Secrets of the Lost Ledgers (The Glass Library #5)

Chapter 13

I had no difficulty gaining access to the ballroom. The footman at the door accepted my invitation without a flicker of doubt in his haughty gaze. The footman at the top of the staircase checked the invitation again and whispered to the footman announcing the arrival of guests. The hostess greeted me with a welcoming smile and introduced me to her husband as Lord and Lady Carmichael’s “lovely daughter, currently residing in London”. He bowed politely, said something about the run of warm weather, then greeted the next arrival.

The only guests who’d taken any notice of me were Gabe and Willie, both of whom looked around in surprise at the footman’s announcement. They’d been chatting to some gentlemen at the edge of the dance floor while several couples streamed past them as the ensemble struck up a tune.

Gabe cleaved a path through the crowd towards me, Willie in his wake. Both sported well-cut tailcoats, black bowties and frowns. I braced myself.

“What are you doing here?” Willie snapped.

“Daisy gave me her invitation,” I said, trying not to look at Gabe.

“I meant why are you here? Do you reckon I can’t protect Gabe on my own in a room full of namby-pambies?”

“No. I made the decision last night when I’d had too many martinis. Daisy and Petra wouldn’t let me back out.”

Willie’s frown disappeared, replaced by a nod of understanding. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay.”

“Kind of you to give your approval.”

“She’s not staying,” Gabe countered. “Sorry, Sylvia, but it’s best if you leave.”

His cold dismissal was like a punch to my gut. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but not that. Not outright rejection.

It even surprised Willie, but she quickly schooled her features. “Come on, Sylv, I’ll see you out.”

She took my arm, but I shook her off. I squared up to Gabe, determined to get my point across. Daisy was right. This was my fight. I needed to take responsibility for it. “I came tonight because I want to tell the Hobsons to stop investigating me. Although I appreciate you intervening on my behalf, I need to stand up to them, too. If I don’t, I’ll forever feel inferior.”

“Inferior?” he blurted out. “To them? Is that what you think?” He took both my hands in his. Willie forced them apart, but he pushed on. “Sylvia, you are not inferior to anyone, least of all Ivy. I thought I made that clear. You are her superior in character, intelligence, kindness and beauty. It’s not just me who thinks that. Look around. Look at all the guests pretending they’re not watching you. I can feel every gaze they cast in our direction.” His own gaze heated as he took in my dress for the first time. It warmed me from head to toe. “Is it any wonder they’re staring?” His velvety voice was barely audible over the music, but I heard it. Or, rather, I felt it, resonating deep within me.

I stared up at him and wondered how I was going to keep my vow to stay away from him. If he continued to look at me like he cherished me, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions, any more than he could control his magic.

Willie pinched my arm, unceremoniously reminding me that we weren’t alone. “Everyone’s staring because they want to gossip about the son of Lord and Lady Rycroft speaking to a girl no one’s seen before. Gabe, have you forgotten that your attention to Sylvia is what got us into this mess?”

“That’s not true,” I said.

She pointed a finger at me. “And have you forgotten that you might be the daughter of a vile man who tried to kill me and Gabe’s mother?”

He rounded on her. “That’s enough, Willie. You’ve made your point.” He turned back to me, his gaze cooler. “She’s right, though. We can’t…” He cleared his throat. “We need to set some rules for the evening before we continue.”

Willie tugged on the hem of her gold silk waistcoat and rocked on her heels. I’d seen the owners of winning racehorses look less smug. “Glad you’re seeing sense. I have two rules. No dancing together and no going off into a room just the two of you. I don’t want wagging tongues forcing Gabe into defending your honor.”

“Understood,” I said, determined to follow the rules tonight and all nights.

“At least with you here, Poison Ivy won’t lure him into a room alone.”

“I don’t need nannies,” he snapped. “She won’t lure me anywhere.”

A gentleman emerged from the thickening crowd and approached, smiling at me. “Introduce us, Glass.”

“Not now,” Gabe growled back.

The gentleman swallowed nervously and bowed out.

Gabe’s jaw firmed. “I have two more rules to add. Firstly, you don’t approach anyone from the Hobson family without me.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“Secondly, no dancing with the same gentleman more than once.”

“Why?”

“Because two dances signals that you like him.”

“Do I flatly refuse if they ask? That seems rude.”

“Pretend your feet are sore.”

Willie threw her hands in the air and muttered something I couldn’t hear as the ensemble reached a crescendo in the waltz it was playing.

“Ivy and Mrs. Hobson appear to be here without Mr. Hobson or Bertie,” Gabe went on. “They’ve already seen us, but they’re rarely together. I want to wait until they are, and also alone. That way we only have to do this once.”

