Tempting Danger: Sinclair and Raven series

by Vella, Wendy

  “I cannot. Good evening.”

  She brushed past him and hurried away before he could stop her. Nicholas shook off his shock and followed, but she picked up her skirts and was soon running. In seconds he’d lost her, as she had clearly ducked down one of the lanes he’d passed. Retracing his steps, he looked for her, checking every alley, every object she could hide behind, but it was no good, she was gone. Why did that thought make him feel empty inside?

  “What the hell just happened?” No one answered him, of course. “Exceedingly strange.”

  Shaking his head once more, he wondered if it was he who was losing his mind and he’d imagined the entire incident. He pinched his arm, the sting of pain assuring him he wasn’t.

  Walking away, he vowed silently to find her, his Alice, if it was the last thing he did.

  Chapter Two

  Nicholas made his way along the street, attempting to work through his memory once more, now he could find some clarity in his thoughts, as to where he’d seen her face before.

  “No!” It came to him in a rush.

  She was in his vision. Last night, he’d had a woman come to him, that woman, and in her arms had been a babe. She’d told him to find the boy and return him to his mother.

  He’d woken aroused, his body tight with need.

  “Christ, what the hell did that mean?” It was her, he’d stake his life on that.

  “Nicholas?”

  “Max?” He looked at the large man walking toward him. At his side was another, equally as large. “What has you here?”

  Pushing thoughts of the woman to one side until he had more time to formulate a plan to find her, he shook the hand Max held out to him. He was part of Nicholas’s sister’s family by marriage. Max Huntington, a wealthy merchant who had married a nobleman’s daughter. Big, with the coloring of a tawny lion, he was not to be crossed, but if one was in his good books, as Nicholas usually was, he was a great person to have in your corner.

  “Ace and I are looking at an investment into a plot of land nearby. Have you two met before?” Max waved a hand at the behemoth at his side.

  Nicholas wasn’t a small man, but these two made him feel that way.

  “Oliver Dillinger.” He held out a large, dinner-plate sized hand for Nicholas to shake. “Ace, if you wish.”

  “Nicholas,” he replied.

  He knew who Dillinger was; there were not many who didn’t. He had made his fortune with his fists, then moved on to increase it through investments. He then married the Duke of Stratton’s sister.

  “For what purpose are you looking into purchasing the land?”

  Max always had his eye on some investment or other. Nicholas was often dragged in, as was the rest of their family.

  “Housing. I have a vision for a complex of houses. James has been doing some drawings for me, and Ace has the men to build the project.”

  “James draws?” Nicholas hadn’t known this about his cousin, who was Max’s brother and also the Duke of Raven.

  “He’s quite good, actually, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  Unlike the other members of the Raven and Sinclair families, Max was quiet and didn’t speak unless he had something to say.

  “Ace is also helping me find my siblings.”

  “Putting you in touch with the right people,” Ace clarified. “I have contacts in France; we’re hoping they can help.”

  The man smiled, and it changed his face completely. He appeared almost boyish now. Big, dark, he was a man who would intimidate anyone, but not while he was smiling.

  “I was unaware you had siblings, Max.”

  “I have a sister and a brother. I have been trying to locate them for years.”

  “I wish you luck then.”

  “I must leave you, Max. I am to meet Thea and the children. If I do not arrive, they shall be displeased and let me know about that for the remainder of the day,” Ace said. “Good day to you, Nicholas.”

  “Good day.” He nodded, watching as the two men made plans to meet again.

  “And you, Nicholas. What has you here on such a gloomy day?” Max asked after Ace had left.

  “I’m not entirely sure.” He went for the truth. “A hunch, or a need to ease my housekeeper’s misery.”

  He would not speak of the woman, Alice; that was his memory alone.

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “I was playing cards last night—”

  “It was my understanding you didn’t do that anymore.”

  “With my staff. We play for splinters of wood,” Nicholas said stiffly. He knew what he’d been but hoped those he called his family understood that he’d now changed.

  “Forgive me, I spoke only as your friend and out of worry. Of course you are no longer gambling.”

  Nicholas exhaled. “No, you are right to ask, forgive me for overreacting. It is one of the two vices I no longer allow myself to indulge... well, for money anyway.” Last night he’d gambled a woman’s clothes off her body. They’d been in her bedroom playing poker.

  “The second being alcohol?”

  “Yes.”

  “Continue with your story.”

  “My housekeeper is usually a demon at cards and beats me regularly.”

  “I doubt that. I’ve heard you are something of a legend with numbers. Dorrie told me that you taught her a few card tricks, and I have not beaten her since.”

  Nicholas laughed.

  “Mrs. Potter, my housekeeper, told me something that disturbed me greatly.”

  “What?”

  “She said she was at the birth of her first grandchild and vows the child was alive and wailing in good health. But the midwife took it into the other room immediately after it was delivered. When she returned, she was without the babe. She said she could do nothing to save it.”

  “Is your housekeeper sure she heard it cry?”

