“But back to my question,” Kade went on. “Where would you like to go?”
Cynthia paused, and Corbin wondered how she would answer. They hadn’t discussed this at all, and Corbin knew his opinion didn’t matter—Kade had been directing all his questions to Cynthia and acting as though Corbin wasn’t even in the room.
“Where do most people go?” she asked at length.
“A large percentage have gone to California,” Kade replied. “However, some have gone to Canada. Only one or two have gone all the way to Europe.”
“Oh, my. I hadn’t dreamed it was so many,” Cynthia replied. “You must have dozens of friends.”
Kade smiled. “I have a fair number. Does California appeal to you?”
“I’ve seen pictures of San Francisco—that seems like a nice place. Do you think I’d be happy there?” Cynthia asked.
“Well, that’s hard to say. What sorts of things do you enjoy?”
“Art, music, gardening, fancy dinners—I must confess, Kade, that I appreciate the finer things in life.”
“Drove our father to distraction,” Corbin muttered, feeling as though he should do something to contribute.
“Yes, but Mother saw no harm in it,” Cynthia shot back.
“Only because she never dared tell you no.” Corbin sat back and folded his arms.
Cynthia turned to Kade. “You’ll have to forgive my brother,” she said smoothly. “We do love each other—of course we do, or he wouldn’t be coming with me or protecting me—but we do squabble sometimes.”
“That’s understandable,” Kade replied. “As far as San Francisco is concerned, yes, you’ll be able to enjoy all those things there. I have an associate who will set you up with lodging, and I believe you’ll be quite happy.”
“Is . . . is that all? It’s that simple?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s that simple. Of course, you’ll need to choose new names . . .”
“Of course,” Cynthia echoed. She glanced at Corbin. “What do you think?”
Corbin sat up a little straighter. It was time to look more involved. “I’ve always liked the name Nathaniel.”
“I like that too. And I’ll be . . . Oh, I don’t know. Kade, why don’t you choose for me?” She gave him another of those shy smiles.
He returned her smile. “The first girl I ever fell in love with was Christine—Christine Simmons.”
“Oh, l like that. Nathaniel and Christine . . . We’d better not use Simmons, I suppose, but what about Stewart?”
“Perfect.” Kade pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his breast pocket and flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Nathaniel and Christine Stewart, destination San Francisco,” he said as he wrote. “Your fee will cover your transportation costs and a deposit on your lodgings, and also a gratuity for my associate in California. Of course, I do charge a small fee as well.”
He named a total that made Corbin blanch, but he wasn’t looking at Corbin, thank goodness. He was focused entirely on Cynthia, who didn’t have a reaction at all.
“Of course,” she replied, reaching into the small bag she had dangling from her wrist. Corbin had always wondered why women carried those things—they didn’t seem large enough to hold anything important—but Cynthia extracted a thick stack of bills and counted them out, returning a few to her bag after handing the rest to Kade.
He’d obviously been watching her count because he didn’t bother to double check. Instead, he folded the stack in half and slid it into his pocket. “Excellent. If it suits you, we’ll send you on the morning train—it departs at eight o’clock on the dot.”
“Tomorrow?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes. Is that too soon?”
“No—I want to leave immediately. I wish it were sooner—how do I know we’ll be safe until tomorrow morning?”
Kade leaned forward and patted her hand. The action seemed too familiar and Corbin wanted to slap it away, but he forced himself to stay still. “This hotel is like a fortress, Marie—I assure you that no one will be able to harm you while you’re here.”
She met his gaze shyly, but then with more boldness. “That means a great deal to me, Kade. Thank you.”
It was all Corbin could do not to throw a punch at the fellow.
Chapter Six
“Marie, I wonder if I could speak with you for a moment.”
Cynthia paused. She and Corbin had been leaving Kade’s room, but she turned back at Kade’s beckoning. “Yes?”
Corbin had paused as well, but at a pointed look from Kade, he stepped out into the hallway. Kade walked over to the door and closed it, then gave Cynthia a warm smile.
“You mentioned that you enjoy nice dinners.”
“Yes, I do. Very much.”
“I enjoy them myself—would you consider being my guest tonight? I’m sure your brother can find some other way to entertain himself for a few hours.”
Cynthia blinked. “You’d like to have dinner . . . with me?”
Kade took her hand. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise that I find you a fascinating woman, Marie. You’re not only charming, but beautiful, and I can’t think of a more pleasant way to spend your last evening here.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Well, pleasant for me.”
Cynthia smiled while she tried to think of a reply. She really should turn him down, but she and Corbin had discussed this already and the fact that she might need to allow some interest on Kade’s part. Just some interest—she wouldn’t be expected to allow things to go beyond a certain point. But interest all the same. “I’d like that,” she said at last. “You’ll have to forgive me for being hesitant—I’m so used to thinking of myself as being married. Even though it wasn’t a happy marriage, I was still loyal to my husband, and now … to be invited to dinner by someone else . . . it feels so strange.”
“I do understand,” Kade told her. “But you will need to throw off those shackles at some point—why not cast them aside here, with me, over a nice meal?”
