The Unquiet

by J. D. Robb; Mary Blayney

  “Not you, Mrs. Chernov, but perhaps your husband put profit before honesty. That could certainly come back to haunt you after his death.”

  Lydia thought of her dreams and the one word: Wish. Haunting indeed. “Alexei’s life was a muddle of science and business and gaming.”

  “Gaming?” Mr. Chase straightened as if she had just spoken a magic word.

  “Yes, he played cards and roulette but never to excess.” She paused and then added with too much honesty, “Or at least, never to excess that I knew of.”

  As the conveyance slowed, Mr. Chase patted her hand, a rather fatherly gesture for a flirt but it brought some comfort.

  “For the moment, we need only keep you safe for the rest of the night. In the morning I will have some answers.”

  “You will? This is not your problem, Mr. Chase.” Though, in truth, Lydia had no idea how she would investigate Nesbitt. The Butcher.

  When the carriage stopped, Lydia made to open the door, but Mr. Chase stayed her with his hand. “This is the most dangerous moment. From here to your door. Wait.”

  Fear, which had been like a banked fire, burst alive again. Mr. Chase climbed out, looked up and down the street, walked over to the alley between her shop and Mr. Florencio’s bakery shop next door. A minute later he came back whistling and opened the hackney door.

  “How can you whistle when you should be afraid for your life?” As grateful as she was for his concern, she could not control her annoyance.

  “Hardly afraid for our lives, Mrs. Chernov. The man is a bully but not a murderer.”

  “But you called him Nesbitt the Butcher.”

  “That’s how he earns his living. He slaughters animals with the occasional foray into something less than legal. But not murder. Never that I have heard.”

  “And why would a gentleman like you have heard?”

  “I may be a gentleman but I do make occasional visits into the less savory parts of Birmingham.” He bowed to her and offered her his hand to help her down from the conveyance. “Not that I ever actually do anything illegal.”

  With a sigh, Lydia marveled at her ability to be attracted to men who felt the law was a convenience to be disregarded when one wished. Ignoring him as best she could, Lydia asked the driver to wait while she wrote a note. He nodded with a gaptoothed smile.

  She unlocked the shop door, stepped in, lit a candle, and composed a hasty note to the Allertons. She came back onto the street to hand it to the driver, along with payment and a generous tip.

  All the while, Mr. Chase watched her so intently that Lydia patted her neckline to be sure her shawl was in place, the chain still fast around her neck.

  As the hackney moved away, without Mr. Chase, Lydia noted, he continued to scan the area with her at his back. Nothing filled the street but the ground fog, and Lydia finally relaxed enough to draw a deep breath.

  He turned to face her as she stepped back into the shop. “Mrs. Chernov, what will you do if Nesbitt tries again?”

  “If Nesbitt does come back I will deal with him. Bullies do not intimidate me.”

  “Even bullies with a knife?”

  “Stop trying to frighten me,” she said sharply, to hide her anxiety. “I have a pistol and I know how to use it. Nesbitt will find that out for himself if he causes any more trouble.” She would not look away from him.

  “Yes, I see that you mean for me to understand the same warning.” He stepped back and bowed. “I will have someone watching the shop tonight. I assume you live upstairs.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded.

  “He will be wearing a white scarf around his neck so you will know he is my man. He is not afraid of bullies either.”

  “That is entirely unnecessary, Mr. Chase.”

  “Even so, I will not leave a task half-done. Consider it my duty as your knight rescuer.”

  Frowning, she inclined her head. “If you cannot be dissuaded, I thank you. Now, good-bye, sir.” Lydia tried for a firm and final farewell. Of course, that had not worked the first time. She began to close the door, but he stopped it with a hand on the frame.

  “You asked before if I was flirting. If you have to ask, then it has been much too long since anyone told you how beautiful you are.” His voice was low and inviting, his eyes so filled with good humor that she wanted to grab him and turn away at the same time.

  Lydia opted to turn away, closing the door quickly, not caring if the abrupt move pinched his fingers.

