“Albert the Great?” The earl grinned, reminding Oliver once again of his daughter. “Brilliant man. An alchemist and the discoverer of the philosopher’s stone.”
Oliver sighed. While the romance of the medieval era appealed to him in many ways, he had difficulty aligning the many far-fetched tales with those of actual science. The challenge was that some who called themselves scholars truly believed in the possibility of alchemy and the philosopher’s stone—a mythical substance said to turn any metal into gold. Oliver did not. Such feats were impossible, no matter what sort of chemical or method was used.
But he had no desire to insult the old man because he wanted that book. “Yes, Albert the Great.”
“One of the most amazing minds that ever existed, don’t you think?”
Though Oliver dearly wanted to make an offer for the book and be gone, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. The Earl of Burnham was so eager to discuss the topic. Oliver resigned himself to spending some time sharing what he knew of the author. Perhaps that would aid his cause. “Indeed. He seems to have been an expert on everything from Aristotle to the physical sciences.”
“A well-rounded man, considering he lived in the thirteenth century.”
The discussion continued for several minutes as Oliver offered some of what he’d learned about the author thus far. Hoping the pleasantries were complete after nearly a quarter of an hour of conversation, Oliver leaned forward. “I happened upon your daughter in the bookshop yesterday when she came to collect De Animalibus.”
“Incredible find, isn’t it?” The lord gave a raspy chuckle. “My Julia has a knack for finding unusual books. She’s helped me build my entire collection. My wife died many years ago, so I fear I’d be lost without Julia.”
“Yes, she seemed quite...competent.” That was certainly not the word that initially came to mind. Beautiful. Lovely. He stopped before he listed words more personal, and therefore inappropriate than “competent.” Now was not the time to become distracted. “But as far as the book—”
“What is your interest in that specific text?”
“I’m hoping to find clues within it regarding the contents of another of his books.”
“Which one?”
“The Book of Secrets.”
“Fascinating. I’ve heard rumors of that text. It’s said to be filled with magic.” The light in the old man’s eyes was so bright that it threatened to blind Oliver. “I would be honored to work on such a project with you.”
Oliver blinked, trying to understand about what he was speaking. Maybe the elderly man wasn’t as sharp as Oliver had first thought. Never mind. It didn’t matter. He need only make his intent clear. “I appreciate your offer, but I would like to purchase De Animalibus from you. I’m pleased to offer double what you paid for it for any inconvenience.”
“Now then, where did I put my pen.” The earl ignored Oliver as he moved a sheet of paper to the center of his desk then searched in the depths of his drawer. “Here it is.” He triumphantly held up an old-fashioned quill pen, which he promptly dipped in an ink well. “For what sort of items should I be searching?”
Oliver stared in disbelief as the lord held his pen poised above the paper. “As I stated, I would like to purchase De Animalibus.”
“From what my Julia said, there is no other. I have the only copy.”
“Exactly. That is why I’d like to purchase yours.”
The old man frowned at Oliver as though he made no sense. His gaze shifted to a place over Oliver’s shoulder with a smile. “Ah, here is Julia now. She can tell us for certain as she spoke with the book dealer.”
Oliver smothered a groan. He didn’t think the lady would aid his cause. This meeting was not going according to his plan.
~*~
Julia entered her father’s library, intent on convincing him to rest, only to stop short when she realized he had a visitor. She approached slowly, staring at the visitor’s dark hair, which brushed his collar, suspiciously like—
No.
He wouldn’t dare.
Her mouth agape, she drew near her father to glare at Viscount Frost.
He rose almost reluctantly—or was it guiltily?—and his gaze met hers.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Julia, I understand you met Viscount Frost at the bookshop yesterday. Isn’t it delightful of him to pay me a visit?”
“Delightful,” she repeated, thinking it anything but. She held Frost’s gaze, trying to ignore the dip in her stomach at the sight of his deep green eyes.
“I have exciting news,” her father announced. “Viscount Frost has asked me to collaborate on a project with him.”
She turned to her father, prepared to explain why that was a terrible idea, only to halt at the look of joy on his face. When was the last time she’d seen that expression? “Oh?” was all she could manage.
“He is interested in De Animalibus, but I believe you said it was rare, that you’d only been able to locate the one copy.”
“Yes, only one.” She glared at the viscount once again. Couldn’t he see her father was not strong? Each illness from which he suffered continued to erode his health, setting him back a little further again and again. Inventing some project and inviting her father to share in it would only overtire him.
“I’m going to spend some time studying the text for clues.” The excitement in her father’s voice stopped any dissuasion from coming to her lips.
What on earth was the viscount about? A raised brow at him had him clearing his throat.
“Lord Burnham has kindly agreed to assist me in some research.”
“What sort of research?” She knew her tone was suspicious but after the way Frost had acted yesterday at the bookshop, she couldn’t understand what he was up to now. While some might accuse her of being overprotective, she didn’t care. She guarded her father closely.
