She closed her eyes for a moment, making him realize that his comment was not a compliment to her.
“I find your intelligence and knowledge to be a good thing, despite what your mother might think,” he added, hoping to clarify his words.
She met his gaze. “Thank you.”
“At any rate, I thought perhaps one of the bookstores you frequent might have information on such a book. I’m assuming it’s older, so maybe one of the shops that specialize in rare books?”
“I will make some inquiries.” She looked quite pleased to have a task.
“Do be careful.” He hoped to emphasize his point. “Caution is needed in this endeavor. We cannot underestimate the people involved or the lengths they’re willing to go to keep their operation thriving.”
“I understand completely. I shall begin tomorrow.”
“Excellent. I look forward to hearing what you find. If possible, I’ll attend the ball tomorrow evening so we can discuss it.”
The pleasure on her face was his reward. Though he did his best to tamp down his reaction, he couldn’t stop it. Nor did he know what to do about it.
~*~
The next morning, Nathaniel sat at his desk in the library, reading the newspaper, hoping new information might come to light.
“The Earl of Adair to see you, Captain,” a footman said at the door.
Nathaniel didn’t have a chance to rise before his brother entered the room, a book in his hand.
“Tristan,” Nathaniel greeted him, unable to hide his surprise. “What brings you here so early this morning?”
“I have several questions I feel compelled to ask.”
Nathaniel could only assume it had something to do with their mother. He hadn’t spoken with her since their last uncomfortable family meeting, but he couldn’t think of any other subject Tristan might want to discuss.
Tristan turned to make certain the footman had left before he approached the desk and took a seat. He studied Nathaniel closely.
“Do I have crumbs on my face?” Nathaniel asked, a brow arched at the seriousness of Tristan’s expression.
“Have you officially retired from the Navy?”
Nathaniel frowned, uncertain what was on his brother’s mind. “Yes. My injury prevented me from remaining in the service.”
“But you’re still involved.”
“Involved in what?”
“In the government.”
He could only stare at Tristan, confused by his comments. They couldn’t be called questions as he wasn’t wording them as such. When Tristan didn’t continue, Nathaniel said, “No, I am not involved in the government.”
Tristan scowled, looking doubtful at his response. “A secret government agency perhaps?”
“Tristan, what on earth are you about?”
“I know you’re involved in something.” He set the book he’d been holding on the desk.
A glance at it had Nathaniel staring at the familiar cover in surprise. The Seven Curses of London. “Doing some light reading, are you?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He’d already told his brother much of what he was doing. What more did he want?
“I think you do.” Tristan leaned forward. “You’ve gained a purposeful attitude that has only grown in the past few months.”
“And?” Even if he had, what difference did it make to Tristan?
“I want to know what you’re involved in.”
“Why?”
“I’m certain you’re putting your life in danger.”
Nathaniel scoffed. Though that was true, he wasn’t prepared to discuss it. He well knew he wasn’t only putting his own life in danger, but others as well. Yet he could think of no other way to stop these men than by taking the steps he had thus far. He feared it would grow worse before it became better.
“Who are you working for?” Before Nathaniel could respond, he continued, “You’re secretive. You’re taking late night walks in Whitechapel. What are you and Warenton up to?”
“Warenton is in Northumberland as his wife is expecting a child. I am not working for anyone.” He didn’t bother to respond to the other statements.
“Are you trying to tell me that you’re attempting to investigate the issues noted in this book out of the goodness of your heart?”
“It’s more about righting wrongs.”
“Damn, you really are a hero,” Tristan said as he sat back with a look of annoyed disbelief. While the words were nothing his father would’ve offered, the look reminded Nathaniel so much of him that he had to look away.
“What is it?”
Nathaniel hesitated before answering, “You remind me of Father at times.”
Now it was his brother’s turn to look away, which surprised Nathaniel. Had his words displeased Tristan? Nathaniel had always believed his brother took great pride in how much he looked and acted like their father.
Tristan turned back, holding Nathaniel’s gaze. “You truly are doing this on your own?”
“I’m not involved in the government in any way. There is no secret agency or such thing.”
“Based on what I read thus far in that book, there should be some formal organization combating all these problems.”
“You’d have my agreement on that. I’m merely doing what I can to improve the lives of some.” Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. “You know the conditions of the slums in this city are appalling.”
“I suppose that must be true.” The grudging tone in his voice grated on Nathaniel.
“But it doesn’t concern you.” Nathaniel knew that as a fact and stated it as such.
“I send money to several charitable organizations.”
Nathaniel wanted to shake his head in disappointment, but he resisted. That would’ve been too much like their father’s reaction. “Do you know where your donations are spent? Or how?”
“What difference does that make? Others oversee such details.”
Once again, Tristan’s attitude reminded him of their father, which he didn’t appreciate. Yet it didn’t seem worth arguing about. Tristan had been molded by their father to continue on as he had done.
