Chapter Seven
Jake and Olivia took their tea sitting opposite one another in matching chairs in front of his library fire. It felt natural to have her share his private domain; just as pulling her into his arms had been a spontaneous reaction to seeing her safe and well. Jake never behaved spontaneously as a general rule. In his line of work it would be a grave miscalculation. Spontaneity got men killed. Letting any organ other than his brain do the thinking for him could—already had—placed Olivia in danger.
‘Are we really going to go through those stuffy papers, Jake?’ she asked, her colour still high after his kiss and her gratifyingly enthusiastic response to it. ‘I very much doubt if Marcus would have left anything of value lying about in the house.’
‘I thought the boxes contained documents he had stored away in his library.’
‘Yes, I had someone pack them all up when we moved.’
‘Well, there you are then. You cannot say with certainty what the boxes contain.’
She gave a reluctant nod. ‘I suppose not.’
He smiled across at her, admiring her beauty and the touching air of vulnerability she exuded as she stirred her tea and took a dainty sip. The tight bodice and high neckline of her blue gown did little to disguise her trim waist and the enticing swell of her breasts. The visual evidence of his physical desire had still not completely subsided but he didn’t mind if she saw it. He wanted her to know just how inconvenient his passion for her could be, and how little control he had over it. He thought she did know, but what she seemed unwilling or unable to grasp was that his reluctance to put his own pleasures first was a direct result of the very real threat it could represent to her wellbeing.
‘Anyway, I rather hoped that you would go through the boxes on your own.’
‘Oh no!’ She fixed him with a look of firm determination. ‘I think I have earned the right to accompany you when you make your enquiries.’
‘Indeed you have,’ he replied with a smile drenched in warmth. ‘And you shall, if that is what you would prefer, but before you decide, let us take a moment to think about what we now know.’
‘By all means.’ Her own smile held a hint of mischief. ‘Are you really going to tell me everything you actually know or continue with the ridiculous notion that I require protecting?’
‘I will always protect you, Olivia, to the very best of my abilities. Please don’t expect me to apologise for that.’
‘I know you will.’ She placed her cup aside and leaned towards him, caressing him with her eyes so intently that Jake was obliged to suppress a groan. ‘I have total faith in your abilities. However, we were about to take stock.’
‘So we were.’ Jake took a moment to compose his thoughts, or at the very least, to drag his mind away from recollections of Olivia’s curvaceous body spread against his own. Even through all those hoops, whalebones and petticoats, he had sensed the moment when his engorged cock created a maelstrom of pleasure and torment within her that she had yet to recover from. Now she understood the frustration that he was obliged to withstand whenever in her company, or even just thinking about her. If she was uncomfortable now, she only had herself to blame for being so damned provocative that she made him forget himself. ‘Firstly, your brother-in-law has gone missing. At about the same time, someone broke into Barber’s theatrical agency office and a night watchman was killed as a direct result.’
‘You think the two events are connected?’
‘Possibly, especially since your husband was killed in a similar burglary, at a time when your house was supposed to be empty, the servants mostly in bed or below stairs. It is possible, I suppose, that Sir Hubert has simply absconded because his situation has become untenable.’
‘And left Margaret to face the bailiffs?’ Jake nodded. ‘Doubtful. He enjoys being Sir Hubert a little too much. But still…if he has debts of honour that would see him blackballed from his clubs if he does not settle them, then I suppose absconding might seem preferable to public disgrace. But where would he go if he has no money?’
‘Perhaps he has.’ Jake crossed one foot over his opposite knee and leaned back in his chair. ‘Can you remember what paintings hung in their hallway?’
Olivia blinked, clearly surprised by the question. ‘There was a Gainsborough, I do remember that.’ She plucked abstractedly at her lower lip. ‘And a couple of other valuable works, but I can’t remember who the artists were.’
‘Drop a note to Lady Grantley, if you would. Ask her which paintings have been sold and how long ago.’
‘Why? Surely you don’t think that Hubert has pocketed the proceeds and run off.’
Jake suspected exactly that, but had no proof. ‘What I think doesn’t signify,’ he said. ‘We need to deal in facts.’
‘Very well. I know the paintings were still there when I lasted visit the Hall, which is obviously over two years ago. But still, Hubert was very proud of them. He pointed them out to everyone who called at the Hall and would not have parted with them until he was desperate.’
‘Ah, but how desperate? That is what we need to establish.’
‘Very well. I will write to Margaret straight away.’
‘Thank you. Now then, I am still sure that whatever has resulted in two murders is of immense value to someone.’
