“Where’s Billy now?”
“Got spooked. I doubt we’ll ever see the likes of ’im again.”
The pieces fell together quickly in her mind—a disastrous, messy puzzle.
Russell already knew about the counterfeit pieces, because he knew Tabitha.
At first the connection was ludicrous. Then it made sense. Russell had been a part of their business and Milton’s dealings for over a decade. He knew everything. And then when her father had died and their uncle took over, the discipline was lax, which gave him the perfect opportunity to do whatever he liked. It explained why the original moon flask vase was in their storeroom.
“Can ye get t’ Wakes in time?” Tabitha continued.
“Yes. I’ll have to, won’t I? I can’t be sure he’ll come, though.”
“’e must. Andyoumust get ’im there. I’m tellin’ ye, this is our last chance. Now that Wainbridge knows, they’ll be watchin’ things awful carefully.”
“We could have another problem on our hands,” Russell added. “Olivia was down here earlier and saw the original pieces we are storing here. She said she thought they might be a part of the Cloverton collection. I was able to cover for it, but if she suspects something, we could be in trouble.”
“Best not let John know that. Ye know ’ow ’e is. I ’ate to think what ’e’d do to her if ’e thought she knew somethin’.”
The threat of violence in Tabitha’s words stunned. Would someone be willing to harm her over this? Or worse?
“I’d best be gettin’ back. I—”
Olivia wanted to hear no more. She made her way back down the corridor. There was no time to be shocked. To be angry. She didn’t know who Billy was. She didn’t even know how or why Tabitha was here. She’d seen her leave herself.
She had this information about criminal activity. The important thing was how to act upon it.
Chapter38
The next morning Olivia donned her straw bonnet and stepped into the humid morning. She’d not slept a wink since overhearing the midnight conversation in the storeroom. Her mind was alive with all she’d heard, and she’d spent every moment attempting to complete a picture of exactly what had been happening.
The stale air caught the folds of her light wool pelisse as she rounded the corner from the shop’s alley to the main street. She wound her way through the business district’s crowded streets. Milliners and haberdashers, banks and grocers were all opening for the day, and busy chatter and the crunching of carriage and cart wheels echoed from the structures lining the road.
After a short walk she arrived at the Avery shop—a smart, clean storefront with large, bowed, multipaned windows and a deeply set door painted a vivid yellow. She’d walked past this place numerous times, but never would she have dreamt of setting foot inside.
But today was different. Many things were different.
Olivia paused in front of the door.
It was bold—brazen, even—to call on a man.
True—he’d called on her first, and as the only one who could truly understand the significance of what she’d overheard, he needed to know this information. Even though her singular goal for the last several years had been independence and self-reliance, it didn’t feel like she was going to Lucas for help. She was going to him to collaborate. Nothing in his manner suggested that he looked down on her or her abilities. And that fact attracted her to him even more.
Summoning fortitude, Olivia straightened her shoulders and opened the shop door, which triggered a bell, and entered. The musty scent of dust and antiques tickled her nose, and light from the front windows landed on an assortment of displays—a collection of Turkish urns on a velvet patterned rug, an assortment of oil paintings on a wall papered with Chinese wall coverings. Several Persian rugs of vibrant greens and blues covered the planked wooden floor.
Movement at a curtain near the back of the room captured Olivia’s attention, and she turned. A tall, wiry man with wispy white hair and eyebrows stepped through.
“Welcome to Avery’s, miss. Is there something I can assist you with?”
Olivia tightened her grip on her reticule as the nerves fired through her. “I would like to speak with Mr.Avery, please.”
“Mr.Avery is engaged at the moment.” The man lifted his pointed chin, doing little to hide his assessment of her. “Are you sure there is nothing I can—”
“It is very important that I speak with him,” Olivia blurted. “Is he on the premises?”
The man’s bony jaw twitched. He lifted his chin. “I’ll see if he’s available. The hour is quite early yet, though. May I tell him who wishes to speak with him?”
“MissOlivia Brannon.”
