“Sturgeon wrapped in cabbage with a special sauce my mother taught me, fresh scorzoneras—one of Elijah’s winter favorites because it tastes so close to asparagus—and an apple pie.”
“Oh my,” exclaimed Miss Norton, “such a feast!”
They talked of the weather and the challenges of her new position, avoided any mention of her father, and then shared how the Peelers had found Eli’s grandmother.
“I was madder than a sow defending her piglets when men came around asking about my daughter. I thought the neighbors had been gossiping.” Grandmama shook her head, remembering the day. “When they were certain who I was, they told me of Elijah and asked if I wanted to meet him. I have to say it was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Elijah grinned. “Grandmama was having some difficulty with the tavern and her home above. Taxes were due, repairs piling up, and she was alone. She called me heaven-sent when I found this place and moved her in.”
“Paddy helped me get a decent price for the business, enough to settle my debts. I feared being a burden to my grandson.” She held up a hand when Eli tried to protest. “Now that I’m settled, he needs to look to the future and a family of his own.”
Miss Norton blushed again. “Quite a tale,” she murmured. “So, no stories of Mr. Norton when he was a child?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the O’Briens for blackmail material,” his grandmother said with a wink. “More claret?”
Miss Alberts shook her head. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Norton. Are those your sons and husband?”
“Yes, aren’t they handsome? Almost as good-looking as Elijah.”
Miss Alberts stood, her eyes narrowed as she studied another portrait. “Your mother?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Eli.
He nodded, but his eyes were concentrated on her bare neck, its elegant arch, the kissable hollow at her throat. He held back a groan.
“She’s lovely,” Miss Alberts said quietly. “I don’t blame you for your anger at her loss, Mrs. Norton. My mother also died too young. Consumption.”
The dinner provided good food, amusing conversation, and a chance for Eli to observe Miss Alberts away from others and in the light. Much of their time together had been spent on walks or lately in the kitchen at Hatton Garden. He noticed certain movements of her hands, or a tilt of her head, that were uniquely her. The change in tone when she spoke of something amusing or serious, or the way she bit her bottom lip when she was uncertain how to proceed with a thought.
She was kind, intelligent, thoughtful, and the most exquisite creature he’d ever set eyes on. And he wanted her with every ounce of his being. There was a reason he had been on that corner just as the carriage came swerving down the street. Miss Clara Alberts was meant to be part of his life, meant to be his.
“Miss Alberts, do you prefer music later or games?” asked Elijah.
“Please, call me Clara or Ruby. I think we’ve become close enough friends, don’t you?” She smiled at him, then Grandmama. “I enjoy both.”
His heart thumped and the stupid grin wouldn’t come off his face.
After dessert, they returned to the parlor. “How is the missing jewelry case coming along?” asked his grandmother.
“Yes, tell us please,” said Miss Alberts.
“I went to every jeweler in the area and asked the owners to check their inventory, explaining why. Only two others had inventory missing, but again no idea for how long.” He shook his head. “There has to be an obvious link to each that I’m missing.”
They discussed the possibilities, all previously on Elijah’s list and scratched off. “My mother used to say that sometimes we think too hard because it’s so important to us. If we put it from our mind for a while, the answer will find us,” said Miss Alberts. “It’s worth a try since you’ve hit a wall.”
“On to brighter subjects. Shall we sing a bit?” asked his grandmother, rising and walking to the pianoforte. “Elijah, get one of your broadside ballads.”
“Do you sing, Ruby?” he asked, her moniker coming out more as a rasp. He loved saying the name.
“I enjoy it very much. Shall we, Elijah?” Her smile sent desire crashing through him. Bufflehead!
Eli fetched the sheet he’d left in his pocket. Street vendors often sold the ballads, singing them on the corner to attract a crowd, then selling the publication. He announced the tune for the lyrics, and Miss Alberts joined him next to his grandmother, who struck the first chords. He put his arm around Ruby’s shoulders to share the lyrics more easily. Yes, he told himself, to share the lyrics.
“This is called ‘It’s Money All Laid Out,’ sung by Alec Hurley,” he said, clearing his throat.
“I know this one!” Ruby said, grinning.
I’m very fond of peace and quiet wherever I may be,
And tidiness at home, it does my eye-sight good to see.
