“It is somewhat difficult to avoid a feeling of exasperation when, as an honest man, and one who finds it at times a sore pinch to pay rates and taxes, one contemplates the ugly, hopeless picture.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver stared at the man lingering in the doorway of the warehouse across the street, certain Hawke was mistaken. “Unbelievable.”
Hawke turned to meet Oliver’s gaze, his frown far less worrisome than the shocked expression he’d worn moments ago. “Yet there he is. How?”
“Smithby must’ve discovered something in The Book of Secrets that shared a way to make Rutter appear dead.”
“Dead enough to fool a doctor?” Hawke asked, his tone full of disbelief.
“The book is said to offer unique properties of herbs and rocks. Perhaps it included a way to slow Rutter’s heartbeat.”
“No wonder rumors of Smithby and his abilities have spread.” Hawke turned away as though unable to bear watching Rutter. “Imagine what the papers might’ve reported if we hadn’t intervened. I’d hazard a guess Smithby would’ve found a way to leak that it was his dark power that killed Rutter.”
“Why not claim he managed to raise him from the dead?” Oliver wondered.
“The police would be searching high and low for Rutter, which wouldn’t be in Smithby’s best interest.”
“True enough.” Oliver didn’t bother to hide his frustration. “I need that book. It’s giving Smithby far too much power. While written in medieval times, it obviously contains some fascinating information.”
As they watched, the door opened wider and the back-from-the-dead Rutter followed the new arrival inside, both disappearing from sight.
Hawke shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve given Smithby enough credit. How could he know the correct dosage needed to make such a treatment work? He could’ve easily killed Rutter.”
“It must be noted in the book. Anticipating Smithby’s next move would be far easier if we knew what else the text contained.”
“But we’d still be guessing how Smithby intends to use such knowledge.” Hawke scowled. “I suppose the important point is that we know Rutter is alive, that he’s working with Smithby, and we now have the location of one of Smithby’s warehouses.”
“I want in there.” Oliver stared at the door, unable to put aside the notion that the book was only a few feet from his reach.
“That’s a terrible idea.” Hawke shook his head. “Who knows what we’d be walking into?”
“Do you have a better one?”
“There are only three of us.” He glanced to where Tubbs still stood. “We don’t know how many of Smithby’s men are in there. Or if Smithby is.”
“But the book might be.” Oliver could almost picture it sitting on a table in the warehouse. “I could go in first.”
“Are you crazed?” Hawke grabbed his arm as though fearing he’d attempt it this very moment.
“No. I don’t believe so,” he said reluctantly. Yet the temptation to unleash his anger filled him, to allow the dark rage to take over as it seemed to make him undefeatable.
He couldn’t decide if it was frustration or an instinct to proceed that gave him the urge. Until he knew for certain, he couldn’t risk it. He knew his friend well enough to know Hawke would follow him inside, as would Tubbs. And Oliver refused to do anything that might put either man in danger.
Suddenly an image of Julia came to mind, and the desire to take action faded. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “We should proceed logically,” he agreed. “We’ll watch for a while longer and see what occurs.”
Hawke studied him as though trying to understand what was going through his mind. Oliver couldn’t tell him as he wasn’t certain himself.
“I’ll advise Tubbs to follow anyone who leaves the warehouse and pay special attention if he sees Rutter leave. Hopefully he had a good look at him.”
“Excellent idea.”
Oliver walked toward Tubbs as though he had all the time in the world, not wanting to hurry as it might draw notice.
“For a moment I worried you were going in there,” Tubbs said before Oliver could say a word.
“I considered it,” Oliver admitted.
“Do you sense something?” Tubbs knew of Oliver’s instincts and trusted them.
“I don’t think so.”
“Lady Julia would not be pleased if she knew you considered such a risk.”
Oliver’s stomach twisted as he stared at him. Did Tubbs see how much she meant to him? Even more curious, did he think Oliver mattered to her?
Now was not the time to question any of that. His focus needed to remain on the situation, not his growing fascination with Julia. Even as something deep inside him shifted, he told himself that she would only distract him. Thoughts of her made it difficult to consider taking the same risks he’d taken during his days in the Navy.
Shaking his head, he updated Tubbs on the plan. Tubbs had gotten a good look at Rutter and promised to watch for him as well as any others who emerged. He’d follow anyone who left the building then report back to Oliver.
“Do not take any unnecessary risks,” Oliver ordered.
“Of course not, my lord.”
Oliver held the footman’s gaze, knowing he was lying. “I need you, Tubbs. Be safe.”
The large man offered a smile. “I’ll take extra care if you will.” He glanced over Oliver’s shoulder. “There goes someone now.” With a nod at Oliver, he was off.
Oliver was relieved it wasn’t Rutter who’d left, but some other man. Rutter seemed far too slippery to expect Tubbs to follow. The thief had slipped away from the police many times and knew more tricks than Tubbs did.
He returned to where Hawke waited. “What do you think is in the warehouse?”
“Probably more goods like the ones found in Porter’s shop,” Hawke surmised.
“But no young girls he hopes to sell to brothels?” The illegal goods were bad enough, but the idea of the girls being drugged then stuffed in a brothel for the rest of their lives was intolerable.
