“Julia,” he muttered, unable to stop himself. He hoped she understood this interlude was up to her. One word and he’d release her, but he only heard her quickening breath.
He freed her breast from its confines, his eyes greedy to see her bared before him. The rosy peak beckoned, and he bent to lick it. Once. Twice. Then suckled her fully.
Her gasp was his reward. She was so responsive that he wanted to give her more, to take more.
“Oh, my,” she whispered breathlessly. “That— That is amazing.”
“Yes.” He agreed with her. She was amazing, not just her creamy white breast. He took her mouth again, welcoming the passion that filled him. Using his knee, he nudged apart her legs to stand between them, loving the feel of her against him.
She lifted onto her toes and returned his kiss passionately, fueling his desire. In another moment, he wouldn’t be thinking at all. That held far too much risk.
He eased back, breathless, but the sight of her pink-tipped breast teased him. With a groan, he kissed it once more then tucked it back into place, hidden from view.
“This is not wise,” he managed, despite the passion fogging his brain.
“What’s not wise?” she asked as she leaned forward to press kisses along his jaw then in the sensitive area beneath his ear.
Shivers chased down his spine and the fog deepened. He frowned, aware he was losing control. Yet when she continued to trail her lips along his neck, he couldn’t resist. He placed his hands along her face and kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers, mimicking what he truly wanted to do. What was it about this woman that made him desire her so?
When he drew back to look at her, her eyes fluttered closed. Her long lashes shielded her eyes from view until at last she looked up at him. The passion simmering in their depths made him clench his jaw. She was so responsive yet so innocent. Of that he had no doubt.
The thought was like a splash of cold water over him, bringing him to his senses. Or nearly so.
“Julia, we must stop.” He kissed those rosy lips once more, telling himself that was the last one.
“Yes, we certainly should,” she agreed then kissed him again, holding him tight.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“No,” she murmured. “A young lady visiting a man alone is not to be done.”
“Especially when that man desires her.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You do?”
“So very much.”
“Oh.” She blinked up at him. “I confess I feel the same.”
Her honesty shot through him, only increasing his passion for her. But she deserved more than he could offer. Though speaking with Hawke that morning had helped, he had much to work through before he considered allowing Julia into his world. “You should go.”
“Yes, I suppose I should. But I wish you’d tell me how I can help you.”
“You already have.” He could offer her that much. Her presence in his life was partly what had prompted him to reach out to Hawke. Spending time with her eased the unrest deep inside him. He didn’t understand it, nor did he deserve it. Not when that feeling of peace came with so many complications.
But he couldn’t forget that she was a young lady who expected to marry. That was out of the question, of that he had no doubt.
“Please. Go.” He gathered his resolve and took a deliberate step away from her.
Before I lose what little will I have to send you away.
Chapter Eleven
“There are many who, looking down on the ‘cad’ from their pinnacle of high respectability, are ten times worse than he is. Take the shopkeeper thief for instance. He is by far a greater villain than the half-starved wretch who snatches a leg of mutton from a butcher’s hook...”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver cursed under his breath as he perused the bustling street near Mr. Porter’s Import-Export Shop the next day. The lad he’d hired had yet to provide a report and the deadline of three days had passed. Though tempted to let it go, he’d decided against doing so. The boy had accepted a position and therefore needed to keep his word. Oliver assumed Victor had no father, so Oliver would take it upon himself to reinforce the lesson that a man was only as good as his word. Something told him that Victor was redeemable.
With a sigh, Oliver admitted he’d also chosen to venture here today because he’d grown weary of wondering what to do about Julia. Surely thinking of something else for a time would bring forth a solution to that particular quandary.
But Oliver still didn’t appreciate having to come to this part of the city to find Victor. The day was humid, the odor atrocious, and the congestion of people, carriages, and carts as disconcerting as it had been on his previous visit. While the mud had dried up considerably compared to last time, the filth remained. It just didn’t stick quite as badly to his boots.
He doubted he’d be able to locate the lad but had to try. Chances were Victor would remain in this general area, at least within a street or two. And it seemed likely he’d be out and about when it was crowded—more opportunities, assuming he continued in his occupation as a thief. Oliver didn’t fault him for that as he probably worked for someone else who wouldn’t take kindly to Victor quitting.
Oliver walked up the street for a short distance but didn’t spot him. Then again, many of the young boys looked alike in their dirty, brown attire. With soft caps pulled low, it was difficult to see their faces unless they looked up.
Releasing a sigh of reluctance, Oliver tuned into his instincts, the inner voice that had guided him so well through his years in the Navy. He hesitated doing so as, in his mind, it was connected to the rage he was trying so hard to control. Yet he refused to waste an entire day looking for the lad.
Victor would know the streets of his neighborhood well along with those who roamed it. Rather than searching for him, a better strategy might be to wait for him to find Oliver.
He decided on a spot not far from Mr. Porter’s shop that provided a good view of the people walking past. It was amazing how the children blended in, as though used to being invisible.
