To Love in Silence (Currents of Love Book 3)

by Emilee Harris

  From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Sarah and his mother bolting up straight in their seats and looking toward the door. Following their gazes, he turned in time to see Mallory striding through the door and signing, “What in the world is going on? This place is a madhouse of activity.”

  Sarah darted across the room toward him before Eric had a chance to open his mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Halting a few paces in front of him, she contented herself with wringing her hands in front of her before signing, “Oh, Sir Thomas! Sarah responded before Eric had a chance to open his mouth. It's the most dreadful thing! Marissa has gone missing!”

  “What? Mallory had the good manners to display significant surprise as he shuffled his gaze between the occupants of the room, looking first at Sarah then to her mother who still sat head in her hands in the corner, and finally to Eric his gaze pleading for confirmation. Eric nodded.

  “Is there anything you can do to help, Sir Thomas?” Sarah pleaded, bringing her clasped hands up in front of her.

  “Of course, I'll do whatever I can but, he paused and looked again toward Eric “Eric, I'm sorry but I came here to find you. Something else has gone amiss, and I'm in need of your help.”

  “Thomas,” irritation rose in Eric's tone. “This is certainly not the time.”

  “Please Eric, hear me out,” Mallory took a step in his direction. “My concern has to do only with tonight, after which we can begin a wholehearted search effort for Marissa if she hasn’t yet been located.”

  Anger rose at the man's gall to make light of their dilemma and only a glance at his weeping mother kept Eric from berating Mallory on the spot. He knew his friend, and he knew Mallory would not give up his purpose until Eric at least heard him out. Fisting his hands at his sides he growled, “into the study,” before marching out of the room.

  “Have out with it, Mallory.” He rounded on the man the moment they reached the study. “I have my own troubles to deal with.”

  “This evening,” Mallory began, “I was supposed to receive the final installment of instructions from Nathaniel Rothschild via Avery. He's going to the docks tonight, and we felt it wise for him to keep the final details of his route and timing secret until the final moment.”

  “I didn't receive anything today,” Eric interjected. Though he and Sarah planned to surprise their relatives, Eric made sure to send both Mallory and Avery notice of the trip.

  “I know. When I didn't hear from you, I sent a runner out. He found Avery beaten unconscious and in a heap in the alley in an alley, all his correspondence stolen.”

  Eric pressed his lips together and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

  “Eric, I have a general idea of where Rothschild will go, but without those final details, I'll have at least a mile of docks to search. I'll never be able to manage it alone. Come with me and help me tie up the loose ends. Between the two of us, we stand a chance. By myself, I don't know that I can keep the man alive.”

  “It's an unfortunate state of affairs, Mallory, but I—”

  A footman walked in, pausing to bow an apology before holding up a note for Eric. Eric nodded and held out his hand. Once the footman left, Mallory continued his tirade as though Eric hadn’t just received potentially important information.

  “I can't understand what changed, all the other correspondence came through without issue. Why now...”

  Eric diverted his attention to the note the moment he ripped open the seal and began scanning through the message.

  If you value your sister's life, you will ensure that no action is taken to spare Rothschild tonight.

  One sentence. One short sentence served to shatter Eric's entire world. Crumpling the letter in his fist, Eric began to shake. His vision clouded over in rage. “Rothschild,” he whispered.

  Mallory paused in his pacing to look at Eric. “What?”

  “Rothschild!” Eric shouted, then held up the crumpled note beneath Mallory's nose shaking it at him “This is your doing!” He was advancing on Mallory now, who had no option but to retreat in the face of his friend’s anger.

  “What are you talking about? What's my—”

  “Marissa,” Eric shouted, incapable of keeping a measured tone. They'd marched in their awkward pairing back through the doorway of the study and into the foyer. Eric’s shouting had caused his mother and Sarah to come running from the sitting room, only to pause in wide-eyed shock to see him in such a rage. “The men who are after Rothschild have Marissa! Who were you using as your London informant, Mallory?”

  Mallory stuttered and began to shake his head, verifying Eric’s suspicion.

  “There was no way they could have known—” Mallory began, then paused, and idea taking hold of him. “That girl, the niece. Durand called her back to London, didn't he? This was the only missive that missed its mark, and the only one sent since she's been here. She must've been snooping while she was at Heathermoore. He's been using her to—”

  Mallory didn't get a chance to complete his statement. Eric's fist came crashing into his jaw and sent him sprawling onto the parquet flooring. his mother and sister brought their hands up to the mouths but remained where they were, anxious glances darting between the two men.

  “Using her to gather information?” Eric hissed. “Like you've been using me? Like you've been using my sisters? I told you I wanted nothing to do with this. I told you to stay away from my family!”

  “Eric, I understand you're upset, but right now there are greater things in play. Once we've secured Rothschild, we can find a way to—”

  Eric grabbed Thomas by the collar and hefted him off the floor, allowing him no time to catch his balance before spinning him around toward the door. “Get out,” he growled as he reached for the door handle, “I don't care about Rothschild or whatever bloody plan you have in place. “Get out and don't ever show your face anywhere near me or my family again!” He shoved Thomas through the portal with enough force the man lost his footing and went tumbling down the front steps. Slamming the door, he turned and bellowed for his coat and hat. Ayanna ran up to him, grasping at his hands. “Where are you going?” She pleaded.

