Night Storm (32 page)

“Last night, you said you trusted me to keep you safe. Yet you don’t believe I’ll safeguard your secrets, nor did you think I would treat Felix with care. What does all that mean, Charley?”

Did she even know? No, she realized. Since Cameron had reappeared in her life, she had acted on instinct. She never wanted to give him the power to hurt her again. Nor did she want others she cared about to be hurt by him. The young man she once knew would never have preyed on those weaker than him. But would this new, ruthless, hardened man? She thought of Granston and Alice and Trig and knew the answer.

Whatever Cameron had been forced to do to survive and establish himself as a successful thief-taker had nothing to do with the compassionate man inside. She still might not be able to trust him with her heart, but she could offer him a special place in her life for as long as they both desired such a connection.

Lifting her gaze to his, she produced a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t know what it all means.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Did Felix reveal anything of substance to help with your search?”

He studied her for several long seconds. “Yes and no. I didn’t learn anything that would point me into another direction. However, I’m able to mark Felix off my list of potential suspects.”

Charlotte’s body melted into the seat cushion as the tension she’d been harboring slowly seeped from her muscles. “Did you truly suspect him?”

“No, but I’ve learned to follow every possibility.”

“Since Piper and I were also in the passageway, will you be questioning us?”

“Not at the moment.”

“But you may, eventually.”

“I may.”

Some time passed before Charlotte realized they weren’t heading in the direction of her shop. “Where are we going?”

“To my office.”

“For what purpose?”

“I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Can we not do so now?”

“Not enough time, and I’d prefer that we not be interrupted.”

A dozen reasons filed through her mind as to why Cameron would want to be alone with her to discuss an important issue. Some terrifying. Could this be good-bye, once and for all? Had Jules shared their conversation with him? Would she have to relive the nightmare all over again?

By the time she had worked through all the possibilities, her heart clattered inside her chest. Anticipation vibrated along every nerve in her body.

She hoped whatever it was he wished to discuss didn’t end in a terrible row. She was tired of being angry with Cameron and had no desire for either of them to hurt a moment longer.

She wanted, finally, to be free of the past.

Chapter Fourteen

Adair pushed open the door leading into the lower level of his office, stepping aside to allow Charley to precede him. She had said little since he had announced their destination. And Adair didn’t care to speculate on the reason for her silence.

On the short walk from the carriage to the front door, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous. So much of him resided within the walls of these three floors. Before settling in at the Mirador, he had lived here, struggled here, and eventually succeeded here.

The ground level held a comfortable antechamber for waiting clients. An office and sleeping chamber could be found beyond the antechamber, both utilized by his man of business, Neville Vaughn. Unmarried, Vaughn often worked deep into the night. After finding him often slumped over his desk, Adair had insisted on renovating the ground level to include private quarters for Vaughn.

The first floor held a spacious office for Adair as well as a smaller, cozier library full of novels, travel guides, and collectors’ manuals on antiquities, gemstones, armaments, coins, and several other reference topics. Although useful, the manuals were basic and no substitute for meeting face-to-face with experts in the field.

Early on in his career, he had realized the value of learning as much about the stolen property as the thieves themselves. Such advanced knowledge had aided him on more than one occasion. When he wasn’t researching a particular collectible, he enjoyed studying new worlds discovered by famed explorers like Ibn Battuta, Johan Nieuhof, and Marco Polo.

The second floor of the building housed his bedchamber, plus two additional rooms that had sat empty for the first year and a half. During that time, his bedchamber had consisted of little more than a bed, an armoire, and a washbasin.

As his business expanded, his utilitarian sleeping quarters transformed into an expansive sanctuary, taking up the entire third floor. He had moved walls, added doors, installed towering windows, created a private bathing area and reading niche, and installed a modern water closet.

Even though he now spent a lot of time at the Mirador, this place would always be his sanctuary. For the first time ever, he wanted to share it with someone besides Vaughn and Trigger.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Adair.” Neville Vaughn appeared in the doorway between his office and the antechamber.

