Set title

by O’Donnell, Laurel

  “Leave off,” the boy demanded as he struggled.

  “Victor.”

  The squirming lad froze and looked up, a mix of fear and anger on his face. Relief spread over his expression as he recognized Oliver.

  Assuming he wouldn’t run, Oliver released him.

  “Didn’t realize it was ye at first,” Victor said as he straightened his tattered jacket as though he’d had it made on Bond Street. “What brings ye here?”

  “I have yet to receive a report from you.” Oliver studied the lad, noting fear remained in the back of his eyes. “One for which I already paid.”

  “Ah, well, I haven’t seen anything worth reportin’ yet.” Victor’s gaze searched up and down the street warily before resting on Mr. Porter’s shop. “Perhaps we should speak elsewhere.”

  “Lead the way.”

  The boy’s brows shot up, barely visible beneath the brim of his cap as though surprised at being put in charge. Then he nodded. “This way.”

  He strode through the crooked streets, and Oliver followed but found it difficult to keep up. The boy was quick and wove through the passersby with experienced ease. Oliver’s anxiousness increased as they went, people seeming to press in on him. Maybe it was the humid air or the crowd, but he found himself taking slow breaths to calm himself. Just as he was about to insist Victor stop, the lad ducked into an alleyway.

  “Welcome to me office,” the boy declared as he halted and swept his hand forward, as though ushering in Oliver. “Are ye all right, guv? Ye’re lookin’ a bit pale.”

  “I’m fine,” Oliver replied, annoyed the boy had noticed. He scowled when Victor continued to stare at him as though concerned.

  “If ye say so.”

  “I do.” Oliver did his best to hide his disgust at the stench of the alley, not to mention the piles of refuse and waste, and instead focused on the boy. “Does this mean you have something to tell me?”

  “Not exactly.” Victor shuffled his feet, his gaze darting away.

  “A yes or no answer will suffice.”

  “’Tis not so easy, this task ye gave me.” Victor shook his head as he met Oliver’s gaze.

  “How so?” Obviously, something had occurred to worry the boy. The question was, would he share it?

  “I was doin’ as ye asked, watchin’ Porter’s shop. I spent time near the back of it as well as near the front, doin’ me best to stay out of sight.”

  Oliver nodded, holding onto his patience as the boy spoke.

  Victor glanced about the alley as though fearing someone watched them from the shadows. “There’s a bloke who visits the shop nearly every day, but he never takes anything in or out. Didn’t make any sense to me. So I followed him yesterday when he left.”

  “And?” Oliver prompted when the boy paused.

  “He headed toward the docks, but I lost him there. I waited to see if I could find him again. Sure enough, he walked past me and I followed. He went back to Mr. Porter’s. But when he left the shop again, he spotted me. He grabbed me before I knew what was what and told me if he caught me lingerin’ near Porter’s or him again, he’d dump me in the Thames.”

  Oliver pondered Victor’s story. Obviously, the man was up to something with Porter, but none of this tied him to Smithby. A link was what Oliver needed. However, the man’s reaction to Victor’s presence seemed out of proportion to the boy’s actions. That spoke of guilt. “Did you learn anything more? Maybe you heard them speaking?”

  “They were speakin’ all right. The man mentioned Smithby, which I remembered ye asked me about. The bloke threatened Porter with him. Said how if Porter didn’t move more goods, Smithby would pay a visit and Porter wouldn’t like it.”

  Oliver could hardly believe it. This was exactly what they needed—details on Smithby and how he was moving the stolen goods. Oliver wasn’t certain how they’d be able to use it, but it would provide a lead, which was in short supply of late. But as uncomfortable as Victor was, Oliver had to assume he was frightened. “Excellent work. Information is a far more valuable commodity than goods.”

  “I asked around after that. A few blokes I know said to stay clear of Smithby. They warned me that nothin’ good would come from followin’ him. That I’d more than likely end up dead.”

  “I agree. Do not seek out Smithby in any way. The man is capable of vile deeds, of that I have no doubt.” Though he’d like nothing more than to catch Smithby, it wasn’t worth putting Victor in danger or anyone else for that matter.

  “I don’t think the man knew for certain whether I heard anything. Otherwise he wouldn’t have let me go.”

  “Well done, Victor.” Oliver paid him the additional money promised. Something made Oliver study the lad closer. “Did you happen to hear the man’s name?”

  Victor stilled, a calculating gleam in his eye. “What would it be worth to ye?”

  Oliver held up two more shillings.

  “Thomas Crawford. I heard Porter say it.”

  Oliver tossed him the coins, and the boy caught them deftly, tucking them out of sight. “You’ve been excellent help, Victor. You’re sure you don’t have the location of where Thomas went when he left Porter’s?”

  “Nay. But I can keep watchin’. See if I have a chance to follow him again.”

  Debating his options, Oliver shook his head. “The situation is growing too dangerous. You had better keep your distance.”

  Victor’s eyes narrowed. “What if I were to hear something. Should I send word?”

