“I don’t want an apology,” she responded. She wanted something else she couldn’t put a name to, but it certainly wasn’t an apology.
“I will assist you to return inside.”
She nodded as she straightened her gown and smoothed her hair, hoping her appearance wasn’t as ruffled as she felt. “My aunt will no doubt be wondering where I am.”
“You’re certain you’re all right? He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. Frightened me, yes. And if you hadn’t come along when you did...” She glanced at Oliver as they neared the garden door to return to the ballroom. Malverson hadn’t hurt her, but she was beginning to wonder if this man had the power to do so.
Chapter Five
“It is a recognised fact that there is a great disposition on the part of children to follow the vocation of their father, and in the case of the children of thieves there is no alternative. They become thieves, because they are educated in the way, and have no other trade to apply themselves to.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver remained in the darkness of the garden for several minutes as he watched Julia smooth her skirts before entering the ballroom. The last thing she needed was to be seen with someone as she returned. He wanted to leave, to turn and walk away from all that she made him feel. But that wouldn’t solve his problem, and Julia was definitely becoming a problem.
When she’d looked up at him with such vulnerability, it had nearly been his undoing. The longing that had pierced him when she’d touched him felt as though it had landed in his soul.
That would never do.
He needed some distance—both time and physical space—to put all of this in perspective. His lust for her was overriding his logic. Another reason he needed to keep her at arm’s length.
He remained in the shadows of the garden as she wove her way through the throng of people, greeting several acquaintances. No outward sign remained of what she’d experienced. Was she as composed on the inside after what she’d been through?
Her slow progress made him realize how many people were in the ballroom. He unclenched his fists and straightened his jacket. Unease spread through him, quickly snuffing out his desire. He’d come through the garden entrance with the hope of avoiding much of the crush. He was glad he had or he never would’ve come upon Julia.
Hawke had insisted the ball would be the perfect place to meet. If Oliver didn’t know better, he’d guess Hawke was attempting to force him into crowds as some sort of test. First it had been Blackfriars Bridge last week, which was a busy street. Then had come the visit to the men’s club that Hawke had insisted he didn’t have time for. Now a ball. While Oliver was making inroads to end his reclusive ways, it couldn’t be done overnight. Nor did it feel as though it was getting easier—at least not as he stared at the mass of people inside.
The colorful attire became a blur. The rising crest of music mixed with conversation hummed in his ears. His palms dampened and his heartbeat sped as the sights and sensations before him threatened to force him to return home.
He shifted his focus to the reason he was here, to the many tasks he and Hawke needed to attend to. The young girls he’d seen on Blackfriars Bridge deserved a chance to live a life of their choosing, not one they’d been tricked into by Smithby.
The idea of a criminal possessing an ancient medieval text was appalling enough, let alone the knowledge that he was using it for illegal gain.
He needed to tell Hawke he’d failed to obtain either of the books he’d been searching for, but that Lord Burnham was aiding him with research on one. With a grimace, he realized explaining all that to Hawke was going to be difficult, mainly because it involved thinking of Lady Julia. Remaining stoic while she was on his mind would not be easy.
Malverson’s actions also needed to be discussed. Hawke should be advised that the lord was going to be a problem. Oliver had been certain of it when he’d spoken with him at the club. After seeing how he’d acted with Julia, there was no question. Oliver still found his behavior repulsive. Nothing had changed from their university days.
The quiet murmur of voices from the opposite side of the garden drew near, and he knew he couldn’t remain where he was any longer. But neither could he seem to leave his current position.
Julia appeared once more in his line of sight and immediately the tension in his shoulders eased. Her smile was bright as she visited with others, despite all she’d been through. Keeping her in view, he moved to the garden door and stepped through.
At last he shifted his gaze away and searched for Hawke, hoping he was nearby so Oliver didn’t have to make his way through the crowd. The idea of maneuvering through all those people nauseated him. He finally spotted Hawke and his betrothed, Letitia Fairchild. She was a lovely, intelligent woman who seemed to suit Hawke perfectly from Oliver’s brief acquaintance.
Why were they standing so close to the dance floor? Surely Hawke didn’t dance with his injured leg. Most days he walked with a cane.
Oliver tried to catch Hawke’s attention with the hope he wouldn’t have to venture any closer.
Hawke nodded in acknowledgement then gestured for him to come closer. Blast him. Oliver shook his head and returned the gesture. Hawke only smiled, remaining firmly in place.
With a scowl, Oliver surveyed the crowd, trying to determine some way to navigate through so many people without losing his mind. His continued anxiousness annoyed him, especially compared to his life two years ago. He’d been very good at his duties in the Navy. Perhaps too good. He’d completed missions on three continents, saved countless lives, and now he was too nervous to walk through a ballroom.
Oliver welcomed the anger he felt at himself—as long as he could keep it contained. That was key. He drew a deep breath and moved forward. Julia had long since moved out of sight. He kept his gaze on Hawke and made his way through the crowd, focusing on drawing steady, long breaths and on Hawke’s face.
“Good evening, Frost,” his friend greeted him. “I’d given up on seeing you this evening.”
