Caught by Surprise

by Jen Turano

  He raised the pistol to his temple, and without thinking, Gilbert released Temperance’s hand and lunged, tackling Mr. Howland into the sudsy surf right as the pistol fired.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  The sight of Gilbert flailing about in the surf sent relief flowing over her, which quickly turned to disbelief when Mr. Howland staggered to his feet and dashed straight into the ocean. Lifting up the hem of her skirt, Temperance ran in after him, fighting through the waves the deeper she traveled into the sea.

  “Leave me alone!” Mr. Howland bellowed before he dove under a wave, disappearing from sight.

  Diving after him, even though her skirt immediately began tangling around her legs, Temperance began swimming, pulled to an abrupt stop when someone grabbed her around the waist. Breaking the surface, she shoved hair out of her face right as Gilbert hauled her up against a firmly muscled chest.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

  “My mind is in fine working order, but I can’t say the same for Mr. Howland’s. We need to tow him back to shore before he drowns.”

  “If you’ll look over there, Agent McParland is already doing that.”

  Peering around Gilbert, she saw Agent McParland tugging a thrashing Mr. Howland toward shore while several of the other agents rushed through the water to assist him. “I forgot we had Pinkerton men here.”

  “Clearly.”

  She frowned. “Should I assume you’re cross with me for going after him?”

  “I’m more aggravated than cross. You’re not exactly dressed for a dip in the sea, and you could have drowned if you’d gotten out too far.”

  “And that would have aggravated you?”

  “It would have devastated me.”

  Warmth spread through her, even though the water they were in could only be described as frigid. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “You will promise me here and now that you will never place yourself in such peril again.”

  “One would hope that with Mr. Howland soon to be out of our lives, neither of us will face such perilous times again.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Your promise, Temperance.”

  She narrowed her eyes right back at him. “It’s not as if I deliberately set out to place myself in peril. But since you’re obviously going to be stubborn about this, and my teeth are beginning to chatter . . . I promise I’ll never follow a murderer into the ocean again while dressed in what used to be a lovely walking gown but will now have to be assigned to the ragbag.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said right before a wave sent them tumbling through the water.

  Sputtering to the surface a moment later, Gilbert hauled her right up next to him again. And even though it was hardly the time or the place, she had no control over knees that felt remarkably like jelly, the cause of that pesky feeling obviously a direct result of being pressed against his firmly muscled chest once more. Sweeping her straight up into his arms, he began heading to shore, their progress slowed time and time again when waves would lift him off his feet and carry them forward. To her surprise, he did not set her down when they reached the shallow surf, but kept her in his arms, splashing his way toward the beach.

  “Would you like me to take Miss Temperance?” Eugene called, having abandoned his post guarding the carriage and now standing in the shallow water beside Mr. Barclay, who was missing his hat and looking paler than usual.

  “I’ve got her,” Gilbert called back, sloshing toward the two men who fell into step beside him as he walked out of the water.

  “You took a good few years off my life, Miss Temperance,” Mr. Barclay said, reaching out to touch her shoulder while Gilbert turned and began moving toward their carriage.

  Temperance smiled. “I apologize for that, Mr. Barclay, and do know that Gilbert has already made me promise to never run into the ocean after a murderer again.”

  Mr. Barclay looked at Gilbert. “I would have thought you’d make her promise to never get into dangerous situations again.”

  “I tried, but Temperance, being Temperance, twisted the promise to one she knows she won’t break.”

  “A lady with Miss Temperance’s spirit will always find herself in some type of exciting situation,” Eugene said, sending Temperance a hint of a grin. He gestured to the knife he was brandishing. “Even though you proved yourself to be horrible with wielding a knife, ’cept of course when you hit Richard the Snake, and you’re not much better with a pistol, we may need to continue on with your defense lessons to better prepare you the next time you encounter someone of the murderous sort.”

  Temperance returned the grin as Gilbert released a snort.

  “Let us pray Temperance’s days of encountering murderous sorts are now firmly behind her, although continuing on with teaching her how to defend herself in a fight might not be a horrible idea,” Gilbert said, striding over the sand.

