Moving quickly through the dark streets, they made it to a stop illuminated by a pool of light from the gas street lamp. The clanging of the trolley car rumbling down the tracks was a welcome interruption. After boarding the wooden car, Alec watched her, sitting next to him nervously smoothing her gown, and was struck by the bravery of his companion. Irritation that that same bravery had resulted in their being kidnapped rushed through him.
“Now that we appear to be out of imminent danger, would you care to explain to me, Miss Ellsworth, how I went from being interviewed and photographed by you for a social column to being coshed in the head and tied up on a ship?”
She looked around anxiously, and he knew she was deciding whether to lie to him. “I have no idea why those men grabbed us.” He watched her failed attempt at sincerity and knew she would bolt like a cornered rabbit. Standing, she turned. “I’m sorry your evening was ruined, and I hope you won’t try to find those men.”
He reached for her, but she hurried off the trolley.
Watching the young woman rush away, he resisted the urge to follow her. This was her city—he was new to San Francisco—and he knew she wasn’t in any danger. The kidnapping was a warning. Their escape had been too easy. He sat back in the seat, contemplating his most unusual evening as the trolley continued down the track.
The conductor announced the Palace Hotel, pulling Alec from his musings. He walked through the portal into the carriage entrance, and the Grand Court, admiring the many stories and detailed architecture rising above, and strode into the lobby. The hotel was the most opulent he had seen since leaving Europe. It had been a year since he and Hawke had started on this adventure. Boyhood friends, they had gone to the same schools and served in the British Army together, and were both expected to step up and run their Scottish estates when they inherited. They were in San Francisco overseeing a shipping company they had recently invested in. This trip to America had been eye opening to say the least. He had met people and learned things about life and himself. An experience he would have never had back in Scotland.
“Alec, where have you been?”
Hawke Pryce, Viscount Stoneham, his friend and business partner, hailed him from the upstairs saloon. Alec groaned. All he wanted to do was clean up and try to sort out what had happened. Sighing in resignation, Alec headed up the grand staircase, still puzzling over Miss Ellsworth and her situation.
“Buy me a drink and tell me why you aren’t with your lovely wife.” Alec stepped up to the bar, propping his foot on the brass rail and leaning his elbows on the polished mahogany surface.
Hawke had met Kara Jonston, the daughter of a ranch owner, last April when they had gone to the New Mexico Territory to look over a ranch Hawke had invested in. The ranch belonged to Kara’s father, and during their time there, Hawke had fallen in love with and married Kara. They were heading back to Scotland with Alec after concluding business in San Francisco.
“Kara sent me down here to try and find you.” Hawke sipped his whiskey. “She was worried when you disappeared from the party. What happened?”
“You remember the society reporter we met shortly after we arrived? Miss Adeline Ellsworth?”
“The attractive redhead with a camera, correct. That was fast work even for you.” Hawke laughed.
Alec shook his head. “Not quite. This evening I noticed her acting oddly, so I approached her.” He remembered the panicked look in her eyes when he walked up to her. The way she kept looking around as if hoping to remain unnoticed. Her dark red hair and flawless skin made that impossible as far as he was concerned. He escorted her into a small room off the foyer to see if she needed some assistance.
“She was telling me in no uncertain terms to stay out of her business, when two thugs entered the room and nabbed us. I would have fought back, but one pulled a pistol.” Anger at being unable to best the men flared again as Alec continued his story. “Miss Ellsworth had a notebook with her, and her eavesdropping seems to be what angered someone. I got in a few good hits when they dragged us into a carriage, but then I was knocked out. I woke up on a ship tied to a chair and Miss Ellsworth.”
“How did you get out?” Hawke’s brows drew together as he threw back his drink and signaled the bartender for another round.
“Ah, now that was not such an unpleasant undertaking.” Alec smiled and shared the tale of Miss Ellsworth’s trip through the porthole.
“I swear, Alec.” Hawke laughed. “You are the only man I know who can be in danger and still get a lady out of her clothes.”
Alec chuckled. The sight of Miss Ellsworth’s barely clothed backside going through the porthole had been a welcome distraction to the issue at hand. “While that was a highlight of a rather strange evening,” he sipped on a fresh drink, “I want to know why we were taken.” His fingers tightened in anger; the cut crystal pattern dug into his palm. “ I don’t take kindly to being manhandled.”
Chapter 3
Linnie walked into the offices of the San Francisco Call newspaper and headed to her desk. She had started working as a photographer and social columnist two years earlier, eager to follow in the footsteps of another Adeline: Miss Adeline E. Knapp, founder of the paper’s Women’s Department. She hoped to one day write front-page stories of social importance, which was partially why she had attended the dinner party at Charles Vonn’s mansion. Sitting, she fiddled with photographs on glass plates, not really seeing what she was looking at.
“Linnie, did you hear?” Samuel, the mailroom clerk, interrupted her contemplations. She knew he aspired to be a reporter someday. “Mr. Spreckles announced that when the new building is ready, each department would have its own floor and its own telephone. I hope I won’t still be in the mailroom.” He winked and hurried off with his mail cart to spread the word around the building.
