To Love a Spy

by Aileen Fish

  The beat of her heart thumped in a different rhythm as fear grew inside her. The man really didn’t appear to be mean. So then why did he make her feel as though he was upset at something she’d done?

  Perhaps she should approach him and ask him why he’d been watching her with such malice. Then again, she didn’t want her brother to turn into the overprotective guardian she’d always loathed. And for sure, she didn’t want to cause a scene.

  The train finally came to a complete stop, and immediately, the passengers rose from their seats to collect their things and leave. All except for the strange man.

  Nicole followed her brother out of the railcar, and as they stepped onto the ground, she glanced behind her. Just as she’d expected, the man was following her back a little ways, going at a slower pace. Unease twisted in her stomach as she focused ahead of her while her mind scrambled with what she could do or say to make him explain why he acted this way.

  Gordon walked her to the carriage that waited for them, but she put her hand on his arm just as he tried to help her up into the vehicle.

  “I forgot something in the train,” she said in a rush. “I’ll be right back.” Before hearing his answer, she turned and hurried toward the train.

  The man stood with his back against the wall of the train, his arms down at his sides. In one of his hands, he clutched a newspaper. When he noticed her coming toward him, he quickly lifted the newspaper up and pretended to read. He certainly wasn’t any good at this cat-and-mouse game.

  As she approached him, she finally realized his clothes didn’t quite fit his frame very well. They hung on him as if they were three sizes larger. He didn’t tear his gaze away from the newspaper, until she was right next to him. She grasped the rail and placed her foot on the first step, and then turned and met his stare.

  “I need to talk to you. Now. Come inside with me,” she said before climbing the other two steps and moving inside the empty railcar.

  She stopped just inside the door of the car and waited for him, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed him out of the closest window, turning and coming in. As soon as he walked inside, he removed his hat. Immediately, she recognized his tousled hair, and the dreamy hazel eyes that had filled her dreams every night.

  She hitched a breath. “Oh good Heavens, it’s you. Ashton!” She grasped his hands. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Staten Island.”

  The sensual smile she was used to seeing from him didn’t grace his face this time. As he studied her, he tilted his head slightly, appearing almost upset. “From what I’ve gathered, Miss Bastian from last we had talked, you are supposed to be in Staten Island as well.”

  It finally hit her that he didn’t look excited to see her at all—and he didn’t call her by her given name. Oh, dear… She must explain why she was here and on the train, yet she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. As much as it hurt her to lie to him again, she must, in order to protect her brother, father, and the rest of the agents.

  “Well, the last time we talked, I was in Staten Island. However, my father has returned from an extended visit out of state, and so I went to see him and my brother, Gordon.” She motioned toward the window to where her brother still waited for her. “That’s who I was with on the train.”

  Slowly, the worried lines on his face smoothed out, yet his eyes still held a hint of distrust when he scanned the length of her body. Oh-no! She’d forgotten about her dress. What excuse could she give him for dressing like this—and traveling to Hartford?

  “I didn’t recognize you at first.” His voice held no emotion. “I’m not used to seeing you dressed in such a way.”

  She released a light laugh. “I could say the same about you.” She reached over and touched his mustache. “I’m sure it didn’t take you a week to grow this bush over your lips and those long, furry caterpillars by your ears.”

  His lips twitched as if holding back a smile. He shrugged. “I have a good excuse for my disguise. What’s your excuse?”

  Nicole’s body trembled and she folded her hands against her middle. Heartache gathered in her chest and left her throat dry. She’d hurt him, and she had to fix it now! But how? As her mind scrambled to think up an excuse, she smiled the best she could under her duress. “Well, I’m ashamed to say my excuse probably isn’t as good as yours.” She shook her head. “My brother and I dress like this when we ride the train, but I fear telling you might make you think differently about me.”

  Confusion deepened the lines in his expression. “Why?”

  “Because when we wear our regular clothes, people think we are wealthy, and well…they pester us for money.” She forced a frown as she tried to appear emotional. “I hope you don’t think poorly of me, but we can’t keep giving them money. I feel bad for their dire situations, I really do, but my brother and I just don’t have that kind of money to keep giving them.” Hesitantly, she touched Ashton’s sleeve. “You do understand, don’t you?”

  Gradually, his expression eased and the lines in his forehead and around his mouth disappeared. It only took a couple of seconds later before she saw that familiar twinkle in his eyes again. Her heart softened and she sighed a relieved breath.

  “Forgive me, Nicole. I fear it is I who has judged poorly. Of course, I understand.” He took hold of her hand. “And I’m truly sorry for thinking you had lied to me.” He took a peek out the window before returning his attention to her. “So that is your brother? I thought he was one of your beaus.”

  She couldn’t stop the laugh escaping her throat that sounded too much like a bark. “Ashton, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have any beaus. The man is my older brother, Gordon.”

  “Do you have any other family besides a brother and father?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter.” He smiled fully. “I would like to meet them one day—just not right now. I’ll wait until I’m back in my regular clothes, looking like my normal self.”

  “I agree…so what is your excuse for being in disguise?”

