While Lord Conrad had the British courts in his pocket, Aaron had the horses tucked away in France, where Conrad held no sway over politicians and justice. As long as the horses remained there, the French government would protect his legal right of ownership.
She suspected Chesterfield would receive more than a reprimand for selling Lord Conrad horses he did not legally own. Still, she couldn’t feel pity for a man who had proven to be such a horrible friend to those who had trusted him.
Chesterfield was a conundrum. She understood his need to make Lady Anne a shill for their club, but why force her to offer herself to homosexual men? Why sell her horses to the very man who betrayed his position as her guardian and sold her into this life of misery?
As painful as losing her horses would be to Lady Anne, to know they now belonged to Lord Conrad would be the worst of the blows. This seemed an act of hate rather than self-interest. Moreover, if Lord Chesterfield truly hated her so much, shouldn’t Lady Anne be able to tell? Yet, to all accounts, she considered the man her best friend.
Vic fretted over this inconsistency. Perhaps Chesterfield wasn’t the one who hated Anne, rather it was Lord Conrad, who pulled the man’s strings. Marrying her to a seventy-five-year-old man, letting her believe Girard Candor was her husband so the steward could rape and sell her to other men. These were acts of intense personal hate.
So why would Lord Conrad hate a young woman living in the country? What could she have possibly done to deserve such persistent and vicious attacks?
Vic searched Xavier’s desk for his pad to see if he had made further comments from his last meeting with Aaron. She both cursed him for failing to pass on his notes and smiled in triumph when she discovered two pages of scribbling. She patiently tugged meaning from the hieroglyphics.
Anne had a stepmother she did not like. She believed her father’s marriage to this low class woman and his subsequent fall from society ultimately caused his death.
Vic could tell by the doodles that Xavier had lost interest in the topic. She wished she had remained to take notes, because she wanted to know more about this woman.
While they had connected Robert Candor to Robert Conrad, and Jerald Candor to Girard, there still remained a missing female that had played the role of wife and sister in Robert Candor’s life. A smile crossed her face as all the details suddenly made sense.
Robert Conrad was a man who created his opportunities. He no doubt arranged for this woman to come and seduce Anne’s widowed father. The scheme was brilliant! No one in society would associate with a low class commoner, leaving them no choice but to disavow Rothchild, making Lord Conrad his only friend and guardian of his daughter.
To perpetrate this scheme, he would choose a woman he trusted…a woman perhaps he loved…a woman that Anne would find as repulsive as society did.
She didn’t dare suggest this theory to Xavier until she gathered more proof, but it would explain the hatred behind Conrad’s actions. He did not simply seek Anne’s money; he wanted to steal her dreams and future. He wanted to destroy her in all ways.
If she was correct, Chesterfield would pay dearly for depriving Lord Conrad of this blow to Anne.
Vic frowned as she realized that if she were correct about Conrad’s motivations of hate, Anne and her brother David remained in danger. Conrad could push the false sale of horses back to them. With his powerful influence, he could have them tried, convicted, and tossed into prison, where neither would last for long.
She returned Xavier’s writing tablet to his desk drawer and locked it. She wished he was here, but in a way, she was glad he wasn’t, for he would only chide her for making leaps beyond the evidence. Granted this was such a leap, but something inside her felt certain she had guessed correctly about Conrad’s motivation and the present danger to Anne and David.
Taking a deep breath, she asked herself what Xavier would do. She smiled as the answer came to her. First, he’d locate and destroy David’s bill of sale to Chesterfield. If the bill of sale no longer existed, Chesterfield would have no evidence that he ever owned the horses he sold to Conrad.
She obtained the address of his house in London and called for Davy.
***
“Now tell me again why we are closing the office and going to this house?” Davy asked.
“I’m working on a case of my own,” she declared.
“What case?”
“A private case. Now I can take a hired cab or you can drive me, as Xavier requested. The choice is yours.”
Davy didn’t move. “What are you planning to do when we get to this place?”
“I will inquire if the master of the house is home.”
“And if he is?”
“I will go in and ask to become a member of his club. He will doubtlessly tell me no and send me on my way.”
“So what is the purpose of this call?”
“To get the lay of the land.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Davy, we’ve wasted enough time. I’m leaving now, with or without you.”
“I’ll get the carriage ready,” Davy grumbled and headed outside.
She wrote Xavier a note explaining what she believed and where she was going. Just in case she didn’t return, he would know where to begin his search.
Chapter 32
“Victor Hamilton to see Lord Chesterfield,” Vic said and handed the butler a card.
The man eyed Vic over and opened the door. Vic might have thought it a good sign except for the feeling the butler didn’t want anyone remembering a young man standing outside the house.
“Wait there.” The butler pointed to a bench by the coat rack.
Vic sat down. The moment the butler disappeared, she took the opportunity to frisk the pockets of the very fine coat hanging on the rack. Finding nothing, she wandered about, peeking in rooms.
