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

by Liza O'Connor

  Seth’s hands clenched in anger. “Then you told him wrong.”

  Xavier threw another knife, this one slicing the tip of Seth’s right ear.

  A string of curses spewed out as Seth clutched his wound.

  Xavier lifted another blade. “Lucky that didn’t hit your face. I imagine these leave ugly scars.”

  Seth hissed in frustrated fury. “You can have one of my men if you insist, just not Tubs.”

  Xavier’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Clearly, Seth had lost his mind. “I don’t want any of your men. I only want a man who has tired of working for you. All you’re going to do is kill him, which is not only a waste of your money, but bloody unfair since you never told him he couldn’t quit.” Xavier tried a different grip on the circular blade.

  “Don’t throw that!” Seth warned. “What do you mean killing him is a waste of my money?”

  “You owe me significant recompense. Unlike you, I actually value the man. But if you insist on killing him for breaking an unknown rule, then I’ll want ten thousand pounds.”

  “Ten thousand! Are you insane?”

  “No. I am addicted to opium and in great pain from my near lethal wound, but I am not insane. Angry? Yes. Angry enough to throw a lethal weapon?” Xavier laughed softly and smiled. “You have no idea the temptation…”

  Seth growled. “If I give you Tubs, what do I get in return?”

  “Your handsome face left intact?”

  “My face won’t do me much good if I’m swimming in the Thames.”

  “My refrain from killing you for the present,” Xavier offered.

  “I need more than that. I need somebody to take out Conrad Sweeny.”

  “Sorry, I’ll need to heal a bit more before I’m up to the task.”

  “I realize that, but you have people who can do it. Tell them they can either do it now while I’m in charge, or they can wait until I’m dead and have a bloody nightmare on their hands.”

  Xavier rolled his eyes. “Well, hopefully, they’ll listen better than you. Why didn’t you kill Conrad the first time you saw him as I advised?”

  Seth leaned forward. “Because he is my brother, damn you! It might mean nothing to you. It clearly means nothing to Conrad, but he is my brother and I could not betray him on your word.”

  Xavier almost felt pity for Seth. He could hear the pain in the bastard’s voice. He realized even now, Seth could not personally kill his half-brother. That’s why he wanted Xavier to do it.

  “I’ll see what I can do, but I am making no promises. However, if you plan to leave this room with your face unharmed, then we need to come to terms on my recompense.”

  “Will you take my letters for the money?”

  “No.”

  “Twenty percent interest?”

  Xavier toyed with the blade. “No.”

  Seth sighed. “Then you get Tubs.” He started to stand, but stopped at the sight of the blade in Xavier’s hand. “Are we done here?”

  Xavier set down the blade. “I thank you for bringing me all these toys. But given your circumstances, I think you should take your gun back.” Xavier handed it to him.

  Seth gave a bored sigh, as if these games had tired him to the bone. However, a second after he touched the barrel of the gun, he flipped it into his hand, aimed it at Xavier’s head and pulled the trigger.

  The gun clicked.

  Xavier smiled. “Glad to see you aimed for my ear. Otherwise, I might be inclined to rid the world of you now, before I ask my friends for a favor.” He held out his hand and showed Seth the bullets he had removed from the gun. “Tubs, are you out there?”

  A low voice rumbled from the other side of the door. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, come in here and escort Seth out.”

  The giant entered and took note of the blades and knives sticking in the back wall, and Seth’s bleeding ear.

  “Tubs, I have wonderful news. Seth, accepts your resignation, and you are forthwith a free man to work where you like. However, I hope you will remain in my employ a long while.”

  A black gruesome smile stretched across the man’s face.

  Xavier handed him the bullets. “Give these to Seth once he’s in his carriage. He’ll probably need them on his way home.”

  Xavier returned his attention to Seth. “I would give you suggestions on how to go forward, but I’m tired of having my advice ignored. So, let me just wish you luck and leave it at that.”

