Love Conquers All: Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Laurel O'Donnell

  He smiled, but it was far from pleasant. Nor was the pistol he withdrew from his coat pocket. “I beg to differ, miss. Hand over the book, else I’ll be forced to use this.”

  Julia stared at the weapon, her heart in her throat.

  Oh, no. What had she done?

  ~*~

  Oliver watched Victor as he dozed, wishing he’d been quicker and caught the boy awake. But sleep was no doubt the best thing for him. His face was pale and pinched against the white bedding. The knife wounds had to hurt like hell. Hopefully, the doctor would arrive soon to treat them and give the lad something to ease his pain.

  He couldn’t believe Victor had taken the book from Smithby. How had he managed such a feat? While Oliver was anxious to hear the story, he wanted Victor’s wounds tended to first. With luck, Victor would be able to share some details on Smithby’s operations after the doctor’s visit. That meant they were all the closer to catching the man.

  No wonder he’d been filled with that terrible foreboding today. Unfortunately, it had yet to pass, as did the anger simmering deep inside him.

  With a muffled oath, he moved to the window overlooking the front of the house. The room was on the third floor and provided a fine view of the surrounding area. Though the day was overcast, he could still see a fair distance.

  Julia’s carriage was approaching the front door, much to his surprise. He thought she’d already departed, but the bigger question was why the carriage was picking her up in front of his home. She’d been careful to be as discreet as possible when calling upon him.

  His gaze caught on movement directly below. His heart leaped to his throat as a rough-looking man forced Julia down the walk toward the carriage. Her posture was odd, but it wasn’t until she turned that he realized she held the same wrapped bundle Victor had carried—The Book of Secrets.

  Terror seized his mind as the pair neared the carriage, her driver seeming to argue with the man.

  Not bothering to watch any further, Oliver rushed out of the room and tore down the three flights of stairs that separated them. While he had no idea why Julia had taken the book, it didn’t matter. That man had to be stopped before he abducted Julia. Oliver could only hope she’d show the same spirit she’d shown fighting off Malverson with this man.

  He threw open the door and ran down the front steps, only to watch as the carriage pulled away. “Halt!” But his demand fell on deaf ears as the driver flicked his reins to urge the horse faster.

  Oliver ran after them but was no match for the horse and carriage. They quickly outdistanced him, rounding the corner and disappearing out of sight. Out of breath, he turned and ran back home.

  His heart had left his chest. He was certain of it. And it had nothing to do with running.

  “Damn it to hell.”

  The idea of Julia in Smithby’s possession made the rage he’d tried so hard to control threaten to explode. He tried to think logically, to understand what had happened so he could anticipate their destination.

  Smithby had to be behind this. His man must’ve either followed Victor here or, as Oliver had thought earlier, already been following Oliver.

  That detail was irrelevant. Nothing mattered except where the man had taken Julia. How could Oliver find them when he had no idea where they’d gone?

  He hurried back inside, calling for Tubbs as he entered. He’d have a horse readied so he could pursue them.

  “My lord?” Tubbs rushed into the foyer.

  “A man just took Lady Julia,” Oliver explained between breaths.

  Tubbs hurried away to call for a footman to have a horse prepared.

  Only a few minutes had passed when a knock sounded at the door.

  Oliver jerked it open to find Hawke’s fist poised to knock again. He’d never been so relieved to see his friend. “One of Smithby’s men has Julia.”

  “What?” Hawke’s brow furrowed at his news. “When?”

  “Just now. I couldn’t catch the carriage.”

  “We’ll take mine.” Hawke started out the door where his waited. “Perhaps we can catch them.”

  Oliver turned to Tubbs. “Wait here for the doctor. Be sure he does all he can to aid Victor.”

  “Be careful, my lord. Don’t worry about the lad. I’ll go check on him now.”

  In short order, he and Hawke were traveling in the direction Oliver had seen Julia’s carriage go as quickly as the traffic permitted.

