An Agent for Victoria

by Kate Marie Clark

  “You should be afraid of him,” Mav said in a serious tone.

  Her eyes snapped open, and she surveyed his face in the moonlight.

  His brows were down cast and his lips pinched. His expression commanded attention. He placed a hand at her side, still as close as before. “I’ve seen it too many times. A man like Alastair might seem harmless, but there is darkness in him.”

  His hand on her waist brought an encompassing wave of heat. Her palms grew clammy against her gloves. “You mustn’t worry about me.”

  Mav exhaled. His breath smelled of mint and cigar, an unexpected but alluring scent. His voice cracked. “But I do, as much as I tell myself not to.”

  His glance—so full of concern and pleading, protectiveness and warning—was enough to undo her. She fumbled to her pocket and handed him its contents. She hadn’t wanted to give it to him. In fact, she’d promised herself she’d return it to Lotta in the morning.

  He held the ring up to the moon, and the diamond sparkled, reflecting a pink sheen on the building beside them. “Victoria, is this what I think it is?”

  She nodded. “If you promise to return it to Lotta when the case is over.”

  “You snake,” he said, chuckling. “And you were guilting me about stealing.”

  “I had to make sure of your intentions,” Victoria said, touching the bruise beneath his eye. “I never would have kept it from you if I’d have known it would cause you so much trouble.”

  He gasped once more, then—in a moment of celebration—wrapped his arms around Victoria, scooping her up and twirling her in the air. His laughter rolled across her ears and into her heart. He dropped her to her feet and choked back a last chuckle to clear his throat. “Agent Jones, you never cease to surprise me.”

  “As promised.” Mav dropped the ring into Sophie’s outstretched hand.

  Her brows lifted, and skepticism laced her already icy tone. “I’ll have my jeweler examine it. Beck.”

  A slender man, no taller than Sophie, stepped forward. He wore a strange set of spectacles that looked more like binoculars than anything. Mr. Beck lifted the diamond to the light, wiggling it back and forth under his examination. “A genuine pink diamond,” he said with a gummy grin. “I’ve wished to see one ever since I heard the first existed.”

  Sophie stood. “You say it’s genuine?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Beck said.

  “As I said. I put the ring somewhere safe, until I was sure Lotta didn’t suspect anything.” Mav buried his hands in his trousers and shifted his weight. Her shock was understandable given the circumstances. Now he need only wait.

  She turned on her heels. “Well done, Larsen. You’ve proven your loyalty. You’re dismissed to attend to your duties at the emporium.”

  He laughed and planted his feet. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m all for loyalty, but with a task such as that—and a value such as that—a reward is expected. I could have taken the diamond and fled.” Mav folded his arms, accentuating his muscles.

  Her lips twisted into a pucker. “I did wonder if you might take the ring and run. You wouldn’t have been the first to attempt such a feat.” She signaled to Alastair, who sat at her left. “Give Larsen a generous bonus on his week’s pay.”

  “I’ll be wanting something else,” Mav said, strutting forward. He pointed at the ring. “You’re only after the diamond, far as I can tell. Why not give me the setting? I’ve a lady friend who’d love such a ring.”

  Sophie smiled. “Fine. Now leave.” She flapped her hands at him. “Oh, and Larsen, be prepared for your first shipment. Two nights from now. I’ll send further instructions.”

  Mav bowed and left the room.

  The landing above the staircase was large, offering a clear view into the emporium below. The shop didn’t open for another hour, and Mav had an impulse to follow the staircase upward instead. Since their meeting at the harbor last night, he’d hardly been able to quit thinking of Victoria.

  He glanced back at the office door and darted up two flights of stairs. He tapped at the apartment door and rattled the handle when Victoria didn’t answer. The handle wiggled loose, and he pushed past the door.

  She was three steps away, in a morning robe with her hair cascading down her back, when their eyes met.