  “I'm going to find Marissa.”

  “Eric,” she brought her hands up to frame his face, forcing him to look at her. “Please, don't do anything foolhardy. Marissa is a sturdy girl, she'll be all right until we can find her.”

  Gently removing his mother's hands from his face, Eric took the coat and hat his butler offered and stormed out into the London night.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ERIC RAN UP THE STEPS of the Durand’s London residence, taking no care in his approach and observing nothing outside of his destination. In short, he behaved exactly as his mother warned him not to, but he didn't care. Something in him had snapped, and he honestly would not begrudge Durand a chance to shoot him on the spot. He took hold of the brass knocker, making use of that implement until he decided its small stature and range of motion didn't adequately convey the importance of his intent. Giving up the knocker, he proceeded to pound upon the door with his fist, until a startled Butler came and opened the door.

  Rushing past the man the instant the door swung open, Eric darted into the front entry and began shouting for Durand. Durand! Durand, you snake, where are you?!

  Within a few seconds every available footman in the house had surrounded Eric, and he reveled in the chance to attempt fighting his way through the ring. He sent hits flying, sent footman reeling back and sliding across the floor, but hardly noticed. All he knew was that he refused to be thrown out of the place before he had his answers.

  The world blurred in front of him, his reason telling him he would not find what sought for here, but it was the only place he knew to start so he had to try. Perhaps something else led him there, perhaps he needed something else, but he knew which sentiment he ought to put first, and that was the one his fevered, deranged mind attempted to use as justification for his actions.

  Onlookers would sa
y a devil took hold of him, either the literal devil or the one who'd been sulking inside of him, gnawing at him for years on end. But it was an angel who materialized in front of him, braving the fist he only just managed to hold before it came into contact with that familiar heart-shaped face, framed by brushed copper ringlets, and blue eyes staring up at him in a state of horror and anxiety.

  She caught hold of him, as his mother had, hands framing his face, but this time a calming warmth seeped through him, relaxing his muscles, draining his energy, and defeating him so thoroughly he crumpled into her arms, weeping like a child.

  His vision too blurred to see where she took him, he allowed her to lead him further into the home, to a side room where she made him sit while she shut the door. She darted back to him almost immediately, embracing him and showering him in heaven sent kisses. She kissed the tears from his cheeks, his eyes, the furrow from his brow, and ended with a kiss of such sweet sincerity to his lips, such a softness he felt he didn't deserve, he tightened his arms around her, fearing she might realize it and pull away.

  She broke the kiss and hugged him, her warm breath ruffling the hair at his temple and his ear, a silent purring thrumming through her throat and vibrating along his skin and bones where their faces met. She was saying something. She pulled back a moment later, taking his face in her hands again, observing him with teary eyes of her own.

  “Eric,” he watched her lips move, battling down the desire to taste that comforting sweetness again. Knowing he had to talk to her and find out where his sister might be. “Eric, thank goodness you're all right. I was so worried about you earlier today when my uncle left, so afraid he might do something to hurt you.”

  That caught Eric's attention. “Why would he want to harm me?” He asked, voice low.

  Eloise's eyes rounded slightly, and she ducked her chin. “Well I, I just—” she didn't seem to know how to complete the sentence.

  A coldness began to creep into Eric he stiffened and increased the distance between them, forcing his eyes to focus more clearly on her.

  “I know your uncle and Sir Thomas were at odds,” he hazarded. “But your uncle had no reason to give me a second look. Indeed, as far as I could tell, your uncle took the prevailing view of me, relegating me to something which ought to cause disgust and warrant no recognition whatsoever.”

  Eloise’s cheeks flushed and she began to fidget with her hands in her lap.

  “What reason would he have to cause me harm?” Eric reiterated, a tinge of something steely in his voice.

  “I,” Eloise began. She'd turned her face toward him, but still didn't look him in the eye. When she spoke, her words tumbled out in a flurry difficult for Eric to decipher. “He frightened me, tried to insist I tell him some information I had no idea about. I didn't know what he wanted from me. He sent me away, I was on my way out when he said something that confused me. I wasn't thinking, Eric I—”

  Eric caught her by the upper arms turning her full to face him. Her eyes flew open fright rampant in them. “What did you tell him?”

  “I,” she hesitated.

  He gave her a small shake. “What did you tell him?!”

  “He said something about Sir Thomas and a man named Avery, and I remembered seeing a letter with that name on your desk while I was waiting for you.”

  Eric let her go and stood, pacing toward the other end of the room. “You remembered?” He accused, turning back to see her response.

  “Yes, I remembered seeing the note and something addressed to Sir Thomas in it and had heard you complain about his mail coming to you that day when I went to get the ribbon.”

  The world tinted in shades of red again, but Eloise doesn't seem to notice his budding anger. “You remembered? Or you deliberately sought out that information?”

