Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1)

by Tracey Devlyn

  Cameron nodded his agreement, then shared a tome full of information in the glance he directed at Jules. With a small smile playing across his lips, Jules tilted his head in acknowledgment and offered Charlotte a hand up. She tried not to speculate on what silent communication had just passed between the two men. But her active mind came up with a half dozen different conversations in the space of three seconds.

  “I—I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Hermann said, trying to pull away from Cameron’s grasp. “Have an important appointment I must attend.”

  Cameron’s arm contracted around the other man’s throat. “This won’t take long.” His focus shifted to Charlotte. “I’ll check in on you later, Mrs. Fielding.”

  “Mr. Adair,” she began, feeling as though she should soften the set down Cameron was about to deliver. “Perhaps it would be best—”

  “Mrs. Fielding, please let me hand you into the carriage,” Jules interrupted, taking her hand and all but pushing her inside the cab.

  The hansom lurched forward. Charlotte stared at the curtained window, straining to hear raised masculine voices or indications of fisticuffs. Only silence spoke to her—that, and Jules’s circumspect look as he watched her reaction to all that had just occurred.

  # # #

  “Do you think it’s safe to leave them alone together?” Charlotte asked.

  Jules settled into the squabs and folded his hands over his flat stomach as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “No need to worry about Adair. Men whose only power comes from harassing women are no match for our friend.”

  “Cameron’s welfare isn’t what has me concerned.”

  Jules’s lips twitched. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be in…”

  “Lawrence Hermann,” she supplied. “He’s an assistant at the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries.” At Jules’s blank stare, she clarified. “An organization that’s vitally important to my livelihood.”

  “Ah, I see. Hermann. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes at the moment.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Because I wasn’t trying to. Please tell me you’re not wasting good sympathy on such a man. He’s not worth a thought, let alone any tender concerns for his well-being.”

  “No matter how awful a person he is, I’m not interested in having anyone get hurt on my account.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, Charlotte, but such naïve thinking is a disservice not only to you, but others of your sex. Hermann’s a cannon with a lit fuse. It’s only a matter of time before he explodes and hurts someone.”

  “How can you know that? You’ve barely spent five minutes in his company.”

  “Adair and I both caught the last part of your exchange with him and noted his reaction to your fighting back.” He paused to grin at her. “Which, by the way, was quite masterful. Hermann clearly believes himself to be superior to women and needs a lesson in manners before he injures someone—if he hasn’t already.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about the assistant harassing other women. She’d assumed his animosity was directed solely at her for invading his male domain.

  “I’ve never seen Cameron so furious.”

  “I’ve seen him even more so.” His voice grew solemn. “He didn’t take your leaving well.”

  Nor did I.

  She peered down at her gloved hands. “I never meant for things to go so wrong. I’m not even in a position to understand how they did.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Would it matter if I did?”

  “Likely not.” His twinkling eyes assessed her a moment. “Did you think Adair would remain in London, cooling his heels, while you journeyed to Scotland for five years?”

  “No, never. A woman like me does not hold the attention of a man like Cameron for long.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I can’t think of any woman who would.”

  “Then why did you leave him? He nearly went mad with the depth of his anger and resentment.”

  Regret stung the backs of her eyes. She tilted her head back to rest against the cabin wall, hoping against hope the tears would not fall. “Because my parents had gone to great lengths to give their only child an opportunity to work with the renowned apothecary-surgeon Angus Buchanan.”

  “They could not find an apothecary-surgeon in London who would take you under his wing?”

  “No.” She couldn’t keep the sadness from her voice. “You might not have noticed, Jules, but there is a dearth of female apothecaries in our fair city. Scotland, especially Edinburgh, has made its mark on the world through its many medical innovations. Accepting a female apprentice in the field is another way the Scots have proven themselves more open-minded than the English.” She chuckled. “Good thing my friend Lachlan Murdoch isn’t nearby. He would never let me forget that praise of his countrymen.”

  Jules was silent a moment. “By dearth, I assume you mean nonexistent.”

  “Yes. If it were up to Hermann, there would be no female apothecaries allowed within a league of the hallowed walls of Apothecaries Hall.”

  “After today, I suspect you won’t ever be bothered by him again.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She too became thoughtful. “There are moments when I look back on that fatal conversation with Cameron and think I was either the most courageous young woman who ever lived, or the most foolish.”

  “Forgive me for saying so,” Jules said. “But most parents tend to secure their daughter’s future by marrying them off. Your parents chose a most unconventional path for you. I wonder… Why?”

  Beneath Jules’s question lurked another, more evocative, inquiry. A question she instinctively knew he would have the answer for. And that terrified her a little.

  Not in the mood for playing word games, Charlotte clasped her hands together and impaled her friend with one of her no-nonsense stares. “I’m a miserable opponent when it comes to chess. All those rules, all those stratagems. All that puttering this way and that way. My sport of choice—if I were to indulge in such things—would be archery. Aim. Shoot. Score. Straightforward and to the point.”

