Caught by Surprise

by Jen Turano

  Gilbert had no idea how to respond to that bit of nonsense, having never in his entire life been confronted with a lady he thought might have just proposed to him. Thankfully, he was spared a response when Temperance marched across the room.

  “You’re embarrassing yourself, Clementine,” she said as she took hold of Clementine’s arm and practically dragged her away from Gilbert. “I would never allow Gilbert to marry you, he’s much too dear to me. But getting back to what Fanny thinks should be disclosed . . .” She pushed Clementine into a chair, then nodded to Wayne. “I’m listening, and in case it was in question, the topic was where you got the money to fetch me home from Paris.”

  For a long moment, Wayne didn’t say a word, but then his shoulders sagged another inch, and he looked rather resigned. “Mr. Howland gave me the money to see you back to the states, as well as a few thousand dollars, which I thought was to compensate for my troubles.” He shook his head. “I had no idea that was all the money left from your father’s fortune, because if I had, I wouldn’t have used it to secure this house, or even agreed to take you under my roof in the first place.”

  “You used that money to buy this house?” Temperance asked.

  “It wasn’t enough to buy the house, just rent it until more funds became available.” Wayne blew out a breath. “Imagine my horror when upon our return from Paris, I learned there was no additional money and I was stuck with you until you turned twenty-five.”

  “But what did you tell this Mr. Howland?” Gilbert pressed. “Was he not horrified to discover you’d used up all of Temperance’s inheritance on a house that wasn’t for her?”

  Wayne frowned. “She got to live here, so it was somewhat meant for her. And yes, Mr. Howland was horrified when I disclosed what I’d done, but felt it best not to disclose that to Temperance because there was no way to retrieve the money I’d already spent.”

  “I might have to set up an appointment with this Mr. Howland,” Agent McParland said, looking up from the notes he’d been taking. “It seems less than ethical for a man of affairs to withhold such pertinent information from a client.” He settled his attention on Wayne. “Where can I find him?”

  For some reason, all the color seemed to leak right out of Wayne’s face. “I don’t believe there’s any reason to speak with Mr. Howland. It was my error, not his, and he probably doesn’t even recall the particulars of Temperance’s case since it was years ago.”

  “Wonder what Wayne’s hiding,” Harrison said quietly, coming up to stand beside Gilbert.

  “I’m not sure,” Gilbert returned as Eugene walked up to join them as well.

  “He don’t seem like the sort to know how to go about hiring criminals,” Eugene said out of the corner of his mouth. “Ask him about that abduction again.”

  Gilbert smiled. “Excellent idea, Eugene. Thank you.”

  As Eugene beamed a smile back at him, exposing missing teeth in the process, Gilbert caught Wayne’s eye, noticing as he did so that Wayne was now an interesting shade of green.

  “Who hired the people responsible for Temperance’s abduction?” he asked.

  “I never said I was responsible for that,” Wayne shot back.

  “Of course you were responsible,” Temperance said, rolling her eyes. “Why else would there have been a yellow gown waiting in the room reserved for a Mr. Smith and wife at the Palmer House?”

  Agent McParland cleared his throat, drawing Wayne’s attention. “As I tell most everyone of the questionable sort, it’ll go easier on you if you cooperate.”

  Wayne rose to his feet and moved to the window, looking out. “I’ve done nothing illegal, so there’s no reason to threaten me, Agent McParland. Might I have arranged for my daughter to be abducted? I suppose there’s no harm in owning up to that, but it was done merely as an amusing incident, and Clementine was fully aware of what was planned.”

  “Father, I knew nothing of the sort,” Clementine all but sputtered, her sputters coming to an abrupt end when Wayne turned from the window and held up his hand.

  “Be quiet, Clementine,” he said before he looked out the window again. “And since I know you’re determined to find out how I went about making arrangements for that amusing incident, I sought out Mr. Howland. He’s a rather savvy sort, and I knew he’d be able to arrange all the particulars of the amusing abduction because, as an attorney, he knows all sorts of people in the city.”

