Heirs and Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 2) Page 6

  The girl stepped awkwardly from the carriage, looked up at the façade of Olivia’s town house and gasped.

  ‘It’s a great deal finer than anywhere I’ve ever lived, ma’am. I am that grateful to you. I’m sure I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.’

  ‘You will be quite safe here, Mabel, until Lord Torbay has managed to get to the bottom of this matter. Now come along.’ She took the girl’s arm and helped her up the steps. The door was opened to them by Molly, Olivia’s long-serving maid. ‘Molly, this is Mabel. She will be living with us for a while. Can you find her somewhere to sleep please?’

  Molly treated Edith to a swift appraisal, followed by a kindly smile. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’

  ‘Hello, who do we have here?’ Eva asked, walking into the vestibule.

  ‘A guest,’ Olivia replied. ‘Mabel, this is Lady Eva Woodstock. You will meet her little girl Gracie momentarily, along with my own son.’

  ‘Hello Mabel,’ Eva said.

  Mabel bobbed an awkward curtsey and seemed glad when Molly ushered her up the stairs.

  ‘Good heavens,’ Eva said, watching her go. ‘What has Jake got you into this time?’

  ‘He is coming to dinner this evening and I dare say all will be revealed. In the meantime, other than knowing that Mabel fell victim to Henry Armitage’s questionable charms, I am as much in the dark as you are.’

  ‘Ah, the Armitages again.’

  ‘Quite. Now you must excuse me, I have left myself short of time to change for dinner.’

  Eva smiled. ‘And naturally, you wish to look your very best for Lord Torbay.’

  ‘Oh, stop it!’

  Olivia laughed as she ran up the stairs as fast as her wide skirts would permit.

  ‘Which gown, ma’am?’ Molly asked, entering the room to find Olivia standing in front of the open doors to her wardrobe, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  ‘Is Mabel settled?’

  ‘She’s in the nursery with Mary and the little ones. She’s a natural with children and they’ve taken to her already.’

  ‘Just as well.’ Olivia canted her head and ran her fingers across several evening gowns, one after the other. ‘The green, I think. No the lemon.’

  ‘Right you are.’ Molly reached for the gown in question.

  ‘No, the cerise.’

  ‘Make up your mind, ma’am. Lord Torbay will be here soon.’

  ‘Definitely the cerise then.’

  Molly helped Olivia into a striking cerise silk evening gown with delicate lace and ribbon trim and a heavily flounced hem. The gown bared her shoulders and drew attention to her décolletage and narrow waist thanks to the brutally tightened stays she was obliged to endure for the sake of fashion. Molly sent Olivia speculative looks but refrained from reminding her that she had been saving this particular gown for a special occasion.

  Olivia sat in front of her glass, not moving a muscle as Molly tamed her ringlets into a flattering cascade around her face. She passed the time wishing she could arrange her feelings for Jake as easily as Molly arranged her hair with the help of a few expertly displaced pins. He challenged her on so many levels that had nothing to do with their customary bouts of fencing. He was intelligent, undeniably handsome, influential and principled—rare and desirable qualities in any gentleman. He exuded virile masculinity and an air of sophisticated reserve that discouraged the intimate aspirations of the opposite sex.

  From her own observations, few single women within society’s ranks were indifferent to Jacob Morton. Olivia was the only woman he admitted to his circle of vigilantes, precisely because she had never set her cap at him. She was frequently required to remind herself of that fact. Besides, she was a widow of little more than two years’ standing and, as she had reminded Eva just that afternoon, a suspected murderess to boot. Although her name had been cleared, some people still believed she had arranged her husband’s violent demise and tongues wagged whenever she appeared in society.

  Olivia shepherded her wayward thoughts back to Jake and sighed. There was absolutely no point in regretting what could never be. Besides, one marriage was more than enough for her and she had not the slightest intention of being controlled by any man ever again; no matter how appealing the man in question might be. No matter how strong the connection between them. No matter how ardently she sometimes wished for his company in her huge, lonely bed at night when she couldn’t sleep for thinking about him and desire temporarily overwhelmed common sense. Her passion for Jake was a burden she had disciplined herself to endure in solitude. No one, not even Eva, would hear the truth from her lips. When, as he inevitably must, Jake took a wife, she would be the first to wish the couple joy.

