To Love in Silence (Currents of Love Book 3) Page 12

  “Were you expecting a coach?” Eric asked.

  Eloise shook her head. They focused again on the footman, who approached her with a note. “The coachman had this note for you, Miss.”

  She took the missive, turning it over in her hand and recognizing her uncle’s seal. Swallowing down the sudden misgivings the site stirred in her, she broke it open. With the intensity of her friends’ curiosity on her, she scanned the note, only to look up in despair once she finished.

  “My uncle is summoning me to London,” she explained, forcing herself to look directly at Sarah rather than Eric and noting his own diligence in looking to his sister for the translation Eloise knew he didn't need. “He says I'm to leave at once.”

  “How heartless! Sarah exclaimed. “Christmas is only two days away, you're not going to celebrate it here now, and are not likely to feel fit to celebrate there after the trip.”

  Eloise dropped her chin, the heavy weight of injustice settling upon her. “I fear the letter leaves no room for my own preference,” she continued in a hollow tone.

  “Well then,” Sarah mumbled after a pause, “if it must be so, then I shall at least help you prepare.”

  Eric stood as Eloise and Sarah made their way out of the breakfast room. This time Eloise did risk a look back over her shoulder. There would be no time to talk now, no discussion of the future. She couldn’t place the emotion settled over Eric’s features, but knew the one which threatened her own heart. Abject despair.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ERIC STEPPED THROUGH the door at the at Montford's with no small amount of trepidation. He hadn't crossed the threshold since his fateful meeting with his former neighbor, Pembroke. That meeting had resulted in both of them being shot, and a decent amount of damage and destruction befalling the building itself. The proprietor sat reading a newspaper at a small table in the corner, and from the disdainful looks the man sent him, Eric guessed he not forgotten or forgiven.

  “I'm here to see Mr. Hartford.” Eric stated, ignoring the man's deadly glare. The proprietor pursed his lips, making a show of looking Eric up and down before taking his time folding his newspaper and setting it to the side. He then required another decent amount of time to heft his not insignificant weight out of the chair and begin waddling down the hall. He made no attempt at greeting or indication for Eric to follow him, but this wasn't necessarily a divergence from the man's normal reception of Eric. He’d shown no additional courtesy during Eric’s previous visits.

  Eric followed along behind him, preoccupied by the thoughts swirling in his mind since the day Eloise left. A kind of uneasiness had settled over him, threatening to dislodge the fragile threads of hope and anticipation he'd begun to cling to regarding her.

  Her hasty departure brought back the questionable nature of her connections and Eric started to review certain events during her stay in a different light. That light was not favorable, and it bothered Eric that it existed at all. He needed to get the additional information Mallory couldn’t provide him with.

  Montford's proprietor paused in his ambling, turning to one of the side doors, opening it and gesturing for Eric to step inside, then wasting no time in shutting the door behind him. Eric paused on the other side of the threshold, letting his eyes survey the space. They settled on an older gentleman sitting at a table near the window.

  “Mr. Hartford,” Eric greeted with a genuine grin.

  “Eric, my boy!” Mr. Hartford responded, standing and walking to meet Eric as he strode across the room.

  “Thank you for meeting me, “Eric clasped the hand he offered. “I'm sorry to have dragged you out on a holiday.”

  “Not at all,” Hartford dismissed Eric's concern with a wave of his hand. My family are all far too far away for me to contemplate visiting for the holidays and, truth be told, I enjoy the quiet much better. It's been far too long Eric, how in the world have you been?” Hartford gestured toward the table and the two men seated themselves to continue the conversation, Hartford ensuring he faced Eric fully.

  “Better, unfortunately.” Eric admitted with a sigh, setting his hat on the table.

  “I'm afraid time away from work doesn't generally sit well with men like us,” Hartford laughed. “However, it appears you haven't let go of a few details, am I right?”

  Eric nodded.

