A man stood just a few feet from her. He stared at her over the open book in his hands. The feeling of being watched hadn’t been a product of her overactive imagination. She spun around and rushed back the way she’d come. She picked up her skirts and ran up one corridor and down another, praying she was headed back to the main area of the shop.
Rounding the end of the towering bookshelf, she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone followed her. The space behind her was empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took one last glance back and ran into the solid form of a man.
His hands came up to grasp her arms. Olivia wasn’t sure if he held her to keep her from falling or to keep her from escaping. She gave his chest a hard shove and pulled free. “What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something from you?” he asked.
“You were watching me back there.”
“Was I now?” A grin played at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, you were and now you are in front of me, keeping me from passing.” Olivia took stock of his appearance. If she needed to describe him later to a Bow Street Runner perhaps, she wanted to be able to give as many details as possible. He was tall, but not overly so. While dressed in the latest fashion, the colors he wore were not. The dark gray could have meant he was still in mourning, but somehow she doubted it.
“Mayhap you are keeping me from passing. It is possible I just happened to look at you back there for no particular reason at all.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You were holding your book upside down which means you weren’t even attempting to read it.”
The man dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Lazarus said you were intelligent.”
“W-w-who?” Olivia stood on her toes in an attempt to look over his shoulder, hoping to see someone, anyone, she could call to for help if necessary.
“Come now, there’s no need to pretend. I know you and he are friends.” He took a step forward.
Olivia stumbled back, eager to keep some modicum of space between them. “He and I aren’t friends. We are no more than acquaintances, and I am hesitant to claim even that.”
“Are you hesitant because you’re afraid of having your name bandied about with his? That claiming a friendship would somehow sully your reputation?” Anger flared in his eyes.
A harsh bark of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. “Apparently Lazarus hasn’t told you everything about me. My reputation is already plagued by scandal, and I am barely tolerated by the members of society and then only because they have little choice in the matter if they don’t wish to be ostracized themselves. A friendship with Lazarus could hardly do more damage.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “You might be surprised,” he murmured.
“Now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity about me, may I pass?”
“Actually, I came in search of you to ask a favor.”
“Let me guess. Lazarus has gotten himself shot again and needs medical attention.” Olivia sighed. “I need to find my maid, and then we can go to him.”
“Lazarus is well. At least he was when I last saw him two days ago. The favor I ask for is for myself.”
“But I don’t even know you.” Olivia hated the plaintive sound in her voice. How did tending to a man’s bullet wound lead her to this?
The man gave a formal bow. “Finch at your service.”
Olivia inclined her head in acknowledgement of his manners. “What can I do for you, Mr. Finch?” She hoped it wasn’t a question she would regret later.
“No mister. Just Finch.” He looked around as though he wanted to make sure no one was in hearing distance, then gave a negative shake of his head. “Would you join me for dinner?”
“Dinner? That’s the favor you want?”
He smiled, laughter lighting his blue eyes. “No, I’d like to make my request over dinner. I’m hoping a good meal will induce you to agree to help me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t accept invitations from complete strangers. I’m more than happy to hear you out, but…” She let her voice trail away.
Reaching out, he took her hand in his, the warmth of his gloved hand permeating hers. “What can I do to convince you to share a meal with me?”
She gently extricated her hand. “If Lazarus will agree to join us, I will have dinner with you.”
All expression slipped from Mr. Finch’s face. “I’d prefer if he didn’t join us.”
Olivia took a step back. It was as she suspected. The man before her was no friend of Lazarus, an enemy more likely, and one hoping to use her against him.
As though he read her thoughts, he closed the distance between them. “I mean neither you nor Lazarus harm. I am his friend. In fact, we are also in business together. The Two Deuces, perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“The gaming hell?” She eyed the bookshelf to her right. Were there any books heavy enough to knock him unconscious?
He grimaced at her words. “It’s much more than a gaming hell.”
She slid an oversized volume on the Roman Empire from the stack. “If you are truly friends with Lazarus, why do you not want him to join us?”
