Keeper of My Dreams (St. John Series Book 4) (9 page)

London’s head shot upward. A look of confusion, then concern crossed her face. She had the tip of the quill in her mouth as she chewed on its end. “These books are a mess. Who has been tending them?”

Eli ignored the question. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hmm? Oh!” she replied as her eyes grew wide with excitement. “I was bored and began exploring your home. It was a good thing, too, because whoever has been doing your bookkeeping is doing a horrendous job. But don’t worry because I have already balanced the ledgers for this month as well as located some discrepancies.”

“You need to keep your nose in your own affairs and not in my family’s,” Eli barked as he crossed the room to her.

“Well, someone needs to. Whoever this,” she looked down at the papers again and ran her index finger over the ledger, “Richard Hawsley is needs to be dismissed and imprisoned. He has embezzled close to one hundred pounds over the past two years.”

“What?!”

“It would be easy to miss, especially if you weren’t watching and trusted this individual. But come see for yourself,” she said as she pointed to the papers in her hand.

Eli picked up the ledger and looked at the figures. Grimacing, she stood and rounded the desk to him, pointing to the figures. “You see here, he had a budget amount of twenty pounds and eighteen shillings, but on the records he spent only twenty pounds and eight shillings, in turn keeping the extra ten shillings for himself. He smudged the last part of the word eight, to make it look like he was actually turning in the correct amount.”

As Eli studied the figures, he clenched his jaw. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered.

“He’s been doing it for quite some time but not on every receipt. Some receipts were correct, others not. It appears that he has been trying to cover his tracks . . . making the discrepancies look like clerical errors and not of his own doing, but there is a pattern. It took me a little while, but I figured it out.”

“What is the pattern?”

“Well, if I have figured it correctly, he should try it again this time. Then he will take a break for one and do it again. Then take a break for two and so forth until on the fifth time, he resets. I take it he doesn’t travel great distances since the entire cycle takes less than two months.”

“He makes local runs.” Eli looked up at the sea nymph, amazed at her detective work. Considering all that she had been through, how she could figure this complicated matter out, but still not remember who she was, baffled him. “Thank you for your assistance on this matter.”

She gave him a brilliant smile and Eli felt his heart skip a beat. “You are very welcome. And please forgive me for calling you a prostitute. I have no excuse for my actions except the medication that Natasha gave me made me act and behave in ways that are not in my nature.”

“You know your nature?”

“Well, no,” she answered as she shrugged her shoulders. “But it just didn’t feel right saying those things. I felt and thought I was in a dream, making me behave in such an emboldened manner.”

“Apology accepted.”

She bestowed another radiant smile in his direction. “Fabulous! Now that you have forgiven me for that, I hope you will forgive your sister for killing your shrubbery.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, when I told Madison that the drug was making me act and feel strange, she poured the entire bottle out the window. I’m afraid to say that your roses are beginning to wilt,” she informed him as she pointed to the window.

Eli walked to the window and looked out. Sure enough, the lovely pink rosebush did not look as lush and green as normal. There were several pink buds with a brownish tint to them. “Egad. If her concoction damaged the roses, what must it have done to you?”

“Who knows?” she said as she shrugged again. “You’re questioning what she puts in her herbal remedies. She wears a chicken foot around her neck . . . that should be your answer.”

“You sound like my sister.”

“And that is a bad thing, Lord St. John?”

He laughed. It was the first time he had done so in several days. “No, I suppose not. And please, call me Eli.” He turned and walked back over to the desk. “What other issues have you found?”

“I take it you are the one who handles the ledgers?”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

She furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose at him. She then looked nervously about. “Maybe Natasha has been poisoning your food. Why else would a financial guru not notice those discrepancies?”

“You
have
been talking to Madison too much.”

“Did I really call you a prostitute?”

“You just apologized for it.”

“Well, yes, but I just wanted to make certain,” she told him as she tilted her head to the left.

“Yes, you did call me a male prostitute, after you stripped down naked.”

“I did what?!”

He looked at her owl-eyed expression and laughed again. Her blistered face had turned red again from shock. “It’s quite all right. I am not unfamiliar with the female body.”

“You are mine!”

“Not anymore.”

“You looked?!” she screeched.

“Everyone looked.”

“Oh, God,” she said as she sank down in her chair. Placing her head in her hands, she continued, “I’m afraid I don’t remember that. Who else was there?”

“Just Marina and me.”

