An Affair Without End

by Candace Camp

  “Yeah? Maybe I don’t want to answer them.” He looked at them suspiciously, but stayed where he was.

  “I doubt that a magistrate will be concerned with your wishes.”

  “A magistrate. I ain’t seeing no magistrate.” The man sneered.

  “No? Then I fear you will have to talk to me.”

  The man grinned and swung his large fist at Oliver. It would have been a hard blow had it landed, but Oliver easily ducked beneath the swing and came up hard, popping the other man in the nose. After a sickening crunch, blood spurted from his nose. The man swung again, enraged, and Oliver lightly sidestepped him, delivering two quick jabs to his opponent’s side. They continued in this fashion, with the larger man swinging his fists or trying to pull Oliver into a bear hug and Oliver darting in and out, his feet always moving as he ducked blows and delivered punches to the man’s torso and face.

  Finally, blinded by blood and fury, his opponent charged Oliver. Oliver jumped to the side, sweeping one leg out low in front of the man and connecting sharply with his shins. The man stumbled and crashed to the ground, and Oliver was immediately on him, one knee planted firmly in his back. He seized one of the man’s arms and twisted it painfully up behind him, so that the man could not move or buck him off without causing himself excruciating pain.

  “Perhaps now you’d like to answer my questions.”

  “Yes. Yes! All right. Just let go!”

  Oliver eased up on his hold. “You’ve been stealing jewelry the past few weeks.”

  “Not me! I swear! It’s others as does it. I just get it from them.”

  “Get it? They just give it to you?”

  “No, course not. I pay ’em.”

  “And then what do you do with it?”

  The man shrugged, and Oliver twisted his arm tighter. He let out a yelp. “All right! All right! I take it to somebody and he pays me.”

  “You pawn it, you mean? You sell it?”

  “No, I mean, yes, I guess I sell it to him.”

  “Who?”

  “No! I can’t tell you that!” The man turned his head toward Oliver as much as he could, his eye wheeling with fear. “He’d kill me, he would.”

  “The leader, you mean? The one who organizes it?”

  The man nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes. It’s him as runs it all. I don’t know nothing about the others.”

  “What others?”

  “The others he’s got stealing things. There’s more’n me. I’m just one.”

  “More intermediaries, you mean?” At the man’s blank expression, Oliver went on, “More chaps like you, with several people thieving for each of them.”

  “Yes!” The man nodded. “Yes. Men like that. There’s the ones that creep into houses and the ones that work round Drury, then the ones round the toffs’ gambling dens.”

  Oliver let up a little in astonishment. “How many of them are there?”

  At that moment the door to the tavern burst open and two men came tumbling out, followed by a swarm of their compatriots, all of them punching, swinging, and kicking. One of the combatants knocked into Vivian, sending her tumbling, and Oliver jumped up to try to catch her. He missed, and she went down, and one of the fighters reeled into Oliver. Oliver dispatched him with a swift uppercut, then shoved another fighter out of his way. By the time he reached Vivian and dragged her to her feet and out of the melee, the man he had been questioning was gone.

  Letting out a curse, Oliver whirled to see the fellow racing up the street, a good half block ahead of him and gaining speed. Oliver turned back to Vivian. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Nothing hurt but my dignity—and you know how little I have of that.” Vivian grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side as another tavern patron reeled backward toward him.

  Oliver took Vivian’s hand and hauled her away from the tavern. “I think it is time for us to depart.”

  They strode quickly down the block and turned the corner, heading toward Oliver’s carriage, which was parked unobtrusively down the side street. As they walked, a man and woman came into view at the next intersection. The woman carried a small dog that squirmed and wriggled, then jumped out of her arms and headed straight toward them.

  “Good God! Pirate!” To Oliver’s amazement, the dog made a flying leap, and Oliver automatically caught him.

  “That’s Cam!” Vivian exclaimed in a dumbfounded voice. “And my brother!”

  Camellia and Gregory, who had come dashing after the dog, came to a sudden halt, staring at them.

