To Love a Scoundrel

by Sharon Ihle

Harry raised slender ebony eyebrows above his startling smoky green eyes. "Now, you know that I cannot leave Harrison Enterprises unattended for that long. You'll just have to make do without me."

  "But, Jack," she cried as she climbed in bed beside him, "surely you can find someone on your staff to care for the business. I need you."

  "Darling, Jack Harrison is the business. Enough of this talk. You're going to make me feel that I'm unworthy of you, that I'm not as successful as your husband."

  "Oh, Jack, never say anything like that. Edward may make more money, but you're much more of a man than he could ever be." Carlotta rubbed an appreciative fingertip over Harry's perfectly groomed mustache and sighed. "I just love your skinny little mustache, Jack. It's so European."

  "Really?" Harry slowly ran his tongue along his upper lip. "Is there anything else you love about me?"

  Carlotta laughed from deep in her throat and ran her fingers through the graying hairs at his temples. "I absolutely adore the little rhymes you're always making up. Tell me another, Jack darling."

  "I don't know if I can think of one tonight. Why don't you give it a try? You might have some... hidden talents you're unaware of."

  Then, using his diminutive pinkies which would have been considered stunted by anyone's standards, Harry lifted the sheet and beckoned Carlotta to slide under it.

  "Oh, Jack," she crooned, lifting an eyebrow. "You're such a naughty one."

  "My dear," he said with an indecent grin. "I'm much more than naughty. I'm downright dangerous."

  With a lusty chuckle, Carlotta snuggled up beside him and began to recite the rhyme she'd settled on. "Jack be nimble, but not too quick. Jack has a great big—"

  The rest of her poem was lost as Harry pulled her across his chest and crushed her mouth to his.

  * * *

  Back in Chicago one week later Jewel stuck her head inside Allan's office. "Hi, boss. Do I need to throw a white flag out, or am I welcome back here yet?''

  "Good Lord, girl," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Get on in here. Of course you're welcome."

  "I wasn't sure after that fiasco in Kansas," she said as she glided into the office and took her usual chair across from Allan's desk. "I apologize again for letting the James gang get away."

  "Forget it. You didn't do any worse than the rest of us have from time to time—including me. How's the arm?"

  Jewel shrugged. "All right, I guess. The doctor took the cast off this morning. The arm feels kind of strange, as if it doesn't really belong to me, but I'm fit for duty, if that's what you mean."

  "No, you're not," he countered, spearing her with an ice blue stare. "I've had my share of broken bones, and I happen to know removing the cast is just one step toward complete recovery. You've got a long way to go before you'll be able to defend yourself properly."

  "But, Allan, I can't just—"

  "No arguments, Jewel. I know what I'm talking about, and I cannot allow you to jeopardize your life or the life of any operative who may be working with you."

  "I know." She sighed, absently rubbing her wounded arm through the peach organdy sleeve of her blouse. "But I feel so ready, so impatient to get back to work. Isn't there something I can do besides sit around the office and read reports?"

  "I think so," Allan said with a smug grin. "I may have stumbled across a little something you should be able to handle without too much trouble." He tossed a handbill across his desk and invited her to pick it up. "You can read up on the steamship later. For now just let me tell you what's come to my attention while you were having fun in Philadelphia."

  Jewel glanced at the paper announcing the maiden voyage of the Delta Dawn, then stuck it in her reticule. She had something to settle with her employer, something that couldn't wait. "I want you to know that I appreciate the paid vacation and that I did have a lot of fun at the exhibition. But before you tell me about the new assignment, I'd like to clear the air about another little problem."

  "Of course, Jewel. What is it?"

  She glanced down at her hands, curled them in her lap, then looked him straight in the eye. "I'd like you to do me a favor, please. I'd appreciate it if in the future you won't try to set me up with any more of your operatives."

  Allan looked away from her and began picking at an imaginary hangnail. "You don't spend enough time taking care of your personal life. A woman your age should at least have a semi-permanent beau."

  "Even if she doesn't want one, Allan?"