  “Your message was vague, but your friend Mallory came by on his way to London, can I assume some of the details might be the same?” Hartford lifted a decanter from a tray on the table in offering, but Eric shook his head.

  “You may assume they are all exactly the same. I asked Mallory to investigate possible connections between a few names. My old neighbor Pembroke, Lars Janssen, and that man Durand who Mallory is currently obsessing over.”

  Hartford nodded, pursing his lips in thought for a moment before responding.

  “Well, you already know that Pembroke was involved in note speculation. But that of course did not put him on the illegal side of things. At some point he must have gotten the idea to increase his revenue through related but much more lucrative means.”

  “Specifically,” Eric added, “Entering into the guinea smuggling trade.”

  “Exactly.” Hartford confirmed. “We do know that he had some sort of contact with Janssen, the man carried a note requesting a meeting in his pocket at the time of his arrest. Pembroke didn't mention your name, but he was stupid enough to sign the note.”

  Eric nodded. “And what about a connection with Durand?”

  Hartford shook his head. “That would be less likely. Durand moved in different circles from Pembroke, though I believe those are the circles Pembroke aspired to.”

  “What do you mean?” Eric leaned forward.

  “Pembroke seemed to be operating on the low end of smuggling.

  “He didn't have the right connections to get into the more organized smuggling ring which you were working to disband at the time. From what I recall, his few contacts were lowly and almost insignificant. Janssen, for example, he made a few good runs, but was not the most intrepid smuggler Pembroke could have associated himself with.”

  “If Pembroke had been working with Durand,” Eric mused aloud, I could see the connection with going after my family, but there's still something missing. As you say, Pembroke wasn't working in the higher smuggling circles, but it would have required someone with far more clout than he had to compel the Gendarmerie to listen to Pembroke when he went in search of my family.”

  “And yet,” Hartford shrugged, “Since this man Durand is on the higher end of smuggling, the obvious conclusion is that there was no connection between them.”

  “Perhaps not between them, but there might have been one between Durand and whoever Pembroke was trying to impress.”

  Hartford grinned appreciatively. “That's what I've always liked about you, Eric, you focus on the points which others may ignore.”

  “But if that’s the case,” Eric shook his head, still contemplating the connection he’d suggested, “why would the pursuit have stopped?” he looked to his acquaintance. “If Pembroke knew my name and was trying to insinuate himself into a higher level of smugglers, why would that group not have pursued me? Pembroke obviously thought getting me out of the way important enough it would have secured his future. Which would suggest I had caused some trouble for the larger ring.”

  “That you did, my boy.” Hartford huffed, rolling his eyes. “I tell you things have not been easy since you've taken your leave. But in reference to your question, it's possible Pembroke's connection never got your name from him.”

  “How could that be?”

  “Pembroke may have been a sniveling idiot, but he was learned enough in the art of the double-cross to realize you don't give away your best information before you get what you want. He might have secured the backing he needed by claiming a good outcome, but your sister and brother laid him low before he accomplished the task.

  Eric thought about that for a moment.

  �
��So, we may hope,” Hartford continued that any breach of your safety and your identity went to the grave with Pembroke and Lars.

  A good hope, Eric thought, but not one he would stake much in. Pembroke stirred up a hornet’s nest. Given the smuggling ring still existed, Eric had no reason to believe they’d forgotten about him. But that could wait. His concern today ran in a different direction. “One other question, Hartford.”

  Hartford turned, eyebrows raised.

  “What is the level of suspicion on Durand?”

  “It's almost certain he's one of the main factors in the large-scale smuggling. Mallory has done some good work in confirming that.”

  “And does that information extend only to Durand?

  “As opposed to who?”

  “He has family with him, are they also involved?”

  “His wife most certainly is. I believe they have a son, but there's no mention of him in any reports.”

  “And what of their ward?” Eric asked cautiously. “His niece.”

  Hartford thought for a moment. “I haven't heard anything of her, but if she's living with them, there's always the possibility.”