  “Cousin Oliver?” Camellia asked.

  “Oh, dear.” Gregory sighed in a resigned way. “Stewkesbury, I know you’ve every right to be furious, but—” He stopped and peered at Oliver’s companion. “Vivian?” His voice and eyebrows rose dramatically.

  For a moment, all four of them simply stared at one another; then everyone burst into a torrent of questions and explanations. One word, however, jumped out of the babble.

  “Dead!” Oliver repeated, staring at Camellia, then swiveling to look at Gregory for confirmation. “Did you just say you found someone dead?”

  Vivian drew in her breath sharply.

  “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying!” Camellia exclaimed. “We found Cosmo, and he’s dead!” She half turned, gesturing behind her.

  “Your stepfather?” Oliver stared. “What happened? How—never mind. Just show me.”

  They started back the way Gregory and Camellia had come, pausing long enough for Oliver to grab a lantern from his coachman, still sitting placidly waiting for him. As they walked, the story of her evening came out in fits and starts from Camellia, her story added to now and then by Gregory. Oliver remained grimly silent.

  They reached the narrow, dilapidated building and started up the stairs. This time the lantern provided ample light to see their surroundings, but the view was not improved. And the stench was just as bad. Vivian placed her hand over her nose and mouth, breathing shallowly. When they reached the room, Gregory opened the door and stepped inside, followed by Oliver. Pirate jumped lightly down from Oliver’s arms and renewed his explorations.

  Vivian remained by the door with Camellia, but even at this distance, it was clear that the man on the floor had breathed his last. Vivian’s stomach roiled, and she turned away queasily.

  “The devil!” she heard Oliver say, and then her brother’s low voice as he pointed out the murder weapon.

  “I’ll inform my Runner,” Oliver said. “And return here with him. But first let’s get the ladies home.” He turned a hard look at Camellia. “Where you belong, I might add, Cousin.”

  “I had to come,” Camellia protested. “I had to do something. And look at Vivian. You brought her here, and she’s wearing boy’s clothes.” Her look at Vivian’s attire was envious.

  “I am not Lady Vivian’s guardian, thank heaven. And you are not getting out of this that easily, Camellia. You endangered your life by coming here alone.”

  “Gregory was with me.”

  “Only by accident, if I understand your story correctly.” Oliver turned toward the other man. “Thank you, Seyre, for looking out for her.”

  “Well, if that isn’t the most unfair thing I’ve ever heard!” Camellia gasped. “You ring a peal over me and you thank him!”

  “You are the one who came up with the scheme, and he came along only to keep you safe. That makes a great deal of difference.” Oliver turned back to the room and snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come, Pirate.”

  The dog obediently trotted to him. Oliver walked over to Vivian and, taking her arm, steered her toward the staircase. “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.

  Vivian nodded. “I’m sorry. I should be more stoic. It is just . . . I have never seen a dead body before. I mean, well, except in a casket. All that blood! Someone must have hated him very much.”

  “I suspect a number of people did. I had little liking for the man myself. However, I think that for some people it doesn’t take hatred or
much of any emotion at all to kill a man.”

  “That’s even worse.” Vivian shivered, and Oliver curled his arm around her.

  “There’s a traveling rug in the carriage. You’ll be warm soon.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But perhaps you’d better remove your arm; it might look a trifle odd.”

  Oliver started guiltily and dropped his arm. “Sorry.” He cast a glance back toward Gregory. “I’m not sure how to explain this to your brother.”

  “There’s no need to,” Vivian told him firmly. “I am not accountable to my brother, as Gregory himself would tell you. He’s most progressive in his thinking. Besides, he’s the most unflappable man alive.” She paused, then said, “Don’t be too hard on Camellia. I am sure she is just as shaken as I am.”

  “Perhaps. One hopes it will curb her tendency to jump into danger, at least somewhat.”

  “I imagine so. It will certainly have a restraining effect on me.”

