Daring the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 7)

by Lana Williams

  An uncomfortable feeling made Elijah shift. He hoped to soon escape to speak with Lillian. The maze was becoming more appealing with each passing moment.

  “I heard a rumor you were involved in a new venture.” Pingsley waved over a footman who carried a tray of drinks.

  “Several, actually.” Elijah knew he shouldn’t be surprised at how quickly news spread—regardless of whether it was gossip or business dealings—amid the ton, but he was. “To which one do you refer?”

  “The one in India caught my interest.”

  “Railways there will provide needed infrastructure for the country. I thought it a sound investment of capital.”

  “This doesn’t sound like anything your father would’ve chosen.” A note of disapproval laced Pingsley’s tone that Elijah couldn’t miss.

  “My father was a wonderful man. But times change, and I know he’d want me to keep abreast of those changes.”

  “Forging your own path, eh?”

  Elijah nodded, though he wasn’t certain that described what he was doing. He was merely trying to move forward in a logical manner and in a way that would provide a living for the many who relied on him as well as for future generations.

  “Pardon me,” Elijah said. “I see someone else with whom I’d like to speak.”

  “Of course.”

  Elijah moved through the crowd, nodding at a few, avoiding others, until he reached Lillian’s side. He didn’t care if he was interrupting. “Good afternoon.”

  “Your grace,” she said with a curtsy. “It is indeed. Have you met Viscount Caldwell, Julia’s brother?”

  Worry fled from Elijah in a moment at the idea that he was more of a relative rather than a rival. Luckily, the viscount said he needed to see to his father who he’d accompanied and stepped away, leaving them alone for the moment.

  “Are you enjoying the party?” Elijah asked.

  “It’s lovely. And you?” There it was again—the reserve she now had when he was near.

  “Quite nice.” He studied her expression, wishing there was some way he could discover her thoughts.

  She looked at him warily, as if uncertain what to do with him. He didn’t care for the feeling.

  “Would you care to walk through the gardens?”

  “That would be lovely,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation.

  He was starting to detest the word ‘lovely.’ He offered his elbow, and they wandered about with no destination in mind.

  “Thank you for the beautiful flowers.” Lillian looked at him from beneath her lashes. “That was kind of you.”

  Kind? That was worse than lovely. And it wasn’t how he wanted her to think of him. “I hope you enjoy them.”

  “Why?” She stopped to study at a flower, but he didn’t think she actually saw it.

  “Why what?” He didn’t understand the question.

  She turned to face him at last. “Why did you send them?”

  He frowned, feeling as though he were treading on uneven ground. The look in her eyes suggested she wanted something, but he had no idea what. “Because I thought you might enjoy them?”

  She said nothing, just continued to watch him.

  “Lillian, I don’t know what you want me to say. Did you not care for them?”

  “Did you send them out of gratitude?”

  Gratitude was the last thing on his mind.

  “For my visits with the duchess,” she continued. “For the painting items.” She waved her hand as though to encompass all of it.

  Puzzled, he said, “I appreciated you doing that.”

  “Because I didn’t do any of those things for you. I mean, I did, but I didn’t.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I know I’m not making any sense.”

  “No.”

  She looked at him, raising a brow. “No?”

  Now he realized he was the one who wasn’t being clear. “No, I didn’t send them to you out of gratitude for visiting my mother, though I can’t thank you enough for doing so.”

  “Then why?”

  He tilted his head as he studied her, at last recognizing her uncertainty and vulnerability. “Because you are special, and I’m growing to care for you.”

  She seemed to analyze his answer, turning it this way and that, as if it didn’t fit with her expectations.

  He hadn’t been completely truthful. ‘Coming to care for you’ was an understatement. But he wasn’t certain she was prepared for the truth. He knew he wasn’t. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who had placed a wall between them.

  “I see,” she said.

  He was losing her. He could see it. A bolder statement was needed—one more truthful. “The time we’ve spent together leaves me longing for when I’ll see you again.”

  The tightness in her expression eased, and she nodded. “I feel the same way.”

  Pleasure hummed through him at her words. It might be a small step, but this felt like a move in the right direction.

  One day at a time, he reminded himself. Or rather—one moment at a time. This moment was one he intended to cherish. He was with Lillian, and that pleased him more than he was willing to share.

  Her full lips curved into a smile. Her broad-brimmed hat a shade deeper than her pink gown echoed the healthy glow of her cheeks. A pulse beat steadily at the base of her throat. The lines of her gown swept around her body into a small bustle and emphasized her curves.

  “Let us not worry over the morrow but enjoy this afternoon together,” he suggested. At her nod, he started walking again. “Are you feeling venturous enough to explore the maze?”

  She chuckled, her green eyes meeting his. “Anyone watching would find that quite scandalous.”

  “Time alone with you would be worth any scandal.”

  She laughed but quickened her step. “Perhaps we’ll be hopelessly lost.”

  His heart hammered. He’d been right; this time together was to be cherished. He looked forward to making more memories with her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “At their [tee-totaler] feasts and picnics, they carry banners on which is inscribed their determination to refrain from what they have never tasted;”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Lillian looped her arm through Violet’s as they entered The Museum of Spiritual & Psychical Artifacts. “This ought to prove interesting.”