Claus Spreckles, an area real estate magnate and oilman, had purchased the Daily Morning Call, renamed it the San Francisco Call, and was relocating the paper from its two-story frame building to a nineteen-story skyscraper downtown. The whole company was abuzz with the change. They were going to be a big paper like the San Francisco Examiner, and Linnie wanted to be one of its star reporters.
She was as excited about the move as everyone else, but she needed to figure out what had happened last night and what to do about the notes she’d lost when those hooligans had seized her and Lord MacCairn. Her notebook was full of times and dates where she had observed Vonn and others, such as the chief of police, union organizers, and other people she hadn’t yet identified. Recreating that information was nearly impossible. Some she had already included in story outlines, but it was still a blow to her investigation.
Groaning, she leaned her elbows on her desk and buried her face in her palms. Lord MacCairn! What he must think. He watched as I went through the porthole, my backside exposed. Cad! She couldn’t stop the memory from playing over and over in her mind. The more she tried to stop it, the angrier she got … and the more embarrassed. Heat raced through her body, burning her cheeks and making the back of her neck tingle.
She had interviewed Lord MacCairn, his partner, Lord Pryce, and Lord Pryce’s wife, the week prior. As the society reporter, she knew there was a chance they would meet again, but never had she imagined this! He did not strike her as the type of man to let the affront go. How was she going to keep him from interfering? From asking too many questions, or worse—going to Mr. Spreckles and telling him one of his reporters was the reason he was assaulted!
“Ellsworth. Do you have that piece on the visiting Englishmen ready?” The booming voice of her editor, John Weathersby, bounced off the walls.
“Almost, sir. I just need to choose the best picture for print, and it can go to the typesetters.”
“Well hustle up, girl. I have an edition to put out.”
Linnie looked down at the photographs and decided on one with the two men standing behind Lady Stoneham. She put it with her story and handed them to a runner.
She pulled o
ut a piece of paper and started writing down what happened last night. She didn’t want to forget any details. Two years ago, she’d started investigating the seedier side of San Francisco after a series of murders occurred in the Tenderloin District. She had always known about prostitution and other evils, but it was brought to her doorstep in the most personal way—with the murder of her cousin, Tommy, a police inspector.
When he was killed on the job, she had tried to get Mr. Weathersby to let her investigate, but had been soundly denied. The police chief wouldn’t let her see any of the investigation documents. Since then, she’d been tracking down the story on her own. If Mr. Weathersby found out, she’d probably lose her job. While he didn’t object to women in journalism in theory, he adamantly refused to let his female reporters work on any story having to do with “indelicate” subjects that might put them in harm’s way.
Her research had led her to Charles Vonn, one of the most powerful men in San Francisco. There wasn’t any aspect of business he didn’t have a hand in. He was also rumored to be the silent power behind the mayor, telling him what policies to enact and when to turn a blind eye. No one ever saw him with the mayor, and he continued to represent himself as a simple businessman, but Linnie knew better. She had gone to the dinner last night to try and catch the two men together, but Lord MacCairn had interfered. One of Charles Vonn’s people had whispered something to the mayor’s assistant, and moments later, Linnie watched the two men leaving through different doors. She was sure they were going to meet somewhere and had started following. That’s when Lord MacCairn had come up and dragged her into the library.
The rest of the night—being tied to that man, having to undress in front of him, and avoiding his questions—she didn’t want to think about right now. Looking up at the clock, she knew she would find Vonn at his favorite restaurant. Maybe she could get close enough to pick up some information. Grabbing her jacket, she shoved her notebook and pencil in the pocket, got her purse and left.
Chapter 4
What is she up to now? Alec wondered as he walked past a restaurant on Market Street and noticed Miss Ellsworth attempting to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. He was on his way back from meeting with Hawke at their shipping company, enjoying the warm, dry weather and the sights of this young, vibrant city. Curiosity sent him straight to her table.
“I suggest, Miss Ellsworth, if you don’t want to be seen, you might sit in the back corner of a restaurant, not at the front window.”
Surprise followed by consternation wrinkled her lovely brow, and Alec watched a flush of anger creep up her long, slender throat, painting her cheeks scarlet.
“And what makes you think, Lord MacCairn, that I am trying in any way to hide?”
“Well it could be the way your menu is blocking you from the rest of the restaurant, or,” he tried not to laugh, “the rather obvious way you were peeking around the edges and then darting your head back in. Not unlike those prairie dogs I saw in New Mexico, forever bobbing up and down in their holes. May I?” He didn’t wait for her answer and took the seat nearest her.
“I was—” she stammered. Setting her menu down on the table, she looked him square in the eyes. He swore there were flames in those mossy green depths. “I was not bobbing, and,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “I would appreciate it if you would be so good as to stay out of my business and out of my sight. You’ve already cost me a nasty bump on the head. I can’t have you costing me my job.”
“Oh, you’re working? My apologies. Exactly what is a society reporter working on in a restaurant in the middle of the day? I don’t see any fashionable women talking about the latest soirees. Or are you in your Nellie Bly disguise?”
