Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2)

by Williams, Lana

  “No, but he was there yesterday. I’ve seen him off and on. I think he’s the same boy I caught outside of Porter’s shop. I would’ve sworn he was tryin’ to listen to our conversation that day.”

  “If either of ye see him again, catch him,” Jasper ordered. “We don’t need anybody snooping about when we have so many goods coming in and out of here every day.”

  “Maybe McCarthy sent him to see what he could find out,” Rutter suggested.

  “Then we’d best be asking the lad some questions,” Jasper said, the mention of his competitor setting his teeth on edge. “I doubt he’s hanging about of his own accord. I want to know what he’s up to.”

  “We’ll take a look for him now.” Rutter gestured for Crawford to follow him and the two men left.

  Jasper considered who the boy might be working for. No matter who it was, it couldn’t be good. He intended to put an end to his nosing around.

  ~*~

  Julia turned the last page on the little book she’d come across at the bookshop the previous day, disturbed by the story. Dick Turpin was a publication that romanticized thievery. A highway man who stole and murdered was the hero of the story and his victims were portrayed as villains. To think of children with little to no hope of a future living in the East End surrounded by poverty reading such a book was terrible. Stories like this one had been mentioned in The Seven Curses of London, and when she’d spotted it at the bookshop, she’d impulsively purchased it.

  An overwhelming urge to discuss it with Oliver came to mind. But she couldn’t. Or rather, wouldn’t. The more time she spent with him, the more confused she was about what she wanted both now and in the future. Yet she was so outraged by the contents she was beside herself. The story clearly promoted the exploits of thieves. An impressionable boy reading this would be excited at the idea of mimicking that life. It even sounded exciting to her.

  How terrible to think of young children being encouraged to choose such a life. Something should be done to stop such publications from being distributed. She shouldn’t have given into her curiosity and purchased it, as that only gave more money to those publishing such trash.

  The thought of Oliver had her sighing. She was so grateful for his rescue the previous day. A shudder passed through her at the close call she’d had with Lord Malverson. Somehow she had to find a way to avoid the lord in the future. She couldn’t help but wonder what Malverson had meant about Oliver’s activities in Ethiopia. But she also knew beyond a doubt that nothing would change her opinion of Oliver. He was an amazing man she was honored to know.

  With a shake of her head, she admitted the truth—a man she was honored to love. The surge of emotion the admission brought forth filled her eyes with tears.

  “My lady?” A footman stood at the door of the drawing room. Julia blinked rapidly to clear the moisture as he said, “His lordship requests your presence in the library.”

  “Of course.” With the book in hand, she rose and hurried to the library. This was the first day her father had made it down to his desk. She hadn’t wanted to hover but dearly wanted to know how he was doing.

  “How is the project progressing, Father?” she asked as she neared his desk. Though a trifle pale and overly thin, he appeared better than he had since falling ill. An air of vitality surrounded him today, much to her relief.

  “I’ve found something quite interesting,” he said, never taking his gaze from his notes.

  “What is it?”

  “There is a discussion on folk remedies to eliminate household pests that is fascinating.” He looked up at last, the intensity of his gaze at odds with the subject matter.

  “Oh?” She didn’t see how that would assist Oliver in any way.

  “The author mentions a particular herb that causes an unusual reaction if used in the correct dosage.”

  “What sort of reaction?”

  “It can slow the heartbeat.”

  “Truly?” She moved around the side of his desk to read his notes over his shoulder.

  “Apparently it was used to rid homes of rats, but the pests reanimated.”

  An image of a pile of dead rats suddenly starting to move filled her mind and she shuddered. “That’s terrible.”

  “Yes, but what if it were used on a human?” Her father’s blue eyes, so like her own, were lit with excitement.

  “So someone would be thought dead only to rise later?”

  “Exactly. Frost needs to be told this as quickly as possible. I’m certain it will be of great interest to him.”

  “Are you going to send him a note?”

  “It would be too difficult to explain all this in a message. I’d like you to deliver the information to him.”

  “Surely a message would suffice.” Her stomach fluttered at the idea of seeing Oliver again. Especially at his home. Alone. She wasn’t strong enough to resist what might occur if she were to venture there again. The danger to her heart was far too great.

  “I can’t possibly explain everything in a note. I’ll write down the name of the herb and the specific references from the book, but I’d like you to take him my message and explain.” At her hesitation, he frowned up at her. “It’s terribly important. I’m certain of it.”

  “Yes, of course.” She could do this.

  Her focus would remain on the information and not on her feelings. How hard could that be? Yet the niggle of doubt continued, refusing to let go.

  Her father explained further, reading the passage to her as though worried he might not have translated everything properly.

  She was of no assistance as she knew little Latin but reassured him before his agitation returned him to his bed. Resigned to delivering the message, she went up to change while he wrote down some of the details. The pale lavender gown she donned was one of her favorites. She hadn’t picked it to please Oliver, but rather to bolster her confidence. Or so she kept telling herself.

  By the time she was ready, her father had his message written. He went through the information one more time, making her repeat the details to be sure she remembered them. Then she was off, her stomach dancing with nerves.

