Page 42 of The Viscount of Shadows

Chapter 14

“Wake up!” Claudia cried. She shook Oliver once again. At least this time, he groaned. How much time had passed? He trembled all over. The fever was at its zenith. “Here, take more water.”

“Food first,” he croaked as he placed a box of matches in her hand. “Light the lamp to my left.”

Claudia slowly crawled toward the area he indicated, ensuring she didn’t knock it over. Feeling for the shade, she lifted it off, struck the match, and lit the wick. A dim light filled the area. Blinking, her eyes adjusting, she made her way to the trunk. “What food?”

“Oat biscuits. Dried beef. It is in the tins. Some cheese, too.”

Claudia found clothes in the trunk. Garments a laborer would wear. She could use them to travel to the police precinct. The seeds of a plan began to take root. But Oliver must be attended to first. Starving, her stomach growling loudly, she pulled the tins out of the trunk.

“Can you sit up now, do you think?” she asked.

“No. Give me a piece of the dried beef, and I will chew on that. And some cheese.”

After seeing to Oliver, Claudia wasted no time in feeding herself. After sipping some water, she assisted Oliver in taking a drink. “Listen. I have to make a run for it. To get help.”

Oliver started coughing and pushed the bottle away. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“At least let me peek to see if it is day or night.”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Claudia quietly stepped toward the trap door. She hesitated, listening for any voices or movement above. There was none. After climbing the steps, she crouched down and gradually lifted the door. A beam of sunlight poured through a gap in the boarded-up windows and spread across the wood floor. It was hard to know if it was morning or afternoon, as she was not well-versed in the positions of the sun to tell time.

After lowering the door, she returned to Oliver. There was still food clasped in his hand. That is not a good sign. Taking advantage of the slight illumination, Claudia lifted the gauze and peered at his wound. It was angry-looking and slightly red. But there was no blood or pus. There’s a mercy.

“Tell me about Danaher,” he asked, his voice husky.

“I will if you eat some more. Here, have some cheese.” Claudia broke off a piece and held it to his lips.

“You strike a hard bargain.”

“Perhaps, but you must keep up your strength. Eat, Oliver.” He took the proffered cheese, and when he chewed and swallowed, she held the dried beef before him. “Eat a little, and I will continue my tale of woe. But why you wish to hear more of it, I do not understand.”

“As I said earlier, to know you better,” he replied gravely between bites. “To comprehend what makes you tick.”

His emotionally spoken words about wanting to explore every part of her, including her skin, still played over and over in her mind. Could he be fascinated by her alone, or was it because they were in a cramped hiding place, facing danger? Claudia would never forget what he said, for it touched her heart. But dredging up the past was playing havoc with her emotions.

“Make me tick? I am hardly a clock sitting on a mantel,” she sniffed.

“Nor would I wish you to be. Not all men wish to control and bully women. That is not your experience, but decent, honorable men are out there. Like William.”

Right. Not her experience was correct. Except for William, as he said. “And you are one?” Claudia asked softly.

“Yes, I believe I am. I know I am. But we all have flaws. No one is faultless.”

“That is an accurate statement.” Seeing that he had finished the beef, she gave him an oat biscuit. Claudia had come this far and might as well continue. “Danaher is definitely not an honorable man. My mother and I were down to our last few shillings. We heard there were abandoned row houses and lean-tos in Notting Dale that many squatters used. We headed there. Just our blasted luck, we chose one of the shacks Danaher had laid claim to. He and his men bustled in and told us to shove off. But then Jedi had a good look at my mother. Even beaten down by poverty, grief, and the beginnings of her illness, she was still beautiful.”

“Like you,” Oliver whispered.

Claudia blushed, and somewhere deep inside, she was pleased. So much for keeping her emotions guarded. Around Oliver Wollstonecraft, it became more difficult the longer she was with him. Face it, she was hiding nothing now. Her soul was laid bare. Regarding her mother, she had been much more attractive than Claudia could ever hope to be. Still, she appreciated Oliver’s comment and committed it to memory with all the other lovely things he had said.

“We had the same red hair, although hers was a shade darker than mine. My mother made a deal with Danaher. We could stay in the hovel, and he would pay her a flat weekly sum. My mother agreed to be available for his animal lust whenever the mood struck him. I was also part of the deal. I was to be left alone and protected from Danaher and anyone else. To our astonishment, he agreed to the terms.”

“And were you left alone?”

“Yes. Everyone knew we were under Danaher’s protection; they took a wide berth when I went to the market to buy food. Some of the grocers gave us free bread and the like. We existed—barely. It was no life at all. And because we lived in a shack, rain and wind often seeped in. And the cold. We had plenty of firewood, but it never helped with the permanent chill my mother had to endure.”