I agreed to his plan.

Somewhat awkwardly, he departed after suggesting to Willie that she stay with me, since I knew no one else in the room. I wasn’t sure knowing Willie was an advantage. Everyone seemed to want to avoid us as much as she wanted to avoid them. It gave me the opportunity to study my surroundings, however. The ensemble played familiar classic tunes, so unlike the jazzy ragtime of the Buttonhole and other clubs. The dancers danced the steps they’d learned from expensive instructors, only some of which I knew.

The ladies looked like glittering jewels as they twirled, their beaded dresses shimmering in the light. Gemstones of all shapes and colors adorned throats and ears, as well as their hair and over long white gloves. I was glad I’d borrowed Daisy’s dress and necklace. I didn’t feel out of place.

That didn’t stop people from staring at me. Gabe was right. I was the oddity in their midst, the newcomer nobody knew. Only Ivy and Mrs. Hobson seemed to be ignoring me, or pretending to, but that didn’t last. Friends drew them aside and asked if they knew me, since I was clearly known to Gabe and his cousin. It must have pained Ivy to see me, but I no longer felt as much sympathy for her as I used to. Not since I’d learned about their connection to Thurlow and their investigation into me. She was complicit. She must be or she wouldn’t have asked me all those questions about my past in the library that day.

It didn’t take long before a gentleman summoned the courage to ask me to dance. I started to tell him my feet hurt, but Willie spoke over the top of me and said I’d be glad to. She gave me a little shove in his direction.

I danced with him, then accepted another dance with a second gentleman. I could feel Gabe watching us, but he didn’t stand aside and brood. He took to the dance floor too, with a different partner for each dance.

Sometime later, when my feet really did start to hurt, the butler announced that refreshments were being served. The dancers vacated the floor. Guests surged towards the tables set up in the adjoining room and I lost sight of my dance partner as I was caught in the tide.

Before I reached the tables, however, Gabe pulled me aside. “Ivy and her mother are together.”

I followed his gaze to see the two tall, regal Hobson women with their heads bent together in earnest conversation. When Ivy looked around, searching the sea of faces, I knew they’d been talking about us. She stiffened as she saw us approach and said something to her mother.

Mrs. Hobson squared her shoulders and thrust out her chin, her pride as obvious as any peacock’s. “What an unexpected surprise, Miss Ashe.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Hobson, Ivy,” I said as politely as possible.

Gabe’s greeting held an iciness that I’d never heard him use when addressing them. It made Mrs. Hobson eye him sharply.

“You look very well, Gabe,” Ivy said breathily. “I’m so pleased to see you out and about again, just like your old self.”

“We’re only here to speak to you both,” he said. “I tried calling on you, but you weren’t at home.”

“You should have telephoned,” Mrs. Hobson said, looking away. “If you’ll excuse me?—”

“A moment, please,” Gabe said. “If you won’t stay to hear what I have to say, then I’m afraid I’ll have to speak louder.”

The muscles in Mrs. Hobson’s jaw worked with her frustration.

“You’ve been speaking to a bookmaker named Thurlow,” Gabe went on.

Ivy looked like a startled creature in the moment before it darts away. Despite that, she didn’t ask us who we were referring to. Her silence condemned her.

Mrs. Hobson was more composed, but a measure of uncertainty flickered across her face. “Who?” Her delay in asking the question confirmed what we already knew. She hadn’t expected to be caught, so hadn’t prepared an excuse.

“You need to stop,” Gabe went on.

“I beg your pardon.” Mrs. Hobson’s chin extended further. “You have no right to tell me who we can and can’t talk to.”

“I can when your dealings with him affect my friend.”

Both women went utterly still. Neither spoke.

Gabe pressed further. “Sylvia’s background is none of your business.”

They remained silent.

Gabe blew out an exasperated breath, so I took over. It was the reason I’d come to the ball, after all. “Thurlow is corrupt and dangerous, and he has Gabe in his sights. Speaking to him about me gives him ammunition against Gabe, because it makes him think I’m important. Please be careful. Thurlow will extract his pound of flesh and then some. We are only warning you in the hope it’s not too late for you to end your dealings with him. Tell him you have no interest in my background and he should cease his inquiries. Besides, I’m not all that interesting. I don’t understand what you expect to gain from delving into my past.”

Ivy’s chest rose with her deep inhale. “You think we hired him—this Thurlow fellow—to investigate Sylvia?”

“Didn’t you?” Gabe asked.

Mrs. Hobson took her daughter’s arm. “Come along, Ivy. The refreshments will all be gone if we don’t hurry.”

