The Gentleman's Thief - Isobel Starling Page 0,46

so it was quite the culture shock when, at ten years old, I was sent alone to England for my schooling. I had a dreadful time with bullying at school, and so I found ways to circumvent the bullies—I made the boys laugh so they wouldn’t pick on me.”

“Rather the class clown than the punching bag, ay!” I said with a raised brow.

Sebastian paused for some thoughtful puffs on his pipe. “And after school, I was enrolled at the Sorbonne in Paris. My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps and study Theology. He’d instilled in me that it was my path ever since I was a child.”

“And did you share this belief?”

“Not as such,” Sebastian said in response. He took a deep inhalation of his smoke, pursed his lips, and let the blue-grey cloud seep out of his nose.

“But I carried out my father’s wish… to a point!”

My brows rose in inquiry.

“I studied Theology but I… left before graduating.” He revealed haltingly.

“Oh”, I wondered if he had ceased his studies by choice or if an event had occurred that gave him no choice. “What does all of this have to do with Blake?”

Sebastian rested the hand holding his pipe on his lap and sighed. “His name was Nathaniel Everett when I knew him.”

Any warmth left in my flesh drained from me.

“Paris is a city where a young man can get… distracted very easily.”

I was certain that this was true. I had visited Paris several times to deal with collectors of antiquities and more than once they’d tried to lead me astray. I was happy to dine with a client, but I found that a meal was never enough to entertain a Frenchman, and they became rather insulted that I would not partake of their more indecent hospitality.

“My heart wasn’t in my studies. I felt trapped in a life that was not of my choosing. And so I would creep out of my dormitory window at lights out, and shimmy down drainpipes to explore the city and have fun.”

“Is that where you honed your sneak-thief skills?”

Sebastian let out a light laugh. “Indeed, that is where I learned the skills of a second-storey man! Parisian buildings are highly ornate, you know, and so it was an education of sorts, but not the one my father paid for!”

“We’re you alone or did you have a partner-in-crime?” I probed.

“I was alone, but not for long after my nightly escapades! I made lots of friends on the street, artists, actors, prostitutes, and people of the night. On one of my outings, I met a man, an American. He was sitting outside a café watching performers juggle and dance in the square. He had the most peculiar eyes I’d ever seen. One of the jugglers, whom I knew, tossed a ball to me and made me part of his act. The American watched me with those mismatched eyes. He seemed magical and otherworldly to me. I was eighteen, lonely, in a strange city. He offered me a drink, and we began the dance!”

I gulped. Sebastian’s story of youthful romance made the fire of jealousy burn in me. What was wrong with my head? Sebastian was in my bed, and yet I was jealous of a man in a tale from long ago?

“Nathaniel took me to the theater and clubs for men with particular tastes. I knew even then that I was not attracted to women in the same way I was drawn to men. He showered me with compliments. I was a comely lad, but inexperienced and no one had ever spoken to me in such intimate terms before. He offered to walk me back to my dormitory building one night. It was then that he pulled me into an alley and kissed me. Everyone, whether they admit it or not, longs to be special, even to just one person.” Sebastian said wistfully.

“We do,” I agreed.

“Nathaniel—or Lawrence has a way with words and I found his American accent rather exotic back then.” Sebastian trailed off and sat quietly, lost in his memories.

I waited, clutching the fine china cup and saucer and hoping it did not shatter in my hands as jealously consumed me.

“Did he give you those scars on your back?” I was appalled by my outburst but could not unsay those words.

“Oh no,” Sebastian said in a whisper. “I did that myself—at his command. That is how deeply I had lost myself and fallen into his clutches.” The weight of that admission hung

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