Love Conquers All: Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She raised a brow at his surprised expression, wondering what she’d said to concern him so.

  He shifted to face her fully, taking her hand in his. “That is exactly it. That is how I feel when I’m able to translate a particularly difficult text. I don’t think anyone has understood or explained it quite so well before.”

  “Oh.” She put her hand over his, enjoying his touch once more. “I truly appreciate how it must feel each time you do so. What draws you to that period of history?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question many times before. I suppose I admire the code of chivalry. The apparent order of society. Though I’m certain the books I’ve studied oversimplify it compared to what life was actually like then.”

  They discussed the subject at length, barely pausing as a footman delivered tea and sandwiches. To her surprise, Oliver filled a plate for her, placing far more on it than she would’ve. After nearly half an hour of discussion, she glanced down at her plate to find it empty. Had she truly eaten all that food? “More tea?” she asked Oliver.

  At his nod, she poured as he placed another biscuit on her plate.

  “Oh, please, no more. I’m full to the brim,” she said with a laugh.

  “You couldn’t be. You obviously haven’t bothered to eat since your father fell ill. That leaves you much to make up for.”

  Her chest tightened at the idea of someone worrying over her.

  “And I’ve missed your smile,” he added, his quiet tone adding to the statement. Her gaze held his as he continued, “I miss the light it brings to your eyes.”

  She hardly knew what to say, not when his words filled her heart as surely as their tea had filled her stomach. What was she to do with this man? He was such a contradictory mix of emotions. She never knew what to expect. She liked him, she realized, and not just because of the elemental attraction she felt. It was far more than that. Which concerned her to no end.

  ~*~

  The next morning, Oliver was less than surprised to see Hawke enter his library well before normal visiting hours. The way his friend strode forward, despite his limp and the cane that aided him, Oliver could tell he had news.

  “Good day to you,” Oliver greeted, certain the attempt at pleasantries would annoy his impatient friend to no end.

  “We’ve no time for that,” Hawke said with a wave of his hand. “I have a lead on a possible location for Smithby’s warehouse.”

  Oliver rose, pleased to hear it. “Where?”

  “By the docks, near the area your lad mentioned.”

  “Did this information come from the police?”

  “No. They can’t seem to make progress on the case unless I hand it to them. Even then it’s not a certainty. Langston came across one of Smithby’s men last night at a pub and followed him to this location.”

  Oliver had met Robert Langston once before. The man was a former police officer who’d grown tired of the bureaucracy, and in many cases, the dishonesty, of some of his superiors and decided he could do more good without the limitations of the law holding him back. But he had enough knowledge of such matters to work around them. From what Hawke had said, he’d been most helpful.

  “I assume we’re going to have a look for ourselves?” Oliver asked as he followed Hawke out the door.

  “Yes. I would like to observe the place for a time myself to make certain it’s a lead worth turning over to the police. I can’t help but wonder if watching it might lead us to Smithby’s other locations.”

  Oliver nodded, more than ready to have a look. He dearly wanted to find Smithby’s headquarters with the hope the man would have The Book of Secrets there. Leaving such a valuable text in the hands of the police should they manage to raid the place seemed a sure way for the book to become lost.

  That was not a risk he was willing to take.

  They took Hawke’s carriage to the vicinity not far from the docks, leaving it to continue on foot. Oliver had Tubbs come along in case they needed an extra man. Though he was quite certain he couldn’t have convinced his footman to remain behind even if he’d tried.

  The carriage drew to a halt and Tubbs opened the door, his gaze immediately seeking Oliver’s as though to gauge his demeanor. Tubbs’ watchful regard steadied him, and he alighted from the carriage with only momentary hesitation.

  “I told Langston to take the rest of the day off,” Hawke said. “He’s been working far too hard on this already. He has young children at home.”

  It was amazing how that changed priorities. “Not long and you’ll have the same reason to stay out of trouble.”