  After double-checking the locks with hands that were not quite steady, she walked into the back room, closing the door behind her. Only with that barrier between them did she finally let her guard down and lean her forehead against the door.

  Without his smile as a distraction, a dozen questions assailed her. What would have happened if Mr. Chase had not been there? What did Nesbitt want? Would he try again? What did they think she valued most? Why? Why? Why?

  Lydia steadied herself with routine, unpacking her valise and putting everything where it belonged. She stopped the familiar moves as a new thought struck. It made her feel quite ill. What if Mr. Chase was part of the plan? What if he was the one who wanted her “most valued possession”?

  Warming to the subject, Lydia recalled that he had told her that he was familiar with things illegal. Of course, that kind of statement would arouse suspicion, and if he was guilty, he would never want to do that.

  And he was so clearly English and not Russian, and Nesbitt had said, “The Russian wants what you have.”

  Her head ached. It was too much to think about tonight. Especially when she knew what was waiting upstairs. She hurried through the last of her routine, and as she hung the valise on its hook, a voice echoed down the stairs.

  “Lydia, is that you?” Natalia’s heavy accent made the words sound foreign.

  “Yes, and if it was not, Grandmama, what would you do?” Lydia called up. She wanted to avoid explanations until she had sorted some out for herself.

  “I would send Delphie down the back stairs for Mr. Florencio, then pretend I am old and frail, and when the thief came after me, I would beat him with a stick and then stab him with my knitting needles.”

  Pretend she was old and frail? Not to mention blind. Lydia laughed a little. “Babushka, I am happy to know that you are so well prepared.”

  “There, that’s better than the upset I heard before. Come up and tell me why you have come home so distraught. What went wrong?”

  The woman was a mind reader. But then, Lydia realized, she was back much earlier than she had told Grandmama to expect her.

  “Do you need Delphie to come help you?”

  “No, no, Grandmama. I’m perfectly fine. I’m coming up. I’m coming.”

  Lydia went upstairs, kissed Natalia Chernov on both cheeks as was their custom, and then locked the door of the flat behind her.

  “Why are you locking the door up here? I have never heard you do that before.” Natalia’s concern was now suspicion.

  “Give me your arm,” Lydia said, resigned to telling the truth. “Let me help you back to your room and I will tell you.”

  The old woman leaned on her, more heavily than usual, and Lydia hoped that she was not taking a turn for the worse. Her coughing spasms had eased, but flesh still hung on her frame. No matter how many delicacies Lydia urged her to eat, Natalia Chernov did not seem to be gaining her weight back since her last cold.

  Natalia insisted on taking the chair where she spent most of her waking hours. The carefully ordered knitting and fabric samples were within reach, and the old lady lifted a piece of fine purple cotton and began stroking it with her fingers.

  The maid waited, as she always did, until told exactly what to do. “Bring us the vodka and two glasses, Delphie.”

  The maid’s eyes widened but she left the room promptly and came back in a flash with two glasses and the decanter.

  “Delphie, go to bed. I’ll wake you when I need to undress.”

  “No, Lydia. She will only liste
n at the door.”

  Delphie smiled at the old lady and sat on the stool at the foot of her chair.

  “Then you will keep this to yourself,” Lydia commanded the maid with as hard a look as she could summon. “You will tell no one tomorrow or the day after that. Never.”

  Delphie stopped smiling and nodded several times, her eyes showing some fear.

  “Tell us what happened,” Grandmama invited, as if this were a fairy tale.

  Drawing a deep breath, she made one valiant effort to steady her voice. “A man accosted me tonight right after I left to see Irina and Mr. Allerton.”

  Grandmama nodded and Delphie gasped.

  “He told me . . .” She reached out and took the old lady’s hand. “That he wanted my ‘most valued possession.’ ”

  “The recipe.” The old lady nodded again, certain she was right.

  “Do you think so?” It was not what had come to her mind first, but the recipe for the purple dye was truly their most valuable possession.

