“Mr. Chase, please leave him unconscious. Your needs come first, and we must send someone for the magistrate.”
“No, Mrs. Chernov, go inside if you do not have the stomach for this. I want answers and I want them now.” He looked at her over his shoulder and read shock in her eyes. “I promise you that after this conversation, Nesbitt will not bother you again.”
“That is what I’m afraid of,” she said, clutching the chain at her neck.
“Yes, I am angry enough to run him through, but I have learned control, I assure you.” As he spoke he gathered up his sword stick.
“Thank you.” She let go of her necklace and stepped back but did not go inside.
So be it, Chase thought. He nudged Nesbitt harder this time, and when the man opened bleary eyes, Chase swung his sword dramatically and stopped it just before it sliced Nesbitt’s throat.
“I want to know two things, Nesbitt, and I want the answers now. Do you understand?”
Nesbitt didn’t answer, and Chase pressed sword to skin so that a thin trickle of blood appeared.
“Yes, yes, move that sword away from my throat and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
Chase could have sworn he saw tears in Nesbitt’s eyes, but they drew no mercy from him. Chase’s arm hurt like hell, as if he needed a reminder of the kind of trouble this man could cause.
He moved his sword and Nesbitt drew a breath, but when Chase let the point rest over Nesbitt’s heart, the sneak thief tensed again.
“Tell me who hired you and what they want.”
“I don’t know. I swear on the Bible I don’t know the man’s name. He was wearing a hood when we met. All I know is he had a foreign accent.”
“What kind of accent?”
“A Russian accent. I think that’s what it was because that woman’s name is Chernov and that’s a Russian name, isn’t it?”
If Lydia had not been standing nearby he would have used language that would surely impress Nesbitt. Dealing with a stupid thief had its advantages. But drawing out accurate information was not one of them. “So you actually aren’t sure what kind of foreign accent it was?”
“No, but there aren’t that many foreigners in Birmingham.”
Chase tried to imagine stopping everyone who spoke with an accent and questioning them. “And what did this person with an accent want?”
“He told me to tell the woman that he wanted what she valued most. A necklace.”
“What?”
Chase had to agree with Mrs. Chernov’s single word. That made no sense. All of this for a necklace?
“He said it was her greatest treasure, and she would know what he meant, and he would have it from her by any means necessary.”
Chase glanced back at Lydia. She was holding the chain she seemed to wear all the time. She shook her head, looking intent and determined. “I have only one necklace and it has no value beyond sentiment.”
“You may or may not be telling the truth, Nesbitt.” Chase pressed the sword to his cheek and drew blood. “I am tempted to brand you here and now.”
Lydia gasped and Chase nodded. “But since it would upset Mrs. Chernov, I will allow you this. Listen to me. You make the circuit to your work, your home, and your favorite coffeehouse. You go nowhere else. I will know with whom you meet or if you go anywhere other than those three places. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Nesbitt whispered, finally cowed.
“If you violate this order, I will find you and brand you a thief in a way that will announce itself to the world forever. Do you believe me?”
Nesbitt nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
“If anyone else comes after Mrs. Chernov’s most treasured necklace or hurts anyone I care about, I will destroy your shop and you. I have more resources in more places than you can imagine, and I will use every one of them to find and kill you. And I promise you, the magistrate will bless me for it.”
Nesbitt gulped and said, “Aye.”
Chase removed his sword and waited until the beaten man struggled to his feet. Nesbitt began to back down the alley, apparently afraid that Chase would save himself the trouble of hunting him down and end it now. When Nesbitt was beyond the reach of Chase’s sword, he turned, hurried out of the alley and out of sight.
The pain in Chase’s arm sang out then, and he almost dropped his sword as a wave of light-headedness overtook him.
“Mr. Chase, you are hurt!”
Chase shook his head, unable to speak for the moment. He scooped up his walking stick and sheathed his sword on the second try and then remembered that he had not cleaned the blade.
Lydia was beside him now. She reached out to touch his arm but then stopped.
“You hurt your arm?”
“Broken.” He gasped as his vision began to darken.
“Do not faint,” Lydia commanded. “I cannot carry you. Come inside and I will give you some vodka and send for a bonesetter.”
Chase groaned at the thought of anyone handling his arm, but her urgent tone reached him and his need to collapse faded just a little. Lydia took his good arm and much of his weight. They moved through the outside door. He paid no attention to the route she followed but an eternity later he was sitting on what felt like a very soft chair—or was it a bed?
“I will be back in a minute with some vodka.”
Chase leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. At least it was his left arm. He would not be completely helpless.
“Mr. Chase?”
He opened his eyes a little to find Lydia seated beside him, a small glass in her hand.
“This is vile but as good a medicine as I have right now. Shall I help you with the glass?”
He shook his head, took the small glass, and downed the vodka in one gulp. It burned, but the taste was not vile, just different. Very Russian, he decided, and laughed a little.
“There is nothing funny about this situation.”
He turned to her. She was pale—or was it just the weak candlelight that made her look so lost? She was clutching her chain, which left him in no doubt of her upset.
“I will be all right.” Eventually, he added to himself.