As though knowing her intention, Mr. Finch took the book from her and set it back on the shelf. “Every man has secrets he wishes to keep that way.”
“Even from his business partner?”
“Since it has little or nothing to do with the business, yes.”
If there was any one thing Olivia was grateful she learned during her years on the battlefield, it was how to tell those people who were genuine from those who were trying to manipulate you to serve their own purpose. Sensing he was telling the truth, she hoped she wasn’t about to make one of the biggest mistakes of her life. “If I agree to have dinner with you, would you allow me to bring someone else?”
“It would depend on who that person would be?”
“My biggest footman along with a loaded pistol, should there be need of it,” Olivia said, completely serious.
Mr. Finch laughed. “You may bring your footman and his pistol.” He wiped his eye. “Now I see why Lazarus speaks so highly of you. A practical woman is hard to find.”
“He thinks no more of me than any other woman of his acquaintance. We are helping each other look into familial matters, nothing more.”
“Hmm.”
The fact that Mr. Finch couldn’t have been more obvious in his disbelief rankled. Olivia started to say more but changed her mind. Her protests would only serve to make him believe her even less than he did now.
“Shall I call for you this evening then?”
“Where will we be dining?” She had no intention of getting into a carriage with a stranger, friend of Lazarus or not. If a busy street hadn’t deterred Patrick from threatening her that first time, who knew what could happen in a closed carriage.
“As I can hardly take you to a gentleman’s club, I thought we’d dine at The Brass Key.”
“Very well. I shall meet you there at seven this evening. Is that acceptable?” Olivia raised an eyebrow in question. If she was going to have dinner with the man, it would be on her terms.
“You’re not concerned about being seen in public with me?” Mr. Finch asked.
“Should I be?”
He raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug just as Bridget came rushing around the opposite corner.
She skidded to a stop inches before crashing into Mr. Finch. He held out a hand to steady her, but she took a quick step back. “There you is, Miss. I was thinkin’ ye’d gone and left me.” She reached past Mr. Finch and grabbed Olivia by the arm, pulling her forward with surprising strength. “We gots ta go. You’s gonna be late meeting Lady Margaret.”
At a complete loss as to why Bridget was acting the way she was, Olivia allowed the young maid to all but push her around the corner and up the next corridor.
“Seven this evening, Miss St. Germaine. I’ll be waiting,” Mr. Finch called after her.
She managed a quick look back and a nod of acknowledgement before Bridget rushed her out of the aisle and into the next one. Within minutes they stood outside in front of the carriage, barely taking the time to purchase the two books Olivia forgot she even had and one for Bridget.
The footman quickly opened the door and lowered the step. “Thank you, Daniel.”
She took a seat and adjusted her skirts while she waited for Bridget to settle herself as well. The young woman kept looking out the window as though watching for someone. Had she been accosted in the shop while Olivia had been speaking with Mr. Finch?
As the carriage began to move, the maid released a huge sigh and slumped back against the plush cushions.
“What happened? Why are you so overset?”
“What happened?” the maid squeaked. “Do ye know who ya was talkin’ to?”
“Mr. Finch. He said he was a businessman and friends with Lazarus. He needs to ask a favor of me.”
“Any favors that man wants, ye don’t need to be knowing about, much less doin’.” Bridget sat forward. “Him being friends with Lazarus should tell you he ain’t someone ye should be knowing.”
Olivia tried to hold her temper. While she was grateful for the maid’s concern, she did not like being taken to task by her. “Nonetheless, I agreed to meet him this evening and hear him out.”
“Oh, me lord.” Bridget made the sign of the cross in front of herself. “Trouble loves ye the way me brother loves eatin’ jam tarts.”
It was all Olivia could do not to roll her eyes at her companion’s theatrics. “I’ll be fine. Daniel will accompany me.”
“I’m guessing there ain’t no way I can change your mind.”
Olivia shook her head. “I agreed to meet him, and I will. I didn’t, however, agree to help him with whatever he’s going to ask of me.”