“Who’s Marina?”

“No one you should concern yourself with.”

The memory of that night flooded her mind just as soon as she mentioned Marina’s name. She placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no! I threw my shirt at her. No, wait . . . she insulted me. She called me a hideous wench! I should have thrown something harder at her . . . like a rock . . . or better yet, Natasha’s pain medication. Maybe it would have wilted her, that loudmouth trollop!”

The corner of Eli’s mouth twitched as he listened to her ramble about that night. “Don’t worry yourself, London. The damage is done and I have remedied the situation. Marina will no longer be visiting.”

“Did you remove her?”

“Pardon?”

“She was your mistress, wasn’t she?”

Eli scowled. “That is not a discussion we should be having. But, no, she was not my mistress. She is a local widow an—”

“So is that a new term for Jezebel?”

Eli closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was babbling like she did the night she called him a male prostitute. Maybe Natasha’s medication was still affecting her. “No. Her husband died.”

“Oh,” she said as she held up her hand, silencing his explanation. “So she was using you to fill the void of her husband. You shouldn’t allow her to use you that way. You seem like a nice enough gent. You could do better.”

He just stared at her in disbelief. Never in all his years did he ever have to deal with a woman who was so addled. He turned his gaze away from her and to the portrait of Meredith. A dark look came over him. He closed his eyes and looked at the painting again. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn that Meredith was laughing at him. He turned to look at London who was watching him with wide-eyed innocence. He then fixated on the broken door. He stormed out, hoping to run into his newfound brother again. Maybe he could piss Max off to the point Max would just kill him and get him out of his current hell.

Chapter Eleven

London drew her brows together as she watched Eli storm out of the study. “What a temperamental man.”

“Yuh ‘ave nuh idea,” Natasha replied from the door.

London tilted her head sideways as she watched the servant walk to the broken door. “Has he always been this way?”

Natasha gave a weak smile. “Nuh. Him used ta be ah ‘oppy mon. Him used ta laugh an joke an smile. An wat ah beautiful smile it was.”

“What happened?”

Natasha fixed her gaze upon the painting. “Shi died.”

London turned her eyes upon the painting of the woman. “Who was she?”

“Shi wuz iz wife. Shi passed almost five years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” London replied.

“Shi made him ‘oppy. Him used ta be surly an cranky. But wen him married Miz Meredith, shi changed him. Him became ‘oppy.”

“What happened to her?”

A sorrowful expression crossed Natasha’s face. “Shi was murdered by anoda mon. An evil mon. Him ran har down an killed har an der unborn chile.”

London’s mouth dropped. No words would form. No wonder Eli seemed so unhappy. “Did they hang the man?” Her question was barely over a whisper.

Natasha shook her head. “Him got wey wid it. Him murdered Miz Meredith and did nah spend ah day inna prison.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s wat eats at Masta Eli. Shi haunts him. Har death haunts him. Him will nah rest ‘til him avenges har.”

“So why hasn’t he?”

“I duh nah know, chile. Him has been to England mony times since shi passed. Each time him returns, ‘iz nightmares are worse, ‘iz moods are bleaker.”

“She is the one he calls for,” London said as she looked at Natasha. “I hear him yell for her at night. I thought he was just having a bad dream about an enemy or a love that he could not reach.”

“’Ow mony times has him woken yuh?”

“It was nightly. However, last night it was quiet. I didn’t hear a sound other than his snoring—which was quite loud.”

“Gud. Him needs iz sleep.”

“So do I,” London said, drawing her brows together.

“Him ah normally ah quiet mon wen him sleeps. Him jest vera tired.”

“I know how he feels. So Meredith was his wife?” London asked as her gaze traveled back to the painting. At Natasha’s nod, she asked, “How long were they married?”

“Four years.”

“Who murdered her?”

“Dat’s nah mi place ta seh.”

“You won’t say or you don’t know?”

“Mistress Elizabeth es comin’ by fah supper next week,” Natasha began, changing the subject. “Shi doesn’t like de meals I fix. Can yuh suggest someting shi might like?”

London took the hint. “I’m sure we can come up with something appropriate. Why is she coming for dinner? Is it a special occasion or just a social call?”

“Both of Masta Eli’s parents are comin’ ta discuss de ledgers. Dey du dis bout once ah month er suh.”

“So nothing formal?”

“Nuh. But shi doesn’t like wat I prepare.”