  ~*~

  Oliver stared out the windows of the library, surprised at the urge to step outside. He was restless today despite his and Tubbs lengthy sparring match earlier that morning, unsettled in a way that made him wonder if the weather was going to change or if something else more alarming was coming. The sense of knowing that hovered over him suggested danger was imminent.

  Unfortunately, this feeling didn’t provide specific details but only a sense of foreboding. What he was to do with it was another matter. He couldn’t take action based on a feeling. The best he could do was remain alert, but waiting set his nerves on edge.

  He’d briefly wondered if he was being followed when he’d paid a visit to Malverson’s home early this morning. When he hadn’t seen anyone, he continued with his plan and demanded that the injured man leave the country for a time.

  Malverson had sputtered reasons he couldn’t possibly do so, but there was a sliver of fear in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Oliver could only surmise Malverson realized he’d had a close call. That along with the fact that Oliver had threatened to reveal his preference for young girls to his family and friends as well as placing a notice in the newspaper were enough to convince the man to leave.

  At any rate, the lord should be departing England tomorrow. Julia wouldn’t have to worry about encountering him again for a long time.

  When voices sounded in the foyer, Oliver wasn’t surprised—only curious to see who’d arrived. The feminine pitch echoing in the hall had his alertness shifting to anticipation. He’d done his best to put aside the feelings that had threatened when he’d last seen her. As though ignoring them would make them go away. In truth he had no idea what to do with them. Nor had Julia seemed to welcome a discussion on the topic. That worried him more than anything.

  He rose as she entered the library. Ignoring his growing
affection for her was simple enough when he wasn’t with her but a far more difficult task when he was. One glance told him she had something on her mind. Somehow he didn’t think it was him.

  “Good day.” Her expression was friendly enough, but her normally charming smile was all business.

  He scowled, realizing he didn’t care for it.

  “I do hope I’m not interrupting.” She held out a piece of paper as though it excused her presence like a boy with a hall pass at boarding school. “Father asked me to deliver some information to you. He felt it too important to delay until your next visit.”

  “Oh?” He watched her, attempting to read between her words.

  That damned polite smile firmly in place, she handed him the message. “I have additional details to share after you’ve read it.”

  Oliver opened the paper, skimming the words, only to slow and read them more carefully. His sense of knowing surged. “What more can you tell me?”

  He listened closely as Julia told of the reanimation of the rats, his mind spinning as he realized her father may have stumbled upon how Smithby faked Rutter’s death. He turned over the information in his mind, wondering how he might use it.

  “Is this helpful?” she asked.

  “It is incredibly helpful. Your father was right.”

  Those blue eyes blinked up at him, threatening to distract him.

  “I told your father that Smithby managed to murder one of his thieves while the man was still in his cell.” Her gaze narrowed as he debated how much more to tell her. “He did it in a way that was certain to rouse the superstitions of the other prisoners and even the guards. Then Hawke and I saw the murdered man, alive, a few days later at one of Smithby’s warehouses.”

  Her eyes widened with shock. “Oh heavens. That’s terrible. Do you think he used that herb to accomplish such a feat?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know enough of herbs to say but how many can there be that have such an effect?”

  Julia drew nearer to study her father’s message, which Oliver still held. “I’ve never heard of it either. Mr. Skyrme, the apothecary, might be of assistance.”

  “Excellent idea. I will send a message to Hawke before we make any inquiries.” He moved to his desk and quickly penned a missive requesting Hawke to call on him when possible.

  “Terribly sorry, my lord,” Tubbs said from the door.

  Aware it would take a serious issue to cause Tubbs to interrupt, Oliver asked, “What is it?”

  “A young lad is at the backdoor requesting to speak with you.”

  “Victor?” Oliver set down his pen, the pit of his stomach clenching.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, he appears to be injured,” Tubbs added.

  Oliver glanced at Julia. “Will you wait for my return?”

  “I’ll come with you. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  Oliver nodded, pleased she wasn’t leaving. He handed the message to Tubbs. “Please see that’s delivered as soon as possible. Did Victor say what happened?”

  “He insists on speaking with you,” Tubbs advised as he moved toward the rear of the house and down the stairs.

  Oliver strode into the kitchen, noting several servants gathered at the back door. Victor stood near the door with the cook at his side who was attempting to convince him to release whatever he held in his arms. The servants stepped back as he neared.

  “Victor?”

  The lad looked up, eyes wide, his pale, dirty face marked by streaks of tears. “My lord.”

  “What happened?”

  “I—I stole the book.” He offered Oliver the cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms.

  “What book?” Oliver took the package, his sense of foreboding stronger than ever.

  “The one Smithby claims gives him power. The secret one.”

  Oliver stilled as he stared at Victor, unable to believe what the lad had done. Oliver hadn’t even told him about The Book of Secrets yet Victor had stolen it. As he took it out of the boy’s trembling hands, he could hardly believe he held the very book he’d spent weeks searching for. Yet the pleasure he’d anticipated was absent. How could he be pleased when Victor had risked so much to gain it?

  The lad stumbled only to be caught by Tubbs.

