The Missing Partner (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 2)

by Liza O'Connor

  Claire smiled at her guests. “I must apologize for my brother…”

  “Don’t apologize for me. If an apology is warranted, I can rise to the task.” Vic then focused onto the young man who had been rude to her. “Now, where did you study?”

  “Oxford,” the young man replied with a haughty tone.

  “Odd, I don’t recall you.”

  The snooty fellow arched his brows. “Oh, did they let you in? How on earth did that happen?”

  Predictably, Claire rose to Vic’s defense. “My brother was an excellent student—top of his class. Had he continued, he would have become a formidable scientist.”

  The older gentleman, Mr. Simons, seemed intrigued. “Exactly why did you leave Oxford, Mr. Hamilton?”

  Vic was greatly pleased with his question. She had been wondering how she’d work around to this very conversation. “When our aunt died, I had to leave school and take employment to keep us fed and clothed.”

  Mr. Simon’s expression darkened. “You’ve taken employment?”

  “Yes, that’s what rational people do when they need to pay bills. Aunt Maddy raised us to be sensible if nothing else.”

  “But surely you had sufficient money to continue your education and…” he glanced at Claire, “and ensure your sister’s dowry.”

  “Not a shilling. I thought we might have to sell our home and move into some tidy cottage before I obtained a well-paying job working with Xavier Thorn.”

  Mr. Simon’s frown deepened. “Xavier Thorn?”

  “The finest sleuth in the country. I’ve learned so much under his tutelage. For example, I can easily discover the financial state and dirty secrets of any gentleman who might wish to marry my sister.”

  Vic’s declaration was more successful than she’d hoped. All three men recalled test tubes or papers requiring their immediate attention. When Jonas stepped out with the main course, only Vic and Claire remained at the table.

  Jonas set down the food and looked first at Claire and then Victor.

  Vic smiled with great satisfaction. “The vermin have left the house.”

  Claire rose and faced Vic. Tears welled in her eyes. “Not all of them. One vile creature remains.” She then ran from the room and Jonas abandoned his duties and ran after her.

  Gregory sighed heavily and cleared the table.

  Vic tried to retrieve her plate. “I’m still hungry.”

  Gregory harrumphed. “And you may remain so.”

  “Why am I being punished? I simply proved them to be pecuniary gold diggers.”

  “At what cost, Victor?” Gregory demanded and carried the plates to the kitchen.

  Vic followed, determined to reclaim her food. She had a long night ahead of her. She needed sustenance.

  Upon entering the kitchen, she heard Mrs. Yarrows give her notice to Gregory.

  “I quit, I do. He told them I’d poisoned the food, ruined my good name. I will not endure this a moment more!”

  Food could wait.

  Vic retreated to her room and threw herself on the bed. God, if only Xavier were here to hold her. He would appreciate her cleverness at getting rid of the men before Claire could form an attachment.

  Claire’s tears came to mind. Had she acted too late? Was her sister already in love with the dreadful Mr. Simon who talked on and on about his philosophy of life until Vic feared she’d fall into utilitarian madness?

  She hoped her sibling had better sense than to be taken in with such drivel. All that nonsense about striving for ‘greater happiness’ tempted her to invite the fellow to share his philosophy with the criminal element and discover their ‘happiness’ to strip him of his money, clothes, and dignity.

  His insistence that everyone must try the hedonistic pleasures of life before gaining the right to judge right and wrong was especially worrisome. Claire had seemed far too interested in that particular discussion.

  A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She sat up and called, “Enter.”

  Jonas came in with a plate of crepes in a delicate white wine sauce.

  At least someone appreciated her fine work tonight. “How’s Claire?”

  He walked over to her small table, swept a tablecloth upon it with one hand, and set her plate down. “She’s fine. She’s still mad at you, but I am to learn chemistry so she will have a person to talk and work with.”

  “I think that is a swell idea. You will make a much better conversation partner.”

  “Do you really think so?” Jonas looked up with concern and stepped back from the table.