“I imagine she thinks you are preparing another chicken so you can have its appendage.”

Natasha gave a laugh. “Can I tell yuh a secret?”

“I’m not very good at keeping secrets,” London said. No sooner than the words left her, her eyes grew wide. “I remember that!”

“Yuh memory will return wid time.” Natasha picked up the chicken foot around her neck and looked down at it. “I only wear dis to kip har wey.”

“Who away? Lady St. John or Meredith’s ghost?” London questioned with suspicion.

“Mistress Elizabeth. Shi used ta cum by here an try ta boss Mistress Meredith ‘bout. Try ta run de ‘ouse fah har. Suh I came up wid de idea ov being ah crazy ‘oman ta keep har wey, suh Mistress Meredith could run har home as shi saw fit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Even Masta Eli doesn’t know, suh don’t tell him.”

London gave a giggle. “I promise.” She wrinkled her brow. “Well, at least I will try. As I said I cannot keep a secret. Judy said I was a bigger tattler than her little sister.”

“Who’s dat?”

“Judy was my best friend back home.” Her words trailed off as she sank down onto the settee. “She was a petite blond-haired woman.” Her eyes grew wide as she looked at Natasha.

“Now don’t guh tryin’ ta ova tink tings, Miz London. Yuh mind will allow yuh ta rememba only wat it wants yuh ta know at its own pace.” Natasha walked over to the settee and smiled at London. “I am glad yuh burns ah healin’. Dey ah nah as red an de blisters ‘ave gaan down.”

London crinkled her nose. “But I look hideous! I resemble someone with the pox. When will I look like myself again?”

“It’z only been a week, Miz London. Don’t yuh fret yuh head bout dis. Dey will guh wey ‘n you’ll be as priti as a picture once yuh’s peeled.”

“Peeled?” London shrieked.

“Yep. Ya jest wait an see. Yuh’ll be itchy an grouchy an yuh will peel. Jest lacka snake sheddin’ its skin.”

“I’ll shed?!”

“Inna bout dree er four days. Yas sah. Inna bout dree er four days Masta Eli won’t be able ta tear iz eyes wey fram yuh. Him has ah hawd enough time now. But ya jest wait.”

London watched as Natasha left still talking about her shedding like a snake and ‘two or three days,’ curious as to what miraculous transformation would take place.

* * * *

London looked nervously about as the itch intensified. Natasha was correct. It had been four days since their conversation and she was itching. Desperation was setting in. She had the most intense desire to scratch her now peeling back. She smiled apprehensively at Lady St. John. The distinguished older lady smiled sweetly back and walked over to address her son. London gritted her teeth, fighting the desire to scratch and to kill Eli. He had insisted she attend this dinner because of her assistance in finding the discrepancies in the shipping ledgers.

Lady St. John turned her back to London. This gave London the opportunity she needed. She quickly snatched a fork from the dining table and began digging at her back. A look of ecstasy crossed her face from the relief.

Lord St. John was watching the young woman from the corner of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched with humor as he watched her. He remembered when Madison had a sunburn when she was just a small child. Madison was so desperate to scratch that she took the fork from a Marquess’s hand and began digging her flesh. Granted she was only four years old and the fork belonged to Elizabeth’s oldest brother, Marcum, but this still made for quite a scene . . . another bit of gossip for the
ton
to feast upon about the St. Johns.

It was hard for Robert to control his laughter as he watched the young woman. She was digging furiously using the fork with a look of elation on her face. Elizabeth turned to face London. London plastered a nervous smile on her face and pretended to stretch. The fork slipped from her grasp. Her eyes grew wide when she realized that she had just dropped the eating utensil down the back of her blue gown. To Robert she resembled a deer being held captivated by its attacker. Elizabeth turned back to Eli. London began twisting her back as she slowly stood. Her eyes widened even more and she gave a small jump. A grimace of pain crossed her face from the movement. She ignored the pain and began shaking her leg. London looked towards Robert. He quickly turned his gaze back towards his wife and son.

Robert returned to watching the comical woman from the corner of his eyes. London bit her lip as she surveyed the room. She shook her leg rapidly. She attempted to bend over, but the pain in her leg stopped her. Lifting the hem of her skirt up, she peered down. She kicked her foot and the fork slid down and embedded into the toe of her shoe. Furrowing her brow, she mouthed a “damn.” She then kicked harder and the fork went flying through the air. Robert watched the airborne silver utensil sail through the air as if traveling in slow motion. It twirled and twisted down its flight path and then embedded into his wife’s coiffure. London’s eyes grew wide and her hands covered her mouth as she let out a faint gasp. Robert couldn’t help himself; he burst out in laughter.