‘Clearly, but I cannot begin to imagine what it might be.’ She sent Jake a sultry smile that played havoc with his recently regained composure. ‘The boxes,’ she said with a resigned shrug. ‘I do see their significance now, I suppose.’
‘With regard to Sir Hubert, I shall go to the Garrick Club this morning and make enquiries myself about the mysterious A.C. You are welcome to accompany me. I also plan to visit Barber.’
‘Why?’
‘I am curious to know why all of your husband’s clients stayed with him. Some of them are very well known and highly regarded. Barber has connections, but from what Parker has been able to ascertain, they are not nearly as good as some of his competitors. The Music Hall has made theatre accessible for all classes of society and treading the boards is no longer considered to be a disreputable profession; quite the reverse in fact, hence the spawning of so many more agents over the past few years. I will say one thing for your husband: he saw which way the wind blew early on and was not afraid to take risks.’
‘You think whatever was the cause of Marcus’s death also persuaded his clients to remain true to his agency?’
Jake nodded. ‘Which implies that Barber inherited that toxic something. Hence, the break-in orchestrated perhaps by one of the actors tired of being restricted to a small agency.’
Olivia gasped. ‘You think Marcus blackmailed his clients into remaining with him?’
‘Do you think him capable of doing so?’
‘There is little I would not think him capable of,’ Olivia replied slowly. ‘Even so, I hope you are not right. If you are, I must live with the knowledge that the father of my child was a blackmailer.’
‘I should not have mentioned it.’ Jake scowled. ‘Forgive me. I can see that the possibility upsets you. Of course it does.’
‘Hubert worked with Marcus,’ Olivia replied, waving Jake’s apology aside. ‘If there was blackmail involved, he probably knew about it and had ample opportunity to take the offending material and use it for his own purposes.’
‘But we know he did not do so; otherwise he wouldn’t be in sure dire financial straits.’
‘Indeed, and since, for once, you have deigned to share your thoughts with me, I shall be happy to remain here and go through the boxes whilst you go off and ask your questions.’
‘Thank you.’ Jake inclined his head, doing his best not to smile because he had found a way to make her do as he asked. ‘Concentrate on any files he has for his leading ladies and gentlemen. Specifically Verity Aspin, Michael Danton and Cecelia Fortescue.’
‘I don’t think I will find anything, Jake.’ Olivia shook her curls to reinforce her point. ‘Hubert took over the house in Belgravia whilst I was incarcerated, probably assuming he would be able to reside there in his guise as Tom’s guardian when I was hanged for a crime I did not commit.’ She looked angry and upset. ‘Anyway, as I said before, he had access to all of Marcus’s things. I am perfectly sure he helped himself to a lot of valuable trinkets that I have not been able to find since my release.’
‘And yet he did not find what he was looking for. If he did, it follows it is not him who has been looking for it now. And if he does have it, he has not used it to his advantage. I find that hard to believe because we know just how hard pressed he is.’
‘Perhaps he has been abducted because whoever is looking for this mythical evidence thinks he knows where it is, or can gain access to it.’ She paled. ‘Through me.’
Jake nodded, his expression grim. ‘Precisely.’
If he expected Olivia to wilt at this discovery, he was to be disappointed. Instead, she considered the matter for a moment and then brightened considerably.
‘You are quite wrong, Jake. Goodness alone knows, I have no love for Hubert or Margaret. They thought Marcus becoming a theatrical agent would undermine the Grantley name and the family’s standing in the eyes of the aristocracy. They really are the most frightful snobs and care only about society’s opinion of them.’ Olivia made it clear what she thought of that attitude by wrinkling her pert little nose. ‘They applied to me, hoping that I would support them and try and persuade Marcus to have a change of heart. I declined, aware that he wouldn’t listen to me—even if I agreed that his occupation was unfitting, which I did not. Times are changing and those who do not change with them will be left behind. Anyway, Margaret accused me of…well, let us just say that she and I have never seen eye to eye.’
‘That I can easily understand.’
‘When Hubert saw how well Marcus was doing, he changed his tune, but Margaret never did. Anyway, my point is that even if someone is holding Hubert against his will, I am convinced Margaret doesn’t know about it. She is not good at dissembling and I can tell that her distress for Hubert is genuine. Whether it’s because she truly cares, or just doesn’t want to be abandoned with a mountain of debt and become an object of pity in the society’s eyes, I neither know nor care. All I mean to imply is that Hubert’s mythical kidnapper could not be sure that Margaret would come to me in her hour of need. Indeed, anyone within her circle will not hear her say a good word about me and I would likely be her last port of call.’