  She absolutely would!

  ‘Well,’ Eva said, eyeing Olivia’s gown when she joined her in the drawing room. ‘I am glad to see that you haven’t made a special effort for Jake’s benefit.’

  Isaac arrived at that moment, saving Olivia the trouble of formulating a response that would not have fooled Eva.

  ‘Good evening, Olivia,’ Isaac said, kissing the back of her hand. ‘You look particularly lovely this evening.’

  ‘Jake is dining with us,’ Eva said with a playful smile that earned her a disapproving scowl from Olivia.

  Isaac smiled. ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Olivia said. ‘I had best check on the arrangements for dinner.’

  Isaac opened the drawing room door for Olivia, and she walked through to the kitchens, leaving the lovers to greet one another without her inhibiting presence to stifle their reunion. They had been parted for less than a day but no one could have guessed it from the breathless pleasure Olivia had seen them take simply from clasping one another’s hands. After all the suffering Eva had endured at her husband’s hands and the agonies she went through when she had been separated from her beloved daughter, she deserved the happiness she had found in Isaac’s arms. Olivia would be a sorry excuse for a friend if she resented the total adoration that shone from Eva’s eyes; the complete devotion in Isaac’s as he caressed her with a loving gaze. Their sense of unity stirred dormant feelings in Olivia, creating a restlessness, a yearning, that she had no idea how to counter. She would die before she admitted it, but she was envious. If only…

  But no! There was only one gentleman who could persuade her to surrender her independence and he did not look at Olivia with one tenth of the intensity she could see in Isaac’s gaze as it lingered upon Eva’s features. Insulting it might be, but the truth had to be faced and the sad, irrefutable fact in her case was that Jake didn’t even look upon her as possible mistress material. How humiliating! Especially since Olivia wouldn’t put up too many objections were he to raise the possibility.

  In control of her vacillating emotions once more, Olivia re-joined Eva and Isaac a few moments before Jake arrived. She saw something change in the depths of his eyes when he looked at her; something that transcended mere words. She knew he approved of the way she looked, which made the impossibly tight stays almost worthwhile.

  ‘A new gown, my dear,’ he said in a soft aside. ‘I approve.’

  ‘Oh, this old thing,’ Olivia replied, waving a hand in casual dismissal of the compliment. She was furious because he appeared to think she had made a special effort for his benefit. The fact that she actually had only increased her anger.

  Jake chuckled. ‘You should wear that old thing more often, but not on occasions such as this one when I need to keep my wits about me.’

  ‘I have often heard it said that men are incapable of concentrating upon more than one thing at a time,’ she said with a whimsical smile. ‘You have just confirmed that hypothesis.’

  ‘You,’ he replied with a soft growl, ‘do not play fair.’

  Ye gods, he was flirting with her! Trading witty asides had always been their way, but Jake had thrown down the gauntlet for some reason and chosen to take matters to another level. Very well. Olivia had never been one to back down from a challenge.
Never underestimate the power of a new gown, she thought to herself as she ushered her guests through to the dining room.

  Only after dinner, when the party had returned to the drawing room and the servants had been dismissed, was the real purpose for Jake’s visit raised.

  ‘We have a new maid who is in an interesting condition,’ Eva explained to Isaac. ‘Something to do with Jake.’

  ‘You might have phrased that more delicately, Eva,’ Jake replied with a lazy smile that sent a jolt of awareness through Olivia. She was forced to look away from him for fear that her temporarily unguarded expression would give her true feelings away.

  ‘Eva and I were obliged to sit through one of Mrs Mansell’s laborious charitable gatherings this afternoon in order to make a new acquaintance,’ Olivia said. ‘Something to do with one of Jake’s ventures, but he has not yet explained himself.’

  ‘We did make a very agreeable new friend though,’ Eva pointed out. ‘I like Amelia Armitage very much.’

  ‘And this maid of yours, Jake?’ Isaac asked. ‘What is she to do with it?’

  ‘Actually, she is Fergus’s maid. Or, more precisely, she was brought to our attention by Fergus’s sister.’