“I’m sorry for saying so, miss.” Bridget looked down at her hands. “But you keep helping men ye don’t know, ye may find yourself in the briars with no way out.”
Olivia couldn’t argue with the logic of that. She still carried a slight mark on her neck to prove it. She was already having second thoughts about agreeing to have dinner with a man she didn’t know, hadn’t even been properly introduced to. How trustworthy was a man who stalked a woman in a bookstore in an effort to get her alone, even if it was just to talk? “What do you know of Mr. Finch?”
“He says he’s a friend of Lazarus. That’s reason enough to stay clear of him.”
“But you asked Daniel to send for Lazarus the night I was accosted.”
“Aye, I did. I hoped if he knewed ye was hurt, he’d put it about ye was under his protection. I didn’t want ye getting hurt again.”
“Well, your thinking must have been right because the man who attacked me hasn’t come near me again.” Knowing servants were well versed in the gossip about London, Olivia asked the one question she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to. “What do you know of Lazarus?”
“No more’n you. He come to the house in the middle of the night, gut shot, looking for Sir Phillip. His man held a pistol on you. They knocked you in the head. Ain’t that enough to know he ain’t a good man?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes good men get into situations beyond their control. War is a lot like that. As a soldier, a man has no choice but to follow orders even if he doesn’t want to, else he’s branded a traitor, a coward, or worse, a deserter if he walks away from a battle.” Olivia rubbed her temple. She felt a headache forming over her left eye.
“He ain’t no soldier, and there ain’t no war here in London. I don’t think he follows orders, I think he gives them.”
“Be that as it may, he’s agreed to help me find Sir Phillip in return for me helping him gain entrance to certain society gatherings. I can hardly go back on my word.”
Bridget slumped back against the seat. “I guess not, but it don’t mean I won’t keep worryin’.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” Olivia closed her eyes, willing the headache to subside before it took hold. A sudden thought struck her, and she opened her eyes. “Who is Lady Margaret? I’m sure I had no plans to meet anyone today.”
“Oh.” The maid looked around the coach, not meeting her gaze. “She be me cat.”
****
Olivia stood outside The Brass Key, feeling much like she had when she attended to her first patient on her own. She pressed a hand to her stomach in an attempt to settle the nerves tumbling about there. She touched a hand to her hair, then to the modest neckline of her light blue gown. What was she doing here, about to partake of a meal with a complete stranger? Why hadn’t she sent a note to Will, asking him if he did indeed know Mr. Finch as the other man claimed? What if this was all some sort of plot to force Will to do something he didn’t want to do, or couldn’t do?
“Miss Olivia? Are you all right? I can take you home.”
Olivia gave Daniel a reassuring smile, her gaze taking in his great height, broad shoulders, and big hands. If she needed protection, he was more than able to provide it. “No, I’m fine. You do have the pistol I gave you?”
“Yes...” He hesitated. “I’m just not sure why you gave it to me. Are you expectin’ trouble like the night I was visitin’ my sister?” He referred to the night Will had first appeared in Olivia’s life.
“I’m not certain. I hope not. I just want you to be prepared to use the pistol if you need to, not just to protect me, but yourself as well.”
“I’m ready.” He patted his side where the gun sat under his livery jacket.
“Let’s go in then, shall we?” She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Aromas of freshly baked bread, well cooked meat, and vegetables filled the air. She sniffed again. One thing she wouldn’t regret about this evening would be the meal. Anything that smelled this wonderful had to taste just as good.
A balding man hurried forward, his clothing neat but showing wear at the cuffs. “May I help you, my lady?”
“Yes, I…um…” Olivia stumbled over her words, not sure if she should correct the man in his form of address.
“She will be dining with me this evening.”
Olivia turned to find Mr. Finch standing behind her. Had he only just arrived, or had he seen her attack of nerves outside? His expression gave nothing away.
“Very well. I have a private dining room ready if you’ll follow me.” The proprietor turned and led the way through the crowded common room to a door off to the side.