  Jules produced a genuine, appreciative smile. “Allow me to rephrase my question, then. Did you know your father paid Adair a visit a few days before you announced your intention to spend five years in Scotland?”

  Charlotte searched through years of memories and came up blank. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall with any certainty one way or the other.”

  “According to Adair, he did. A fortnight later, you were making your way up the Great North Road.”

  Her pulse slowed, became sluggish. “Did he tell you what my father discussed with him?”

  “He asked Adair to leave you be.”

  Ice cracked somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. Images from the past flooded her mind. Her mother making a point of introducing her to well-situated young men. Her father commenting on Cameron’s lack of prospects. Both of them voicing concern about Cameron’s wild ways.

  “My parents were certainly worried about Cameron’s ability to support a family. But never once did they prevent me from seeing him.”

  “Some parents have a natural ability to know how far to push their children to achieve the result they desire. Others ignore the warning signs and actually throw their children into all-out rebellion.”

  “Cameron’s wildness made me feel alive, though it also scared me; I suspected I would not be interesting enough to hold his attention for long. Still, I was willing to grasp whatever time he gave me and be thankful for it.” She sent Jules a self-deprecating smile. “Pathetic, yes?”

  “Precious, more like. If you had such strong feelings for him, why choose Scotland?”

  “I didn’t choose Scotland.”

  He lifted a brow.

  “I didn’t,” she insisted. “I asked him to come with me. He hadn’t yet established a career in London at that point. So I thought he would find the notion of going to Scotland exci
ting. Unlike me, who found the idea terrifying.”

  “True.” A new note of awareness entered Jules’s voice. “Of the three of us, Cameron was always the most adventurous. How did he react to your proposition?”

  “He was upset. Accused me of being naïve, which I didn’t understand at the time, though now his accusations make more sense.”

  “Then what?”

  “He countered my suggestion with an ultimatum. One I didn’t take well.”

  “Care to share?”

  Oh, she cared. Very much. But she had revealed every other sordid part of their story to Jules. Why stop now?

  “The two options he gave me were quite straightforward, actually. Stay and marry him, or leave and no marriage. Ever.”

  Jules nodded slowly; his brilliant mind analyzing and connecting the pieces of the worst time in her life. “Adair must have figured you were in league with your parents and only offered the Scotland option as a means to bypass your parents’ intention of separating the two of you.” He reflected a moment. “I could see him comparing the situation to the lot of a courtesan. Keep her safely hidden away from family and friends, bringing her out only when you wanted to play.”

  “Jules! You can’t be serious.”

  In answer, he again raised a brow. She was beginning to dislike that particular mode of communication. All the same, she thought hard about what he’d said, trying to see the situation from Cameron’s perspective, especially given her father’s interference. The answer caused her to have an immediate physical reaction.

  “Oh my God,” she said. The delicious food she had consumed at Jules’s hotel soured in her stomach, making it heave like a ship trapped inside a typhoon. “Despite appearances, how could he believe I would do such a thing?”

  “When a gentleman’s pride is damaged and logic has vanished, he’ll act on raw, emotional instinct.”

  Hadn’t she said as much to Piper the other day? About how fragile men were? Except then, she had been talking about an entirely different sort of male pride.

  All this time, Charlotte had believed Cameron had been upset by her desire to work, rather than dedicate her existence to caring for him and the home and the family they would eventually create together.

  The idea of a traditional marriage was as foreign to her—as a woman working outside the household—as it was comforting to those who lived and breathed by society’s conventions and by a firm belief in the traditional roles of the husband and wife within a marriage.

  Charlotte was the fifth generation of female healers in her family. Women who were not content with simply raising a family. Women driven by an inner need to help others.

  Rubbing the center of her forehead, she released a long shaky sigh. “Five years, Jules. Five years scarred by false notions and unrelenting pain. Five years lost to anger, tears, and a terrible resentment.” Five lonely, heartbreaking years.

  He crossed over to Charlotte’s side of the carriage and pulled her into his arms. Immediately, the sting of tears became overwhelming and she crumpled. Sobs rocked her body and she grew limp and, finally, silent. A handkerchief materialized in front of her gritty eyes. She tried to sit up, but he held tight, gentling her with calm shushing noises.

  She allowed herself to draw on her friend’s strength, inhaling his musky, slightly exotic scent and taking comfort from his masculine warmth. After several minutes she straightened, and this time he let her go. “Thank you.”

  “My shoulder is always available.” He returned to his side of the carriage to give her room to right herself. “You should tell him.”

  “As much as I’m sorry for what happened, I don’t think it wise to try and rekindle what we once had. The best I can hope for now is a return of our friendship.” Based on their previous encounters, she didn’t think even that had much of a chance.

  “Why would it be unwise?”

  “Because we’ve both moved on. Have our own lives. Changed in irrevocable ways.”

  He bumped his knee against hers. Something he used to do when they were gangly, mop-haired children. “Do you still love him?”