She opened the door on the left side of the hall, expecting it to be a library, and stared in shock at the naked male statue towering in the middle of the room. Unlike all the statues she had seen from the Roman era, this one had a rather long and impressive protrusion jutting out. She frowned at what appeared to be dried blood covering it.
She’d seen enough.
Vic hurried to the front door and struggled to unlatch it, but inexplicably, she could not open it.
“Here now, where are you going?” the butler demanded as he rushed towards her.
“I’ve just remembered another appointment.”
“But Lord Chesterfield is upstairs in his bedroom waiting for you.” The butler spoke in a loud stern voice, protesting Vic’s departure even as he reached over her head and turned a second latch.
To her amazement, the door opened and she escaped from the house. The butler called for someone to stop ‘the boy’ but she was already in her carriage, moving off at a frightening speed.
***
The moment they returned to the office, Davy demanded to know what had happened.
“I had changed my mind about seeing Chesterfield and was trying to leave. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the door to open. Thankfully, the butler arrived, and while he made a pretense of stopping me, he unlatched a second lock on the door that in my panic I had missed.”
“Why were you in a panic? Did you steal something? Is that why he yelled at you to stop?”
“No! I haven’t stolen anything, yet. He opened the door for me. You don’t open the door and let thieves run out.”
Davy grabbed his head as if she had given him a headache. “What do you mean ‘yet’? And why, if he let you out, did he yell at you to stop?”
“Because he was supposed to take me upstairs to Lord Chesterfield’s bedroom. He could tell I did not wish to go, so he let me out and made a good show of trying to stop me so he wouldn’t be in trouble with his master. At least, I think that was his motive.”
“I need to lie down,” Davy declared.
Vic apologized for giving him a headache and escorted him upstairs to his
bed. She brought him an herb tea to ease his pain.
She returned downstairs, retrieved her ‘last message’ from Xavier’s desk and threw it in her trash basket. She wouldn’t need to write him one for tonight, because she could simply tell Claire what she planned. She frowned as she realized Claire would tell Gregory and they would join forces to stop her.
Sighing, she began a second note to Xavier.
To my EMPLOYER:
I am going to sneak into Lord Chesterfield’s house tonight and search it for David’s bill of sale for the horses.
Realizing that she had thrown away the letter that explained why this was important she quickly added:
You will simply need to trust my intuitive skills as to why this is necessary.
She hesitated before signing her name as she realized she might not survive her night’s mission and she dare not leave matters between them as they were presently.
To my friend and true love:
I am sorry I have pushed you away. I have been a coward and the worst of friends to you and you have been amazingly patient. I want you to know I do love you with all my heart and had planned to move forward into our future, thus preventing the need for you to join Lady Anne’s club and possibly find yourself blackmailed. I hope that is of some consolation, and I am very sorry I have been dragging my feet. Very sorry indeed, since if you are reading this it means I will never know the full joy of our love.
Please forgive me,
Vic, your impudent pup.
Vic sealed the letter and placed it on his desk. She walked to the hardware store and purchased every variety of door locks they possessed. Returning to the office, she tried to teach herself how to pick locks.
She had managed to master two of the locks by the time Davy woke and came downstairs, demanding to know what she had put in his tea to knock him out.
“Nothing other than herbs,” she replied. “Perhaps you were tired and needed sleep.”
His blurry vision narrowed in on the locks. “What are you doing, and where did those come from?”
She laughed. “You are beginning to sound like Xavier,” she teased. “Next thing, you’ll be calling me an ‘impudent pup’ and threatening to fire me.”
“If I knew how to get in contact with Xavier, I’d tell him to come back here right away, for you’re up to something bad,” he declared as he picked up one of the locks she had already mastered. “You aren’t ready to learn this particular skill.”
“Why not? A good investigator needs to know how to open locks.”
“Because Xavier said you weren’t. I say you aren’t!” he added with a great deal of emotion.
She stared at him. “Davy, what’s wrong?”
He sat down on the bench and met her eyes. “Sometimes I get these feelings and whatever I’m dreading comes true. Well, I got a really bad feeling about you learning to pick locks, and Xavier said he wouldn’t teach you yet.”
“He didn’t, I’m teaching myself, although I am certain it would go faster if he showed me how.”
“I really wish you’d stop,” he pleaded. “If you care anything for your old friend, Davy, you’ll stop picking those locks right this minute!”
Vic put down the locks. Claire was correct. The price of love did require the occasional relinquishing of control.
She walked over and sat down beside him. “There. I have put down the locks, Officer Davy. Now will you please stop worrying?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid you only put them down because you think you know enough to do whatever it is you plan to do.”
“I put them down because you asked me to,” she assured him, although he was correct. She felt confident she’d be able to break into Lord Chesterfield’s house.
“Promise me you will not pick another lock until Xavier returns.”