  Hawke’s expression softened, and a smile graced his lips. “Perhaps I will. One can hope.”

  Oliver shook his head in amazement at the change in his friend. Remarkable. “What is our plan?” He glanced down at his clothes, then at Hawke’s. “Neither of us appear to be dressed for the occasion.”

  “We’ll keep our distance. I only want to watch who’s coming in and out. Perhaps there’s a shop from where we can watch.”

  He nodded, pleased at Hawke’s caution. Observing was a recently learned skill for him. During his time in the Navy, he’d have charged in with weapons drawn. Oliver didn’t care for that approach if it could be avoided. At times, more could be gained from knowledge than action.

  As they neared the docks with Tubbs trailing behind them, the busyness of the streets soaked into Oliver’s awareness. Between the people walking along, the clatter of wagons and carts loaded with goods, horses, and all else, the scene was complete chaos. His anxiety level increased as they continued.

  “Is all well?” Hawke asked, his voice sounding hollow to Oliver’s ears.

  “Fine,” he gritted out, focusing on drawing one slow breath after another despite the unpleasant smell.

  “I beg to differ.”

  Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the feeling of panic threatening him. “I still seem to suffer from some nervousness when in crowds.”

  “I’d remind you that many soldiers have the same issue. Anything from loud noises to crowds tend to bring on a feeling of unease. After being in battle, who wouldn’t be affected by those?”

  He studied his friend more closely. “Does it bother you as well?”

  “While it makes me uncomfortable, I don’t have the same level of physical symptoms others do.” He patted his thigh. “Perhaps that’s because I have other problems. One can only be burdened with so much, eh?”

  Oliver immediately felt guilty. How ridiculous of him to be concerned with his mild issues when Hawke would never recover from his injury.

  “No,” Hawke said emphatically.

  “No, what?” he asked, confused by both the word and the tone.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking. No, that does not make one worse than the other. Nearly everyone suffers in some way after being through a difficult situation, especially if it’s life threatening.”

  Somehow the idea that he wasn’t alone in his problem made it easier to bear. Not that he wished the anxiety on anyone but the knowledge changed how he thought about it and himself.

  “Let me know if it all becomes too much,” Hawke said as he paused to glance up and down the street as though to get his bearings. “I will assist you in any way I can.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Oliver hoped it was true, that he had the strength of will to hold down his unease. He kept his attention on following Hawke down the crowded street, knowing Tubbs was directly behind.

  Hawke seemed to understand that Oliver appreciated him serving as a knife to cut through the swath of people. Oliver steeled himself as they continued, doing his best to ignore the crowded streets around him.

  A deep breath to steady himself only brought forth the stench of the docks. From the briny scent of the air to the smoke from the tar and candle factories to the scent of the biscuit baker’s, it all swirled together into an unpleasant odor that had him wrinkling his nose.

  “I think it’s near.” Hawke studied the bui
ldings. “Langston said it was close to this corner. There it is.” He pointed to a two-story red brick building. At least it used to be red. Now it was soot-covered with only a hint of red remaining.

  “Are you certain?” Oliver noted the grime-coated windows, which looked as if they hadn’t been opened in years. The large, wooden double doors were filthy as well. “It looks abandoned.”

  “This is the one. With luck, we’ll know soon enough.”

  Oliver turned to see Tubbs had already managed to blend into his surroundings. He’d retrieved a newspaper someone had tossed away and now leaned against a building, pretending to read it as he watched over the top of the pages.

  “We should bring him with us more often,” Hawke said as he observed Tubbs.

  “Two well-dressed men and their footman standing about would’ve drawn far too much attention. Now that he’s more or less hidden, what would you suggest for us?”

  “Let us walk a bit farther before we find a post.”

  They found a place where they could step out of the way, next to a building. Loitering there shouldn’t draw too much interest but allowed them to see the warehouse.

