Chapter 38

The next morning Olivia donned her straw bonnet and stepped into the humid morning. She'd not slept a wink since overhearing

the midnight conversation in the storeroom. Her mind was alive with all she'd heard, and she'd spent every moment attempting

to complete a picture of exactly what had been happening.

The stale air caught the folds of her light wool pelisse as she rounded the corner from the shop's alley to the main street.

She wound her way through the business district's crowded streets. Milliners and haberdashers, banks and grocers were all

opening for the day, and busy chatter and the crunching of carriage and cart wheels echoed from the structures lining the

road.

After a short walk she arrived at the Avery shop—a smart, clean storefront with large, bowed, multipaned windows and a deeply

set door painted a vivid yellow. She'd walked past this place numerous times, but never would she have dreamt of setting foot

inside.

But today was different. Many things were different.

Olivia paused in front of the door.

It was bold—brazen, even—to call on a man.

True—he'd called on her first, and as the only one who could truly understand the significance of what she'd overheard, he needed to know this information. Even though her singular goal for the last several years had been independence and self-reliance, it didn't feel like she was going to Lucas for help. She was going to him to collaborate. Nothing in his manner suggested that he looked down on her or her abilities. And that fact attracted her to him even more.

Summoning fortitude, Olivia straightened her shoulders and opened the shop door, which triggered a bell, and entered. The

musty scent of dust and antiques tickled her nose, and light from the front windows landed on an assortment of displays—a

collection of Turkish urns on a velvet patterned rug, an assortment of oil paintings on a wall papered with Chinese wall coverings.

Several Persian rugs of vibrant greens and blues covered the planked wooden floor.

Movement at a curtain near the back of the room captured Olivia's attention, and she turned. A tall, wiry man with wispy white

hair and eyebrows stepped through.

"Welcome to Avery's, miss. Is there something I can assist you with?"

Olivia tightened her grip on her reticule as the nerves fired through her. "I would like to speak with Mr.Avery, please."

"Mr.Avery is engaged at the moment." The man lifted his pointed chin, doing little to hide his assessment of her. "Are you

sure there is nothing I can—"

"It is very important that I speak with him," Olivia blurted. "Is he on the premises?"

The man's bony jaw twitched. He lifted his chin. "I'll see if he's available. The hour is quite early yet, though. May I tell him who wishes to speak with him?"

"MissOlivia Brannon."

The clerk's sparse brows jumped. "A moment, please."

She stood completely still until the clerk disappeared through a door. She didn't have to wait long before the sound of footsteps

clipped a nearby floor, and then the curtain again pulled open.

At the sight of Lucas, Olivia's trepidation fled.

"MissBrannon," Lucas exclaimed, his customary smile inciting her to smile in return. "What a surprise to see you this morning."

Olivia flicked her gaze toward the clerk, who'd followed Lucas in. "I must speak with you. Privately, if possible."

Lucas motioned for the clerk to leave, who did as instructed, but only after casting a suspicious glance in her direction.

Refusing to be dissuaded by the skeptical glance, Olivia waited until all was again silent. "I'm sorry to bother you like

this, but I've learned something quite unnerving, and I didn't know who else to come to."

His brows drew together in concern, and he folded his arms over his chest. "What's the matter?"

Olivia lowered her voice and conveyed every detail she'd overheard the previous night—from Russell's involvement to Tabitha's

betrayal. To the time and date they planned to meet on Cloverton's property and to the fact that the man named Wakes might

be willing to harm anyone who knew of their deception. The words rushed out, and as they did, relief filled her.

"From what I can surmise, this arrangement—or whatever it is—has been going on for quite some time, and it affects both of our businesses. In good faith we cannot just stand by with the knowledge that this is happening."

Lucas's sober expression did not change. "Does your uncle know of this?"

She shook her head.

"You did not tell him?" Lucas's brows rose.