  “Mav,” she said with wide eyes. “What are you doing here? If you’re found out—”

  He placed his hand over her mouth and smiled, and then whispered. “Shhh. If I’m found out, it’ll be no fault of my own, Agent Jones.”

  Her cheeks brightened to the color of a rose, and she pushed past him to close the door.

  “I didn’t exactly have a way of sending word that we needed to visit.” Mav walked into the kitchen where two cups of tea steamed on the counter. “Are you expecting company?”

  “Just Sophie, in five minutes.” Victoria’s eyes flickered to the clock on the table. “She’s never late.”

  Mav leaned over the open window. The fire escape would do well enough. He turned back to her. “Thank you for the diamond. I’d be in a heap of trouble if you hadn’t of given it to me. We would have lost the case, and—”

  “You’ve never lost one,” Victoria interrupted. She moved around him to close the window. “Archie used to tell me how important the cases were to you, but I had no idea the length you would go to make sure they were solved.”

  Without thinking, he caught her by the hand. He drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Victoria. You’ve quite the hands, always sneaking off with things.”

  She froze, and her hand went limp in his.

  He’d felt drawn to her instantly, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her two years ago when she’d visited on her break from school. She’d walked into her brother’s office, and Mav had felt his gut drop to his knees. He’d never felt more of a coward…But even then, Archie had made it clear to all the agents that his sister was off-limits. To Mav’s discredit, Archie’s warning only awakened more of Mav’s notice.

  He dropped her hand and took a swig of the tea on the counter. “Sophie’s asked me to assist with a shipment in two nights from now. I think this will be the one. I’ve considered getting a handle on the police station—who’s in and who’s out of Sophie’s inner circle.”

  Victoria peeled the teacup from his hand and returned it to the saucer. “That’s wonderful news.”

  He paused, watching the creases near her lips lengthen. “You don’t look like you believe that.”

  She shrugged. “I’m more persuaded of Sophie’s power with each day. She’s dangerous, Mav.”

  He touched her cheek—again without thinking. “And so am I.”

  Her dark eyes snapped shut like she was in pain. “I’m well aware of that.”

  Mav rubbed his thumb down her jawline. She was even more beautiful without all the fancy handiwork. His eyes fell to her lips, and he longed to kiss her again, as he had on their wedding day.

  “Mav,” she said, startling.

  “Hmm?” he asked, still mesmerized by the movement of her mouth.

  “Tea.” She opened the window in a flash, and nearly pushed all six feet of him out the fire escape. “Sophie will be here any moment.”

  He gasped amidst his laughter. “So you’re throwing me out?”

  She shoved his last leg out the window. “You understand. This is strictly business.”

  Mav caught his breath. Victoria was a Scottish spitfire, a piece of heaven and hell, of indescribable beauty and quiet strength. He leaned against the metal grate and laughed. Was he falling in love with his wife?

  8

  Victoria shut the window and sighed in relief. He was gone; Mav was gone. She refused to glance below the glass. He’d come too close to seeing her heart, how helpless she was in his presence. The realization brought a strand of anger to her cheeks, and she huffed. Her longing for Mav was a poor kept secret—from Marianne, Archie, and even herself. In fact, her feelin
gs were no secret, and if she wasn’t careful, Mav would see them too.

  The front doorknob turned, and Sophie walked through the door. “Morning, Miss MacGregor,” she said, dropping her gloves on the table.

  “Mrs. Kemp.” Victoria set a teacup in front of her. “Just as you like, with a slice of lemon.”

  Sophie sniffed the cup. Her eyes narrowed. “Have you started yours without me?”

  Victoria’s lips parted, and she looked to the half-drunken teacup. Mav’s sip had nearly emptied the cup. She stumbled over an explanation. “No, no—well, I convinced myself I ought to try the tea before you came and make sure it tasted well enough. I suppose it tasted very well, and I got carried away.”

  Sophie sniggered. “So I see.” She pressed the cup to her lips once more. “And have you plans for today?”

  “Yes. Alastair has offered to take me to the museum.”