Glaring at him, she was preparing to speak, when something caught her attention. Looking around, Alec noticed several men entering from the private dining rooms in the rear. Turning back, he saw a gleam in her eyes as she watched them make their way to the coat check and leave. Who were these men? He knew it wasn’t the fashionable cut of their clothes that had garnered her attention, because they were pedestrian in their dress. He had a hunch this was about last night and the thing that got them both kidnapped. Something that might get her hurt. He wasn’t sure why that should bother him, but it did, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
“I recognize Mr. Vonn from the other night,” he said. “Is he the one who captures your interest?” A quick flash of panic showed in her eyes like a small bird trapped in a net. Understanding dawned on him. “It was Vonn, wasn’t it? He’s the one that had us taken.” Anger rushed through him. He reached over and grasped her hand, causing her to start.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Lord MacCairn. Please let me go.” She jerked on her hand, trying to pull free.
“I want to know why he took us, or I will confront the man myself.” He kept a firm grip, keeping her from bolting. He watched the panic in her eyes, and his anger subsided. Her skin felt soft under his palm. Unsettling warmth burned low in his abdomen. “Might I suggest you never play poker, Miss Ellsworth.” He smiled, enjoying the contact and how it unsettled her. “You are a terrible liar.”
He laughed as she fluffed like a bird settling its feathers; his own fierce little kestrel. The warmth in his gut burned more fiercely. As she continued to glare at him, the laughter died on his lips. He looked at his companion and wondered when in their brief acquaintance she had started getting under his skin. She was not the type of woman he was normally attracted to. She was taller than most, and from their short time together he knew she was stubborn and argumentative. He had always preferred his women soft and accommodating. Looking at her, he couldn’t deny the fascination.
“Lord MacCairn … Lord MacCairn. Could you please let go of me? People are starting to look.”
“Let them look. I quite enjoy holding your hand.” He was surprised at how much. “Perhaps if you quit fidgeting about, people would stop staring and attend their meal.” Looking into her eyes, he continued, “And don’t you think we can drop the formality? After all,” he smiled, knowing his next words would incite her redheaded temper, “I have seen you in your underthings.” A raft of emotions crossed her face, finally landing on fury. Her anger was magnificent to see. The warmth burst into a fire.
“Oh, oh … How dare you!” She stood, jerking her hand from his, and stormed out of the building.
Dropping some money on the table, he hurried after her.
Chapter 5
Linnie walked rapidly down the street, heading toward her office. Her mind was a swirl.
What am I going to do? Should I tell Lord MacCairn about Vonn? Should I get his help? After all, they grabbed him, knocked him out, and held him, too. He might want to—No, that’s silly. He’s a rich nobleman, and he won’t be in town long enough for it to impact him further. He wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty. What do my problems have to do with him? Maybe I should give up trying to prove Vonn is behind Tommy’s death.
Thoughts danced and darted, but no answers appeared.
Someone clutched her arm. Linnie stifled a scream and swung around, ready to wield her purse in defense—but she stopped when she saw it was Lord MacCairn.
“Don’t ever do that again. You scared the life out of me!” Linnie was breathless, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it could be seen through her clothes.
“My apologies, I thought you heard me calling your name.” Linnie calmed, seeing he was upset that he had frightened her. “You really should be more aware of your surroundings, Miss Ellsworth. Considering what occurred the other night, I would think you would be more cautious.”
“You are correct, Lord MacCairn.”
“I believe you owe me an explanation, Miss Ellsworth, and I will have it.” He maintained his hold on her arm as they approached the corner. A trolley approached as he guided her to the stop.
“I do, and I will explain, but right now,” Linnie judged the distance of the approaching car, “I must get back to my job
. Unlike some people,” she smiled, hoping to disarm him, “I must work to earn my money. Good day, Lord MacCairn.” Linnie pulled from his grasp and deftly dodged in front of the trolley and headed down Geary Street.
She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see him following. She felt a small pang of disappointment. If he was so easily put off, then maybe he wasn’t the man to help. From her research, he certainly seemed like a strong, capable person. She felt a tingle in her stomach, thinking about how tall he was, how broad through the shoulders, and the devilish humor she saw in his chambray blue eyes. He was extremely attractive. Warmth flooded through her. And that look he gave me. I felt naked. She shivered as unbidden desire coursed through her. A feeling she hadn’t had in years, not since …
The clang of the trolley bell pulled her back to her surroundings. She stepped back onto the sidewalk.
“Get it together, girl,” she muttered. He’s right about one thing: I can’t get distracted. I owe it to Tommy.
Entering the lobby of her office, Linnie turned toward the telephone booth, deciding it was time to get a second opinion.
Lifting the handle, she tapped the cradle and waited for the operator to relay the number, and waited.
“Hello?”
“Pru? It’s Linnie.”
“Linnie! Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you since last week. I thought you were coming over for tea.”
Prudence Jones had been Linnie’s best friend throughout their school years. Both had grown up in the middle-class neighborhoods of San Francisco; Prudence’s father a lawyer, Linnie’s a merchant ship captain. Linnie had been Pru’s maid of honor when she’d married.
“I know, Pru. I’m sorry I missed it, but I was wondering if you’re busy this evening? Something has happened, and I need to talk to you.”
The Heart You Need Page 2