Love Conquers All: Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Laurel O'Donnell

  If Julia had been the quiet, retiring type, then perhaps her parents would be here, together. Her mother would be alive. Her father would be well. Her brother wouldn’t have such a restless spirit. They’d be the sort of family portrayed in pictures of ideal Victorian life.

  They’d be whole.

  “Dear,” her aunt said as she moved to sit beside her on the settee, “we’ve spoken about this many times. Their behavior is no reflection on you or your brother. You were wonderful children and grew into wonderful people. The fault lies with your parents.”

  Julia nodded, but in her heart, the words rang hollow.

  “Your mother was unhappy all of her life. I truly don’t know why though I suspect it had something to do with her own childhood, especially her mother.” She gently squeezed Julia’s arm. “My wish for you is to find joy in yourself. And then to find a man who has the same. Together, you will find true happiness and experience the gift of a wonderful marriage.”

  An image of Oliver filled her mind. Unfortunately, he was not a happy person either. She had to wonder if that was what had first caught her interest. It was difficult for her to see someone unhappy and resist trying to help. After all, she’d spent most of her life aiding her father and, before her death, her mother as well. Somewhere along the way, it had become part of who she was.

  Not that she had any intention of falling in love with Oliver—or anyone for that matter. How could she ever consider living a life of her own when her father’s health was so unstable?

  “What of you, Aunt Matilda?” Julia asked. “Why haven’t you married? I hope it’s not because you feel the need to care for my father.”

  Her aunt drew a deep breath and stared into the distance for several moments. “I suppose I never met a man who made such a risk worthwhile. After seeing all that your parents went through, I confess that I became overly cautious. Too cautious, I can see now. I would not recommend that either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes we must take risks in life. The trick is to know what the stakes are and to weigh them carefully. To enter the situation with your eyes open. Despite all that, you can’t always reach for happiness while holding onto safety.”

  Julia stared at her aunt, trying to understand, wondering what had happened in her past to make her say this.

  Her blue gaze, not so different from Julia’s, held a hint of sadness. “Don’t be afraid to explore any feelings that should arise, dear. Only by exploring do we know what is possible.”

  “Exploring?” Julia wasn’t certain to what she was referring.

  Aunt Matilda patted her hand. “Trust yourself. Trust your instincts. You’re old enough to know what risks you should and shouldn’t take.”

  Julia continued to look at her, perplexed. In truth, she wasn’t certain if her aunt meant what Julia thought she might. This talk of possibilities and instincts was foreign. Her aunt had never talked to her like this, and Julia had no idea how to react to it.

  “I’m going to check on your father before supper,” her aunt announced as she rose. “I hope you know that I am here for you as well, not just your father. If you ever need to speak to me of...anything, I trust you know I’m an excellent listener.”

  Julia stood to hug her aunt. “I adore you, and I can’t imagine what I would’ve done without you all these years. Thank you.”

  “I would be lost without you as well, dear.” Aunt Matilda leaned back and looked her in the eyes. “I know how very much you love your father, but you are not responsible for him. You will always be near to aid him, and that is more than enough for any daughter to give.”

  Julia smiled, still confused. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “No, of course not. But if a possibility were to arise, I only ask that you would explore it, regardless of where you think it may lead.”

  “I will keep that in mind.” Her aunt’s comments were baffling. By the intensity with which she spoke, Julia knew she was trying to convey something important. She only wished she better understood her meaning. Then again, Julia wasn’t ready to discuss her changing feelings. Her future was already set for as far as she could see.

  “You’ll know it when you see it. You need only trust, remember?”

  Julia nodded, wishing it were that easy.

  ~*~

  The next morning, Oliver gave a satisfied smile as he read the morning newspaper. The headline was even bolder than he’d anticipated.

  MURDER IN PRISON DECLARED A FRAUD.

  He had no idea how Hawke had convinced Sergeant Rollins to tell all this to the crowd of reporters that gathered outside the prison when word of a prisoner murdered in his cell by black magic had leaked.

  The story boldly claimed there had been no murder, only a suicide of a prisoner. It shared how childlike drawings were written on the wall by the man before he’d taken his own life.

  If Smithby had intended to increase his power with Rutter’s death, the article would undermine the criminal’s plan. People tended to lash out when angry. The story was certain to make the man livid.

  Oliver smiled at the thought.

  Hawke had been too late to halt the release of Rutter’s body but had been assured that a doctor examined Rutter and declared him dead. They could only surmise Smithby had convinced Rutter to drink a poison without Rutter realizing what it was. Had Smithby gained that knowledge from The Book of Secrets?

  Once again, the idea of such a book in the hands of someone who used it to cause fear in others for his own gain boiled Oliver’s blood. Somehow, someway, by fair means or foul, he was going to take that book from Smithby.

  With luck, the article in the paper would anger the man enough that he’d do something idiotic. From what Hawke had recently discovered, Smithby had hidden himself like a rat at the docks, moving here and there to escape detection.

