Chapter 37

Her heart thudded an erratic cadence in her chest, making her head light and her breathing shallow.

He was here. Mere feet away from her.

As soon as her uncle quit the small receiving room, she inched closer to Mr.Avery and lowered her voice. "How surprised I

am to see you! I assumed you'd remain at Cloverton Hall for the duration of the gathering."

A grin tugged his mouth. "In light of all that happened, I thought it best to return to London."

She swiped long wisps of hair from her face, wishing she'd had a chance to tidy it before he arrived. "I confess I have been

thinking a great deal about Cloverton Hall lately. How did you leave things there?"

He lowered his beaver hat to his side and raked his fingers through his hair. "I departed the day after you did. But after

you left, the entire atmosphere was quite somber. The discovery of the Cavesee Vase's destruction dampened the whole party."

The events—and the feelings she experienced as a result—raced through her mind. "It's all so unbelievable. Were they able

to learn any more about what happened?"

He shrugged his broad shoulder. "As of the time I left, it was still a mystery. But I can confirm that the piece was the authentic Cavesee Vase."

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "It just doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Something odd is happening at Cloverton Hall. The entire situation is problematic. I advised Wainbridge to engage assistance

to look into the matter further. I hope he does."

"And Mrs.Milton? How was she faring?"

"I didn't see her at all after you left. She'd confined herself to her chambers and refused to speak with anyone."

Their conversation slowed. How handsome Lucas looked in his crisp midnight-blue tailcoat and maroon waistcoat. She noticed

the careless manner in which his sable hair fell over his forehead, and the bright light filtering through the front windows

emphasized the mesmerizing hue of his eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl, enchanted and hopeful, and it was an intoxicating,

liberating sensation.

Lucas glanced toward the door before leaning a bit closer toward her and lowering his voice. "I understand that Wainbridge

treated you horribly the night the Cavesee Vase was discovered, and it was shameful. You deserved none of it."

Olivia rubbed her hand over her arm. "Mr.Wainbridge was shocked and upset. I understood his frustration—really, I did. I

assure you, no harm has been done."

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you that you left behind at Cloverton." He reached into the inside pocket of his

coat and then extended a folded handkerchief toward her.

Curious, she accepted it and unfolded the cambric kerchief to reveal the painted miniature of her likeness. A giddy laugh bubbled from her. "Why, this is amazing! What a talent Mr. Romano has. It is like looking in a small mirror."

He leaned his head closer to her and looked at the painting. "It's very beautiful, but I daresay it is because of the subject

matter, not the painter."

Heat rushed her cheeks at the compliment. How easy it would be to fall back to that place of infatuation with him—that feeling

of elation at just being in his presence. But she had to be realistic. She now knew he called on her for a specific reason—to

give her the painting. It would serve no purpose to jump to conclusions. She would not let her heart build up something that

might or might not exist between them.

She sobered, recalling her discovery earlier that morning. "I want to show you something. Wait here." Olivia tucked the miniature

portrait in her apron pocket, hurried back to the storeroom, retrieved the chinoiserie piece she had discovered earlier that

morning, and brought it out to him. "I came across this in our inventory earlier today."

He took it from her, frowned, and assessed it for several moments. "This is a match of one of the replicas at Cloverton. Isn't

it?"

"Exactly what I thought." She nodded, eager to discuss it further. "And it's authentic. According to our records it was purchased

three years ago, but the only documentation I could find was a bill of sale from a seller named J. Wakes."

"I've not heard of him."

"Neither have I. But my uncle has taken to attending the auctions for the unclaimed items at the docks. I can't figure out how this would have gotten there. Surely it's connected. Don't you think?"

He returned the moon flask vase to her. "I'll talk to my agents. They are more familiar with those auctions than I am, and

they might be familiar with this Wakes fellow."

Thumping sounds and a crash emanated from the storeroom, and they both turned to look that direction.

Lucas chuckled a bit and adjusted his hat beneath his arm. "I don't think your uncle and Crane are too pleased with my presence

here. And I can tell you are busy, so I won't keep you."

Olivia's heart dropped. She didn't want him to leave. In fact, this visit had given her the first real sense of happiness

since she returned.

"But before I leave," he said, "I was hoping I could beg a favor. A personal one."

She raised her brow. "Oh?"

"My mother and your mother were friends."

"The very best of friends, so I've been told," she added.

"Since my father's death, things have been quite difficult for her. I thought that maybe if you were to call on her, it might

bring her a measure of happiness—a way for her to connect with the past but also see how life does go on."

His words struck her—how familiar the sentiment was. "I know that sadness. My father suffered from it after my mother died.

It is a cruel pain."

"Our families have had difficult times. I would like to think that if we can heal from that, perhaps we would all be open to new things."

She smiled. "I'd like that. Perhaps I will bring Laura. She has few memories of Mother. A visit would help her as well."

"She'd be more than welcome. Perhaps next Thursday? I could send our carriage for you."

After the visit arrangements were made and Lucas bid his farewell, Olivia watched him through the window as he turned down

the street. Her head felt light. Her heart felt full. How would she ever return to work after this visit?