“Nothing too difficult.” He glanced at her father. “But vitally important. Since I was not able to acquire De Animalibus, I am hoping your father could do some reading and note certain items of interest from the text.”
“What sort of things?” Her father had mentioned Viscount Frost was an expert in medieval texts. Why would he need her father’s help when he already had such skills?
“We were just about to make a list,” her father said eagerly. “Perhaps you’d ring for tea while we continue our work.”
The viscount offered her a bland smile if one could call that small curling of his lips a smile.
Julia had to shut her gaping jaw once again. She was being dismissed? After being the primary person to uplift her father’s spirits for nearly a decade, she was astounded that Viscount Frost had managed to do so with little effort. And slightly envious to be honest.
With one last glare at the viscount, she arranged for tea to be brought in, found additional paper for her father, and made certain he had all he needed.
Then she went up to her aunt’s room to discuss the matter, hoping she might be able to offer some advice.
Aunt Matilda, her father’s younger spinster sister, had come to live with them soon after Julia’s mother had died nearly twelve years earlier.
Losing her mother at the age of ten had been devastating. Though her parents’ marriage had been far from perfect, she hadn’t been prepared for the grief that had filled her father with her mother’s passing. Never mind that her mother had been riding at her lover’s country estate when her horse had thrown her. All of them did their best to ignore that part of the accident.
Her father loved her mother deeply, but unfortunately, her mother hadn’t returned that love. She had been a restless spirit, always flitting to the next party—or the next lover—searching for elusive happiness.
Julia worked hard to make certain she didn’t share her mother’s characteristics. While bouts of restlessness sometimes plagued her, they were easily overcome. Surely she was capable of happiness and love. She just hadn’t yet found them. Beside
s, there was little time for such things in her life, not when she had her father to care for.
The depression and subsequent illnesses from which he suffered frightened Julia, and she did all in her power to keep him happy. That required her constant presence and diligence each and every day. Her younger brother, Jonathan, had finished university the previous year and was traveling abroad, which left the burden of her father to Julia and her aunt.
To think that Viscount Frost had found something so enjoyable for her father without even trying was a bit disheartening.
Aunt Matilda was helpful though the odd notions she came up with often frustrated Julia. Last month, she’d taken to meditation with incense to “help her transcend.” Her room still reeked of the nasty stuff. She’d tried to get Julia’s father to participate, but he’d refused, insisting he didn’t want to transcend. Julia was relieved as she feared he’d somehow turn the experience into a way to contact his wife in the afterlife, a popular diversion of late.
Julia knocked on her bedroom door, waiting for an answer. It was never wise to interrupt Aunt Matilda. Heaven only knew what her current interest was.
“Come in.”
Opening the door, Julia searched the large room currently draped in purple silk, making it look like a harem. Her aunt was difficult to spot as she wore the color as well. She sat on the floor on a large purple pillow with gold tassels. Her thick, grey hair was piled elegantly on her head, her posture perfect. Her warm brown eyes always held a look of amusement as though nothing life threw at her could unsettle her. A book lay open on her lap. New meditation material, no doubt.
While Julia liked to think her aunt eccentric, she sometimes wondered if it was more than that. Her logic, or lack thereof, was difficult to follow on good days and impossible at other times. Hopefully today she’d provide true assistance.
“Viscount Frost is visiting with Father,” Julia said as she took a seat on one of the other large pillows.
Her aunt’s eyes narrowed as though trying to place the name. “The medieval scholar viscount?”
“Yes. I encountered him in the bookshop yesterday. Apparently, the book I picked up for father had also been promised to him.”
“Is he here to make trouble?” She braced her hands on the pillow as though prepared to launch a rescue.
“I’m not certain.” Julia scowled, still not sure what to make of his visit. “He’s asked Father to assist him with some research.”
“What sort of research?”
“It has to do with the book I brought home yesterday.”
“That sounds harmless. Your father must be delighted at the idea of working with a scholar who has such an excellent reputation.”
Julia couldn’t help but sigh. “He is.”
“It’s rather kind of the viscount.”
“I don’t think he’s doing it out of kindness.”
“Perhaps his motivation isn’t important. The benefit of giving your father a purpose can’t be denied.”
The gentle reminder had Julia shaking her head at her uncharitable thoughts. “You’re right. But I intend to make certain the viscount understands father’s fragile state. I don’t want him overtaxed.”
“Excellent idea.” She raised a brow as she stared at Julia. “Shouldn’t you go down and attempt to catch him as he’s leaving?”
“Oh, yes. I suppose so. They’re having tea as they discuss their plans, but I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to speak with him.” In truth, she was reluctant to be alone with Viscount Frost. He unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. There was no doubt that he was an intimidating man due to his size and military bearing. But those weren’t the sole reasons for her discomfort. Still, she rose reluctantly from the pillow. “Would you care to join me?”
“No, thank you. I’m quite engrossed in my reading.” She held up her book. “Don’t forget to smile. Never underestimate your ability to charm others.”