“I was delayed outside.” Oliver turned to Miss Fairchild. “Good evening.”
“Lovely to see you.” She offered a smile that lit her face. “I’m pleased you were able to make it tonight.”
He felt as though he were a little boy being patted on the head for good behavior. Yet the way she said it, he was pleased with himself rather than annoyed. “Thank you.” After all, what else could he say? Her genuine kindness prevented a sharp retort.
“Any luck with The Book of Secrets?” Hawke asked, an amused smile tilting his mouth as if he knew how Oliver felt.
Oliver shook his head both in answer to his question and in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “Unfortunately, few have even heard of the book.”
“Didn’t you say you found another text by the same author?”
“I did, but I wasn’t able to purchase it. Someone else bought it first.” Oliver couldn’t help but scowl. He still couldn’t believe he’d permitted pretty blue eyes and a sunny smile to charm him out of the book.
Hawke stared at him with brows raised. “I’m surprised you allowed that to happen.”
“No more than I.” He turned to Miss Fairchild. “I believe you know her. Lady Julia Hopwood?”
Miss Fairchild’s lips parted in surprise. “She’s the one who suggested you might aid us in finding The Book of Secrets to begin with. Her father told her you were an expert in ancient texts.”
Oliver sighed. “She bought it for him.”
“Why don’t you simply explain and offer to purchase the book from her?” Hawke asked.
“Believe me, I tried. The situation is not that simple.”
“Would you like me to speak with her?” Miss Fairchild asked. “I can explain how important it is.”
“That might be helpful. However, her father has offered to study the contents for me. Having a purpose seems to lift his spirits after being ill.”
“He is frequently ailing,”
Miss Fairchild added. “I know Julia worries about him.”
“Perhaps he can continue to search the book for clues while you pursue other leads,” Hawke suggested. “The more assistance we have, the better.”
“Speaking of our other efforts,” Oliver began and shared with him the outcome of his trip to the club, including Adair’s offer of assistance. “Adair said he’d mention our rumor to a few others who enjoy spreading news.”
“Truly?” Hawke seemed surprised.
“Of course. Very helpful of him.” Oliver frowned. The brothers’ relationship remained a mystery. Yet who was he to question it when he rarely saw his own younger sister? Oliver continued, sharing his conversation with Jonston and Malverson.
“Malverson is a brute, but we’ve always known that,” Hawke said.
“It may be even worse than we thought.”
Hawke studied him. “How so?”
Oliver shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”
“I think the sooner you explain, the better.” He glanced at Letitia who drew nearer. “You may speak in confidence.”
Oliver glanced around to make certain no one could overhear. “He was attempting to take liberties with Lady Julia in the garden. After she’d said no.”
“Damn. Is she all right?”
Letitia’s eyes went wide.
He nodded, trying to hide his anger at Malverson and guilt at his own behavior toward her. He needed to keep his desire reined in. She was a lady and he couldn’t offer her a future, so he had no business pursuing her.
“I’m going to find Julia,” Letitia announced. With her expression full of worry, she took her leave.
“What are you not telling me?” Hawke asked, eyes narrowed.
Oliver shook his head. He had no intention of discussing this longing with anyone. More than ready to change the subject, he asked, “Why are you standing so close to the dance floor?”
“We were about to dance when I saw you.”
Oliver could only stare at his friend. “You never liked to dance even when you had two good legs.”
A smile tilted the corner of Hawke’s mouth. “It’s amazing what one is willing to do to please the right lady. Making Letitia happy makes me happy.” At Oliver’s raised brow, he continued, “We manage in our own way on the dance floor. Together.”
An odd pang filled Oliver. Already Hawke and Miss Fairchild were a couple in every way that mattered. That was special, but nothing he intended to experience. In order to do so, he’d have to allow more emotions in his life. That couldn’t be permitted. Lamenting the fact or feeling envy for Hawke and his lady served no purpose.
Books were all he needed.
Unfortunately, that no longer filled him with the pleasure it used to.
~*~
Julia finally found her aunt speaking with a friend near the top of the ballroom.
“I was wondering where you’d gone to,” Aunt Matilda said, her toe tapping to the rhythm of the music. “I nearly decided a search was in order.”
“I—I stepped out for a breath of fresh air.” Julia tried to keep her expression calm. She didn’t want to tell her aunt all that had occurred. Or any of it, for that matter. Not when it had been so stupid of her to walk outside with Lord Malverson. She didn’t trust the man. Now she knew her instincts had been correct.
“What happened?” Aunt Matilda slipped her gloved hand into Julia’s and gave a squeeze.
“What do you mean?” Julia hoped that perhaps she referred to something else.
“I can see something’s amiss. Tell me.”
With a sigh, Julia realized she couldn’t keep it from her aunt. “Lord Malverson made advances toward me that I did not invite.”
“Julia.” The concern in her aunt’s voice along with the tight grip of her hand had tears filling Julia’s eyes.
“I’m fine. Nothing occurred. Truly. But I admit I was beginning to panic when Viscount Frost came upon us.”
“Frost?” Aunt Matilda’s eyes widened. “I knew I liked that man.”
