Caught by Surprise

by Jen Turano

  Not caring to startle her, Temperance stopped a few feet away, smiling when the memory flashed to mind of how often she and Gilbert had spent afternoons doing the very same thing, searching for shells and dragging their treasures home with them when the sun began to set.

  Opening her mouth when the woman began to straighten, Temperance’s words of greeting lodged in her throat when the lady turned her way, holding not a seashell in her hand, but a pistol.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Six

  For the briefest of seconds, Gilbert thought his eyes were deceiving him, until Temperance’s grip on his hand turned painful and he realized the woman who’d been collecting shells was pointing a gun at Temperance.

  Not wanting to take the chance of the pistol going off if he charged the woman or pulled his own gun, Gilbert lifted his gaze from the pistol to the woman’s face, realizing in a split second that he was not facing a woman, but a man disguised as a woman, complete with wig and gown.

  “Mr. Howland!” Temperance exclaimed in a voice that was brimming with disbelief. “Good heavens, sir, lower your weapon. If it has escaped your notice, there are Pinkerton agents even now swarming toward us, which means you’ll soon find yourself good and dead if you continue pointing that gun at me.”

  “I’m not certain now is the exact moment to turn demanding, Temperance,” Gilbert said out of the corner of his mouth, earning a nod of agreement from the man Temperance had just called Mr. Howland, her father’s reprehensible attorney, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  “Excellent advice, Mr. Cavendish,” Mr. Howland returned as he kept his pistol trained on Temperance. “Although I would have been spared this unpleasant interlude if Miss Flowerdew would have succumbed to any number of attempts I . . . well, just allow me to simply say that she’s caused me a great deal of bother, along with a large amount of money.”

  Temperance lifted her chin. “So sorry to be such a bother, Mr. Howland, but you must realize that it was foolish in the extreme to come after me yourself. Although I must say your decision to disguise yourself as a woman was somewhat ingenious since you were able to get near me even with all the Pinkertons about.”

  “Those agents have been annoyingly thorough with their questions regarding me and anyone associated with me,” Mr. Howland said, his gaze sliding to the right where Gilbert then noticed Agent Samuel McParland running toward them, his pistol drawn and his expression dangerous. “I had no choice but to assume a different identity, along with a different gender to throw them off my trail.”

  “Efforts that now seem somewhat wasted since you’ve revealed yourself not only to me, but to the Pinkertons as well,” Temperance said right as Agent McParland splashed through the surf, stopping a few feet away from them when Mr. Howland cocked the pistol that was still aimed at Temperance.

  “Lower your weapon,” Agent McParland ordered, seemingly unperturbed that he was facing a gentleman dressed as a woman. “You’re completely surrounded, and if it was in question, there’s no avenue of escape for you now.”

  Mr. Howland didn’t so much as blink. “I’m not an idiot, sir. I’m well aware I’m surrounded, knew I would be the moment I decided to confront Miss Flowerdew.”

  “And you still confronted her and have yet to lower your weapon,” Agent McParland pointed out.

  “Miss Flowerdew and I have matters to discuss, and until we finish, I’m not lowering my weapon.”

  Gilbert took a single step forward, stilling when he noticed Mr. Howland’s hand beginning to tremble. “You can discuss those matters with Temperance without threatening her, sir. Your pistol is making everyone nervous, and it’s not wise to make Pinkerton agents nervous. They tend to turn deadly in those types of situations.”

  Mr. Howland ignored him, turning his full attention to Temperance. “This day would never have come to pass if you’d not rediscovered your spine, but had remained humbled under the thumb of that ridiculous cousin of yours.” He dashed the hand not holding the pistol over a perspiring forehead, tilting his wig. “You also wouldn’t find yourself in this nasty situation if you hadn’t steered the Pinkerton men after me in the first place. I don’t care to be chased down like a fox on a hunt.”

  “I didn’t ask the Pinkertons to hunt you down, Mr. Howland,” Temperance said. “They were only hired after it became clear someone wanted Gilbert and me dead. I’m afraid the Pinkertons, being competent sorts, discovered that someone might very well be you.”

