The Troublesome Apprentice (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 1)

by Liza O'Connor

  “Me thinks thou doth protest too much,” Claire teased, and escaped her chair before Vic could douse her with water. “And you are clearly picking up Mr. Thorn’s bad manners. Gregory feared as much.”

  “Do not tell Gregory about any of this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he will follow me to work in the morning and give Xavier a verbal thrashing.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Thorn needs a dressing down.”

  “But I need to learn how to balance a ledger and Xavier has assured me, if he starts his day in a surly mood, he remains so.”

  “My poor Vic, the light of freedom was so bright we never considered the cost of emancipation.” She knelt beside the tub. “I only hope your path does not carry too high a price. If Mr. Thorn discovers the truth, will he reveal your secret?”

  “No. He will no doubt be furious, and I’m certain he’ll fire me, but when I explain the situation and the danger it will put you in, if the truth becomes known, I’m positive he will keep my secret.”

  Claire’s dimples appeared as she grinned mischievously. “All will be well…for your current employment sounds most dreadful and, once he fires you, you can apply to a bank.”

  Chapter 6

  In dreary darkness, Vic stood on the doorstep of Xavier’s office and rang the bell. She waited thirty seconds and knocked three times. After another thirty seconds, she rang the bell again. She had her fist posed to pound the door when it flew open and her very sleepy, rumpled, and bare-chested employer glared at her. He reached forward, snared her arm, and pulled her inside.

  After re-locking the door, he stumbled into his office. A moment later, he returned and slammed a key into her palm. “I am going back to bed. Wake me up in an hour,” he ordered and stomped upstairs.

  She watched him climb the steps and admired the well-defined muscles on his arms and shoulders, the way his torso cut in to give him a V shape, and the movement of his buttocks beneath the silk sleeping pants he wore. When he reached the top, he turned around to face her. She found the front view even more beguiling.

  Sensing he could divine her thoughts, she stopped admiring his body and stared defiantly into his dark, penetrating eyes. “I suppose I’ll get an early start on this mess you’ve left me.”

  He smiled ever so slightly, sending shivers of excitement through her body.

  Blushing from head to toe, she escaped to her desk and assessed how to fix matters. Her main problem was she lacked the required items to fix any of the piles. To pay the bills she would need a checkbook or cash. To deposit the checks she would require a deposit slip. To mail the letters she would need stamps. While she was an excellent typewriter, to retype the letter, Vic still required a writing machine.

  Since Xavier more than likely kept his checkbooks and deposit slips in his safe, those would have to wait. Given a search of her desk revealed no stamps, she’d have to buy them when the Postal Office opened. However, if she could locate the typewriter, she could at least complete one task. She hoped Xavier had the American Sholes Glidden device manufactured by Remington instead of the English Hanson writing ball, because she hadn’t a clue how to use the latter.

  Vic sighed with relief upon sight of the Remington in Xavier’s office. Her science professor at Oxford had declared her handwriting illegible and suggested she learn to type. Instead of taking insult, she’d investigated the myriad of typing machines currently available and settled on the same one Xavier had chosen.

  She had just finished retyping the third letter when Xavier’s hands settled on her shoulders and he leaned forward to study her work. He remained bare-chested in his silk sleeping pants and smelled wonderfully masculine, a mixture of musk and tobacco.

  “Did I give you permission to enter my office?” he asked, clearly in a better mood, despite his provoking question.

  “Implicitly you did, for you told me to retype the letter and, since you possess the only machine in the office, one can reasonably presume permission to enter the room it resides in order to complete your request.” Vic stopped talking because his hands remained on her shoulders and caused a stirring within her. When he did not counter-challenge her observation, she continued. “Now, if you will give me the combination to your safe, I will retrieve the checkbook, deposit slips, and money required to complete the other tasks.”

  He laughed outright while his hands encircled her neck as if he planned to strangle her. “Not bloody likely.” He loosened his grip, but did not release her. “I understand your need of the checkbook and deposit slips, but would you care to explain your need to pilfer my money?”