  He glanced out the window again, before meeting her stare. “I’d tell you, but I see your brother is getting anxious. You’d better return.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Come see me at my office tomorrow. It’s that large red-bricked building by the train station.” He pointed west of them.

  “I will.” A different rhythm beat in her chest, and she wanted to laugh with giddiness. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “And thank you for being so forgiving to my jealous rage.”

  As she hurried out of the railcar, she couldn’t feel her feet touching the ground. He was jealous! Finally, a man liked her enough to be jealous of other men. She never thought that would happen to her, but now that it had, she’d cherish the feeling for as long as she lived.

  Gordon waited outside the carriage, and as she neared, he ran his gaze up and down her frame. Confusion darkened his expression.

  “What did you leave in the railcar that was so important?” he asked.

  She slid her fingers into the sleeve at her wrist and pulled out a handkerchief. “I’d dropped this.”

  He arched a questionable eyebrow. “And you just had to return to the train for it when I know you have at least twenty more back at home.”

  She flipped the handkerchief in the air as she strutted past him with her chin held high. “I swear, Gordon, you will never understand women. Handkerchiefs are like shoes…we can’t just own one pair.”

  Gordon assisted her in the carriage and sat beside her. She turned her head to look back at the train, hoping to see Ashton watching her. Although it saddened her that she couldn’t see him, she felt that he indeed, had his eyes on her.

  The fluttering in her belly and lightness to her heart made her smile, yet she didn’t dare let her brother see. He had already guessed she was smitten, but she couldn’t tell him anything about her friendship with Ashton. Not yet.

  It didn’t take them long
to return to her father’s townhouse. Banks, and Phelps were also there, and they—along with her father—waited for them in the dining room. Father’s cook had prepared a scrumptious dinner of roast duck and red potatoes. Nicole’s stomach grumbled from the Heavenly aroma filling the room.

  “Are we waiting for Cartwright?” she asked Mr. Banks.

  “Good Heavens, Nicole,” Gordon whined. “Don’t you ever listen to assignments? Cartwright went to Staten Island to the Conrail office there.”

  Silently, she scolded herself. She hadn’t heard that, but it was probably because she was daydreaming about Ashton. She really needed to get a handle on that. She couldn’t have him distracting her worse than she already was.

  She and Gordon hurried up to their rooms to change clothes before dinner. Although she was hungry, she wouldn’t feel right eating until she was wearing a much cleaner dress that wasn’t falling apart. Once finished, she scampered downstairs, almost unlady-like, and rushed into the dining room.

  They all sat around the dining table. Everyone, even Gordon, looked at her when she entered. Her father arched a bushy brown eyebrow at her.

  “My dear? Is there a fire somewhere?”

  She took a deep sniff, but only smelled dinner. “I don’t detect any smoke. Why?”

  The others around the table snickered, but her father didn’t crack a smile. “Because you were running in here so fast, I thought you were coming in to warn us of a fire somewhere in the house.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked to her chair. The men stood and Mr. Banks pulled out the chair for her. As soon as she sat, her father motioned for the servants to start bringing in their meal. When the servants finally left and closed the doors, her father cleared his throat, unfolded a linen cloth and laid it on his lap.

  “Let’s discuss what we discovered today.” He switched his gaze between Gordon and Nicole. “Did you find out anything during your train ride?”

  “Not one thing, Father,” Gordon answered.

  Nicole was grateful for her brother speaking because she was too busy stuffing her mouth with food. She didn’t feel the need to respond, anyway. Her answers would be the same as her brother’s.

  Her father glanced at Mr. Banks. “Did you find anything?”

  He shook his head and rested his arms on his rotund belly. “I checked with the police about how much money had been taken. Apparently, all of it had been taken. In each robbery there was close to one-thousand dollars. The monies were kept in an unmarked metal box. The box itself was not flashy or stood out in any way, so why would anyone want to take it—or did the thief already know it was there?” He scratched his balding head. “The more I learn about this, the more I think that we’re dealing with someone who is working from the inside. Robberies that are this planned out are rare. We are definitely dealing with an expert.”

  “Forgive me, but that doesn’t make much sense,” Nicole said as all eyes turned on her. “How would someone working for the railroad know what was in these metal boxes? Did someone from the government tell them that money was being transported to the south?”

  Mr. Banks shrugged. “From what I’ve gathered, these metal boxes were the same as what the government used during the war when they shipped money to the Union.”

  “So then the person who robbed the trains during the war is probably the person who is doing it now,” Nicole said precisely.

  “That is my thought too.” Mr. Banks nodded.

  Her father tapped his finger to his chin. “I’m thinking that as well. When I was at Conrail’s main office asking questions this morning, one of the co-owners was suspiciously absent. Apparently, he’d been there, but nobody knew where he was or when he’d return. The other two owners are still in the Staten Island office. One of the workers said that although they all knew about the robberies, none of the three co-owners have talked directly to them to explain what is going on.”

  “That is strange,” Gordon mentioned before taking a bite of his potatoes.

  “Mrs. Phelps?” her father asked, looking at the older woman. “What did you discover?”