  Natalia pulled her hand away and waved for Delphie to pass her the vodka. She downed it in one toss of the glass and handed it back to the maid.

  Lydia sighed. “I have no idea what game he was playing.”

  “You escaped.” It was a statement. “Lydia, you should have waited to hear what he considered so valuable.”

  Lydia shook her head. “Yes, I suppose so, but, Grandmama, that is asking too much. He frightened me. We have been so safe here, so conventional and content this last year.” She raised the old lady’s hand and kissed it. “What could Alexei’s enemies want from us now?”

  “Not enemies, Lydia. Not enemies. Alexei had no enemies. Just friends who were as devious as he was. Some more. Some less.”

  Lydia looked down at her own hands, smoothing the skin, rubbing the spot where a wedding ring should be.

  Now the old lady found her hand, patted it, and kept holding. “He cared for you. He loved you.”

  How many times had Alexei’s grandmother assured her of that?

  “I do believe it was your English reserve that fascinated him. Such a contrast to his capricious ways. He loved the way you spoke Russian, and we both know the way he spoke French was seduction in itself.”

  She let go of Lydia’s hand and sat back in her chair, feeling for her lap robe. “Most of all, he trusted you in a way that he never, ever trusted anyone else. That is a kind of love no one else ever knew from him.”

  Lydia nodded, tears too close for her to speak. Maybe it was true. Maybe he had seduced her because he loved her, but in the end he had used her just as he used everyone else.

  “Who could know that Alexei’s luck would run out?” Natalia echoed Lydia’s own thoughts. “That his ship would sink and he would sink with it.” She was silent a moment and then rallied. “Tell me how you escaped.”

  Lydia recounted the scene, and Natalia’s eyes lit with excitement. She was so entertained by the tale that Lydia added every detail she could recall.

  Natalia grinned despite her bad teeth. “There is something so intriguing about a man who carries a sword stick. The hint of danger beneath the civility, I think.”

  “Sword or not,” Lydia said as she finished, “I think I could have made good an escape on my own.”

  “I think it was a timely appearance,” Natalia insisted. “But what was a gentleman doing on the streets in that part of the city?”

  “I have no idea and do not wish to know.” She bit her lip on the lie.

  “What did you tell Irina and her husband?”

  “That the weather made a night visit ill-advised.”

  “Irina is Alexei’s sister, Lydia. And my granddaughter,” she added. “She will see through that and be here when you open tomorrow to insist on the whole true story.”

  “Yes, Grandmama, I expect so.” What Natalia said was too true, and now Lydia knew she would have to concoct some version of the truth for Irina. But that was hardly her biggest concern.

  “Why would someone try to steal the recipe, Grandmama? It would be easy enough to name the thief once he began to use the color.”

  “Perhaps he hoped to ruin you. Your reputation could be considered of great value. You are a single woman with your own business, a successful one. In fact, now that your mourning is over, more men than a bully like Nesbitt would be interested in you if you would give them encouragement.”

  Lydia stood up. This was going down a familiar path, and she answered as she always did. “I am not interested in sharing anything with a man, Grandmama.” Lydia did her best to ignore the image of Mr. Chase.

  “You are too young to sleep alone forever. Tell me what this man who rescued you was wearing.”

  “Grandmama, it was dark, I could not see him.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  “A tightly woven, very fine wool. Perfect for a wet night. His greatcoat was made of a heavier wool.”

  Natalia nodded. “He wore it well?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at the unsubtle question.

  “Do not roll your eyes, girl. I am shut up with my imagination all day and little to fuel it. Have pity on me.”

  Lydia smiled and hoped Natalia could sense her affectionate amusement as easily as she could sense her exasperation. “He was tall and had broad shoulders.”

  “Not fat, like the Regent?”

  Lydia thought of the feel of him as he pressed her protectively behind him, sat next to her, held her hand. “No, not at all.”

  “So will he call to see if you are all right?”

  “If he does, I promise I will introduce you.” Lydia kissed Natalia good night and left her with Delphie to see her to bed.

