavendish Ball

  Chapter 17 Observations of a Thief

  Chapter 18 Scandalous Behaviour

  Chapter 19 The Vanishing

  Chapter 20 Domesticity

  Chapter 21 The Betrayer

  Chapter 22 Duplicity

  Chapter 23 Paramour

  Chapter 24 Darkest Secrets

  About the Author

  The Unexpected Guest

  Tuesday 28th December 1897

  There was a beggar on my doorstep. He wore a seaman’s felt cap and sported a thick grey beard. One eye appeared to be blackened as if it had recently met a fist. Two lines of brass buttons shone on his black moth-eaten greatcoat, and I noted three spaces where buttons were absent. The coat was made for a man much taller because it near touched the slushy pavement. The beggar held a timber crutch under one arm on which he leaned heavily, and looking down I saw that he appeared to be missing half of his left leg and wore just one single boot. The boot on his right foot was separating from the sole and it was clear that the melting seasonal snow had leaked in as he’d hobbled through the square to my doorstep.

  Clarence carriages and hansom cabs passed by, the horses trotting warily and wheels crunching in the frozen slush on the road outside my house at number twenty-six Bedford Square, Fitzrovia, London. Residents in their seasonal finery took the winter air as they walked cautiously in the once verdant garden opposite my house. The larger trees had lost their leaves and appeared skeletal and yet the garden designer had ensured that evergreen shrubs and smaller trees gave year-round colour to the communal space.

  No one who passed by my house paid much attention to the beggar at my door. But I did. I most certainly did! My stomach turned somersaults and my heart thundered, not with anger, like my housekeeper Mrs. Twigg, who moments before had opened the front door to discover the beggar and proceeded to batter him with her broom. I had relieved her of that broom, requested tea, and a plate of her exceptional sweet mince pies to be rid of her, and allow me to deal with this situation alone.

  I looked at the actor before me and could not believe the effervescent giddy pleasure swirling in my gut. I was bemused that Sebastian Cavell, master-thief and, I blush to think of it; my secret lover was on my stoop dressed in the guise of Josiah, a beggar who I’d befriended months before I knew his true identity.

  It was six days since our first tryst in a Glasgow hotel room. I’d found myself snowbound after a disastrous journey to a Scottish Estate sale that I discovered, all too late, I was barred from bidding at. I remained vexed that I had been lured to Dunecht Hall as a ruse to assist my ex-paramour Lord Euan Ardmillan with schemes to not only defraud buyers of art and antiquities, but Euan had also wanted me to perform a sex ritual with him to restore his flagging virility.

  I was warned of Euan’s true intentions by a mysterious stranger. I believed this man to be a German collector named Artur Engles, as he was the man I’d dined with that very evening, but after the man lured me to the chilly attic to speak with me in private, he introduced himself as Sebastian Cavell. Cavell was a name I recognized from scandalous newspaper headlines. I discovered that in real-life Cavell was the rather comely gentleman thief who had twisted the Police force in knots as they attempted to discover his true identity and whereabouts. This thief was at Dunecht Hall for reasons of his own. Cavell had explained what he’d discovered of Euan’s plans, which—not wanting to doubt my ex-lover, I had initially not believed, but everything Cavell told me was true.

  I’d left the highland mansion furious, disappointed, and empty-handed to then find the damnable weather had brought the whole British Railway system to a grinding halt and I was unable to journey back to London.

  I took a room at the hotel adjoining Glasgow Central Railway Station and this is where Cavell sought me out. There he had unexpectedly revealed his admiration for me and that—I feel embarrassed to think of it—I was the prize he had wanted to steal from Euan and not any of the antiquities.

  Reluctantly, I succumbed to my long-repressed desires to lay with a man and we’d shared quite an exceptional night in one another’s arms. The solitary night of passion with this man of mystery changed me in ways that I was still discovering. Cavell had jested that I was buttoned-up and pious, but his care and tenderness most certainly unfastened my buttons!

  On my train journey home I did not read the Bible to avoid eye contact, as was my habit in shared compartments, instead, I stared out of the window and let my thoughts linger on Sebastian Cavell, his scent still on my skin and his taste on my lips.

  With the passing of time, I wondered if our liaison had really happened
for it felt like another man’s life. But no, the disguised man on my stoop wore a playful intimate twinkle in his hazel eyes that I knew was all for me. Meeting that penetrating gaze made me shiver and feel younger than my fifty years.