“How badly is it broken?”
“It did not break the skin.”
“Thank God, Mr. Chase. I suppose it could be worse.” She stared at the sleeve of his coat. Lydia looked as ill as he felt, her hand now tightly gripping the charm at the end of her necklace. When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears.
“As gallant as your defense was, I so wish you had not broken your arm.” She spoke with such urgency that he found himself forgetting the pain as he tried to think of a way to comfort her.
“I cannot think of a more worthy reason to risk life and limb.” He closed the small space between them and pressed his mouth to hers. It was hardly a kiss at first, but the feel of her lips, soft and willing, the warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest, fired his blood so that he wanted more than sweetness. Even as the feeling raced through him, truly less than a thought, he felt her mouth open to his, her response given willingly with, he hoped, the same welcome impulse that had him pulling her into his arms. A light enveloped them, so bright he saw it through his closed eyes, followed by a warmth that surrounded them until the heat made Chase draw back to see if she felt the same.
Lydia’s dazed expression changed in a blink to one of concern. “Your arm, sir, your arm. It must be paining you awfully to have me pressed so close.”
“The pain is gone.” He wasn’t lying or trivializing the injury. His arm could not have been broken, not if it felt so pain free now.
They both looked down at his arm. He was no longer cradling it protectively against his chest. His hand rested casually on his thigh.
“You are pretending,” she said without much conviction.
“I am not. You saw me almost pass out from the pain. You had to help me in here.”
“Perhaps you dislocated your shoulder. Yes, that must be it
.”
“And kissing you caused it to pop back into place? I have seen it done before, and one screams with the pain of it. Our kiss exceeded all my expectations, though I will say that it ended too soon, but even that fine a kiss could not distract me so much I would not feel my shoulder right itself.”
Chase could see Lydia’s cheeks grow pink, and she did not look at him as she spoke. “Could the vodka have deadened the pain enough that you did not feel it?”
“Whatever the reason, the pain is virtually gone.”
He took the scissors sitting on the table closest and cut the coat from wrist to elbow.
Lydia gasped.
“One coat is easily replaced.”
“But it is such fine fabric, Mr. Chase. What a waste.”
“Of course you would think the fabric not worth my curiosity.” As he spoke he pulled back his shirtsleeve. “My apologies for being so impulsive.”
His arm was bruised a vicious dark purple. He touched the spot and grimaced. “I will have a fine bruise but nothing that will even slow me down. I suppose it was not broken.”
Lydia stood up and Chase did as well. She folded her hands at her waist and might as well have shouted, Do not come any closer!
With the slightest encouragement he would have taken her on this cot and been sure that she enjoyed it as much as he did. But he was a patient man with a prize worth waiting for. He wanted more than the luscious body before him. A lifetime of experience had taught him that lovemaking was best shared with body, spirit, and mind.
Chase bowed, to assure her that he could take a hint, but was not willing to lie. “I would never wish to give offense, Mrs. Chernov, but I find I cannot apologize for that kiss, as forward as it was.”
“Then I will be honest as well,” she said, her stern mouth softening, even if she did not actually smile. Curtsying, she went on, “You had best leave, Mr. Chase.”
Aha, so she was tempted more than she wanted to admit. He tried not to grin and moved promptly to the back door. “I am going to check on Nesbitt.”
“Do not go alone!”
“I will not, if only to make sure you do not worry. I want to know if he’s doing exactly as I ordered and I would very much want him to see that my arm is not at all injured.”
“Pride goeth before a fall, Mr. Chase.”
“Well, in this case the fall came before the pride, so I should be all right, don’t you think?”
She shook her head at his joke but smiled a little. Soon he could have her laughing, he was sure of it. It would be something to which he would look forward. “I will continue with the guards for a night or two.”
“Oh please, I hate to think of men and boys denied their sleep because of me.”
“They have plenty of time to sleep during the day. They think it an adventure, especially the boys.”
“I’ve thought more than once that you are a bit of a bully yourself, Mr. Chase.”
“I prefer to think of myself as thorough, though perhaps just a bit stubborn.” Not wanting to see her smile disappear, he bowed again. “Good night, Mrs. Chernov. Whether it was the kiss or the vodka or some other magic, I thank you for your ministrations this evening.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the early-morning light, waiting to hear her lock the door from the inside.
Lydia leaned her head against the locked door. It was ridiculous, but she was more upset by the kiss than by Nesbitt’s attempt at breaking into the shop. Not the kiss so much as the temptation, the longing, the desperate need to give more and take as much as he wanted to give. Not even with Alexei had she felt so wanton. She stood without thought and then realized the difference between Alexei and Mr. Chase.
Alexei had seduced her, hardly giving her time to think before he swept her up into his world of love and family. Alexei had made it impossible to refuse.
Mr. Chase charmed her. He flirted but he never once pressed her for more than she was ready to give. Mr. Chase understood that “no” was not an insult. She played with the coin around her neck and wondered if he would always be that understanding.
The sound of footsteps made Lydia straighten. Delphie was up and about her business. The last thing Lydia wanted was for the maid to have hysterics over the attempted robbery.