  “If we don’t catch sight of them soon, I think we should return to the warehouse we previously watched,” Hawke suggested.

  “Agreed.” Oliver stared out the window despite his limited view, his frustration building with each moment that passed.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Victor managed to steal The Book of Secrets and bring it to me. He was stabbed in the process, but I don’t know where he was when this occurred.” Oliver continued to explain what had happened before Hawke’s arrival.

  “We must devise some sort of plan to free her when we find her,” Hawke said as the carriage rushed through the streets.

  While Oliver was grateful he didn’t say “if,” he still glared at his friend. “I intend to tear the place apart until I find her.”

  “I appreciate how worried you must be, but we must proceed with caution.” When Oliver didn’t respond, Hawke added, “You won’t be able to save her if you’re dead.”

  Oliver closed his eyes, trying to push back the rage and acknowledge the wisdom of his friend’s words. “We aren’t in a position to negotiate. Smithby will have both Julia and The Book of Secrets. If we involve the police, I fear that will only put Julia’s life in further jeopardy.”

  “True.” Hawke scowled.

  “Allow me to handle this,” Oliver suggested. “I don’t want you to be in danger. You have Miss Fairchild to consider.”

  Now Hawke turned to glare at Oliver. “Have you lost your wits? You can’t believe for even a moment that I’d allow you to attempt a rescue on your own.”

  “It’s far too dangerous for a man soon-to-be married,” Oliver argued.

  “Perhaps we can find a way to break in through a window or the rear door,” Hawke continued as though Oliver hadn’t spoken. “We need to employ something unexpected. An event that would take Smithby off guard.”

  Oliver clenched his jaw. Hawke was right. He had to use his head and apply a strategy. The only weapon he had was the knife he kept tucked in the top of his boot. “Very well. Any ideas?”

  “None at the moment. Perhaps a brilliant idea will arise upon our arrival.”

  “If we’re right about where the man is taking her.”

  “One can hope. Why did he take her? Why not simply retrieve the book and flee?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe the man worried that she’d raise the alarm if he left her behind.”

  “Where was she going with it?”

  “I don’t know. I can only guess that she wanted to show it to her father.” Oliver’s heart twisted painfully. Why hadn’t she told him that was her intention? All of the possible answers left him with the same terrible feeling—because she didn’t trust him, because she didn’t intend to see him again, because...

  “No purpose can be served in guessing. We’ll find out soon enough once we save her.”

  Oliver drew in a deep breath, grateful for Hawke’s confidence.

  “May I ask if you’ve decided what your intentions are toward Julia?”

  “At this moment, I have no idea.” Equal parts of him wanted to throttle her or hold her and never let her go.

  “Ah.” Hawke put emphasis on the word that had Oliver staring.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “Your confusion is an answer in itself.”

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  “All right.” Hawke looked out the window as though to check their progress.

  “What?” Oliver’s annoyance was growing by the moment.

  “I am agreeing with you.”
r />   “No, you’re attempting to placate me. Speak plainly.”

  Hawke turned back to him. “I felt the same way. It’s easier if you just go along with it.”

  “With what?” Oliver was so exasperated he could hardly form a response.

  “With love.” He held Oliver’s gaze, offered a small smile then looked back out the window, leaving Oliver reeling.

  A roaring sound echoed in his ears. Never mind that he’d already suspected a similar thing himself. Now he knew beyond a doubt. This feeling of not being able to breathe without her yet feeling so unsettled when he was with her had only one explanation.

  Love.

  Yes, that was it exactly. He wasn’t certain if she felt the same, and that was the worst feeling of all. There was nothing to be done about it except tell her. To ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

  He only hoped he had the chance to do so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “No possible good can arise from piecing and patching with creditable stuff the old cloak of sin they [small criminals] were clothed in at their birth, and have worn ever since, till it has become a second skin to them.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Julia glanced about as she stepped out of the carriage, all too aware of the pistol pointed at her back. The briny scent of the Thames was impossible to ignore, as was the factory smoke that hung in the air. This rough neighborhood near the docks suited her escort far better than Oliver’s neighborhood had, but she felt completely out of place.