  His gaze still riveted on his fingers, he shrugged. "I thought Richard might be a good match for you."

  Jewel rapped her knuckles on the desk. "Did you really Allan? Come on now—the truth."

  He let out his breath and finally looked back up at her. "No, I don't suppose I really thought he was right for you, but he's as close as you'll probably find. I'm not sure there is a proper match for a strong-minded woman like you."

  "Now, that's where you're wrong." She laughed, surprised she'd verbalized the thought. "There most definitely is a match for me. He and I have already butted heads a couple of times."

  Raising his bushy eyebrows in astonishment, Allan leaned forward and pushed the papers aside. "Why is this the first I've heard of him? Who is he? Where did you meet him?"

  Again she laughed. "You've heard of him, but who he is doesn't matter. Brent Connors and I are a match made in hell, not heaven. If I ever lay eyes on him again—and that's not too likely—I'm just as liable to blow a hole through him as look at him."

  "So that's it," Allan said with an amused grin. "The fellow from Topeka. The one who shot you and—"

  "Forget about him, please. I have," she said, aware even her considerable acting talents couldn't hide the lie. She straightened her spine and put on her most professional expression. "Enough of that. Tell me what you found out while I was gone. What's it got to do with the debut of this steamship?''

  Allan continued to stare at her, alternately grinning and puckering his mouth in speculation. When a long moment of this drew no response from her, he leaned back in his chair and continued to regard her. Four years of working with Jewel had taught him one constant about her personality: When she closed up, that was it. No amount of prodding from him or anyone else could get her to open up and talk about herself.

  Uncertain whether he felt more admiration or sorrow for her tough hide, Allan pointed to the papers on his desk and explained the assignment. "It seems our good friend Harry Benton was probably among the patrons, if not the players, at the poker tournament in Topeka."

  "What?" Jewel popped out of her chair. "But... but how could I have missed him?"

  Smiling, Allan opened the file lying on his desk. He ran a finger down the page, then stopped at the name he sought. "It seems that Countess Penelope DeMorney finally came forward and announced that she'd been relieved of several priceless heirlooms while in the company of a man called, H. C. von Maximus."

  "Let me guess," Jewel said with a frustrated groan. "It took the lady this long to report the theft because she was seeing Harry on an in flagrante delicto basis."

  Allan laughed. "Aptly put, my dear."

  Her attention was centered on only one thing—Harry—so Jewel didn't even smile. She ignored Allan's laughter and pushed on. "What makes you so sure the man was Harry? How was he dressed? What kind of description did the countess give the authorities?"

  "Sit down, Jewel," Allan said, his tone deadly serious. His gaze fixed and somber, he waited for her to comply before he went on. "When I've finished, I'll give you the full report I received and you can decide for yourself whether the description fits Harry or not. For now I will tell you I'm satisfied that he is probably is our man."

  "I'm sorry, Allan. I didn't mean to contradict you or—"

  "No apology necessary. Just see if you can be less emotional over the capture of Harry Benton." He cocked a thick bushy eyebrow to make his point, then went on. "You can read the report at your leisure. I'll send it along with you."

  Smiling again, Allan
leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers across his chest. "How would you like to take another vacation—this time aboard the newest steamship the Mississippi River has to offer?"

  "The Delta Dawn?" she said, remembering the handbill.

  "Precisely. The advertisement I gave you was one of hundreds distributed throughout the Golden Dove Hotel and Topeka in general. This same handbill has been seen throughout New York and parts of Washington as well. If everything advertised is true, the maiden voyage of this boat will attract the elite from near and far."

  "And Harry? You got word he was planning to make the voyage?''

  ''No, it simply struck me as a place he might want to be."

  "Oh," she said trying not to sound disappointed. "What makes you think that he or this von Maximus person will be aboard?"

  "I can't know for sure," he hedged, "but it's as good a guess as any. I've procured a passenger list, and there are some very, very influential people aboard. Vanderbilts and Astors, to name a few. I would imagine those names might draw Harry like a polecat to a henhouse."