  “And it’s amusing to boot,” Eugene said, his grin widening.

  Before Temperance could respond, they reached their carriage. Gilbert settled her on the seat, then set about the business of getting her snugly wrapped in the blanket that Mr. Barclay handed him.

  “I’ll be right back,” Gilbert said, giving the blanket a last tuck. “I need to speak with Agent McParland, and then we’ll get on our way to Miss Snook’s school.”

  “Where I believe a nice plate of cakes and a few cups of hot chocolate are going to be in order,” Mr. Barclay added, settling himself on the seat across from her and accepting the blanket Gilbert had pulled from under the seat with a nod of appreciation.

  “He really is a most excellent gentleman,” Mr. Barclay said after Gilbert strode away.

  “He is indeed.”

  Mr. Barclay sat forward. “Because of that, you and I are going to have to put our heads together to figure out how best to convince him you’ve changed your mind about becoming his countess.”

  “I don’t recall mentioning to you that I’d changed my mind about that.”

  Mr. Barclay inclined his head. “You didn’t need to, dear. Having lived with Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel all these many years, and having recently been available to many of the young women attending Miss Snook’s school, I’ve become somewhat of an expert with understanding women and their many emotions.” He smiled. “Because of that expertise, I’m more than aware of the fact that you hold Mr. Cavendish in the highest esteem, and since I hold you in the highest esteem as well, although not in the same way you hold Mr. Cavendish, I’m going to see to it that you acquire the love of your life, and I’ll hear no argument about that from you, if you please.”

  Three hours later, Temperance was finally rid of the chill from her unexpected dip into the sea, Miss Henrietta having taken her firmly in hand the moment her foot stepped into Miss Snook’s school. She’d been practically tossed into a steaming hot tub, plied with hot chocolate while in that tub, then rubbed down with thick towels that had been warmed on a rack near the fire. She’d then been dressed in her warmest gown, had woolen stockings pulled up her legs by one of Miss Snook’s students, even though she’d tried to protest, saying she was perfectly capable of donning stockings all by herself. After she’d been fully clothed, she’d been led to a chair where Mrs. Davenport had insisted on toweling her hair dry before styling it. Thankfully, the styling had not been one of an intricate nature, and after Mrs. Davenport proclaimed she was done, Temperance had finally been released from her room. Pink-cheeked and with her hair arranged in a casual knot on top of her head, she had Miss Henrietta and Mrs. Davenport escort her to the library, quite as if her adventure might have caused her to forget the way.

  Glancing around the library where everyone had gathered to hear every snippet of news she had to tell about her dangerous day at the beach, she couldn’t help but smile as she looked at each person assembled there.

  Miss Henrietta was si
tting stiff as a poker in a chair next to the settee Temperance was now sitting on, with Mrs. Davenport in a chair right beside her. Mrs. Davenport was currently bent over a bustle she was creating, one that was incredibly large, but actually looked like a bustle one might find in a store.

  Florence, Gilbert’s mother, was sitting beside Temperance on the settee, holding Temperance’s hand and doing her best to avoid Temperance’s question of why she was at the school, or why she kept exchanging grins with Miss Henrietta and Mrs. Davenport. That pesky business was leaving Temperance with the distinct impression the ladies had gathered to do a touch of meddling but had been interrupted when she, Gilbert, Mr. Barclay, and Eugene arrived dripping wet at the school and promising to disclose all after everyone found dry clothing.

  Any disclosures had been put on hold, though, after Miss Henrietta realized her sister, Miss Mabel, was not at the school but at Rutherford & Company. She’d immediately sent off a note to the store to call her sister home, insisting all tales about the latest adventure wait until Mabel arrived, since Mabel would be most put out if she missed even a smidgen of the story.

  “Ah, Gilbert, there you are, dear, and looking much dryer than the last time I saw you,” Florence said, letting go of Temperance’s hand and rising to her feet as Gilbert strode into the room. She met him in the middle of the library, turning her cheek to accept the kiss Gilbert gave her.

