Heart of Honor (8 page)

He looked over at the smoke drifting out of a broken window. “Fire started at the back of the buildin’. Didn’t get into the main section, though.”

“Thank God. How did it start?”

“Near as we can tell, looks like someone tossed somethin’ through the window in the back door.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean this wasn’t an accident?”

“No, miss. Fact is, if ol’ Mrs. Murphy hadn’t spotted the blaze, your whole buildin’ woulda gone up, maybe the whole durned block.”

Mrs. Murphy lived with her ailing husband above Murphy’s Family Grocery just a few doors down the street. Krista shivered to think of the property, perhaps even lives that might have been lost, if the fire had not been so quickly discovered.

Beside her, Corrie surveyed the blackened brick walls and broken glass strew over the alley. “Well, I guess it is now more than merely a threat.”

Krista sighed. “I was wrong. I should have gone to the authorities as you said.”

“It is not too late for that. And you need to tell your father. There is no way you can keep this a secret.”

She nodded. She would send the professor a note. She didn’t want him to worry, but there was simply no way around it.

“Who do you think it was?” Corrie asked.

“I have no idea. Perhaps the police will have some notion.”

“It is possible, but they are very busy. Perhaps we should hire someone ourselves to look into the matter.”

“That is a very good idea. In the letter I send to Father, I shall ask him if he knows anyone who might be competent to handle the job.”

Krista watched the firemen roll up their hoses and carry them back to the fire wagon. The police would be there soon and there would be questions to answer.

Corrie cast her a look. “Send the letter today, Krista.”

Krista blinked against the stinging smoke. “Yes, I believe I had better.”

Leif strode into the stables at Heartland, a big stone building that smelled of dust and fresh cut hay. Perched on his shoulder, the tiny monkey, Alfinn, screeched merrily, glad to be back in his favorite place. As they walked into the shadowy interior, the monkey leaped away, landing on the top rail of one of the stalls and climbing up into the rafters.

“Behave yourself, Alf,” Leif warned, and the monkey chattered a noisy reply, content with his surroundings and the stable boy, Jamie Suthers, who had mostly taken over his care.

“He’s full o’ mischief this mornin’,” said the lanky, dark-haired boy with obvious affection.

“He’s enjoying himself. He likes you, Jamie.” Leif waved at the youth, happy that Alf had found another friend, and headed back to the house, making his way inside, then down the marble-floored hall and into the high-ceilinged library the professor used for a study.

After months of long days spent in the comfortable wood-paneled, book-lined room, he felt more at ease in here than in any other room of the big, elegant country house.

Leif thought about those first few weeks after his arrival. Heartland was a place fit for a king. Built of beautiful golden stone, standing four stories high and protected by a roof of heavy black slate, the house sat on a knoll surrounded by vast fields of rolling green. The lawns and gardens were perfectly groomed, and a stream, rich with fish, rippled alongside the house.

The interior was more magnificent than anything he, with his limited view of the world, could ever have imagined, with even more lavish furnishings than the professor’s house in the city. The bed Leif slept in was even wider than the one in London, the mattress not just made of feathers, but the soft down feathers of a goose.

The professor had told him there were hundreds of houses far more elegant than Heartland, but to Leif it didn’t matter, for he loved the place from the moment he saw it and he couldn’t imagine why the wealthiest of men would ever want anything more.

He sat down in an ornately carved wooden chair that reminded him of the high-backed chair his father, as chieftain, sat in up on the dais in their longhouse back home. This chair was only one of six that surrounded a beautiful carved wooden table in the middle of the library. A stack of books the professor thought Leif might find interesting sat on the table in front of him. Cracking open the one on top, he settled in to read.

He didn’t have much time, he knew. Soon Professor Hart would arrive with a new list of words and meanings, and they would start his lessons again. The hours were long and tiring, but he was doing very well, the professor said, and Leif believed the outcome would be worth it.

He remembered those first exhausting weeks in the country. The professor had begun his studies with what he called a
battledore,
a heavy paper board that folded into three parts. Once Leif had learned the alphabet and could write it to the professor’s high standards, he began to learn to pen whole words. He was a very quick student and he studied hard, and the professor seemed pleased. Leif learned to read from a
primer,
then read books designed for slightly older children. He was reading everything now, learning more and more words and the correct way to say them.

After four months of intensive study, he felt confident in his progress, knew that he had done far better than the professor had expected.

The man appeared just then in the door of the library, tall and a little frail, his brown hair thinning and beginning to turn gray. Leif frowned as he noticed the man’s face looked strained, and the paper he carried shook a little in his hand.

Leif rose to his feet. “What is it, Professor?” They spoke only English now, had for more than a month. Leif found the words flowing more and more easily off his tongue.

“Something has happened. There’s been trouble at the gazette. I must return to the city.”

“What sort of trouble?” He knew about newspapers now, and magazines, knew that the professor and his daughter owned what was called a
gazette,
a weekly paper, theirs printed for women. He was eager to see the machine that accomplished such a task.

