Chapter 17
SIRENS CIRCULATING LIbrARY, NEXT DAY
As Viveca blew cooling air across the surface of her teacup, her mind wanted to drift in a hundred different directions.
That was a lie.
Her mind wanted to drift in one very specific direction.
And it would’ve had leave to if she’d simply been allowed to spend her day shelving books, straightening newspapers, and smiling vaguely at Sirens members.
But Tessa had arrived twenty minutes ago and said it had been too long since they sisters had had tea—it had been five days precisely—and now Viveca was having tea with Tessa and Saskia and really, truly trying to attend to the conversation—really…
truly—but there was only one topic she wanted to dwell on.
And that was a topic she could not discuss with her sisters.
Tessa caught Viveca’s eye and held it as she asked, “And the publishing arm of Sirens? Any exciting new titles coming your way?”
Tessa was all but demanding Viveca’s full attention.
Right.
“Actually,” she said, “we have a most promising manuscript.”
“Is that so?”
“A romance,” said Saskia.
Viveca felt the corners of her mouth turn down.
Saskia’s tone sounded…dismissive.
“When a Lady Dares is what we’re thinking for the title.”
Tessa nodded. “Oh, I like that.”
Viveca turned toward Saskia, “See?”
Saskia nodded distractedly and gave no indication that she felt inclined to engage on the topic.
Which Viveca was finding both slightly annoying and slightly intriguing.
Come to think of it, Saskia always behaved this way when it came to this manuscript.
As if she were distancing herself from it.
“It’s going to be a smashing success,” said Viveca, both because she believed it and as a test.
“Let’s not get carried away,” said Saskia.
Viveca’s eyebrows dug into her forehead.
There.
Saskia had done it again.
What was going on?
But she had no time to press Saskia on the matter, for her sister shot to her feet and said, “Mrs. Dunlevy asked me to proof-correct the ledger today, so I must see to it.”
She was gone in a matter of seconds—which left Viveca alone with Tessa.
Of course, that was no unusual thing, but there was a look in Tessa’s eyes that said she’d, at last, gotten what she’d come for.
To be alone with her baby sister.
“I heard you left the musicale at Primrose Park early last night,” said Tessa.
Viveca tried to keep her breath calm, and her reply steady. “Oh?”
“A stomach upset, was it?”
“Yes,” said Viveca, though it sounded more like a question.
The thing was she was no good at lying.
Utterly rotten at it, in fact—and Tessa knew it.
“It must’ve been a very mild case,” said Tessa, “for you to look so recovered today as to be positively glowing.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She wouldn’t be discussing with Tessa the reason she was positively glowing or why her skin felt subtly tingly or why her step didn’t feel like it quite touched the ground.
But the way Tessa was looking at her… She might know all that anyway.
“Saskia mentioned Lady Beatrix told her she’d lent her carriage to take you home,” continued Tessa. “How kind and generous of her.”
“Uh-huh.” So, Lady Beatrix had lied for her brother—as any loyal sibling should do.
Tessa’s head canted. “What do you know about Lady Beatrix?”
That she’s not Blaze Jagger’s lover, but Viveca couldn’t say that.
For a variety of reasons.
“I know that she’s…” Oh, what did she know about Lady Beatrix? Other than what she’d learned last night, that was. “She’s the daughter of the Marquess of Lydon and the wife of Lord Devil.”
Tessa nodded, as if she were seriously contemplating her next words—as if her mind weren’t already made up. “It’s not common knowledge, but Lady Beatrix is also the half-sister of my business partner, Blaze Jagger.”
Viveca she swallowed. She couldn’t not. “Oh?”
“He’s Lydon’s by-blow.”
“Ah.”
A few beats of silence loped past where Tessa studied Viveca and Viveca felt very much studied. She must say something—anything—before Tessa did, otherwise all the truth might come tumbling out and that wouldn’t do anyone a whit of good.
“How…” She racked her brain… “How did you come to be in business with a man like Blaze Jagger?”
She knew the basic elements of the story, but she didn’t know Tessa’s version and found she needed to know.
“Blaze didn’t appreciate it when The Archangel backed The Race of the Century and took betting on the race.”
“This was before you were partners,” confirmed Viveca.
Tessa nodded. “From Blaze’s point of view, we were setting ourselves up as direct competitors, and he wasn’t having it.” She took a sip of tea. “So, he tried intimidating us into getting out of the horse racing game.”
“Didn’t he try to have you—” Viveca’s mouth snapped shut.
Kidnapped.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed.
She’d heard that unspoken word as clearly as if Viveca had spoken it.
Criminy.
She’d gotten that information from Blaze, and Tessa would know it.
Tessa set her teacup and saucer on the table between them, sat back, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll be direct.”
Viveca could giggle. When wasn’t Tessa direct?
But that giggle would’ve been born of hysterics rather than delight, and Tessa would’ve heard that, too.
The thing about Tessa was once she placed herself in one’s path, there was no getting around her.
One didn’t swerve and avoid her.
One had to deal with her.
“What’s going on between you and Blaze?” she asked, her voice low and commanding.
Viveca’s mind raced.
What wasn’t going on between her and Blaze?
But only one of those things would be suitable for polite conversation… “I’m teaching him how to read.”
Blessedly, that was a truth.
Not the truth, but a truth, and it would have to do.
Tessa’s brow lifted. “Are you now?”
“Well, he’s a member of Sirens.”
Tessa’s brow broke for the ceiling. “Is he now?”