  Once she was in the parlor, Lydia went directly to the window that looked onto the street. Yes, there was a man under the lamppost, arms folded, a white scarf tied loosely around his neck over his bulky coat. Her guardian. No matter what Mr. Chase’s motive was, for now she felt more secure.

  Lydia took her glass of vodka and drank it in one revolting swallow, hoping it would help her sleep. Dreamlessly.

  THREE

  “I met a woman named Mrs. Chernov this evening,” Chase announced as the night porter showed him into Tibold’s card room. “Do any of you know anything about her?”

  The three men looked up from their cards.

  “Do you have a timepiece, Chase? We’ve been waiting almost an hour.” Tibold did not wait for an answer and returned his attention to his cards.

  Chase had never met a man who complained more than Tibold.

  “There’s that shop near the Bull Ring.” Bellwood looked back at his cards. “Could this Mrs. Chernov be married to the owner?”

  “Chernov Drapers.” Griffin straightened. “Yes, I know it. My mother and sister love the place.”

  Chase took a seat and waited for them to finish the hand they were playing. The pile of coins was modest, but the evening was young.

  “Thank you, my man,” Tibold said as he pulled the coins to his side of the table. “I think Bellwood could have won that hand.”

  Bellwood swore as Griffin began to shuffle the cards.

  “So what do you know about Mrs. Chernov, Bellwood?”

  “Not a thing other than she is a beauty and a widow.”

  “I learned that much for myself.”

  “In which case, she might be interested in some consolation,” Griffin suggested, as he finished dealing the cards. He looked at the others. “Care to wager how long before he beds her?”

  “Do you see that scar near my eyebrow, Griff?” Chase picked up his cards but did not look at them.

  All three glanced at him and then at the scar and waited.

  “That convinced me never to bet on anything so personal, and to discourage it in others.”

  Bellwood nodded. Tibold snickered.

  “And what does that mean?” Chase asked, turning his head slowly to stare at Tibold.

  “Only that one hardly expects such niceties from a man with your reputation for bettin
g on everything and anything.”

  “Yes, I do see your point.” Chase relaxed. “If I hadn’t made that foolish wager with Cummings, I would not be stuck in this benighted place for three months.”

  “Only two months to go, Chase,” the always-cheerful Griffin reminded him.

  “Thank you, Griff.”

  “Benighted? You don’t like Birmingham?” Bellwood asked.

  “I’ve found a number of things that hold my interest, but all who play here talk more than they gamble.”

  “You’re the one who came late and interrupted us,” Tibold griped.

  The four settled into several hands, with Tibold still winning steadily. Chase called for higher stakes, which he well knew always made Tibold nervous, and the next round went to Bellwood.

  “So how did you meet Mrs. Chernov?” Bellwood asked, proving that copious amounts of wine might slow his brain but did not keep it from working.

  Chase weighed his answer and opted for the truth. “She ran into my arms escaping from some bully trying to abduct her.”

  Tibold and Bellwood put down their cards. Griffin looked up with a quizzical expression.

  “Hey, hey, details, my lord,” Tibold urged.

  “What was she doing out alone at night? Or was she not alone?”

  He ignored Bellwood’s questions and tried one of his own. “Do any of you know a man named Nesbitt?”

  “A gentleman named Nesbitt?” Tibold asked.

  “Yes, I know him. Nesbitt the Butcher. He’s most definitely not a gentleman.” Griffin looked at Chase for confirmation. When Chase nodded, Griffin went on. “He’s a bully who can be had for the right price. He runs an operation selling stolen items. He’s moving down in the underworld if he’s taken on abduction.”

  It was what Chase suspected, but before he could pursue the subject, Tibold spoke as he stacked the counters. “Are we going to play cards or spend the rest of the night embroiled in one of Chase’s affairs?”

  “I just met the woman, and it is not an affair,” Chase clarified, well aware of Mrs. Chernov’s good reputation. “I was very much the gentleman helping a lady in distress.”