Page 33 of A Translation of Desire (The Brazen Curators #2)

R ose stood with Bradford on a dark road, somewhere by the Thames River, as he paced back and forth. Anxiousness flowed from him as he mumbled to himself. A driver who appeared calmer but more menacing leaned against the side of the carriage. It was evident they were all waiting for someone.

She glanced around, hoping to glean where she was, but nothing seemed familiar—not that anything in London would. Still, Rose guessed she was in an industrial area. Very few carriages were on the road, and those that were traveled at a speed that indicated they planned to stop for no one.

Bradford glanced at her and frowned but continued with his pacing. The man had barely made it in the door of Seely House before he’d pulled a pistol from his pocket. He’d one by one knocked the guards out with the butt of his weapon. Rose was grateful the illicit antiquities dealer didn’t do worse.

She suspected Bradford was a go-between and didn’t believe he knew anything about the tablets. Whoever they were waiting for appeared to be in charge. She took a deep breath, drawing his attention and halting his pacing.

“Bradford, you seemed like a nice enough gentleman at the market. Why are you doing this?”

Her question seemed to agitate him. He glanced down the street and at the driver nervously.

“A man asked me about your club and your blasted tablets. At first, I brushed him off. You seem like a nice enough lady, but I made one too many bets. The man said he would pay off all my debt if I could bring you to him.”

The driver spat on the ground and glared at them both. “Enough. When he arrives, he can explain as much as he likes.”

“And who is this he you speak of?” Rose asked.

The man only shot her a withering glare.

Fear coursed through her. Something was amiss, and Rose suspected it was part of a more significant issue than the theft of tablets for a collector.

Even though the artifacts were invaluable, she struggled to believe that anyone would go to such extreme measures to have them, and what need would they have for her?

“Bradford—”

Her words died on her lips when a man sitting atop a horse became visible on the road, galloping towards them.

There was a familiarness to him. Rose realized he was the man who chased her at Seely House, and even though he had a scarf covering his face previously, she knew it was him.

Rose eyed the man dubiously. Who was he?

Relief washed over Bradford’s face, but Rose was doubtful this man’s arrival was good for either of them.

The man slowed his horse to a halt before hopping down.

He nodded to Bradford but walked directly to Rose.

He was of average height and had brown hair.

His tailored suit at first made him seem as if he could be a businessman, but his brawny build made Rose suspect he didn’t just push around paper. She swallowed.

He withdrew a rolled-up paper from his pocket and handed it to her. Rose unrolled it, and her eyes flew to his face. It contained cuneiform text.

With a French accent, he asked, “Can you translate it?”

Rose studied it. The paper wasn’t old. Someone used the ancient text that only she and Lord Hawley knew how to decipher to write a message. Why?

“It isn’t that simple. I need somewhere I can compare the text with my research. I have a key that will help.”

The man took his paper back and turned to Bradford. “Did you bring her research with you?”

Bradford nodded. “It is in the carriage.”

The man glanced at the driver, who nodded in agreement. Who were these people?

“We will take Miss Calvert to a place where she can work and return her to you when we’ve acquired what we need,” the man explained to Bradford.

The seller of illicit goods frowned, displeased. “You said you only wanted to speak with her. I won’t allow you to take her away.”

The man sighed, pulled out a pistol, and fired it at Bradford without any hesitation. Rose screamed, shocked by his actions. No artifact was worth all of this. Something else was going on, and she was certain it had to do with Hawley’s associates. Bradford moaned on the ground.

The man pointed to her. “Let’s go. Get in the carriage.”

Rose asked, “Where are we going?”

“A quiet place where you can decipher my document.”

“Who are you?”

The man smiled. It wasn’t pleasant but more sinister—it shot a cold chill down her spine. “Call me Remy.”

Rose nodded and headed towards the carriage but stopped in front of Bradford. He appeared to be gone, but she wasn’t sure. Remy aimed his pistol at him again, but Rose grabbed his hand. “Please stop. He is clearly dead.”

Remy shook her off, scowling. Playing the distressed damsel, she said, “I won’t be able to concentrate if you make me witness you shoot him again. My frazzled nerves will prevent me from deciphering your text.”

The man studied her, and Rose made herself look vulnerable. Not that it was an exaggeration. She truly was. The man had shot someone right in front of her. Her odds of surviving any of this were slim.

He kicked Bradford, and he didn’t budge. Grunting, Remy said, “Let’s go.”

Rose climbed into the carriage, wondering if Bradford somehow survived. Did it really matter? If he was alive, he would probably flee London.

How did she get out of this? Remy settled across from her.

It was dark, so she couldn’t see him all that well, but she didn’t doubt he was a real danger to her.

Bradford’s death was all the evidence she needed to confirm that.

Doubt filled her that this man would let her go of his own free will.

Perhaps she could escape the carriage. The curtains on the windows were closed but maybe she could throw herself out of the vehicle.

The man seemed distracted. He sat with his eyes closed, leaning against the back of the bench.

Rose made her move, but Remy was too fast. Before she even touched the handle, he hauled her back against the bench, holding her by her throat. Fear did thrum through Rose then. He scowled down at her. “Madame, that was a very poor choice.”

She nodded. He squeezed her neck, cutting off her ability to breathe. “Will you do that again?”

