Beyond the Night - eBook - Final Read online

  He shook his head.

  “Do you have any idea where I might begin looking?” she asked. As she asked, she reached across so he could touch her hand.

  He wrapped his gnarled fingers around hers with surprising strength. As quickly as he touched her, he dropped her hand as if he had been burned.

  She looked questioningly at him and he fixed her with a flinty stare.

  “You’re not telling me everything, gel.”

  Her heart lurched and she caught her breath. She cast her eyes sideways at the viscount hoping Artemis would understand her silent message.

  “I can’t help you,” he announced, standing up from his seat. “If I knew where the bracelet was, I would have unearthed it long ago.”

  She expelled her breath in disappointment and snuck a peek at Ridge who looked confused by the whole scene.

  Ridge slapped his hand on the desk as if just remembering something of import. “We should query Mrs. Alicia Unster,” he said. He turned to look at India. “The book seller I purchased Sir Roderick’s journal from mentioned that he bought it from Alicia Unster, Sir Roderick’s sister. Perhaps she has the bracelet.”

  “Sir Roderick’s sister,” Artemis said after a moment. He rubbed his forehead, a look of wonder on his face. “He found it didn’t he? After all these years, Sir Roderick was the one to find it.”

  India nodded slowly. “I have reason to believe my father may also have reached the city before his...death.”

  Artemis frowned even harder. “But he isn’t—”

  “If that is all, we really must be departing,” she said in a rush, rising from her chair so quickly she upended the stool.

  Artemis arched a wrinkled brow, but to his credit remained silent.

  “Are you well?” Ridge asked as he rose to stand beside her.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she said brightly.

  She looked hard at Artemis, silently begging him to understand and to keep her secret.

  “If you reach the city,” Artemis began, his voice reverent. “If you actually find it, you must remember every detail. I want an exact accounting. I must know if all I think is correct.”

  “I won’t leave a single detail out,” she promised.

  “Before you go. You should know that I have been approached by a man about the bracelet.”

  Ridge whipped his head around. “What man? Why did you say nothing before now?”

  Artemis glared at the viscount. “Respect your elders, boy. I wasn’t asked. That is why I didn’t speak.”

  India laid a hand on the old man’s wrinkled arm. “He is just worried, Artemis. We’ve had several brushes with danger in the past days. We believe someone is trying to prevent us from finding the city.”

  “I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” Artemis said, bobbing his head up and down.

  “What about this man,” Ridge broke in impatiently. “What did he look like? What did he ask?”

  Artemis continued to glower at Ridge. “I don’t know what he looked like. I wasn’t close enough to see how pretty he was. He asked about Gabriel’s Bracelet and if knew of anyone who could decipher Pagorian script.”

  India sucked in her breath. It could only be the person responsible for the theft of the journal. Who else would need someone to translate the writing?

  “I pled ignorance, of course,” Artemis said, beaming at his apparent genius.

  “Thank you, Artemis. You’ve been helpful as always.”

  She turned to Ridge and motioned for them to walk toward the door. Artemis scurried over to unlock the row of locks then preceded them from the room.

  He led them back into the shop, and as she and Ridge started for the entrance, he spoke up.

  “There is one thing.”

  She and Ridge turned back to him.

  “The man had an intriguing tattoo on the back of his right hand. I saw it when he reached for the doorknob.”

  She froze, and Ridge stiffened beside her.

  “It’s the same man,” he muttered.

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?” She remembered that tattoo from her encounter with the man in her bedchamber, but she was sure she hadn’t spoken of it to Ridge.

  “I questioned the book seller I purchased the journal from. He said that a man with a strange tattoo had been poking around his shop, asking about the journal and about Pagoria.”

  “The man who broke into my house that first day you approached me, he had the same tattoo,” she murmured.

  Ridge frowned and muttered an oath. “He is also likely the person who accosted you and stole the journal from my study.”

  She nodded.

  “It would appear you both should take great care,” Artemis spoke up. “Your man seems quite determined to succeed in his goal.”

  They left the book shop and climbed into Ridge’s waiting carriage. Before closing the door, Ridge leaned out and gave the driver a direction she was unfamiliar with.

  He leaned back in, closing the door behind him. Despite her best effort, as soon as the door shut, her chest tightened and she struggled to breath. She shook her head, willing the panic not to take over. In and out. In an out. Slowly, her breathing evened out and she felt the awful fear start to dissipate. Relief poured over her.

  She looked up to see Ridge staring at her, questions hovering on his lips. To prevent unwanted explanations, she hastily asked, “Do you know where Mrs. Unster lives?”

  He stared at her for a bit longer then shook his head. “We’re paying a visit to the proprietor of a book shop where I purchased the journal. We can find out how to reach her through him.”

  India nodded and leaned back in her seat. Her head was beginning to ache rather vilely, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to alleviate the tension in her temples.

  “What was all that about back there?” Ridge asked.

  Her eyes flew open and she directed her gaze on him. “What was what?”

  “How did he know so much about the city and in particular, the bracelet? No one’s ever found it, and yet he knows exactly which drawing is accurate?”