‘But you were not; that is what I keep coming back to. I agree with your opinion of her. She represents everything that I most dislike in a woman of her ilk.’
‘And yet she has been compelled to swallow her pride.’ Olivia chuckled. ‘She probably thinks she will be tainted beyond redemption by contact with me.’
‘Such a scarlet woman,’ Jake said in a teasing tone, shaking his head in mock dismay.
‘You will do well to remember it,’ she replied playfully. ‘When one is not trying to maintain a position, one is free to do and say what one pleases. It is really quite liberating.’
‘You do not fool me, Olivia.’
‘I am not attempting to fool anyone. I simply speak as I find.’ She leaned her elbow on her knee and her chin on her clenched fist. ‘Why the gap of over two years between Marcus’s death and the resumption of the search for this evidence you seem convinced exists?’
‘That I have yet to decide, but I agree with you, it is puzzling.’
‘You have not forgotten about Tom’s ship?’ she asked, her expression sobering.
‘Certainly I have not. Parker is already on his way to Pollock’s to try and ascertain who ordered the ship to be delivered to you.’
She sent him a sultry smile that failed to disguise her relief. ‘Thank you.’
He reached across the space that separated them and briefly touched her hand. ‘You are entirely welcome. There is every chance that the toy was sent to you by one of my enemies and has nothing to do with the business we are engaged with.’
‘Thank you for trying to reassure me, but we both know that is unlikely.’ A fine tremor rocked her body. ‘I hate the idea that someone has been watching me.’
‘You and Tom are safe here, and we shall soon discover who is trying to unnerve you. Never doubt it.’
‘I am sure you will.’
‘I considered returning your husband’s boxes to Cheyne Walk, once we have searched them of course, and waiting to see if anyone tries to get to them whilst you are here in Grosvenor Square.’
Olivia nodded. ‘That might be effective. That is why you wanted us to make it so obvious we were leaving on a trip, I suppose.’
‘Yes, and as you say, the plan might have worked, but I have decided against it. We know that the thugs who killed your husband were hired by someone else; someone who had hidden his identity behind several layers of intermediaries and whom the killers could not give up because they didn’t know who he was.’
‘And so, by laying a trap for them, we would be showing our hand for no good reason?’
‘And by not doing so, we will prevent your home from being violated.’
‘I would not mind that if I thought it would see an end to this business.’ Olivia rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, as though trying to ward off a headache. ‘Poor Margaret. I never thought the day would come when the difficult woman would elicit my sympathy, but still, I cannot help feeling sorry for her. It is not her fault if she was brought up to consider herself superior to the rest of us.’
‘Save your sympathy, Olivia. If the situation was reversed, you would not have got past her front door.’
Olivia tilted her head and flashed a wry smile. ‘You are right, of course. You often are. It is one of your most aggravating traits.’
The corners of Jake’s mouth curled indolently. ‘Anyway, we have other avenues to explore before we consider inviting burglars into your home. I have sent another footman round to Cheyne Walk to support Finch. I have told them to make their presence obvious so that anyone thinking of breaking in has second thoughts. Parker also has people watching for watchers, if you see what I mean.’
‘I think I see perfectly. Rather than capture the would-be burglars, you intend to have them followed and see where they lead you.’
‘It seems like a more logical approach.’
They had finished their tea and Olivia made shooing motions with her hands. ‘Off you go to ask your questions, Jake. I have boxes to sort through.’
‘Until later.’ He stood, raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. ‘I have not forgotten that we did not conclude our earlier conversation, but that might be better deferred until we have resolved this wretched business and are without distractions.’
҉
You distract me. The thought span through Olivia’s head on a continuous loop as she watched him leave the room. He turned back to look at her over his shoulder, smiling that somnolent, suggestive smile of his that never failed to agitate her passions. She remained in her chair, her own smile gracing her lips as she thought of their recent exchange. She was convinced that Jake had not intended to kiss her and had done so because he couldn’t help himself. Jake losing control of his…well, of his iron self-control. Now that really did give her cause for optimism.
They would complete their conversation regarding their future together—if there was the slightest possibility of their having one—before she left this house; on that score she was fiercely determined. If they did not, she would not put it past Jake to disappear again for weeks at a time and her nerves simply could not withstand another prolonged separation—at least before she knew what was in his heart. Really, he was such a dolt. She had seen him in dangerous situations on several occasions and he had always remained calmly, dispassionately in control. Fearless. And yet, when it came to her, he was reduced to an indecisive contradiction in which passion warred with duty; instinct with caution, no clear winner in evidence.