“We haven’t seen any evidence of girls being taken of late. Hopefully, we’ve put an end to Smithby’s part in that business.”
Oliver nodded, aware Hawke had been monitoring the workhouses for signs of missing girls. “Hopefully our effort to spread a word of warning among potential customers of the brothels specializing in virgins has curtailed those activities.”
“Malverson hasn’t made an appearance at the brothels of late, according to my source. Perhaps you frightened him off when you caught him in the garden with Lady Julia.”
“Don’t remind me.” Anger flooded Oliver at the mere mention of Malverson.
Hawke frowned. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him at any events since your altercation.”
“I’m certain he’ll crawl out of whatever hole he’s in soon enough. We won’t be rid of him so easily.” Oliver felt that down to his bones. “Ah. Another man is leaving the warehouse. Shall I follow him or would you prefer to?”
“I’ll remain here to see if Rutter or Smithby emerge. Let me know what you discover.”
“Of course.” Oliver allowed the man to gain a short lead before following, relieved they at least had one of Smithby’s locations now. Surely before long they’d be able to find Smithby and The Book of Secrets.
While Oliver dearly wanted the book, he was reluctant for his project with Julia’s father to finish. For the life of him, he didn’t know how to proceed with Julia when his need for the research ended. He didn’t care for the idea of not seeing her on a regular basis, but what other excuse was there for continuing to visit her?
The answer that came to mind had his steps faltering until he reminded himself of his purpose. He returned his focus to the man walking ahead of him.
Such questions—and possible answers—were best left for another day.
~*~
After sitting with her father for a time, Julia started down
the stairs in search of her aunt. She wanted to discuss whether she thought they should have the doctor pay another call. While her father had certainly improved, he wasn’t regaining his strength very quickly. Perhaps her expectations were unreasonable given his age.
A commotion in the foyer had her pausing on the step. Unless it was Oliver calling on them, she didn’t want to visit with anyone.
But the deep voice echoing from below had her gasping in surprise. She hurried the rest of the way down to see if her ears had deceived her.
“Jonathan?”
Her brother turned and gave her a grin. “Surprise.”
“We didn’t expect you for months yet,” she said as she gave him a hug. Part of her wished her younger brother hadn’t returned quite yet. Not until their father was better. The two of them had an uneasy relationship to begin with. She didn’t want Father upset, nor did she want her brother to see how fragile their father had become. That would only make Jonathan feel as though he should stay home, putting an end to his freedom and chaining him here, which would only make him resent Father more.
“We’ve enjoyed our travels but were ready to come home, at least for a time.” He drew back, his gaze studying her. “You look well. Tell me all your news.”
His golden brown eyes were so much like their mother’s. She couldn’t help but wonder if it hurt Father to look at him. But she worried it was more than that. Jonathan was tall and broad shouldered with dark brows framing his unique eyes. A narrow nose and full lips also had elements of their mother but none of his handsomeness reminded her of their father.
“First come into the drawing room and share your travels. Father and Aunt Matilda will be so pleased to see you.”
His smile stiffened, snuffing some of the light from his eyes. “And I them. Where is Father?”
Julia sighed. “I’m sorry to tell you that he’s been ill. He’s upstairs resting.”
“Is it serious?”
She hesitated, wondering how much she should say.
“Jonathan.” Aunt Matilda rushed into the room, arms open wide to hug him tight for a long moment before studying him more closely. “I thought I heard your voice. You look marvelous.”
“As do you, Aunt. How is it that you never look a day older than when I last saw you?”
She laughed at his blatant flattery. “You haven’t changed a bit, I’m pleased to see.” She glanced briefly at Julia before returning her focus to Jonathan, her expression sobering. “It’s unfortunate your father isn’t feeling well enough to greet you.”
When Jonathan’s gaze swung to hers, Julia searched for the right tone and words. “Father was quite ill, I’m afraid.”
“We worried we might be losing him not two days ago,” Aunt Matilda added.
“Why didn’t you send for me?” Jonathan asked. “You should’ve sent word.”
“It came on very suddenly,” Julia explained, deciding not to share how often he felt poorly. They’d be sending Jonathan messages almost monthly if they contacted him every time Father was ill. “He’s slowly recovering now, gaining strength each day.” At least she hoped so.
“What’s important is that you’re here now.” Aunt Matilda reached up to pat his cheek. “Such a handsome man you’ve become. Sit and tell us of your travels. Didn’t you last visit Greece?”
Aunt Matilda and Jonathan chatted for some time about the exciting places he’d seen, many of which her aunt had ventured to years ago. It was only Julia who had nothing to add to the conversation. She hadn’t gone beyond England’s borders. Her father didn’t care to travel abroad, and she hadn’t wanted to leave him for any length of time. She couldn’t squelch the feeling that she’d missed out on some amazing experiences.
As though suddenly realizing how quiet she was, Jonathan turned to her. “Tell me what’s been happening here. How is the Season? Anything of note that I need to know about?”
“Not especially,” she said. She couldn’t think of anything she’d done or seen that compared to his travels. Her lack of anything memorable to share left her feeling unsettled.
