To Write a Wrong

by Jen Turano

  “Put the cutlass down and get behind me,” he said through lips that barely moved.

  “I’m not allowing you to sacrifice yourself for me. You’re the client.”

  “I won’t be sacrificing myself because those are my dogs, Wolf and Hound.”

  “What in the world could have possessed you to acquire such terrifying creatures?”

  “Four attempts on my life springs to mind, but the dogs won’t attack me, although I can’t say with any certainty that they won’t go after you.”

  “Can’t you just call them off?”

  “I only acquired them this afternoon. I’m afraid their trainer hasn’t completed our lessons yet. The only thing I know about them is that they’ll protect me from harm at any cost.”

  “I’m not a threat to you.”

  “Your cutlass waving suggests otherwise, so please, stop being stubborn and lower your weapon.”

  Daphne shot a glance to the dogs and shuddered. “They’re growling.”

  “A less-than-encouraging sign.” Herman edged his way in front of Daphne, even though she tried to scoot around him again, right as Winston released a growl of his own, one that seemed to have a touch of a whine mixed in.

  Chaos immediately erupted.

  Wolf and Hound started howling as they surged into motion with Winston clearly in their sights. The poor pirate dog immediately turned tail and scampered across the room, launching himself over the fainting couch and disappearing from sight, the wolfhounds in hot pursuit. Their progress was interrupted when Daphne raced after them, waving her cutlass madly about.

  Lunging forward, Herman tried to block Daphne from the dogs, who were now snarling at her, but before he could get to her, Wolf—or perhaps it was Hound, he couldn’t really tell them apart—grabbed hold of her cutlass with his sharp teeth, shaking his head from side to side and ripping the cutlass from Daphne’s grasp. A second after the cutlass clattered to the ground, Daphne spun on her heel and raced toward the fainting couch Winston had disappeared behind.

  Unfortunately, before Herman could do more than grab Wolf, Hound sank its teeth into the hem of Daphne’s trousers. In an instant, Daphne went from trying to scramble over the fainting couch to slumping against it, her nerves evidently not up for an attack from a wolfhound since, clearly, she’d succumbed to a fit of the vapors and was now in the throes of a most spectacular swoon.

  CHAPTER

  Five

  “I’m now regretting stating so emphatically to Mr. Herman Henderson last night that my swooning days were becoming less frequent,” Daphne said, tossing the medicine ball Agent Cooper Clifton had chosen for one of their physical exertion sessions to Miss Ann Evans, who didn’t flinch as she caught the heavy ball. “Because I fainted dead away when I thought I was about to be devoured by his massive dogs, I was definitely premature with making such a statement.”

  Ann tossed the ball to her sister, Miss Elsy Evans, who stumbled a few feet backward and sent her sister a scowl, one Ann ignored as she tucked a flyaway strand of red hair behind her ear and grinned at Daphne. “I imagine it was embarrassing for you, swooning like you did. But on a brighter note, you must have found it incredibly romantic that not only did Mr. Henderson get you out of your swoon by plying you with your smelling salts, he then carried you back here to the boardinghouse. Why, if a gentleman like Mr. Henderson ever carried me around, I’d be hard-pressed not to descend into a swoon as well.”

  “I wasn’t feeling the least bit swoony when he was carrying me, Ann, more along the lines of mortified. Mr. Henderson was a potential client, not a suitor,” Daphne argued. “Besides, he only insisted on carrying me because his dogs were responsible for my swoon in the first place. He felt he was to blame for that fiasco because he couldn’t get them to abandon their pursuit of me and Winston.” She shook her head. “Poor Winston is now refusing to leave the house. Last I saw of him, he was hiding underneath a table in the kitchen, looking pathetic.”

  “Be that as it may,” Ann argued back, “Mr. Henderson is undoubtedly the most handsome potential client we’ve seen since we’ve opened our doors, as well as being the most chivalrous, no matter that you feel his actions were driven by a sense of guilt.”

