“I’m sure you will. But you won’t meet him out here, that’s for certain.”
Oh, Stuart, you have no idea how wrong you are. “It seems you’ll have more introductions to make on my behalf, then.”
“Actually, Peach,” Stuart said as he undid the buttons on his frock coat and checked his watch, “I’ve got a bit of business to attend to. Can you manage on your own for a time? I won’t be but half an hour, if that.”
“Business, at this hour?” Georgia frowned at her brother.
“My presses never stop. Therefore my problems arise at all hours.” It was a weak maxim Stuart quoted entirely too often.
“I am all too well acquainted with the notion,” she replied. “Very well, do what you must. I’ll be in the parlor searching out heroes.”
Her brother’s face darkened slightly. “Do find him, Georgia. I need to know who he is.”
“So do I.” She said a quick prayer that God would keep Stuart or anyone else from finding the hat and mask before Matthew did, and left Stuart to do whatever it was that needed doing “at all hours.”
Matthew was doubling back for his hat and mask when he saw that the terrace was not empty. Stuart was pacing it, and there was no sign of Matthew’s belongings. Georgia must have been clever enough to whisk them from sight in the nick of time. But why was Waterhouse out here when he had a houseful of guests to attend?
Matthew hung back in the shadows, watching. Stuart snapped his watch open and shut. Twice. He was meeting someone. Someone who was late, from the looks of his impatient frown. After a moment of two, Dexter Oakman walked out onto the terrace.
“Well,” barked Stuart the minute Oakman had shut the French doors behind him. “What’s the matter? I’m in the middle of something, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“There’s a problem,” said Oakman, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his balding forehead. It wasn’t that warm an evening, something else was making him sweat.
“Well, I gathered there was a problem. I doubt you pulled me out here just to compliment me on the decorations.” Stuart’s voice took on a snarl Matthew had not heard before.
“There’s a new policeman on the force. He’s the problem I told you about before. We haven’t been able to find a sufficient…incentive to get his cooperation. He’ll be on the docks Thursday when the shipment comes in.”
Incentive? Cooperation? Was Oakman talking about bribing someone? And whose shipment? Stuart’s? He had his fingers in dozens of businesses around the city—importing could easily be one of them. Or, worse yet, were they discussing one of Covington Enterprises’ own shipments?
“So offer him more money,” Stuart replied, as if it were as simple as that. “It’s taken me months to set this up. You know I can’t afford to have this one go wrong. So find his price and pay it. Covington’s got boxes coming in all the time. It shouldn’t pose that big a problem, Dex.” Stuart stared straight at Oakman, turning his back to Matthew in the process. From the look on Oakman’s face, Stuart’s expression must be deadly. “Your job is the easy part,” he snarled. “Three hours. In the middle of the night, for that matter. Just get the opium off the boat and get Covington markings on the crates. Everyone suspects the Chinese, so no one’s even looking our way.” Stuart threw down a white ribbon he was holding and swore liberally. “Even my sister could do this. Get it done or I’ll find someone else who can.”
“I will,” Oakman promised.
“Yes, you will. You will or it’ll be the last thing you do for me. Now get out of here, and I don’t want to hear about any more problems.” He waved Dexter Oakman away and cursed a bit more as the man fled off through the French doors. Stuart stood alone on the terrace for a minute, fuming, before he snatched up the ribbon again and left the terrace, muttering under his breath.
Matthew pushed out a breath. Dexter Oakman and Stuart Waterhouse? Trafficking? It seemed impossible to believe. He’d always assumed the men were friends, but what he saw tonight was not friendship.
It all clicked into place within seconds. The funds moving in and out of the books at odd places—they were to and from Stuart. The extra personnel hid payoffs. And for as many crates that came onto the docks under the Covington stamp, a few more, for something as small and disguisable as opium, would slip by with ease. Stuart was right—everyone assumed opium the territory of the Chinese. No one would be looking for a well-bred white man to be trafficking against their powerful smugglers. Matthew imagined the Chinese thugs called “highbinders” would be quite nasty to Stuart should they discover him muscling in on their dealings.