  “The book doesn’t seem as important now, does it?” Julia murmured. “Victor?” She moved forward and with a gentle hand removed his cap and brushed the hair from his forehead. “Where are you hurt?”

  Victor looked down and touched the front of his filthy jacket. “Ah, one of the men had a knife, but I think he only nicked me.”

  “Come and sit at the table. Cook surely has a biscuit for you.” Her gentle words had everyone moving to do her bidding. As Victor sat in a chair, she continued, “Why don’t we remove this and have a look.”

  Julia unbuttoned the jacket but her hands suddenly stilled. Oliver realized her fingers were holding several cuts in the fabric. She glanced back at him as though to make certain he saw as well.

  His stomach tightened, and he gave a brief nod. Dark anger loomed at the edges of his mind but he pressed it back. There was no one here to unleash the anger on. The time would come soon enough to release his rage on the people who truly deserved it. Instead, he focused on Victor.

  Julia eased off the jacket with Tubbs’ assistance, revealing dark red stains on the front of Victor’s shirt. Oliver had to clench his jaw to keep his emotions in check.

  “The man—he nearly caught me,” Victor said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know he...” The boy blinked as he stared down at the large red mark.

  Oliver reached out to place a hand on Victor’s shoulder. Victor’s face turned even paler as his eyes rolled back.

  “Let’s lay him down.” Oliver handed the still-wrapped bundle to a maid so he could assist. He and Tubbs laid the boy on the floor and opened the boy’s shirt.

  Julia’s quiet gasp filled the silence of the room.

  Three deep stab wounds marked the boy’s white stomach. It was difficult to tell how severe they were due to the blood. Oliver caught Tubbs’ gaze, seeing the same worry he felt reflected in his footman’s gaze. “We’ll need a doctor.”

  Tubbs nodded and gestured for one of the footmen to go.

  Victor moaned. His stomach quivered as he lifted his head to look at his injuries. “Oh, no.”

  “Lay back, Victor.” Julia knelt beside him and ran her fingers along his forehead. The boy did as she asked and returned his head back on the floor. “Viscount Frost will aid you. Did you know he was in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

  Victor glanced at him. “Is that true?”

  Oliver nodded as a maid stepped forward with a damp cloth and a pan of water to clean the wounds. Aware Julia was attempting to distract the boy from his injuries, he added, “Tending the injured is part of serving.” He continued speaking, doing his best to keep the boy’s attention. Having Julia there to help was a blessing beyond what he could’ve hoped for. He hadn’t realized how much it would mean to have her support in a situation such as this.

  But the frowns and moans coming from Victor despite the maid’s careful touch attested to his pain. At Oliver’s direction, she bound his stomach.

  “Take him to a room upstairs. The doctor should be here soon,” Oliver ordered.

  Tubbs carried the protesting lad away, reassuring him that all would be well.

  “He’s lucky it’s not worse, I suppose.” Oliver ran his hand through his hair. He turned to stare at the wrapped bundle on the table. “I can’t believe he managed to steal that.”

  “He put himself in terrible danger,” Julia said as they made their way back to the library with Oliver carrying the book.

  “I told him to keep his distance. He was nearly caught last time.” Oliver set the book on his desk and unwrapped it with care. “While I detested the idea of Smithby having this text when it should be in the possession of someone who values it, I never intended for Victor to come to harm.”

  “It sounds as if Smithby
values it but for all the wrong reasons,” Julia added.

  The leather cover was embossed, the elegant letters embedded into the aged leather.

  “It’s a work of art.” Julia reached out a tentative finger to touch the title.

  “Amazing.” Oliver opened the first few pages. Each chapter had an ornately drawn first letter. The lettering was perfect as though it had been printed on a press rather than with pen and ink.

  “Father would love to see this.”

  “Excuse me, my lord,” a footman said at the door. “The young lad is asking for you. He refuses to rest until he has a chance to tell you more.”

  “I’m anxious to hear the details.” He turned to Julia. “Will you excuse me while I see to him?”

  “Of course. I should return home. I don’t want to leave Father for long. He’ll be anxious to hear what you thought of his discovery.” She walked with him to the foyer. “Do keep us posted on the lad’s condition, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” Oliver noted the footman had returned upstairs, leaving him and Julia alone in the foyer. Unable to resist, he reached out to draw her closer, studying her guarded expression. “Thank you for helping with Victor.”

  “I’ll be anxious to hear what the doctor says. I hope it’s not too serious.”

  Though she stepped into his embrace, he could feel the distance between them. If only he knew what she might be thinking. “We have much to discuss, you and I.”

  She looked up into his eyes, her smile annoying the hell out of him. “Oh?”

  He decided to take her supposed ignorance of the valley between them as a challenge. Drawing her even closer, he took her mouth with his, putting all his desire into it, allowing his tongue to swoop into her mouth and demanding she respond.

  After a moment’s pause, she not only responded, but raised the stakes higher. He couldn’t doubt her passion.

  Christ but he wanted her so badly he ached. It wasn’t merely a physical ache, but an emotional longing for which he wasn’t prepared. The sweet taste of her, her scent, her softness against him, all made him want her even more. What was he to do?