“I’m willing to try,” she said, and he smiled.
“I’m very glad to hear it. Shall we say, six o’clock? I’ll have something nice brought up for your brother so he doesn’t feel too left out—maybe an extra dessert.”
Cynthia nodded. “Six o’clock. I’ll see you then. Will we be eating in the dining room? I haven’t seen much of the hotel—”
He cut her off. “We’ll be eating here, in my room. I prefer solitude over mingling with the guests.”
“Oh. All right. Six o’clock.” She gave him another smile, then left the room, a bit taken aback by his vehement reaction. Staying on the second floor, having no interaction with the other guests . . . She supposed that made sense from a security standpoint, and yet it was still a prison. Not even allowing Corbin to shop for cigars? Or to post a letter? Perhaps that also made sense, but no dining room either? That felt extreme. Surely Kade’s guards could keep an eye on a dining room without too much trouble, unless . . . unless Kade didn’t want them to see who else was staying at the hotel. Or didn’t want the other guests to see them.
She slipped back into her room, and just seconds later, opened the door again at Corbin’s faint knock.
“I’m to have dinner with him at six tonight,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry to say, you’re not invited.”
“Of course I’m not. That would be inconvenient, to say the least.” Corbin folded his arms across his chest.
Cynthia smirked. “Why, brother dear, are you jealous?”
“No, not at all. But . . . but your husband might be. Just a little.”
That brought her up short. “Really?”
He sighed. “It’s not easy, watching him watch you. His motives are hardly a secret, you know, and knowing what he’s thinking . . . Well, let’s just say that I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“I can’t either, but we’re not done.” She took a step even closer. “You saw that notebook.” Her voice was now barely a breath. “Once we
have that list, we could contact agents in each of those towns and have them make dozens of arrests—just like we talked about. And if I have dinner with him, our chances of stealing the book are suddenly very good instead of nonexistent.”
“Yes, it’s everything we were hoping for. But at the time we first discussed it . . .”
She looked up into his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
He took a deep breath. “When we first discussed it, I wasn’t in love with you yet.”
Could . . . could he really be saying what she thought he’d just said? “You’re in love with me?”
He nodded. “It’s crazy, considering that we’ve just met, but crazier things have happened in this world, haven’t they? And the thought of you being alone with that man, even just for a few minutes, let alone for a whole meal . . .” He swallowed. “I know it’s important for the good of the case, but that doesn’t mean I like the idea.”
She slid her hand into his. “You’re very sweet.”
“Yes, that’s me—very sweet and very agitated. Why don’t I just go in there, punch him senseless, take the book, and then we leave? I think that’s an excellent backup plan.”
“Maybe so, but it’s bound to attract attention, don’t you think? Punching someone senseless usually makes a lot of noise.”
“True, but we can find a workaround.” He studied her eyes. “You’ll be alert every minute—promise me.”
“Yes, absolutely alert. If he serves wine, I won’t touch it . . . I don’t like the stuff anyway.”
“And if he sweet talks you?”
She shook her head. “My goodness, you haven’t learned very much about me yet, have you? I’m not about to let myself be influenced by some flimflammer’s idea of a romantic conversation. I require a lot more than that.”
“Oh? What do you require?”
She grinned. “Well, I usually like to be married to someone first before I make up my mind.”
“You do? That seems rather presumptuous, doesn’t it? And what if you can’t get him to marry you?”
“Then I have to come up with an elaborate ruse, like . . . like needing a partner for an exciting adventure.”
Corbin reached up and stroked the side of her cheek, and she melted into his touch. Every one of her senses was tingling—how had she been so lucky and so blessed to be paired with this man? Cupid himself couldn’t have arranged this match more perfectly.
“I’ll be hovering in the hallway the entire time you’re gone,” he whispered. “You might even need a crowbar to get me away from Brown’s door.”
“I have a better idea,” she replied. “What if you use that time while he’s distracted to poke around a little? See what else is on this floor, see if someone stops you if you try to go downstairs—you’ll need a good excuse for that one, though.”
“I’ll think of something.” He pressed his lips together. “I don’t usually hesitate to send my partners off without me. I’ve never sent my wife off to have dinner with another man, though.”
“We just discussed this—everything’s going to be fine.”
“I know. I’m just very thick in the skull and I need things repeated to me over and over again.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just stubborn.” She stepped away and sat down on one of the chairs near the table. Everything was happening rather quickly now, and she needed a moment to let her thoughts catch up. “You mentioned before that you’d like the chance to teach me some basic defense strategies. We have quite a while until dinner, and since we’re apparently not allowed to go anywhere, we could get started.”
“Excellent idea.” Corbin glanced around. “I’d like to move some of this furniture out of the way, but Esther keeps popping up when we least expect her and she’d be curious, so we’d better leave things as they are.”
“Yes, she is rather inconvenient that way.” Cynthia was still mulling over Corbin’s declaration of love, even though she was talking about other subjects entirely. The look in his eyes when he’d said it . . . He was telling the truth, no doubt about it, and she was thrilled to realize it. But she couldn’t say it in return until she was certain. She loved how he made her feel, how he took care of her, how he listened when she spoke—well, once his head felt better—but there was a difference between loving things about a person and simply loving them.