  Oliver’s thoughts shifted to Victor, wondering if the lad would happen upon the whereabouts of Smithby’s warehouses. Or at least one of them. Chances were he had several based on the size of his operation. If Victor didn’t contact him soon, he’d have to venture to the area near Mr. Porter’s shop again. While he wanted the boy to remain safe, Oliver also hoped he’d learn something more.

  Hawke had said the police were being extra vigilant in their search for Smithby’s location as well. He certainly wasn’t the only criminal plaguing the city, but his ring of professional thieves was a significant problem. Bringing an end to Smithby’s businesses would be a major victory for the police.

  Of course, they still weren’t certain which members of the police force aided Smithby. That made catching him all the more challenging.

  After finishing breakfast, Oliver worked in the library for a time, allowing the peace of his books to calm him. The past few days had been far too eventful. Despite that, he found himself checking his watch frequently until late morning arrived when he could call upon the Earl of Burnham. After missing his intended visit the previous day, he assumed he might have to spend more time with the lord to make up for it.

  With a wry smile at his lack of will, he admitted how much he hoped Julia was there. Lord Burnham was an interesting man, but his daughter was the one who drew Oliver. Not seeing her only made him long to see her more. He’d hoped that absence, regardless of the duration, would help ease her from his mind. But it had done the opposite.

  He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, nor of her. Why did she constantly remain in his thoughts? It was as though his entire being longed to be in her presence. While he knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—allow himself to grow close to her, neither could he stay away.

  Where did that leave him?

  He honestly didn’t know. He only knew he wanted to see her as soon as possible.

  Once the hour hand on his watch struck eleven, he rose from his desk, doing his best to convince himself that he owed the visit to Lord Burnham, that it didn’t matter if Julia was there.

  And failed utterly.

  In a shor
t while, Tubbs opened the door of the carriage in front of the Hopwood residence. Oliver was part way up the walk before he realized he hadn’t even hesitated before alighting. His anxiety was absent when he knew he’d see Julia. Yet he was slightly breathless as he knocked on the door. He knew the sensation had nothing to do with leaving his home and everything to do with his anticipation of seeing her.

  The footman who answered the door showed him into the drawing room rather than the library. Oliver wasn’t certain what to make of that. He waited patiently at first, but as the minutes grew long, his patience faded. He removed his gloves then paced about the room, looking around curiously as he realized he was searching for signs of Julia’s presence.

  Restful blues and whites decorated the room, from the wallpaper to the furniture. While a more feminine room, it wasn’t fussy, but cheerful, much like Julia.

  As though his thoughts conjured her, he heard the click of the door and turned to find her standing there.

  But the smile he’d grown to expect was noticeably absent.

  Something was obviously amiss.

  She glanced over her shoulder into the foyer as though expecting someone to join them. Then she looked back at him and slowly walked forward to curtsy. “Good day, my lord.”

  The formal greeting took him aback. He much preferred his name on her lips. “And to you.”

  “I assume you’re here to see my father.” Her hands were clasped before her, and she had yet to smile.

  “Yes.” He pressed his lips together to stop from admitting that he was also there to see her. He studied her closely, taking in the delicate pink of her morning gown, the graceful sweep of her loose chignon, and the tightness of her expression. But something else was different as well.

  “Unfortunately he’s feeling poorly and not able to receive visitors.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed in good health during our visit to the museum.”

  “His health took an unexpected turn. He was disappointed you weren’t able to call on him.”

  “Something urgent arose that took my time.” Oliver cursed under his breath, wishing he’d provided a better explanation in his message.

  She gave the barest of nods. “I’m sure.”

  He realized she didn’t believe him. Astounded at the thought, he considered how much to tell her about what had happened that delayed his arrival.

  “There is something you should know about my father,” she continued, her gaze resting just past his shoulder, making him want to turn and look behind him to see what held her interest. “He suffers from...melancholy, I suppose you’d call it, for lack of a better term. When that takes his spirit under, a physical illness often follows.”

  Oliver frowned, trying to understand what she was saying.

  “It has nothing to do with you, of course,” she continued. “But in the future, it would be helpful if you didn’t make suggestions with which you don’t intend to follow through.”

  He realized what was so wrong about her today—she was completely still. The beautiful butterfly had ceased fluttering. Her hands hadn’t moved from their carefully folded position since she’d entered the room. Her head hadn’t shifted, even her gaze was still.

  He didn’t care for it at all. He much preferred her as a moving beam of light, dancing from moment to moment, overwhelming his senses.

  “Julia?” He stepped forward and took her cool hands in his, causing her to blink up at him, her gaze at last meeting his. The worry in their blue depths was concerning. “How is he truly?”

  “Not well.”

  “I’m sorry if my delay caused this.”

  She had yet to move her hands. “It is not your fault, though he was looking forward to it. I only wanted to mention how easily upset he is so we could avoid anything like that happening again. In case you intend to visit him again someday.”

  Someday. What a terrible word. It implied never, because someday never came. How had he never realized that before?