  She took a sip of her red wine before answering. “Because I have a friend who works at one of New York’s main banks, I had him check to see if any of the three owners of Conrail Railroad have recently acquired large sums of money in their accounts lately. It appears that Mr. Ashton Lee is the only one who has had a great deal of money deposited into his account within the last two months.”

  Nicole’s stomach twisted, and the food on her plate suddenly became unappetizing. The roasted duck still in her mouth lost all of its taste. Even her mouth refused to eat another bite.

  No, not Ashton! But she did recall him mentioning the night of the ball, that he had purchased a home in Staten Island. So if he had money to buy things like that, why didn’t his partners have that money as well? Or, if they did, were they hiding it from him?

  “Did you check the accounts of the other two owners?” Nicole asked the other woman quickly.

  Mrs. Phelps gave her a nod. “Of course. This is why Mr. Lee’s account looked abnormal—because he had more money than Mr. Larson and Mr. Nickerson.”

  Nicole shook her head, slowly at first, but faster the more she thought about all of this. “No, something must be wrong. Mr. Lee can’t be making more than the others. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Nicole,” her father said in his parental tone that set her on edge.

  Inwardly, she cringed. She should have known she couldn’t keep secrets from him. He was one of the best spies in the world. She couldn’t hide anything.

  “Yes, Father?” She sneaked a peek at him. Gone was his agent character, and in its place was her judgmental—but caring—father.

  He patted the linen napkin on his mouth. “Do you know Mr. Ashton Lee, by chance?”

  She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat. “Yes, I have met him.”

  He had started to lower his hand back to the table, but it stilled in mid-air. “Where, may I ask?”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “A week ago, at the masked ball I attended at General Babcock’s house.”

  Her father’s mouth straightened into a solid line and his jaw hardened. Finally, his hand dropped to the table, but still grasped the napkin. “How well do you know Mr. Lee?”

  Oh, Heavens! She couldn’t tell him that. If he knew that she had been friends with him all this time without saying anything, he’d be very disappointed in her. “Uh, we danced a few dances. We talked a little.” We kissed a little more… “And then I saw him again in town the next day when I was shopping with Cousin Emily.”

  When her father started tapping his fingers on the table, she knew he was upset. It didn’t matter that his expression didn’t show it. There were some things she just knew. Just like she knew the sun would rise tomorrow…and that her father would forbid her from seeing Ashton again.

  “Did he give you the impression he wanted to court you?”

  From across the table, her brother shifted in his chair and she quickly glanced his way. Big mistake! He wore a sneer that would irritate even the most patient person. His eyes were wide with surprise, yet the smirk on his face was growing by the second.

  She put her attention back on her father. “Yes, he did, actually,” she answered softly.

  “Are you sweet on him as well?” he asked.

  She dropped her gaze to her plate of food, not really seeing anything. She shrugged. “I thought he was a pleasant man to converse with.”

  Across the table, Gordon snorted, but not loudly. She wanted to throw him a glare but didn’t dare. The woman doth protest too much, he’d told her in the railcar. If she let him know how upset he made her, she was certain he’d throw it in her face again.

  Silence stretched around the dining room for several awkward moments. She didn’t want to look up to see if everyone was staring at her.

  When a deep sigh rattled from her father, she dared sneak a glance his way. Surprisingly, he didn�
�t look as mad as he had a few minutes ago.

  “Then if you know him,” he began in a stern voice, “I think you should be the one to talk to him and spy on him.”

  “I thought Mr. Banks was going to do that,” she said quickly, and with entirely too much excitement in her voice.

  Her father moved his focus to the middle-aged man. “George, I think you would agree with me on this, that Mr. Lee would feel more comfortable if Nicole were to ask him questions—vaguely, of course—better than he would if you asked him questions.”

  Shock vibrated through Nicole so suddenly it caught in her throat and made her choke. Quickly, she cleared and throat and studied her father. He was serious! She didn’t see that coming at all.

  Mr. Banks bobbed his head before taking a sip of his wine. “You are quite right, Conrad. The man would be too suspicious if a stranger poked his nose into his business, but since Nicole is already acquainted with him, I believe he will open up and trust her more quickly than a stranger.”

  She couldn’t be hearing right. Yet, what they said did make sense.

  Excitement beat inside her chest and threatened to jump up her throat and out of her mouth. She quickly took a sip of her drink before it could do that very thing.

  “Starting tomorrow, Nicole,” her father continued, “I want you to visit him in his office and get to know the man a little better. We need answers, and soon. If you feel Mr. Ashton Lee should not be a suspect, then I expect you to find the proof of his innocence.”

  “I will,” she said, almost too fast.

  Although she was anxious to see him again, she now worried that she might mess up this case in some way. After all, she couldn’t act like the love-stricken woman he met—and kissed—last week. Now she must put on another, more professional charade and become a Secret Agent.

  This would not be easy!

  Chapter 8

  Ashton scanned the railroad’s monthly budget report for the tenth time, but nothing was adding up. Of course, his mind wasn’t focused on work, but on Nicole Bastian, instead. A beautiful, mysterious, and very confusing woman.