Page 20 of Stolen By the Rogue
A tight smile appeared on her lips. “Pork is forbidden by the Quran, and I haven’t eaten it since I was a child. And even if I did eat it, today is a holy day; it would not be respectful of me to go back to the Ottoman embassy after having partaken. So, I must politely decline.”
George inwardly sighed. Jane Scott was not only intelligent and beautiful, but she had a moral compass. She had honor and dignity.
He pushed his plate away, no longer able to face his food. If he had a soul to feed, it would already be stuffed full to the brim with shame.
* * *
At the end of the evening, a grim-faced George escorted Jane out into Grosvenor Street and to the Steele family carriage. He opened the door, then held out his hand to her.
She didn’t take it. “Thank you for this evening, George. I had a lovely time. Your friends are wonderful people.”
When he gave an almost absent-minded nod in response to her words, Jane reached for George’s arm.
“You have been in a dour mood for the best part of an hour. Did I say something wrong?” she said.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“It’s not you; it’s me. You were perfect this evening, Jane. But I am not feeling the best. I suspect I am coming down with something.”
That explains why he didn’t finish his meal.
“Is there anything I can do?” she offered.
George shook his head. “No, thank you. Just go home.”
Jane dampened her disappointment over the way the evening was ending. Her hopes for a good night kiss or two evaporated at hearing George’s lackluster words.
“If you are still unwell tomorrow, then send word. I am sure we can survive one night without seeing one another. I hope a good night’s sleep restores you.”
After climbing into the carriage, Jane waited for George to close the door.
He stood gazing at the pavement for a moment, then finally lifted his head and met her gaze. “Good night, Jane,” he said, and pushed the door shut. He turned and walked straight back into the house.
As the carriage pulled away from the side of the street, Jane stared at George’s retreating form. A hollow sensation sat in her stomach.
Why did that sound like goodbye?
Chapter Twelve
George stopped a few hundred yards short of the Ottoman embassy and sat his ass on the step of a closed drapery shop. Twice already on the way over from Argyle Street, he had almost given up and gone home.
It was one of the few times in his long and dishonorable career as a master thief that he found himself having second thoughts about a job. Serious second thoughts.
With hands clenched tightly into fists, he grappled with the decision that was before him. His life could fundamentally change on the toss of a coin.
If he backed away from stealing the crown, he had a chance at a future with Jane. He could openly offer her his heart. She wouldn’t have to go back to being a governess.
“No, she would be the wife of a near penniless second son of a judge. A man who handles stolen goods for a living,” he muttered.
He could just imagine how well that would go down with her.
If Jane had any sense, she would get on that ship and go back to Constantinople along with Baldwin’s crown. She would be safe from a blackguard like me.
But if he screwed his courage to the sticking place and went through with snatching the ancient jeweled treasure, he could finally get out from under his life of thievery and disgrace. He would still never be able to look his father fully in the eye, but he could follow in Harry’s footsteps and turn over a new leaf.
He got to his feet, brushing off the dust from the back of his jacket.
“I don’t deserve a good, honest woman like Jane Scott. I am a criminal through and through.”