Gabe and I watched them go, all stiff backs and heads held at a lofty angle.

“They didn’t know,” I murmured. “Were we wrong? Are they dealing with Thurlow for another reason that has nothing to do with investigating me?”

“It’s possible; but, if so, what is the reason?”

Willie emerged from the crowd in the refreshment room and handed me a glass of champagne. “What did the Hobsons say?”

“They denied it,” Gabe said. “Is that champagne for me?”

Willie sipped from the second glass.

“It seems not. Excuse me, Sylvia, but I think Willie wants me to leave you.”

Willie lifted her glass in salute. “Don’t scowl at me, Gabe. We had an agreement. I keep Sylvia company while you do whatever it is you like to do at these things.”

I watched him join the queue for food. I joined it only when there were other guests between us. It was there that I first heard the whispers and noticed the gazes. They weren’t watching me out of curiosity, as they had when I arrived. Some were taking my measure, judging me. Others had already condemned me.

“She’s not who she says she is,” whispered one, not caring that I was close enough to overhear.

“She shouldn’t be here,” said her companion. “Does anyone recognize her?”

“Apparently she has no parents, no real home…she could be the daughter of a criminal, for all we know.”

“She must be, otherwise why lie? Hold on to your jewels, ladies.”

“And warn your sons. Don’t let them be hoodwinked.”

A third woman who’d been listening now piped up. “We ought to warn the others.”

Sympathy came from an unexpected quarter. “Don’t listen to them,” Willie said. “They’re bored toffs with nothing better to do than lick the Hobsons’ boots.”

“You think the gossip originates from them?”

“Only an idiot would think it didn’t, and I know you ain’t an idiot, Sylv.”

I tried to ignore the gossip rippling around the refreshment room, but when the ripple became waves, it was impossible. Gossip even reached the hostess, although she didn’t immediately act. She might be worried that I’d create a scene if she tried to throw me out. That could be worse for her than if I stayed.

I thought her indecision meant she’d do nothing, but by the time the ensemble started playing again, she’d made up her mind. She charged towards me like a bull at an intruder in its field.

I froze. Should I take the wind out of her sails and leave of my own accord, or should I stand my ground?

Willie left me in no doubt what she wanted me to do. Not one to back away from a fight, she settled her feet apart and stared down the hostess.

But it was Gabe who rescued me. He took the glass from my hand and swept me out of the refreshment room and onto the dance floor. His firm grip and reassuring smile soothed my frayed nerves. The gossiping ladies pursed their lips tightly and renewed their commentary, but the hostess left me alone. Gabe had stamped his approval on my presence, and the son of Lord and Lady Rycroft had sway amongst this set, even though he didn’t attend many society events.

“Don’t look at them,” he murmured.

I obeyed, but found the only place left to look was at him. It was no hardship. Not in the least. I always enjoyed studying Gabe’s green eyes with the flecks of gold, the angles of his jaw, and the way his lips expressed his emotions with the merest twitch. Usually, I had to hide my stares and only study him when no one was looking. I rarely allowed myself to admire him openly.

If I wasn’t mistaken, he was admiring me, too. He wasn’t merely looking at me to prove a point to the gossips. I could see the flare of heat in his eyes as he held my gaze, feel it in the way his hand took possession of my waist and his body guided mine around the dance floor. We were a single unit, bound together by the music and our mutual desire.

I felt as though we could do anything if we were together.

The music ended too soon. The spell broke. The first person I saw was Willie, glaring at us from the edge of the dance floor.

“We broke her rule,” I said.

“Some rules don’t make sense.” Gabe gave me a tentative smile. When I returned it, he drew in a deep satisfied breath.

Willie wasn’t the only one seething on the edge of the dance floor. I was the object of bitter glares and the topic on sneering lips. Dancing with Gabe had allowed me to stay longer at the ball, but it hadn’t stopped the gossip. Now it encompassed him, too.

“I shouldn’t have come,” I said. “I’ve made everything more difficult for you with these people.”

He tilted his head to the side and arched one brow at me.

I got the message. “Right. You don’t care. But your parents might.”

“My parents spend more time with Willie and the Baileys than they do at these sorts of things. Will you dance with me again?”

I politely declined. He and his parents may not care what others thought, but there was still the matter of Melville Hendry.

I thought Willie would be pleased when I told her I was leaving, but she was a little cross. “Don’t let them bully you. You got a right to be here.”

“No, I don’t. I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m leaving, too,” Gabe said. “I’ve spoken to Ivy and her mother. There’s nothing else for me here. You can stay if you want, Willie.”