  ‘I think it past time for you to explain yourself,’ Olivia said, handing a cup of coffee to Eva and leaving the gentlemen to help themselves to brandy.

  Jake settled himself into a comfortable chair; the one situated closest to the settee that Olivia happened to occupy.

  ‘Patience always was your strong point, Olivia.’

  ‘You don’t deceive me, Lord Torbay. You are simply trying to increase our curiosity by making us wait.’ She turned away from him and smile at Isaac. ‘What say you to a hand of cards, Lord Isaac?’

  Isaac roared with laughter. ‘It won’t serve, Olivia. You ought to know by now that Jake will not be hurried if he would prefer not to be.’

  ‘Nonsense! He enjoys tormenting me. It is his greatest pleasure.’

  Jake sent her a probing look that caused her to react all the way to her toes; a look that implied he could think of much greater pleasures for the two of them to enjoy. Aware of her cheeks flaming, she hastily turned away from him as Jake retold poor Mabel’s story for Isaac’s benefit.

  ‘Good God! Pardon the language, ladies, but I never heard of such an odd legal arrangement.’

  ‘I thought you might have heard talk of it in chambers,’ Jake said.

  ‘No, not a word. I will ask my clerk but you can be sure that if he knew of it, he would have said something.’

  ‘That is what I supposed.’

  ‘My clerk is friendly with Cartwright’s. I could ask him to probe, if you like.’

  ‘Best not. Lloyd had it drawn up and I doubt Cartwright knows anything about it. I don’t want to alert him until I know more myself.’

  ‘Cartwright knows everything,’ Isaac rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, his expression pensive. ‘The law courts are the biggest seat of gossip in the land. I can assure you, Jake, if this agreement was drawn up by any solicitor in London then someone would talk about it and Cartwright would get to hear. Do you know who Lloyd used?’

  ‘No. Mabel’s father kept her out of it.’

  ‘Would you like me to make a few discreet enquiries?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘There, Jake, you have run out of excuses to tell us the rest.’ Olivia sent Jake a playful glance, admiring as she did so the fascinating way in which shadows cast by the lamplight played across Jake’s rugged profile. Her gaze was drawn to his long capable fingers and the manner in which they curled so elegantly around the stem of his glass. She suppressed a sigh as she fought an increasingly difficult battle to pretend indifference to the destructive force of his presence; to the manner in which he so easily dominated the room with his vital and disarming energy.

  ‘I received a visit from Thorndike the day before yesterday.’ Jake’s deep, arresting voice brought Olivia to her senses.

  ‘Lord Derby’s aide?’ she asked, surprised. ‘It is unusual for the Prime Minister to contact you directly, is it not?’

  ‘These are unusual times,’ Jake replied, his expression sobering. ‘There will almost certainly be a general election this year. Derby’s minority government cannot rule with its hands tied behind its back.’

  ‘I have heard rumours to that effect,’ Isaac agreed. ‘The Whigs are becoming the party of the urban bourgeoisie and want a greater say in the ways things are done. The repeal of the Corn Laws was not enough for them and I heard that some leading parliamentarians are calling for a reduction in tariffs on all imported consumer products. These so-called free traders and the Peelites are joining forces against the Tories, which will make it even harder for Derby to form a majority government.’

  ‘There are some very ambitious men amongst your urban bourgeoisie,’ Jake replied, appearing amused by the phrase. ‘They want the middle classes to have a greater say in the House and more influence in government circles.’

  ‘Men like Armitage?’ Olivia said softly.

  Jake nodded at her. ‘Perceptive, as always,’ he replied. ‘But the leaders of the movement who are hiding behind men like Armitage are prepared to resort to desperate measures, even if they don’t actually take the risks themselves.’ He paused to take a swallow of his drink. ‘Especially then. A leading Tory dissenter, who’s been a vocal thorn in Derby’s side for months, has been seen openly speaking with the Radicals.’

  ‘You’ve lost me,’ Olivia said, frowning. ‘Who are the Radicals?’

