Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2)

by Williams, Lana

  “Yes, I—”

  He released her, stepped forward, and bent to grab Malverson by the front of his clothes to lift him. “You bastard.”

  Malverson laughed as he shoved at Oliver’s hands, a trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. “You are not so innocent. I heard what you did in Ethiopia from one of the men who served with you.”

  Oliver stilled for a moment, making Julia wonder to what Malverson referred. “That has nothing to do with you or your behavior.”

  “You are to blame for this. I warned you that I have particular tastes, and you’ve prevented me from satisfying them elsewhere. I had no choice.” He attempted to strike Oliver from his awkward position but Oliver easily blocked the blow.

  Then Oliver drove his fist into the other lord’s face.

  Julia wasn’t certain whether to cheer or stop him.

  He struck Malverson again. And again. The sound of his fist striking bone had Julia jerking in reaction. Malverson’s protests faded to moans as he lay limp on the ground. Oliver drew back once more, causing her breath to catch.

  “Oliver?” Her call paused his movements but his focus remained on Malverson. “Oliver.”

  She reached out with both hands and pulled on his arm, her heart in her throat. Without warning, he spun to face her, his glittering gaze searching for his next target, not truly seeing her.

  The chilling fury visible in every line of his body alarmed her. It almost seemed as though he didn’t recognize her.

  “Oliver,” she said once more, placing her gloved hand alongside his cheek in an attempt to bring him back.

  He jerked away as though he couldn’t bear her touch. The muscles in his jaw bulged, and she could see his struggle to regain control. He turned to face Malverson once more, reaching down to grab the unconscious man.

  Julia drew a quick breath, her stomach lurching as she wondered if he intended to hit him again. Oliver easily lifted Malverson and tossed him through the open carriage door. The lord groaned in response. “Be off,” he ordered the stunned footman.

  The servant shut the door then scrambled up to his post while the driver flicked the reins. They were gone without a backward glance.

  Julia checked to make certain Sally was safe. Her maid stared at her with worried eyes but nodded as though to confirm she was fine. Then Julia turned back to Oliver who continued to stare after the departing carriage.

  She watched him, trying to understand what had just happened. Why had he avoided her touch? In truth, her heart hurt. He’d been avoiding her since they’d...

  Since she’d...

  Words failed her even in her thoughts.

  And now he couldn’t stand for her to touch him? Obviously their relationship was not what she’d thought. He didn’t feel the same as she did. Hadn’t she known that all along?

  Then why did it hurt so much?

  ~*~

  Oliver watched Malverson’s carriage disappear out of sight. If only his rage would do the same. He bent to retrieve his fallen hat, trying to use the normal action to regain his equilibrium.

  The sight of Julia with Malverson’s hands on her was the last thing he remembered. And something he never wanted to see again. He was all too aware it could’ve been worse. So much worse. The fact that he’d been here to stop the bastard from taking Julia was purely circumstantial.

  What if he hadn’t come to the bookshop on this day at this hour—nay, at this very minute? She’d have been stuffed in Malverson’s carriage with only her maid to tell the tale.

  Even worse was Malverson’s accusation that Oliver was somehow to blame for the lord’s persistent pursuit of Julia. The idea that he bore some of the blame gnawed deep inside him. It only proved that he brought darkness to those associated with him.

  He turned to Julia, needing some release of the anger still flowing through him.

  Those wide, questioning eyes looking back at him as though he were a stranger had him muttering an oath under his breath. “Where is your carriage?” he bit out.

  She blinked rapidly, making him realize what a terrible job he’d done of seeing to her safety. She was obviously upset. He’d stopped Malverson but had offered no comfort to her. She might be hurt, and he wouldn’t know.

  He glanced away, doubting she’d want his concern at this point. Not after what she’d seen. What he’d done. He swallowed hard, owning his part in this. But that didn’t excuse him from attempting to reassure her. He turned back. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s your carriage?”

  She glanced down the street at one approaching. “There.”

  “Would you like me to see you home?” He was careful not to touch her, not trusting himself.

  “I’m not yet going home.” Her chin lifted as though she knew what his reaction to that would be.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as the carriage halted before them. Shouldn’t she be traumatized by the events of the past few minutes and want to go home?

  “To the apothecary.” At his incredulous look, she continued, “For my father.”

  “Get in,” he ordered as he opened the door, gesturing for her maid to alight as well. She scurried up beside the driver. Once both women were settled, he stepped into the carriage.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Accompanying you.” He’d be damned if he’d allow her to wander the streets without protection. Not until he made certain Malverson was no longer a threat. He’d suspected the man would do something rash. Why hadn’t he listened to his instincts? He’d been so determined to suppress that side of himself that he’d nearly missed the chance to save Julia.

  Damn and blast.

  “There’s no need for you to bother yourself.” The tightness in her voice didn’t bode well.

  He didn’t respond, only studied her. Though moments ago, he’d tried to release his rage, now he held onto it, not daring to let it go. Not when another emotion which he didn’t care to name, threatened to rush in to replace it.