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead, the pounding beginning in earnest. “Artemis is...well, he’s different.”

  “I gathered that much,” Ridge said dryly.

  “He has the ability...to see...to see certain things that others cannot,” she said carefully.

  “A predictor of the future?” he asked with an arched brow.

  “Sometimes. Other times he just sees events. Items. He is convinced that it’s God’s way of teasing him. Showing him just enough to give him certain knowledge about smaller pieces, yet never revealing the larger questions or answers.”

  Ridge smiled sardonically. “Rather convenient, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged. “Artemis’s ability or lack thereof is inconsequential. But I’ve known him long enough to know that he is seldom wrong about things. Whether it’s a striking coincidence, I cannot say. But I pay attention when he speaks.”

  Ridge didn’t speak further, but he regarded her skeptically. It wasn’t unexpected. This was a man who balked at any impractical notion. Such as her father’s theory that Pagoria was not a dead civilization.

  A small smile battled the corners of her lips, and she pressed them together to prevent them from turning upwards. She’d love to see his expression when he saw her father was right. But he wouldn’t, she reminded herself. Not if her plan was successful.

  The carriage jolted to a stop, and she leaned forward to view their surroundings. Ridge descended the steps and held out hand to assist her down.

  His fingers slid over hers before gripping her hand tightly, and warmth spread rapidly up her arm. Comforting warmth. A sensation she was loathe to end.

  As they stood on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop, she reluctantly pulled her hand from his. Ridge gestured toward the door, and they hurried forward.

  The shop was modest, but a far cry from A
rtemis’ ramshackle offering. It was clean, the books arranged in neat rows on dusted shelves. Wall sconces lit the interior, lending brightness and warmth to the room.

  “Hullo?” Ridge called out.

  His voice echoed across the room. Silence was the only response.

  An uneasy feeling crept down her spine as she looked around. “Maybe he’s in the back?” she offered.

  Ridge frowned but started toward the back. India followed, her nervousness growing. She was being silly. She acted as if there was evil at every turn, waiting to leap out at her. Still, she moved closer to Ridge’s back, seeking comfort from his solid frame.

  Of its own volition, her hand crept out to grasp his arm. He paused a moment then reached back to take her hand. As he turned his head, their eyes connected for the briefest moment before he pulled her ahead with him.

  The office located in the rear of the shop was open, the door gaping widely. Ridge stopped abruptly causing her to collide with his back. He turned, shielding her with his large body.

  “Go back outside,” he directed. “There is no need for you to see this.”

  She pulled away from him and craned her neck to see into the office. “What is it? What has happened?”

  When he didn’t move, she shoved against him. She managed to budge him enough to see into the office, and she gasped in horror.

  A man sat slumped over a desk, blood pooling from his head.

  “Is he...dead?” she whispered.

  Ridge sighed and let go of her. “I didn’t want you to see this,” he muttered. “Yes, he’s dead.”

  She sidestepped him and entered the office. “Do you find it the least bit coincidental that the man who sold you the journal is now dead?”

  Ridge bent over the man and pressed his fingers to the man’s neck. “He hasn’t been dead long,” he reported. “His skin is still quite warm. The blood is still oozing from the wound in his head.”

  He looked back up at India, noting her pallor. On the heels of her attack, her second attack, this latest incident was most unsettling. She tried valiantly to disguise her fear, but he knew she was thinking about the man who had broken into his study and stolen the journal.

  “I do not believe in coincidences,” he said, finally answering her question.

  “Neither do I,” she whispered. “That someone is willing to murder to discover the city. It seems incomprehensible.”

  Knowledge flared in her eyes, and she looked away as if remembering some important fact. He studied her, trying to decipher her thoughts. What had she remembered?

  He glanced down at the book seller, feeling regret that the man had suffered for no other reason than a favor he had done for Ridge. A piece of paper gripped tightly in the man’s hand drew Ridge’s attention.

  Ridge carefully withdrew the piece of paper then pulled on his spectacles so he could read the writing. His heart thudded when he read Mrs. Alicia Unster’s name and her direction. Had the intruder come here looking for information about Mrs. Unster? If so, she could, even now, be in grave danger.

  He and India must hasten to Mrs. Unster’s residence and pray they weren’t too late. But first, he needed to summon the magistrate.

  Chapter Eight

  Ridge gripped India’s cold hand in his and squeezed comfortingly. “This is the direction listed on the paper I found in the book seller’s hand.”

  He wondered if she had even noticed the carriage coming to a stop. She blinked and glanced quickly around then back at him as if covering her fear. Her uneasiness in the closed confines of the carriage was ever present. She often held her breath, and the wisps of hair at her forehead were suspiciously damp.

  Her hands were like blocks of ice, and he rubbed his fingers over hers in an effort to warm them. He wanted to ask about her paralyzing fear of enclosed spaces. And the dark. Udaya had said she was unable to bear the dark.

  Disappointing really. He loved the night.