  “You had the money to hire Mr. Howland to hire on criminals who were then supposed to follow through on the abduction?” Temperance asked.

  “Mr. Howland didn’t charge me, and he didn’t plan out the abduction, simply arranged for the less-than-proficient members of what I thought were the criminal set to see Clementine safely to Chicago.”

  “Where she’d then be rescued by Gilbert and seen by Aunt Minnie, or rather, Mrs. Boggart Hobbes, who’d then encourage Gilbert to marry Clementine to save her reputation?” Temperance asked a little too sweetly.

  Gilbert wasn’t certain, but he thought Wayne muttered “That was the plan” before he leaned closer to the glass, his attention firmly settled on something outside the window.

  “Where did you get the funds to put this plan into motion?” Agent McParland asked.

  “I sold one of my diamond necklaces,” Fanny said, speaking up. “And a bracelet that I still miss most dreadfully, but I thought it would be worth it in the end if Clementine ended up with . . .” She shot a look to Gilbert, winced, then pressed her lips together and didn’t say another word.

  “And what did you have to sell to settle a price on Temperance’s head?” Agent McParland pressed.

  Wayne tore his attention from whatever he’d been looking at outside. “I don’t know how I’m going to convince you of this, Agent McParland, but I never put a price on—”

  The sound of breaking glass drowned out the rest of his words as Wayne suddenly stumbled away from the window, clutching his arm before he slumped to the ground. The sound of gunfire split the air, and glass from every window began to shatter.

  Rushing to Temperance’s side, Gilbert picked her up and dove behind a settee as the sound of additional shots being fired reverberated in his ears and mayhem descended on the drawing room.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  The solid weight of Gilbert’s body over hers made breathing next to impossible. But when Temperance realized the body protecting her from the bullets still raining into the drawing room wasn’t moving, all thoughts of breathing disappeared as panic pulsed through her veins.

  “Gilbert,” she yelled, her voice muffled against his chest. “Gilbert, answer me,” she yelled again as tears stung her eyes and her throat closed with terror.

  When he didn’t respond, or stir so much as a single inch, she tried to push him off her, her attempts futile because her arms were pinned underneath him.

  “They’re getting away,” someone shouted, allowing her to realize that the assault had stopped and the only sound she could hear now was that of crunching glass as someone walked across the floor.

  “Stay down,” she heard Harrison call out from the other side of the room.

  Wiggling to see if she could inch her way from underneath Gilbert, she stilled when she felt a rumble, and then . . .

  “Don’t even think about moving,” Gilbert rasped, the sound of his voice the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

  With a groan, he lifted himself up on an elbow, brushed aside a strand of hair that was covering her eyes, then peered into her face, taking a second to capture one of the tears trailing down her cheek.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, but . . . I thought you were dead.”

  Gilbert’s eyes twinkled. “Clearly I’m not, which means the good Lord above must still have plans for me.” He winced. “I did knock the wind out of myself when I landed, but I must have knocked the wind out of you as well, since I used you for a cushion.” With that, he rolled off her as they were joined by Ag
ent McParland.

  “Are either of you hurt?” Agent McParland asked, squatting down next to them.

  “We’re fine, just a bit stunned,” Gilbert said, pushing himself to a sitting position and helping Temperance do the same. “Everyone else?”

  “I’ve been shot,” Wayne howled, drawing Temperance’s attention. Curiously enough, he was not still by the window, but by the door leading to the hallway. Standing over him as he laid on the floor was Eugene, who’d evidently had the presence of mind to get Wayne out of direct danger when bullets began to fly.

  “You ain’t dying, sir,” Eugene said, bending down to hand Wayne a handkerchief that was less than pristine. “I already looked at your arm, and the bullet went clean through, not even hitting the bone.”