  It was too soon for such feelings that would turn his entire existence upside down.

  But he couldn’t stop from looking at her, trying to reassure himself that she was truly all right. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “Only frightened me.”

  He twisted his lips to prevent himself from asking if Malverson had frightened her as much as he had. He wasn’t certain he could bear to hear the answer. “I fear your association with me may have increased his interest in you.”

  “Why does he hate you so?”

  “I have ended his attempts to have what most would consider inappropriate entertainment since back in our days at university. Apparently, he hasn’t overcome his boorish behavior. If anything, it’s only worsened.”

  “There is no need for you to come with me,” she said as she pulled aside the curtain to look outside as though none of his comments held her interest. “He won’t be returning to bother me today.”

  “What were you doing in this area?”

  A gentle blush filled her cheeks. He drew a quick breath. Had she intended to meet Malverson? Surely not.

  “I was browsing in the bookshop.”

  Relief filled him until he remembered the store was not in the best neighborhood. “On another quest for your father?”

  She nodded, still not looking at him, which only made him more curious.

  “For what?”

  At last she met his gaze. “He’s become obsessed with finding The Book of Secrets.”

  Damn. “Why haven’t you mentioned that before?”

  “I hoped he’d forget it. And I haven’t seen you...for the past two days.”

  Guilt returned, never far from his side. He’d been avoiding her. There was no denying it. Being with her seemed to have unleashed an even more powerful feeling than the one he already fought.

  Hope.

  Hope that he could have a normal life, a happy one. How could one aft
ernoon with her have done that? But it wasn’t only because of their time together in his library. It was the past weeks he’d spent with her.

  It had started when he’d walked into the bookshop and seen her standing like a beam of light in his dark world. That may have been the moment when hope, and something far stronger, had begun to flicker to life.

  He set his hat on the opposite bench and ran a hand through his hair. He had yet to decide what to do about that damned hope. But the past two days of him keeping his distance hadn’t solved anything.

  Feeling the weight of her gaze, he looked up and was lost again in her light. “Julia.”

  She was in his embrace before he realized either of them had moved, her arms wrapped around him as though she needed him as much as he needed her. Might it be true?

  “Are you certain you’re all right?” he whispered, breathing in her lilac scent as heat seeped through his veins, chasing away the cold.

  He felt her nod against his shoulder.

  “When I saw him touching you—” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t begin to describe the feelings coursing through him at that moment. “I’m sorry.”

  She leaned back, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You have nothing to apologize for. That was all him.” She reached up to smooth his brow. “I’m fine. Truly.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and he did what he’d been longing to do since Malverson’s carriage had left his sight—he kissed her, long and deep, needing the connection as much as he needed air. The warmth of her in his arms, the taste of her, the feel of her hands on him, all helped to convince him that she was truly well.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he asked. She stilled, causing a fissure of worry in the back of his mind.

  Then she leaned back and smiled up at him, but he could see it was forced. “We are going to enjoy each other. Enjoy the moments we spend together.”

  Before he could question her, the carriage drew to a halt, and he heard the footman alighting to open the door. She gave his hand a squeeze and scooted toward the door.

  Oliver stepped out after her, his senses still reeling. Whether it was from their kiss or that odd smile of hers, he couldn’t say.

  ~*~

  Julia exited the carriage without another glance at Oliver, well aware he was directly behind her. She didn’t want him to say anything more. While part of her was relieved to know that he wanted her, she feared he was going to insist there was more to their relationship than she intended.

  That was something she couldn’t allow.

  If he said he truly cared for her, that he wanted to offer for her, she didn’t think she had the strength to resist.

  But she couldn’t put her own happiness over her father’s. If she married and left home, it would destroy him.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Who was she trying to fool? In truth, she feared that if she allowed herself to truly love Oliver, she’d end up just like her father—a shell of a person barely existing and never able to find happiness. Oliver couldn’t possibly care for her to the same extent she cared for him. That would make them no different than her parents. The pain of their marriage was something she couldn’t forget. Nor would she take such a risk.

  She needed to find a way to convince Oliver their relationship was fine as it was.

  Lovers on occasion. Friends at times. But nothing more.

  Or she’d be left with nothing. A husk easily broken.

  She glanced up at him, pasting a bright smile on her face. “I’ll only be a moment at the apothecary’s.”

  Oliver stared at her as though she’d said something he needed to decipher. “I’m coming with you.”

  She tamped down a surge of panic. She needed a moment to herself to regain her equilibrium, to find a way to affect a casualness she was far from feeling. But one look at his face told her there was no arguing. What could she do but offer an even brighter smile?

  He glanced around the area and offered his elbow, moving toward the shop.

  The tinkling bell of the door brought Mr. Skyrme, the odd apothecary, from the rear of the store. “Lady Julia, how nice to see you,” he greeted her warmly.

  “Thank you. I hope you have the tonic ready for my father?”

