Page 6 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
Annoying Applegate was an easy enough task for Mathias, often with humorous results. Another time, perhaps, he would have done it. Just now, he found he did not have the energy for the endeavor.
Peter wouldn't ask about the nightmares, he knew. He'd asked enough over the years, and had always gotten the same vague answer.
They stop when I’m at sea.
So he didn't ask, even though the question hung heavy in the air between them and both were as keenly aware of it as if it had been spoken.
Mathias could not explain why he was only ever free of them when forced to think on his feet, only truly at peace when he could not stand on solid ground. He didn’t care about the why, only that there was solace available.
"All right," Peter said at last, conceding defeat. "Shall we see about the pudding, then? It should be served by now."
The suggestion made Mathias smile, and even won a begrudging smirk from his friend. If all else fails, one may always be comforted with sweets.
They stood and headed together toward the broad approach of Meridian House, falling into easy conversation about anything at all but what truly mattered.
And for that, Mathias was grateful.
CHAPTER2
If there was a single lesson to be taken away from the last two years of her life, Jade Ferris had learned this: pretty men are not to be trusted.
Oh, one might think that such cynicism had been imposed upon her, likely by the two spinsters who had welcomed her into their London flat after the fire. Certainly, her guardian, Zelda Smith, had no fondness for any man whatsoever, aside from perhaps her nephew Peter.
But, no, Zelda had never pressed such thoughts onto her new ward. She hadn't needed to. What she did instead was invite Jade to work in her little shop below the flat, where all the secret gossip of London was on open display.
It was a stylish window front on Bond Street, selling scandal sheets, circulars, and notoriously beloved satirical prints—each of which depicted a given rumor or shocking happening in stunning, highly suggestive illustrated detail.
Pretty men were depictedveryoften.
They were depicted alongside the poor women who did not know to heed them with suspicion, and oft commented quite harshly upon the ruinous outcome. Worse, there was no sympathy for the ladies caught in their snares, and the customers that breezed through the door were all too happy to chuckle indulgently at the folly of some poor miss whose life was now forever tarnished.
Those prints had taught Jade more about the realities of life outside of her mother's house than any tutor ever could have. It wasn't strictly proper, of course, but Jade was grateful for the education. It had made her feel less adrift in an alien sea and more prepared for the hidden claws of Society.
She had not felt shy nor disadvantaged with the customers of Mrs. Smith's Fine Prints. It had been an arena in which she felt properly armed, ready for those who might appear and speak to her. It wasn't like today, a wide, green lawn under an open sky, full of people she had never seen before in her life, whose reasons for looking at or speaking to her were a mystery, full of unfathomable potential.
She kept having to remind herself to breathe.
To be perfectly clear, Jade had fostered reservations about this upcoming journey from the start. They hadn't suddenly come into being with the appearance of the pretty man. It was only that they seemed sharper now, more persistent.
After all, she had no desire to leave Bond Street. She had found a good rhythm there, a good life, a comfortable happiness. Mrs. Smith even said fairly often that her books had never been in better order, clearly pleased with Jade's penchant for numbers and organization.
Yes, the war had ended. And yes, she had known that the end of the war could finally allow for a message from her parents.
She had imagined that one day, a passenger ticket would arrive in the post. She would pull it from its envelope and read the scrawl on the heavy parchment, designating a date, a time, and some unknown port, far away and in safety, where they had begun their new life. She would pack a small valise and she would travel alone, keeping to herself in a cabin berth on some well-worn, sturdy old ship, and arrive on a dock where, at last, she would reunite with her mother and meet her father, face-to-face.
She had imagined a quick and simple thing. She had imagined it in a vague and hazy future, far enough away to push from her mind as she built the new pattern of her daily life.
Instead, cryptic instructions had arrived with the word "urgent" writ all over the envelope. It hadn't even been addressed to her, but rather to Zelda.
The letter decreed that Jade wasnotto be sent directly to her parents. There was no passenger liner, no private berth, but rather a fool's errand to France, for which she would need to find her own transportation. She was tasked with retrieving her inheritance. That is all it said,her inheritance.God only knew what it could be, only that this inheritance would be lost if the matter were not undertaken immediately, before the arrival of summer.
"It is because the troops are being sent home," Zelda had explained to her, frowning, her silver eyes peering over the tops of her half-moon spectacles. "The woman you met, Pauline Olivier, must have been keeping something that was meant to belong to you.
"It would have been safe in their home in Marseille, but when they fled some years ago, their house was taken over by the authorities. All of the possessions therein would have been gathered up and stored by wartime intelligence, in the hopes of finding clues to their smuggling operation or luring them back home. The forts and armories are being emptied out now, and as quickly as possible, which means that all of the things taken from the Olivier house will be sold or disposed of."
"What is this inheritance?"
"I thought you might know," Zelda had replied with some surprise. "I've certainly no idea, but I imagine it is something of great value, from the tone of this missive. We will need to set about arranging for your journey immediately, and have you en route the instant that winter breaks."