  Despite their physical contact, a barrier remained between them, seeming vast and insurmountable. He detested it but wasn’t certain how to remove it. Or even if he could.

  He released her hand to place his along her cheek, surprised to find it as cool as her hand. “What do you think is wrong? Have you called for the doctor?”

  “Yes, but there’s little he can do at this time. He suggests rest, of course.”

  “That hardly seems helpful.”

  At last, she managed a small but genuine smile. “That’s what I thought as well.”

  “I know this is unusual, but could I possibly speak with him? Is he well enough that I could visit with him briefly?” Oliver could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. He was no nursemaid. In fact, he’d spent much of the past two years building a wall to keep the world out. Now he was reaching out.

  Yet he felt compelled to help, despite how uncomfortable it felt. Whether it was Julia’s demeanor or the idea of her father sitting alone in his library, waiting for Oliver who’d never arrived, he didn’t know. Offering to help seemed like the right thing to do.

  Julia shook her head. “I hardly think you would want to do that.”

  “I would actually.” And it was true. “I won’t overstay. Perhaps a few minutes would lift his mood.” It was difficult to believe that anyone, even an old lord who shared his affection for medieval texts, would want to spend time with him. Nor did he think he had the power to make the man feel better. But at the very least, he hoped it would make Julia feel better and allow her to regain her normal joy for life.

  He’d never met anyone who held the joie de vivre she did, nor anyone who managed to exude it so well. It shone out from her in a way that captured those nearby.

  Especially him.

  “I don’t know,” she said. As she thought over his offer, she tilted her head ever so slightly into his hand, as though tempted to share her burden. The sensation sent a spear of longing through him, landing directly in his chest, spreading warmth.

  He took his hand back, uncomfortable at the sensation. Surely that was only lust. How selfish of him—the lady was worried about her father and he only thought of his own desire.

  No, he wouldn’t lie to himself. It was far more than simple lust. That scared the hell out of him.

  “If you’d like to check with him now and see if he’s feeling up to it, I’d be pleased to wait. Unless you’d rather I return tomorrow.”

  Her gaze caught on his once more, studying him as though trying to determine what he was about.

  Luckily she didn’t ask, for he didn’t think he could answer.

  “Yes. All right.” She stepped back toward the door. “I’ll return directly.”

  Oliver shook his head as he paced. What on earth did he think he was doing? If he had any sense, he’d leave while she was upstairs. The farther away he went for both their sakes, the better. He could only offer a short-term friendship to Lord Burnham. The alternative to that was continued visits here where he’d come upon Julia frequently. Such an arrangement would only make him want her for—

  He stopped short, not daring to allow himself to finish the thought.

  “My lord?” A lady’s voice had him turning, but he already knew it wasn’t Julia. An older woman closer to Lord Burnham’s age crossed the room toward him. “You must be Viscount Frost.”

  “Indeed,” he managed as he bowed.

  “I’m Lady Matilda Hopwood, Lord Burnham’s sister, and Julia’s aunt.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.” He paused, certain she had more to say. When she said nothing else, he added, “I’m sorry to hear the earl isn’t feeling well.”

  “As are we,” she agreed. Her gown was a deep purple with a floral pattern designed in the height of fashion. She obviously took good care of herself. He’d guess she was several years younger than her brother based on her appearance. “I’m not certain what Julia told you, but he suffers from melancholy, which often manifests into other illnesses.”
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br />   “She mentioned that only a few moments ago.” Feeling the weight of her gaze, he couldn’t help but add, “I’m sorry if my unfortunate delay caused any harm.”

  She heaved a sigh. “The mind and body connection is often dismissed by many. But with my brother, it is very apparent. It takes so little to set him off these days and has become far worse the last few years. He misses his wife dearly, you know.”

  Oliver nodded politely, wondering what had happened to Lady Hopwood. He hated to think he’d be reduced to asking Hawke if he knew the details. Gossip was unpleasant in any form, but he truly wanted to know how Julia’s mother had died, and he had to assume Julia didn’t wish to speak of it. Then again, the less he knew, the better.

  “She died while riding with her lover,” the lady offered, shocking Oliver. “Fell from her horse at the man’s country estate.” She shook her head. “Deplorable behavior.”

  Oliver couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say to her news, uncertain if it was because of his lack of social skills or because of the lady’s frank delivery of such surprising news.

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable.” She smiled and reached out to briefly touch his arm, reminding him of Julia. “I’m told I’m far too blunt, but sometimes it makes for more interesting conversations, don’t you think?”

  He couldn’t agree or disagree if he wanted to be polite. Lady Matilda smiled, seemingly aware of his predicament and enjoying it.

  “My brother was far too much in love with her. She preferred his money over his charms, I’m afraid. Poor Julia has borne the brunt of their unwise union.”

  “Oh?” He couldn’t help but utter the word that would hopefully encourage the older woman to share more.

  “I’ll let Julia tell you what she’d like about that. But I do hope she mentioned how careful we try to be with Alfred.”

  “Yes, she did. I will keep that in mind.”