  “Very much so. She heard it clearly because she went to find out why the babe wasn’t returned to her daughter. When she walked into the room, the door to the street outside was open and the midwife was handing the infant to a man. She then asked what she was doing, and the woman said the child was dead and severely malformed, so the man would take him away and bury him.”

  “But surely the parents should bury the child?” Max sounded horrified.

  “The midwife said it was best the mother never saw how disfigured the child was, so she’d had someone take it away.”

  “Dear Christ.” The words hissed from Max.

  “Precisely. The mother also believed she heard the babe crying.”

  “But there is more to this than just the word of two emotionally drained women, isn’t there, Nicholas?”

  “You don’t think their word is enough?”

  “I do. But as someone who has stood outside the door while his wife suffers through childbirth for many hours, believe me when I tell you it plays its hand on your sanity.”

  I had a vision. The words didn’t leave his head.

  “Will you trust me when I tell you that I feel disturbed enough about what my housekeeper told me that I am investigating the matter?”

  “Of course.”

  “I fear that telling you more will bring my sanity into question.”

  “You do know who my family is, don’t you?”

  “I do, as my sister is part of that family.”

  “Sanity is a fine line, Nicholas, which we deviate from regularly. I love each and every one of them, but there is little doubting that at times even I have to question their motives.”

  The words had been said to make him laugh, to ease the tension that was suddenly in the air.

  “I’ll tell you something that happened to me before I left your brother-in-law’s house earlier.”

  “Lilly is well?” Nicholas asked.

  “Of course, fit and beautiful as she always is. Settle your fears, Nicholas, nothing is wrong with any family member.”

  He e
xhaled. His sister had become very important to him when he came to his senses and escaped the self-destruction of his soul he was undertaking on a daily basis.

  “What happened?”

  “Lilly said she’d been unsettled all day and felt something was off with you. She’d sent word to your house, but you had not replied. She then had a carriage drive her and Dev there, but you had left the house earlier.”

  Nicholas wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d often felt his sister’s pain and worry for him; that she felt his made him feel warm all over. Not that he wanted to worry her, but still it was a nice feeling.

  “It is natural to worry about those you care for.”

  “Not that much, and not so much that you feel what they feel,” Max added.

  “Is this your indirect way of getting me to tell you what you want to hear, Max?”

  “It could be, but I told you to strengthen the thought that we are all different, Nicholas. Some more than others, and believe me when I tell you the Sinclair and Raven family, of which you are part, are very, very different.”

  “I have visions,” Nicholas said slowly.

  “What form do they take?”

  He hadn’t scoffed or told him he was a fool; Max had simply asked what form they took.

  “Someone is usually asking me to do something. The vision I had the other night, just before I learned of my housekeeper’s misery, was of a woman holding a boy child. She asked me to help him come home. That he was alive but living with the wrong family.”

  Not just any woman, but one who had saved his life.

  “That has to be unsettling.”

  “Extremely.”

  “How long have you had these visions?”

  “For as long as I can remember. I pickled them in alcohol for a while, but now that I no longer imbibe, they are back.”

  “Interesting. You need to tell the others about them.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You must, Nicholas. Trust me on this. They will understand.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I can say no more, as it is not my story to tell. But you must speak to them.”

  “Very well.” Nicholas doubted he would but said the words anyway.

  “But now we will visit this midwife. I will stand at your back, looking menacing.”

  “A position you fill very well. How did you know I was going to pay a call on the midwife?”

  “A hunch.”

  He led the way, and soon they were approaching Cobbs Lane.

  “What number?” Max asked.

  “17.”

  The lane was like a dozen others in London. Narrow, with buildings bordering each side. Tall, they were pressed together like books on a shelf.

  Max was a silent, calm figure at his side, lending his support simply by being there.

  A freshly painted sign with the number 17 on it told him he’d found his destination. Unlike the other buildings, this one was set back slightly. Walking up the narrow path, he found an old wooden building, another sign, this one with the word Midwife above the door.

  “I shall wait here,” Max said.

  Nicholas had left his house at 3:30 p.m. so he estimated it was closing in on 6:00 p.m. now. Was it too late to call? He knew nothing about the hours a midwife kept, but thought they were likely nocturnal. Taking the two wobbly steps up, he left Max behind and avoided the last step, which had a crack, then rapped on the wooden door. He had only a few minutes to wait before it opened.

  “Good evening.” She was tall, close to his own height, and of a slender build. Nicholas put her age at approximately sixty years, but then he’d never been overly accurate judging a woman’s age, and to be honest, what man would want to try?

  “Good evening. Is it possible for me to speak with Mrs. Adley?”

  He’d thought about what he would say if he encountered the midwife who attended Mrs. Potter’s daughter’s birth. If there was something sinister going on, he had no wish to alert the woman to his suspicions, and yet he needed to ask questions.

  “I am she. Do you have a woman giving birth?” Noticing Max, who was still at the bottom of the stairs, she gave him a nod.

  “Good day,” Max replied.

  “No. I wish to discuss the birth you attended three nights ago.”