“Apparently, she has received more threatening messages. She got a few before we left, but they seemed more a prank—a joke,” Pax-ton explained. “I never really took them seriously.”

“The ladies didn’t like what she was printing in her maga-zine?”

The professor shook his head. “It wasn’t the ladies. She has been writing articles that call for social reform…better water systems in the city, shorter working hours for children and women, that sort of thing. Apparently, she has made some enemies, men who don’t want things to change. Yesterday someone set the office on fire.”

Leif felt a shot of alarm. “She was not injured, your daughter?”

“No, Krista is fine, but she is worried. The police have no clue as to who might be responsible, and she is afraid someone is going to get hurt. I am afraid that someone might be her. I must return at once.”

“I am going with you,” Leif said.

The professor cast him a glance. “I had hoped we would have a bit more time. At least a few more weeks. We have yet to get into the social graces, the things you need to know to move about in polite society. I thought those things would best be learned after you had mastered our language. Of course, you have done a fine job of that.” He smiled. “And if you are in town, perhaps my daughter will be willing to teach you. She is far better at that sort of thing than I am.”

“Mayhap—perhaps, then, this is for the best. We will go back and make certain that your Krista is safe, and in return, she will teach me more of what I need to learn.”

The professor hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “Yes…now that I consider it, it is good you are going. My daughter values her independence. She won’t want anyone watching over her, but after the fire, I believe it is necessary. With the two of us to look after her, perhaps we can keep her safe.”

“Your daughter will be safe, Professor. This, I vow to you.”

“A
re you certain you should go, Krista?” Aunt Abby followed Krista nervously toward the front door. This was the third morning since the fire, and each day the lecture was the same. “As I said before, I think you should stay at home, at least for a while. Give the police a little time to look into the matter of the fire and who might have started it.”

Krista leaned down and kissed her aunt’s powdered cheek. “The gazette goes out in the morning. It takes the entire staff to get it ready for distribution, and with the dispatch room burned to a crisp, we’ll have to set up tables on the second floor to use for the assembly. That means we’ll have to carry the sections up and the finished bundles down, which will make the task even harder.”

She grabbed her straw bonnet off the top of the coat tree, but ignored her cloak. It was mid-August, the weather warm, the air often hot and still.

Her aunt wrung her pale, slender hands. “I wish your father were here. I’m sure he would forbid you to leave the house until all of this has been settled.”

Krista didn’t think he would go quite that far, but with the problems at
Heart to Heart,
she was glad he remained in the country. Her father would only worry, and she didn’t want that.

“I promised you I would be careful, and I have been.”

Since she had not yet received his reply to her letter, and speaking to the police had done no good, she had hired an investigator that Coralee’s father, Viscount Selkirk, had suggested. His name was Randolph Petersen—Dolph, his business card said—and as soon as he had agreed to take the assignment, he had insisted she employ a night watchman to guard the offices of
Heart to Heart
when no one was there. Mr. Petersen was on the job and she believed in time he would discover the identity of her nemesis and the police would arrest him.

Until then, Krista had a magazine to run.

She headed out the door and hurried down the front steps to her waiting carriage, only to see a second carriage parked behind it. The door swung open and Matthew Carlton descended the iron stairs, a scowl on his face.

“I heard what happened at the gazette,” he announced. “Everyone in town is talking about it. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you believe I wouldn’t hear about it sooner or later? People have been whispering, wondering why I was the last to know. Didn’t you think I should be told? Did you imagine I wouldn’t be concerned?”

Krista toyed with a fold of her apricot dimity skirt. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, I
am
worried, and I don’t think you ought to be anywhere near
Heart to Heart
until the police have arrested the man who set fire to your building.”

Krista sighed. This was exactly the reason she hadn’t told Matthew in the first place. She knew he wouldn’t want her to continue working there, and since they were newly engaged—and unofficially, at that—she didn’t want to displease him.

“We need to get the paper out, Matthew. It takes a very large effort. As I am the publisher, I have to be there to help.”

He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at her. “Once we are married, you will have other things to keep you occupied besides your silly paper.”

Her spine stiffened. “There is nothing silly about
Heart to Heart.
I thought you understood. I told you the magazine was important to me, and you said you thought we were doing valuable work. You said you admired my independent spirit.”

His angry look softened. “I’m sorry, darling. Of course I understand. It’s only that I am worried. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

He seemed sincere. She should be grateful for his concern. “I’ve hired an investigator, Matthew. And a guard to watch the building at night. No more notes have arrived since the fire. There is nothing to worry about.”

He sighed. “I hope you are right.” Taking her hand, he helped her climb into the carriage. “I spoke to my father last night. He thinks we should set a date for the wedding.”

Krista shook her head. “Not until the professor returns. That is what we agreed. I imagine he’ll be back in a couple of weeks, a month at most.”