  “Mr. Barclay lent me some clothing he found in his wardrobe,” Gilbert said with a rueful smile. “I’m afraid he’s a good deal thinner than I am, so I’m sure to be holding my breath for the foreseeable future in the hope I don’t split a seam.”

  Mrs. Davenport looked up from her bustle. “I’ve gotten very adept at fixing seams, my dear, so if you do split one, let me know.”

  Gilbert grinned. “While I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Davenport, I’m fairly sure if I do split a seam, what I’m wearing might be beyond repair. In that event, I’ll simply send off a note to my house, asking someone to fetch me my own trousers.”

  He turned his grin on Temperance. “You’re looking much better, and I see you’ve been supplied with the chocolate and cakes Mr. Barclay kept promising you on the ride here.”

  “The chocolate is delicious, but speaking of Mr. Barclay, where is he?” Temperance asked, her curiosity humming over what Mr. Barclay might have talked about with Gilbert when the two men went off to his room together.

  “He had an errand to run,” Gilbert said, walking over to join her on the settee. Taking her hand in his, he placed a quick kiss on it. “You really are looking much better, and I’m relieved to see some color back in your cheeks. You were incredibly pale after we got out of the ocean.”

  “October isn’t exactly the time of year one should go for a swim.”

  “Which brings us back to that promise I wanted you to give me,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “What promise was that, dear?” Florence asked, settling into a chair directly across from them.

  “He wants me to promise I’ll abandon perilous situations from this point forward,” Temperance said before Gilbert could answer.

  Florence nodded. “Which I hope you will promise him. Even though we’ve been told relatively little about what happened today, the thought of you and Gilbert being confronted by a murderer gives me heart palpitations. I would be much relieved to know you never intend to put yourself in such danger again.”

  “Everyone does realize that I didn’t intentionally place myself in a perilous situation today, don’t they?” Temperance asked. “I certainly couldn’t have known that Mr. Howland would take to disguising himself as a woman to avoid detection and decide the time was finally ripe for him to reveal himself to me down at the beach.”

  “A most excellent point,” Florence said with a smile. “But it isn’t exactly reassuring, because most people never encounter a disguised murderer. However, I suppose I can take a small amount of comfort in knowing that Gilbert was there with you and hope that he’ll always be around if disaster comes knocking on your door.”

  Gilbert settled back against the settee. “I wouldn’t take too much comfort in that, Mother. I’m not always able to intercede on Temperance’s behalf, especially when she does the unexpected, such as throw herself into the ocean after Mr. Howland, who’d managed to get away from me.”

  “I thought everyone would have waited for me to rush home before divulging any part of what I’m going to assume is a most riveting tale.”

  Looking up, Temperance found Miss Mabel marching her way across the library, her eyes bright with excitement. Following her was none other than Edwina Sinclair, her color high and her eyes filled with what almost looked to be a large dose of disgust. Flinging herself onto a fainting couch right next to where Miss Mabel had taken a seat, Edwina let out a most unladylike snort.

  “Do tell me that Miss Henrietta’s note was wrong and that you weren’t confronted by a madman dressed as a woman who held you at gunpoint” were the first words out of Edwina’s mouth.

  “Are you going to be overly distraught if I admit Miss Henrietta has the right measure of what happened to Gilbert and me today?” Temperance countered.

  Edwina released a sigh. “I wouldn’t say I’m overly distraught—more on the lines of resigned.”

  Temperance frowned. “Resigned about what?”

  “That I’m not cut out for the role of Pinkerton agent.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m constantly missing all the most dramatic moments, and this time I missed capturing the culprit because I was perusing the hat section over at Rutherford & Company.”

  “Were you on duty?” Temperance asked.

  “Well, no, but I don’t imagine there’s ever been another fledgling agent who can make the claim they missed out on an important capture because they couldn’t decide whether or not to purchase the navy hat trimmed with cream or the pink hat adorned with charming clusters of flowers.”

  Temperance fought a grin. “Which one did you purchase?”