“Hello, Vaughn.” Adair nudged Charley forward. “Neville Vaughn, I would like to introduce you to Charlotte Fielding. Mrs. Fielding’s an old friend of mine and Jules. She’s also a witness in the Winthrop case.” He turned to Charley. “Mrs. Fielding, Mr. Vaughn is my man of business. I should try to come up with a better title, but none seem to encompass all that he does. First and foremost, he keeps our clients happy and me organized. Both of which are incredibly difficult feats.”

“Nonsense.” Vaughn sent Charley a lopsided grin, not meeting her gaze with his unsettling eyes. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Fielding.”

“Likewise, Mr. Vaughn. How long have you worked for Mr. Adair?”

“Four years next month.”

“So you’ve been involved with his business almost from the beginning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vaughn shifted his attention to Adair. “The coroner stopped by earlier, looking for the two of you.”

“Did he leave a message?”

“He asked that I tell you that the thread he found was blue.”

“Blue,” Charley murmured, as if saying the word aloud would help her make a connection to the murderer.

Vaughn looked at him inquiringly.

“Blackburne found a dark thread beneath Lady Winthrop’s fingernail. Interesting information to know, but, unfortunately, it doesn’t help us identify her killer. At least not yet.”

“I had thought to meet a friend for a drink at the Mirador,” Vaughn said. “However, if you need me to stay, I can reschedule.”

“Not at all. I want to show Charley around before we settle in to discuss some things.”

“Very well, sir.” Vaughn fetched his coat, muffler, gloves, and hat. Reaching the door, he asked, “Is there anything you need while I’m out?”

“If you see Trig, can you let him know where I am and that I’ll be home for supper?”

“Of course.”

“How about you, Mrs. Fielding? Do you need anything?”

She seemed startled by his question. “Me? No. I’m fine, thank you. I hope you have a nice visit, Mr. Vaughn.”

Pink stained Vaughn’s cheeks. Nodding, he closed the door behind him.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

He wondered if she had noticed Vaughn’s physical response to her question. Adair was surprised to have seen it himself. Vaughn rarely showed any sort of emotion. His ability to remain unruffled was legendary. Jules had attempted to break the poor man’s control quite often, and he had yet to succeed.

But Adair was aware of why Charley’s question caused his man of business embarrassment, though he would never reveal the reason. Not even to Charley. One careless, unintentional comment to the wrong person could place Vaughn’s life in danger. Adair couldn’t take the chance, not after all Vaughn had done for him.

He and Vaughn had few secrets between them. Case in point, Vaughn knew very well who Charley was, by her name alone. Adair’s full introduction was nothing more than formality, for Charley’s sake.

“No,” Adair said, choosing his words carefully. “Vaughn is unaccountably shy around beautiful women. Don’t worry—he’ll eventually get used to having you around, and his shyness will disappear.”

She sent him a sideways glance, one he interpreted to mean there would be no opportunity for Vaughn to get to know her.

“I feel like I’m overlooking something. As though I have all the bits of information I need to solve this murder, but am unable to link them together in a logical order.”

“Sometimes we can think on something too hard and our minds push back on any new ideas. Are you up for a distraction?”

“I think I am. What did you have in mind?”

“Come, let me give you the grand tour.” He opened the door leading to a narrow corridor and to an even narrower set of stairs. “The ground floor is Vaughn’s domain.”

Charley’s silence and palpable tension began to unnerve him. He wished she would say something, but he couldn’t blame her for her lack of conversation.

He had been deliberately vague about what he wanted to discuss with her. In part because he was still trying to work out the details in his mind and, also, because he didn’t want to give her a reason for refusing him.

When they reached the next level, he indicated a door.

“This leads to my office, and the door on the right to a small library. Take your pick.”

Not surprisingly, she chose the library.