  Sophie nodded slowly, seeming to digest the tea—or Victoria’s response. “Ah, my brother does like outdated things. He’s always rambling about tradition and history and everything proper. He is a straight arrow.”

  Victoria smiled. “A good kind of brother to have.”

  Sophie exhaled. “Depends upon your situation. Having a brother lean over your shoulder isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Mm.” Victoria took the crackers from the counter and placed them on the table. She couldn’t pretend to understand; Archie seemed oblivious to her existence or, at least, ambivalent. The only time he’d showed a semblance of brotherly protectiveness was when he’d realized she’d joined the agency and married Mav. “Have you always been close to Alastair?”

  “Always?” Sophie shook her head. “We’ve had our fallings out, but then, we always seem to find our way back to one another. He can’t help himself; he must watch over me. And me? I rather like his company, despite his silly sense of morals.”

  Victoria set her empty cup on the table. “I’m meeting your brother in thirty minutes, but I’m still in my robe. Enjoy your day,” she said, moving to her room.

  “Do take care, Victoria,” Sophie called from the kitchen. “My brother hates to be left waiting.”

  Victoria changed quickly and fashioned the top section of her hair into a braided crown. Her heart still raced from the surprise meeting with Mav and Sophie’s subsequent arrival. The effect made her question her potential as an agent. Mav seemed unphased by anything and everything. He’d had the courage to steal a diamond…if Victoria hadn’t gotten to it first.

  Alastair met Victoria in the entry of the emporium. As per usual, he was dressed in a newly pressed suit and top hat, and he had a carriage just around the corner.

  “Miss MacGregor, are you ready for your day at the museum?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Certainly.”

  Alastair laughed, and he tapped his boot against the floor. “Allow me to signal the carriage.”

  She tried to protest, but Alastair was gone too quickly, claiming she needn’t walk even around the corner by the dirty street.

  Mav said nothing as she stood near his post at the door, though his scowl and clenched jaw spoke volumes; he disapproved of her leaving with Alastair. He’d continued to hint that Alastair Kinley might be dangerous, but Victoria disagreed. Alastair was kind and helpful.

  Victoria crossed her arms. “The wind is blowing in,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Your hem,” Mav said, pointing to the back of her dress.

  She turned and twisted in an attempt to see what the matter was.

  “Allow me,” Mav said—in the same tone Alastair had used about the carriage—and bent down. A slip of paper slipped from his sleeve, and he picked it up and handed it to her. “You seemed to have dropped this.” His fingers lingered near her hand. “Take care, Victoria.”

  She pushed the note into her own sleeve. “Thank you.”

  The exchange was perfectly harmless to any bystander, but Victoria knew better. She took a few steps away from Mav and opened the small note.

  Meet me in the alley after your return. -M

  Her pulse rang in her ears, and fire lit her chest. She looked to his face once more and caught him slouching. His brown eyes flooded her, and the smallest smile touched his lips. She jerked forward to keep from staring.

  Mav Jones was more dangerous than she’d ever imagined; he possessed the ability to smash her heart to bits. He’d told her, repeatedly, that their marriage was strictly a business arrangement. Strictly business. She folded her arms. If Victoria was to be an effective agent, she needed to withstand Mav’s presence.

  “Miss MacGregor,” Alastair said, opening the carriage door. “Shall we?”

  “Please.” She’d never wished to leave more desperately.

  Mav carried the last oversized box into the backroom just off the alley. The late-night shipment had arrived beneath a wagonful of produce, and each box was sticky with residue. Mav’s hands, at first sticky, had now blackened from the dirt clinging to the fruit juice.

  Alastair and Sophie had already spread out the haul—all consisting of European dresses and accessories—across the ten-foot long table. Sophie’s nose pinched across her nostrils, and her chin was lifted to the ceiling.

  “At least thirty dollars,” Sophie said, lifting the sleeve of a gown.

  Alastair’s face was as red as his lips. “Thirty? Have you lost your mind? No one in their right mind would purchase this dress for such a cost.”