Vic sighed.
“Vic, promise me. I have a bad feeling…”
She stroked his arm. “I’m sorry you worry so much about me.”
“If you’re really sorry, you’ll stop doing things that make me worry.”
“This is my job! And Lady Anne and her brother’s life could depend upon me.”
“How?” he demanded.
By the time she had finished her reasons why Lord Chesterfield’s house required a thorough search; Davy’s face had gone from stubbornness to resigned bleakness.
“Well, if it has to be done, I’ll do it.”
“Davy, I’m the investigator,” she reminded him.
“No, you’re an apprentice,” he replied. “Whereas, I’m an expert burglar. That’s what I did for a living before I went to the choker.” He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the prison number tattooed on his arm.
Vic didn’t want to hurt his feelings and point out that he couldn’t have been a very good burglar if the police had caught him. After a long pause, she tried again to explain why she needed to do this alone. “I appreciate the offer—”
He cut her off. “It’s not an offer. I’m doing this and you can’t stop me.”
“You cannot stop me either.”
“Fine, we’ll both do it. When are you going?”
She paused. “Tomorrow night.”
“I’m going tonight.”
“You can’t! That’s when I’m going!”
“That’s not what you just said.”
“Well, I lied. I thought you intended to go the same night I did.”
“Nope, I’m going tonight, and if you describe the item, it might not be necessary for you to go tomorrow night.”
She sighed. “I’m going tonight.”
“Me, too.”
“Well, let’s go together and work as a team.”
“Might as well,” he grumbled.
“However, this is a one-time event, and I’m giving in only because you have a bad feeling about it. In the future, you will allow me to perform my job.”
“In the future, I hope Xavier takes you with him when he disappears.”
Vic smiled at the thought of her doing spy work for the government. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 33
Davy proved to be an excellent lock-pick and remarkably light-footed for his size.
Vic blushed as she led him to the room with the statue. She expected the bill of sale would be in a safe hidden somewhere in the room.
One glance at the statue and Davy tensed and stared at her with worried eyes. Before he tried to pull her from the house, she hurried to the back wall and peeked behind the paintings. A soft noise made her turn around. Davy had not only found the safe in the base of the statue, but opened it, as well. She joined him, trying to ignore the bloody manhood jutting over their heads. With a small battery-powered torch she had acquired from her Oxford professor, she studied the documents. Many were letters from Conrad demanding ‘proof of vice’ for various people. The tone of the letters made her appreciate Xavier all the more, for barely a sentence in the letters did not contain some form of insult or abuse.
Unfortunately, she found no bill of sale for the horses. She tried to put the papers back but Davy took them from her and placed them ‘just so’ in the safe. Evidently, he had taken the effort to remember how they laid before the rifling began. She smiled at him for his cleverness, but his grim expression never altered.
Even when they had safely slipped away and returned to the office, his expression remained bleak and his heart seemed heavy with regret.
“Davy, what’s wrong?”
“I swore to Father Daniels I would never return to thievery, and until tonight, I have faithfully kept my promise.”
“You have still kept your promise. You didn’t steal a thing. You only prevented an apprentice investigator from getting into trouble.” She took his hands into hers. “I would have failed at my mission without you, Davy. Burglary isn’t as easy as I thought. I learned so much from you tonight.”
“I was actually feeling better until your last statement.”
“You should. You did a good deed and you haven’t broken your word to either the Father or Xavier. You did not steal anything and you kept me safe.”
“Listen to me, Victor. Burglary is a dangerous profession. If you break into the homes of evil men, the probability of being shot is all too real.”
She nodded solemnly. “I won’t do it again, until I’m better trained.”
Davy held his head as if in pain. “I’m taking you home now. I can’t take no more tonight.”
Before leaving, Vic remembered her note and made him wait while she retrieved it and threw it in her trash basket. Having removed her ‘death farewell’, she locked up the office and headed home to those who loved her and were no doubt wide-awake and waiting to hear what kept her out so late.
***
Gregory and Claire’s interrogation took almost two hours, which meant she didn’t get to sleep until four a.m. Thus, she still slept when Davy arrived at eight a.m. to ensure she was all right. Instead of telling Davy she was and sending him back to the office, Gregory insisted she dress and go to work, no doubt believing it a just punishment for her late night foolishness.
Realizing Gregory’s extreme displeasure with her, and knowing she would get no more sleep if she tried to remain at home, she stumbled about in exhaustion and attempted to dress. She had pulled the muslin boa constrictor wrap on backwards and could not understand why it was more uncomfortable than usual. Fortunately, Claire came in and set matters to right. She laughed the whole time she straightened and repositioned it properly.
“I thought you had lost all sense last night, now I know it for certain. You haven’t taken up drinking or smoking hashish while your boss is away, have you?”
“What is hashish?”
The Troublesome Apprentice (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 1) Page 24