Gathering up her gloves and the beaded reticule Madame had also procured for the evening, Madeline slipped her feet into her evening shoes.
Now what? She couldn’t sit for fear of wrinkling the fabric and crushing the roses and greenery attached to her gown, so she went to the window with the idea of looking up at the stars. Instead, she spied Jonah arriving at the gate.
At least she thought it was Jonah, though she had never seen him look so handsome.
When he looked up in her direction, Madeline stepped back from the window. It wouldn’t do at all to be caught peeking at him before he came inside.
She closed her curtains and moved toward the door. “We are employees of Madame Smith on assignment to discover clues as to what happened to her granddaughter.”
Madeline sighed. All of that was indeed true, but wearing this dress knowing she would be going to that party with that man did feel very much like a social occasion.
Worse, it felt like the old days when they were happy together. She managed a smile. “I miss those days,” Madeline whispered, “though I wish I didn’t.”
“Your escort is here,” Gretchen said as she threw the door open without bothering to knock.
“He is not my escort,” she said but without much enthusiasm.
One hand on the doorknob, she looked back at the necklace on the table and let out a long breath. Hurrying over to scoop it up, she dropped the chain and key into her reticule and closed the door behind her to move toward the stairs.
Jonah’s voice carried up the three levels of the staircase to reach her as she made her way down. Madame’s laughter joined his as they shared some amusement.
Instead of thinking about how handsome the Pinkerton detective had looked in the moonlight, she decided to go over the facts of the case as she knew them. The two of them were, by Madame’s instruction, part of a team looking to infiltrate Galveston society and find a missing woman.
Taken as a whole, there was very little for a newspaper reporter to build a story on. Madame had been apologetic when Madeline pressed for details, claiming they had been lost in time or were merely memories of letters long gone to the ruin of hurricanes or floods.
Oh, but the story of Lafitte and his treasure, now that one had much more substance. Evidence existed that the pirate Lafitte had left substantial coin and other items of great value in places where he planned to return and retrieve them.
But had he? There was the conundrum. To prove he had, one would have to prove he survived beyond those years when documented sightings of the pirate existed. For unless he had survived, the treasure still lay in wait for his return and retrieval.
But if he did survive, if he managed to live beyond the years in Cuba and his subsequent documented scuffles with the navies of multiple countries, then anything was possible.
In fact, it was entirely possible that a man such as Lafitte who was well schooled in subterfuge did exactly that. And what if he took his ill-gotten gains and retired to live in comfort? Madeline touched the sapphires at her neck. What if he finally decided enough was enough?
Enough coin.
Enough baubles.
Enough fighting and endlessly looking behind him to worry who might be coming after him next. What would a man like that do?
Madeline paused on the second-floor landing, her hand gripping the rail as she followed the trail of reason rather than think of the fate that awaited her downstairs. A man like that just might settle down, find a good woman, and perhaps even begin again to raise a family.
Of course age was a factor, as Lafitte would have been well into his fortieth year when he disappeared from history. But a man of forty or even fifty might still find a bride willing to settle down to a quiet life of children and then, eventually, grandchildren.
Or, more specifically, a granddaughter born in 1855.
Madame’s laughter once again resonated from the foyer below. It would take a special woman to love a man with such a past. But the story, more of a theory she’d researched for many years, was certainly one that could have happened.
It was the story that led her to Madame. Now Madeline would see if the facts led her there too.
Madeline took a deep breath and straightened her spine. The corset impeded her breathing but not by as much as it might have if Gretchen had her way.
By the time she reached the turn in the staircase that brought her in view of the first-floor landing and the foyer beyond, Madeline thought she had it clear in her mind that this was merely a business event. Just two people working on a shared investigation.
A project.
Anything but a social occasion.
Yes, he had kissed her, but that was only in the line of duty. And she hadn’t enjoyed it.
Much.
Then she spied Jonah speaking with Madame, and her best efforts evaporated. His back was to her, allowing Madeline to study the Pinkerton detective at her leisure.
Her escort for the evening was wearing a black dress coat and trousers. His hair had been tamed, possibly even barbered, and the everpresent gun he carried at his waist had disappeared. A pair of fashionable gentleman’s shoes had replaced his usual boots, making the transformation from detective to dandy complete.
The man looked, in a word, breathtaking.
But this was not personal.
Madeline squared her shoulders and continued down the stairs. The Pinkerton detective turned her direction. His eyes swept the length of her in a rakish glance, and then he smiled.
“Hello, Madeline.”
“Detective,” she said, as much to remind herself as to remind him that they were attending this ball for purposes of work and not pleasure.
“You look lovely,” Madame told her as she pressed something into her hand. She looked down to see an exquisite jeweled notebook with a pencil attached. “Should you need to make a note of any discoveries this evening.”
“Yes, of course,” she said as she tucked the notebook into her bag and looked past Madame to find Jonah studying her.
Jonah had heard the word breathtaking used in regard to beautiful women before. But not until he saw Madeline Latour walking down Mrs. Smith’s staircase had he experienced this feeling for himself.
Gone was the irritatingly nosy reporter with her incessant comments and refusal to cooperate with good sense, and in her place was a stunning woman who looked as if she came out of a storybook.