  I came back to myself and in my sober mind remembered my place and my station. This was an affluent square in Bloomsbury and if spotted, beggars were chased away by the caretakers who tended the gardens and ensured our square remained free of riff-raff. I did not want either Alfred or George to set their eyes on Josiah as it would be the worst for him. No matter how secretly overjoyed I was to see Cavell, common sense must prevail. I was suddenly overcome with the need to get this man off the street and into my house so I could speak with him privately.

  “Spare a coppa for an old soldier?” Josiah said in his salt-of-the-earth Cockney brogue.

  “Actually, yes, but you can earn it man! I have a grate that requires blacking. Don’t dally on the doorstep! Let’s get you through to the kitchen.” I said loudly so that any who overheard knew I was inviting this vagrant into my plush home for legitimate reasons.

  Josiah leaned heavily on his crutch, hobbled up the step, and over the threshold. I closed the door behind him.

  “What the devil are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?” I asked in a rough whisper.

  Sebastian let out a mighty sigh. He sagged against the wall, dropped the crutch, and fiddled beneath the greatcoat. A black ribbon that was fastened around the thigh and calf of his bent left leg was untied, releasing the leg from its bond. His left foot hit my tiled floor heavily and Sebastian reached out and gripped my shoulder. Ordinarily, I did not like to be touched, but Cavell somehow breached my defenses and I did not feel the overwhelming rush of anxiety and flaying pain to my skin when he touched me. Cavell put weight on his newly released foot, and let out a near orgasmic moan of pain. He stared at me, his eyes large and glazed. He looked as if he were in the midst of an Opium high.

  “There’s… quite a rush of sensation…” He gasped as I reached out to steady him,

  “As the blood returns to the leg…it’s quite exciting actually, the pain…the pleasure…mingle.” He explained, his fingers digging into the meat of my shoulder. Beneath my jacket, my skin tingled at his touch and my mouth went dry with seeing his glazed expression and hearing the explanation. I absently licked my lips. Did Cavell have a fetish for restraint? Oh, Gods, I could not allow myself to think of it. It was shameful enough to have allowed myself to be intimate with this man, and I dare not consider other ways we could find release together.

  To my great relief, Cavell loosened his grip on me and put all of his weight on his left leg, bent it the knee, and stamped a few times. Then, to ensure correct perambulation he took several steps up and down the hall. Satisfied, he leaned against my stair banisters and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes.

  “Would you mind awfully if I took a hot bath and relieved you of some clothing, dear heart?” He asked sweetly. Cavell had done the very same thing in my Glasgow hotel room. If any other man had asked I would have been appalled and found the question to be the height of impropriety, however, I could not refuse him. The garments he wore for his disguise of Josiah were quite repulsive and I knew that under that shaggy false beard were lips I ached to kiss. Not that I would permit such a thing to occur.

  “My gentleman’s gentleman is about town about his business,” I said. “Let’s get you upstairs before Mrs. Twigg sees you. She would be horrified that I’d allowed a vagrant to lay even one foot on her newly polished floor.”

  I hid the wooden crutch in the under stair cupboard and then headed for the staircase. The binding of his leg for the disguise had made Sebastian limp somewhat so again, I permitted this man to touch me. It was unusual to say the least, as my obsessive aversion to intimacy was ordinarily so severe that even my valet had learned to assist me in dressing without a glancing touch. I could not abide crowds, and even when attending church I left home at the last minute so I could be seated at the back or stand in the doorway if the service was particularly popular. Closeness to this strange man elicited a frisson of excitement. What was it about Cavell that made my skin sing, and not burn?

  Awkwardly, I wrapped my arm around Sebastian’s slender waist and he gripped my shoulder. I set my mouth into a hard line as I did not want him to get any ideas. We shared a side glance and I saw the lopsided grin on his face. Immediately, I knew that pretending to be stoic was useless. My heart fluttered like I held a caged bird within, and my cheeks bloomed with heat. This man knew me in a way that all in my church saw as a sin. This man had kissed and licked me in places that I did not know I could obtain pleasure from. I should feel ashamed. I should fear for my immortal soul as this devil had returned to my life, flaunting temptation before my eyes. But as I held him warmly to my side I did not feel the wave of shame that usually followed when touching a stranger. What I felt was a rush of flighty pleasure, and like a child with a secret; I felt an impulsive need to laugh out loud. Cavell allowed me to take his weight and he pressed tenderly to my side. We loped up the staircase together to the communal bathroom with a bathtub.