  “Your life wouldn’t have been in jeopardy if detectives hadn’t begun showing up at my office, asking pesky questions about my dealings with your family.” He swiped at his forehead again. “My secretary told me those questions implied that I’d not been honest in my dealings with you.”

  Temperance narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t been honest.”

  “You have no proof of that, and I take great offense that my secretary now believes she has cause to question my integrity.”

  Gilbert frowned. “Did you not tell my mother, Mrs. William Beckwith, that Temperance had elected to continue on with a tour of the continents after her parents died?”

  “That was a long time ago. It’s difficult to say with any certainty.”

  “But you didn’t bother to forward any of the letters my mother wrote to Temperance, did you? And when she inquired about why Temperance was not writing back to her, you then told my mother you’d heard from Temperance, but that she did not wish to correspond with my mother for some ridiculous reason.”

  “I was sparing the poor child additional grief by keeping her from having to deal with people who’d been close friends of her parents.”

  “But why did you lie about it?” Temperance asked. “I’m afraid I simply do not understand the reasoning behind what appears to be a great deal of subterfuge.”

  Mr. Howland, oddly enough, nodded. “I’m not surprised you’d be confused. You never seemed to me to be possessed of more than a modicum of intelligence, which is exactly why I was shocked when Pinkerton agents began snooping into my business. I never expected you to have the gumption to question the business dealings I had with your father.”

  When Temperance seemed to be at a loss for what to say to that, Gilbert stepped in. “I fear you did, indeed, underestimate Temperance. She may embrace a love of the arts, which has apparently allowed you to believe she’s lacking in intelligence, but behind her air of whimsicality lies a mind that is far superior to most men I know.”

  Temperance, even with a gun being pointed her way, flashed him a smile, one that quickly faded when Mr. Howland began waving that pistol around.

  “I don’t think I’d go that far, Mr. Cavendish, although I will acknowledge that she’s been incredibly difficult to . . . silence.”

  “And you’ve been incredibly diligent in your quest to have both of us silenced,” Gilbert countered.

  Mr. Howland gave another wave of the pistol. “I didn’t try to have you killed, Mr. Cavendish, although since I’ve become aware of how involved you are in Miss Flowerdew’s life, I probably should have considered that. If there were attempts on your life, those were simply because you were apparently in Miss Flowerdew’s company.”

  Before he could argue, Temperance lifted her chin.

  “I still don’t understand what I did to you that would have you hiring on members of the criminal set to see me dead.”

  Mr. Howland considered her question for a long moment. “You were born to a man I grew to loathe—a man who was capable of amassing an enormous fortune, not through strenuous labor or by working from dawn to dusk, but simply through his uncanny talent for knowing what investments were going to increase his fortune. It was unfair, the lack of effort he put into making money, and I grew tired of watching him succeed time after time after time.”

  Trepidation slithered down Gilbert’s spine. “What did you do?”

  “I used the gifts I was given to improve my own lot in life—those gifts being a very ordinary face, an ability to convince people I am above repr
oach, and . . . an unsurpassable talent for forgery.”

  Temperance glanced Gilbert’s way, her eyes filled with gathering storm clouds. Knowing it would not bode well for the situation if she lost her temper, he cleared his throat, wanting to pull out as much information as he could from Mr. Howland before the Pinkerton detectives made their move—one that would hopefully not find anyone dead.

  “So you used the misfortune of Mr. and Mrs. Flowerdew’s death to help yourself to what should have been Temperance’s inheritance, didn’t you?” was the first thing that popped into his mind to say.

  “My dear man, do you honestly believe I would have waited for Anthony Flowerdew to meet his demise on one of the many, many journeys he was so fond of making?” Mr. Howland let out a bark of laughter before Gilbert could reply. “It was maddening, watching Anthony go sailing off on one whim after another while I was stuck toiling behind a desk, pushing paperwork day after day.” His lips twisted. “I finally came up with a brilliant plan that would give me the funds I deserved while putting an end to the annoyance I experienced every single time I encountered Anthony or received a hastily scribbled letter telling me to invest in one lucrative deal after another for him.”