Covington Enterprises had been corrupted.
What’s more, Covington Enterprises had been corrupted by Dex Oakman working for Stuart Waterhouse. And who knew how many other Covington employees were under Stuart’s thumb? There must be more than Oakman by now. There’d be no end to the ugliness if this came to light. The weight of deceit Matthew had felt lifting off his shoulders just an hour earlier returned threefold.
His gut twisted. He’d just dispelled a lie, only to learn a far more gruesome truth.
Dear God, he cried out in the silence of his heart, what do I do now?
There were a dozen things he had to do. He had to get out of there and think—for a week, he guessed—about how to handle Covington Enterprises. He had to find a way to face Stuart Waterhouse calmly now that his stomach roiled in anger against the man—not to mention keep Dexter Oakman from suspecting he’d discovered something. He had to find a way to see Georgia again privately—although who knew what he’d say to her when he did. He had to go find Reverend Bauers and pray for guidance. He had to consult his father.
And all before Thursday. He sank down on his haunches at the base of a tree and shut his eyes. He’d read the story of Joshua and the walls of Jericho the other night. Another man facing an impossible challenge. Could You please send one of those angels, Father? The army of the Lord would be rather handy right now.
It had to start with Georgia. And it couldn’t start with her unless he could see her. Bauers could arrange it more quickly than anyone. Tonight, even. Matthew hated to end tonight’s happiness with such an ugly blow. Still, he had loved her enough an hour ago to give her the truth no matter the cost, and he would not stop now. She was like his Bible, he thought as he straightened up and put his hand over the book underneath his shirt. One could cut an enormous chunk out of her, and she’d still be able to do more good than most people. He just never thought he’d be the one wielding the knife.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Reverend Bauers wandered out of his bedchamber with the look of someone growing weary of being roused by an Englishman at all hours of the night. He managed a weak grin when he saw that Matthew was still dressed as the Bandit—whip, sword and all. It was near one o’clock in the morning.
“I half suspected,” Bauers said, yawning as he led Matthew into his study, “you’d come here tonight, but I thought you’d be glowing with happiness. You look dashing. And terrible.” He stifled another yawn. “What has happened?”
“Everything,” Matthew said, still working to keep the tidal wave of emotions from overtaking him. He slumped into a chair, planting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang. He looked at his polished black boots and thought sourly, I am no hero.
Bauers pulled a chair up next to him. “I was so sure she cared for you. I am sorry.”
Matthew looked up. “She does,” he said, a cockeyed smile flitting across his face. “I am in love. It is dreadful.”
The reverend looked puzzled. “I’ll admit you have some rather unusual circumstances, but most men do look happier when they say such things. What happened?”
“She did not believe me at first. I thought she would know, somehow, just by looking at me, but even when I told her…it took a moment.”
“You are the last person she would suspect,” Bauers offered. “I imagine she’s never had so great a surprise.”
Matthew’s heart t
urned over in his chest when he remembered the look in her eyes. “It was wonderful.” He cast his gaze over to Bauers, who still appeared confused as to why a man who has just kissed the woman he loves seemed as if he were to be hanged within the hour. “And then it all fell to pieces.”
“How?”
“We were almost interrupted by Stuart, but I managed to escape while Georgia held him off. I left my hat and mask, though, so I went back a few moments later. That was where I overheard Stuart and Dexter Oakman on the terrace.” Matthew scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue suddenly flooding him. “I’ve been seeing trouble in the Covington books. Signs of wrongdoing, but nothing I could put a finger on. But it’s them.”
“What do you mean?” Bauers asked, still confused.
“Waterhouse and Oakman. They’ve been collaborating. Conspiring, actually. They’ve got a plan to traffic opium through Covington Enterprises. I believe the first shipment is to arrive Thursday night.”