She’d never been in love before, and she wanted to do it right because the thought of hurting Corbin was too terrible to bear. The fact that she cared so much was a good indicator, but she didn’t want to confuse the deep feelings of friendship she had for him with love.
And perhaps that friendship would grow into love over time . . . After all, most good romances began with friendship . . .
She looked up with a start when she realized Corbin had said something and she’d missed it. “I’m sorry. Could you please say that again?”
He chuckled. “You’re contemplating something rather seriously over there.”
“No, not really. Just . . . thinking about something.”
“Isn’t that what contemplating means?”
Oh, gracious. Somehow she had the sense that he could read her thoughts, and her attempts to hide them weren’t working at all. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry—I think I’m still tired from our trip here.”
“Why don’t I ring for some tea or lemonade? That will refresh you.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
She closed her eyes while he made the request, hoping that a few minutes of stillness would settle the chaos churning in her brain. When Esther came back with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, she was feeling much more herself.
“Esther, do you ever get time off?” she asked. “It seems that every time we’ve needed something, you’ve been here.”
“Would you rather I not be here? I can call someone else,” the girl faltered, but Cynthia jumped back in.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I was just curious about your schedule.”
“I’m here nearly all the time, ma’am. I’m an orphan, and I have a room on the top floor. Several of us girls do. It’s nice to have a place to work that also gives us a place to live.”
“Yes, I imagine that would be very nice. How many girls live here?”
“Oh, about ten. I’ve never stopped to count.”
Cynthia blinked. “Ten girls? The hotel must be larger than I assumed.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. It’s quite large, and we’re full all the time. Sometimes it’s mostly regular guests, but sometimes it’s mostly special guests, like you and Mr. Phillips, but no matter what, we’re always busy.”
Interesting . . . “How many special guests are there right now?”
Cynthia had tried to sound casual, but something about the question struck Esther wrong, and she immediately clammed up. “Can I get you anything else, ma’am? Or is the lemonade enough for now? Lunch is in an hour.”
“This will be just fine. Thank you, Esther.”
Once the girl had left the room. Cynthia turned to Corbin, who had been lounging near the fireplace to stay out of the way of the exchange. “Isn’t that curious? Sometimes the hotel is full of special guests . . . and she won’t say how many are here now.”
“I wonder if they’re all staying here on the second floor,” Corbin replied. “I think you’re right—I think I should do some snooping around while you’re at dinner.”
“But you’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“Yes. We’ll both be careful, and with any luck, by the end of the night, we’ll have a great deal of evidence to arrest a great number of criminals.”
***
Corbin spent the next forty minutes teaching Cynthia how to escape from different holds, trying to keep the sound as muffled as possible. If he stepped down too hard or yanked her around too much, it was likely to alert someone that something unusual was going on, but he managed to show her how to twist her wrist and how to jab an attacker in the ribs without the resulting noise being too loud.
“I just can’t figure it out,” Cynthia said as they paused for a sip of lemonade. “If Kade sent a telegram to Richard Michaels, why does he trust us now? We don’t know Richard, do we?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Corbin replied. “Archie does have a number of tricks up his sleeve, though.”
“Speaking of tricks, will you show me that last one again? I think I’ve almost got it, but I need to leverage my weight better.”
Cynthia was a quick learner, and what she lacked in strength, she made up for with agility. Corbin was able to analyze her weaknesses and teach her some moves that worked with her abilities rather than emphasizing those weaknesses, and he felt sure that she’d be able to get out of almost any situation that didn’t involve a knife or a gun. When weapons entered the picture, well, no one could guarantee anything.
A few minutes before the hour, they each took a moment to freshen up, and when Esther arrived with their lunch, they looked quite ordinary and not at all like they’d just finished a scrimmage.
“Here you are, and when you’re done eating, I have something for you, ma’am.”
Cynthia looked mystified. “What sort of something?”
“The sort of something that I want to tell you, but I can’t because it’s a secret.” Esther ducked out of the room before they had a chance to ask her any more questions. Cynthia felt bad for the way they’d hounded her earlier, but she was their only source of information. If they wanted to learn more, she was their resource.
When the surprise arrived, it most certainly was a surprise and not just in name. It was a simple dinner gown in deep pink with white gauzy material around the neck. Even Corbin, who knew nothing about ladies’ fashion, was suitably impressed.
“Do you like it, ma’am?” Esther was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. “Mr. Brown wanted you to have something fresh and lovely for your date tonight.”
“It’s very lovely,” Cynthia said with a glance at Corbin. “I’m not sure it’s an actual date, though, is it? I thought it was more . . . just having dinner.”
“Isn’t that a date, ma’am?” Esther hung the dress up while Cynthia tried to think of a reply. Not all meals eaten together were dates, were they? She knew she was making this into more than it ought to be, but the expression on Corbin’s face—a combination of thunder and lightning—made her want to clarify.
An Agent for Cynthia Page 6