  For a moment, Oliver considered saying no. He worried that Victor would do all he could to earn more money, which would put him in danger. If he had already come to Crawford’s notice, the boy would be in even more danger. “I’d like to make it clear you are not to intentionally listen. You must stay out of sight. If Crawford catches you, there won’t be much I can do to save you.”

  “I understand.”

  Oliver placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Please take care. While I would pay well for more information, the promise of money will do you no good if you’re caught. No information is worth risking harm to you.”

  The boy’s brown eyes held Oliver’s, his expression registering surprise. “I’ll take care.”

  Oliver nodded. That was the best he could do. He only hoped it was enough. “You leave first. The less we’re seen together, the better.”

  Victor departed before Oliver had to tell him twice. Oliver waited a few moments before exiting the alley. Luckily, he was able to find his way back through the crooked, narrow streets that all looked alike.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he climbed into his carriage once Tubbs found him. The energy of the dirty streets with their crowds of desperate people was far worse than any ballroom. But that only made him more determined to halt Smithby. He was ruining far too many lives.

  ~*~

  Jasper Smithby’s footsteps echoed in the corridor as he was escorted to the visitor’s gate of Newgate Prison. He’d chosen to walk with a cane and favored his right leg, making his limp noticeable as part of his disguise. The fake mutton chops and mustache he’d glued to his face helped hide his identity.

  “Who are you here to see?” the uniformed guard at the desk asked.

  “Culbert Rutter,” Jasper said, keeping his voice a low grumble.

  “Your name?”

  “Albert Rutter, his brother.” Jasper handed over the forged permit that allowed him to visit.

  “I don’t remember him mentioning a brother,” the guard said as he studied the permit then Jasper.

  “Not surprising. We’re not that close.” Jasper resisted the urge to check to make sure his facial hair remained in place. Being inside the prison set his nerves twitching, let alone being scrutinized by the guard. “I’m his only family. Came from Norfolk. Difficult to travel this far. No doubt he’ll be surprised by my arrival.”

  The guard nodded, his brief interest gone. He tucked the permit into a drawer. “Follow the other guard. He’ll take you to see hi
m.”

  Jasper nodded and limped after the guard. As they walked down a long corridor, Jasper’s unease grew. It was wrong for a professional criminal like himself to be in a prison of his own free will. He’d be pleased when this was completed. With a sigh of relief, he watched the guard retrieve a key from his belt and unlocked the thick door.

  “Second cell to the left.”

  The small area contained two cells on each side. Jasper glanced about, pleased to see the other cells stood empty.

  “I wonder if you might give us a few minutes,” he asked the guard with an easy smile. “It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” Jasper slipped him some coins with his request.

  “I suppose so. You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Jasper waited to approach Rutter’s cell until the guard stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open.

  “How are you faring, Culbert?” Jasper asked, noting the other man’s pallor through the bars of the cell. He appeared to have lost weight, based on the way his shirt hung on him. Relief and fear warred in his eyes.

  “Making do,” Rutter said, his gaze darting about nervously. “I’m hopin’ this visit means I’ll soon be out of here.”

  “Yes, you will.” He didn’t feel any guilt for not telling his former right-hand man the whole truth. It would be best if he didn’t know everything. No one would be given that power.

  Rutter blew out a breath though the fear didn’t leave his eyes. “’Tis relieved I am to hear that. I can’t say as I like this place.”

  Jasper studied the narrow cell with its tiny mattress and dark, bare walls. “I don’t blame you. I have to say I was disappointed to hear rumors about how much you’ve been talking.”

  Rutter’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. Who told ye that?”

  “Are you saying the tales aren’t true?” At Rutter’s nod, Jasper had to wonder who was telling the truth—Crawford or Rutter. “I’m pleased to have your loyalty still.”

  “Of course.” Rutter grasped the bars before him, his knuckles white. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’m going to draw on the dark powers for your release.” Jasper did his best to keep a straight face as an expression of dismay came over Rutter.

  It never ceased to amaze him how gullible people were, especially the men in his employ. The Book of Secrets had been a boon that paid off time and again. Though the information it contained made little sense, his men didn’t know that. Jasper took pride in adding his own spin onto its ‘Secrets.’ He employed a combination of tricks and acting along with the Latin phrases he knew to convince his men he had special abilities.

  But this time, he’d actually found something helpful in the book’s pages. At least it seemed as though it might work. He’d know soon enough.

  His methods of using the book had ensured loyalty over the past two years as he built his small empire. But a grand gesture was needed to reinforce his men’s fear of him. Since the damned trouble with the brothels, thanks to Captain Hawke, he needed to do something to fortify his hold over them. This problem with Rutter was actually an opportunity.

  With luck, word of his power would spread to his enemies as well, especially McCarthy, and make them more reluctant to cross him.

  “I’ll need your help, Culbert,” Jasper told him.

  “Of course. Anything ye ask.” The desperation in his voice pleased Jasper, reminding him why he liked the man.

  Jasper withdrew a chunk of chalk from his pocket along with a piece of paper. “Take this,” he said, handing him the chalk, “and draw what you see on the paper. You’ll need to make it bigger. Copy the symbols and letters as closely as you can.”

