Harriet stood in shock at the thought of one of the girls having the capability of doing something like this. But none of them would've, she defended to herself.
Mr. Rowe continued moving towards her in a threatening way, smooth and sharp. What he did next caused Harriet to gasp. He picked up the lithe woman cradling her in his arms while simultaneously still carrying Gracie.
"Know this, Miss Morgan, I am suspicious of you. I have to be of every single girl that escaped. It is my job to find out the truth no matter who I may offend. You at the moment are on the top of my list of possible suspects."
"Let me down this instant!" Harriet insisted.
"You have been carrying this girl on a twisted, possibly sprained ankle, so allow me to carry you and bear the burden of your small frame."
Harriet, not knowing what to do, gave in and wrapped her arms around the paradox of a man's neck. Warmth shot through her into her chest and down her stomach at the contact of his swarthy skin against her ivory.
He smelled different from any man she had ever been in close contact with. There were the usual scents, the distinct hint of shaving soap, linen, the characteristic man aroma, and then something else entirely. It clung to him and his skin. Some mixture of spiced tea leaves and old books, a lovely and calming smell.
"Mr. Rowe, I believe you and I are going to be very cross with one another."
The man laughed. "Why, my little spinster..." he purred causing Harriet to flush at his claim on her. "You're probably the embodiment of what a lady is supposed to be, correct?"
She nodded against his chest, and fell silent for a moment, unnerved by how his close contact was affecting her. Harriet hated herself for caring about her disorderly appearance, especially since the man who was carrying her just accused her of such a vile thing. If it was under normal circumstances she would be insulated in a high-necked dress, looking like the essence of propriety and smelling of soap and starch instead of the forest just after it rained.
"If you mean I have been trained and instilled with rules and proper etiquette society expects from women, then you are correct," Harriet exclaimed in a strict voice.
Mr. Rowe laughed softly. "Then it seems to me we were born to resent each other, Miss Morgan."
"Am I to see you as an enemy then?"
"Only if you are guilty," Mr. Rowe stated sharply.
Harriet, against her will, laid her head on his strong shoulder that was so muscular it was oddly comforting. So unforgivingly virile, she thought to herself. Her eyes took in Gracie's lifeless face and the audacity of his accusations angered her all over again, but she was too tired to fight, too tired to argue her innocence.
"I believe, no matter the verdict, Mr. Rowe, we are sworn enemies," Harriet whispered as she shut her eyes and for the first time allowed herself to fall into a deep sleep that she had been deprived of for weeks.
*
Nicu was surprisingly exhausted by the time his limbs reached the entrance to Marshwood Castle. Before he could even figure out how to knock, Esma had ripped open the door with a fuming butler shaking his head in dismay at her antics.
"Phal, I was so worried." Esma went to fling herself on him but stopped abruptly when she saw him carrying a sleeping woman and young girl over his shoulder. "Come get inside. The fall nights are cold."
Nicu made his way through the luxurious entrance and the butler brought him to a dark sitting room. He placed Harriet down on a settee and she didn't even flinch from her sleep. Nicu had been annoyed at her for falling asleep instead of answering more of his questions, but he had to remember the young woman had gone through a lot. But he knew there was something about her that caused the hairs on his neck to rise when she touched him. She was hiding something, and Nico was never wrong about his intuition. The way his bones twisted and vibrated always told him there were secrets to be told, truth to be sought. Esma came behind him to try to take the child from his shoulder.
"No, Phen, she is no longer with the living."
Esma's endlessly dark exotic eyes filled with sorrow. "How?"
"She was ill, died while they were traveling. How are the others?"
Esma shook her head in disbelief. "They were starved, rail thin and tired. Even their spirits were dehydrated. These poor things. They were so weary but refused to sleep, saying they needed to be with their teacher Miss Morgan. I had told them all their teachers had perished but they insisted that one lived and helped them escape."
"They were right," Nicu answered. His gaze fell on Harriet's unmoving form clad in darkness, except for the quiet moon's glow that peeked through the dark clouds every so often and touched her delicate form. "I found her right before some men were about to have their way with her."
"What are we to do with this innocent one?" Esma asked. "She can't be more than thirteen."
Nicu shifted Gracie in his arms. "How long until Scotland Yard is here?"
"They should be here any minute."
At the same moment, a loud knock echoed and Nicu told Esma to stay while he handled the constables. He took Gracie with him and gave her over to the officers and informed them that he would be taking the case.
Derek Holland, the one constable that didn't seem to mind Nicu's heritage or eccentricity, explained to Nicu that they had found the caravans, but they were emptied. They had followed tracks to the Thames River where any signs of the girls or their captors were washed away.
Nicu bid the men goodbye and went to the sitting room. When he entered the place was lit and Esma was sitting in the settee he had laid Harriet in, who was now gone.
"Mr. Hughes took her to a guest room and she's sound asleep. The poor thing."