  Exactly what Eric didn’t want to hear. “Thank you, Hartford. Now, I’d best get home before my sister throws a fit and sends a search party out.”

  “A pleasant holiday to you, Eric,” Hartford laughed as Eric stood, reaching for his hat. “Do the country a favor and don't extend your leave too much longer.”

  “NO... NO... EESH.” Countess de Montaigne mumbled to herself as Eloise entered the drawing room where her aunt sat sifting through a platter full of invitations. “I swear, it's embarrassing how difficult it is to find a decent event to attend in this city. Oh how I miss the fetes in Paris!” She tossed aside one invitation with such force it skipped off the platter and landed unceremoniously upon the carpet.

  “You wished to see me aunt?” Eloise questioned.

  “Not particularly, no.” She paused in her shuffling, staring at one of the invitations. “Hmmm. Lady Dermont. Her events are known to be fairly large and of good caliber...” The countess pursed her lips, tapping the corner of another envelope against her jaw. “But she has a terrible habit of inviting those Langdons to her events. If that dimwitted son is in residence, I shouldn't wish to attend.”

  Eloise stiffened at the remark, grinding her teeth. “I was told you sent for me, aunt, if you have no need of me, I can return—”

  “Of course I sent for you, girl.” Her aunt snapped, irritated enough to look up at her niece. “But not for myself. Your uncle expressed a wish to see you once he had finished with his meeting. I believe that should be shortly the case, so I've done my duty now and called you. You may go down to the study. She returned her eyes to the correspondence as she responded, and now acted as though Eloise had already gone.

  Eloise turned to head off in the direction of her uncle’s study but paused. She knew there was very little likelihood her aunt and uncle would take her along to an evening event, but just in case the opportunity arose...

  For what it's worth, Mr. Langdon is not yet in London. He and his sister had planned to come into the city after the new year. Currently I believe only the countess and her daughter Marissa are present.

  Her aunt made no show of having heard her, so Eloise continued out of the room. She walked down the hall, her thoughts drawn to the Langdons, and of course to one in particular who occupied every spare moment, every memory and every daydream. She hardly looked where she was going, making her way to the study out of rote memorization, and paid no attention to her surroundings until the sound of raised voices met her ears and caused her to halt in her progress.

  “You were tasked with ferreting out and intercepting the messages Mallory is receiving.” An unfamiliar, distinctly British voice boomed. “We know Mallory is in correspondence with that banker.

  “And I have done my best to do so, my lord. The time is not yet passed, and I have additional information yet to review. I shall report back to you this evening with what I have found.”

  “I'm calling your bluff, Durand. You're only saving grace is my distaste for getting my hands dirty or I would shoot you on the spot for failing me.” The man emphasized his point by slapping a hand down on the table, causing Eloise to jump. “Time has not yet run up, but the hour draws nigh. I had better receive useful information tonight, or don't count on your lifespan extending much farther.”

  Angry footsteps charged across the flooring to the open doorway, and though Eloise attempted to backpedal, the man who'd been threatening her uncle nearly ran into her when he came charging around the doorframe.

  “Out of my way,” he grumbled, charging by her without a second glance. The man exuded something sinister, a frightening air about him which sent a shiver down her spine. Tall, graying, and his frame and features exceptionally angular. A look so intense, she found herself staring as he continued down the hall toward the front entry.

  “Eloise!”

  She jumped in place yet again, heart racing and attention slamming back to the present. She spun around and hurried toward her uncle. “Yes uncle, I'm here, she responded, rounding the door.

  Her uncle sat at his desk, raking his fingers through his thinning hair.

  “You spent weeks in the Langdon home. You had better have some useful information for me.”

  Eloise's eyes went wide, nostrils flaring. “Given that you never clarified what kind of information you—”

  “Don't get insolent with me, girl.” He growled. “You know who you were there to impress. What did you find out about Mallory?”