Bauers’s face paled. “I find that hard to believe. Opium? Even Stuart would not fall in league with that lot.”
“He’s not,” said Matthew darkly. “He’s crossing them.”
“Going against the highbinders? For opium? They’ll have him killed.”
“He wouldn’t be the first.” Matthew looked gravely at Reverend Bauers. “Or the last.” He voiced the thought that had driven him here in the middle of the night. “They’d harm Georgia if they thought it would be the way to Stuart.”
“I wish I could say you exaggerate. But I don’t think you do.” Bauers sighed heavily. “What ugliness. I do not think highly of Stuart Waterhouse, but even I would think him above this.”
“The shipment must already be en route. We cannot stop it now. So the question becomes what do we do when it gets here?”
Bauers’s expression echoed Matthew’s thoughts: there were no good choices. Every option had terrible consequences. “The true question is what are you going to tell Georgia?”
It felt as if all Matthew’s breath ran out of his body. “I must tell her. She needs to be part of whatever is decided.”
Reverend Bauers looked relieved. “I am glad you see it that way.” He leaned closer. “Still, can you not also see God’s timing in this? It is no mistake that you are here, now, with her. That you were the one to discover this. Can you take heart from knowing this must surely be part of God’s plan?”
“I should, but I’m finding it rather difficult to get past the disaster part. I do not care for the Lord’s sense of timing on this.”
Bauers put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I have a friend who once said that what we think of as disaster and calamity is often God’s prelude to a mighty victory. After all, it takes a big problem to let God show how powerful He can be.”
“In that case, I believe we qualify for a miracle.” Matthew looked at the reverend. “Can you get her here? Now? Under some pretense?”
“Do you not think that a little rest might give you a clearer head? The dawn will not make things worse, but it might clear your thinking. You are welcome to stay here if you like, but perhaps you might want to get out of those clothes.”
Matthew pulled himself off the chair and paced the room. “I’m exhausted, but I’m too angry to sleep. He’s a weasel. A thoughtless, spineless snake without a moral to his name.” He turned on the reverend. “What right does he have to take the Covington name down with him? To endanger Georgia? I have never been a man prone to violence, but so help me, Bauers…”
The reverend grabbed his arm. “All the more reason to put a little time behind you before you see Georgia. You’ve got to have your head about you when you tell her. You owe her that much.”
Georgia woke to find her inkwell still open, her pen still lying atop the journal beside her on the bed. She’d written pages upon pages after retiring last night. The remainder of the party seemed a blur of unnecessary introductions, distracted small talk and secretive glances around the room. Part of her knew Matthew would be gone after their encounter on the terrace, yet part of her still surveyed the party on the slim chance he dared to stay.
Did he feel the way she did this morning? As if the world had begun turning in a new fashion? As if everything were too wonderful? Their circumstances had not changed; all the reasons why they could have little time together were still there. Yet when she thought of him and what it had felt like to settle into his strong arms last night, the obstacles seemed smaller. She knew one thing for certain: no matter what the future held, she would not have traded last night for all the world. Even though he did not know the half of what he’d done, Stuart had given her the most marvelous present ever. The fact that she would be presenting Reverend Bauers with a generous contribution later today was just God’s overabundant blessing.
You knew all along, didn’t You, Father? You knew he was there, but You knew the steps I needed to take to find him. The Bandit, the ball, I accomplished those things with the gifts You gave me. You’ve blessed me with courage and confidence, and rewarded me with love.
Love. Did she love him? Her heart answered with a cautious, exhilarated “yes.” As if it felt too new to say for certain. She had loved parts of two men, knowing the impossibility of both. Now those two men had become one, and impossibility didn’t seem…well, impossible. Did everyone newly in love feel as if nothing was beyond them? As if the combination of their hearts rendered all obstacles defeated?