  Those words had Wayne releasing a feeble moan right before he fainted dead away.

  “My poor darling,” Fanny cried, emerging from under the desk before she began crawling across the floor to Wayne’s side. She took one look at the wound on his arm, shuddered, then lifted her head. “We must get him straight to a hospital.”

  “Indeed,” Agent McParland said. “But you will need to wait until I make certain the danger is gone.” He rose to his feet and nodded to Fanny. “Put pressure on the wound, although do know that since it’s not bleeding overly much, your husband should be fine.” He looked to Gilbert. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Harrison said, shaking shards of glass out of hair that was no longer bound by the ribbon he’d been wearing.

  “Wouldn’t it be better if you stayed here to protect us, Mr. Sinclair?” Clementine asked, popping up from where she’d been hiding under a drop-leaf table. She immediately began assuming her damsel-in-distress pose, complete with the nibbling of a lip and the wringing of hands in a most dramatic fashion.

  “I wish I could, Miss Flowerdew, but I can’t very well leave Agent McParland to deal with numerous criminals on his own.” Harrison gestured to Eugene. “No need to fret you’ll be in danger. Eugene will protect you, as well as Gilbert.” With that, he and Agent McParland strode from the room, their pistols at the ready.

  “Like the man said, ain’t no need to fret that someone will harm you,” Eugene said, pushing open his jacket before he pulled up his shirt, exposing his hairy stomach in the process. Retrieving his knife even as he ignored Clementine and Fanny gaping at him, he pulled his shirt back over his stomach and drew himself up to his full height, looking rather intimidating.

  “Goodness,” Fanny breathed before she bent over her husband, pulling a clean handkerchief out of the sleeve of her gown and pretending she didn’t see the one Eugene had given Wayne. Pressing it over Wayne’s arm, Fanny began whispering what seemed to be terms of endearment to her husband, something that gave Temperance pause.

  She’d never thought about her cousins as being anything other than ghastly, but now, when faced with the idea that Fanny did seem to hold Wayne in deepest affection, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were truly as terrible as she’d assumed.

  “This should put an end to that nonsensical idea you had about my father hiring on someone to murder you,” Clementine said as she picked her way across the debris scattered on the drawing room floor to join her mother, glaring at Temperance all the while.

  “How do you reason that out?”

  Clementine sank to her knees, reaching out to smoothe a hand over her father’s forehead, another display of affection Temperance had not been expecting to witness.

  “Someone just shot up our home,” Clementine said. “And while it is true that none of us particularly enjoyed having you around, we don’t want to see you dead. You’ve been a bother, there’s no question about that, especially since you did steal the gentleman I wanted straight away from me.” She nodded to Gilbert, not bothering to flutter her lashes so much as once at him, then turned her gaze back on Temperance. “The event we just experienced seems to suggest someone has taken issue with anyone possessing the name Flowerdew, which should have you concluding that my parents and I are not the ones who put a price on your head.”

  “The question of the hour, though, is who has taken issue with the Flowerdew family,” Gilbert said. He gestured to the room at large. “This was quite the planned-out attack, and one that has a hint of desperation to it because it was carried out in the middle of the day, not under cloak of darkness.”

  Temperance took a moment to look at the destruction surrounding her. Jagged pieces of glass held stubbornly to the side of the windows, while the heavy velvet drapes that framed those windows were pierced with holes and were sagging from their rods. The walls were marked with holes from the bullets, and the furniture had tufts of cotton sticking out of almost every piece. The settee she’d been sitting on was riddled with holes, proof that her life had been in jeopardy, spared only because . . .

  Drawing in a sharp breath, she turned to Gilbert. “What were you thinking?”

  Gilbert stopped brushing bits of what looked to be pieces of fabric from his jacket. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Temperance. To what are you referring, and why, pray tell, do I get the distinct impression you’re suddenly put out with me?”