  More than she thought possible, given all that had transpired between them. Yet her heart remembered too clearly the torment of losing him. She would never survive that kind of devastation again.

  “I don’t—”

  Jules held up a hand. “I should never have asked the question, for I already know the answer.” He shook his head in exasperation. “How did I manage to befriend the two most stubborn people in London?”

  Eyes narrowing, she said, “I’m trying to be practical about this untenable situation.”

  “If you wish to be truly happy again, I recommend you take all your practicality and self-sacrifice and pour it down the nearest privy.” He ignored her sputtered protest. “Only then will you—and the rest of us—enjoy any peace and quiet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rather than take a hansom to Charley’s, Adair walked—or limped—the distance. Almost an hour later, and his bloodlust had only now begun to cool. By slow degrees, his body registered the fire eating away at his shoulder and the pressure pounding in his thigh. Charley wouldn’t be pleased if he had wrecked her handiwork.

  Hermann’s vulgar words replayed in Adair’s thoughts like an annoying melody one could not strike from one’s mind. But worse than Hermann’s unforgivable words was the image of Charley’s stricken features when the bastard had called her a whore.

  Although she had recovered quickly from the shock, Adair didn’t believe he would ever be able to scour the sight from his mind’s eyes. But he and Charley would not be the only ones to suffer from today’s macabre display of humanity.

  He had made sure Hermann would not soon forget how to treat a lady, nor would he fail to remember Adair’s name. If Hermann so much as breathed the same air as Charley again, the bastard would suffer the consequences, and Adair relished the idea of meting them out.

  A part of him hoped the man would fail, but the more reasonable side of his nature never wanted Charley to see the woman hater again. It had taken very little coaxing to learn the root of Hermann’s outburst. Somewhere along the way, the Society assistant had lost his ability for rational thought. He attributed most of society’s failures to the influence of women. A laughable notion, given that much of society was ruled by men.

  The slow approach of a carriage broke through his reverie. Adair’s elbow sought the reassuring presence of the knife he kept secured at his waist before pivoting toward the sound. Once the carriage drew up even with him, Jules’s amused countenance appeared in the window.

  “I’m glad to see you walking about and not in shackles for murdering Hermann, no matter how much the idiot fool deserved such an ending.”

  “Where’s Charley?”

  “Safety tucked inside her shop, behind locked doors. I was on my way back to the hotel when I saw you and had the driver execute a turnabout.”

  “Thank you for escorting her home while I dealt with Hermann.”

  “Did the man survive his lesson in good manners?”

  The ghostly echo of bones cracking sounded in Adair’s ears. Hermann would never reach for Charley—or any female, for that matter—in violence again. “The bastard will live, unfortunately. However, every time he uses his right hand, he will be reminded of me and what I’ll do if he ever bothers Charley again.”

  “Ah, a calling card, of sorts. I like it.”

  Adair snorted. “Everyone believes you to be the refined one.”

  “A misconception I enjoy. Allows for vast opportunities of underestimation.” He grinned. “It occurs to me our discussion at the hotel ended rather abruptly in your rush to save the fair damsel.”

  “I don’t find the situation humorous, Jules.”

  “Nor do I. But the worst of it is over, and I prefer not to dwell in darkness for long. It serves no one.” His nonjudgmental gaze settled on Adair. “You might try it sometime.”

  Adair’s jaw clenched, and a multit
ude of excuses came to mind as to why such an exercise might work for Jules but not for him, but he shoved them aside. Jules battled his own demons. Demons that went back far longer than five years and ended in a single incident of heartbreak. If Jules could conquer darkness, then so, too, could Adair. He gave his friend a brief nod, indicating the message had been received and understood.

  Jules’s eyes twinkled. “My powers of persuasion are increasing.” He indicated the Blue Goat Tavern to Adair’s right. “Care to imbibe a pint while I finish explaining how brilliant I am?”

  Leave it to Jules to find the right words—even if irritating—to lighten his foul mood. Even so, Adair’s attention strayed toward his original destination. Toward Charley. Every muscle in his body strained to reach her.

  His friend chuckled as if reading his thoughts. He alighted from the hansom and held the door open. “Go. Tales of my brilliance can wait for another day.”

  Relief infused him with a new level of compulsion. His body vibrated with the need to see Charley, to make sure she was safe. To hold her in his arms. Adair shook his head. “I’ll walk.”

  Jules assessed him from head to toe. It was then Adair realized he was standing with his weight balanced on his good leg while he cradled his injured arm against his body.

  “In you go,” Jules repeated, indicating the interior of the carriage with the sweep of his hand. “Unless, of course, you’d like to make an unforgettable impression by collapsing at Charlotte’s feet and forcing her to drag your dead carcass across her threshold.”

  Damned if he couldn’t visualize the entire scene Jules had just scripted, especially since it was uncomfortably close to what had occurred several nights ago. The last thing he wanted was to become another burden for Charley.

  “Thank you.” Adair glanced around for another conveyance and found only walkers, vendor carts, and a stray rider.