She had barely stepped inside when he heard her sharp inhale. “You said ‘small library.’ There’s nothing
small
about this.”

Adair tried to see the chamber through Charley’s eyes. Twelve-foot-high bookshelves lined all four walls. Each shelf was filled with tomes of precious knowledge. Only one bookcase remained half-empty, and the sight of it sent Adair’s mind on a futile quest to figure out how to make room for more shelves, more books.

Charley’s long, slender fingers glided over several spines. Her full lips silently moved as she read the titles. “Have you read all of these?”

He chuckled. “No, only those with a square piece of vellum sticking out of the top.”

Her gaze wandered over the shelves as if to gauge the number he had read.

“One hundred and nineteen,” he supplied.

“You’re keeping track?”

“In a sense. Some men have vices that include drinking, gambling, and whor—women.” He nodded toward the walls. “Mine’s books. No matter how busy I get, or how tired, I try to read at least two books a month.”

“A sort of treat for yourself?” She picked up a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles left on one of the shelves. Holding them aloft, she raised a brow.

He smiled, shrugging, and answered her question. “I suppose. There’s something comforting about being surrounded by so much knowledge and talent.”

While he spoke, she had continued her circuit of the room. She reached a worn leather chair and paused near the side table.

Adair cursed beneath his breath when he noticed the mound of incriminating evidence. Stacked six books deep were works from Culpeper, Miller, Tryon, Lettsom, Buchan, and Cullen. Books on medicinal herbs, home remedies, physiology, and the origins of medicine. Those were only the ones on the table; he had dozens more on the shelves.

She peered over her shoulder, giving him a curious look. “I had no idea you were interested in such things.”

If only he could deny all such interest. But the evidence stared them both starkly in the face, irrefutable. For the sake of what he hoped would be the renewal of their friendship, he hoped she never learned how much he was interested in her profession. In her.

He sighed. Best he ride out the humiliation. If he was lucky, it would be short-lived.

“I have a great many pastimes.” He allowed his gaze to lock with hers. “Some more dear than others.”

She smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile that warmed Adair to the core. “I can understand why books on Africa, the Orient, and Italy would be more dear than a text on how many phalanges are in a human body,” she said, a teasing note edging her words.

“Fifty-six,” he said. “If I recall correctly.”

Eyes wide, she stared at him for an uncomfortable minute.

“I take it I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re quite right.” She shook her head. “You always could call up the smallest detail with little effort, whereas I have always had to revisit something again and again to recall it fully. How I used to envy you your gift.”

“Inconsequential details. Saving a human life is a far more valuable skill to possess.”

She glanced away, embarrassed.

“Shall we continue the tour?”

She nodded, and he placed his hand at the base of her spine. He enjoyed the rare opportunity to touch her, even if through several layers of clothing.

Charley surveyed his office with the same look of appreciation as she had his library. She strolled around his office in the same easy manner, peering at this, touching that.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Cam.”

His gut clenched. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you say my name—like you used to.”

She smiled again, only this one trembled with sadness. “Pride makes fools of us all.” Her gaze caught his. “Wouldn’t you agree?” she whispered.

Adair recognized an olive branch when he saw one. He closed the distance between them. Lifting his hand, he grazed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I do.”

When she didn’t shy away, he lifted his other hand and cradled her delicate face in his palms. Tilting her head back, he said, “I’m sorry, Charley.”

Jules’s words came back to him, clear and brutal.
You’ll be content to watch her marry another and have a brood of children?

“F-for what?”

From the deepest part of his soul, Adair knew he could never let Charley go to another. As much as he told himself she would be safer without him, she would not be happy. Neither of them would. Admitting such released the excruciating heaviness that he had been carrying for days, for months, for
years
.

“For not fighting for you, for the loss of your mother, for failing you as a friend. I’m sorry for the lost time and the terrible pain we’ve both lived with these past years.” Unable to face her beautiful sage eyes, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry for so many damned things.”