  “We are out of stamps.”

  “Ah…a false assumption. If you had checked my desk drawer, you would have found the necessary stamps.” He returned his hands to her shoulders.

  She turned and frowned at him, trying to ignore his naked chest and focus on his sparkling eyes and beautiful hawk nose. “I would have expected you to keep your desk drawer locked.”

  “Right you are, and you will not receive a key to that either.”

  “Perhaps you could remove the stamps from your drawer and place them in my care, since I have need of them and you do not.”

  He retracted his warm hands from her shoulders and a chill settled in their absence. After making a great fuss over opening the drawer, he presented her with stamps. “Do not lose them.”

  She laughed at him as she rose. “Are you always so obliging in the mornings? I would have thought otherwise.”

  “I seem to find myself in better spirits than normal,” he admitted. “No doubt due to your early arrival.”

  She glanced at her pocket watch. It was not yet six. “I gather you were unable to return to sleep.”

  “Not when I could sense someone rifling about in my office.”

  She laughed again. “Will you teach me how to balance a ledger? I doubt I am ever to find you in better spirits.”

  “Bring the ledger, the bills, and the un-deposited checks and we will begin, but I give you fair warning, my good mood will soon fade, for God knows what has been done in the past.”

  “I’ll bring the requested items, but remember, I am not asking you to fix the problems, only show me how to balance the ledger correctly. Once I understand the process, I will tend to past errors.”

  Chapter 7

  “What the hell am I doing?” Xavier muttered once Victor left his office.

  While this morning gave him clear proof the young man was attracted to him, the pup was clearly inexperienced. Unfortunately, Xavier found himself in the same boat and was uncertain how to proceed in such murky waters.

  He’d never considered the idea he might prefer men, but beyond the surprise at finding it to be true, he held no great shame. However, young men frequently suffered guilt as they took to heart society’s condemnation of homosexuality. He had to be careful not to draw Victor into waters too fast, causing him to panic—nor too deep, causing him to drown.

  The boy returned, his arms laden with the ledger and stacks of paper. Upon sight of the copious bills, Xavier’s temper rose several degrees. What the bloody hell was so difficult about logging bills and paying them on time?

  Victor turned the ledger to a new page. “I have ordered the bills by their date-due so they can be entered in chronological order.”

  “Chronological is correct, but why are you beginning on a new page? That creates a break with the past.”

  “I believe there is a good chance I am going to have to redo the past, so a break is inevitable.” Victor gripped the edge of the book so Xavier could not view the prior entries. “It will only make you angry, sir, and I think you’ll need all your patience to endure my ignorance, for I truly know nothing about ledgers.”

  “You knew they were listed in chronological order.” He pulled a second chair to his desk. “Well, let us begin.”

  The moment their thighs pressed against one another, Xavier couldn’t remember a damn thing about keeping ledgers and, from the blush on Victor�
��s face, he wasn’t certain his student would hear a word of his lesson.

  “Perhaps I should stand and watch from behind you,” Victor offered.

  “And leave me to do the work? Not a chance, you wily sluggard.” He stood up, pushing the second chair away. “I will stand and you will write.”

  Once he was convinced Victor had calmed enough to learn, he explained the purpose of double entry bookkeeping. “It provides you two views of your business, one in cash, and the other in profit.”

  Sensing Vic had grasped the intent of the process, he showed him how to log the bills. To no surprise, Victor grasped the concept at once and proved himself quite astute at classifying the type of asset or liability the bills represented. He extracted a separate ledger from his safe and allowed Vic to place the second half of the entries into it.

  Victor studied the page. “This ledger is in your handwriting.”

  “You don’t think I’d let those imbeciles touch my profit and loss ledger, do you?”

  “So they only had half the job?”

  “Which they completely bungled,” he added. He chucked Victor’s chin. “I trust you will do better?”