  Oliver glanced at her. “Really? Are you saying you’re willing to leave this matter alone and let my Runner look into it?”

  “Of course.” Vivian nodded. “I’m quite capable of being reasonable, Oliver. It’s one thing to visit gambling dens and masquerade in taverns and speculate on who might be stealing things. That is all rather fun and exciting. But murder is an entirely different matter. Besides, as you said, a Runner is surely better equipped to handle this situation than we are.”

  Oliver relaxed. “I am greatly relieved.” He turned back to look at his cousin and Gregory, walking behind them. “What about you, Camellia? Will you promise to let the Runner take care of this and not go investigating on your own?”

  Camellia nodded. “I don’t know how I’d go about doing anything, anyway. I have no idea who Cosmo was afraid of—or if that was even who killed him.”

  “One thing I don’t understand,” Gregory said thoughtfully. “Why do you have a Runner, anyway?”

  “Yes.” Camellia perked up a little. “And why were the two of you here tonight? Dressed like that?”

  “We were investigating a series of jewel thefts.” Stewkesbury explained as briefly as possible the events leading up to their expedition this evening.

  “But jewels were what Cosmo was wanting from me.” Camellia’s voice rose in excitement. “He wanted to steal the Talbot jewels.”

  “That fact struck me when you said it.” Oliver nodded.

  They had reached the carriage, and the group fell silent for a moment while getting into the vehicle. But as soon as they were settled in their seats, Gregory started the conversation again.

  “Do you think the two incidents are related? This murder and the jewel thefts?”

  “It seems likely to me. Clearly, from what we have learned, there is a ring of professional thieves operating, and their prime target is jewelry. The only difference seems to be the method by which the jewels are taken—some by burglarizing a house, others by simply grabbing it from people on the street. Cosmo apparently had promised someone to get jewelry from Camellia’s relatives, which would lead one to believe that Cosmo was involved with these same thieves.”

  “Do you think it was the leader who murdered him?” Camellia asked. “I know that Cosmo was well able to anger a number of people, but he was clearly frightened of this man who wanted the jewels from him.”

  “I would say that he is the most obvious choice,” Gregory spoke up. “But from what you said, Stewkesbury, there seems to be a chain of command. There are the lowliest ones, who actually do the stealing, and they turn their ill-gotten gains over to someone higher, such as the man you questioned tonight.”

  “That’s true.” Vivian nodded. “This man Cosmo could have been frightened of the intermediary or the head of the ring, I suppose. Either could have killed him.”

  “Whichever it was, if the Runner can find him, they can break the ring. Get the names of the others out of him. He’ll turn over the rest of them if he thinks he can keep his life that way.”

  They continued to talk about the thefts until the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Carlyle Hall. Oliver and Camellia came inside with Gregory and Vivian so that Oliver could write a note to the Bow Street Runner asking him to meet Oliver at Stewkesbury House. After that, he planned to take Camellia home, pick up the Runner, and take him to Cosmo’s body. Gregory decided that he would accompany Oliver on the gruesome errand, and so Vivian turned to say good-night to the others.

  When she reached Camellia, Vivian paused, then said, “Cam, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell Stewkesbury what your stepfather was threatening? Why didn’t you tell me?” Vivian could not entirely conceal the note of hurt in her voice. “I would have helped you. Did you think I would not?”

  “Oh, no!” Camellia cried, distressed. “It wasn’t that. I knew you would help. You’ve been the best of friends. It was just . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was ashamed, I guess, that he was even my stepfather. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want you or Stewkesbury to have to be involved in anything concerning Cosmo. And I—” She cast a slightly wary glance at Oliver before she said reluctantly, “I was afraid you might believe him, Cousin Oliver. Or at least wonder if what he said might be true.”

  “Camellia!” Oliver looked shocked. “How can you think that? I thought I had made it quite clear that I accepted you and your sisters as my cousins.”

  “Yes, but . . . it would be so odd, you see, for a man to claim someone as his daughter if she wasn’t. People would be bound to wonder if it wasn’t true.”