As time passed, he studied the boys striding by, wondering if he’d recognize the lad. Then he saw a boy with a bit of a swagger walking toward him. Though he had his head down and an over-sized cap low over his brow, Oliver was nearly certain that it was Victor. He hesitated only a moment before reaching out to grab the back of the boy’s jacket.
“Leave off,” the boy demanded as he struggled.
“Victor.”
The squirming lad froze and looked up, a mix of fear and anger on his face. Relief spread over his expression as he recognized Oliver.
Assuming he wouldn’t run, Oliver released him.
“Didn’t realize it was ye at first,” Victor said as he straightened his tattered jacket as though he’d had it made on Bond Street. “What brings ye here?”
“I have yet to receive a report from you.” Oliver studied the lad, noting fear remained in the back of his eyes. “One for which I already paid.”
“Ah, well, I haven’t seen anything worth reportin’ yet.” Victor’s gaze searched up and down the street warily before resting on Mr. Porter’s shop. “Perhaps we should speak elsewhere.”
“Lead the way.”
The boy’s brows shot up, barely visible beneath the brim of his cap as though surprised at being put in charge. Then he gave a nod. “This way.”
He strode through the crooked streets, and Oliver followed but found it difficult to keep up. The boy was quick and wove through the passersby with experienced ease. Oliver’s anxiousness increased as they went, people seeming to press in on him. Maybe it was the humid air or the crowd, but he found himself taking slow breaths to calm himself. Just as he was about to insist Victor stop, the lad ducked into an alleyway.
“Welcome to me office,” the boy declared as he halted and swept his hand forward, as though ushering in Oliver. “Are ye all right, guv? Ye’re lookin�
� a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” Oliver replied, annoyed the boy had noticed. He scowled when Victor continued to stare at him as though concerned.
“If ye say so.”
“I do.” Oliver did his best to hide his disgust at the stench of the alley, not to mention the piles of refuse and waste, and instead focused on the boy. “Does this mean you have something to tell me?”
“Not exactly.” Victor shuffled his feet, his gaze darting away.
“A yes or no answer will suffice.”
“’Tis not so easy, this task ye gave me.” Victor shook his head as he met Oliver’s gaze.
“How so?” Obviously something had occurred to worry the boy. The question was, would he share it?
“I was doin’ as ye asked, watchin’ Porter’s shop. I spent time near the back of it as well as near the front, doin’ me best to stay out of sight.”
Oliver nodded, holding onto his patience as the boy spoke.
Victor glanced about the alley as though fearing someone watched them from the shadows. “There’s a bloke who visits the shop nearly every day, but he never takes anything in or out. Didn’t make any sense to me. So I followed him yesterday when he left.”
“And?” Oliver prompted when the boy paused.
“He headed toward the docks but I lost him there. I waited to see if I could find him again. Sure enough he walked past me and I followed. He went back to Mr. Porter’s. But when he left the shop again, he spotted me. He grabbed me before I knew what was what and told me if he caught me lingerin’ near Porter’s or him again, he’d dump me in the Thames.”
Oliver pondered Victor’s story. Obviously the man was up to something with Porter, but none of this tied him to Smithby. A link was what Oliver needed. However, the man’s reaction to Victor’s presence seemed out of proportion to the boy’s actions. That spoke of guilt. “Did you learn anything more? Maybe you heard them speaking?”
“They were speakin’ all right. The man mentioned Smithby, which I remembered ye asked me about. The bloke threatened Porter with him. Said how if Porter didn’t move more goods, Smithby would pay a visit and Porter wouldn’t like it.”
Oliver could hardly believe it. This was exactly what they needed—details on Smithby and how he was moving the stolen goods. Oliver wasn’t certain how they’d be able to use it, but it would provide a lead, which was in short supply of late. But as uncomfortable as Victor was, Oliver had to assume he was frightened. “Excellent work. Information is a far more valuable commodity than goods.”
“I asked around after that. A few blokes I know said to stay clear of Smithby. They warned me that nothin’ good would come from followin’ him. That I’d more than likely end up dead.”
“I agree. Do not seek out Smithby in any way. The man is capable of vile deeds, of that I have no doubt.” Though he’d like nothing more than to catch Smithby, it wasn’t worth putting Victor in danger or anyone else for that matter.
“I don’t think the man knew for certain whether I heard anything, otherwise he wouldn’t have let me go.”
“Well done, Victor.” Oliver paid him the additional money promised. Something made Oliver study the lad closer. “Did you happen to hear the man’s name?”
Victor stilled, a calculating gleam in his eye. “What would it be worth to ye?”
Oliver held up two more shillings.
“Thomas Crawford. I heard Porter say it.”
Oliver tossed him the coins and the boy caught them deftly, tucking them out of sight. “You’ve been excellent help, Victor. You’re sure you don’t have the location of where Thomas went when he left Porter’s?”
“Nay. But I can keep watchin’. See if I have a chance to follow him again.”