Lydia flung herself on the cot and turned to face the wall, feigning sleep. When she was first alone she had often fallen asleep here, fully dressed, until she realized that no matter when she climbed the stairs and went to her own bed, Alexei would not be there.
Delphie came into the back room humming, unlocked the door, and slipped out to collect the breakfast rolls from Mr. Florencio. She didn’t even notice that Lydia was in the room.
Taking advantage of her absence, Lydia hurried up the stairs and into her bedchamber. Even though Delphie had been in to start the fire, the curtains were still drawn around her bed. Lydia climbed into the big empty bed and for the first time in more than a year thought about sharing it with someone besides Alexei.
The moment before she slipped into the world of dreams she heard the word wish whisper through the room, beneath the curtains, and settle on the pillow beside her. This time the word brought with it an air of completion, of satisfaction, of farewell. Lydia smiled and touched the coin as she fell asleep.
SEVEN
“I tell you, Griff, I would have bet fifty quid that my arm was broken. God, it was all I could do to stay conscious.” Chase was flexing his fist and shaking his arm as the two of them headed from Griffin’s house toward the street where Nesbitt lived and worked.
“I’m no expert on bones, Chase, but I could ask my mother’s physician for an explanation.”
“I spoke to Lord Mayhew at the club this morning. He’s as good a man of science as any physician. He said that I had to be mistaken about the break. I was in pain from the blow and merely thought I had broken my arm.”
“That makes as much sense as any other explanation.”
“It makes me sound like a girl. I’ve been boxing for years and can take a hit as well as any man.” There was no point in insisting, but the puzzle of it plagued him. “Never mind, Griff. Tell me what Nesbitt has been up to while I caught up on my sleep.”
“He was home until noon and then went to his shop, where he took a strap to his apprentice, and then left for the coffeehouse next door. He growled at everyone who approached him and was sitting in the corner when the boys came along to take up watch.”
“Good, very good. It sounds like he took my threat as seriously as I meant it.” Chase knocked on the roof, and the carriage slowed to a stop. “We walk from here.”
“Chase,” Griffin began as he hefted himself up and out of the carriage, “exactly why are we going there now? I thought you were satisfied with my report.”
Twirling his walking stick with his only-bruised arm, Chase explained, “Very much so, Griff. No insult intended, but I want Nesbitt to see that I suffered no injury. I want him to see that you are one of the resources I warned him about last night. I want him to think that every stranger he sees is one of my resources.” He paused and Griffin nodded, laughing at the game.
“And I want to relieve him of his apprentice. The boy has learned all he can from Nesbitt.”
“I say, Chase, that’s a noble move, but he may not give him up easily. From my observations, I think the boy’s the only reason he stays in business.”
“I will offer him another apprentice. Ronald, I think.”
“Yes, Ronald shows some talent there.” Griffin thought a minute, then laughed with pleasure. “Nesbitt will not dare abuse him, since he knows Ronald is one of your, ahem, resources.”
“Exactly, and near enough his size to give Nesbitt pause before beating him.”
All in all, it went even better than Chase had hoped. Nesbitt was willing to hand over his apprentice and accept a new one, especially when Chase told him there would be no fee to change hands, that he’d made arrangements with the guild himself.
The only
aspect that Nesbitt found hard to believe was that Chase had not broken his arm. “Virtue rewarded,” Chase suggested, and Nesbitt all but spit his ale across the table.
“You, virtuous?” Nesbitt shook his head. “No more than I am, only better dressed.”
Chase prayed that wasn’t true, but left Nesbitt thinking what he liked. He had convinced more than one former adversary to join his ranks, but he doubted Nesbitt would ever be so inclined.
Just as he was congratulating himself on a more than successful outing, Griffin burst his bubble of complacency.
“My mother and sister plan to visit Mrs. Chernov today.”
“Why?”
“Because she has shades of purple cloth like no other. And possibly they are intrigued because I may have mentioned that you had helped her out of a predicament.” Griffin had the grace to look sheepish at his uncharacteristic storytelling.
“For all that is good, Griff! That’s the last thing I need.”
It was Griffin’s turn to ask, “Why?”
“Because she thinks I’m simply Mr. Chase. She has no idea that I’m related to the Duke of Bournemouth.”
Griffin nodded but looked puzzled. “I don’t see how that’s an insult.”
“Because you are not a lady shopkeeper.” He rubbed his brow and wondered what Lydia Chernov would make of the information. “Speaking to a Mr. Chase, perhaps even taking tea with him, would be risqué enough, but to do the same with Lord Chase would invite all sorts of unwelcome speculation.”
“Huh. I know the niceties of behavior, but she is only a shopkeeper, Chase. Do the same rules apply?”
“Yes, for her they do. I am not at all sure she is ‘only a shopkeeper.’ She has at least as many secrets as I do.” He thought for a long moment before he spoke again. “Griff, what would you say is your most valued possession?”
“That’s easy. My mother and my sister.” Then he frowned. “But then they would be offended if I called them such.”
“So, some thing you treasure above all else.”
The Unquiet Page 15