  She jerked a hand toward the settee. “You could have been killed coming to my assistance. There were bullets raining down on the room.”

  “Surely you don’t believe I would have simply run for cover and allowed you to take one of those bullets, do you?”

  “You could have been killed,” she said again. “Did that not enter your head?”

  Gilbert took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I didn’t really consider the matter.”

  “But . . . why?” she whispered.

  His brows drew together. “Why what?”

  “Why would you not have considered the idea you were placing yourself in death’s direct path by rescuing me?”

  For a long moment, Gilbert simply stared at her, quite as if he found her to be some peculiar creature he’d never seen before. But then he shook his head and squeezed her hand again. “I don’t know why you’re surprised I reacted how I did when bullets were whizzing around the room. It’s what we do, Temperance, it’s what we’ve always done. We look out for one another.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed an unexpected kiss on it. “Would you not have done the same if I’d been sitting on that particular piece of furniture and we came under attack?”

  “Of course, although I might have had a touch of difficulty picking you up, but . . .” The rest of her words died a rapid death when he sent her a quirk of a brow even as he smiled a bit smugly.

  “You’re very annoying” were the most eloquent words she seemed capable of getting out of her mouth.

  His smile widened. “As are you, and not very appreciative either, since I did just save your life and you’re cross with me for doing so.” He shook his head. “I’m amazed you would question my judgment with saving you, because, again, I’ve saved you often in the past, something you’ve clearly forgotten.”

  “You saved me from numerous reprimands from our parents when I got us into too much mischief,” she corrected. “That’s not the same as saving my life.”

  “It’s the same principle.” His smile faded. “But I am sorry I frightened you, although I’m encouraged by the idea you’d mourn my death. Makes me think you may very well decide to marry me yet.”

  Temperance opened her mouth, an argument on the tip of her tongue, but swallowed that argument as she considered him for a long moment.

  When she’d thought he was dead, it was one of the most horrible moments of her life, punching a hole in her heart.

  Gilbert was her very dear friend, had always been exceedingly dear to her, and she loved him for that. But lately, if she were honest with herself, that love had begun to change.

  It had begun to turn into something . . . more.

  That thought caught her by complete surprise and had her pulling her hand out of his, even as she forced a smile.
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  Evidently, while she’d been reclaiming her sense of self, she’d apparently set aside all sense of practicality, not that she’d ever been a very practical sort to begin with, because . . . it would be beyond ridiculous to love Gilbert in anything other than a strictly friendly fashion.

  He was a gentleman who approached life in a no-nonsense manner, and had never been one to embrace an overly affectionate attitude, becoming uncomfortable whenever he was confronted with situations of the emotional kind.

  He would never be able to return affections of the romantic sort, which meant she’d be a fool to allow her emotions to go unchecked in regard to him, because . . .

  A loud moan ripped her straight from her musings. Turning her head, she found Wayne stirring as Fanny doused his face with water she’d apparently found in the bottom of a half-broken vase.

  “I don’t think there’s any need for a bath, Fanny,” Wayne said, opening his eyes as Fanny let out a sigh of relief and Clementine stifled what might have been a sob.

  Gilbert pushed himself to his feet. “While I’m beyond curious as to what you were thinking before Wayne came to, especially because you had a most peculiar look on your face, I know you well enough to realize it would be futile on my part to expect you to disclose what were obviously unsettling thoughts.” He sent her a significant look. “I also know you get annoyed with me when I pester you about something you don’t care to disclose, so to distract myself, shall we go and join your cousins on the other side of the room?”

  Knowing he was quite correct and that she certainly wasn’t going to disclose her troubling thoughts, Temperance took the hand Gilbert offered her and was soon pulled to her feet. Walking beside him over the glass-strewn floor, she stopped next to Eugene. She was relieved to discover that he seemed to be taking his task of protecting them to heart, since his knife was gripped firmly in his hand and his gaze kept darting every which way.