  The carriage door opened, and he slid over on the seat then climbed down the step. He reached back for India’s hand, satisfied when she curled it trustingly around his.

  “You don’t suppose...” she began as she climbed down beside him.

  “Suppose what?”

  “That we are too late,” she finished after a swallow.

  “I pray we are not,” he said grimly. “Someone wants the information we have very badly. We must proceed with extreme caution in our plans.”

  She nodded and gripped his hand tighter as they walked up the stone path to the front door of the modest townhome. On the fringes of what would be considered the upper echelons of society, the residence was still in a very respectable location.

  He knocked and waited for a response.

  Almost immediately the door swung open and a young man peered curiously at them. As if remembering some important duty, he straightened his stance and adopted a most severe expression.

  “Your card please,” he said with exaggerated stiffness.

  Ridge raised his brow, but dug into his pocket for the requested item.

  The young man reached for the card then cleared his throat several times. “I will inform Mrs. Unster that your grace, er uh your lordship wishes to see her.”

  His accent flipped from forced eloquence to a more base sound, one Ridge couldn’t quite place, but it was becoming clearer that this man didn’t belong in the position of a butler. Or a footman for that matter.

  The man started to walk away, leaving Ridge and India standing in the doorway, then he turned around and rushed back.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord. Please come this way.”

  His face burned bright red at his slip in propriety, and Ridge suppressed a smile.

  They followed the butler into the sitting room where he gestured for them to sit down.

  “I’ll inform Mrs. Unster of your presence,” he said before hurrying from the room.

  India sat down on the settee and Ridge claimed an armchair a few feet away. They glanced at each other, and Ridge could still see uneasiness in her eyes. A few moments later, an elderly woman bustled into the room and relief showed stark in India’s expression.

  “Hullo there. I’m Mrs. Unster,” she sang out as she swept forward.

  Ridge rose and captured her extended hand, brushing a kiss over the top of her glove.

  “Viscount Ridgewood at your service, madam. And this is India Ashton,” he said gesturing toward India who was now standing in front of the settee.

  Mrs. Unster swung around to stare at India. “Oh you poor dear!” She rushed over and immediately enfolded India in her arms.

  “I heard of your father. A most unfortunate event. The world has lost not one, but two adventurous souls.”

  India stood awkwardly in the woman’s embrace, her eyes finding Ridge and looking at him in confusion.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Unster,” she said huskily. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother.”

  Mrs. Unster let her go and waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh pish and posh. I never saw the old coot anyway. He was always off in some far flung corner of the world trying to uncover some artifact.”

  She looked back at Ridge. “I apologize if James offended you.”

  He stared blankly at her. “James?”

  “The young man who answered the door,” she explained. “You see, he’s not truly a butler. Or even trained as a household employee. But I have a soft heart, and he needed a position.” She nodded her head sagely. “He’ll learn soon enough.”

  Ridge cleared his throat. “I am sure he will make a fine butler.”

  Mrs. Unster pressed her hands together in front of her and extended her clasped fingers in front of her in delight. “It is so marvelous to have callers. I vow, it’s been an entire year since I had one.” She released her hands and put a hand to her mouth in horror. “Oh heavens, what must you think of me? I haven’t even offered you any refreshment.”

  Before Ridge could re
spond or tell her none were necessary, she scurried off. He glanced over at India who looked to be valiantly stifling laughter.

  He settled down in his seat once more, convinced this wasn’t going to be an abbreviated visit. He jumped when he heard a series of clanging and banging from another part of the house. He moved to the edge of his seat, wondering if, in light of recent events, he should be concerned about Mrs. Unster.

  He relaxed when she reappeared in the doorway, an embarrassed smile lighting her face.

  “James will serve the refreshments,” she announced, moving aside so the young man could enter the room.

  James moved slowly, awkwardly, the tray balanced precariously as he edged toward the sideboard. Ridge let out a sigh of relief when James set it safely down. What a mixed up household Mrs. Unster had.

  He accepted the cup James extended to him and glanced over to see India accept one as well. Odd, but it didn’t feel warm. He might have expected coffee or perhaps watered-down tea.

  Determined not to be impolite, he raised the cup and took a swallow of the liquid. He immediately coughed, the strong whiskey burning a trail down his throat. Good heavens, it was straight alcohol.

  India’s eyes widened over her cup as she, too, drank. She lowered the drink and set it primly in her lap.

  “Now, Lord Ridgewood, is there something you wanted?” Mrs. Unster asked, as she partook of her own drink.

  He leaned forward, setting the cup to the side. “As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you about Sir Roderick’s belongings. In particular a bracelet he may have had in his possession when he died.

  A peculiar light entered her eyes and her hand shook as she handed her cup back to James. “More of your special tea, James. If you please.”

  James readily poured another dose and handed the cup back to her. Armed with a fresh dram of whiskey, she gripped the cup and looked straight at Ridge.

  “I do have a bracelet. Odd little piece it is. Not at all something one would want to wear to a social gathering.”

  India leaned forward eagerly. “May we see it, Mrs. Unster? It is very important that we recover that artifact.”