  “He’s the first male client we’ve seen, so of course he’s the most handsome one, but I believe you’re missing a key point here. His dogs almost ate me.”

  Ann gave a wave of a muddy hand. “From what Mr. Henderson said after he gently set you down on the sofa in the parlor, and then tucked a blanket around you, he was hopeful his dogs were merely trying to intimidate you, not eat you.”

  “I still don’t understand how those dogs got out of the carriage and into the agency in the first place,” Miss Judith Donovan said, catching the ball Elsy tossed to her before she heaved the medicine ball toward Ann, who didn’t bother to catch it because she took that moment to move closer to Daphne. The ball whizzed past where she’d recently been standing, landing with a splat in a large puddle left over from the storm the night before, spraying everyone with mud in the process.

  Daphne took off spectacles now dotted with brown specks, wiped them with the part of her sleeve not drenched with muddy water, then returned them to her face. “Mr. Henderson thinks he might not have latched the door to his carriage securely, which allowed the dogs to sneak out, evading the notice of Mr. Henderson’s coachman. He also believes he might not have completely shut the agency door after he entered. It certainly doesn’t speak well of my competency as an inquiry agent that I never thought to double-check the door after I agreed to speak with Mr. Henderson about his case.”

  Ann settled a knowing look on Daphne. “It’s telling, you agreeing to speak with him about his case when the agency was closed.”

  “The only thing telling about it is that I couldn’t resist the lure of an attempted murder case, one that could very well cement our burgeoning reputation as a credible agency that can compete with all the other private investigation agencies in the city.” Daphne blew out a breath. “With that said, it’s highly unlikely we’ll ever see Mr. Henderson again. No one in their right mind would want to hire an agency where one of the agents fainted over an unexpected circumstance, even if said agent had an excellent reason to do so.”

  “Ladies,” Agent Clifton growled, striding up to join them, looking anything but pleased as his gaze settled on the medicine ball still lying in the puddle, “if you’ve neglected to remember, we’re outside on this chilly March morning not to share snippets of gossip but to attempt to increase your strength. You’re hardly going to do that if the only muscle any of you seem to be using is your mouth.”

  Ann frowned. “Is a mouth actually considered a muscle?”

  Agent Clifton merely sent Ann a quirk of a brow before he retrieved the medicine ball and then, without a by-your-leave, threw it Daphne’s way. It was sheer luck she managed to grab hold of the slippery thing, although the force of the ball whacking into her did have her wobbling around as she tried to maintain her hold on it.

  “Allow me to remind you of the rules of this particular endeavor,” Agent Clifton continued. “You’re supposed to toss the ball as quickly as you can from one person to the next because this is meant to be a vigorous exercise. By overexerting yourself, you’ll begin building up your upper-body and lower-body strength, but the vigor only occurs if the momentum is kept up.”

  “You do realize it’s not yet eight in the morning, don’t you, as well as being a Saturday—a day many young ladies take to sleep in?” Daphne asked before she hefted the ball in Agent Clifton’s direction, refusing a sigh when it plummeted two feet in front of him, splattering everyone with mud once again. “I don’t believe my ability to summon up any vigor begins until afternoon.”

  “I’m sure that’ll change after another month or so of participating in my physical exertion regime,” Agent Clifton returned.

  “We’ve been at these sessions for over three months as it is,” Daphne said, swiping a muddy hand over her face. “S
urely you don’t expect us to continue on with them for another month, do you?”

  “Of course not. I expect you to continue enjoying vigorous exercise for as long as each of you continues to be an inquiry agent. You never know when you’ll be in a situation where physical stamina is all that stands between you and certain death, which means all of you need to embrace more activity on a daily basis.”

  “But couldn’t we do that embracing after lunch?” Daphne asked, which earned her a roll of the eyes from Agent Clifton before he retrieved the ball again and tucked it under his arm as if it weighed nothing at all. “Shall we move on to the rope station?”