  Rutter’s dirty hand trembled slightly as he reached for the items around the bars. His brows raised as he opened the paper and studied the markings. “What does all this mean?”

  Jasper smiled. “That’s for me to know. I wouldn’t want to burden you with this terrible knowledge. It could go wrong if not done properly.”

  “Of course.” Rutter nodded earnestly. “Which wall shall I put it on?”

  “The right side, where everyone will be able to see it when they walk into this area.” He glanced over his shoulder to make certain the guard hadn’t returned. “Quickly now. We don’t have much time.”

  Rutter licked his lips and moved to the wall, lifting his hand high to begin copying the designs.

  “Bigger,” Jasper ordered as he watched Rutter work. “That gives it more power.”

  Rutter glanced warily over his shoulder, hesitating a moment before turning back to his task, some of the lines shaky from his trembling hand.

  “Straight as you can, Rutter. Let the power of the symbols guide the chalk.”

  After pausing for a moment as though to gather himself, he made the strokes bigger and bolder.

  “That’s it. Quick as you can,” Jasper encouraged. He withdrew a small glass vial and a knife from the top of his boot, waiting patiently while Rutter finished the design that covered most of the wall.

  In a quiet voice, he began to chant a series of Latin phrases.

  “Abiit nemine salutato.”

  He went away without bidding anyone farewell.

  That seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

  “Aeternum vale.” Farewell forever.

  As he continued, Rutter glanced briefly at him then began to draw faster.

  Jasper smiled. Two problems would be solved with this one act. Rumors of his dark power would spread, and Rutter would no longer be a prisoner.

  He could almost feel a powerful force seeping through him at the thought.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “When the last batch of shopkeeper-swindlers of St. Pancras were tried and convicted, the ugly fact transpired that not a few of them were gentlemen holding official positions in the parish.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  “You said Frost was coming?” Julia’s father asked as they walked up the steps of the British Museum in the Bloomsbury area of London.

  “I believe so.” Julia hoped Oliver would actually make an appearance. But as he hadn’t replied to her message, she didn’t know what to expect.

  She’d allowed her father to delve into his research for the past two days but had decided he needed a break once more. Although this museum was said to have an interesting temporary exhibit on medieval artifacts, that hadn’t been enough to lure him from his desk. She’d had to add Oliver to the mix once again.

  She told herself she wasn’t hurt that her father would rather spend time reading that silly book instead of with her, yet the opportunity to speak with Oliver was enough to get him out of the house. Not hurt at all.

  Instead, being a mature adult who didn’t hold grudges, she’d sent a message inviting Oliver to join them this afternoon.

  She also attempted to convince herself she wasn’t hurt that, despite their intimate kisses in his library, Oliver had made no effort to call upon her or bother to respond to her message. Perhaps she’d misunderstood how he felt about her or—

  With a sigh, she shook her head. She no longer knew whether up was down or vice versa. Not when it came to Oliver.

  Since he’d entered her life, her world had tilted. She couldn’t say how she felt about him either. Attempting to place a name on her feelings was complicated. Added to that was a lack of sleep, which she blamed on Oliver. She’d relived those moments in his arms, the way he made her feel, more times than she could count.

  While she told herself it was a relief he wasn’t courting her as she needed to stay with her father, a part of her longed for exactly that. He made her feel things she’d hadn’t dreamed were possible.

  In truth, she had no idea how to handle these emotions. They swirled around her, clouding her mind until she wasn’t certain what to think or do.

  A trickle of awareness flowed through her, and she couldn’t stop a small gasp when Oliver emerged from behind one of the tall, granite columns gracing the front of the museum. Her mind a
nd body were attuned to him in a way that puzzled her.

  As she took in his appearance, from those green eyes to the black suit coat that emphasized his broad shoulders, she had to admit she wanted to spend time with him as much as her father did.

  How ridiculous when nothing could come of it.

  “Good day.” That watchful gaze of his seemed to see more than she wanted it to.

  Memories of the way they’d kissed—the feel of his hands on her—coursed through her. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to halt the tumble of her thoughts as heat flooded her cheeks. When she opened them, she was relieved to see Oliver had shifted his attention to her father.

  The two men visited for several moments, and the topic soon moved to her father’s progress. Was that the only reason Oliver had come? The thought was far more disappointing than she cared to admit.

  Julia waited patiently as they spoke, wondering how long this project might last. She did not doubt that once it was over, they’d no longer see Oliver. Her heart twisted at the notion.

  “Isn’t that right, my dear?” her father asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I was telling the viscount that viewing the medieval exhibition in his company will be all the more interesting.”

  “Certainly,” she agreed though she couldn’t imagine Oliver sharing tidbits of information as they perused the exhibits.

  When she caught sight of Oliver’s raised brow, she realized her tone might have sounded sarcastic. But she refused to feel guilty about her doubt as she believed he would barely tolerate this outing. The best she could do was to offer a smile when really she would’ve preferred to stick out her tongue at him.

  “Shall we?” she asked.

  Oliver opened the door, and they entered the chilly interior of the museum.

  As Julia’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she sensed Oliver’s presence directly behind her.

  “Are you suggesting you won’t enjoy this outing in my company?” he whispered.