  After an hour passed, Hawke began to lean heavily on his cane. Oliver could only imagine how much his leg was bothering him.

  “Need a rest?” Oliver asked. “I can watch for a time.”

  Hawke sighed, bending down to rub his thigh. “The blasted thing tightens up if I stand for too long. It does far better if I’m moving.”

  “I suppose walking up and down with that cane of yours would gather notice.”

  “Wouldn’t want to take the risk. Not with my limp.”

  Oliver didn’t bother mentioning that many gentlemen carried a cane these days. At times Hawke’s limp was hardly noticeable but today was obviously not a good day.

  “Ah, here we are,” Hawke said as he watched over Oliver’s shoulder. “In a moment or two, look at the man with the brown bowler hat.”

  He waited then turned as though glancing about and caught sight of the man to which Hawke had referred. “Seen him before?”

  “On two different occasions. I’m certain he works for Smithby.”

  They took turns watching him, pleased when he paused to knock on the warehouse door. Another man opened the door from within, stepped outside to glance up and down the street before allowing the other man admittance.

  One look at Hawke’s pale face had Oliver studying the men more closely to see what had upset his friend. He didn’t recognize either of them, but obviously Hawke did. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

  “Hawke? What is it?”

  “I cannot believe it.” Hawke’s gaze continued to follow the man who was waiting at the door of the warehouse.

  “What?” Oliver studied the man but still didn’t understand Hawke’s astonishment.

  “Culbert Rutter.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “It is somewhat difficult to avoid a feeling of exasperation when, as an honest man, and one who finds it at times a sore pinch to pay rates and taxes, one contemplates the ugly, hopeless picture.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Oliver stared at the man lingering in the doorway of the warehouse across the street, certain Hawke was mistaken. “Unbelievable.”

  Hawke turned to meet Oliver’s gaze, his frown far less worrisome than the shocked expression he’d worn moments ago. “Yet there he is. How?”

  “Smithby must’ve discovered something in The Book of Secrets that shared a way to make Rutter appear dead.”

  “Dead enough to fool a doctor?” Hawke asked, his tone full of disbelief.

  “The book is said to offer unique properties of herbs and rocks. Perhaps it included a way to slow Rutter’s heartbeat.”

  “No wonder rumors of Smithby and his abilities have spread.” Hawke turned away as though unable to bear watching Rutter. “Imagine what the papers might’ve reported if we hadn’t intervened. I’d hazard a guess Smithby would’ve found a way to leak that it was his dark power that killed Rutter.”

  “Why not claim he managed to raise him from the dead?” Oliver wondered.

  “The police would be searching high and low for Rutter, which wouldn’t be in Smithby’s best interest.”

  “True enough.” Oliver didn’t bother to hide his frustration. “I need that book. It’s giving Smithby far too much power. While written in medieval times, it obviously contains some fascinating information.”

  As they watched, the door opened wider, and the back-from-the-dead Rutter followed the new arrival inside, both disappearing from sight.

  Hawke shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve given Smithby enough credit. How could he know the correct dosage needed to make such a treatment work? He could’ve easily killed Rutter.”

  “It must be noted in the book. Anticipating Smithby’s next move would be far easier if we knew what else the text contained.”

  “But we’d still be guessing how Smithby intends to use such knowledge.” Hawke scowled. “I suppose the important point is that we know Rutter is alive, that he’s working with Smithby, and we now have the location of one of Smithby’s warehouses.”

  “I want in there.” Oliver stared at the door, unable to put aside the notion that the book was only a few feet from his reach.

  “That’s a terrible idea.” Hawke shook his head. “Who knows what we’d be walking into?”

  “Do you have a better one?”

  “There are only three of us.” He glanced to where Tubbs still stood. “We don’t know how many of Smithby’s men are in there. Or if Smithby is.”

  “But the book might be.” Oliver could almost picture it sitting on a table in the warehouse. “I could go in first.”