  A chorus of groans met that question because the rope station was the least favorite of every lady involved with the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency, save Eunice, who flatly refused to participate in the exertion activities at all. Given that Eunice was a somewhat frightening lady, Agent Clifton hadn’t argued with her, which had left Daphne considering adopting a frightening attitude of her own, if only to get out of an activity she abhorred.

  As Ann, Elsy, and Judith trudged over to the rope station, which was actually just a long length of rope tied to a branch of the tallest tree in the back courtyard of the boardinghouse, Daphne fell into step beside Agent Clifton, who was watching her in a very considering fashion.

  She swiped at some mud that was dribbling off her face. “I’m being unreasonably churlish with you this morning, aren’t I?”

  “You’re definitely not being cheerful.”

  She released a sigh. “And I beg your pardon for that, Agent Clifton. I didn’t sleep well last night, but my lack of sleep is not a good excuse for abusing you with my ill humor.”

  “Perhaps your mood would improve if you’d abandon the Agent Clifton business. Such formality is unnecessary since we spend so much time in each other’s company. You must call me Cooper.”

  “I believe that will improve my mood, although . . .” She caught his eye. “You should consider that a lack of formality may result in many of us balking more vocally at some of your somewhat unreasonable demands, such as scaling a tree before the sun has fully risen.”

  “I wasn’t going to offer the courtesy of my given name to all the ladies.”

  Daphne stopped in her tracks. “Then I’ll not be able to accept your offer because, if you’ve forgotten, all of the ladies are inquiry agents who look at everything with an eye for intrigue. As such, they’ll see me using your given name as an indication that our relationship has changed.”

  Cooper’s eyes widened. “Surely you’re not suggesting that if we address each other informally that others will take that to mean we’re, er, romantically involved?”

  “That’s exactly what they’ll think.”

  “But romance has never entered my mind concerning you.”

  “And I now find my mood beginning to take a turn for the dismal again.”

  He winced. “Forgive me, Daphne. That didn’t come out well, but . . . you’re not romantically interested in me, are you?”

  “Will you be disappointed to learn that I think of you as my fourth brother—and an often-irritating fourth brother at that?”

  Cooper took off the cap he was wearing, ran a hand over his short blond hair, and grinned. “Thank goodness for that because, for a second there, I thought I’d insulted you. And I’m not disappointed in the least about your thinking of me as a brother. I think of you as my third sister, although you’re not nearly as annoying as my actual sisters are.”

  “I didn’t know you had sisters.”

  “I have two, and they’re constantly drawing up lists of ladies they believe I should marry. Then they get annoyed with me when I don’t give their lists what they believe is proper consideration.”

  “You don’t care for the ladies on those lists?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure many of the ladies are lovely, but I’m perfectly capable of finding a lady on my own, although the demands of my job have left me with little time to devote to courting any lady.” Cooper’s gaze darted to where Ann, Elsy, and Judith were now standing by the rope station, regarding the rope dangling from the tree rather forlornly. His gaze lingered on Ann before he returned his attention to Daphne. “Perhaps you’re right, though, and I should suggest that all the ladies at the agency address me by my given name. That would alleviate the chance of anyone concluding you and I share anything other than a friendly type of affection for each other.”

  Daphne glanced at Ann, who’d turned and was giving Cooper a thorough perusal, although Ann abruptly spun around and returned her attention to the rope when she caught Daphne watching her.

  Daphne smiled. “We certainly shouldn’t allow any of my fellow agents to think we’re romantically involved, not when that might put a damper on potential possibilities I never considered.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  She gave his arm a bit of a swat. “Come now, Cooper, you can’t tell me that a few of the ladies here haven’t attracted your attention. And if that is the case, your dilemma of never having time to devote to ladies won’t be an issue.” She tilted her head. “Tell me this, though. Have you been torturing us with these physical exertion lessons because it’s allowed you to spend your mornings in the company of ladies you may find . . . intriguing?”