  Vic took her seat and attacked the food while she continued their conversation. “Without question. Not only do I think you innately smarter, but you also understand a conversation requires two people speaking. Those pontificating vermin never once allowed Claire to make a single observation.”

  Jonas smiled for a moment, but then it faded. “I appreciate your effective removal of the vermin. I just wish it hadn’t put you in such hot water with Gregory and Claire.”

  “Claire will forgive me by tomorrow.”

  “She’s very angry.”

  “Why? I did her a favor!”

  “She is very fond of Mrs. Yarrows.”

  “The cook? She’s angry about the cook?”

  “When I told her I wanted to learn chemistry, she forgave you for frightening away her suitors, but when she learned Mrs. Yarrows had given her notice, she declared she’d never speak to you again.”

  Vic stopped eating the delicious food. To be honest, she’d miss the woman, as well. “Is the cook still here?”

  “She’s in her room packing. She says she’s leaving tonight.”

  Vic looked longingly at the food. She wished she had time to eat before talking to the cook, but she feared she only had minutes to intervene.

  “I suppose I should try to talk her out of leaving.”

  Jonas nodded but grabbed Vic’s arm. “Be careful, she has her butcher knives.”

  ***

  Vic knocked on the cook’s door. She could hear banging inside, but no call to enter. Taking in a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  The cook looked up and shook her head in dismay. “Your Aunt Maddy would be ashamed of how you’ve turned out! Accusing good people of poisoning the food, and telling the guests your hateful lies so they won’t eat a bite.”

  “I’m truly sorry, Mrs. Yarrows. I was so appalled with Claire’s suitors that I lost my head. I suggested poisoned food to drive them away, not to impugn your reputation. I should not have done it. I should have found another way. No matter how horrible they were, I should not have thrown you beneath the carriage to achieve my goal.”

  Vic noticed Mrs. Yarrows packed slower now, as if the cook contemplated the matter, so she added more tinder.

  “I was a desperate man. I had to be certain they left before dinner was over.”

  Mrs. Yarrows stopped packing and glared at Vic. “I spent days preparing that dinner. Why did you have to ruin it?”

  “Because the older man had suggested Claire and he explore the pleasures of the body later in the evening. Since I have to leave very soon on a case I’m working, I could leave no stone unturned in my attempts to remove him from the house.”

  Mrs. Yarrows sat down in her chair. Vic could tell by the way the woman crossed her arms, she was not yet convinced. “If he really said that, then you had cause to throw him out before dinner.”

  Vic sighed. “He didn’t say it straight out. He hid his proposal in fancy philosophical terms. Had I called him out, he would have declared I misunderstood him. I needed to unsettle him, so I answered his solicitation with a threat.”

  “You threatened him with my cooking, you mean.” Mrs. Yarrows’ outrage returned.

  Vic grimaced. She had definitely lost points there. “I couldn’t make it a direct threat, so I only said I hoped you hadn’t doctored the food.”

  Mrs. Yarrows returned to packing.

  “Please understand.
I had to protect Claire before I left tonight.”

  Mrs. Yarrows turned to her. “So what are you doing tonight that’s so important you felt it necessary to sacrifice my good name?”

  Vic closed the door to the room in case Gregory lurked nearby. “Do you remember Aunt Maddy’s friend Mrs. Carson?”

  “Yes, of course. She is a very nice woman. For Christmas she gave me a collection of spices from the Indies.”

  “Well, her sorry lot of a husband had her committed to an asylum, and tonight I’m going to rescue her.”

  Mrs. Yarrows sat down beside her case and pressed her hand to her chest. “My Lord…the poor woman!” A moment later, she jumped to her feet and tried to lead Vic to the door. “Do not wait another minute, Victor. Go now!”

  Vic stopped her. “I cannot just ask them to release her. We have to steal her away, and it’s a tricky business. Which is why you can say nothing to Gregory. If he thinks I am taking unnecessary risks, he’ll try to stop me. Then poor Mrs. Carson may truly lose her mind in that horrible place.”