‘We shall just have to see about that, Lord Torbay,’ she said aloud.
Thus resolved, Olivia stood and made her way towards the table beneath the window that contained her husband’s boxes. Before she started looking through them, she quickly penned a note to Margaret about the missing paintings. She rang the bell and asked the footman who answered it to have the letter sent immediately. If Margaret replied by return they could expect a response as early as third post the next day.
With that duty performed, Olivia sat down and emptied one of the boxes onto the table. Its contents spilled in all directions; an avalanche of paper that, from her initial examination, appeared to have nothing in common other than the fact that it all pertained to the original establishment of Marcus’s management agency. That could be important, Olivia decided, so she reined in her wandering attention and sorted through the papers more methodically, stopping to read every document. There were several from actors declining his offer of representation. And…oh sweet lord, highly inflammatory love letters from a famous actress whom Marcus did not represent—well, not professionally. Their relationship had been of a decidedly more intimate nature.
‘Further proof that Marcus was not true to me,’ Olivia said aloud, even though no proof had been necessary. He had made no effort to hide the fact that he enjoyed his pleasures with other women; he even seemed annoyed when she showed no jealousy.
But why keep these letters? She tapped one of them against the side of the table; blushing as she considered its graphic contents, wondering if some of the activities it described were actually physically possible. She chuckled. Jake would know. Olivia was aware that the lady in question had made an advantageous marriage a year or so before Olivia was destined to languish in a prison cell and had promptly quit the stage. Could it be that Jake was right and Marcus really was a blackmailer? If so, the contents of those letters would have kept him in vintage claret for years. The lady’s husband might accept that she had consorted with men before her marriage but would not want such explosive written accounts of those trysts appearing in the public domain.
Why had Hubert not taken these letters? Green was the only servant whom she had brought with her from Belgravia and it was him she had charged with packing up Marcus’s papers. She made a note to ask him where he had found these particular ones. Presumably Marcus had hiding places that Green knew of—what good butler was unaware of such secrets in the household he ran?—and Hubert did not.
Olivia continued to sift through the papers diligently. The only other items of interest in this particular box was correspondence from Madame Céleste regarding Marcus’s management of actors billed to appear at the Adelphi. It seemed that Madame Céline Céleste had used her influence to push actors into accepting Marcus’s management, in return for him putting financial backing into some of her productions. But had she not achieved fame and fortune as a dancer, adored in America, before returning to Europe and becoming and actress, then theatre manager? Why would she enter into such an arrangement with Marcus, or had the original suggestion come from him? It was hard to tell when she only had Madame Céleste’s side of their correspondence available to her. Olivia would have to ask Jake how theatres obtained backers. He would probably know the answer to that, as well.
She reached the end of the first box. One pile of documents was for the fire, which is where she placed them, watching as the flames curled around the sides of the paper and incinerated them with a loud whooshing sound as sparks flew up the chimney. The second pile was for Jake to look through, including the inflammatory love letters from Miss Emily Black, now Lady Marchant. By far the smallest pile contained a few pieces she felt she ought to keep—personal letters received by Marcus that had nothing to do with his business affairs but which Tom might want to see when he was older. Olivia could look at them with detachment and unmitigated relief—not because Marcus was dead, she was not quite that cynical—but because he was no longer a part of her life.
Olivia stood up and stretched. As she did so she heard shouts of laughter coming from the garden. She looked through the window and saw two of Jake’s footmen playing cricket, of sorts, with Tom. Jane stood to one side, laughing and encouraging as Tom wielded a bat almost as tall as he was. One footman bowled a gentle ball, Tom swung the bat with both hands, and missed the ball completely. The second footman fielded it and the process was repeated. At the third attempt, Tom made connection with the ball and everyone cheered; Tom the loudest of all. Olivia laughed, wondering who was having more fun—Tom or Jake’s footmen.
The door opened behind her and Parker stood there.
‘My son seems to have disrupted the entire household,’ she said. ‘I apologise for that.’
Parker laughed. ‘A boy’s never too young for cricket, or for fighting.’
‘Oh, don’t encourage him in that regard, I beg of you.’
‘Not me, ma’am, but I expect he’ll learn soon enough how to defend himself the moment he goes off to school. It’s what boys instinctively do.’
‘I prefer not to think about that yet. He is still my baby.’ Olivia resumed her seat. ‘What did you learn at Pollock’s?’
‘The ship was not commissioned especially for Tom. It was on display in Pollock’s shop. A maid came in, asked to see it, deemed it suitable and asked for it to be delivered to your address in Chelsea that same day. She paid in cash and didn’t give a name.’