  “I will reserve my opinion until after we complete our tour of the exhibit.” Violet glanced about suspiciously as though expecting to be tricked at any moment.

  “I thought you agreed to keep an open mind?” Lillian asked.

  The two-story home had been converted into a museum to showcase a collection of artifacts dating back to the ancient Egyptians. Lillian had found an advertisement for it in the news sheet and been intrigued. Julia had refused to accompany her, stating she had no wish to speak to anyone who’d passed. Lillian was certain she referred to her mother, who’d died in less than ideal circumstances.

  “I am keeping an open mind. But if we had the ability to speak with the dead, I think it would’ve been documented by now.”

  “There are numerous books and articles on the topic.”

  “Humph. I’ve read one or two and didn’t believe a word of them,” Violet countered.

  “You only say that because you don’t know anyone who’s passed with whom you wish to speak.” Lillian didn’t truly expect anything to come of this outing, but if there was any chance Helena could give her a sign that...

  That what?

  Lillian was already convinced Elijah hadn’t knowingly hurt Helena. She supposed she just wanted reassurance that her friend was at peace. Or maybe that Lillian’s growing feelings for Elijah weren’t a mistake. Or that she was worthy of his affection.

  She sighed. Her emotions were so confused she didn’t know what she wanted. But she missed being able to speak with her friend.

  “True,” Violet agreed. “I don’t think Aunt Ruby went to the other side with any secrets. Another conversation with
her would do little good when the last one was a lecture on how we must improve our posture.”

  “Still, you have to admit it would be convenient to have even a few more minutes with those who have gone before us.”

  “Are you thinking of your friend Helena?” Violet asked with a gentleness Lillian appreciated.

  “Yes, I confess I am. The idea of never speaking with her again is difficult.” She knew she wasn’t the only one who would appreciate a few more minutes with someone who’d died. “I wonder if the duchess would benefit from a few more minutes with her husband?”

  “Or would that only make her miss him all the more?”

  Lillian had to swallow against the lump in her throat. “You may be right. Perhaps there’s a reason for the veil that’s said to remain between this life and the next.”

  “Grieving is difficult enough, let alone doing it twice for the same person.” Violet shook her head. “Can you imagine?”

  “No. It’s terrible to consider.” She paused as she looked about the foyer of the museum. Dark wood and red wallpaper created a dramatic backdrop for brass fixtures and a crystal chandelier. The combination cast glittering light that caused her to think something moved out of the corner of her eye, a disconcerting sensation that made her uneasy.

  “Shall we start with how the pharaohs hoped to contact their dead?” Violet asked as she read the sign explaining the organization of the exhibit. “Then work our way to the present?”

  Lillian took a deep breath. This had seemed like such an interesting outing only yesterday. But when faced with the actual items proclaimed to have successfully contacted the dead, she was no longer so sure. “Yes, but I reserve the right to abandon the tour if it’s too unsettling.”

  “Or too unbelievable.”

  Lillian chuckled. “I’m pleased you’re with me. Your logic and disbelief are just what I need as we go through the exhibits.”

  “Remember that just because one person believes something doesn’t make it the truth.”

  Lillian held that statement in her mind as they paid the fee, leaving the maid sitting in a chair in the foyer as she didn’t wish to tour the museum. “It gives me the shivers to even consider such things,” she protested.

  Violet and Lillian made their way to the upper floor where the Egyptian artifacts were displayed. A note of explanation was carefully lettered beneath each piece, sharing how the item was used along with where and when it had been collected.

  Most of the exhibits were in glass display cases. But a tall sarcophagus stood in the corner, its painted eyes staring across the room with an intensity Lillian found disconcerting.

  She and Violet walked along, whispering to each other as they went. A few others were touring, but the atmosphere of the museum seemed to demand quiet.

  In the next room, several items from India were displayed.

  “Isn’t it interesting that no matter the religion, people try to reach out to the loved ones they lost?” Lillian asked in a hushed tone.

  “The methods are so varied, yet some are similar. Fascinating.”

  Next came a few medieval items, including an ornate shield said to be used by a long forgotten Saxon king’s wife to connect with him. “Oliver should’ve come. He would’ve enjoyed seeing this.”

  Violet smiled. “He might’ve found that of interest, but I can’t believe he’d enjoy the full tour.”

  “No, he’s far too practical. Although, he has an ancient book called The Book of Secrets said to have some spell or charm that can raise the dead.”

  Violet’s eyes went wide. “Truly? Has he ever tried it?”

  “I don’t think so. He says some things shouldn’t be tested.”

  “No wonder he enjoys reading those old books. One never knows what they might reveal.”

  Lillian hadn’t mentioned her visit to the museum to either Elijah or his mother. As much as they missed the previous duke, she wasn’t certain what they’d think about trying to contact him. She didn’t want to upset them.

  “The benefit of having faith is knowing your loved one is in a better place,” Lillian said. An ancient-looking mirror caught her notice. Its elaborate metal frame appeared tarnished. The silvered glass held an unusual ripple along the edge. Or was she seeing a reflection of something in the room? She had the oddest feeling as she stared at it.

