Lady Lightfingers Read Free Page A

thin little cry as the cold and dirty water began to lick at her naked body had touched her, and Celia had begged her mother to save the baby’s life. They’d called her Charlotte, quickly shortened to Lottie, and thus Celia had gained a sister.
    They’d lived in a real house then, the room and board paid for by her mother’s efforts at housekeeping. Another child in his home, especially one that cried at night, was too much for the owner to bear, and he’d sent them packing.
    They’d gone downhill. Nobody would employ her mother and she sent Celia begging. But Celia couldn’t earn enough to keep them all.
    They’d been lucky and had found the cellar that they’d called home for the past three years. But it was a struggle to pay the rent and buy food. Now, when it seemed that they couldn’t go any lower, her mother seemed resigned to her lot in life.
    Life wasn’t fair sometimes, Celia thought, kissing her sister’s soft curls. But she had no intention of trying to earn an honest living by sewing seams in trousers or being a housemaid and a dollymop on the side.
    Celia learned things easily, and she didn’t intend to stay. When she was old enough she would leave this place. Using her wits, lying, stealing, dramatics, begging – or even marriage to a rich man – she’d be the very best at what she did, and she’d look after her family while she was doing it.
    Her gaze went to the watch. She was tempted to keep it, but just as she thought she might, Lottie’s exploring fingers found a hidden catch and the back sprang open. Celia laughed when Lottie’s eyes rounded with surprise and she clapped her hands. Revealed was a small sketch of a child’s face surrounded by a wreath. RIP Celia Jane Hambert it said on the back, and there was an address.
    For reasons unknown, tears sprang to Celia’s eyes.
    The man had lost a child he loved and he carried a memorial of her around with him. Odd that they bore the same name. Celia didn’t believe in signs . . . until now. It was as if the ghost of the girl was whispering to her, asking to be taken back to the father who loved her. She must take the timepiece back; if she didn’t something bad would happen to her.
    Her fingers touched against the dangling door key. She had the address and she had a way in. There was bound to be cash at the house and she could leave the watch and help herself to the reward at the same time. All she had to do was watch and wait, and seize her chance.

Two
    It didn’t take Celia long to discover where Thomas Hambert lived. It was apparent that he was a pleasant gentleman, tipping his hat when the need arose to people he passed, especially the ladies. He had an air of absent-mindedness about him that was endearing. Celia followed him around and learned his habits, which proved to be just as much fun as the thrill of dipping her fingers into pockets undetected. He seemed unaware of her presence.
    It never ceased to amaze her how careless people were with their purses. Just that morning she’d taken one from a woman’s basket, handing it back to her, lighter by several coins.
    â€˜Excuse me, ma’am, but you dropped this,’ she said, handing it over with as much humbleness as she could muster.
    The woman’s male companion fished a penny from his pocket and dropped it in her hand. ‘Here, girl.’
    The purse was placed back in its basket, while the man automatically patted his inside pocket to make sure his paper money was secure, revealing exactly where it was kept. Celia could almost guarantee that by the time they reached the end of the lane, both purse and pocket would be emptied. She was tempted to do it herself, except she’d spotted Thomas Hambert standing outside a bookshop.
    She sidled up beside him and looked in the window. When she was sure he wasn’t looking she slanted a glance at his notebook. He was making a sketch of the