  Temperance had gone remarkably still beside him, but even knowing that what Mr. Howland had left to say was going to be downright horrific, Gilbert could not let Mr. Howland stop his tale. He knew Temperance was going to find the truth painful, but he also knew she needed to hear all of it in order to move on with her life.

  “It was easy, if you want to know the truth of it,” Mr. Howland continued. “I contacted a few of my more questionable associates, asked if they wanted some work. They did, and so I arranged for them to get on as crewmembers on a ship bound for South America.”

  He shook his head, along with the pistol, turning Gilbert’s blood to ice.

  “It was a painfully long wait for that ship to return, but the wait was well worth it once I learned my men, Bernie the Butcher and Richard the Snake, two men I understand are now residing in jail, had been successful, and my problem of Anthony Flowerdew and his far too beautiful wife, Grace—a lady, by the way, who seemed immune to my charm—were gone forever.”

  “You murdered my parents?” Temperance all but hissed as she tried to move forward, forcing Gilbert to tighten his hold on her hand.

  “Have you not been listening to what I’ve said?” Mr. Howland hissed right back at her. “I didn’t murder them. Bernie the Butcher probably did, although I will admit Bernie and Richard the Snake were a little vague about the details, probably wanted to spare me the gory mess of it.” He swiped a hand over a forehead that was perspiring more than ever. “But that was only part of my problem—the next revolved around you, Miss Flowerdew. It was a puzzle, what to do with you. I mean, there you were, over in Paris, a spoiled and frivolous girl, one destined to become one of the great American heiresses.”

  Temperance began bristling with temper, forcing Gilbert to dig his feet into the sand to hold her back.

  “You did steal my inheritance, didn’t you?”

  “It was no easy feat, if that makes you feel any better,” Mr. Howland said. “I had to forge papers that gave me executive power over your father’s investments deals in his stead while he was away—a brilliant forgery, if I do say so myself, because I was then able to pull his position out of certain stocks, then repurchase those very same stocks under my name, not his.”

  “That was brilliant,” Gilbert said, deciding to appeal to Mr. Howland’s ego to keep the man from remembering he was holding a deadly weapon in his hand, especially since Mr. Howland was clearly becoming more agitated by the second.

  “It was, but what was even more brilliant was the plan I formulated to deal with Temperance.” He began inspecting his pistol. “You see, I’d met Anthony’s good friend, your stepfather, Mr. William Beckwith, and knew him to be a very astute gentleman. I could not afford to allow him the opportunity of looking over Anthony’s books because William would have known Anthony would never invest his entire fortune in one railroad stock. Luckily for me, William and your mother, Florence, departed for India not long after I came up with my plan.”

  Mr. Howland’s eyes suddenly flashed with what almost seemed to Gilbert to be a trace of madness. “As luck would also have it, I’d been privy to a conversation Anthony had with Grace when they invited me to join them for dinner at Delmonico’s one evening years ago. During that conversation, Anthony remarked that his cousin, Wayne Flowerdew, was a man known to live above his means without the motivation to earn his own fortune. That conversation was what determined my next step—forging Anthony’s will to give guardianship of you, my dear Miss Flowerdew, to Wayne, instead of to whom your parents wanted—Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith.”

  Temperance stiffened, drew in a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush. “It must have bothered you to give Wayne a few thousand dollars of your ill-gotten fortune to whet his appetite for more and agree to fetch me from Paris.”