A young gentleman who’d clearly had too much champagne bumped into her as he passed. He was about to apologize but screwed up his nose as he took in her masculine attire. “Freak.”

Willie stepped towards him, closing the gap between them in a rather intimate move. The man’s eyes widened in alarm. A moment later, they filled with tears as he bent forward, protecting his nether region.

Willie stepped back. “There ain’t nothing for me here, either.”

Whispers followed us as we pushed through the crowd. They didn’t upset me anymore. Gabe’s reassurances had seen to that.

In the foyer, as we waited for a footman to bring my shawl from the cloak room, Gabe cast a gaze up the staircase. “We wondered what the Hobsons expected to gain from investigating your past, Sylvia. Now we know.”

“You reckon they did it just so they can spread rumors about her?” Willie asked. “If they thought to cause you problems, Gabe, they’re going about it wrong.”

“They don’t know that. They think I’ll be worried about being cut off from society. They think it will concern my parents when they hear that my new friend has a shadowy past. It just proves Ivy never really knew me at all.”

The footman arrived and Gabe accepted the shawl from him. He placed it around my shoulders. His fingers lightly brushed the bare skin at my neck, lingering longer than necessary.

I moved away.

Gabe looked as though he would say something, then his gaze shuttered. He lowered his hand to his side and began tapping his thumb against his thigh.

My fellow lodgers peppered me with questions about the ball over breakfast. Coming from middle-class backgrounds, they were familiar with public dance halls but not private ballrooms. They listened intently to my descriptions of the decorations, the food and ladies’ dresses, but most of their questions were about the gentlemen.

“Was your handsome Mr. Glass there?” asked one with a sly grin.

“He’s not my Mr. Glass,” I told her.

“How many dances did you dance with him?”

“Just one.”

The girl on my left glanced at Mrs. Parry, reading The Weekly Gazette at the head of the table. She lowered her voice. “Did you kiss him?”

The landlady gasped, but not because of the audacious question. Something in the newspaper had caught her eye. “Sylvia, you should read this. It’s about Mr. Glass.”

Not again.

She passed the newspaper to me. The article wasn’t very large, but its accusation was powerful. It stated that “sources close to Mr. Gabriel Glass admitted he could heal himself with magic.”

“It’s not true,” I told her. At least I didn’t have to lie.

“I never thought it was,” she said with utmost conviction. “Journalists will write anything these days. There’s nothing to stop them making things up and passing it off as truth.”

“Who is the source?” asked the girl beside me reading over my shoulder.

“Nobody, silly,” said one of the others. “The journalist made it up, like Mrs. Parry said. Poor Mr. Glass, having to continually deny claims like this. It must be taxing.”

“You ought to see if he’s all right, Sylvia,” said another. “He’ll be in need of comforting.” She sighed. Three others sighed, too, as they tucked into their sausages and eggs.

Mrs. Parry urged me to finish my breakfast quickly then call on Gabe.

I hesitated, however. I shouldn’t go. Visiting him would be against my own self-imposed ban. We were supposed to keep our distance unless working on the investigation. Besides, he didn’t need me asking after his well-being when he had good friends under the same roof to check on him.

So, I wouldn’t call on Gabe to see if he was all right. I would call on him to tell him my suspicions about Fred Laidlow’s accident. There. No one could argue with that reasoning. Not even me.

It just happened that my first question to Gabe when I saw him in the library at his house was to ask whether he’d seen the newspaper article. He was surrounded by the Sunday morning papers but hadn’t yet seen the article in The Weekly Gazette . I opened it to the relevant page.

As he read, Alex arrived. He stopped just inside the doorway. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Gabe showed him the article. “Another one. They’re getting more inventive with their theories.”

“And further away from the truth,” Alex said as he read. “Who do you think the source is?”

“It’s probably no one. The journalist made that up along with the rest of it.”

Murray arrived carrying a tray with coffeepot and cups. “Mrs. Bristow thought you might need this, Miss Ashe, after Mr. Bristow told her you looked tired.”

In my experience, saying someone looked tired was a polite way of saying they looked dreadful. “Please thank them for me.”

“You do look like you could do with a cup,” Murray said as he poured the coffee. “Late night, eh?” He winked and smiled as he handed me a cup.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Gabe asked him.

“Not really.”

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. Murray saluted him lazily before leaving, passing Willie as he went.

She yawned without covering her mouth. “Is that coffee I smell?” She grasped a cup in both hands and breathed deeply. “I reckon I’ll need a second one of these if I’m going out today.”

“We didn’t stay very late last night,” I said.

“I made sure Gabe got home safe, then I went out again.”

“To see Nurse Tilda?”

She grinned into her cup.