  “Give me the book,” the man demanded for what must’ve been the tenth time.

  “As I told you before, Mr. Crawford, I’m not giving it to you. You’ll have to shoot me and pry it out of my dead hands.” Julia was determined not to relinquish the book. Not when it was her fault that it was about to be returned to Smithby. She had to think of some way to keep it and could only hope Crawford would not call her bluff. She’d insisted he tell her his name if he was going to point the pistol at her.

  The man had already tried to wrest it from her grip as soon as he’d forced her into the carriage, ensuing in a physical struggle. She’d apparently surprised him with both her stubbornness and her hold on the book.

  A passage she’d read in the Seven Curses had come to mind about criminals being remorseful when they were reminded of their mother. Whether it’d been her asking what his own mother might think of his conduct or her ferocious behavior, he’d soon given up. Perhaps brawling with a lady was beyond his pay scale. Of course, he’d been trying to take the book with only one hand as he refused to relinquish the pistol.

  He seemed uncertain how to deal with her, making her hazard a guess that he rarely, if ever, spoke to ladies.

  She’d done her best to keep him talking during the remainder of the short journey, hoping to learn something that would help Oliver in his pursuit of Smithby. She’d also hoped she might charm the man into releasing both her and the book. Unfortunately, he seemed as determined as she.

  “Ye’d be far better off givin’ me the blasted book and leavin’ with yer life than meetin’ my boss.” Though Mr. Crawford was apparently reluctant to shoot her, thank goodness, she had no doubt he’d do so if forced.

  “I’m anxious to meet him,” she lied as she halted next to the carriage, doing her best to delay the meeting. She hoped Oliver realized what had occurred and given chase. The longer she loitered here, the better chance he had of locating her. Once she disappeared inside one of these buildings, the likelihood of him finding her dropped to nil.

  Mr. Crawford shook his head. “Smithby won’t be pleased.”

  “Surely he’ll appreciate you retrieving his book.”

  The glare he gave her was potent enough to wilt flowers. She did her best to ignore it.

  Glancing about as casually as possible, she searched for Oliver. There was no sign of him, leaving her to assume he hadn’t realized where she’d gone. Fear and despair warred within her. She wrapped her arms tighter about the book. She had to find a way to escape with it. That was the only option. But how?

  A glance at her driver showed his worried gaze watched her. She couldn’t expect him to do anything while she was being threatened with a gun. The few people walking past showed no interest in aiding her. How else could she save herself and the book?

  “Which building are we entering?” she asked, well aware that her driver listened closely.

  “You’ll see soon enough.” The man glared up at her driver. “Off with ye.”

  “But—”

  “If ye value her life, begone with ye.”

  “Get help,” Julia called out as Crawford grabbed her arm and forced her to proceed toward one of the nearby buildings.

  “Shut yer mouth.”

  “You can’t expect me to go quietly.” She jerked her arm free then stepped forward to run only to be caught again.

  If she hadn’t borrowed the book to begin with, none of this would be happening. His grip on her arm was a painful reminder and did nothing to calm her panic.

  “Give me the damned book.”

  “Stop asking,” she suggested, trying to make her voice sound calm when she was anything but.

  “I’m not askin’ ye, I’m tellin’ ye.” The irritation in the man’s tone should’ve frightened her along with his hold on her. But in truth, she was getting a little irritated herself. Anger felt better than fear.

  “The answer is still no.” She held the book all the tighter, twisting away when he tried to take it. “What would your mother say about your actions?”

  She leveled him a look that would’ve sent a gentleman at a ball scurrying away. Unfortunately, it seemed to have little effect on this man.