  Allan handed the passenger list to Jewel. She scanned the names, impressed with the caliber, but feeling more and more discouraged as she neared the end without recognizing any of Harry's known aliases. She sighed and began pulling at the little finger on her left hand, twisting and turning it until she bit her lip in frustration. More and more she felt that she was chasing a ghost, a figment of her imagination who evaporated every time she got close. Would she ever find Harry Benton? Corner and confront him as she'd dreamed of doing?

  Vexed, as she always seemed to be when Harry was the topic of conversation, Jewel sailed the passenger list back to Allan's desk. "Isn't there something else for me to do? Some assignment a one-armed detective can handle?"

  "I'm afraid it's this or office work," Allan said softly. "If you should get lucky and stumble onto Harry during this little trip, the worst danger you'll face is a possible broken heart. Harry may be a lot of things, but he's never resorted to violence of any kind. If you guard your feminine nature and remember that he can charm the fangs off a rattler, you shouldn't be in any danger."

  Jewel's laugh was bitter as she listened to the unnecessary warning. Harry Benton had done much worse than break her heart. He'd sealed it off, strangled the emotions, and destroyed the delicate capacity to love, then left it to dry up and vanish like a puff of dust. The heart she carried in her chest now was nothing more than a machine, an organ that beat only to sustain her life. How could Harry Benton possibly do it any further damage?

  "What do you say, Jewel? Ready for a trip down the Mississippi?"

  With less than her usual enthusiasm, she resigned herself to the new assignment and gave Allan a tiny smile. "I suppose it's better than sitting around here watching the dead skin flake off my arm."

  "Oh, Jewel," Allan said with a grimace.

  "Sorry, but that's what seems to be happening."

  "Just keep lotion on it. It'll be back to normal in a couple of days." Allan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Now that you've decided to accept the job, I have to tell you that you'll have one small problem on this assignment. Given your talents, I'm sure you'll find a way to solve it."

  "Oh?" Her interest finally piqued, she pulled her chair closer to the desk and cocked her head for a better look at the paperwork.

  "This is your steamship ticket, but unfortunately it's only good for a round-trip on the Illinois Eagle, leaving here in the morning. It arrives in St. Louis the night before the Delta Dawn shoves off. That's where your problem comes in."

  Jewel regarded his sheepish expression, the bad-boy glint in his eye, and said, "Let's have it."

  "I'm afraid I was unable to secure passage for you on the Delta Dawn. The maiden voyage is sold out."

  "For heaven's sake, Allan," she said with a huge sigh, "I thought I had a real problem." Jewel grinned, alive with a sense of adventure. "I'll find a way to get on that ship if I have to sign up as a cook."

  "I sincerely hope you're able to find another means," Allan said, shuddering as he recalled the only time he'd had the misfortune of eating one of her home-cooked meals.

  Knowing exactly what he was referring to, Jewel lifted her chin defensively and said, "You think I couldn't pull it off? Besides, my cooking isn't so terrible if you consider I never set foot in a kitchen until I graduated from college."

  "Tell it to someone else," Allan said, laughing. "I've eaten your biscuits, remember? They plugged up my entire system for a month. There's a reason you were never allowed in the kitchen back home."

  "Yes, there is," she snapped back in jest. "But just because a girl is raised in a houseful of servants, it doesn't mean she can't learn to cook."

  "In your case it does."

  Jewel began laughing and conceded, "Maybe I'd better look for some other kind of employment aboard that ship." She reached for the papers and pulled the handbill out of her reticule. "Interesting... It looks as if this boat has a little bit of everything going by way of entertainment. There's even mention of a couple of circus acts."

  Allan shook his head. "Too dangerous until your arm is completely healed. Maybe you can get a job as a singer."

  "The steamship company would have to be pretty desperate to hire me. I cook better than I sing." As she spoke, Jewel studied Benton's file. Even though she'd read it often enough to repeat it verbatim, she picked through it, looking for something, anything, to use as bait. Maybe if she stopped chasing Harry, encouraged him to seek her out, he would be an easier weasel to snare. "What do you see mentioned on this handbill that would satisfy Harry's hedonistic nature? If he actually signed on for this maiden voyage, there must be something that will bring him out of hiding, force his hand—and snap him into my handcuffs."