  “I will…” Victor paused and smiled mischievously, “do much better.”

  Xavier smiled in return. The pup had remembered he disliked the phrase ‘I will try.’

  He could have sent the boy to his own desk, but Xavier enjoyed the brief moments of intimacy as he stood behind the young man’s chair and leaned in to study the ledger.

  While Victor did not seem to mind his leaning forward, or placing hands on his shoulders, the moment he allowed his hand to slip inside the collar of Victor’s shirt, the boy jumped up, observing the time. “It’s seven-thirty, sir. Almost time to open the office. Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”

  Xavier almost asked ‘get dressed for what’ when he realized he remained in his sleeping trousers.

  “You have an eight-thirty appointment,” Victor added. “That is, if I read the appointment book correctly. It’s a bit ambiguous.”

  “What could possibly be ambiguous about an appointment book?”

  “Well, the appointment is listed at nine a.m., but an arrow is drawn up to eight thirty.”

  “Damn it! How is it possible to mangle something as simple as a schedule? I want you to go through and clarify any uncertain appointments. I want it done by noon, do you understand?”

  Victor gathered both ledgers and the bills, and ran from the room. Xavier’s temper diminished as his attention returned to Victor. Clearly, he must be the seducer in this entanglement. He had no experience in the arts of seduction, making it a challenge never tried before. Xavier dearly loved a challenge.

  Plotting his next move, he returned upstairs to dress.

  Chapter 8

  Vic understood why none of the prior secretaries had lasted long. Xavier didn’t trust them enough to give them everything they needed to do their job. Additionally, he sent them off on silly tasks, distracting them from the critical chores.

  Even now, she wasted time searching the appointment book for additional ambiguous times, when she should be writing checks. Unfortunately, she had allowed Xavier to escape upstairs without opening the safe. Thus, she could not pay the bills nor write the deposit slip. Yet, she had no doubt the moment the clock turned nine, he’d demand to know why the items weren’t in the bank.

  Thankfully, he returned to his desk by eight a.m. She knocked on his door and waited for him to answer. When he didn’t, she knocked again, this time louder.

  “Is it your intention to break the door down?” he asked from the other side.

  “No, sir, I am only waiting for your permission to enter.”

  “Very wise on your part. You may enter.”

  He held his inkwell in his hand, poised to throw as she entered.

  “Don’t even think it.”

  “Watch your growl, impertinent pup.” He set the jar down. “What the devil do you want? I’ve spent my entire morning playing with you. Why won’t you get to work?”

  “Playing!” Vic reined in her agitation. She could tell by the gleam in Xavier’s eyes he purposely provoked her. “I need the checkbook and deposit slips, please.”

  “Why did you not ask for them before? You are cutting it very close, scamp. I gave you clear instructions to have them in the bank by nine.”

  “The faster you give me the deposit slips, the more likely it will happen.”

  “That’s not the attitude I wish to hear, Victor. You should assure me you’ll see it done,” he chided as he walked to the safe, blocking her view with his back, and opened it.

  When he only handed her the receipts, she lost her temper. “Sir, as I mentioned, I need the checkbook, as well.”

  “You are not going to have time for that. In fact, you are going to need help getting anything done because whatever time Mrs. Wimple arrives, you are expected to offer the lady and me tea. After which, you will sit and take notes of our meeting. I am certainly not going to give you my valuables so you can leave them on your desk unattended, where any thief or vagabond can write themselves a pretty fortune on my account.”

  “I understand and agree my desk is not secure, but how do you expect me to make a deposit, fix tea, and sit here taking notes at the same time?”

  Xavier eyebrow rose in a challenge. “You’re a clever fellow. Figure it out.”

  Vic left the room, muttering she’d be better served figuring out and fixing whatever had broken in his mind.

  Engrossed with her impossible tasks, she didn’t notice the man sitting in the corner until he sniffled. She jumped a solid foot off the chair before she recognized him as the same fellow Xavier had spoken to outside her library window. “You work for Xavier, don’t you?”

