The clip of booted footsteps on the stone floor in the building next door captured her attention. A creak of a rusty hinge preceded the crunch of gravel. Mrs Wilmslow’s eyes lit up as a dark shadow appeared in the doorway. She rushed over and crushed the newcomer’s mouth in a kiss that spoke of lust and desperation.
Rose sucked in a breath as the gentleman dragged his mouth from Mrs Wilmslow’s ravenous lips and stepped into the room.
“Ah, Rose, and so we meet again.”
“Are you here to join the party, doctor?” Though events were proceeding as Rose expected, the lack of emotion in Taylor’s cold blue eyes confirmed he was a man determined in his evil course.
The doctor partially closed the door. “You could have avoided all this if only you’d left the book at Everleigh.”
“But how did you know I brought the book to London?” She had not seen the doctor since the day he’d escorted her back to the house. And after today, she hoped never to see him again.
“Servants talk. You’d be surprised how easy it is to gain information in my profession.”
“Lord Farleigh’s staff would never betray him.” She knew all the servants at Everleigh; they respected Christian and were loyal to a fault.
Taylor smirked. “No, not intentionally. They’re just simple folk, easy to confuse, easy to manipulate. Had you been a little more discreet when you left, I would not be standing here now.”
Those last few moments spent at Everleigh were a blur. She’d fought an internal battle, contemplated professing her love, struggled with the pain brought about by Christian’s expression of indifference. She’d snatched the book in a hurry, and hugged it to her chest as she waved a teary goodbye to a handful of servants.
“And pray what brings you here?” Disdain marked her tone now. “What is so special about a few words and numbers that would make a man disregard his integrity?”
Taylor jerked his head back but then laughed. “Do you think integrity puts food on the table? Do you think that having ethical principles makes it easier to find your way in the world?”
“So this is about money?” The need to know why burned in Rose’s chest. The look of adoration in Mrs Wilmslow’s eyes forced her to doubt her initial assessment. “Or is it about love?”
Taylor cast Mrs Wilmslow a sidelong glance. “It’s about doing what is necessary to survive.”
From the quality of the doctor’s clothes, the man was by no means struggling.
“And so you’ve spent two years persuading Lord Farleigh’s staff to drink your mysterious potions, making them sick, making them better again.” No doubt using skills he’d acquired in the apothecaries’ guild. “Why? To survive?”
“Why do you care?”
Rose lifted her chin. “A woman will do whatever it takes to protect the man she loves. In coming here, I think I deserve an explanation.”
Taylor folded his arms across his chest and gave a mocking snort. “Do you really want to know?”
“Would I have asked if I didn’t?” She tried to keep her voice even, tried to disguise the tremble that conveyed fear. If Taylor told her the truth, it meant he had no intention of letting her leave.
“Very well.” The doctor held out his hand. “Pass me the book, and I shall tell you.”
Rose reached into her coat and removed the small ledger. Dr Taylor’s eyes brimmed with excitement and perhaps a hint of relief. He stepped forward and snatched it from her hand. A brief silence ensued while he scanned the pages, though he muttered a curse when he came to the paper pocket at the back and found it empty.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs Wilmslow asked as Taylor rifled through the book.
With a growl of frustration, he held the ledger at one corner and shook it violently as if he were throttling the life out of some poor creature. “Where is it?” Taylor’s expression darkened.
“I-I don’t know what you mean.” And she didn’t. Truly.
“Where’s the damned letter?” Taylor skimmed through the pages one more time, tore the pocket from the back cover, scrunched it in his hand and threw it to the floor. “Don’t play games with me.”
Confused, Rose wasn’t sure how to answer. “Are you referring to the letters written by the reverend and sent to Lady Farleigh?”
“Obviously not,” Taylor snapped. “Why would I have any interest in Wilmslow’s immoral antics? What I want is the letter from Miss Stoneway’s aunt?”
Rose put her hand to her chest. “On my life, I have not seen the document.” Panic flared. She’d spent twenty minutes copying every address listed in the back of the book, and the names of every person mentioned. Were her efforts in vain?
Mrs Wilmslow turned to him. “Mr Watson must have removed it, hidden it somewhere else.”