Another memory asserted itself: this set of paintings had been stolen in the dead of night, shortly after his departure from Dejima with Mina. The Kimura family had tried to hush up the details, to ensure they didn’t leave the Bay of Nagasaki, but word had leaked out anyway.
How had the paintings surfaced here in London? How was it possible that this piece of a long-buried past had followed him and Mina all the way to England? That someone else held the key that would unlock Mina’s secrets?
With the certainty and efficiency of a ship captain, Jake’s mind worked out a course of action. He must locate the original paintings and determine how much their “owner” knew about Mina. He didn’t know for certain that the person now in possession of the paintings stole them, but he did know that person, by virtue of owning them, was connected to the theft. It was safest to consider that person dangerous and a threat to Mina. It was possible this person—the thief, for expediency’s sake—intended to trade on her connection to the paintings and her true heritage. Her Japanese descent was obvious, but that only scratched the surface of the story.
Further, she wasn’t merely the daughter of Jakob Radclyffe, but of the Viscount St. Alban, exalted peer of the realm. With a few well-chosen words in the wrong ears, the thief of those paintings could destroy the new life Jake was constructing for his daughter.
He wouldn’t fail Mina the way he’d failed her mother. The truth must never find its way to the surface . . . or to the wagging tongues of Society. He would silence the thief.
His head whipped around.Lady Olivia. . . She was connected to the thief somehow. And he’d just let her go.
He pivoted and sprinted down the sidewalk against the flow of foot traffic, ignoring cries of half-hearted protests. On the run, he scanned the carriages lining the street, all black and ominously the same. He must reach her before she slipped away.
He caught a glimpse of wispy blonde hair showing through a back carriage window, making its way up Ludgate Hill and onto Fleet Street. His feet slowed before coming to a defeated stop, his heart an unrelenting hammer in his chest.
What did Lady Olivia know about the stolen Kano paintings? His mind raced as the full import of the discovery crashed in on him.
Even if she was a walking scandal, Lady Olivia remained a glimmering jewel of Society. A lady with no business navigating London streets like a shop girl. She had the power of a dukedom behind her, quite the opposite of a shop girl who could be plied with a trinket or a night on the town. A literal fortress surrounded the blasted woman, likely a moat, too.
How could he get close enough to a woman like her to unlock her secrets? As soon as the question formed, two answers revealed themselves: The Duke of Arundel and The Progressive School for Young Ladies and the Education of Their Minds.
Immediately, he dismissed the idea of the school. Along that path lay too many unknowns.
But the Duke was an altogether different matter. The dukedom wasn’t the obstacle, but rather the key. It would place him directly inside her home as the Duke of Arundel’s protégé, allowing him access to her. Access to the paintings and the thief was only a step removed.
The uncertain and scandalous future he feared for Mina began to recede into a more manageable state.
Lady Olivia would provide him the information he needed.
It wasn’t a matter ofif, butwhen.
Chapter 5
Next day
Olivia settled into her seat at the breakfast table and considered the letter resting beside her coffee and croissant. It looked official.
Another morning, she might allow this letter to sit unopened until she’d considered all of its possible consequences. This morning, she hadn’t the time to be patient. Lucy and the Duke would be joining her in a few minutes. Without further ado, she took up her butter knife and sliced open the missive.
6 April 1825
To the Estimable Lady Olivia Montfort:
We would like to thank you for considering our services for your estate acquisition needs. However, we deeply regret to inform you that our staff will be unable to assist you in this undertaking. As long-standing retainers of the Montfort Family, it would be a conflict of interest to act in any way contrary to and/or without the Earl of Surrey’s explicit instruction.
Furthermore, we would caution you to reconsider pursuing any line of action which does not involve your gracious father’s express consent. As you are presumably aware, he and the Countess are not expected home from Italy until autumn. Until such a time, we strongly advise that you remain under the protection of the Duke of Arundel.
Your faithful servants in all, but this,
Wortham, Netheram, & Howell
Olivia slapped the letter down. The cheek! What right had these . . .men!. . . to put her in her place? She was the possessor of a significant fortune in her own right, the Duke having returned her dowry after Percy’s “death.” How dare they insinuate that she needed a man’s name to obtain her townhouse?
She needed no man’s “protection,” or anyone else’s for that matter. Mariana would assist her, as surely would her parents, but that wasn’t how she desired to achieve this end. She wanted to accomplish it alone, only then would the life she attained be entirely her own.
She bit down on flaky croissant with more force than necessary. This wouldn’t do. She hadn’t the faintest idea when Percy would return from the Continent, but he would, someday. And she would be firmly established in her own home before that eventuality occurred. She’d clung to the Duke’s safe harbor for too many years. It was time for her to venture out on her own. Why wouldn’t these . . .nodcocks! . . . let her?
She reached for theLondon Diaryto her left and began skimming its vacuous pages in the hope that they would calm her. She hadn’t gotten far when Lucy bounded into the room, followed by the more sedate pace of the Duke.