  “You poor boy.” Mrs. Yarrows snared Vic in an embrace. “Here you are trying to save a dear woman’s life and keep Claire safe from lechers and I’m complaining about my besmirched reputation.”

  “Your reputation is pristine with those who matter,” Vic assured her. “However, it was wrong of me, and I am very sorry. Please don’t leave. We would never find a cook half so grand, and Claire would never forgive me for our loss.”

  Mrs. Yarrows kissed both of Vic’s cheeks. “I’m staying.”

  Having put things right with the cook, Vic’s attention turned to the picture of a woman and a young girl lying in Mrs. Yarrows’ suitcase. She picked it up.

  “Here now! Stay out my things!” Mrs. Yarrows scolded.

  “Who’s this?”

  Mrs. Yarrows sighed with heavy sadness. “It is my sister and her daughter. Now give it back.”

  Vic reluctantly returned it. “What are their names?”

  “Virginia and Sara, Mr. Nose-in-my-business.”

  Vic smiled. The girl looked like one of the maids she had met this morning. Her pleasure diminished as she recalled the girl’s current situation. “Do you stay in touch with them?”

  “They died in a fire two years ago,” she said, stroking the picture with affection.

  “Where?”

  Mrs. Yarrows frowned. “On Bleak Street. Now stop with the impertinent questions before I change my mind and leave.”

  Vic wanted to tell Mrs. Yarrows her niece still lived, but before she did, she needed to verify Sara the maid was indeed the cook’s niece.

  She had barely left her room when Gregory snared her arm.

  “Well?”

  “I apologized and explained my frame of mind. Mrs. Yarrows forgave me.” Vic didn’t expect her reply to hold off a long lecture about manners and courtesy. Thus, she was shocked when Gregory patted her back.

  “Then get back to your food before it spoils. I’ll give Claire the good news.”

  ***

  Vic had just finished the last bite of an exquisite dinner when Claire burst in the room and kissed the top of Vic’s head.

  “You can be most trying,” she scolded. “But your heart is always in the right place, even if your mouth runs amuck.” She laughed and sat on the bed. “Now you have declared us impoverished and living from month to month, I daresay your mouth will stay out of trouble, since you’ll have no one else to scare away.”

  “You really didn’t want them, did you?”

  “No. What I wanted was intelligent conversation. I miss Xavier’s company at dinner, and I hoped to replace it.”

  Vic frowned at her sister’s reply. What she wanted was for Claire to leave Xavier alone. Xavier was hers, and she had made that clear long ago. “Jonas says he wants to learn chemistry.” She thought this a fine and delicate reminder Claire had her own lover.

  Claire’s smile brightened. “He does, and you have no idea how happy it makes me. That he would learn just to please me—”

  Just to keep suitors at bay, more like it, Vic thought.

  “—reminds me how lucky I am. He is the perfect man for me, or will be once I make him a grand chemist.”

  Vic was fortunate she found Xavier perfectly to her liking, because she doubted he’d be half so obliging to change just because she wished it.

  Thinking of Xavier caused a cloud of doom to rain worries upon her. She would have to visit Inspector Stone tomorrow morning and ensure he had located her odiferous and hideous beggar man.

  Chapter 6

  Xavier lay in a smoky haze and pondered the strange images that floated in his head. The one he liked most was of a young man with intelligent blue eyes and an impish grin. He tried to stay with the image, determined not to lose it.

  All too soon the image faded and the cloud lifted from his mind. Excruciating pain filled the void. “Damnation!”

  Someone placed a wet cloth on his forehead.

  “Vic?” He grabbed the boney, small hand for a moment before it pulled away. Not Vic. He tried to open his eyes but something held them shut. His fingers investigated and discovered a tight cloth bound about his head, creating a blindfold. Before he could pull it away, someone tugged his wrist down and secured it to his side. He frowned upon determining his other limbs were tied down, as well.

  Evidently, he remained alive, but immobilized. He breathed in deeply and smelled an unpleasant musky odor, similar to, but not quite, pigeon droppings. An opium den.

