The Thief by Bonnie Dee

Author:Bonnie Dee [Dee, Bonnie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Temptation lurked in every coat pocket, every handbag left unprotected, and every piece of silver cutlery in gleaming place settings on the white cloth-covered tables. Jody’s fingers tingled from his desire to nick an item or two, which could be sold in New York, providing a bigger nest egg than he currently possessed. Ah, but then the point of his new beginning would be lost, wouldn’t it? He’d left London to reinvent himself as an upright citizen. If he didn’t prove now he could leave his thieving ways behind, it wouldn’t grow any easier due to a change of location.

It would be safest for him to return to the lower deck, put away his best suit of clothing, and avoid the enticements rubbing shoulders with the upper class provided. But meals in the grand dining room with its crystal chandeliers and uniformed waiters were so superior to the slop served below, Jody couldn’t bear to stop going up top for dinner. With so many half-empty tables, their occupants moaning in their berths, there was plenty of space for an interloper. Tonight, Jody occupied the seat of Mr. Reginald Owen, as the card above his plate proclaimed in gilt script. There was no one at the table to challenge his identity.

His belly comfortably full of beef Wellington and his crystal goblet full of wine, Jody toasted the success of another fine meal. He scanned the beautifully appointed dining room, admiring the luxury a first-class ticket afforded.

A wall of mirrors at one end extended the room’s length. Studying the well-clad diners reflected there, Jody froze. His throat constricted, and he coughed the wine back into the glass. He blindly set his goblet on the table without breaking eye contact with the man in the mirror. The music and murmur of voices in the room receded until only the pair of them existed.

Slowly, Jody turned from the reflection to find Cyril Belmont sitting only a half dozen tables away with a spoon poised over his cherries jubilee. His dinner companion continued to talk, apparently not noticing she had lost his attention.

The meal in Jody’s belly turned to lead. He felt as ill as the pathetic passengers stricken by seasickness. The sight of Belmont was such a shock, he feared he might faint like a lady in a too-tight corset. Of all the bloody ships in the entire White Star line, what were the odds Belmont would be traveling on Celtic?

Jody rose from his seat and started toward the doors leading to the gallery. Belmont could choose to follow him or not.

Of course he will. He must be as astounded by this coincidence as I. Or he presumes I booked the same ship in order to hound him. If so, he must think me mad.

In the grand lounge, a number of people strolled or sat, conversing in groups or duos. Some clustered near a piano, enjoying classical music, which flowed from the pianist’s fingertips. In darker recesses sheltered by potted palms, shipboard romances bloomed.

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