Unwilling to waste time arguing, Nathaniel held his silence, waiting to see if Tristan had anything more to say. By the determined glint in his eye, Nathaniel assumed something else bothered him.
“Are you planning on proposing to Miss Fairchild?”
“Heavens, no.” The very idea made Nathaniel shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re the one who is supposed to marry. Not me.”
“Your behavior suggests otherwise.” At Nathaniel’s puzzled look, Tristan continued. “You’ve danced with her on at least two occasions, and to my knowledge, not with anyone else. At every event where both of you are in attendance, you speak with her. Someone even told me you spoke with her mother last night.”
Nathaniel nearly groaned. He should’ve realized what his actions might be suggesting. In all honesty, it hadn’t crossed his mind after being absent from society for some time. His attention had been on stopping the brothel operation, not on what the ton might be thinking.
“Her mother would be more pleased if I introduced her to you,” Nathaniel said. “As would our own mother.”
Tristan only shook his head. “I am in no hurry to marry, despite what Mother says. I have done my best to avoid women who might expect more than a dance from me.”
“I don’t believe Miss Fairchild expects anything out of me.” Nathaniel was quite certain of it.
“That no longer matters. Tongues are wagging over your conversations with her.”
“We’re merely acquaintances who share a mutual interest.”
“That’s more than most marriages are based on,” Tristan said with a smile. “Sounds like you’re well on your way to walking down the aisle.”
“Marriage is not in my future.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you began this association with Miss Fair
child. It may no longer be your choice.”
Nathaniel sat back in surprise. He had never intended to harm Letitia’s reputation. She was a lovely woman, inside and out and deserved to be happy. Yet imagining her with another man who might make her so made him scowl with displeasure.
Before they could discuss the matter further, Dibbles appeared in the doorway.
“My apologies, but the captain’s presence is required in the kitchen.”
Nathaniel stared at the odd expression on Dibbles’ face. He knew the man well enough to tell something was terribly wrong. As casually as possible, he stood, hoping his brother would take his leave. “I suppose I must see what’s wrong. If you’ll excuse me?”
His brother nodded and rose. “I must be going anyway. I do hope you’ll consider what I said.”
“Of course.” Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief as he followed his brother out the library door. He bid Tristan goodbye and followed Dibbles down to the kitchen. He couldn’t imagine what had the man so upset. Nothing ruffled him.
When Nathaniel entered the kitchen, two maids and a footman stood near the back door. At the look of shock on the footman’s face and the tears on the maids’, Nathaniel slowed his steps. The cook stood at the work table in the center of the kitchen, her hands idle, a rare occurrence.
“This way,” Dibbles directed him as he gestured toward the kitchen’s rear entrance.
All the servants drew back as Dibbles opened the door.
A man lay sprawled on the ground, his face pale, his eyes staring unseeingly at the sky.
Teddy. The man he’d spoken with the previous day who’d given him Smithby’s name as well as the title of the book. Remorse filled him. Obviously whoever had killed the poor man had discovered he’d spoken to Nathaniel. Teddy had been right to be afraid.
As many dead men as he’d seen over the years during his military career, he wasn’t completely shocked at the sight before him. But finding a body on his doorstep was a different matter entirely.
He drew nearer, noting the man’s jacket and shirt were covered in blood. The metallic scent of it hung in the air. He squatted down beside the body, noting a piece of paper sticking out of the man’s jacket pocket. With careful fingers, he withdrew the paper.
“What the hell?”
Nathaniel turned to see his brother standing behind him. “I thought you left.”
“I nearly did. But curiosity got the better of me.”
“I believe someone is sending me a message.” Nathaniel said the words more to himself than to Tristan.
“You know this man?” The incredulous note in Tristan’s voice did not go unnoticed.
“I met him yesterday.”
“Are you certain he’s dead?”
Nathaniel stared incredulously at his brother, only to realize he probably hadn’t seen a murdered man before. “Yes. He’s dead.”
“Should we send for the police?”
Nathaniel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “In time, but first I want to see what this message says.” He needed a moment to think, to decide who he was going to tell at the police department as he was convinced not all of them could be trusted.
With slow movements, he unfolded the paper, reluctant to read it. The handwriting was rough, the words written in pen.
Mind your own business.
Asking questions gets people killed.
No signature. No hint as to an identity.
Only a warning. But Nathaniel had to guess this was Jasper Smithby’s doing. By itself, the note would’ve meant little, but delivered with the body...
“What does that mean?” Tristan asked as he looked at the message over Nathaniel’s shoulder. He placed a hand to his nose as though the odor was getting the better of him.
“It means I’m moving in the right direction.”
“With what?”
His heart heavy, Nathaniel leaned over and closed the dead man’s eyes. Someone must’ve seen them speaking and reported it to Smithby. Or Rutter. Either man was no doubt capable of this. He refused to believe it had anything to do with the power Smithby supposedly had from The Book of Secrets as Teddy had seemed to believe.