  She laughed. “They will if they want the latest fashion of Europe.”

  Alastair pursed his lips, and his face seemed to darken another shade, but he didn’t say anything else. He seemed to have learned what Mav already had; Sophie was more stubborn than a mule.

  “That’s the lot of it,” Mav said, setting the last box on the table. At least dresses were lighter than the books he’d unloaded earlier in the day.

  Sophie dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “If you’ll just stack the empty boxes in the corner of the room, you are free to go.”

  Even under his cover, he struggled obeying orders. Mav had believed Sophie would offer special treatment after his procuring of the pink diamond, but no such luck. On the contrary, she seemed convinced he could shoulder more work, and she didn’t ease off of him. Mav cleared a corner of the room and began stacking the boxes.

  Alastair scribbled in his ledger. “Thirty it is.”

  She smiled. “You always do eventually come to see reason and to agree with my suggestions. Thank goodness.”

  Alastair said nothing in response, but Mav was quite clear Alastair didn’t agree with very much his sister said.

  “While we’re speaking on it, let me give you another piece of advice. Drop your association with Miss MacGregor.”

  Mav’s ears perked.

  Alastair started forward, and he dropped the pile of papers in his hands. He dropped to the floor and recovered them. Alastair’s eyes wandered around the room like a ticking clock. “Why on earth would you say that? Victoria is my friend.”

  “Right.” Mrs. Kemp gave a dramatic sigh. “I thought you might come back at me with some sentimental explanation, but the heart of the matter is this: she isn’t who she claims to be.”

  Mav almost lost his footing, tipping over his small stack. He recovered his balance, but his chest seized in some new sensation—panic-ridden shock and defiance.

  “After our outing at Del Mar’s and my late-night discussion with Larsen, I returned to an empty apartment. Victoria was nowhere to be seen, Alastair, and dawn was only hours away. So, I did what any intelligent woman would do; I went through her trunk. I was only half-way through her dresses and bobbles when I found this paper.” Sophie pulled a folded piece of paper from her collar. “Read it.”

  Alastair ripped the document from her hand. His eyes frantically scanned the page.

  Sophie lifted her chin. “A marriage document—her real name is Victoria Jones, and she isn’t free as she’s so conveyed. Not only that, but I found no evidence of
her supposed fortune—none at all. She’s using you, Alastair.”

  His face, so reddened earlier, had now drained to a sickly pale color. “There’s some mistake. Victoria wouldn’t lie. Besides, what would she have to gain by befriending me?”

  Sophie laughed; it was a condescending and high-pitched sound. “She’s using you to get to me, of course. I found notes in her journal under the pillow—a record of all my goings and doings, things you said about me…there’s not much the woman missed, actually.”

  Alastair’s shoulders caved over his chest, and the spectacles balancing on the brim of his nose slipped down. He shook his head. “This is another one of your schemes to keep me to yourself. You don’t like the fact that I’ve another woman in my life, a woman I trust more than you.”

  “I don’t like that at all, but even I could not stop you from fraternizing with a person, were it not for her threat. Take the certificate.” She set it atop his papers. “When you take her to Ralston’s tomorrow, why don’t you ask her the truth of it?”

  “And if it’s true?”

  Sophie shrugged. “Then you’ll know who you can truly trust, and you can dispose of her. But please, you must return for the shipment. I’m taking Larsen for the first time, and you know how I hate the excursions.”

  Mav’s throat turned to sand. He tried to swallow, but the effort only grated. He stacked his final box and left to the alley, where he was supposed to have met Victoria earlier, before the shipment. He’d had no choice but to obey Sophie’s orders.

  The fire escape called to him. If the day had turned dark and he could manage the escape without being seen, he’d have gone. He wanted to fly up the ladder and into Victoria’s kitchen window to warn her. She couldn’t go with Alastair tomorrow; she needed to return to Denver straight away. He could manage the rest of the case on his own.

  “Larsen!” Mrs. Kemp called from the backroom.