  Something changed in her face; it was slight, but as Nicholas was looking directly at the woman, he saw it clearly.

  “Which birth?”

  “Shall I enter your establishment, and we can discuss the matter further?”

  “I’m on my way out,” she rushed to say.

  She was panicking now. Eyes wide, gaze shooting from him to Max. He doubted it was his presence creating this reaction, but he would not discount that it was guilt-induced fear.

  “My housekeeper is one Mrs. Potter. Her daughter recently gave birth; she is the one I wish to discuss. Mrs. Jane Budd. She gave birth to a son you declared dead soon after.”

  “He was dead!”

  The panic had moved up a notch, and her knuckles turned white, clenched around the door. She was also shrieking at him.

  “In their grief-stricken state, both Mrs. Potter and her daughter believed they heard the babe cry.”

  “The women were crazed with grief, they would react no other way! Now I must go.”

  Nicholas placed his boot in the doorway as she attempted to close it and gave it a small push.

  “I have not finished asking questions, Mrs. Adley. Why were they not allowed to bury their babe? To have nowhere to grieve is surely the cruelest of things for a parent to suffer after the loss of a child?”

  “I have nothing to say to you!”

  “Why did you take the child away so the parents couldn’t see him, Mrs. Adley?”

  “H-he was deformed. It was f-for the b-best.” Her face was pale, and she was shaking now.

  “Who’s there, Lissy?”

  He watched a man appear behind the midwife. Big and burly, he looked like someone who could be ready with his fists. But Nicholas had learned a trick or two during his gambling days, and combined with James’s teachings, he was more than capable of defending himself should it be required.

  “Good day to you, sir. I am Lord Braithwaite.”

  The man nodded. “Mr. Adley. Do you have a woman expecting?”

  “I do not. I have some questions that I would like answered,” Nicholas said calmly. Mrs. Adley was now looking desperate. She was pushed aside roughly by a large hand, forcing her into the wall.

  “What questions?”

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Adley?”

  “I asked you a question,” the man demanded, jutting out his jaw.

  “And I will answer it as soon as you apologize to your wife for your behavior.” Nicholas’s anger was usually slow to rise, but he could not abide bullies. “You are twice her size, sir, and had no right to treat her in that manner.”

  “I can treat my wife how I want, now leave here.” The man took a menacing step toward Nicholas. He stood his ground.

  “It’s been an observation of mine that bullies are cowards. Care to test my theory, Mr. Adley?”

  Nicholas stepped back as the door was slammed in his face.

  “That went well,” Max said from his position at the bottom of the steps.

  “I’m glad you came to watch over me,” Nicholas said, joining him.

  “You were never in danger. In fact, you were taunting a reaction from him.”

  “I don’t like bullies or men who intimidate woman,” Nicholas muttered.

  “Agreed, even if there was something off about that entire exchange.”

  “She was nervous.”

  “Extremely. Guilty, I would add to that. Something is not right there, Max. I need to find out what.”

  That boy needs to go home to his parents. He is living with the wrong family. The woman had told him that in a vision. The woman with green eyes and no name. The woman who had felt like sin in his arms and tasted
like heaven.

  The woman named Alice.

  Chapter Three

  “So how does one go about proving a babe was alive when it was taken from the mother?” Nicholas said as they retraced their steps. “And what if it wasn’t alive, and the parent just felt it was and hysteria, as you alluded to, was the reason they believe it is alive?”

  “You’re doubting yourself now... after that conversation?”

  “No... yes,” Nicholas sighed. “It almost seems unbelievable that someone would do such a thing.”

  “What about your visions, Nicholas? Are they usually steeped in fact or fiction?”

  “Fact.”

  “I think you have your answer then. Something is off, and for whatever reason, you have been chosen to look into the matter.”

  “What the hell does that mean... chosen?”

  Max shot him a sideways look as they walked along the gloomy London street.

  “It means that you had the vision and the housekeeper to alert you to this. It’s up to you now to do something about it.”

  They walked as the rain started to fall.

  “I loathe this weather,” Max muttered.

  “At least it’s not cold.”

  “Small consolation, I assure you. Now hurry it along.”

  “Where are we hurrying it along to?” Nicholas asked.

  “It’s the twins’ birthday dinner. They will love it if you are there.”

  Nicholas liked his family, as he called all of them now. The entire Sinclair and Raven clan. After all, he had a foot in each. He was the Duke of Raven’s cousin, and brother-in-law of Lord Sinclair.

  “I don’t have a gift.”

  “We’ll stop somewhere on the way.”

  “I really don’t want to intrude.” He gave a half-hearted protest, when really the prospect of not going home to his empty house was a pleasing one.

  “You’re family, how is that intruding?” Max waved down a hackney as they reached the main road.

  “I had plans,” he said, because he did, but not until later... much later.

  “She’ll wait, I’m sure.”

  “How do you know it’s a she?”

  Max raised a brow as he settled in the seat beside Nicholas.

  “I like women.”