  Eloise straightened, taking a breath. “He seems to be a gentleman of means, well respected and liked, he holds his estate in—”

  “I know all that! Did he mention any excursions to London? Did he mention any acquaintances here?”

  “No sir, not that I recall.”

  “Not that you recall?” Her uncle roared, his face going livid. The transformation sent Eloise back a step, and her arms up to hug herself. “What were you doing the entire time at that imbecile’s home?!”

  Anger rose in Eloise, everything in her shouted to defend Eric, take her uncle to task for his mood and cruel treatment of a man every bit as capable and more of any gentleman she'd ever known. But she knew better than to argue with her uncle. So, she remained silent and watched him flop back into his chair, hands rubbing at his eyes.

  A long moment of silence stretched between them, during which time Eloise was unsure if her uncle had anything else to say to her, or if she should leave. She was saved the question by her uncle waving a hand in her direction.

  “Go on, get out of my sight, worthless girl!” he announced in a weary tone. “I told you what would come of you failing me. Let Alain's blood be on your hands.”

  Panic crashed over her and she ran forward. “Uncle, no!”

  “I said get out!” He roared, bolting to his feet, slamming his palms down on the desk and leaning forward toward her so that she was forced to jump back in fear yet again.

  Swallowing, she turned to go, her steps hesitant as her mind raced through any and every possibility of assuaging her uncle. Behind her, he sank back into his chair mumbling to himself.

  “There must be some way for me to get additional information on Avery.”

  Eloise halted in her retreat, tilting her head as a thought occurred to her, the spark of a memory far in the recesses of her mind. “Avery?” She whispered to herself, forcing herself to take another step in the direction of the door.

  “What of it?” Her uncle piped up, having, heard her. She turned with a gasp, realizing too late she should have kept her quandary to herself. She had no idea who Avery was, or what business linked her uncle’s name with that of Mallory or Eric, but she knew any information her uncle had would not be used to good effect.

  “The name just sounded familiar, is all,” she fumbled for a response. “I meant nothing by it.”

  “Familiar in what way? Wher
e have you seen it or heard it?”

  Too late, her uncle’s interest piqued and he stood, coming around the desk toward her.

  “I'm sure I haven't. It was a mistake, I just—”

  “Lying little wench!” He raced the final steps to catch her harshly by the arms and turn her toward him. “Tell me how you know that name or, by God, Alain will hang by morning!”

  Breaths turning shrill and shallow, Eloise searched her uncle’s features for any sign he might be lying, using Alain to intimidate her. She found none. He would make good on his threat. The back of her neck prickled, and her chin began to quiver. She knew if she told him what he wanted to know it would put Sir Thomas, and possibly Eric at risk, but if she didn’t, Alain’s blood truly would be on her hands.

  Tears welled in her eyes and she felt ill. Her throat began to close, and she feared she might faint. Her uncle shook her hard enough to send her head jolting painfully back, his fingers digging into her upper arms. “Well?”

  She swallowed, praying Eric might understand and forgive her. “He came to see Sir Thomas at Heathermoore but corresponds regularly with Er— Mr. Langdon.” She offered, hoping it might be enough.

  Her uncle’s glare deepened. That tells me nothing! I already know he meets with Mallory and he’s a banker, he likely deals with the Langdon funds as well. If that’s all you can tell me, you can go to work preparing to mourn your cousin.”

  She bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He...” she swallowed, eyes searching the room for a non-existent escape. Her uncle shook her again. “He sends notes to Sir Thomas inside those addressed to Mr. Langdon.”

  “The idiot,” he whispered to himself, sending Eloise stumbling back with a shove as he began to pace. “So that’s how he did it.”

  Eloise sank into a chair in the corner, legs failing her. It made no difference, her uncle no longer saw her. She watched him pace, mumbling to himself until all at once he stopped, spine straightening and a wild look entering his eyes. “That’s it!” he clapped, a look of glee entering his features. A second later, he charged out the door, calling for everyone from his wife to the butler and his coach.