Deception at Sable Hill

by Shelley Gray

  “We?”

  “Detective Howard and I. We’ve been partners for about a year now.”

  “Do you ever get scared?”

  He swallowed a spoonful of soup, taking the time to think about it. “Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve gotten into some sticky situations, especially back when I was on a beat.”

  “Beat?”

  “An area I used to have to patrol. Now I follow cases, but back when I started, I would patrol assigned areas and attempt to keep the peace.” Remembering some of those hours, the ones when he felt like there was only him against the rest of the world—and all of it lasting far too long—he grimaced. “I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so much before or since.”

  “I am glad you survived.”

  “Me too.” He smiled at her as they concentrated on their soups. Then, when they were about done, he asked a question of his own. “What did you think about Hope House?”

  “I liked it.” She paused, obviously wanting to expound on her thoughts.

  “Was it what you imagined?”

  “Yes and no.” She flushed. “I’m sorry. I have so many thoughts running through my head, I seem to be having a difficult time organizing them.”

  “Take your time.”

  Something new entered her gaze. It was filled with surprise and, perhaps, gratification? “You really are interested in my thoughts and impressions, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. Since he was in no hurry to leave her, he leaned back and watched her. Patiently eager to see what else she was going to say.

  “First of all, I didn’t imagine the house would be so small.”

  “You found it small? I would have thought it would have seemed large to anyone.”

  “I didn’t mean it looked like a small home. I meant that I had assumed it would look more like a dormitory or a boarding house. Something far more functional and sterile, less homey. Instead, Hope House looked like a home. I was so glad about that.”

  “I’ve been glad the residents are living in a place that feels like a home. It is pretty worn down around the edges and could use more elbow grease and tender loving care. But overall, it is a good resting place for those women and children. I’ve always been fond of it.”

  “I’m glad you told me about it. Already I am looking forward to my next visit.” Smiling, she said, “I’ve already decided to go through all of our linen closets. I’m sure we have plenty of extra sheets, quilts, and blankets to spare at home.”

  She sounded so eager, so ready to fix all those women and children with kindness, he felt that he should give her a small word of warning. “Don’t feel obligated to give more than you are able.”

  “I simply want to do something. I want to buy fabric and ask some of our maids to help me fashion some warm dresses for the little girls.” Quickly she added, “Maybe the cook could make a few batches of cookies too. I’d love to bring them a treat.”

  Sean thought her enthusiasm was adorable. This was the first time he had seen her so animated. She looked younger, more vibrant, more approachable.

  However, he also knew that seeking to help those residents could be terribly difficult. They didn’t trust others easily, and might even be suspicious of Eloisa if she showed up with too much at one time. “The women and children didn’t arrive there overnight, Miss Carstairs. It takes time for them to get on their feet. You mustn’t expect that some warm blankets or a new dress will make much of a difference.”

  She blinked. “I know that.”

  “I’m relieved to hear you say so.” He also didn’t quite believe her. Either she was under the misconception that change could be brought about quickly, or she hadn’t quite grasped that the people she would be helping were needy on so many different levels.

  Her naïveté worried him, but it also made him appreciate her tender heart. “What do you hope to accomplish at Hope House?”

  “I’m not really sure.” Looking stung, she folded and refolded the napkin in her lap. “You’re probably going to tease me, but I don’t expect to do too much.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. “I’m just me. I don’t have much experience with any of the things they are struggling with. All I do know is that I am hoping to do something.” She shrugged. “Whatever I can. Maybe I can work with some of the children there. I met the sweetest little girl named Gretta. She was just sitting by herself. My heart went out to her.”

  Thinking of the many children living on the streets, most never having the shelter Gretta was now enjoying, Sean was struck yet again by Eloisa’s naïveté. “Please, do be careful. You don’t want to form attachments.”

  “And why is that?”

  She looked so confused, so completely at a loss to understand what he meant, that he hastily amended his words into something less blunt. “Miss Carstairs, I am worried that a child like Gretta might misunderstand your motives. She, uh, might imagine that you want to get to know her.”

  “And what is wrong with that?”

  “I can’t imagine that a lady like you . . . would really have time for that.” As soon as he heard his words, he ached to snatch them back. He sounded unforgivably full of himself. Superior. It was the last way he wanted to come across.

  But, to his amazement, Eloisa didn’t seem hurt. Instead, she took his words seriously. Her head tilted to one side. “I think I do have time for her. If one day Gretta wants to spend any time with me, I can’t imagine anything that would make me happier. Definitely not any other pressing engagement.” She paused. “Why do you look so surprised? What else do you think I do?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess.” All the things he was going to mention sounded rather demeaning.

  “But you have, Lieutenant Ryan. How do you think I fill my days? By simply going to parties?”

  “Yes.” He held up a hand before she could find exception with his reply. “Miss Carstairs, please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you attending parties. I am not judging.” Furthermore, he secretly liked the idea of a lady like her never being subjected to the filth and danger he saw on a daily basis.

  “Forgive me, but you do sound judgmental.”