  “Of course.” He reached for a brown glass bottle on the shelf behind the counter. “Here it is. How is Lord Burnham feeling?”

  “Better. Thank you.” She took the bottle and stared at the label, but the letters printed on it refused to make sense. Not with Oliver watching her so closely. He stepped even closer to look over her shoulder at the bottle. “Yes, this is it,” she declared as she handed it back to the lanky man, hoping it was true.

  “I believe he’ll find it quite beneficial.” Mr. Skyrme pulled some brown paper from beneath the counter to wrap it. “I’ve had many comments from others who’ve used it with excellent results.”

  The tightness in her shoulders eased as she felt Oliver’s gaze shift to glance around the shop. The way he examined things, she almost wondered if he’d ever been inside an apothecary. What did he think of the snakes preserved in bottles or the stuffed alligator hanging from the rafters?

  She finished her purchases quickly though she wasn’t anxious to return to the privacy of the carriage or their conversation. If Oliver broached the subject of their relationship again, she’d either have to distract him, or be honest and tell him that her future was already taken with caring for her father. She wasn’t certain she was strong enough to do the latter and wished to avoid being put in that situation if possible.

  As they exited the store, Oliver took the package from her. “Did you read the claims on the tonic label?”

  She paused, uncertain whether to answer honestly. “It was recommended to Father by a friend of his.”

  “You do realize the primary ingredient in most of the tonics offered for sale in there was either alcohol or an opiate of some sort. I hope your father’s expectations for results are not high.”

  She studied him for a moment. “Sometimes it’s not the actual medicine, but what one thinks the medicine will do that helps the most.” He frowned at her so she tried again. “What you believe will happen is often what happens.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Maybe you should think on that before you disagree. If you look hard enough, I’m certain you’ll find it in one of those books you’re so fond of.” She said it as a reminder to herself as much as to him. She kept a smile on her face as often as possible partly because if she pretended to be happy, she often was, and partly because when she expected good things to occur, they often did. It also helped convince others to do what she wanted them to. But none of that had happened today.

  Her world felt upside down. And she had no idea what to do about it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Of the children who are not the progeny of thieves, but who somehow find their way into the criminal ranks, it is undoubtedly true that pernicious literature...does much to influence them towards evil courses.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Jasper Smithby looked up from his desk in the warehouse as Rutter strolled in. The man had returned to the living with a newfound respect from the other men and seemed to be enjoying his status. Jasper was pleased to have him back.

  “That shipment ye were waitin’ fer arrived last night,” Rutter announced. “The men are unloadin’ it now.”

  “Excellent.” Jasper sorted through a stack of papers and retrieved one. “Here’s where the contents need to go.”

  Rutter took the paper and studied it. “Porter’s Import and Export shop, eh? He’s been handlin’ a lot of the goods of late.”

  “He’s able to move them quickly, especially the gold and silver-plated items, carpets, and the fine furniture. The less time they spend lingering about, the less chance anyone has of tracing them. The wine will be taken elsewhere.”

  Crawford entered the warehouse as well, casting a wary glance at Rutter.

  Ru
tter nodded in greeting.

  “How are ye farin’, Rutter?” Crawford asked. When his gaze fell to the scarf Rutter had taken to wearing around his neck to hide the long cut there, Jasper hid his smile.

  Rutter rocked back on his heels then adjusted the scarf, obviously pleased with the attention. “Grateful to be alive.”

  That was just the reaction Jasper had hoped for when he’d planned Rutter’s escape. The men suspected Jasper of using his special powers to cut Rutter’s throat while he lay in his cell, not realizing Rutter had done it to himself. Though deeper than Jasper had expected, it served the purpose of making the men believe in Jasper’s abilities. If only the news sheets had reported what Smithby had wanted them to—that his death had been caused by dark magic.

  “Can I see it again?” Crawford asked.

  Rutter smiled and untied the scarf with one hand. He appeared rather proud to display the injury as he lifted his chin to give Crawford a good view of the jagged cut.

  Crawford shuddered as he stared at it. “’Tis a miracle ye survived that.”

  Rutter shared a look with Jasper. “A miracle created by Smithby. I wouldn’t be standin’ here if it weren’t fer him.”

  That much was true, Jasper acknowledged. He’d still be in prison. No one knew the full truth except he and Rutter. Jasper was proud of him for keeping his mouth shut.

  Crawford’s gaze swung to Jasper, his expression holding the hint of fear that had been noticeably absent before. That pleased Smithby to no end. “I, ah, found out the man’s name who assisted the police with the drawings.”

  “Oh?” Jasper’s gaze narrowed. “Who?”

  “Was it Captain Hawke?” Rutter asked with a scowl.

  “No, but he’s a friend of his. Viscount Frost.”

  “Crawford, I want you to find him and keep an eye on him. I want to know what else he’s up to.”

  “Sure, boss.” Crawford moved to go only to turn back. “Did either of ye see a lad hangin’ about outside the past day or two?”

  “I noticed one just across the street earlier today,” Rutter said. “Is he still there?”