~*~
Lettie entered one of the bookstores that she knew specialized in ancient texts. With luck, the proprietor could tell her about The Book of Secrets or, even better, find a secondary copy of it. There was a chance it was a single edition or only one copy remained as happened with some old books. She hoped that was not the case.
She didn’t care for this particular store—the place smelled dank and musty, no doubt a result of the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. While she had a deep affection for books, this shop was a challenge in which to browse.
Mr. Stapleton, the proprietor, wasn’t the friendliest person. He had narrow, thick spectacles that sat on the end of his hooked nose and peered down at her through them. His nasally voice was difficult to understand at times as he tended to draw out his ss’s.
“May I asssist you?” he asked as she and Cora entered.
She never understood how he knew customers had arrived without a bell to signal him, but without fail, he came from the back of the store when a customer arrived.
“I am in search of a book titled The Book of Secrets.”
“Who isss the author?”
“I don’t know.”
“To what isss the book pertaining?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know that either.” She was tempted to tell him it pertained to secrets, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her attempt at humor.
“I don’t know that I can aid you. I’m not familiar with sssuch a text.”
In some ways she was relieved. The less she had to deal with Mr. Stapleton, the better. Still, she hesitated. What if the book was tucked on the back of one of those shelves, and he’d simply forgotten about it? “Would you mind if I looked around?”
He paused as though he’d prefer she didn’t.
That was another reason the man annoyed her. At times, he seemed to forget he was in the business of selling books. She smiled politely, waiting. She hoped she was making it clear that she wasn’t leaving until he agreed.
“Certainly.” The word was friendly enough, but the tone was not.
“Why thank you,” she said and moved away before he changed his mind. She waved at Cora to remain near the door as she knew the maid didn’t care for books and would much rather watch the people passing by outside than peruse the shelves.
It would be impossible for Lettie to search the entire store. The only hope was if she came upon it by accident, but as she was already here, having a look was worth a try.
She started at a nearby shelf and worked her way toward the rear of the store. Many of the books didn’t have a title on their spine, making her search all the more difficult. She couldn’t possibly look through each of them. Plus Mr. Stapleton would not appreciate her touching his precious books. Already he watched her closely from the front counter.
With a sigh, she perused the next row, refraining from touching the books and instead, studied them, hoping inspiration would strike and she might be able to select one that would provide a clue.
She heard Mr. Stapleton greet another customer and realized the woman’s voice was quite familiar. With a smile, she returned to the front of the shop.
“Greetings, Julia,” she said as Mr. Stapleton withdrew to the back room to collect whatever Julia had requested.
“Lettie, how lovely to see you.” Julia reached out a gloved hand to grasp Lettie’s arm, her smile a bright light. “What brings you to Mr. Stapleton’s shop?”
“I was hoping to discover some information on a book, but it doesn’t seem as though he can assist me. What of you?”
“My father is a collector of old books. Mr. Stapleton was able to locate a rather rare one for him, so I’ve come to retrieve it.”
“I didn’t realize your father was interested in such things. Would it be possible for you to ask him a questi
on for me?”
“Why certainly. He’d be delighted to help if he could. He doesn’t venture out often anymore, so it’s lovely if he can still feel needed.”
Lettie hesitated, glancing toward the rear of the store. She didn’t want to share this information with the proprietor. “Perhaps we can discuss it outside when your business here is finished.”
After Julia agreed, Lettie returned to her browsing but to no avail. When Julia had completed her business, Lettie left as well with Cora trailing behind.
As Lettie gave Julia the information she was seeking, an odd feeling of being watched came over her. She turned to glance around but couldn’t see any cause for the uncomfortable feeling.
“What is it?” Julia asked.
Lettie shook her head. “It feels as though someone is watching us, though I can’t imagine why.” Yet as she continued to converse with Julia, the feeling persisted.
“I will ask Father upon my return home and notify you if he has anything helpful to share.”
They chatted a few more minutes before saying goodbye.
Lettie visited two more bookstores without any success. Disappointment filled her as obtaining news would’ve given her a reason to seek out Nathaniel. She knew she was becoming far too dependent on him. When all of this came to an end, and he was no longer in her life, it was going to hurt dreadfully.
And she knew it would end.
If only she could find a balance between enjoying each moment with Nathaniel to the fullest and keeping her defenses in place so that she didn’t completely lose her heart to him when it was over.
But that was beginning to feel impossible.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“When their “hands” cease to be children, these enterprising tradesmen no longer require their services, and they are discharged to make room for a new batch of small toilers, eager to engage themselves on terms that the others have learned to despise, while those last-mentioned unfortunates are cast adrift to win their bread—somehow.”
~ The Seven Curses of London
Lettie arrived at Nathaniel’s home that afternoon, torn between being pleased and worried that he’d sent a message asking her to come to him. Pleased he might need her in even the smallest way, and worried Alice had taken a turn for the worse.
Loving the Hawke (The Seven Curses of London Book 1) Page 18