Rose shook her head. He released her and sat back on his bench. “All I need for you to do is decipher my message, and then I will be on my way. It will be like I was never in London.”

His words did nothing to reassure her. Not once did he mention where she would end up at the end of this. She needed a plan to escape from wherever the carriage was taking them. Her life likely depended on it.

*

Augustus, exhausted, sat in one of the private sitting rooms of the Den.

He was joined by Devons, Derry, Lisbeth, Diana, and Addie.

The other ladies of the Historical Society for Female Curators would have also been there if it hadn’t been considered scandalous.

Instead, they were at their family townhouses.

While Augustus, Devons, and guards had searched for Rose, Derry ensured everyone had plenty of security.

At this point, they all believed Rose had been taken because of her ability to translate the ancient text, but none of them were sure why a collector would want that.

Augustus doubted that was who they were truly searching for.

He’d sent word to the London Society of Antiquaries and Hawley’s residence so the scholar could meet them at the Den immediately.

He’d not shared Hawley’s association but was very close to doing so.

Fury filled him that the man’s games had likely placed Rose in the situation she was in.

They’d searched Seely House and any place that held illicit markets.

Augustus even visited Abbas, who hadn’t seen anyone.

His anger was only outweighed by his fear that they would never find her.

Addie and Lisbeth paced back and forth while Diana, Devons’s betrothed, twisted at the folds of her skirt. Devons and Derry sat silently.

Augustus knew that everyone was thinking the same thing. Rose was in real danger. His heart flared in pain at the thought that they may never find her. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to go there. She had to be fine. He would destroy whoever took her. Fuck Hawley and his damn schemes.

“There is something I need to tell—”

His words were halted by Hawley striding into the room, his eyes searched the space until they landed on his wife. Relief flickered over his face before Hawley shuttered the emotion. “Have you found her?”

“No. What do you know?” Addie asked, her eyes narrowing on her husband.

Augustus glared at him. “Tell them, or I will.”

Annoyance flashed in the scholar’s eyes. Augustus rose, ready to strike a blow. Everyone gaped. Hawley held up a hand. “I will.”

Addie frowned. “What is it?”

“The British Secret Service informed me that there is a rumor that someone is using cuneiform text to send messages. At first, they didn’t believe the theft of Rose’s tablets or her kidnapping were associated with the speculation. Now they aren’t sure.”

Everyone stared at him, stunned.

“You didn’t think to share this,” Addie snapped at him before she turned to Augustus. “We asked for your help. How could you keep this from us?”

“I made him swear not to share the details with anyone. It is a matter of national security.”

“Did Rose know?” Lisbeth asked. “If so, why would she meet with someone alone?”

Augustus nodded. “We believed at the time that the break-ins were coordinated by a collector. We made the decision not to share what Hawley mentioned because of its sensitivity.”

Diana shook her head. “I still can’t believe she met with someone alone.”

“Rose is fearless, but sometimes it can border on foolish,” Lisbeth added.

“Again, she and I were both under the belief that this had nothing to do with whatever Hawley is embroiled in. He assured us it wasn’t,” Augustus reiterated.

Hawley’s eyes flashed. “That was what the British Secret Service knew at the time.”

Augustus’s anger raged within him. All of this had been caused by a bunch of men, none of whom they had ever met.

“What else aren’t you telling us?” he asked Hawley.

“I’ve told you everything I know.”

Augustus didn’t believe him, and he suspected that neither did anyone else in the room. The man was up to something. “I want to speak with the men you are working with.”

Hawley started to shake his head, so he added, “I’m not asking.”

Any further discussion was halted by the arrival of Augustus’s assistant Henry and Bradford, the man from the illicit market!

He rose to his feet, ready to pummel the man, but then spotted the bloody cloth wrapped around his shoulder.

Henry said, “Your Grace, he arrived at the warehouse, and I immediately brought him here. He was with Miss Calvert.”

Augustus strode to the man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Where is she?”

Bradford yelped in pain, and everyone surrounded him. He shook his head. “The Frenchman said he only wanted to speak with her, and if I arranged it, he would pay off all my debt.”

Fury washed over him as Devons pulled him away. Augustus knew he needed to calm down. He asked, “Where is she now?”

Bradford frowned. “He wanted her to translate something. He is taking her somewhere quiet so she can work.”

Augustus nodded. “You better hope nothing happens to her.”

The man frowned and said, “He isn’t a good man. He wanted to finish me off, but Miss Calvert said I was already gone. She saved my life.”

Augustus turned away from him and said to Hawley, “Take me to the men you are working with. Enough of the games. This has to be connected to what they are involved in.”

Hawley studied him, quietly, and finally said, “Very well. I’m to meet with them after I leave here. They will only speak with you and me.”

“We are going with Sinclair,” Devons and Derry said in unison.

Lisbeth, Addie, and Diana said, “So are we.”

“If we all are waiting for them, they won’t show,” Hawley explained.

Something in the scholar’s tone suggested he wasn’t exaggerating or being dramatic. “Fine, you and I will go together.”

Hawley nodded, looking relieved. Augustus addressed everyone. “The sun is coming up soon. Hawley and I will see this part through. You all need to rest in case this is a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Derry asked.

Augustus nodded. Finding Rose was what mattered, nothing more.