***

Before her time at Cloverton Hall, Olivia had never really noticed just how noisy London was at night. With the exception

of the chatter from the other guests or the occasional hoot from an owl in the nearby trees, Cloverton slept in silence. London,

in comparison, seemed wild and unruly.

The street outside her window was never still. Voices, movement, calls, and shouts—it was a lullaby she'd not noticed until

it was absent. And now that it was back, she found it difficult to ignore and it kept her awake. Nearly a week had passed

since she'd returned, and she still hadn't readjusted to the nightly noises.

Next to her, Laura's rhythmic breathing confirmed she was sound asleep, and the ticking of the mantel clock marked the lateness

of the hour.

Olivia surrendered to the sounds. She stood from the bed, lit a candle, and made her way to the kitchen to make tea. Knowing that the servant girls slept on the other side of the kitchen wall, Olivia did her best to be quiet.

Once in the kitchen, she heard voices. At first she thought it nothing more than the maids engaged in a late conversation

or the sounds of the street filtering through the windows.

But then it sounded as if the noises were coming from the storeroom.

Concerned, she tiptoed from the kitchen into the corridor and listened.

There could be no mistaking it—the voices came from behind the door.

Her heart began to race within her chest. No one should be in the storeroom at this hour. She extinguished her candle and

moved to the door, held her breath, and listened.

She recognized Russell's voice first. "I got your letter. What were you thinking coming here again? It was bad enough you

were here at all."

"I couldn't help that," responded a heavily accented feminine voice. "Mrs.Milton made me."

Olivia froze.

Tabitha!

But how? She'd left nearly a week prior.

Why would Tabitha be talking to Russell? She hadn't even spoken to him while she was a guest in the house.

Olivia pressed her lips together in concentration as Tabitha resumed talking.

"Besides, I had to. Time's runnin' out. Mr. Wainbridge is takin' t' lot o' them t' London soon. I 'eard 'im say as much t' Mrs. Milton two days ago. If ye want t' switch 'em out, ye need t' be quick 'bout it."

"When?"

"From what I 'eard, a transport with guards an' t' like is comin' within the fortnight."

Olivia froze. Could she be hearing this correctly?

"How would I even know if the pieces are ready yet?" snapped Russell. "These things don't just appear out of thin air."

"Don't I know that?" she hissed back. "But ye need t' figure it out. Our time's comin' t' an end, an' fast."

"All right, all right," came the hasty reply. "When?"

"Mr.Wainbridge an' 'is sister'll be at an engagement next Wednesday—another party at t' Whitmore House. Mrs.Milton too.

Cloverton'll be empty."

"You're certain no one suspects anything?"

Tabitha scoffed. "If t' debacle with t' vase didn't incite anythin', I think we're clear."

Olivia felt sick. Tabitha was referring to the Cavesee Vase—there was no other explanation.

Russell muttered, "It'll cost us a pretty penny to make up for that. Wakes will demand payment for his work. He doesn't care

if we got the original out or not."

Wakes! Surely it was not a coincidence that his name was on the paperwork.

"I knew it was a bad idea t' trust Billy t' get the vase. This whole mess is 'is fault. 'e dropped it—said it were 'eavier than 'e expected, and it fell when he was gettin' it down. Broke into a 'undred pieces."

"Why did you even bring him into it? You should have just done it yourself."

"It was clear up on t' shelf! You know full well I couldn't get it down."

"Where's Billy now?"

"Got spooked. I doubt we'll ever see the likes of 'im again."

The pieces fell together quickly in her mind—a disastrous, messy puzzle.

Russell already knew about the counterfeit pieces, because he knew Tabitha.

At first the connection was ludicrous. Then it made sense. Russell had been a part of their business and Milton's dealings

for over a decade. He knew everything. And then when her father had died and their uncle took over, the discipline was lax,

which gave him the perfect opportunity to do whatever he liked. It explained why the original moon flask vase was in their

storeroom.

"Can ye get t' Wakes in time?" Tabitha continued.

"Yes. I'll have to, won't I? I can't be sure he'll come, though."

"'e must. And you must get 'im there. I'm tellin' ye, this is our last chance. Now that Wainbridge knows, they'll be watchin' things awful

carefully."

"We could have another problem on our hands," Russell added. "Olivia was down here earlier and saw the original pieces we

are storing here. She said she thought they might be a part of the Cloverton collection. I was able to cover for it, but if

she suspects something, we could be in trouble."

"Best not let John know that. Ye know 'ow 'e is. I 'ate to think what 'e'd do to her if 'e thought she knew somethin'."

The threat of violence in Tabitha's words stunned. Would someone be willing to harm her over this? Or worse?

"I'd best be gettin' back. I—"

Olivia wanted to hear no more. She made her way back down the corridor. There was no time to be shocked. To be angry. She

didn't know who Billy was. She didn't even know how or why Tabitha was here. She'd seen her leave herself.

She had this information about criminal activity. The important thing was how to act upon it.