  “If I do, it wasn’t my intention. I’m only basing my thoughts on my experience with some other ladies of your social circle, which, of course, would be the barest of acquaintances in the line of duty. I guess that’s what I usually think of young ladies of your class doing.”

  “Some days I feel that all I ever do is shop, primp, try to better myself, and attend social gatherings.” She grimaced. “Sometimes it feels like that’s all I do. But there’s a reason for it, you see. My mother . . . those parties are some of the only acceptable ways for me to meet men.” She paused. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.” She wouldn’t mention again that she knew she could never marry.

  “I don’t. Not at all.” And to his surprise, he meant it. “I can’t imagine having that kind of pressure on my shoulders. But I must tell you that I don’t wish you were denied some light moments. I think you should try to grasp all the happiness you can. You’ve had enough pain, I think.”

  “Yes, but I’m not alone in feeling pain. No one is immune to that.” Carefully, she dabbed at the corners of her lips with the corner of a napkin, then placed it on the plate under her bowl. “This was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” When he saw her reach for her reticule, he shook his head. “This is my treat.”

  “I couldn’t let you.”

  Pride, his old, true friend, caused his tone to turn hard. “Even cops like me can afford to buy a girl a bowl of soup.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Of course.”

  He’d embarrassed her. Injecting a note of humor in his voice, he teased, “Besides, I’ll have you know that Mrs. Kirkpatrick never charges me full price for my meals—that is, when I convince her to let me pay for them at all.”

  When her chin lifted, he could have sworn there was something ne
w and fresh in her eyes. Was she, too, feeling a new awareness rise between them? He wasn’t sure.

  Getting to his feet, he said, “I’ll be right back.” He turned and went to settle the bill with Mrs. Kirkpatrick, who had been unabashedly watching them from a spot near the back counter.

  CHAPTER 12

  Katie had just finished doing some shopping with her sister June and was heading toward the train when she saw him up ahead. Owen.

  No, she cautioned herself. Not Owen. Detective Howard. She needed to stop thinking of him in such a familiar way. Especially since there was nothing between them.

  Nothing but a shared concern about her brother.

  She paused, wondering what to do. Should she simply walk by, pretending she didn’t see him? Avert her eyes? Simply smile?

  Stop and say hello?

  It was all so confusing. She not only didn’t have any experience with men, but she didn’t have any experience at all with gentlemen like him.

  In the end, he took the dilemma out of her hands. “Miss Ryan?”

  She turned her head to face him, and attempted to appear surprised. “Oh, hello, Detective Howard. It’s so nice to see you again.”

  By his expression, it was obvious her ruse had failed miserably. “I am relieved to hear you say that. For a moment I feared you were going to ignore me completely.”

  What could she say to that? Nothing . . . nothing came to mind. “I trust you are having a good day?”

  “I would, if I wasn’t currently wondering if you are walking alone. Yet again.”

  “I was just out doing a little shopping with one of my sisters and her husband. June is recently married and needed a new hat.”

  “They didn’t see the need to make sure you returned home safely?”

  “They knew it was a mere block from where we parted to the train station.”

  Something crossed his features before they smoothed again. Before she knew it, he had his hand curved around her upper arm. “Please, allow me to escort you.”

  “That’s unnecessary.”

  “It would be my honor,” he parried as he guided her through the throng of people.

  A flicker of unease rushed through her. His comment felt odd, artificial. Combined with the grip on her arm, she was beginning to wish she’d taken up June’s husband’s offer to escort her down the street. “There’s no need to grip me so securely. Please, release me.”

  “Not yet.”

  Though they were darting through the maze of people, his hand on her arm linking them together, she allowed herself to gaze at him again. “I don’t understand why you are treating me this way.”

  “No? Well, let me make this easier to understand. The last time we saw each other, you entered the police station alone, barely spoke with me, then ran out of the lobby when I asked to escort you safely home. Then, while you apparently traipsed down the streets without a care in the world, I, on the other hand, was left to stand on the pavement like a fool.”

  “There was no need for you to have left the lobby.”

  “There was every reason. I was beside myself with worry.”

  “I’m sorry for that. But, now—”

  He smoothly interrupted. “Are you going to the station on Elm?”

  “Yes. And I must hurry or I’ll miss my train.”

  However, he didn’t increase his pace. He didn’t allow her to race ahead. Instead, Owen kept his hold steady on her arm and his pace sedate. Foiling her goal.

  She became resentful. Who was he to come out of nowhere and start ordering her about? He was a coddled and very wealthy man. He had no right to impose his ways on her. She was so far from the ladies of his class, she feared she wasn’t even refined enough to get a job as a lady’s maid in one of their mansions.

  Why, he likely had no idea what it was like to be a poor person living in the heart of the city.

  “Sean told me you have your own coach,” she said with more than a slight touch of asperity.

  “That is true. I do.”

  “If you roam about the city in your own carriage, I’m surprised you even know where the train stations are.”

  “Watch your tongue. You know everyone in the city takes the elevated when they can.” Leaning a little closer to her ear, he added, “I’m sure you also realize that we are not that far apart in circumstance.”