  “Name’s Davy,” the man said. “Sorry I spooked you. I’m supposed to sit here and wait in case anything needs to be taken somewhere, or something needs to be picked up.”

  “Would that include deposits for the bank?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  Vic smiled at his answer. She wrote up the deposit slip and handed it to Davy with the checks.

  Davy turned the latter over. “He’s got to sign them over to the bank.” Vic cursed her mistake and ran to Xavier’s door where he proceeded to ignore her until she pounded on the door. She obtained his signature on the back of each, but with a warning.

  “The next time you knock more than once, I am going to throw a bloody chair,” Xavier promised.

  Vic returned and handed her helper the signed documents. “Thanks. You’ll have them at the bank precisely at nine?”

  Davy sniffled and assured her he would.

  As she sat at her desk, a sense of smugness overcame her. Her three tasks were now down to two, and pouring tea was not difficult…unless she had no hot water prepared.

  She jumped from her desk and ran upstairs to the kitchen. The kettle rested on the stove, but the contents were barely tepid. She cursed and opened the stove trying to divine how the damn thing operated.

  After a few false starts, she had a fire going. She only hoped she wasn’t going to cause a disaster simply because she had too much pride to lose this challenge. She searched the cabinets for the teapot and cups. Upon locating them, she gave them a good scrubbing, for a layer of grime and dust had settled in their bottoms. Next, she located the tea in the pantry. The canister was nearly empty. She’d need to send Davy for more.

  She made a mental list of what she needed, turned to hurry downstairs, and nearly ran into Xavier, who leaned on the doorframe.

  “Thought you’d run off.” He glanced at the stove. “First time you ever started a coal-burning stove?”

  “First time I’ve ever started any stove,” she admitted. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not if you wished to burn down my place of business.”

  As he opened the stove door, flames shot out. For a moment, Vic feared Xavier’s beautiful face would pay the price for her stupidity. Howeve
r, his reflexes proved lightning fast, and he pulled back in time to avoid harm. Cursing the stove a blue streak, Xavier grabbed a pair of iron tongs, pulled half the coal from the flaming inferno, and dropped them in a bucket. Dousing the coal with her tea water, he closed the door of the furnace and handed her the empty kettle and pail.

  “The coal needs to be dried out and you’ll find more water for the kettle from the spigot by the back door. Make certain you are at your desk and presentable when Mrs. Wimple arrives.”

  “Yes, sir.” She appreciated him letting her off easy, given her stupidity.

  ***

  Xavier returned to his desk and stared at Mrs. Wimple’s file in agitation. Damn fool! He should have realized Victor wouldn’t have a clue as to the workings of a stove. Maddy had a household full of servants. Thank God, he had checked up on the young man. What if Victor had opened the furnace door? The burst of flames could have scarred him for life.

  He had to be careful with his challenges. He liked the boy’s determination not to fail, but he did not want Victor injured because he lacked critical knowledge. Once he finished with Mrs. Wimple, Xavier would try to straighten the matter out. Victor must feel safe enough to admit his ignorance when receiving his challenges.

  A firm but not overly loud cadence of three knocks sounded on his door. Xavier bid enter and Vic announced Mrs. Wimple was here for her eight thirty appointment. “Bring her in.”

  Mrs. Wimple entered and, before Xavier could ask if she wished tea, Victor, the impertinent pup, asked the question as he showed her to a chair. She requested tea, and Victor promised to bring it shortly.

  “He’s new,” Mrs. Wimple said once the scamp had left the room.

  “Yes, I recently acquired him. He’s just come down from Oxford.”

  “Oxford,” Mrs. Wimple repeated, clearly impressed. “I would not think a young man from Oxford would wish to be a mere secretary.”

  “Daresay you are right. Victor is my apprentice. He is learning the craft of investigation.”