  “Fine. Ye can argue with Smithby. I’m warnin’ ye now, he ain’t goin’ to like it. Or ye, for that matter.”

  The look in his dark eyes matched the sneer on his face, sending a shiver coursing through her. But he only turned to knock on the warehouse door.

  After a few short moments, the door unlocked and cracked open. “Who the—”

  “Open the damned door,” Crawford demanded.

  “What are ye doin’? Who’s she?” The glare the other man gave her and Crawford had Julia thinking twice. Perhaps she should hand over the book and escape while she could. Surely there would be a way to retrieve it later.

  When Crawford’s grip tightened on her arm, she knew she’d come to that realization too late. He shoved her through the door as the other man stepped back.

  The damp coolness of the warehouse sank into her bones. Aisles between piles of carpets, boxes, and crates served as walkways. Nearly a dozen men worked inside, either loading items onto small carts or hauling them away. The sheer quantity of articles was impressive, and the goose pimples that came over her had more to do with the seriousness of this situation than the temperature.

  The chances of her escaping appeared slimmer than ever.

  As fear settled in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t help but think with regret of the earlier events that led to this.

  And Oliver.

  The lump in her throat had her swallowing hard as Crawford shoved her forward again. She should’ve handled things differently with Oliver. She should’ve found the courage to tell him how she felt. Surely she could convince him that he cared for her as well. Perhaps if she confessed her fear, he might understand and even help her with it.

  Love was a gift, and she was choosing to toss it away rather than risk embracing it. Didn’t that make her as bad as her mother? Certainly she’d never leave her father to fend for himself but was there a compromise that might allow her to have both a life of her own and her father’s good health?

  If she saw Oliver again—

  No, when she saw Oliver again, she would tell him how much she loved him.

  The breath she drew hitched. Now she need only find a way to untangle herself from this mess.

  ~*~

  Oliver jumped out of the carriage before it had drawn to a
stop and searched the area near the warehouse. His heart sank. Nowhere did he see Julia. The anger that had been his companion since she’d been taken colored his vision, slowing his thoughts.

  “My lord?”

  He turned to see a carriage approaching, the driver waving to gain his attention—Julia’s driver. Hope burned bright once again, lifting the fog of anger.

  “Where is she?” Oliver asked as the man drew to a stop.

  “That man took her into a building two streets over. He’s got a gun, but she wouldn’t give him the book. I was on my way to find the police when I came upon you.”

  “Show us.” Oliver gestured for Hawke’s driver to follow and stepped up to ride beside Julia’s driver.

  The man found a place to turn the horse and carriage and returned to the warehouse he’d seen Julia enter, informing Oliver of what little he knew during the brief ride. The poor driver was distraught but had been able to do little while Julia’s abductor had threatened her with a gun.

  Oliver glanced back, noting Hawke’s carriage directly behind them.

  “Find a policeman. Preferably more than one,” Oliver ordered as he hopped down. “We’re going to need all the assistance we can get.”

  “Of course, my lord.” With a flick of his reins, he was gone.

  Hawke alighted from his carriage, cane in hand. “Which building is it?”

  Oliver pointed to a two-story red brick warehouse a few doors away.

  “Good thing her driver found us.” Hawke shook his head as though amazed at their luck. “Otherwise, we might not have found her. This location is new to me.”

  Oliver shuddered at the thought. He stared at the building, trying to determine their next step. His rage shortened his breath. It required all his control to stop himself from banging on the door and demanding her freedom. That would only put her in more danger. “Any grand ideas?”

  Hawke scowled. “None. You?”

  “How did you get in the warehouse when you confronted Smithby the last time?”

  “I opened the door and walked in. But I wouldn’t recommend it—I knew the police were on their way.”

  “Only you would be so reckless. I sent Julia’s driver for the police, but I’m not certain we can count on them coming to our aid. Allow us to find out what we’re up against.” Knowing how many men were in there along with the layout of the building and where Julia was would help.