  “Don’t look at your reflection in that.” Violet tugged her to the side. She shuddered then pointed to the paper describing the mirror.

  The Mirror of the Veil is said to allow individuals with ‘the power’ to see those on the other side. Beware staring overlong as some who dared to do so were pulled unwillingly to the other side, never to be seen again.

  A news sheet article was displayed next to the note.

  “Young Girl’s Disappearance Attributed to Magical Mirror,” the headline read.

  The odd feeling Lillian had when standing before the mirror prevented her from scoffing at the article. She glanced at it again, wondering if she’d truly seen movement in its murky depth. She turned to ask Violet if she’d seen it too, only to find her friend staring at the mirror as if mesmerized.

  “Violet?” she whispered. When she didn’t respond, Lillian reached out to pull her away. “Violet.”

  Violet blinked rapidly, at last focusing on Lillian before glancing back at the artifact. “I could’ve sworn I saw—”

  “I know.” Lillian shook her head. “Let us move on. I don’t care for that item.”

  “What do you suppose a séance would be like?” Violet asked with a wary glance over her shoulder at the mirror one last time. “If one had that mirror and conducted a séance...”

  “Remember? There’s no one you wish to speak with on the other side.”

  “Right.” She frowned. “That mirror was disturbing.”

  They finished viewing the exhibits on the upper floor and moved down to the main level. More mirrors were displayed, but none that caused the strange feeling like the one upstairs. The items on this floor included special gas lamps said to better illuminate spirits, unique cabinets that provided a door to the other world, and musical instruments that lured forth spirits.

  Lillian decided she’d had enough. The longer she was there, the more unsettled she became. “I believe I’ve seen all I want,” she whispered to Violet.

  “Good.” Her friend looked relieved. “Let us leave this place.”

  They stepped outside and hurried down the front steps to the walkway along with the maid.

  Lillian drew a relieved breath as she looked up at the museum. She no longer believed she wanted the chance to contact Helena. Oliver was right—some things shouldn’t be tested. “All those things gathered in one place gives them a certain power, don’t you think?”

  “The mirror bothered me the most.” Violet shook her head. “For a moment, I would’ve sworn I saw a glimpse of a blonde-haired girl near the edge of the glass.”

  Lillian rubbed her arms to ease the goose pimples that appeared, for she would’ve sworn she’d seen the same girl. And she’d almost looked like Helena.

  ~*~

  When Elijah arrived at Rutland’s home that afternoon, Frost was already there, just as he’d hoped. He’d requested both men meet with him so he could share what he’d learned.

  “We have a situation that could prove either potentially dangerous or of no consequence,” Elijah said after the footman had closed the library door.

  Frost’s brow raised. “That leaves a wide range of possibilities.”

  Elijah took a seat before Rutland’s desk next to Frost. “The Earl of Pennsboro is hosting one of the larger parties of the Season next week. I assume you both received invitations?”

  The two men nodded.

  “I understand he’s in a worse financial condition than either of the last two lords who served the tainted alcohol.”

  “That doesn’t mean that he’ll order alcohol from Hurley,” Frost advised.

  “Actually, it could.” Rutland leaned f
orward, his elbows on his desk. “The Marquess of Barbon and Pennsboro are friends. They might have discussed the topic of inexpensive suppliers before Barbon realized anything was amiss with his own order.”

  “Barbon remains unconvinced there was any problem with the liquor he served,” Elijah advised. “He wants proof.”

  “I’ve also received disturbing news on Hurley’s operations,” Rutland said. “Jack McCarthy has formed some sort of alliance with him.”

  “Damn,” Frost said with a shake of his head.

  “Who’s Jack McCarthy?” Elijah asked.

  “One of the worst criminals in the entire city,” Rutland answered. “We’ve been watching his movements for some time. Thus far, he’s escaped our clutches, much to my frustration. Do you remember the situation Choral mentioned?”

  “The young girls in Belgium?” Elijah remembered all too well.

  “He’s the one sending the girls. He’s also involved with luring prostitutes from the homes for fallen women to return to prostitution in his own brothels. And he’s a smuggler and runs a ring of professional thieves.”

  “In other words, there isn’t much he doesn’t do,” Elijah said. “Why would he become involved with Hurley?”

  “That is an excellent question,” Frost added as he and Elijah both looked to Rutland for an explanation.

  “I’m only hazarding a guess, but I would venture to say he’s doing as he’s done so many times before—inserting himself into a business showing significant promise of growth.”

  “Why start from scratch if you can take over something that has proven worthy?” Elijah scoffed.

  “I don’t think I have to tell either of you how concerning this is,” Rutland added. “With McCarthy behind him, Hurley could make significant advances in his business. McCarthy has contacts in the police department as well as potential new customers.” He shook his head. “The business might spread more quickly than we can stop it.”

  From Rutland’s demeanor, Elijah could tell how disgusted he was by this development. “Then our efforts to catch Hurley become even more important,” Elijah said. As he hadn’t succeeded in helping his mother, going after Hurley made him feel less like a failure.