  Once Seth was gone, Xavier resumed reading Vic’s notes where she finally described her erroneous actions. How could she make such a foolish misstep? Why had he never taught her proper procedure for rescuing multiple people?

  But he knew why. He had always assumed when the moment came, he would be there with her, to teach her on the job.

  He needed to assess and fill in these gaps of knowledge as soon as possible. Had she been harmed from this error, the fault would have been entirely his.

  “Before this year is out, Vic, I will teach you everything I know. You will be ready for any circumstance.”

  He took a deep breath and refocused on her notes.

  My background on one of the servants held in Dragon’s Cloud enabled Inspector Stone to locate two nuns from the girl’s orphanage to go before the Queen and plead for intervention. I was not convinced Laura was the best choice since the Queen is reputed not to like Catholics. However, to Stone’s prediction, the Queen used this rescue to prove her issue was with the Pope, not her Catholic subjects.

  The newspapers loved Laura, emphasizing her beauty and her continued commitment to God throughout her tribulations.

  Because of the overwhelming public adoration for Laura, not only Jonston, but also Angela Campbell and Mr. Robinson were arrested for fifty-seven counts of abduction and enslavement. (Note: While there were ninety-eight slaves rescued, the prosecutor presented only the cases where the servants had pristine histories before their abductions.)

  All three remain in jail awaiting their trials. If found guilty of all counts, they will spend the remainder of their lives in prison. I asked Stone to suggest to the prosecutor that all the servants enslaved should receive compensation for their years of unpaid service, funded by the sale of Robinson’s home and automobile. I remain hopeful.

  And as to Mary Campbell, she disappeared along with Robinson’s thirty thousand pounds. She forged a letter of authority and collected the money from the bank on Friday. Ironically, Mr. Robinson planned to use the money to buy his release from jail. Unfortunately, his authorized person arrived two hours after Mary had claimed her prize.

  Finding the missing servant, yet again, was a bit of a challenge. On a hunch, I followed the purchase trail of twenty miniature ponies and located her at a leased estate in Kensington. She was not pleased to see me, and if not for Mr. Tubs’ presence, I believe she would have tried to kill me to maintain the secret of her whereabouts. I assured her I had only come to verify she was fine and to close out my assignment.

  She claims she intends to live a quiet life without any men in sight for the rest of her life. (Note: her staff consists only of young girls. I suspect she chose them because they are easier for a woman who looks like a child to command.)

  Xavier shook his head. “My poor naïve Vic!”

  I hope she succeeds in that endeavor, but given her rapid consumption of money and her propensity towards violence, I believe her future will not be so benign.

  Xavier sighed. “I fear you are right. Nothing good comes from bad seed.”

  He called for Davy.

  Within a second, his driver stuck his head in the door.

  “Davy. It is time for my tonic now.”

  Chapter 23

  Xavier was resting in the clouds admiring Vic’s floating face when a sharp slap pulled him from his dreams.

  “Xavier, wake up. Why won’t he wake?” a familiar female voice demanded.

  “Hit him again, and I’ll remove you,” Davy warned.

  “Do you know who I am?” />
  “Yes ma’am, or otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you come up here at all. But being Victor’s sister doesn’t give you the right to hit Mr. Thorn.”

  “I can have you fired,” she warned.

  “No ma’am, you can’t.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  The idea of pretending further sleep was tempting, but knowing Claire she’d probably wouldn’t leave until she scolded him for whatever she and Gregory disapproved of now. He opened on his eyes and struggled to focus on the beauty before him. “Claire, I’m trying to rest. Can this not wait until I’m better?”

  While he’d thought her charming at first, either she’d worsened over the last year or he had begun to pick up the nuances that turn pleasant words into scolds, but in either case, he had grown annoyed with the constant harping poor Vic endured from her younger sister. Instead of answering him, Claire headed to the door and opened it.

  He could not believe she was going to leave, but damned if he would stop her.