“What is so funny, dear?” Elizabeth asked as she turned to face her husband, leaving the implanted projectile facing away from Eli.

“Nothing, just thinking about something that Alexandra said. She is quite comical.”

“Yes, she is. She is too much like you, I’m afraid. She is always getting into trouble and speaks her mind too frequently.”

“She’s only two, Elizabeth.”

“Still yet, she needs to be taught proper manners.”

“Speaking of proper manners, I’m starving. Let’s eat,” Robert said with a twinkle to his dark eyes.

Robert seated his wife beside his son at the end of the long table with her new hairpiece facing away from Eli. London looked anxiously about. She walked to the seat beside Elizabeth, turned and peered out the window behind them.

“Please have a seat, London. There are no formalities here tonight,” Elizabeth said as she motioned to the seat to her right.

London smiled nervously at Lady St. John and took the seat. Robert began discussing the finds that “Eli” had discovered on the ledgers.

“I find it hard to believe that Captain Hawsley has been embezzling money from us for almost two years,” Robert said.

Eli looked to his father. “I know. He has been with Emerald Shipping for well over ten years. I considered him a loyal employee.”

London took the family’s distraction into the thefts of funds to her advantage. She cautiously raised her hand towards Lady St. John’s coiffure. She tentatively touched the impaled object. She jerked her hand quickly away when Elizabeth turned to her and said, “It’s just disgraceful for someone to do that to their employer. Don’t you agree, London?”

London smiled nervously again. “Yes, it is.”

Elizabeth turned her head back to the conversation at hand. London raised her hand up. She had the tip of her fingers wrapped around the fork when Eli yelled, “London, what are you doing?”

A look of horror crossed her face when she realized that she had been caught in the act of removing the fork. Elizabeth turned towards London because of Eli’s outburst before London could release the utensil. The prongs of the fork had become ensnared in Elizabeth’s hair. The fork pulled free from its confines, pulling Elizabeth’s hair out from her coiffure and sending her long auburn locks cascading down. Elizabeth’s hands went instinctively to her fallen tresses. A confused look crossed her face as she spied London holding the fork full of her auburn hair.

“I can explain,” London began as she looked around the room.

Robert could not contain his laughter. His deep voice echoed throughout the dining room. Eli and Elizabeth turned towards him and looked at him as though he had gone mad. Their expressions made him laugh even harder.

“What are you finding so humorous, Robert?” Elizabeth huffed.

“You,” Robert said, all the while still laughing.

“Robert!”

Robert sobered but his eyes still smiled. “That was quite a good effort you put up there, my dear girl,” he said as he addressed London. “If Eli hadn’t spotted you, I believe you would have gotten away with it.”

“What are you talking about?” Eli asked.

“Tell them, London,” Robert said as his laughter returned.

All eyes turned to London. Her face was burning from embarrassment. She closed her eyes and groaned.

“London?” Eli questioned.

“I’m a snake!” she wailed as she covered her face.

Eli looked at her with frustration. “A snake?”

“Yes. I’m peeling. Shedding my skin like a snake,” she cried.

“What does that have to do with you removing my hair with a fork?” Elizabeth asked as she rearranged her hair.

“Well . . . you see . . . I had this itch . . . and . . . well, I couldn’t reach it. So I . . . I used a fork to scratch my back.”

“A fork?” Elizabeth questioned with doubt.

Robert roared with laughter. “It was a real treat to watch her.”

“Robert!” Elizabeth scolded.

“You saw me?” London croaked, mortified.

“Yes, my dear. The whole entire show!”

London groaned again as she closed her eyes.

“What show?” Eli asked.

“Well, I dropped the fork down the back of my gown.”

“What?”

London ignored Eli’s outburst and continued with her explanation. “It then slid down my shift and embedded in my shoe.”

“How in the King’s name did it get stuck in your shoe?” Eli asked with agitation.

“Probably because she was jumping up and down like a frog before she kicked her leg,” Robert chimed in.

Eli looked at his father, then back to London. London gave Robert a heated glance. “Why didn’t you say something if you knew that the fork was lodged in your wife’s hair?”

“I wanted to see how you would get yourself out of that situation.”