Chapter 42

Had it really been three entire days since they'd left London?

Lucas made his way down the high street of the small village just outside of the Cloverton estate, where he—not to mention

Olivia—would be lodging until the issues surrounding the counterfeit pieces were resolved.

Lucas and Wainbridge left the meeting with the local magistrate—a nearby landowner by the name of Arthur Cunningham. All the

planning, all the waiting, was coming to a head. Together the men had formulated a plan, and if everything went according

to that plan, in mere hours the three people behind this enterprise would be arrested.

Lucas turned from the village's high street and headed toward the inn when a man on the far side of the road caught his eye.

He squinted to ensure that the overcast sky and misty fog weren't obscuring his vision, but there was no denying it.

He recognized the tight, curly hair and pale skin: Russell Crane.

The muscles in Lucas's neck and jaw tightened. Crane was speaking with another man. Could it be Wakes? At first glance the conversation appeared quite casual, but upon closer inspection, the stance of both men suggested urgency, and the sudden jerk of the other man as he looked over his shoulder suggested he was far from being at ease.

Lucas lowered his hat to obscure his face as much as possible and made his way to the inn's main entrance. If Crane recognized

either Olivia or him, their entire plan could be in jeopardy. What was more, Tabitha had indicated that Wakes was violent.

He didn't fear for himself, but Olivia's safety was another matter entirely.

He found Olivia at a table in the dining room, where they'd planned to meet following his interview with the magistrate and

Wainbridge.

She smiled warmly, even affectionately, at him as he approached, but the expression quickly faded as he sat opposite her.

"What?" A frown creased her brow. "What is it?"

He glanced around the dining room. "You must go to your chamber. Without delay."

"But why? I—"

"Go up," he urged in a low tone. "I'll be up in a minute to explain."

She pressed her lips together and wordlessly complied, and Lucas did not move from his spot until he was certain that Russell

Crane had not noticed him or followed him in. After a few minutes, he made his way up the inn's narrow wooden stairs and down

the paneled corridor, then tapped his knuckles against Olivia's door.

The lock clicked. The door opened.

He quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"What's the matter?" she whispered, her hazel eyes wide.

"Russell Crane is here." He swept his hat from his head and combed his fingers through his hair. "I saw him on the street

just outside."

Her eyes grew even wider, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"We shouldn't be surprised," he added quickly to calm her. "We knew he'd be here. If anything, this validates our suspicions."

She lowered her hand and toyed with the coral necklace about her neck. "Was Tabitha with him?"

"No, but when I spoke with Wainbridge earlier, he confirmed that he saw her at Cloverton. There was a man with Crane. I'm

assuming it was Wakes."

"Did you and Mr.Wainbridge meet with the magistrate?"

"We did. His name is Arthur Cunningham. He owns the estate directly to the east of Cloverton. We explained the entire situation,

and he has agreed to assist us. He said he will round up some constables to help."

"That's a relief." Her shoulders slacked slightly. "So what is the plan?"

"Later this evening we'll meet the magistrate and constables at the cottage at dusk and wait for Crane and his associates

to arrive. The constables on hand will apprehend them. Wainbridge has also engaged additional guards to be aware of any other

unusual comings and goings on the property. The magistrate will be there to observe, which will give him eyewitness proof

for the legal proceedings."

"Good." Enthusiasm brightened her tone. "When are we going?"

We?

He paused, taking in her earnest expression. She wanted so much to be a part of the arrest. Given her role thus far, she had

every right to be. Reason urged him to forbid her to accompany them. The plan seemed straightforward, but the potential for

danger was high, and despite her determination to uncover answers and to right wrongs, she was petite. Delicate. If the situation

were to become perilous, would she be able to protect herself?

But she had been the one to uncover this entire plan—the one to bring Lucas in. She had as much to risk as anyone.

As if sensing his skepticism, she entreated, "I'm not reckless, Lucas, nor am I ignorant. I fully understand the potential

danger, but I am a part of this. Can you see that? I have my future to think about. Laura's future. Please do not omit me.

Perhaps it's not conventional, but I—"

"Olivia."

The use of her Christian name silenced her racing words. She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her lips together.

He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and inched closer. "Over the past few weeks I've watched you. Learned from you.

I see your determination, and I'd not dampen that for anything. But as someone who cares deeply for you, I must protest. It

could be precarious, and if anything were to happen, I'd never forgive myself for not doing more to protect you."

She seemed stunned.

Could she really be that surprised?

"But I—I—"

He took her hand in his. "I've never encountered anyone quite like you. I understand and adore your passion and ambition and

would not change it for the world, but that does not change the fact that this is dangerous. I want to protect you."

"If you understand it, as you say, then you understand why I must be there," she retorted, her tone unyielding.

The words hung between them.

He studied her—really studied her.

What other woman would be willing to risk her safety for something she believed in? What other woman did he know who cared

about principle and truth to the degree he did and was willing to put her dedication into action?

It was that very enthusiasm that made her her —that set her apart from other women. To squelch it or to deny Olivia would be to silence her uniqueness.

"Russell has abused my family. My father's memory," she argued, her tone sharp and steady. "Yes, I want him found out and

I want justice rendered. But I need to be there for myself. I owe it to my father. You would not stand by and let someone

else handle this. Why should I? This business is all I have of my father, Lucas. I have to see this through."

He felt her ardent words as keenly as if they'd been his own.

He wanted to soothe her. Encourage her. Join her on a journey they both could find peace and purpose in. But she was right—she

needed to see this through for herself.

And he'd not stand in her way.

"My dear Olivia." He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and let his finger linger on her cheek. "You are stubborn."

She gave a little laugh and impatiently swiped at the moisture pooling in her eyes.

"I'll not stop you, nor will I forbid you to come. I don't think you'd listen to me anyway. But you must let me make one request.

Don't you dare do anything too dangerous. I don't think I could bear it if I lost you."