Debating his options, Oliver shook his head. “The situation is growing too dangerous. You had better keep your distance.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “What if I were to hear something. Should I send word?”
For a moment, Oliver considered saying no. He worried that Victor would do all he could to earn more money, which would put him in danger. If he had already come to Crawford’s notice, the boy would be in even more danger. “I’d like to make it clear you are not to intentionally listen. You must stay out of sight. If Crawford catches you, there won’t be much I can do to save you.”
“I understand.”
Oliver placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Please take care. While I would pay well for more information, the promise of money will do you no good if you’re caught. No information is worth risking harm to you.”
The boy’s brown eyes held Oliver’s, his expression registering surprise. “I’ll take care.”
Oliver nodded. That was the best he could do. He only hoped it was enough. “You leave first. The less we’re seen together the better.”
Victor departed before Oliver had to tell him twice. Oliver waited a few moments before exiting the alley. Luckily, he was able to find his way back through the crooked, narrow streets that all looked alike.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he climbed into his carriage once Tubbs found him. The energy of the dirty streets with their crowds of desperate people were far worse than any ballroom. But that only made him more determined to halt Smithby. He was ruining far too many lives.
~*~
Jasper Smithby’s footsteps echoed in the corridor as he was escorted to the visitor’s gate of Newgate Prison. He’d chosen to walk with a cane and favored his right leg, making his limp noticeable as part of his disguise. The fake mutton chops and moustache he’d glued to his face helped hide his identity.
“Who are you here to see?” the uniformed guard at the desk asked.
“Culbert Rutter,” Jasper said, keeping his voice a low grumble.
“Your name?”
“Albert Rutter, his brother.” Jasper handed over the forged permit that gave him permission to visit.
“I don’t remember him mentioning a brother,” the guard said as he studied the permit then Jasper.
“Not surprising. We’re not that close.” Jasper resisted the urge to check to make sure his facial hair remained in place. Being inside the prison set his nerves twitching, let alone being scrutinized by the guard. “I’m his only family. Came from Norfolk. Difficult to travel this far. No doubt he’ll be surprised by my arrival.”
The guard nodded, his brief interest gone. He tucked the permit into a drawer. “Follow the other guard. He’ll take you to see him.”
Jasper nodded and limped after the guard. As they walked down a long corridor, Jasper’s unease grew. It was wrong for a professional criminal like himself to be in a prison of his own free will. He’d be pleased when this was completed. With a sigh of relief, he watched the guard retrieve a key from his belt and unlocked the thick door.
“Second cell to the left.”
The small area contained two cells on each side. Jasper glanced about, pleased to see the other cells stood empty.
“I wonder if you might give us a few minutes,” he asked the guard with an easy smile. “It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” Jasper slipped him some coins with his request.
“I suppose so. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Jasper waited to approach Rutter’s cell until the guard stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open.
“How are you faring, Culbert?” Jasper asked, noting the other man’s pallor through the bars of the cell. He appeared to have lost weight, based on the way his shirt hung on him. Relief and fear warred in his eyes.
“Making do,” Rutter said, his gaze darting about nervously. “I’m hopin’ this visit means I’ll soon be out of here.”
“Yes, you will.” He didn’t feel any guilt for not telling his former right-hand man the whole truth. It would be best if he didn’t know everything. No one would be given that power.
Rutter blew out a breath though the fear didn’t leave his eyes. “’Tis relieved I am to hear that. I can’t say as I like this place.”
Jasper studied the narrow cell with its tiny mattress and dark, bare walls. “I don’t blame you. I have to say I was disappointed to hear rumors about how much you’ve been talking.”
Rutter’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. Who told ye that?”
“Are you saying the tales aren’t true?” At Rutter’s nod, Jasper had to wonder who was telling the truth—Crawford or Rutter. “I’m pleased to still have your loyalty.”
“Of course.” Rutter grasped the bars before him, his knuckles white. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to draw on the dark powers for your release.” Jasper did his best to keep a straight face as an expression of dismay came over Rutter.
It never ceased to amaze him how gullible people were, especially the men in his employ. The Book of Secrets had been a boon that paid off time and again. Though the information it contained made little sense, his men didn’t know that. Jasper took pride in adding his own spin onto its ‘Secrets’. He employed a combination of tricks and acting along with the Latin phrases he knew to convince his men he had special abilities.
But this time, he’d actually found something helpful in the book’s pages. At least it seemed as though it might work. He’d know soon enough.
His methods of using the book had insured loyalty over the past two years as he built his small empire. But a grand gesture was needed to reinforce his men’s fear of him. Since the damned trouble with the brothels, thanks to Captain Hawke, he needed to do something to fortify his hold over them. This problem with Rutter was actually an opportunity.
With luck, word of his power would spread to his enemies as well, especially McCarthy, and make them more reluctant to cross him.
“I’ll need your help, Culbert,” Jasper told him.
“Of course. Anything ye ask.” The desperation in his voice pleased Jasper, reminding him why he liked the man.
Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2) Page 12