  "Just about everything and anything, as long as it has to do with money and women. But don't forget," he warned. "Whatever you decide on will have to help gain your passage at the same time."

  "I realize that," she concurred, looking for the perfect combination.

  And then, although she'd known about this peculiar personality trait for years, it leapt into her mind as if for the first time. Jewel grabbed the Benton file and hastily read through it again. When she found the words she sought, the simplicity of the solution practically slapped her in the face.

  "That's it," she cried out, knowing she'd found Harry Benton's Achilles' heel. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

  Allan cocked his head and followed her finger as she trailed it across the paper. With a thoughtful frown, he glanced up at her. "You're not thinking of—"

  "Oh, yes, I am." Her green eyes alive and sparkling with enthusiasm, she ran her tongue along her upper lip. "That man doesn't have a prayer, Allan."

  "But are you sure you can pull it off?"

  Her expression predatory, confident, Jewel assured him. "Harry Benton hasn't got any more chance with me than a snaggle-toothed spinster with a big bank account has with him."

  Chapter 6

  St. Louis, Missouri

  June 18, 1876

  From his lofty perch in the pilothouse, Brent Connors kept a nervous watch as Captain Randazzo maneuvered the Delta Dawn away from the crowded dock. Even though he was aided by two pilots, 340 feet of steamship was a tremendous bulk to guide into the traffic lanes.

  Paulo, a veteran pilot who'd promised Brent he knew every old snag and low-limbed cottonwood tree along the banks of the river, gripped the immense wheel along with the captain. Watkins, a cub whose knowledge was limited to textbook descriptions, kept a lookout for other ships and small craft.

  Brent held his breath until the steamship backed into the main canal and started down river before he released an uneasy sigh of relief. He had sunk every dollar he had in the world into this boat, he thought as his fingers searched the nearly empty pockets of his gray-striped trousers. Had he chosen the crew wisely? Or would this newly formed team run the paddle wheeler up on the first sandbar they came acros
s—or, worse, sink her in the deepest parts of the river?

  Captain Randazzo—Dazzle, as he was called—turned and smiled at his boss. "We managed that without a collision. I expect we can get her downriver in one piece—that is, unless her boilers blow."

  "Good Lord, Dazzle," Brent said, flinching. "Don't even think a thing like that, much less say it. You trying to bring us bad luck?"

  The captain opened his mouth, and his laughter, deep and rumbling, seemed to roll up and spew out from his round belly. "I've had both your share and mine of bad luck over the last few years. I'm due for some good. Why, when I think of last year and the time that tornado tore them stacks right off the Texas deck of the—"

  "Some other time, please," Brent said, his voice wavering. "No disaster stories today."

  With a sharp salute and short nod, the captain walked over to his specially built high chair and climbed up the step. Settling onto the wooden seat, he glanced over his shoulder. "You're looking too much the southern gentleman to be hanging around in the wheelhouse. Why don't you go on down and mix with your passengers? We can handle her."

  Brent shrugged, and then straightened his long-tailed coat of the finest broadcloth. Glancing at his reflection in the wheelhouse window, he tilted his shiny black top hat just a bit to the left and smiled. He was, he decided, as fresh and crisp as the new coats of blue paint on the decks of the Delta Dawn—and as much a maiden as the ship when it came to navigating the waters of the Mississippi.

  Still concerned about the perils ahead, Brent approached the captain. "You sure you don't need me up here? I don't know a lot, but I can keep watch on the—"

  "Begging your pardon, boss, but what I don't need up here is another pair of virgin eyeballs, if you get my meaning."

  "I admit I don't know much about snags and things, but I can watch out for other boats."

  "That's why we got a cub aboard. Believe me, Mr. Connors, if I'd a needed another mate, I'd have asked you to hire one." Dazzle narrowed one ebony eye at his boss, and then lit a fat cigar.