The Dashing Thief of Her Dreams Read online

  In her mind, she had just experienced what she knew many writers referred to as the ‘inciting incident’ in many of the novels that she loved. A handsome burglar had broken into her house and she, standing in nothing more than her nightgown with her long, blonde hair cascading down her back, had confronted him.

  He’d been confident and daring, and when he noticed her he’d said something that denoted he wasn’t afraid of partaking in a risk-taking scenario like this one. She couldn’t see much of him, but she didn’t need to: she knew that under all that black attire was a strapping, handsome young man. And his eyes... his eyes! What a wonder they had been to behold.

  Bridget knew that she could not continue on down this line of thinking; it would do her no good. She shook her head to break the spell the man had cast over her, for she remembered that this was real life, not a story. Or was it? She suddenly remembered that she had believed all of this to be nothing more than a dream, and so she took her arm and gave it a good hard pinch.

  When nothing happened, Bridget nodded to herself. This was real life; that man was a thief, not a hero, and he’d just stolen something from their familial home. At long last Bridget came to her senses and began screaming for her father, her sister and the servants. She had been brave in the moment, and could now be rescued by those who loved and cared for her.

  Chapter 4

  Lord Geoffrey Nott ran from the Stanhope Estate to where his trusty steed, Lightning, stood. He untied Lightning’s lead from the tree by the stream where he had tied the black horse up. Putting one foot in the stirrup, he mounted the horse with the greatest of speed. He kicked in to the side of the horse and flicked the reins to get her going, and Lightning took off down the road.

  He didn’t realise until they were galloping at a steady speed that his heart was positively racing. This, however, did not alarm Geoffrey. Rather, it made him feel gleeful. He grinned at nothing in the darkness, and allowed himself to feel the pleasure of another job well done.

  Geoffrey absolutely adored doing anything that allowed him that sort of a rush. There were few things in his life that were socially acceptable and would bring him such joy, and so he had taken to things that were slightly beyond what the law allowed. He did, however, enjoy such ‘mundane’ things as hunting, racing, and going to the gentleman’s club to partake in other such activities. When he did go out on a night such as this one, he preferred to go about his business undisturbed. Tonight had been exciting, but it had been far too close a call for his liking. He had to admit, however, that seeing Lady Bridget Stanhope had been an unexpected but very pleasant bonus. It had created a rush of a very different kind.

  The last time Geoffrey had seen Lady Bridget she had been only fourteen, and he eighteen. She looked so young then that Geoffrey hadn’t taken any notice of the girl. He knew many of his companions about town had their eyes on a girl from a young age, but that was not how Geoffrey wished to find a wife.

  Come to think of it, Geoffrey was quite content without a wife at his ripe age of twenty-five, and he had no desire to begin his pursuit for one any time soon. He enjoyed his time being his own, having the freedom to plan his days as he wished, and not having to answer to anyone other than himself. This was a most unfortunate development for many of the ladies in town, for Geoffrey was not without his fair share of admirers.

  Geoffrey was a broad-shouldered man who was quite tall. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and turquoise eyes that brought him far more attention than he would have liked. Geoffrey felt that his stately nose was too big and that his chin jutted out too far, but for many of his admirers, those were two details they very much admired.

  His adventures (both legal and otherwise) kept him in fine shape, but also made his well-chosen attire look somewhat carelessly placed on his body because of all of his physical activity. He had a deep voice that invited many to speak with him, and maintaining his even, white teeth was his pride and joy.

  But thinking back once again upon the chance encounter he had with Lady Bridget, Geoffrey remarked to himself what a difference seven years could make for a young woman. When she was fourteen, Bridget’s limbs seemed to have grown much faster than the rest of her body, and now, so many years later, she had turned out beautifully. Young Bridget’s hair seemed to be the bane of her existence; she never could figure out how to have her pin-straight blonde hair in the styles of the day. But now, with much assistance from Lady Deborah, Bridget’s hair was her crowning glory.

  It was always very well kept and nicely styled; whether or not if felt like cooperating in curls that day. Teenage Bridget also had a habit for feeling uncomfortable in her fancy clothes. Whenever she wore a beautiful gown to a ball, she fidgeted and squirmed in the uncomfortable fabric until she was covered in red scratch marks at the end of the night. Now, Bridget positively glowed whenever she wore any fine dresses or outfits. She was uncommonly beautiful, and Lord Geoffrey couldn’t help but notice.

  Tonight especially, her golden hair had glowed in the candlelight. Geoffrey had never seen a woman, outside of his mother, with her hair down, and Bridget’s tumbled nearly to her waist. Bearing witness to Bridget with her hair like that was a pleasure Geoffrey very much wished he could repeat: she looked like an angel standing there in the doorway. And her eyes were nothing short of a marvel.