  My Georgian townhouse on Bedford Square is spacious and comfortable. There are a total of eight bedrooms. On the first floor, the master suite with adjoining private lounge and bathroom is mine. There is also a second bathroom on the same floor. I employ five servants. Mr. Wilkins, my houseman, retains private quarters in the basement. My valet, Mr. Troy sleeps on the second floor. Mrs. Twigg and the maids, Ann-Marie and Maud, keep rooms in the attic. Therefore, five bedrooms are available for guests. They remain unused for most of the year as the only guests I ever allow in my home are my sister Gracie, her husband Henry, and their brood of six children.

  I left Cavell to bathe and I headed to my wardrobes seeking suitable garments for him to wear. He was close to my size and so I rummaged to find a navy Henry Poole suit that was of last season’s cut, a white linen shirt, a Robin’s-egg-blue cravat, thick woolen socks, and a pair black of leather John Lobb boots that were a little worn and had been set aside to be re-soled. They were nothing to compare with Cavell’s very distinctive Edwin Clapp boots, but as he was not wearing them for the Josiah disguise my old boots would have to suffice.

  I left the garments on the couch in my lounge and after locking the adjoining door that led to my bedroom, I stood on the landing feeling a little lightheaded and perplexed at having an unexpected guest—and not just any guest. Even though I’d wished for it, I had not expected to see Sebastian Cavell again. Why had he appeared at my door? Not that I was complaining! But I remained confused as to how the man knew my address when I did not give it to him, and why the Josiah disguise was even necessary. Cavell had admitted during a previous conversation that he had been watching me for six months prior to our official meeting in Scotland and as of yet he had not explained his reasoning for doing so.

  My profession as an auctioneer means that by nature I am quite the magpie. My home is filled with all kinds of curiosities, fine art, and silver that I purchase for myself rather than sell at my auction house. I retain two maids to ensure my collections remain dust-free through daily cleaning. The one collection my maids do not dust is of phallic art. I own a wondrous collection of ancient sculpted phalluses that remain hidden in a room secreted behind the bookcase in my bed-chamber. The room was once a dressing room and as none of my current servants was in my employ when I purchased and decorated the townhouse no one knows of the existence of my secret room. Not even Sebastian Cavell knew of the true extent of my collection and so I did not believe Cavell was here for thievery. But why was he here?

  I stepped to the closed bathroom door and stood listening to him splashing in the tub and humming a jolly tune. I was startled when he began to sing. I could not place the song, which was music hall in variety, but his voice did something to my innards and made my knees weak. The thought of him naked in the bath behind this sturdy timber door, his freckled skin wet and glistening as he san
g, oh Lord, how that pleased me. I was unsure of what to do with myself, and then I heard the loud bang of the kitchen door and Sebastian’s song ceased at once. I realized Mr. Troy had returned from his errands. I knocked lightly on the bathroom door and called to Cavell,

  “I’ve left garments in my private lounge and you should join me downstairs in my study when you’re dressed.”

  “Righty-oh!” Sebastian called back, sounding rather relaxed and pleased with himself.

  The Book

  This could not be happening! Agitated, I paced back and forth in front of the hearth, a-million-and-one thoughts about what Sebastian Cavell wanted with me swimming in my head. I think most men would be irritated if a person they had enjoyed one single night of illicit relations with suddenly turned up on their doorstep. What was he doing here? Was I being taken for a complete fool? Cavell could be robbing my rooms this very minute as I waited for him?

  It was then that I doubted my sanity for letting a criminal into my home and was unsure of how to behave in his presence. He had a way about him I could not fathom. All it took was a look, his eyes glittering with a challenge or a smile that promised delicious wicked thing and my innards melted. He knew far too much about me and what I desired. I concluded that Sebastian Cavell was indeed a very dangerous man. One remark about my sinful nature to the wrong person could lead to banishment from my church and a loss of status. No matter how kindly I felt towards him it would be reckless to allow this man any further into my life and my affections. I must be imperturbable. Yes, I decided, I must remember myself—remember the pious, detached… miserable man that I was before I journeyed to Scotland. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed deeply. This was a disaster. What was I to do? A single knock on my study door interrupted my storm of self-doubt.