“So, it only follows logically that he would want to be able to read our offerings.”
Tessa didn’t miss a beat. “Speaking of logic…a few things.”
Viveca could groan.
Tessa was bringing her logic to the table.
That never boded well for an adversary of Tessa.
“First, one typically becomes a member of a circulating library after one learns how to read.”
“I think he thought he could just pick it up,” said Viveca—and for some reason, she kept talking. “Really, he’s so brilliant, I think he could have.”
“Brilliant?” There went Tessa’s eyebrows again.
“Well, he is.”
Objective, empirical truth, and Tessa knew it.
“Second,” said Tessa. “What offerings are you speaking of?”
Offerings.
The way Tessa spoke the word…and the way she was looking at Viveca as if she could see straight through her all the way to the carriage, ahem, ride last night…
“He’s interested in books,” said Viveca. Another truth. “In fact,” she continued, a veritable fount of truths, “he brings me a book every time we meet.”
Oh, why had she spoken that truth?
Tessa nodded. Further, she looked not at all surprised, and something occurred to Viveca… “Does he bring you a gift every time you meet?”
“He does.”
“A book?”
“Tea.”
Of course. Tessa loved tea—so Blaze brought her tea.
“Why do you think that is?” asked Viveca.
“Because Blaze takes care of anyone he considers his.”
Viveca wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “As in ownership?”
Tessa shook her head. “As in his folk. If he considers you his folk, he will see you taken care of. And, Viveca, it seems he sees you as his folk.”
The idea warmed Viveca, for she knew that to be a very special place to occupy.
“Take his food pantry, for example,” said Tessa.
“Food pantry?”
“You don’t know about it?”
Viveca shook her head. “I don’t.”
“He funds it for needy mothers and children. It’s open on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Osborn Street.”
“Bla— Mr. Jagger provides food for those in need?”
“Though he would never admit it,” said Tessa, “I think he prospered beyond his wildest ambitions, and this is his way of correcting the imbalance a bit.”
“That’s so…” Viveca searched her mind. “Noble.”
Tessa smiled. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Is that why you didn’t have him imprisoned when he tried to have you kidnapped?”
“I didn’t know about the food pantry then.”
“But…?”
“I saw something of myself in Blaze. Or I should say, a different future that could have been, without intervening forces in our lives.”
“And you decided to be that intervening force for Blaze.”
“I think he would’ve gotten there on his own. After all, he’d already established the food pantry well before I ever met him.”
Sudden urgency filled Viveca, and she was on her feet before she fully realized her intent. “Today is Wednesday.”
“It is.”
“And you say that’s the day the food pantry operates?”
“One of them, yes.”
“I, erm, I must go, Tessa.” Viveca dashed around the table and pressed a quick kiss to her sister’s cheek.
“I thought you might.” Tessa wasn’t smiling as she grabbed Viveca’s hand. “You must be careful, Viveca. Promise me.”
“Of course,” said Viveca, offering her sister a reassuring smile.
Which was how, forty-five minutes later, she found herself in Whitechapel and stepping from a hired hackney cab onto Osborn Street.
She craned her neck to meet the driver’s gaze. “You’ll wait as we agreed?”
“Aye, miss.”
He wanted that second guinea she’d offered for her return home.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be here.
Perhaps she was intruding.
Perhaps she had no right.
But nights were no longer enough for her.
She wanted to know what went on during Blaze’s days—and in his life, too.
The life he lived outside his myriad business interests.
After all, he knew everything about her.
Wasn’t turnabout only fair play?
Soon, she was approaching a crowd of women and children.
This was the place.
It had to be.
She skirted the lively crowd until she reached a short set of steps. The woman at the top looked in charge with one hand planted on her waist and the other directing who was next in line and what foods went to whom. In another gender, she would’ve been a general.
Viveca craned her neck and called up, “Is this the food pantry run by Blaze Jagger?”
The woman’s gaze startled right and gave Viveca a slow up and down appraisal. “Who’ll be wantin’ to know?”
“A friend.”
The woman’s eyebrows lifted toward the sky. Viveca seemed to be inspiring the response more than her usual amount today. “A friend, ye say?”
“Yes,” said Viveca. “I am Mr. Jagger’s friend, and I would like to know if I’m at the correct place.”
The woman looked as if she didn’t know what to make of Viveca’s politeness. “Ye are, miss.”
“Thank you,” said Viveca, smiling. “And is he in today?”
“Ye just missed ’im.”
Disappointment cut through Viveca.
Of course, the afternoon was growing late.
Blaze would be getting ready to open The Archangel for the night. Then, later, they were supposed to meet at Tichborne Street for their lesson.
“Thank you, and a good day to you,” she said before turning on her heel and making her way to the waiting hackney cab.
“Back to where we came from, miss?” the driver called down.
She shook her head. “Take me to The Archangel.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Of course, they did.
Once seated inside the carriage, she tapped the ceiling and they were off.
She was now possibly intruding into another part of Blaze’s life that she hadn’t been invited into.
But she couldn’t help herself—she needed to see him sooner than ten o’clock.
She needed to see him now.
It was all she’d come to know about him.
Somehow, though, he was still the man she’d thought him—but now so much more, too.
Noble.
He was noble.
And not because of a marquess’ blood flowing through his veins.
But because of himself.
And that a man like him considered her one of his folk…it felt special.
When had that happened?
When had what she and Blaze shared become more than fun?
When had it become more?