The healer was generally stoic and formal, yet his brown eyes gleamed as he said, “Hadleigh has mentioned you as well, Lady Olivia. And now I see why you have been a distraction to him during his meditation practice.”
Turning to Ben, she said with girlish glee, “You find me distracting?”
Ben rolled his eyes while Chen, the bastard, stifled a laugh.
The healer gave a brief tour of his clinic, beginning with the meditation room. Livy poked around the Spartan space, lowering herself gracefully onto one of the sitting cushions.
“How does sitting still help anything?” she asked.
Amusement flickered in Chen’s gaze. “Have you tried it, my lady?”
“Not willingly.” A sheepish smile tucked into her cheeks. “I have always preferred action to inaction.”
“Sometimes non-doing is the most powerful action of all,” Chen replied.
At Livy’s perplexed look, Ben felt his lips quirk. He helped her to her feet.
“Don’t mind Chen,” he said. “He is full of mind-boggling notions.”
Chen lifted his shoulders. “What is mind-boggling to some is obvious to others.”
Livy chuckled. “I see what you mean.”
They moved on to the courtyard, which was brightly lit by lanterns and filled with disciples in training. Some were practicing fighting moves on wooden dummies, others lifting buckets of water fastened to a wooden yoke to build their strength. Students in one corner were throwing small daggers at a cross-section of a tree stump to see who could get closest to the white circle painted in the center.
“Did Hadleigh undergo this training, Mr. Chen?” Livy said, wide-eyed.
“His Grace was an apt pupil.” Chen nodded at the men practicing with the daggers. They bowed and moved aside, and Chen picked up one of the small blades, handing it to Livy. “Would you care to try?”
Knowing how sharp the little knife was, Ben frowned. “Are you certain—”
“I would love to!” Livy snatched the weapon from Chen.
“Keep your eyes on the target, my lady,” Chen instructed. “Before you throw, picture the dagger in your mind: see it hitting the white circle.”
Livy’s clear gaze focused on the tree stump. Her delicate gloved fingers held the hilt at a ninety-degree angle next to her ear, and she let the dagger fly with a snap of her wrist. Ben blinked as the blade pierced the center of the board with a decisive thunk.
“Impressive, my lady.” Chen raised his brows. “Have you done this before?”
Livy shot Ben a quick glance, then shrugged modestly. “Beginner’s luck.”
They continued on to Chen’s study. Tea was waiting on the round table, and the three of them took seats. Livy sipped the fragrant amber beverage.
“This is delicious,” she said. “What kind of tea is this, Mr. Chen?”
“Chrysanthemum, my lady. It is noted for its beautifying properties,” the healer replied. “Of course, you have no need for those.”
As Livy blushed, Ben arched his brows at his friend’s heretofore hidden gallantry. He decided to address the business at hand. The sooner he got this unpleasantness over with, the sooner he and Livy could enjoy a private night together.
“There is a reason I brought you here today,” he said to Livy. “Chen and I conferred yesterday about the best way to capture Fong.”
“Do you know of Fong, Master Chen?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Chen shook his head. “The Chinese community here is not large, based in Limehouse and consisting mostly of men involved in the sea trade. Yet I have never heard of this Fong character, and I do not see how he would be able to conduct his operations without drawing attention.”
“Perhaps Fong doesn’t live in London,” Livy mused. “Longmere described Fong as a warlord, chemist, and spy. Perhaps he only passes through now and again…like a ghostly ship in the night.”
“Hmm.” Chen looked unconvinced. “I am inclined to think that Longmere’s description is grossly exaggerated. Nonetheless, I have sent word to my contacts in Limehouse to be on the lookout for Fong. Longmere’s journal does provide us with other useful information. We now know that the drug is known as ‘Devil’s Bliss,’ and it seems Longmere and his friends were distributing it until he realized the drug could be lethal and grew a conscience.”
“The night before his death, he was at Cremorne Gardens with his cronies.” Livy’s thick lashes fanned upward. “I saw a boy slip a note to Thorne, and then the group headed off into the gardens. Do you think Longmere managed to find Fong that night?”
Ben gave her a reprimanding look. “Since I had my hands full with you, I cannot answer that question, can I?”
She blushed, her pearly teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. The naughty, rather unrepentant sparkle in her eyes revealed that she was thinking about their steamy rendezvous at the gardens. His own loins heated at the memory. By Jove, he wanted to make love to her again…and he would, once he settled the present matter.
“My lady has a good hypothesis,” Chen said, stroking his chin. “Perhaps that night Longmere followed the boy to Fong’s lair. Longmere confronted Fong, wanting out of the operation, threatening to expose Fong and the drug’s lethal properties.”
“Opium is not illegal, but murder is,” Livy said. “Fong could be facing imprisonment or worse if he were caught. Not to mention the financial losses he would incur. At the Black Lion, Stamford mentioned that one shipment alone netted a thousand pounds in profit for each of them. Fong, being the mastermind, must receive an even larger share.”
“Excellent reasoning, my lady.” Respect glinted in Chen’s gaze. “Thus, Fong was motivated to permanently silence Longmere. He suffocated the earl, returned the body to the studio, and planted the laudanum to make it look like an accidental death. That also explains why there were no signs of struggle in the studio.”
“So how do we find Fong?” Livy asked. “Do we monitor Longmere’s cronies, waiting for Fong to contact them?”
“That is one approach,” Ben said. “Given the close call with Longmere, however, Fong is likely now on alert. He may lie low for