  “I don’t listen to what people ‘wonder.’”

  “Yes, I know. But there were the other things—I could see that you might be suspicious. Others would be; there would be talk. I didn’t want to embroil you in a scandal.”

  “Any scandal would have died quickly,” Oliver assured her. “If I say you are my cousin, who would argue?”

  Camellia looked at him squarely. “But do you truly believe it? Despite my birth records and everything?”

  Oliver gazed back at her just as steadily. “Yes. I believe you. Records do burn. Not every Talbot has black hair. And if you had known my grandfather, I think there are aspects of your personality that you would have known were very like one Talbot, at least.”

  “I’m like your grandfather?” She stared.

  “In some ways. He was a very stubborn, self-sufficient man.” Oliver smiled slightly. “In any case, I know you. And I know your sisters. You all say you are their sister. I know that none of you would lie about that.”

  Tears welled in Camellia’s eyes. “Oh.” She blinked them away determinedly and gave him a small smile. “Well, that’s all right, then.”

  Vivian smiled as she looked from Camellia to Oliver. That, she thought, was what made Oliver the consummate gentleman that he was. It was not his old and prestigious title, nor that he could trace his ancestors back to 1066. It was not even his punctiliously correct manners or knowledge of society’s rules. No, what made him a gentleman, a nobleman in the truest sense of the word, was what she had just witnessed—Oliver’s inherent sense of right and wrong, his unerring ability to steer the best path through any situation. Most of all, it was his kindness, the openheartedness that had impelled him to take in four orphaned girls—not just to provide for them in the minimal way that his peers would expect of him as the Earl of Stewkesbury, but to see to their happiness as well as their welfare, to make them truly a welcome part of his family.

  Vivian could feel her own throat closing up a little with tears. Oliver was, truly, the best of men. And she knew suddenly, looking at him now, that this was not just a passing affair, a matter of passion. Oliver was everything she wanted in a man, and she was perilously close to falling in love with him. Indeed, she found she already had.

  Chapter 20

  Vivian kept a determinedly pleasant expression on her face as she listened to Lady Prym and wished for at least the tenth time that
they had not already made plans to go to the theater tonight. She had not slept well since the night they had discovered Cosmo Glass’s body. The first night she had been unable to go to sleep until she had heard Gregory return to the house. Last night, as she and Gregory had come home from a deadly dull musicale at Mrs. Cavanaugh’s, she had had the most peculiar feeling of being watched when she stepped out of her carriage. She had looked all around and seen no one, but the whole thing had given her the shivers, and she had slept poorly, waking to every sudden noise.

  She had considered quite seriously sending her regrets to Eve and staying home to go to bed early. It would have been the sensible thing to do. But she told herself that she could not let the earl think her nerves had been so adversely affected by the events the other night. She was made of sterner stuff. However, Vivian knew, deep down, that the real reason she’d decided to attend the theater with Eve and Fitz was that Oliver would be with them, and she wanted to see him.

  It was quite foolish, she told herself, that she apparently could not go two days without seeing the man. She had always been so independent, so heart-whole. Yet now here she was, missing Oliver whenever he was not around, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Yes, finding Cosmo’s body had been disturbing, but Vivian had also been quite certain that if only Oliver had been there, sleeping in her bed, she would have slept soundly.

  Tonight as soon as she saw him, her tiredness had vanished in an instant. Much as she enjoyed feeling that way, that her emotions were so tied to Oliver was rather frightening. Her happiness had never depended on any man before, and she could not help but wonder what would happen when Oliver was no longer with her.

  That day would come. Vivian had no illusions about that. She might be falling in love with the man—God forbid, perhaps she already was in love with him. But they had no chance of a future. Oliver most definitely did not feel the same way about her, and there was no chance of his asking her to marry him. Indeed, she would not marry him if she had the chance. However much her feelings might have become engaged, she was no fool. She was ill-suited for marriage. And she and Oliver were even more ill-suited for each other.