Though her aunt’s suggestion had been proven helpful many times over the years, the viscount seemed unmoved by her friendly overtures. “I don’t want to charm him. I only want to keep him from hurting Father.”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to manage both.”
Julia wasn’t so certain. Viscount Frost seemed as though he was charm-proof yet what other way did she have to convince him to take care when dealing with her father?
CHAPTER THREE
“...a human bird of prey, in short, [is] bound to a desperate pursuit of that terrible course of life into which vice or misfortune originally casts him; a wily, cunning man-wolf, constantly on the watch, seeking whom he may devour.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver bid good day to Lord Burnham, feeling ten times more frustrated than when he’d arrived. How he’d managed to shift from buying the book to suggesting topics the lord should search for annoyed him to no end. Why had he agreed to such a course of action? He had no answer other than sympathy for the old man and an inability to take away his obvious pleasure at the task.
He’d gone so far as to ask to see De Animalibus so he could peruse a few pages of the text himself but had been told it was upstairs in Burnham’s bedroom. No matter how many hints Oliver made, the earl hadn’t offered to send anyone after it.
Oliver closed the library door, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Yet what choice did he have? He needed to know what was in that book. After careful consideration, he’d decided against telling Lord Burnham the entire tale of why he was so interested. That might prove more than the man could handle in his present state since he was still obviously recovering from an illness.
Though he should’ve flat out told the lord he wasn’t interested in working with him, Oliver hadn’t found the heart to do so. Not when Burnham had been so delighted at the prospect. Oliver wondered if he’d end up in a similar state if he continued his reclusive ways, thrilled if someone chose to call upon him.
Then again, his days locked in his home may have already come to an end. He’d ventured out twice in the last two days. That was hardly the behavior of a recluse. No matter that he looked forward to returning home more than he could say.
“Viscount Frost?”
He paused in the foyer at the lilting tone and turned to see Lady Julia standing in the doorway of the drawing room.
“I wonder if I might have a few minutes of your time?” she asked, bestowing that charming smile of hers.
He scowled in response. The less time he spent in her company, the better. Somehow he knew his sanity depended on it. He was certain Lady Julia had the power to upset his already imbalanced life.
“Of course,” he managed with as much civility as he could muster.
She gestured for him to come into the drawing room and eased the door partially closed behind him. He had to surmise she didn’t want her father to overhear their conversation. He braced himself for the berating he was certain would be forthcoming.
Today her gown was a pale blue shade that made her eyes appear even brighter than yesterday. Her hair was swept back in a looser chignon, leaving several strands to frame her face. Her lilac fragrance teased him as her presence drew him closer.
“Needless to say, I was surprised to find you visiting with my father.” She looked up at him from under the long sweep of her lashes.
“As was I,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was merely saying that I decided a call on him might be worthwhile.”
“You mean you hoped he’d give you the book.”
The lady had more spine that her angelic appearance suggested.
“Indeed. I offered him twice what he paid for it, but he didn’t want to sell it.” Though Burnham hadn’t actually said no, he’d merely avoided responding to the offer. Oliver still wasn’t certain how his simple request had gotten so twisted.
“He has a great fondness for books.”
“As do I.” Oliver studied her. Perhaps all was not lost. Not if he could convince La
dy Julia to speak with her father on his behalf. “I truly need that text. Would it be possible for me to borrow it for a few weeks? I’d be happy to pay for the use of it.”
“That would be up to my father.”
“He didn’t seem open to the idea.” Lord knew Oliver had tried.
“Perhaps he will be able to save you some time on whatever you’re searching for within its pages.”
“Humph.” It was difficult to tell anyone what to look for when he didn’t know himself.
“I wanted to advise you that he is often ill. I wouldn’t want this project to become too much for him.”
Oliver stepped closer as his frustration flared. “Then convince him to sell me the book.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s very excited by the idea of working with you. Convincing him to either sell you the book or allow you to borrow it would take that away.”
“You don’t want me to tire him yet you won’t help me obtain the book?” He hoped she realized how ridiculous she was being.
Her chin rose, making him see he wasn’t convincing her to see his side of the situation. “Avoiding overtaxing him shouldn’t be that difficult. Surely there’s no rush for the information you seek.”
Anger sparked within Oliver. “I would have you know that this project might be a matter of life or death. It is not merely some hobby in which I am indulging.”
“How can some dusty old book help save a life?”
He ran a hand through his hair as he considered his options. Did he dare risk explaining the situation? Yet he was certain she held sway over her father. If she were more sympathetic to Oliver’s plight, she’d be more inclined to help.
Still he hesitated. This was a dangerous situation. Jasper Smithby was a daring man who’d been far too successful in his many illegal ventures thus far. Oliver didn’t want to risk placing the earl or his daughter in harm’s way. But he had no reason to believe his existence had gained Smithby’s attention. Therefore it was safe to assume any conversation he had with Lady Julia wouldn’t either.
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