  There must have been something deadly in his tone, for she shrank back at his glare, eyes going wide and beginning to shake her head.

  “No! Eric, I didn't—”

  “You expect me to believe you? You think I haven’t realized by now your uncle purposely sent you to Heathermoore? And what a hardship assignment that must've been, Playing the coquette to a witless deaf man.”

  She began to shake her head and opened her mouth to respond, but he turned his back on her. “And fool that I am,” he murmured to himself, “I believed you innocent, despite everything.”

  Disgusted with himself for allowing himself to be so thoroughly blindsided he’d put the life of another one of his siblings at risk, Eric propped his elbows on the mantle and hung his head in his hands.

  Eloise darted up to him but when she tried to turn him, he grabbed hold of her before she could throw her arms around him, pinning them at her sides and holding her at arms distance. “Don't bother lying to me, there's no point anymore, your uncle got what he wanted.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the ability to respond failed her, leaving her with no recourse but to continue shaking her head in denial.

  “And now he's got my sister.”

  She looked up in surprise. “What? Oh, Eric I—”

  “And instead of heading to the docks to find her, I've been wasting my time here with you.” He growled through gritted teeth, pushing Eloise back as he released her and turned from her.

  ELOISE TREMBLED, STRUGGLING to catch her breath. She'd expected this, Eric had every reason to hate her. She betrayed him. He’d begun pacing like a caged animal, wanting an escape but unsure which direction to turn. He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched his fists. His entire body spoke of anguish, of pain and feeling trapped. And he blamed himself. Heart sinking, she tried to think. There must be some way to help him, some way to make this right.

  She turned in place, scanning the walls and tables as though they could offer some advice or information. Her gaze settled on the door to the hall, and she thought of her uncle’s study. Perhaps Eric could find something useful there. She darted over to him, but he turned away from her. A small flash of anger ran through her. He may be angry with her, he may never forgive her, but he would take what help she could offer now to repair his family.

  She grabbed hold of his sleeve and yanked, spinning him around with all the force she could muster. His face showed a brief look of shock as he turned to face her before falling again into his impenetrable mask of anger and distrust. He didn't have to trust her, he just had to listen to her.

  “Would you recognize a note from Avery if you saw it? Recognize its authenticity?” She looked up into his face, questioning.

  He stilled and begrudgingly looked into her face, thinking a moment before responding. Slowly he nodded. “Yes, it should be easy enough. I've been receiving notices and information from him long enough to know his hand.”

  “My uncle has left. He is not in the habit of keeping paperwork or information about his person. I always assumed it was because he didn't care to carry anything extra, but I suppose it also helps, if he ever gets caught in his work, not to have evidence about him. His study is down the hall she nodded toward the door.

  Eric followed her gaze, hesitating only a moment before hurrying down the hall. she followed behind him, racing to get ahead and show him to the correct room. She reached the door but, as expected, it was locked.

  Taking a look at the door, Eric motioned for her to step back as he put his shoulder to it. The door gave way from the frame, swinging into the room with a loud crack of shattered wood. Eric dashed inside, heading straight for the desk, but paused, sending a worried glance toward the fireplace.

  “If your uncle is a smart man, he would have burned any evidence.”

  Eloise moved around to stand in front of him, shaking her head. “I don't think so, he left in a great hurry this afternoon. I know there was a messenger who came to see him, and he left immediately on the heels of that man, calling for my aunt.”

  Eric looked uncertain but nodded and began tearing into the desk drawers. Within a matter of seconds, he paused at a note. Lifting it up to the light
then peering at the information written within. “This is it,” He stated, eyes beginning to wildly scan the missive. “Dock nine. He'll be at dock nine.”

  Eloise’s heart swelled, thankful her idea had led to something helpful.

  He crumpled the note, shoving it into his pocket as he prepared to race out the door, but paused beside the broken door, turning back to her with a look of uncertainty.

  “Eloise,” he began, but she shook her head mustering all her strength to smile at him.

  “Go find your sister.”

  He pressed his lips together but darted out the door without hesitation or a backward glance.

  Eloise stood for a long time staring at the door, then began inspecting the mess they had made of her uncle's desk.

  A messenger had come that afternoon, and her uncle had left in such haste he created a sense of foreboding in her. If he'd kidnapped Eric sister, and if anything went wrong tonight... something told her her aunt and uncle had abandoned her. They would not be coming back tonight, and she would be left to take the blame for her uncle's actions. Swallowing, she made her way to her uncle's desk, shoving aside documents and paperwork before rifling through the desk for a clean sheet of paper and a quill. Opening the inkwell, she dipped in the quill as an overwhelming sense of calm spread over her. She’d done what she could, she hoped Eric could one day forgive her, but there was one more person she had to speak to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE HIRED HACK COULDN’T move fast enough for Eric’s liking. Every minute dragged by, every glance out the window showed him no closer the docks than he had been the minute before. His leg bounced out an angry complaint at being forced to remain still, his palms wore down the wool of his trousers, and chewing his lip off before arriving at the docks remained a distinct possibility.