  “Are you crazed?” Hawke grabbed his arm as though fearing he’d attempt it this very moment.

  “No. I don’t believe so,” he said reluctantly. Yet the temptation to unleash his anger filled him, to allow the dark rage to take over as it seemed to make him undefeatable.

  He couldn’t decide if it was frustration or an instinct to proceed that gave him the urge. Until he knew for certain, he couldn’t risk it. He knew his friend well enough to know Hawke would follow him inside, as would Tubbs. And Oliver refused to do anything that might put either man in danger.

  Suddenly an image of Julia came to mind, and the desire to take action faded. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “We should proceed logically,” he agreed. “We’ll watch for a while longer and see what occurs.”

  Hawke studied him as though trying to understand what was going through his mind. Oliver couldn’t tell him as he wasn’t certain himself.

  “I’ll advise Tubbs to follow anyone who leaves the warehouse and pay special attention if he sees Rutter leave. Hopefully, he had a good look at him.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  Oliver walked toward Tubbs as though he had all the time in the world, not wanting to hurry as it might draw notice.

  “For a moment I worried you were going in there,” Tubbs said before Oliver could say a word.

  “I considered it,” Oliver admitted.

  “Do you sense something?” Tubbs knew of Oliver’s instincts and trusted them.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Lady Julia would not be pleased if she knew you considered such a risk.”

  Oliver’s stomach twisted as he stared at him. Did Tubbs see how much she meant to him? Even more curious, did he think Oliver mattered to her?

  Now was not the time to question any of that. His focus needed to remain on the situation, not his growing fascination with Julia. Even as something deep inside him shifted, he told himself that she would only distract him. Thoughts of her made it difficult to consider taking the same risks he’d taken during his days in the Navy.

  Shaking his head, he updated Tubbs on the plan. Tubbs had gotten a good look at Rutter and promised to watch for him as well as any others who emerged. He’d follow anyone who left the building then rep
ort back to Oliver.

  “Do not take any unnecessary risks,” Oliver ordered.

  “Of course not, my lord.”

  Oliver held the footman’s gaze, knowing he was lying. “I need you, Tubbs. Be safe.”

  The large man offered a smile. “I’ll take extra care if you will.” He glanced over Oliver’s shoulder. “There goes someone now.” With a nod at Oliver, he was off.

  Oliver was relieved it wasn’t Rutter who’d left, but some other man. Rutter seemed far too slippery to expect Tubbs to follow. The thief had slipped away from the police many times and knew more tricks than Tubbs did.

  He returned to where Hawke waited. “What do you think is in the warehouse?”

  “Probably more goods like the ones found in Porter’s shop,” Hawke surmised.

  “But no young girls he hopes to sell to brothels?” The illegal goods were bad enough, but the idea of the girls being drugged then stuffed in a brothel for the rest of their lives was intolerable.

  “We haven’t seen any evidence of girls being taken of late. Hopefully, we’ve put an end to Smithby’s part in that business.”

  Oliver nodded, aware Hawke had been monitoring the workhouses for signs of missing girls. “Hopefully our effort to spread a word of warning among potential customers of the brothels specializing in virgins has curtailed those activities.”

  “Malverson hasn’t made an appearance at the brothels of late, according to my source. Perhaps you frightened him off when you caught him in the garden with Lady Julia.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Anger flooded Oliver at the mere mention of Malverson.

  Hawke frowned. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him at any events since your altercation.”

  “I’m certain he’ll crawl out of whatever hole he’s in soon enough. We won’t be rid of him so easily.” Oliver felt that down to his bones. “Ah. Another man is leaving the warehouse. Shall I follow him or would you prefer to?”

  “I’ll remain here to see if Rutter or Smithby emerge. Let me know what you discover.”

  “Of course.” Oliver allowed the man to gain a short lead before following, relieved they at least had one of Smithby’s locations now. Surely before long, they’d be able to find Smithby and The Book of Secrets.