  Cooper raked a hand through his hair again. “Honestly, Daphne, maybe I should consider holding these lessons later in the day because clearly your mind is a scary place to visit first thing in the morning.” He gestured to where Judith was now trying to scale the rope, the fabric of her skirt getting twisted around her legs before she made it three feet off the ground. “But to answer your question, no, intriguing ladies of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency are not why I’ve been insisting on the physical exertion lessons.”

  “Then what is behind these lessons you know we loathe?”

  Cooper smiled and nodded to where Judith had gotten her legs untangled and was once again hauling herself up the rope. “I meant what I said earlier. I don’t want your lack of physical stamina to ever be responsible for any of you coming to a bad end. I’ve become fond of everyone at the agency—and not in a romantic fashion, before you ask. Seeing all of you make progress with becoming more physically fit is remarkably satisfying to me.”

  “And here I’ve been under the mistaken belief that you’re a less-than-sentimental man, but underneath that gruff exterior, you have a heart that’s soft as a . . . well, nothing springs to mind except a baby’s behind.” Daphne grinned. “That analogy, though, might only be because I recently used it when I was reciting poetry to Mr. Herman Henderson yesterday.”

  Cooper returned the grin. “Ah, yes, your poetry.” He shook his head. “From what I’ve gathered through listening to your conversations with your fellow agents, you’ve been experiencing trouble with your writing of late. That had me wondering if the reason behind your being so keen to take on Mr. Henderson’s case—before you swooned in front of him, of course—was because you thought it would provide you with a much-needed spark to get your writing back on track.”

  “Will you think poorly of me if I admit you’re spot-on about that?”

  Cooper’s grin dimmed. “Did it never cross your mind that you’d be placing yourself in direct danger by volunteering to go undercover in an attempted murder investigation? Danger that you, of all people, are ill-equipped to handle?”

  “The danger involved didn’t really cross my mind until I repaired to my room last night after Mr. Henderson took his leave. I believe it was after midnight when I decided I might have been a little rash to volunteer to take on an undercover position. However, around one in the morning, a different plan came to mind, one where the agency would send not only me but another agent or two to assist with collecting information at Mr. Henderson’s house party. That plan, sadly, will never amount to anything because Mr. Henderson is probably paying a call on the Pinkertons to have your agency take on his case.”

  “I’m not plannin
g to call on the Pinkertons, unless, of course, the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency decides my case is not one the agency wants to represent.”

  Daphne turned around, her gaze settling on none other than Mr. Herman Henderson. To her concern, a mere five seconds after she caught sight of the man, her pulse began galloping madly through her veins.

  It was quite unlike her pulse to gallop simply because a handsome gentleman was in her vicinity, even one who was incredibly well turned out in a suit of charcoal gray. However, there was no denying that there was something about Herman Henderson that, whether she cared to admit it or not, appealed to her. Whether that appeal was caused by his handsome face, or the fact that he had carried her all the way down Bleecker Street the night before, or that they shared a common interest in writing mysteries was definitely up for debate.

  Realizing she was all but gawking at the man, Daphne summoned up a smile. “Mr. Henderson. I wasn’t expecting to see you again today. Or, frankly, ever.”

  “I don’t know why you wouldn’t expect to see me again,” Herman countered. “You and I never finished our discussion last night regarding my case. Since someone is still intent on seeking my demise, I would have thought you’d know I’d be back to see you bright and early this morning, even with it being a Saturday, and even with your agency not open on the weekends.” He held out his hand to Cooper. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mr. Herman Henderson.”

  Cooper stepped forward and shook Herman’s hand. “Agent Cooper Clifton of the Pinkerton Agency.”

  “Ah yes. Miss Beekman told me last night that your agency and hers often collaborate together,” Herman said. “May I assume she mentioned something to you about the concerns I brought to her last night?”

  “She said you’re worried someone wants to murder you.”

  “That does seem to be the case, although I didn’t run into any difficulties last night after I saw Miss Beekman home.”