England was still England. California was still California. Stuart, for that matter, was still Stuart. But Matthew was the Bandit. And that changed everything.
Georgia watched Matthew pull the door shut. Reverend Bauers’s study was hardly a fitting place for such a meeting, but it was the most private, and inconspicuous, place possible.
Had Matthew been this handsome before? Surely he had not changed, yet Georgia could have sworn his eyes were a deeper blue, the cut of his shoulders broader, his voice smoother than yesterday.
He took her hand and kissed it as if it were the most precious thing God ever created. She’d rehearsed what she would say to him next time they stole a moment in private, and it came tumbling out of her at his touch. “I love you, and I don’t care if you have to go back to England, because last night was enough for a lifetime and I love you for letting me know the truth.” It came out in a gush of words, a single babbling exhalation that made her blush so fiercely she thought even the tops of her feet must be pink.
The resulting glow in his eyes surely turned her feet scarlet. He reached up and feathered his fingers against her cheek. He planted the tenderest of kisses where his fingers had been. It made her heart drop through her stomach.
“I had meant to be more elegant than that,” she added when she could finally open her eyes. “But you seem to make my sense leave me.”
Matthew circled her waist with his hands. “I don’t know what future God holds for us, Georgia. Especially now. But I do know that I love you. I loved you even before you were George. I love you doubly now, and I would not take last night back for anything.”
She’d thought, in her daydreams, that the moment they professed their love he would sweep her into a breathtaking kiss. She was sure of his words, but there was something dark lurking in his eyes, a tension in his face. “But what?” she said slowly, her intuition telling her all was far from well.
“But I do love you enough to offer you the truth,” he continued, choosing his words carefully, “and there is something you must know. Something I only learned last night. A very hard truth, Georgia.”
It seemed there should be something dramatic she should say. Something about drawing strength from love, or Paul’s words about welcoming trials, but none of them fit the deeply pained way Matthew was looking at her. Something was very, very wrong.
“What is it, Matthew?” she asked, as steadily as she could.
He shifted his feet, glanced away for a second and then gazed straight into her eyes. He’s gathering courage, she thought. Whatever c
an be so awful now?
“I have suspected for some weeks that all is not well at Covington Enterprises. Things have been…altered…for my arrival. Last night, after I left you, I discovered who has been planning crimes through Covington Enterprises and why.” His hands tightened around her waist. He shook his head and groaned. “I do not know how to say this easily.”
“Then simply say it,” Georgia said, fighting her growing sense of fear. He is leaving on the next ship, she thought. He’s to be arrested within the hour. Men are plotting his murder and he needs to run for his life. A thousand scenarios played out in her imagination. The horrible black hole in the pit of her stomach grew deeper with every look from him.
Matthew pulled in a shuddering breath. “The two men corrupting Covington Enterprises are Dexter Oakman and—and Stuart.”
Chapter Forty
Georgia registered the names, but her mind would not accept the concept. “Stuart?” She stared at Matthew as he waited patiently for her to wade through the shock of what he had just told her. “Stuart?” she repeated. “He has no reason to. I don’t understand.”
“I came back for my hat and mask after I left you last night. Stuart was still on the terrace, evidently waiting for Oakman. I overheard their conversation. They are planning to smuggle in opium and hide it within the Covington shipments. They’ve been paying off port officials and policeman for some time, evidently, and that’s what I’ve found hidden in the books.”
Georgia pulled her hands from Matthew’s. “Opium? The Chinamen’s drug?”
“I gather there’s a lot of money to be made in it. No one would suspect someone like Stuart. Or Covington Enterprises. Most consider it a purely Chinese affair.”
“Stuart? Involved in something like that? No. Stuart is misguided at times, but not this. Surely you misunderstood. Why ever would Stuart get involved? He’s no friend of the Chinese, and certainly not their crimes. Those highbinders—I’ve heard enough about those. They…they kill people over far less than opium.”
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