  “A few thousand dollars was a paltry sum compared to the entirety of your father’s worth. And it worked like a charm. Wayne sailed off for Paris and fetched you back. As expected, you, the spoiled and pampered princess of my nemesis, crumpled the moment you learned you were left in this world without your parents and without the money you were so accustomed to having at your fingertips.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I was so disappointed when Wayne made the poor decision to move to New York, using the paltry amount of money he’d gotten to rent that place on Park Avenue. However, because I soon learned he’d turned you into nothing more than a poor relation, and something of a servant if I’m not mistaken, I forgave him that error in judgment, never imagining that you’d somehow find a backbone, which has led us to this very moment.”

  Temperance’s face began to darken. “I didn’t do a single thing to warrant the attacks you’ve recently directed my way. I had no idea you’d stolen my inheritance. It disgusts me that I never considered the matter, but because of that ignorance, I don’t understand why you decided I needed to die, or why you’d want Gilbert dead as well.”

  “As I mentioned before, I don’t want Mr. Cavendish dead. But as for you and those simpleton cousins of yours, I knew drastic measures were going to be needed after Wayne approached me to find him some men to perpetuate some ridiculous farce of an abduction. He threatened me, if you can believe it, told me he’d tell you about that money I gave him, as well as tell you that I agreed to never allow you to know about that money, which would have certainly sent you seeking an audience with me, one I wanted to avoid at all costs.” He swiped his forehead again. “I’ve never been fond of confrontations.”

  “That’s why you went through the bother of assisting Wayne with that ridiculous abduction scenario?” Gilbert asked. “You’re not fond of confrontations?”

  Mr. Howland inclined his head. “Partially, although the thought did spring to mind that I should simply do away with him, until I had another thought that centered around the idea that suspicions could be raised if another person I was associated with went . . . missing.” He heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately, after the abduction was unsuccessful, I got to thinking that Wayne, being the coward he is, might very well turn on me if he was ever questioned about the abduction, so . . . I decided he’d simply have to go, along with his insipid wife and shrew of a daughter. Since I was going to be hiring on assassins, I figured I might as well have them turn their attention to Temperance as well.”

  Temperance frowned. “Didn’t your wife ever question where your newfound wealth came from?”

  “Of course, which is why I said that you can draw suspicion if too many people you are acquainted with go missing.”

  “You were responsible for your wife going missing?” Temperance all but whispered.

  Waving that aside, Mr. Howland pushed back the wig that had fallen almost to his eyes due to his excessive perspiring. “She was always a sickly woman, so she would have died sooner or later, and it’s not a
s if she went missing long. Her body was found slumped over a bench in a park, her death ruled to be from natural causes.”

  Temperance’s eyes flashed. “From the sounds of it, her death was anything but natural.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s not natural,” Mr. Howland began. “Being tortured by the continued breath that seems impossible to steal from your body.” A trace of spittle trailed from his lips to his chin. “Because you refuse to die, Miss Flowerdew, thoughts of you plague me endlessly, those thoughts driving me to distraction.”

  “I’m certain thoughts of murder would drive you to distraction.”

  Mr. Howland, to Gilbert’s surprise, shook his head. “It’s not the murder that’s distracting me now, Miss Flowerdew, it’s the guilt.”

  For a second, Temperance gawked at the man, until her lips thinned. “I’m supposed to believe you feel guilty for trying to murder me, murdering my parents, and for stealing my father’s fortune?”

  “It’s the only explanation I could come up with to explain why you’ve taken over my thoughts.” Mr. Howland’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve also come up with a way to remedy that unfortunate state of affairs, which is to . . .”

  “Kill me?” Temperance finished for him.

  He inclined his head as a small smile played around his lips. “It’s tempting, but I decided what would rid me of these thoughts would be to disclose all the wrongs I’ve done you. That will allow me to empty my mind of anything concerning the Flowerdew family. I’ve left papers detailing where I invested all your father’s money, as well as my duplicity in taking that money. You’ll find I didn’t lose much of your father’s fortune, so you may once again embrace a life of frivolity and lack of purpose. I’m hopeful that by telling you all this, I’ll find a small measure of peace when I move to the great beyond. Do know that I have regrets about what I’ve done, but since I don’t care to turn maudlin, I’ll simply bid you good day, and . . .”