‘Was the person you spoke to able to describe the maid? I did not send anyone and Lord Torbay assures me that he did not.’ Olivia tried not to panic. Targeting her was one thing, but playing games with her by singling out her young son was entirely another. ‘Who could it have been?’
‘The description doesn’t help much, I’m afraid. A woman of middle-years, wearing a maid’s uniform and a bonnet that covered her hair. The assistant said there were several other customers in the shop at the time and he didn’t pay her much attention.’
‘Thank you, Parker. I suppose we shall never find out anything more than that, unless the person behind it all wants us to.’ She emptied a second box onto the table. ‘I suppose I had better continue with my search for clues.’
‘Ring if you need anything,’ Parker replied.
‘Oh, actually Parker, there is something.’ Olivia told him that she had found inflammatory letters addressed to her husband. ‘Jake thinks my husband was a blackmailer.’
‘He told me,’ Parker replied. ‘You’re wondering, I suppose, why Sir Hubert didn’t take those letters.’
‘Quite.’
Parker whistled through his teeth when Olivia handed him one if the letters and he scanned its contents.
‘I need someone to go round to Cheyne Walk and ask Green where he found these documents when he packed up my husband’s papers. For my own peace of mind, I’d like to know if there were secret hiding places that Green knew about. If there were not, I am convinced that Hubert would have read these letters. If he did not take them, it implies that he behaved honourably.’ Olivia curled her upper lip derisively. ‘Somehow I doubt it, but we ought to give him the benefit of that doubt until we know otherwise.’
‘I’ll go and talk to Green myself,’ Parker said, returning the letter to her. ‘Didn’t know that was possible,’ he added, grinning.
‘Thank you, Parker,’ Olivia replied, aware that her face was flaming.
‘Although,’ Parker added, his hand on the door as he turned back to face her. ‘Why wouldn’t Green have mentioned the hiding places to you, if he knew about them?’
Olivia shrugged. ‘I had just come out of prison. The last thing I wanted to know about was Marcus’s affairs, if you follow my meaning, seeing as they had almost cost me my life. Perhaps Green did try to speak to me on the matter but I preferred not to hear him. I was not myself at the time. I had a lot of adjustments to make.’
‘I understand.’
Parker nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He had not been gone above a minute when there was another tap at the door. Upon bidding the caller to enter, Olivia looked up and was surprised to see Molly standing there.
‘Yes, Molly, what is it?’
‘Excuse me, ma’am, but I wanted to know if it would inconvenience you if I changed my afternoon off this week.’
‘Which afternoon do you require instead?’ Normally Olivia would have agreed without demur, but Molly had done nothing recently to earn Olivia’s cooperation.
‘Actually,’ Molly replied, shuffling her feet awkwardly. ‘Today.’
‘Today? You have an engagement this afternoon and only thought to mention it now? I pride myself on being a tolerant mistress, Molly, but cannot help thinking you are exploiting my good nature.’
‘I…I meant to ask yesterday, but then there was the upset over Master Tom’s boat, and arrangements to make for this sudden move, and it clean went out of my head.’ She twisted her hands together. ‘It’s awful important to me, madam.’
‘What do you intend to do if I give you the afternoon off?’
‘It’s Mr Graves, ma’am.’
‘Your curate.’ Olivia bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling at the appropriateness of the clergyman’s name. He was totally humourless and lacked compassion; grave in every sense of the word.
Molly nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the floor. ‘He is starting a bible study class for the benefit of fallen young women, so that they will see the error of their ways. He’s very tolerant in that regard because he knows the good Lord will forgive sinners if they repent.’
‘You have not fallen from the path of righteousness, have you, Molly?’
Finally Molly looked directly at Olivia, anger flashing through her eyes. ‘Absolutely not!’
Olivia valiantly held back another smile. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so.’
‘Mr Graves wants me to help him, and I said I would.’
Olivia raised a brow. ‘Without first referring the matter to me?’
Molly shuffled and said nothing.
‘Oh, very well. Have your afternoon and enjoy it. You have probably earned the pleasure.’
‘Thank you, madam. Shall you manage?’
‘Jane is very capable of taking care of my needs, thank you.’ Olivia was aware that Molly felt threatened by Jane, who could read and write far more competently than Molly and was willing to turn her hand to any occupation with a cheerfulness that did not come naturally to Molly. ‘You might as well go now, if it’s so important to you.’
‘Thank you, madam.’
Molly bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Olivia watched her go, hoping that as Mr Graves had petitioned Molly’s help he might also be on the point of proposing to her. Olivia would see the girl go with gladness in her heart.