Nicu couldn't help but note how his sister had grown even more exotically beautiful. One would think leading a life of an aristocrat's wife in a sheltered box would've tamed her, but it strangely appeared to have made her heritage shine through more.
Her thick raven hair was uncombed and worn down as it had been prior to her marriage when she lived with Nicu. Typically, Roma women once married braided their hair or tied it up, but Esma always loved wearing hers down. She would always claim it needed to breathe just as much as she did.
Those deep black eyes of hers were even more expressive than he remembered. It had been a while since he saw her last and he was glad that she seemed to have continued to change for the better. It warmed his soul to know Alastair had no desire to change his sister's Roma ways.
Esma still wore clothes that reflected her Romani heritage. The Rom were known to wear separate articles of clothing for their upper and lower bodies. They even go so far as to wash the upper garments separate from the lower because it was claimed impure. Despite what London society believes, the Roma see cleanliness as sacred.
Esma was huge into wearing fashion that represented who she was and her heritage. Where Roma men dressed to show their power and authority, women wanted to display their wisdom of grace and knowledge of purity.
Esma wore a rich purple skirt that reached all the way to the floor, flowing elegantly around her, covering her legs. Her blouse hung loose as if she hurried getting dressed and she donned a matching purple scarf that was wrapped around her head, which was common for married Roma women. Her usual gold jewelry was absent all but the shimmering piercing at the indent of her nose.
"Where are Alastair and Liam?" Nicu asked.
Esma stood and glided over to the window, watching the constables leave. There was stiff solemness in her limbs and a gravity in the way she held herself that made Nicu immediately come to her side.
"I told St. George I wanted to speak with you in private and Lord Rathborne has retired to his study where I'm sure St. George will soon follow." Esma's luring accent remained the same and her voice was lower than the average woman's.
Both siblings were silent for a while and peered out into the darkness. The moon's glow broke through some clouds and hit the earth showcasing a foreboding mist hovering over the ground and filtering through the air.
"Prikaza." Esma declared.
Nicu said nothing. Esma always had the ability to sense bad omens when dangerous things were lurking in the shadows. She may have married a church man and found a new way of life, but she still was unable to completely strip herself of her Romani sense, nor did she want to.
"My dear Phal, you have always stood right on the line, balancing perfectly between our Romani and English blood, despite what Alastair and St. George believe." Her fingers touched the cool window, pressing against the mist that was fogging the glass. "I know you try to be more practical and that your knowledge has been a gift, but it is also a curse. It has caused you to forget that evil is a living and breathing thing, just like love. It is a presence that imprints itself in the hearts of men and women. You will need more than knowledge to solve this case, Phal."
Nicu felt offended by his sister's remark. "I assure you, Phen, I have always trusted my intuition. That part of my Roma blood still flows through my veins."
Esma shook her head in rebuff. "There is a spiritual sense to this, Nicu, and it goes deeper than intuition. That can lie to you, because you're basing it off feelings and we all are subjective when it comes to such things. What I am saying is there is something dark at work here, and it is not about feeling it, it's hearing it. You need to listen for wisdom in the quietness."
Nicu eyed his sister perplexedly. "Listen to what?"
"Someone."
"Who?"
Esma remained quiet for a brief moment then added, "There is a lot that makes sense at Alastair's church and some that does in our religion, I've been trying to figure out more of who I am. You and I are half-blood's, not truly accepted in either our tribe or London society—"
"That doesn't bother me and since when has it ever bothered you?" Nicu asked in disbelief.
Esma finally pulled her eyes away from the window and shot him a strict paternal glare. "Since I had a daughter. I don't want her subjected to the same treatment we received for being born of two very different societies. We may not be nomads anymore, but we still wander, trying to find our place in life. Mine is here with my husband and daughter and other future offspring. Yours? I don't know, Phal, and I worry about it."
Nicu remained silent not ready to have this conversation about marriage and kids, finding love. All of it was rubbish and there were more important matters at hand.
There was a mystery to be solved.
Esma noting his set expression, decided to savor that part of the conversation for a later date. "You must solve this, Phal."
Nicu nodded. "Tell me what you are thinking?"
The right corner of Esma's lips rose. "It's been a long time since we've done this together." She laughed to herself. "I've be contemplating on why these men would be hired to kidnap these girls."
"To sell them," Nicu stated.
Esma narrowed her eyes in speculation. "It would seem, but why a finishing school? Aren't there easier targets?"
Nicu grinned, liking where she was going. "You think they aren't being sold off?"
Esma sat down on a settee, searching through the intricate possibilities in her mind. "No, I do, but I think whoever hired these men is looking for a very specific type."
Pieces began to click in Nicu's head like gears shifting into place. "The perfect lady."
Esma gave a strong nod. "I could be wrong."
Nicu waved her off. "You're not. In fact, I'm rather cross that I didn't come up with it myself. I will say to you, Phen, this case perplexes me, and I'm rather thrown off course a smidge."