“You haven’t yet met him.”
“No matter. Sometimes that’s not necessary to gain a sense of a person. I’ve made a few inquiries of my own in addition to what you’ve told me about him. Now tell me what happened.”
Julia shook her head. “Malverson made unwanted advances. Frost interrupted. Fists were thrown.”
“Oh, my.” Aunt Matilda’s gaze never left Julia’s. “You’re certain you’re all right?”
“Yes. I’m merely mad at myself for allowing him the opportunity.” Julia had to take care that she never did so again.
“Fists, you say? But Frost had the upper hand, did he not?” The gleeful look in her aunt’s eyes was alarming.
“He did.” Julia at last permitted herself a small smile. Her heart had leapt to her throat at Oliver’s forcefulness. The way he’d handled Malverson with ease had been impressive. His skill had been frightening in some respects—those efficient movements, the cold glint in his eyes, his relentlessness.
“Good evening, Julia,” Lettie Fairchild greeted her.
“How nice to see you. I was looking for you earlier.” Julia was pleased to see her friend. She and Lettie had known each other for several years but had grown much closer in recent weeks.
Lettie greeted her aunt then stood on the opposite side of Julia. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Are you all right?”
Julia raised a brow, uncertain what exactly she meant. How could she know?
“Viscount Frost spoke with us briefly.”
“He told you?” Her face heated at the idea of Oliver discussing what had happened.
“Not the details.”
“I’m fine. Nothing happened.”
“You still must’ve been frightened.” Lettie touched her arm. “That terrible man.”
Julia held Lettie’s gaze, grateful she understood. “It was for a few moments. Until Viscount Frost arrived.”
“Do you know him well?” Aunt Matilda asked Lettie. Obviously she’d overheard the conversation despite Lettie’s attempt to be quiet.
“I only met him last week. His library is incredible.”
Julia shook her head. Trust Lettie to be impressed with his books. “Do you know anything else about him? Has Captain Hawke shared any details?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. He was in the Navy with Nathaniel but left almost two years prior to him.” Lettie frowned as she stared at the couples dancing. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Julia searched for whatever had surprised her friend.
Lettie let out a delicate scoff of disbelief as she glared at a couple on the dance floor. “Tell me the Earl of Adair is not dancing with Lady Samantha.”
The desperate edge to Lettie’s tone made Julia search for Captain Hawke’s older brother. Sure enough, it was true. While Lady Samantha was attractive in a rather sharp way, Julia had never cared for the woman, and she knew Lettie had reason to dislike her. “I wish I could.”
With a scowl, Lettie muttered, “What on earth is he thinking? I shall have to ask Nathaniel to say something to him.”
“Surely he’s only dancing with her to be polite.” Julia could understand Lettie’s upset after how rudely Samantha had acted toward her on numerous occasions.
“He doesn’t do anything out of politeness from what little I know of him.” She shook her head and turned away from the dancers as though unable to bear the sight. “You’re certain you’re all right?”
“Yes, but if you learn anything more about Viscount Frost, I would be interested to hear it. He’s working with my father.”
“Of course.”
Julia waited, hoping Lettie would add something more but she said nothing else. That was so like Lettie as she’d never been one to gossip. While it was one of her more admirable qualities, in this instance, it wasn’t helpful.
“I am most anxious to meet Viscount Frost,” Aunt Matilda said. “Will you introduce me?”
“He’s already left
,” Lettie countered.
Julia was taken aback at the disappointment that filled her. Since when had her enjoyment of an event depended on anyone? It seemed the viscount had invaded her life in more ways than one.
Chapter Six
“Crime may be suppressed, but it can never be exterminated by simply lopping the flourishing boughs and branches it puts forth; it should be attacked at the root, and the thief child is the root of the adult growth, tough, strong-limbed, and six feet high.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver steadied himself as he stepped onto the busy street late the next morning. When he’d left the house earlier, he’d nearly convinced himself how much easier it was to venture out into the world.
Now he wasn’t so certain.
This area not far from the London docks held an odd mix of people and shops. Taking cues from Hawke, he’d chosen not to wear his normal clothes, but instead, an older suit coat that showed signs of wear. The few well-dressed gentlemen who walked down the street were eyed with either suspicion or a predatory gleam by others.
He gave a nod to Tubbs, who would return for him in half an hour’s time. Surely by then he’d have completed his business here. He and Tubbs had enjoyed a sparring match in the basement that morning, but a message had arrived, interrupting his intention of remaining home today.
Already passersby jostled him, threatening his composure. A deep breath only brought an unwelcome stench to his attention. It had rained hard last night and, though the precipitation had ceased earlier, the moisture made a muck of the dirt and grime and waste on the streets. Everything from old newspapers to horse droppings to orange peels had mixed into a thick paste that made walking treacherous and coated shoes if one didn’t watch where a foot was placed.
Continuing to breathe despite the stench, he focused on avoiding the puddles and the worst of the sludge as he made his way to ‘Porter’s Imports and Exports.’ Mr. Porter knew of his interest in books and sent a message when an older book crossed his path. He’d sent one yesterday while Oliver was out.
Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2) Page 6