Alex hesitated before passing the newspaper to her. “You won’t like this.”

She swore as she read the article. “Who is this idiot?” She checked the byline. “He calls himself an inquiry journalist who exposes the truth, but there ain’t a hint of truth in any of this. It’s all hogwash.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s false if people believe it,” Alex said. “The theory that Gabe can magically heal himself gives the kidnapper another reason to run tests on him.”

“Damned Jakes,” Willie spat.

“We don’t know if it’s him,” Alex reminded her.

She tossed the newspaper onto the table. “I’ll pay the journalist a visit and find out the name of his source, then make sure he prints a retraction.”

“How will you get him to do that?” I asked.

“He won’t be able to resist the charms of my Colt.”

Gabe stood, coffee cup in hand. “You’re not going to visit him, Willie.”

“Fine. I’ll call on the Hobsons and make sure they tell the journalist they made it up.”

“We don’t know if they’re the source.”

“Course they are, Gabe.”

For once, I agreed with Willie, but before I could advise Gabe to listen to her, Alex chimed in. He also believed the Hobsons were the journalist’s source. “Who else wants to get their revenge on you? You told us what happened last night, so you know they’re capable.”

“That was different,” Gabe said. “That was gossip. This is more direct and more dangerous.”

We watched him war with himself over the notion that a family he’d once held dear was now stooping to a low act that resulted in his life being upended and his freedom curtailed. He liked to think the best of people, but even he must see the Hobsons now hated him enough to be behind this latest rumor.

I indicated the newspaper on the table. “This is gossip, too, Gabe. It’s a larger, more public platform than the ball. To be fair, if it is the Hobsons, they don’t know that these sorts of articles could fuel the kidnapper’s interest in you further. They might simply believe they’re making you unhappy.”

Willie snorted in disagreement.

Alex was on her side. “You give them too much credit, Sylvia. I don’t believe they’re as innocent as that.”

Gabe picked up the newspaper and flipped the pages to return to the front. “Whatever you all believe, no one is going to confront the Hobsons. Is that understood? They’ll eventually lose interest if we ignore this.”

Willie sat on a chair and poured herself another cup of coffee from the pot. Her morose silence left us in no doubt of her thoughts.

Gabe offered me another cup, too. “By the way, you don’t look tired.” He gave me a small smile.

Willie grabbed the cup before Gabe could pass it to me. “Last night, you made it clear you would stay away, Sylvia.”

“And I will,” I said. “Except when it involves the investigation, since it is my investigation, too.”

Gabe plucked the cup out of her hand and gave it to me. “Sylvia came to warn me about the article.”

“She could have done that over the telephone. And that article ain’t got nothing to do with the investigation.”

I thought I ought to speak up before one of them mentioned the real reason I’d come was because I wanted to be with Gabe. “I do want to discuss the investigation, as it happens. I forgot to tell you last night, but yesterday, while you were all at the racetrack, I called on Myrtle and Naomi.”

“That may not have been wise,” Alex said. “Fred might be a suspect.”

“Yes, I know. Naomi told me something interesting. He didn’t lose his hand in an accident at the factory. He lost it in the shed at home. He told his wife and sister-in-law that he was fixing furniture, but I have my doubts about the story. For one thing, surely it’s impossible to almost saw off your own hand.”

“A bad cut could have gone gangrenous,” Alex suggested.

“Within a day?” I shook my head. “Then there’s the timing. It happened just after Daniel died and before his funeral. We know someone was looking through Daniel’s belongings immediately after his death. The sisters told us the house was in a dreadful state. Someone was searching for the ledgers. When they didn’t find them in the house, perhaps they threatened Fred. When he couldn’t deliver the ledgers because he didn’t know where they were, the attacker followed through on his threat. Why would he do that if Fred knew nothing about Daniel’s ledgers? He wouldn’t. So not only must Fred have known something about the ledgers, he must also have known who wanted them. I think he knew Daniel’s killer.”

Alex and Willie exchanged worried glances, but it was Gabe’s reaction that concerned me. His grip tightened around his coffee cup, turning his knuckles white.

“Gabe?” I asked. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Do you recall that Fred told us he didn’t know Thurlow?”

“I do. He claimed he’d never heard of him, but we doubted that considering he’s a gambler and Thurlow is a well-known bookmaker.”

“We saw Fred yesterday at the races. He didn’t see us, nor did the man he spoke to. Thurlow.”

My heart skipped a beat. It was proof of a connection between them. “Fred lied that day because he didn’t want us to link the two of them.”

“Or he didn’t want Thurlow knowing he’d spoken to us. Perhaps he already lost his hand because of that link. Next time, he might lose his life.”