But she swallowed back the regret. After all, staying here had been her choice, and it had freed Jonathan, allowing him a chance for happiness. She wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Their childhood had not been especially joyous. Not with their parents’ tumultuous relationship. Once Jonathan had gone away to school, she’d realized it was his chance to escape the difficulties of their family. Their mother had been gone for several years, but that had not resolved the past or changed their father’s melancholy.
Jonathan’s gaze narrowed, clearly not pleased at the idea of her having nothing to share. It was an old argument—one she rarely won. He accused her of allowing her concern for Father to keep her from living. She defended herself as best she could, unable to tell him of the guilt that held her here or how she did it in part to free Jonathan to do as he wished.
Hoping to hold off the disagreement, she searched her mind for news of any sort. An image of Oliver immediately came to mind, heating her cheeks.
“Your father’s been working on a new project,” Aunt Matilda said. “Perhaps you could share that with your brother.”
Julia hesitated. Speaking of that meant mentioning Oliver. She would rather not, but her aunt had left her little choice. “Yes, he’s working with an expert in medieval texts, Viscount Frost, in an attempt to uncover clues from an old book. I’m certain he’d love to discuss it with you.”
Luckily, an appreciation for books was one thing her father and Jonathan had in common. In the past, it hadn’t been enough to bridge the gap between them, but she hoped her brother’s anger had eased during his time away. Jonathan had long since grown impatient with Father’s melancholy and pining for Mother. His impatience was nearly always expressed in anger.
“I don’t believe I know Frost.”
“He’s here quite often.” Aunt Matilda sent Julia a meaningful look. Julia chose to ignore it. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to meet him.”
Her brother glanced back and forth between her and their aunt as though sensing there was more to the story. Julia did her best to hide her embarrassment. Her relationship with Oliver—if there was one—was nothing she cared to discuss. Not when it was so new and...uncertain.
“I’m going to let Alfred know you’re here, Jonathan,” Aunt Matilda said as she rose from her chair. “He’ll be thrilled. Then perhaps you can speak with him for a short while. He still tires quickly, but he’ll be so pleased to see you.”
She gave him one last smile and left the room.
“She’s acting rather oddly,” Jonathan said as he watched Aunt Matilda leave.
“I think she’s worried about Father,” Julia said. “We both have been. Are you staying long or do you plan to venture abroad again?”
“I think I’ll enjoy some of the Season before leaving again. Several friends are planning an extended trip to Italy.”
“Italy?” Why did that make her heart hurt a bit? She wanted him to go and enjoy himself. And she refused to be envious of her own brother. How ridiculous was that? “That certainly sounds like an adventure.”
Jonathan continued talking, this time about his friends, some of whom she knew.
She couldn’t help but reach out and squeeze his hand. “It truly is so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”
He took her hand in his, his expression growing serious. “Julia, I worry over you.”
“Why?” she asked reluctantly, not wanting his pity.
“Caring for Father seems to be taking all your time these days. Don’t you want more?”
The lurch of her heart at his words surprised her. The blasted thing seemed to have a mind of its own of late. It took all of her will to settle it back down again, to keep from blurting out things that would gain her nothing, to keep her true emotions from showing. She’d chosen this life. She would sacrifice everything in order to help her father and brother be happy.
If only she
could quiet the voice of doubt that had recently sprung forth. She was certain she had Oliver to blame for it.
“I’m quite content.” Yet the words rang hollow to her ears. She hoped her brother was too distracted to note the off-key ring. “Father deserves happiness as well.”
Jonathan leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face, so much like her mother’s that it was as if she were talking to her. “You can’t give him that. No one can.”
She opened her mouth to argue as her aunt returned.
“He is sleeping,” Aunt Matilda announced. Then as though she felt the tension in the room, she paused, glancing back and forth between them. “Is something amiss?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been addressed previously.” Her brother rose, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Saint Julia, the martyr, can share with you what she chooses. You both should know that I’ll only be staying a few days. After that, I’m moving into a place of my own.”
Julia rose, hands clenched. “I hardly think caring for Father makes me a martyr.”
“It does when you use it as an excuse to keep from living. But we’ve had that conversation before.” He gave a quick nod. “I’m going to get settled while Father’s sleeping.”
“What was that all about?” Aunt Matilda asked after Jonathan had shut the door behind him.
“He doesn’t understand why I choose to stay with Father.”
Her aunt’s continued regard had Julia lifting her chin. Surely her aunt wasn’t going to find fault with her as well.
“Sometimes I have to wonder if you understand it, Julia. Do you?”
Julia closed her eyes. “I thought I did. But of late, I must confess I’m not as sure.” She nearly cursed herself for allowing the truth to escape.
Her aunt was standing directly before her when Julia opened her eyes. “A good man makes a woman question everything.”
Even as Julia opened her mouth to protest, her aunt wagged her finger back and forth. “No. Do not say one word. We will leave this conversation to be continued another day.”
Julia sat back in her chair, wishing for a few minutes of peace. But with everyone’s words circling in her head, not to mention her roiling emotions, she didn’t know if that was possible any longer.
Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2) Page 19
