“You have a beautiful home,” she lied instead of replying, indicating the room. “And quite an impressive collection.”
“They are, aren’t they? Some are more than three hundred years old. And they hail from all parts of the world. It’s why I find them fascinating—different materials, different designs, but the same center.” His lips turned into an almost real smile as he glanced around.
“That is fascinating.” Hannah twisted her hands in her lap, shifting uneasily on the narrow chair.
“They can be. Though I imagine you aren’t actually interested in discussing my collection. No, I suspect you’re curious as to why I asked you here.” Frederick dipped his head forward, his curls glinting in the light.
“I suppose this means you were satisfied with my prior services,” she said, working to match his tone—or at least maintain the tone necessary for her to do business, despite the ill feeling in her gut. She didn’t think it would be to her benefit to point out that abducting hardly counted as asking.
“Quite.” He nodded. “And I know that I’ll have many uses for you in the future, provided youkeepproving useful.” Despite the nearness of the fire, she shivered at his hard stare. “How is your trade these days?” he asked, his lip twitching as if he most certainly knew how Ned’s threats were taking a toll and how eager she was for additional work.
Any work.
“What information do you need, Mr. Weiss?” she asked, straightening in the chair.
“So direct,” he tutted, moving around the desk to sit in the chair opposite her. He nodded at Martin, who exited from the room. “How refreshing. I’ve become so used to only interacting with women trained in social niceties, but you’re so… the opposite. You’d create quite the stir in a ballroom. Amusing, for some people.”
His eyes hardened.
This man knew things. Many things. Far more than his brother realized. At least, that’s what she thought. For the way Sol spoke of Frederick, he clearly idolized the man—how betrayed would he feel should he discover his brother’s illicit activities? As for her, if she was truly seen as a threat… She cleared her throat.
“Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll ever see the inside of one,” she said. Not a truth she hadn’t already known that, but this man clearly needed reassurance. Something she shouldn’t resent. After all, she’d not want herself anywhere near Tamar. And, she supposed, who was she to judge when she shielded her sister from all manner of hard truths about their life?
Frederick Weiss smiled again. “Clever, aren’t you, Miss Moses. A becoming quality. It’s rare to meet a person so completely aware of their place and limits.” He threaded his fingers and placed his hands in his lap. “One hears tell of so many stories from your world. Of women whose work with pretty objects leads them to dream and want things which will never be theirs. Stories which end in… disappointment.”
A warning if there ever was one.
“You needn’t worry about me. I’m not one of those women,” she said, squeezing her own hands together tighter, careful not to let go of the man’s gaze.
“No, I suppose you aren’t,” he said softly, cocking his head to the side. “Which is why you are here, to help me with a very delicate matter.”
That got her attention. “Sir?” she asked.
“My younger brother, Solomon, is unfortunately not quite as sensible as you.” The temperature in his gaze seemed to drop even further. “He’s a bit of a dreamer,flighty and far too trusting. So many people attempt to take advantage of him—almost have, many times…”
Frederick paused, moving his hard stare to the floor. He clenched and opened his fists once, twice, and a third time, before lifting his head back up, his expression now calm. “I apologize,” he said, his voice softening for the first time. “I tend to become a touch emotional discussing him. You see, I’ve raised him since our parents died. He was just a child. So young, so fragile, and I tried my best, but I often worry…”
“I understand.” She swallowed a hard lump. Because she most certainly did.
“Of course you do,” he said, sounding almost kind. “Which is why I sent for you. Solomon didn’t come home a few nights ago, and while initially I wasn’t worried—” His eyes narrowed at her. “I presume I don’t need to be delicate with you?”
“You do not,” she said, her smile turning brittle.
“He’s been distracted as of late, and in the past, he’s dealt with the matter by releasing his pent-up, let’s say, urges. He generally favors professionals to assist him. One of his cleverer habits. Though he does become… infatuated at times, the attachment always passes quickly enough,” he told her, his eyes even more intent. Knowing.
And clearly disapproving.
Hannah willed her face not to react. After all, why should she be hurt? Yes, Sol had made passionate declarations toward her, but she’d not actually taken them seriously. And she most certainly knew the way of the world and the men in it, no matter their background or class.
“I didn’t necessarily expect him home until Fridaymorning, or even the afternoon; however…” Frederick frowned. “I know the weather is bad, but one would have thought he’d have at least contacted me… especially as now it’s been several days.”
“I understand,” she told him again, thoughts turning over in her mind. She herself had also told him to seek out women who could appreciate and benefit from what he had to offer. Thus, it would’ve been logical for him to comply.
And if he had become temporarily stranded with one such woman due to the weather, well, good for him.
Of course, Isabelle Ellenberg would not appreciate that explanation for his absence, but that Roger Berab fellow probably would, from the look of him. And if confirming such a situation earned her money that she and her sister needed and helped Hannah finally put to bed any errant feelings and conclude their relationship for good—that was the best result for everyone involved.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Is there a particular part of the city…?”