Esma rose a single dark manicured brow looking amused. "A smidge?"
Nicu's mouth twitched. "I've missed this. It brings me back to simpler times where we would solve cases together and you'd keep me in check."
Esma laughed. "Those were the opposite of simpler times for me. The most dangerous and tedious if you must ask. You're more work than my precious daughter who is only seven."
"How is my little Lovey?" Nicu smiled in adoration.
"Rambunctious, has her mother's looks and her father's personality."
"Her uncle's intelligence?"
Esma smiled gently. "I'm afraid not. She's seems like a normal girl to me. You'll have to have your own kids if you want another one of you running around."
A new voice entered the room. "I'd rather not have that. I think Alastair would agree." St. George and Lord Rathborne entered the sitting room, disheveled and smelling of various mixtures of spirits.
"Tough night?" Nicu questioned in good humor as he saw a bruise forming around St. George's left eye.
Alastair went over to kiss Esma as St. George leaned on the doorframe. "Terrible, to be surrounded by such beauties and not able to scoop up any of them. It's my worst nightmare."
Esma snapped at St. George with her fiery tongue. "You will not touch, banter, smooth talk, or seduce any of these girls while they are under my roof. Do you understand?"
St. George held up his hands in mock defense. "Isn't this Alastair's roof?"
The man himself chuckled. "Not since we married. This home is her domain."
"Phen, continue to bounce ideas off with me." Nicu ordered, ignoring his two friends.
Esma went to say something but was halted by Alastair placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. "Ideas only," he demanded, stern eyes set on Nicu. "My wife is to remain safe and out of harm's way. We both know what happens when you pull someone into your cases."
Nicu inspected his brother-in-law. A man who was the picture of an aristocratic bear. Some say Nicu's spirit animal was a panther, a feline of some sorts, whereas Alastair was more like a big brown bear. A man with a flaring temper and fists the size of hams. If there was one-man Nicu did not want to go head-to-head with, it would be Lord Rathborne...
Although that did not stop him years ago and both men came out of a tavern fight equally bloodied and bruised. Alastair had earned Nicu's respect after that, not many men could equal him in a fight, especially ones with no rules.
"Does your husband still not know you are one of the most dangerous creatures to walk this earth, dearest Phen?" Nicu asked his sister innocently tilting his head to the side.
She gave him a smug look. "I may have demonstrated my skills with a dagger one night when he took an argument too far."
Alastair smirked at that as if the memory pleased him. "Never knew a butter knife could be so lethal."
"It is... when it's in the right hands," Esma purred smoothly, making her husband flush at the neck.
Nicu rolled his eyes. "Need I remind you, Alastair, the only time my sweet Phen was in harm's way was during your case."
The Marquess narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't have allowed her to join you."
St. George chuckled and finally stepped in. "No one talks Esma out of something she wants to do. Neither of you were at fault. Right, darling?"
Esma slid her hand under her chin in a poised manner. "You are correct, St. George. But this time, Phal, I shall honor my husband's wishes. I will help with discussing, as will Alastair and St. George I'm sure, but that is as far as I'll go. I have a husband and daughter to think of. My life is no longer my own."
Nicu nodded in understanding. "Well, let's get on with the discussion. What about the girls? I need to have access to them so I can conduct interviews."
Alastair stopped Nicu before he could continue. "It is late, my friend, and as much as I want to help these poor girls, we all need some sleep. They will reside here until their parents are informed and come to retrieve them. For now, let's rest and hypothesize in the morning."
"Nonsense," Nicu declared, "I think best at night."
When he set his attention on the three people who were his only close companions in life, Nicu noticed how weary and tousled they were.
"Forgive me," he apologized, "this has been an overwhelming day. You're right, your lordship, let's all get some rest."
Alastair's brow twitched at the honorific. "Please don't ever call me that again. It's unbecoming of you."
Nicu gave a rakish smile, and everyone parted heading to their respective rooms. St. George took long strides to catch up with Nicu's effortless speed. "You're going to be up all night, aren't you."
"Indeed I am."
"Mind having some company?"
Nicu opened the door to Alastair's study. "It will be a long night, I forewarn. Now tell me everything that happened and if the girls said anything when you found them. Also, I must know how you received such a blow."
St. George flashed his teeth in a wicked smirk. "Now that is an interesting story. I was walking along, following the marks when all of a sudden...."
Hehehehehehe I just love ending on fun cliffhangers!
St. George is probably my favorite character in this story besides Nicu! Both of them are so much fun to write.
Okay, if I get enough interest in this historical romance I will definitely keep going, but it doesn't seem to generate a lot of reads. My life is getting busy so if readers aren't very intrigued, I will cut back on updates for this one and focus on another. :) One that you readers will be more excited about.
Let me know what you all think!
Prikaza: Bad Omen