  Now he understood his strange dreams and jumbled thoughts. How long had he been here and how much opium had he consumed? He hadn’t the time or fortune for another opium addiction. Damn it all! He might have to give up working for the government and take on endless paying clients.

  It would serve External Affairs right! This assignment damn near got him killed—still might get him killed.

  He winced as someone poked at the center of the fiery hole in his shoulder. He hoped they at least were cleaning the wound and not just tormenting him.

  “Where am I?” he asked, to see if they would talk to him and reveal something helpful.

  “You are safe, for the moment,” a man across the room replied.

  The voice sounded damn familiar. Xavier mentally cursed his foggy mind when it failed to come up with a name.

  Someone continued to prod the wound.

  “What do you want?” he hissed from the pain.

  Footsteps stormed toward him and the person burrowing about his wound stopped.

  “How did you learn of my plans?” The man’s voice now sounded as if it were inches above him.

  “I don’t even know who you are, and I certainly don’t know your plans.”

  His reward for such honesty was stomach-retching agony as the man drove something deep into his shoulder wound.

  “Damn you to hell!” Xavier cried out.

  “Get in line.” The sadist chuckled. “If curses worked, I’d have been in hell twenty years ago.” As he spoke these good-humored words, he continued to poke about the wound.

  “Just tell me what you want!” Xavier demanded through clenched teeth.

  “You know what I want and the sooner you tell me, the sooner we can end this.”

  Xavier shook his head, unable to remember what he wanted. Unfortunately, the man interpreted his headshake as a refusal and the torment increased by half. “Damn it! I cannot think in such pain.”

  The agony eased to a level of simple excruciation. “Tell me.”

  Xavier sighed. “If you want to have a rational discussion, then perhaps you can stop rooting about in my chest.”

  “If you want me to end your suffering, I suggest you tell me.”

  The man’s reply proved worrisome. The only way he could quickly end Xavier’s pain was to end his life. Not exactly the preferred outcome to this negotiation.

  As the man waited for his reply, Xavier breathed in deep. Besides the sweet coppery smell of blood and putridity, he caught a hint
of Indian spices. He took in a second breath and verified the scent. Adding this to his earlier conclusion he was in an opium den, his brain finally identified the owner of the voice. Seth Sojourn, one of the deadliest and most powerful criminal lords in London. Oddly, however, he was not the subject of Xavier’s current assignment.

  Xavier’s surveillance of the New Royal Exchange must overlap with whatever devious plan Seth had in the works. Which meant his current situation was nothing more than bad luck. “Did you know it was me, when you sent the boy to shoot a poor old beggar?”

  Seth laughed. “You are so vain! Standing at the precipice of death, all you wish to ensure is that your disguise was not flawed. Well, rest easy. The boy had no idea you were the infamous Sherlock Holmes.”

  “How long have I been here?” Xavier knew the First Minister would assume, incorrectly, the Mesmerist had him. Fortunately, their search would cover much of Sojourn’s territory.

  “Less than a day and already you are causing me more trouble than I wish. Now tell me who told you about my plans so I can get rid of you.”

  “Let us first negotiate my release.”

  “Are you mad? You have been the proverbial thorn in my side for years. Why on Earth would I let you walk out of here alive?”

  “I’m not up to walking, so I’ll need transport. And you’ll let me go because my death will cause you more trouble than my annoying life.”

  “And how is that?”

  The image of Victor came to his mind. “I have friends who will see you dead if I am not returned alive and in tolerable good health.”

  “I am bloody well aware of that. The streets are crawling with Queens Men and Rifles.”

  Xavier smiled. “They are but the first wave of your troubles. You’ll be wise to release me now.”

  “You know I cannot do that until the shipment is made. However, if you tell me who told you of my plan, I will consider releasing you once the ship has docked in Port Said.”

  So his merchandise was going to Egypt.

  “If you are waiting for my friends to stop looking for me, I fear your merchandise may spoil.”

  Seth laughed. “While young girls are only in full bloom a short time, I do believe your arrogance has overreached reality. Your friends will not search for you for years, nor could I endure your annoying company for so long.”