Olivia drew a deep breath. Sharing details about her personal life—and her relationship with her uncle—would give Lucas more

insight into who she was, which made her more vulnerable. But what choice did she have? She needed help, and he was the only

one who could give it. "My uncle cares very little for the business. To him, it is simply a living that fell into his lap."

"Do you think he's involved in this as well?"

When Olivia did not answer, Lucas rubbed his chin. "If there is a craftsman who makes such impressive replicas, then we'll

face this issue again and again. After all, if this crew was able to affect the Milton collection, who knows who else might

have been affected? But we must inform Wainbridge. As the owner of the stolen pieces, legally he is the one to bring in the

proper authorities for any real investigation. The burden of proof would lie entirely with him."

"Would he be willing to get involved?" she asked.

Lucas shrugged. "He's lost a great deal of money. I'm sure he would. But what of Mrs.Milton? Tabitha is her maid, isn't she?

Do you think she's aware of what is going on?"

The conversations she'd had with Mrs. Milton, combined with her possessiveness and protectiveness over the pieces, ran through Olivia's thoughts. Could that be why she was so opposed to Lucas's presence? "Honestly, I don't know. My instincts tell me no, but clearly I have misread several situations as of late."

He inched closer to her, and the light filtering through the front windowpanes fell across his face, highlighting the straightness

of his nose and giving his pale eyes the appearance of glass.

Her breath shuddered within her. How would she ever be able to balance these feelings—this sensation of needing him to help

her but also wanting to revive the tension that had simmered between them at Cloverton?

"Wainbridge is to call in a few days to discuss the sale of some of his items. I'll speak with him then and we'll figure out

a plan of action."

Lucas's suggestion seemed solid. It made sense that he would be the one to speak with Wainbridge, especially given the manner

in which he expelled her from Cloverton, but she didn't want to be left out of this process. It was too important. "You must

promise to inform me of the outcome. This has serious implications for my business as well, for if Russell is selling stolen

items from our shop, then I must know."

His eyes locked with hers. "I have a better idea. Perhaps you should join us when Wainbridge calls. We should be doing this

together, you and me."

Olivia felt as if the air had left her lungs. It might have seemed a simple request to him, but to her, it was a testament to the fact that he viewed her as a professional—an equal. "I—I would appreciate that. Thank you."

"I'll send you word as soon as I hear from Wainbridge."

The conversation had reached a natural end, and her entire reason for being at the Avery shop was complete.

Yet she hesitated. For she simply did not want to leave.

She liked the feeling of being close to Lucas—of collaborating with him. His easy manner and quiet strength were a balm to

her agitated thoughts. In his presence she felt respected. Admired. Seen.

Perhaps he shared the sentiment, for the somber expression had faded into one much more informal. "I'm by no means happy about

this development, but seeing you is certainly a pleasant way to start the day." He looked down at her hand. Slowly, he reached

out his own toward it.

Almost through no power of her own, she lifted her hand in response. He took it with his fingertips—so lightly, so gently,

that his touch sent a bolt of fire surging through her.

He held her gaze as he lifted her hand higher and grazed the top of it with a fluttery kiss.

If only they could stay here, together, in this moment when only the two of them existed, when everything else subsided. But

as lovely as it was, she had to remember who she was. Who he was.

As reason slowly won the battle, Olivia begrudgingly eased her hand back.

"I must be going," she managed to say. "They'll miss me if I'm gone much longer."

"I'll escort you." He released her hand and straightened his posture.

"Thank you, but it is probably best if I return alone."

"I understand," Lucas conceded. "I'll send word about Wainbridge as soon as I can."

As she turned to leave, a crooked smile crossed his face. The pragmatic air that had directed their conversation up until

this point began to evaporate. His playful expression, which she had grown so accustomed to at Cloverton, was beginning to

return. And she liked it.

"Good day, Olivia."

The use of her Christian name slowed her steps. "Good day, Lucas."