  He was so far above her in the world, she was surprised she didn’t need a step stool to converse with him. “Only someone like you could think something like that.”

  Impatiently, he muttered, “I’m a cop, first and foremost, Miss Ryan.”

  Looking up, she noticed they were standing outside the train station. She now had mere minutes to purchase her ticket, skitter up the stairs, and be waiting at the platform before her train came.

  With a jerk she pulled her arm from his clasp. “No, Detective Howard. First and foremost, you are a gentleman.”

  “I’m trying to tell you that places in society shouldn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” she replied before running into the station.

  Once inside, she practically barreled down everyone in her path. She was desperate to get that train. Staying in the vicinity of Detective Howard would be a terrible mistake. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start imagining that his concern for her welfare meant something.

  After that, it was only a matter of time before she’d start dreaming that he could actually care about a girl like Katie Ryan.

  That he could actually want a girl like her in his life.

  Two days after he had escorted Eloisa to Hope House, Sean returned to Maeve’s, grateful for her offer of another home-cooked meal. Besides, he was wondering what she had thought of Eloisa.

  From the time he’d escorted Eloisa home, he’d replayed every conversation, every warm look, every feeling he’d had in her presence. Now he was feeling like the biggest fool. He had a serial slasher to catch, along with a whole host of other cases and crimes to concentrate on. The last thing in the world he needed was to spend almost every waking second thinking about a woman who only saw him as her conduit to the needs of the lower classes.

  Maeve was in the kitchen, slicing an onion to within an inch of its life when he entered.

  “Who is winning, you or the onion?”

  Wiping her eyes with the edge of her apron, she grimaced. “The onion, I’m afraid. Every time I make scrapple, I promise myself I won’t do it again. I hate dicing onions. Don’t know why.”

  After quickly washing his hands, Sean gently pulled the knife from her. “I’ll do this, then.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Actually, cutting a defenseless onion into small pieces sounded like exactly the type of mindless activity he needed. “I need something to occupy myself. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Mine too. Jemima fell and scraped her knees something awful, and then I ran out of milk and had to ask Jack for some milk money.”

  “Do you need some money?”

  She waved a hand. “It weren’t the money he got excited about. It was the fact that he figured out I spent too much at the fabric store the other day. He weren’t real pleased with me. I’ll tell ya that.”

  “Hmm,” he said in his best noncommittal way. Sean had always thought Maeve’s husband had the patience of a saint to put up with his bossy, opinionated sister. When she handed him another onion, he carefully sliced it in half, then started chopping again. “Almost done.”

  “Ta.”

  “Anytime, Maeve.”

  Her usual caustic demeanor sweetened. “This is like old times, it is.”

  “Not hardly. When we lived at home, Ma kept you in the kitchen and me out of the house.”

  She laughed. “Right you are. But I’m still glad you came by.” Her expression still bright, she said, “You and me standing here in the kitchen, chopping onions, what a sight we are.”

  He laughed. “I’d say so.”

  “My life is a far cry from the l
ikes of Eloisa Carstairs, it is.”

  Now he knew what had really been bothering her when he’d walked through her door. She was thinking about Eloisa’s days and comparing them to her own. “Maeve, just because Miss Carstairs doesn’t chop onions, it doesn’t mean she’s all bad.”

  “I’m not being critical of her.”

  “’Course you are.” Since he’d come over wanting to hear her thoughts about Eloisa as much as a meal, he dug in. “What did you think of Eloisa?”

  “Are you speaking of Miss Carstairs?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “So you are calling her Eloisa now?”

  “Maeve. Don’t be like that.”

  “I’m not being any certain way. All I’m doing is wondering what had made you decide to develop a friendship with her.”

  “I wouldn’t call us friends. Merely acquaintances.”

  “Sean, if I believed that, I’d be a sight less smart. No need to lie to me, you know. I saw the way you eyed her the entire time.”

  He’d had no idea his regard was so apparent. “And what way was I eyeing her?”

  “You know.”

  “Maeve, I promise, I do not.”

  She blew out a breath of air. “You were looking at her like she was the stars and the sun and the moon, all wrapped up into one glorious, high-society package.”

  He glared at her. “If I was looking at her often, it was purely out of concern for her welfare. You ladies certainly didn’t make her feel welcome.”

  “We aren’t ladies, brother. Some of the women there are hardly respectable. Some aren’t respectable at all. We all knew that too.” Looking mulish, she glared at him. “It was awkward, it was.” After a moment, she added, “She stopped by again yesterday.”

  “She did? Did she stay for a time? She didn’t arrive alone, did she?”

  “No, she had her driver with her. And from what I heard, she only stopped by to drop off some linens and books.” Almost grudgingly, she added, “The women were appreciative of her efforts.”

  Sean didn’t miss the slight disdain in her tone. “Miss Carstairs was there for a good cause. No harm would have come to you for trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Or from giving her a little less of a bitter attitude. She’s had a difficult time of it lately. I would appreciate it if you could spare her a bit of compassion.”