  They were the most radiant emerald green that Geoffrey had ever laid eyes on, and had he not been in the midst of what he was, he should have liked to strike up a conversation with her purely for the purpose of admiring her fine eyes further. There was a feeling stirring in Geoffrey about Bridget that he didn’t yet want to acknowledge, but he certainly would agree with anyone that she had grown into quite the beauty.

  As he galloped further down the road in the darkness, Geoffrey also thought about the way Bridget had reacted to him when she saw him. Geoffrey supposed that any other upper-class woman who had come downstairs in the middle of the night to find an intruder in their house would have screamed their head off. Geoffrey thought that most women would have been terrified; they likely would have called for their fathers or brothers or servants immediately. But not Bridget.

  She stood there, frozen, with a puzzled look on her face. Lord Geoffrey paused his line of thinking momentarily, wondering if it was indeed puzzlement he had seen on her face. He thought back. Was there something more in the way Bridget had looked at him? As he considered this further, it brought a smile to his face. Could there have been a chance that she was... admiring him? Geoffrey did himself a favour and decided that must have been precisely what was happening.

  He was a humble man in many ways, but when it came to speaking of his good looks and charming nature, he was a shameless braggart. As he came closer to his destination, he allowed himself a chuckle. There were few noblewomen in Surrey who would be fascinated by a night prowler.

  As he rounded the last bend in the road and came upon his father’s estate, Geoffrey encouraged Lightning to the left. He took his usual route around the side of the property along the edge of the woods, so that on the off-chance there was someone awake in the house, they would have a very difficult time seeing or hearing him.

  As he came closer to the stables, he pulled back on the reins and slowed Lightning down to a trot. He gave her a few pats on the neck as thanks for an excellent ride, and he could feel that even in the cool night air the horse was damp with sweat. Lightning gave a few snorts of contentment, and the pair finally came up to the stable door. Geoffrey slowed Lightning down completely, although he didn’t need to do much. Lightning was such an intelligent steed that she practically controlled her speed and direction herself.

  When they came to a full stop, Geoffrey swung his right leg over the saddle and stepped onto the ground. He took down the sack from the back of the horse and placed it beside him. “Another job well done, old girl,” he whispered to his horse. Lightning gave a quiet neigh in reply, and Geoffrey tossed the reins over her head to lead her into the stable as he carried his spoils
of the evening. Once inside, he lit a few of the lanterns so that he could see what he was doing and tied Lightning up so that he could take off her saddle and give her a brush down.

  But just as he was loosening the billet strap, he heard a rustle coming from one of the other stalls. He looked down the aisle at the other horses, who were all sound asleep. Geoffrey shrugged; it was likely one of them moving as they rested. He continued with his work, taking off the heavy saddle and placing it on its holder at the other end of the barn. But again, as he turned back towards his horse, he heard another rustle.

  This time, Geoffrey recognised that it came from the end of the barn on the outer side. He quietly walked towards the other end of the barn, unafraid but cautious. He didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why he was taking a midnight ride. He crouched under Lightning’s reins and gave the horse a reassuring pat as he passed. Lightning may have been a very intelligent horse, but she could also get quite anxious at times, and he didn’t need that tonight on top of whoever was spying on him.

  When he got to the end of the hall he paused, considering grabbing a weapon momentarily, but then thinking better of it. The only people who would be coming out to the barn would be members of his family or the staff, and none of them would require a bludgeoning to keep quiet. Geoffrey took in a silent breath, and took a step around the corner.

  When he saw a figure standing with their back against the stable door, Geoffrey couldn’t help but be startled. After he jolted, however, his eyes refocused on the image of Henry Partridge, his cousin. Geoffrey breathed an annoyed sigh of relief, and Henry chuckled.

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you so, cousin,” Henry said, more tauntingly than apologetically. Geoffrey gave Henry a gently whack about the side of his head with his riding glove.

  “You didn’t frighten me, Henry, you startled me. Those are two very different things. If I were frightened, it would denote that you had been intending to scare me. But because I am startled, it means that I was not expecting you to be such a terrible accomplice and wait for me outside the stables like that.” Geoffrey walked back down the stall hall in the middle of the stable and picked up the sack filled with his treasures he had taken from the Stanhope house. He turned and shoved the bag into Henry’s arms, saying, “I was very nearly caught this time. It was not a well-orchestrated plan. Hide it now or you’ll regret it.” Henry looked at Geoffrey, confused.

  “You were almost caught? By who?” Henry pressed him.

  “Lady Bridget. She must have come down to the kitchen for something in the night and heard me. I was able to make away with everything alright, but that was only because she didn’t scream or yell.” Geoffrey continued going about taking care of his horse as he spoke to Henry. He picked the mud and grass that had gotten stuck in her hooves out, brushed her coat down and gave her tail a good unknotting.

  “Lady Bridget was the one who caught you?” Henry asked him, amusedly. “Good god, man, the way you said it at first made it seem like you had the whole army after you, when in reality it was just one girl?” Henry laughed with the bag in his hand, and Geoffrey became more enraged.