  “I couldn’t decide between the two, so I bought both.” She smiled. “I then accepted Asher’s invitation to join him for a cup of tea in Rutherford & Company’s tearoom, which effectively had me missing all the excitement this afternoon offered.”

  Mrs. Davenport looked up from the bustle she was still assembling. “I have to imagine that tea with Asher was quite interesting and could also help explain why you’re doubting if you’re meant to pursue a profession with the Pinkerton agency.”

  Before Edwina could respond, Mercy suddenly came charging into the room, pulling a wagon filled with typewriters she apparently forgot to leave by the front door. Stopping in the very center of the library, she nodded to Miss Henrietta.

  “Did I miss much? Eugene was annoyingly closemouthed with many details. But that could have been because he was trying to make it back here after picking up me and the rest of the girls from Mr. Cavendish’s office in a timely fashion, one that had him taking all sorts of shortcuts through the city, which made for a hair-raising ride home.”

  “Temperance and Gilbert have yet to disclose more than a few snippets here and there, Mercy, so you’ve not missed much,” Miss Henrietta said as Mercy parked the wagon filled with typewriters by a chair, then sat down, her eyes alight with curiosity.

  “All we know for certain is that Mr. Howland, the attorney who handled Temperance’s inheritance, dressed himself in disguise and confronted Temperance on the beach,” Mrs. Davenport said.

  “Where he was then apprehended and will spend the rest of his life behind bars or confined to an asylum.”

  Everyone turned their attention to the door as Agent Samuel McParland strode into the room, his attention settling, unsurprisingly, on Edwina. Not stopping until he was standing directly in front of her, he inclined his head. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here. I thought you were off shopping today.”

  Edwina’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I was off shopping, but I learned of what transpired when Miss Hen
rietta sent a note to Miss Mabel, and then Miss Mabel shared the contents of that note with me.” She rose to her feet. “And while I know this might distress you, what with you being my most enthusiastic champion when it comes to my quest to become a Pinkerton, I must tell you that, what with my tendency to miss occasions that can only be described as significant to the one case I was assigned, I’m not cut out for this type of work.”

  To Temperance’s surprise, instead of looking even remotely distressed about that, Agent McParland released a hearty laugh. “Well, thank the good Lord for that.”

  Edwina immediately looked grumpy. “I wasn’t expecting amusement on your part, Agent McParland, which leaves me with no conclusion but to believe you found me to be a most dreadful agent-in-the-making and are now relieved that I’ll no longer be a burden to you and the agency.”

  Agent McParland leaned forward and took hold of Edwina’s hand, one she immediately began trying to tug free. “You were never a burden, nor were you the worst agent-in-the-making we’ve ever trained.”

  “I don’t believe you meant to phrase that exactly that way,” Gilbert muttered, which had Agent McParland nodding in agreement before he raised Edwina’s hand to his lips.

  “Gilbert is quite right about that, but my only excuse for being so clumsy with my words is that you’ve now done away with the only barrier that was standing between us, which means, I need to go speak with your father, so if you’ll excuse me . . .” He released Edwina’s hand and made for the door, stopping in his tracks when Mrs. Davenport suddenly abandoned her bustle and her chair and dashed to block his path.

  “You can’t simply leave now,” Mrs. Davenport said. “We have all sorts of questions—such as why you need to speak with Edwina’s father, and . . . why aren’t you concerned that she’s willing to abandon her desire to become a Pinkerton, and . . .”

  Mrs. Davenport stopped speaking when Agent McParland held up his hand. “I’m not concerned about Edwina abandoning her desire to become a Pinkerton because I encountered Asher outside his store on my way here. He, apparently under the belief I’d already spoken with Edwina, apologized for stealing Edwina away from the Pinkerton family, saying something to the effect that she’d finally, and with surprising enthusiasm, agreed to become the face of Rutherford & Company. I then concluded that meant she was abandoning her desire to become a Pinkerton since she can’t very well have her face all over the city and expect to remain inconspicuous, something a Pinkerton strives to maintain.”