  “Leave,” she commanded Davy. His driver crossed his arms, but didn’t move from the corner.

  Fury radiated from her eyes.

  “It’s all right. Davy. I’m awake now.”

  With a scowl and slow dragging feet, Davy left the room. Claire closed and locked the door after him, then turned, giving Xavier her sweetest smile. Despite the lethargy caused by the opium, his sense of danger quadrupled.

  She returned to the bed and sat beside him, placing her gloved hand upon his bare chest. “How are you feeling?”

  Xavier removed her hand and pulled up the sheet so it covered his chest. “What do you wish to scold Vic about now?”

  “I’m not here about Vic. I came to see how you are. I miss your company at dinner.” She flashed him another smile and gripped his hand in hers.

  He tugged his hand away and ran it through his hair. “Claire, stop with the games. Just say whatever it is you came here to say.”

  “Always to the point. I like that, for I am much the same, albeit with more finesse. But women are always better at handling people.”

  He toyed with the idea of walking to the door and tossing her out, but three problems kept him in bed. First, she was Vic’s sister and his pup loved her. Second, trying to stand would likely reinjure his chest wound, and third, he needed his fading strength to deal with whatever danger Claire had just brought to his door or, in this case, bed. “What do you want?”

  She smiled at his question, and placed her hand upon the sheet covering his chest. “I have a proposition for you, one that will serve all involved. It will ensure Vic and your secret remains safe and enable me to become a mother.”

  “You wish to become a mother? Won’t that impede your scientific pursuits?”

  “I’m certain I can do both if I engage a nursemaid and a nanny.”

  That had been his parents’ stance as well. Have a child and shunt him off to the care of nannies, nursemaids, and tutors until he became of age to go to boarding school. “And what exactly is this plan that allows you to bear children you will rarely see?”

  “I would have thought you could deduce the answer by my statement.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I might be able to conceive a possibility, if it were not entirely unthinkable. So tell me straight out what you are proposing?”

  “It’s a simple and obvious solution. You and I will marry. Then we will all live together in my house. I will have Jonas and you will have Vic.” Her hand slipped onto his chest again.

  Disregarding the pain, he pushed himself up. “Listen to me carefully, Claire. There is only one person I love and will ever marry, if she wishes it. I cannot believe you would ever suggest this solution. I assure you, Vic would never agree to such an arrangement. She is very possessive of me.”

  “She’ll get over it. It’s not as if she wishes to be a wife.”

  “Which suits me fine, since I’ve no bloody use of such.”

  “But you do! Otherwise, your relationship with Vic will be discovered. There are only two bedrooms in this house and there are four men living here. What will people say about that?” She stroked his cheek. “You need me as much as I need you.”

  He knocked her hand away. “Tubs, come remove this woman! Tubs!” Within seconds the key fell from the lock and the door burst open. The giant picked Claire up and carried her from the room. Claire did not go quietly, but soon silence returned. Davy came in to check on him. “You all right?”

  “Davy, where is Tubs sleeping?”

  “In the basement. We cleaned the place up, and Vic painted the stone walls so they aren’t so dreary. Tubs says it’s the nicest place he’s ever lived and likes the solitude. He had to sleep on the floor with sixteen other men when he worked for Seth.” Davy paused and scratched his head. “Why’d you ask about Tubs sleeping space?”

  “No reason of importance. Bring me a shot of my medicine so I can return to sleep.” He expected Davy to argue, but the man nodded and left

  He did not look forward to sharing this with Vic, but she needed to hear it from him before Claire provided some distorted view of the matter.

  Marry Claire indeed. Hell will freeze over first.

  Chapter 24

  Vic’s newest client, Mrs. Eaton, pointed to her parlor wall. “As you can see, I have many paintings of my dearest, Lady Love.”

  Vic stared in amazement. Never had she seen so many different styles and mediums placed together on one wall. The overall effect was an assault on her senses and would have made a curator faint.