Matthew didn’t argue, but he didn’t look pleased. Even unsmiling he was handsome, with the sunlight glinting off his light brown hair and his features so refined. He could have had his pick of London’s most fashionable young ladies and yet he had chosen her.

She again tried not to wonder if the size of her dowry had motivated his interest.

Matthew closed the door as Krista settled herself in the seat. She leaned toward him out the window. “I presume we are still going to dinner at Lord Wimby’s Saturday night.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll pick you and your aunt up at eight.”

“All right, I’ll see you then.” Krista waved farewell as the carriage rolled away, then slumped back against the seat. What was it about Matthew that always kept her on edge? She wasn’t sure why, but she could never seem to relax in his company. Surely, in time, that would change.

The morning passed without incident. At the end of the day, she was still thinking about Matthew and her unsettled feelings where he was concerned when she left the office and the carriage rolled toward home. Dusk had begun to fall, outlining the city skyline in a soft purple glow.

They had assembled the gazette for distribution on the morrow, and the day had been a long one. She was tired to the bone and worried about the magazine and whether there might be more trouble. With her mind miles away, she climbed the front porch steps.

Giles pulled open the heavy front door, as usual, and bowed to her. Krista froze at the sight of the big blond giant who thundered down the curving staircase.

“You are home.” Leif Draugr looked down at her from the third step, his words spoken in nearly perfect English. “Your father and I were just coming to get you.”

Krista said nothing. She had forgotten the devastating effect the man had on her, how impossibly handsome he was, how tall, how utterly brawny and male.

“We just got to town,” he added, his slight Norse accent softening the words in a way that made them sound somehow seductive. “After your message arrived, your father was very worried.”

Telling herself not to stare, ignoring the sliver of heat that slipped into her stomach, she nervously moistened her lips. Leif’s gaze strayed to her mouth and his incredible eyes turned the scorching shade of blue she remembered.

“I have thought of you often, Krista Hart.”

She swallowed, finally found her voice. “You have…You have learned a great deal in the months you’ve been gone.”

He smiled. “I have worked hard, but I have much more to learn. Your father says that you might teach me.”

The words sobered her. “Teach you? What could I possibly—”

“There you are!” The professor appeared before she had time to finish. “Dearling…it has been so very long.”

She ran toward him, felt his thin arms closing around her. “I’ve missed you, Father. It wasn’t the same here without you.”

“I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.” He hugged her tighter and she hugged him back.

With a swish of rose silk skirts, Aunt Abby joined the small group in the entry. “I thought I heard voices.” She smiled at Krista. “I am glad you are safely home, my dear. I had begun to worry. Then your father and Mr. Draugr arrived. They were just on their way to Piccadilly to fetch you.”

“So you’ve met Mr. Draugr?”

She had never seen her aunt smile quite so brightly. “Why, yes. You told me a little about him, but you forgot to mention how handsome he is.”

Krista had tried to forget that herself.

She looked at Leif, saw that he was grinning at the praise. It was clear his ego had grown along with his education.

“Your aunt is a very beautiful woman,” he said. “It is easy to see the re-sem…re-sem—”

“Resemblance,” the professor interjected.

“It is easy to see the resemblance between the two of you.”

Krista couldn’t hold back her smile. So the man could be charming. She never would have guessed.

“I didn’t expect you home for several more weeks,” she said to her father.

“Yes, well, after your note arrived, both of us were worried.”

Leif was worried about her? Surely her father was merely being polite. “Well, you are home at last and I cannot say I am sorry.”

Leif’s eyes darkened. “So you thought of me, too.”

Color rose in her cheeks. She hadn’t thought of him at all. Or at least she had tried very hard not to. “I was speaking to my father.”

But it was obvious Leif didn’t believe her. The man hadn’t changed. He was still completely outrageous.

“You’ve had a long day,” her father said. “I imagine you must be tired. Why don’t you go upstairs and refresh yourself? At supper, we can catch up on all that has happened in the months we’ve been gone.”

She
was
tired. And she needed a moment to compose herself. “Yes, I think that is a very good notion. As you say, the day has been a long one.” Grateful for the respite, she turned toward the stairs. “If you will all please excuse me…”

As she passed the entry hall table, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the gilded mirror, her blond curls drooping, an ink smudge darkening her cheek. She looked a fright, yet Leif didn’t seem to notice. She couldn’t help thinking of Matthew. He said he understood how important the gazette was to her, but she knew if he had seen her as she was tonight, he would have disapproved.

Leaving the men behind, she lifted her skirts and started up the staircase. Krista could feel Leif’s eyes on her all the way to the top.

She couldn’t help wondering if her father had told him she was now engaged to be married, and if he understood that meant she was now out of his reach. As she headed down the hall, she glanced over the railing to where he stood. The hot look he gave her made his thoughts more than clear.

He wanted her. That much had not changed.

She ignored the breathless feeling in her chest. Surely, once he understood…

Then again, for all his newfound education, the man was still a barbarian. Perhaps, even if he knew, it wouldn’t end his desire for her.

The thought made her stomach contract.