  “The only reason why I was able to make it out of the estate without being apprehended was because Lady Bridget is not like other women: she did not seem frightened by my presence. If I’d had the misfortune to come across Lady Deborah or Lord Alymer, we might not have been having this conversation presently.”

  Admittedly, Geoffrey did not like having to speak to his cousin like this. Henry was one of the few people in his family that he got along with quite well, but when he took to teasing him like this, it wasn’t tolerable. Henry seemed to understand somewhat, and with an eye roll and a sigh, he stopped laughing.

  “I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Henry relented, “but I have to admit, there is something in your voice when you speak about Lady Bridget that leads me to believe you may not have minded being stopped by her.” Henry gave Geoffrey one last mocking smile, to which Geoffrey took the heavy wooden brush he was holding and whipped it at his feet.

  Henry jumped to avoid being hit by the brush at the last moment, and laughed quietly as he left the stables with the bag of goods. Geoffrey shook his head. Henry couldn’t possibly have been correct in saying that he had spoken about Lady Bridget differently... could he?

  When Geoffrey finished putting Lighting in her stall for the night, he crossed the field to the estate and came around the back to enter by way of the servants’ door. Geoffrey had come out this way, because the staff in the house were not bothered if they heard someone coming in or out at any hour; that was not uncommon in their household.

  As he came inside, he was grateful for the little warmth that the manor provided, for although it wasn’t all that cold outside, there was a chill in the air that seemed to penetrate one’s skin and reside directly in the bones. Geoffrey walked through the rest of the silent house until he came to the stairs that led to his bedroom. As he mounted them, he noticed that his door was slightly ajar.

  Geoffrey was almost certain that he’d left his room completely closed, and was very surprised that he had been so careless as to leave it open. That was like inviting anyone who passed by to know that he was not asleep inside of it, for he always closed his door when he slumbered. When he pushed the door open, he saw the reason why it had been left open: his younger brother, Miles Nott, was sitting on the side of his bed, waiting for him.

  Chapter 5

  As Geoffrey laid eyes on his brother, he was filled with rage. Miles and Geoffrey had never seen eye to eye on pretty much anything. When they were young, their rivalry was so strong that they would compete when it came to nearly everything: who could run around the manor the fastest, who could remember the names of all of the staff who worked in the house, who could acquire more compliments about their attire in one day, or who could grow a finer moustache first.

  Miles was equally as handsome as Geoffrey, but the polar opposite when it came to colouring. Where Geoffrey was dark and brooding, Miles was light and mischievous. He had dark blonde hair and eyebrows, which gave his face an amusing look. He was slightly shorter than his older brother by only a few inches, but he was also ever so slightly more portly.

  His cheeks were fuller and more cherubic than his brother’s, and instead of turquoise eyes, his were a bright blue. When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks and made him look far more pleasant than he actually was.

  Geoffrey’s intense hatred for his brother came from the fact that Miles was allowed to create the life of his choosing. Unlike his older brother, Miles wouldn’t be expected to take over their father’s role of marquess. He didn’t have to live his life knowing that his path was already pre-determined for him. Instead, he was allowed to pursue whatever interested him, and Geoffrey knew that their family’s money and influence would help to place Miles in a good position in whatever profession he chose. Geoffrey desperately wished for that life.

  The reason for Geoffrey’s longing came out of recent developments in his life. He had recently returned home from university, where after he graduated, he was fortunate enough to be able to do a European tour. The only reason his father had allowed him to go was because he believed that it would quench his son’s thirst for adventure and make him less miserable in his life.

  While travelling, though, Geoffrey had seen so many great wonders of the world that he only wanted to see more. The trip to him had felt like offering a horse a carrot when all it had eaten in its life were oats and hay. Then, once the horse had a taste for the carrot, another carrot was dangled on the end of a string just beyond the reach of its mouth, where it knew it would never be able to eat it. The horse would then spend the rest of its life eating the oats and hay because it needed to stay alive, but dreaming of the sweet, sweet carrot that it had tasted once so long ago.

  Geoffrey knew that he shouldn’t complain, for he was very fortunate to have the life that he did. At times he felt like a petulant child; whining and bemoaning the fact that th
ey had to wear their finest clothes and play with their horses instead of frolicking about in the mud with the rest of the children. Geoffrey had all the luxuries that life could afford, and yet they weren’t what he wanted. He wished he could live his life without having to dread the future that had already been decided for him.

  But Geoffrey knew that his brother’s reason for hating him came from a very similar place. From Miles’ side of things, Geoffrey was their father’s favourite son. He could do no wrong when it came to anything. Miles had very few ambitions in life, and so though he was offered the freedom to pursue whatever position he desired, he was currently pursuing absolutely nothing. This aggravated both Geoffrey and their father to no end: if Geoffrey were in his position, he knew he could come up with plenty of worthy pursuits.