  To preserve her sanity, she focused on one at a time. The first portrait had a strange elongated creature that looked to be half-animal, half-woman writhing in pain as a coral snake tightened around her neck.

  “That portrait is by Leon Baskst, a Russian artist, well respected in Paris. He has recently founded the World of Art Group and in appreciation of my support for his group, he so kindly painted my precious cat, Lady Love.”

  The artist seemed to have drawn a tortured form that resembled Mrs. Eaton with cat whiskers and then strangled her with a coral snake. Vic suspected the fellow resented painting a cat and only did so to acquire a substantial financial gift.

  She moved on to the stark photograph showing the cat staring up at the ceiling’s corner. A pail and broom rested to one side creating an uneasy imbalance to the shot. Vic leaned in to look at the cat’s collar. It was almost two inches wide, studded with jewels.

  “Tell me about this collar your cat wears?”

  “Oh, it’s very fine. I had it made especially for her. This picture doesn’t do it justice. I asked Mr. Atget if he could color in the diamonds and sapphires.” She shook her head in annoyance. “You would think I had asked to repaint the Sixteenth Chapel!” She pouted at the picture. “I wish he would not have shot Lady Love in the kitchen. She looks to be in a hovel!”

  “He probably did it for contrast.” Vic noticed Lady Love focused on a spider high in the corner. Jewels or not, she was still a cat.

  Mrs. Eaton huffed. “Yes, he said something about it being a sublime representation of the ‘new world,’ but honestly all I wanted was a nice photograph. And the shot is only of her back. You can’t even see her beautiful face.”

  Vic moved to the next painting and blinked several times searching for a cat in the picture. All she could locate were white half circles on red and tiny blue elliptical patches slightly to the left of center.

  “Giacomo Balla, such a sweet young Italian. He’s part of the impressionist movement.” She smiled and sighed. “I did enjoy his visit.”

  Looking at the blush upon her face, Vic suspected she enjoyed the artist, rather than his art. Moving on to the next, her hope of discovering what the cat actually looked seemed likely. The colorful watercolor had an identifiable cat, sleeping in a bay window. She leaned in to study the cat’s face and collar.

  Mrs. Eaton sighed. “I’m most disappointed with Mr. Bonnard’s painting.”

  “Really?” Thus far, Vic liked i
t the best.

  “Oh, it’s a lovely painting, I’ll grant you. But that is not my bay window, and that is certainly not Lady Love.”

  “What about the collar?”

  Mrs. Eaton moved in and glared at the collar. “I’ll grant you the collar looks correct, but not Lady Love! See how her nose juts out.”

  Vic could see nothing objectionable about the cat’s nose. It looked like a normal cat.

  The next painting was a jarring mass of colors all dabbed heavily onto the canvas. Only by stepping back could she identify the cat. Due to the color and treatment of the collar, painted six inches wide, Lady Love’s square head seemed to float above its body.

  “James Enso. His work is often mistaken for Van Gogh’s. What do you think?”

  The lady didn’t want to know what she thought. Focusing on the next painting, she had two reasons to hope this portrait was accurate. First, Mr. Rousseau painted with precision and secondly, the subject of the still life was the ugliest damn cat she had ever seen.

  Mrs. Eaton laughed softly. “I am almost embarrassed to show this one, for Mr. Rousseau is but an amateur…a retired clerk, but I love his painting. He didn’t argue when I said I wanted a still life with her resting among the family jewels. And look how lovely it came out.”

  “And did he paint Lady Love true to form?”

  Petting the frame, she nodded. “True to even the twirl of her longest whisker.”

  Poor animal. “What type of cat is that?”

  “She’s a Persian. Very rare and so beautiful.”

  Without doubt, the ugliest cat Vic had ever seen. She then refocused on the jewels on the finely reproduced collar. “How much is the collar worth?”

  “Twenty thousand pounds. I wanted another row of sapphires, but I feared it might be too much for poor Lady Love to carry. I would never wish to cause her harm.”