He nodded but made no comment.
“Additionally, we use shorthand and riddles in our communications since we’re dealing with a very sensitive subject. It’s all very secure,” she assured him.
But Fielding was not so assured.
“What do you suppose this Raven character plans to do with the box?” she asked.
“He’s in the business of hunting antiquities.”
She said nothing for a moment, as if she wasn’t quite certain what to make of what he’d said. “Well, that’s a rather peculiar business,” she said. “Does he keep them all?”
Fielding took a sip of coffee. “There is a fortune to be made in antiquities.” He went and stood next to the hearth. “The Raven sees to it that he makes more than his share. But no, he doesn’t keep them. He usually has a client who commissions him for a particular piece.” He leaned against the mantel. “He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Manipulate, bribe, steal; the only thing that matters to him is winning.”
When Esme gasped, he turned away from her, staring into the flames. Standing this close he could feel the heat penetrate his trousers, nearly burning his legs; still he made no attempt to move away.
He reminded himself that it didn’t matter what she thought. She would never understand him, never understand why he’d made the choices he had and become the man he was.
If he wanted to break that silly spell she was under, believing him to be some honorable hero, he’d have to tell her the truth. He’d have to tell her who he really was, and if she ran, all the better.
“But this isn’t merely an antiquity,” she said indignantly. “This isn’t a trinket to trifle with, something to collect and put on a mantelpiece. This is a powerful box created to punish Pandora,” she argued. “It belongs in the hands of someone who will understand and respect what it is.”
“Pardon me, my lord, a messenger has come for you,” the butler said from the doorway. “He said something about a Raven.”
Fielding had sent Esme to the reading room to wait while he dealt with the messenger. She’d crossed the length of the room so many times, it was a wonder she hadn’t worn the carpet down. In the short amount of time she’d been waiting, she’d imagined all sorts of terrible things. What would prevent the Raven from abducting her again? And this time doing her serious harm?
When Fielding came into the room, parchment dangling from his hand, he had a heavy scowl on his face.
“He’s found us, hasn’t he?” she asked. She knew she probably sounded hysterical, so she forced herself into a chair to at least keep from pacing.
He shook his head. “No. He sent this to my home here in London. Or I should say, he left it there after he practically destroyed the place.” He cursed and swiped a hand down his face. “He didn’t waste any time getting back to your house either. I’ll send someone to assess the damage, and if we’re lucky, you’ll get away with just broken windows.”
“Oh, God,” she said. She sat on her hands to keep from chewing her nails. “But if the note arrived at your house, then one of your servants must have brought it here.”
“My messenger has clear instructions to avoid being followed, Esme. You are safe here.”
She nodded. “What does the note say?” Unable to abide her nerves any longer, she stood and walked the length of the carpet.
“Only that he knows I was there in the ruins.” He pocketed the note. “And that I have you and the box.”
“His men returned to him,” she said.
“Thatcher would no matter what. I don’t know about Waters, though. I suspect he was probably too afraid of facing the Raven and might be hiding somewhere. Once we figure out the puzzle of removing those bracelets, we’ll start with locating Waters.”
Esme winced. “I’m afraid we’ve exhausted my resources. It might be time to call upon one of my friends for assistance.”
“You know how to find them?” Fielding asked. “I thought you said they were strictly correspondents.”
“I had discussed a meeting with one of the men before I was kidnapped, as he wanted to see my pendant. I have his address.”
Fielding inclined his head. “We shall call on him tomorrow.”
“It must get tedious for the Raven to have you always come behind him and steal those antiquities from him. But you do the right thing in handing them off to men like the members of Solomon’s.”
“Is that what you believe I do?” When she nodded, he said, “Esme, sit down.”
She did as he bade, but she did not like the expression on his face. His brow furrowed, showing lines deep in his forehead and making him look far older than she knew him to be. She chewed at her lip.
He exhaled slowly, then shifted positions. “You believe me to be some kind of hero who rushes in and saves antiquities from the evils of the Raven,” he said. “But that is not the truth.”