  ‘The Whigs and Peelites are the main opposition parties, fighting against the Conservatives.’ Olivia and Eva both nodded. ‘There is a third group that not many know about. More extreme in their views and far less patient. The Radicals want not only parliamentary reform but Catholic emancipation and free trade with the rest of the world, amongst other things.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Olivia said in a sceptical tone.

  ‘Don’t underestimate them, Olivia. They are gaining in support and influence, not always by legitimate means. Wealthy traders like Armitage have found a wagon to which they can hitch their ambitions. They want the vote for working-class men and a whole host of other reforms that would change the way the country is governed beyond recognition.’

  ‘As you say, Jake,’ Eva remarked. ‘Times are changing, class barriers are breaking down and it is no longer the aristocracy that rule the country.’

  ‘I have no objection to change, provided it is brought about democratically.’ He took another sip of his brandy and cleared his throat. ‘However, Daniel Smallbrooke, the dissenting Tory I referred to earlier, was recently found dead under questionable circumstances.’

  There were gasps of astonishment.

  ‘I have not read about his death,’ Isaac said.

  ‘You won’t have done. Fortunately he was found by Thorndike’s men in a public place in the House before anyone else got to him. It was a clumsy attempt to point the finger of suspicion at Derby, of course. Smallbrooke was causing Derby a lot of embarrassment, calling him to account for every unpopular decision he made, and no one would believe he didn’t have a hand in silencing him. His reputation would have been torn to shreds, if only by a campaign of whispers.’ Olivia nodded. She knew how that felt. ‘The crime cannot be kept secret for much longer and we are under considerable pressure to root out the people trying to cause this latest civil unrest before it gets out of hand.’

  ‘Perhaps Thorndike…no.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘I would not put it past him, but if he had Smallbrooke killed then he would have made sure no suspicion rested on Derby.’

  ‘Exactly. But the interesting point is that there is talk in the corridors of Whitehall that Smallbrooke was on the point of formally defecting to the Radicals. That would have been a huge feather in their collective hat but, it seems that Smallbrooke had ambitions of his own and the price of his defection was to become the actual leader of the Radical movement. Unfortunately, that situat
ion is not vacant since it is occupied by Cedric Falconer, who has no intention of stepping down. It seems the two men despised one another and couldn’t stand to be in the same room.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Olivia absently plucked at her lower lip. ‘Perhaps Falconer decided to rid himself of his rival and point the finger of suspicion at Derby at the same time.’

  ‘Precisely so,’ Jake agreed. ‘The same thought occurred to me when the situation was explained, but I am not entirely sure what I can be expected to do about it.’

  ‘Thorndike wants you to find out who did kill Smallbrooke, I imagine,’ Olivia said.

  ‘Indeed. It is fortunate that Mabel’s situation came to our notice and that you managed to gain Miss Armitage’s trust, Olivia. We might learn something useful from her.’

  ‘How does Thorndike know Armitage is involved?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Oh, you know Thorndike.’ Jake flapped his wrist in an elegant gesture of dismissal.

  ‘Jake!’ Olivia said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  ‘Actually, Smallbrooke wasn’t defecting and had no intention of doing so.’

  Olivia gasped. ‘He was acting under Thorndike’s instructions.’

  ‘Yes, he had infiltrated the Radicals, which is how he knew Armitage is involved. They use his premises for secret meetings. Through his public denigration of Derby, Smallbrooke earned their trust, or so Thorndike believed.’ Jake sighed.

  ‘Killing him and then leaving him as they did in the House was symbolic. They knew he was a spy,’ Olivia said.

  ‘Yes, so Thorndike is back to square one. He thinks the Radicals are plotting something extreme but now he has no way of finding out what it might be. He needs me to find someone on the inside at Armitage’s who has knowledge of Armitage’s political activities. Someone prepared to gain access to his papers. Lloyd would have been perfect.’

  ‘How about John Travis?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘Mabel’s young man?’ Jake frowned. ‘He wants nothing more to do with her.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Olivia replied briskly. ‘Mabel is not only lovely but she is also defenceless and vulnerable and that is a combination that would appeal to just about any man’s protective proclivities. He will get over his disappointment, realise she has been taken advantage of and will want to help in any way he can; especially if it means revenging himself upon the Armitages.’