The woman he once thought he would spend his life with.
The woman he wanted to kiss again.
Mrs. Smith led her over to him because he hadn’t had the good sense or presence of mind to do anything except stand there gaping like a fool. She put Madeline’s hand in his and said something about them leaving.
Jonah heard hardly any of it.
“Something wrong, Jonah?” Madeline said.
“No,” he managed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
The reporter gave him a look that told him she thought he’d lost his mind. If he could have managed to speak with any good sense, he could have told her she was right. He had.
Somehow he managed to get out the door and all the way to the front gate without any major mishaps. Then he realized his fumbling fingers could not open the gate.
“Oh for goodness’ sake.” Madeline reached over his arm to easily accomplish the task.
Instead of walking through the now-open gate, Jonah pulled it shut once more and turned to face Madeline. “Okay, something is wrong.”
“What?” She lifted her hand to touch her hair. “Has Gretchen put something awful up there? Did she weave poison ivy in with the roses? I wouldn’t be surprised. I have no idea why that woman dislikes me so much, but she certainly—”
Jonah pressed his finger to her lips, temporarily ceasing the barrage of words. “None of that,” he said. “But there is a problem.”
Overhead the stars sparkled as only they could in this part of Texas. Just behind them the noise of carriages approaching and leaving, of couples arriving,
mingled with the chorus of musical instruments each time the front door to Ashton Villa opened.
But here on this side of the fence, with the uncomfortable fancy shoes his sister insisted on him wearing pinching his feet, he needed to get one thing straight with Madeline Latour.
“You were not supposed to look so beautiful.”
“Thank you?” she said as she shook her head.
“Don’t thank me. This is a real predicament.”
The moonlight painted her features in silver as she shook her head. “Stop teasing me, Jonah. I know this isn’t what I normally wear, but you don’t have to be cruel.”
“I assure you I am not being cruel.” He looked up into the night sky again and then back down at her. “We are going over there as guests of the Browns, but you and I both know we are investigators looking for clues to find that woman. To that end, we should be inconspicuous.”
“Well, of course,” she said.
“Darlin’, in that dress the last thing you could possibly be is inconspicuous.”
Madeline crossed Broadway Avenue on Jonah’s arm. She slid him a sideways glance but found his attention focused straight ahead.
Giving way to a carriage filled with well-dressed men and women, Jonah led her around to the sidewalk in front of the magnificent home known as Ashton Villa. Though she had seen this home nearly every day since she arrived in Galveston, tonight was the first time she had really looked at the magnificent structure.
Standing every bit as tall as Madame’s rented home, the Browns’ mansion had been lit with a multitude of lamps and lanterns for the occasion. The home was a three-story brick structure made in the Italianate manner with black frilled iron railings on the front balcony and porch below.
Madame had told her that President Lincoln’s notice of emancipation for the slaves had been read by General Granger of the Union army on that very balcony some fifteen years ago. Tonight the balcony had been festooned with more lanterns and now played host to a pair of gentlemen who were likely also in the employ of either law enforcement or the former president himself.
Jonah tipped his hat to the men on the balcony and got a greeting in return. “Remember our purpose tonight, Madeline,” he told her.
“I will try not to detract from it,” she said with a jab of sarcasm.
“See that you don’t.” His tone did not betray whether he was serious or merely continuing the joke. After all, they did have an agreement that required them to pretend a relationship that had once been real.
Jonah stepped forward, and Madeline took the opportunity to look around.
As she approached the house on Jonah’s arm, several men came up to stop them. She recognized one immediately. “Hello, Detective Donovan,” she said. “Are you assigned to President Grant?”
“I am assigned to his safety,” he said. “I assure you there will be nothing to worry about as long as the Pinkerton Agency is in charge.”
Jonah shook his head. “You might also want to credit the Galveston police and a few other government agencies, Donovan. Don’t try to make her think you’re doing all of this alone. Miss Latour is far too smart to believe you.”
He grinned and dipped his head. “Detective Cahill is, as always, correct.”
Madeline smiled, but something in the detective’s tone troubled her. “Is he a friend of yours?” she asked when they’d moved past him toward the door.
“Of sorts,” Jonah said. “We joined the agency within a few years of one another and have worked on several cases together.” He glanced over at her as he stepped onto the porch. “Why?”
She shook her head. “No reason.”
The door to Ashton Villa swung open, and Jonah ushered her inside. To Madeline’s right, a magnificent staircase rose beneath a crystal chandelier aglow with what seemed to be thousands of lights. Up ahead she could see a crowd had gathered in a room adorned with floor-to-ceiling windows that were topped with cornices of what must be pure gold.
From each cornice, curtains of filmy gold fell and puddled on the polished wood floors. The walls had been papered in a similar shade of gold, making the room feel both opulent and cozy.
A frenzy of conversation died down just as Jonah and Madeline stepped into the room. “My friends and neighbors,” a man who must be their host called. “Rebecca and I are most honored to welcome you into our home. But even more so are we honored to have in our midst not only a hero but also a man of great learning and expertise.”
At the word hero, an older fellow next to Madeline groaned. “Not all of us have forgotten the war years,” he commented to her. “Though he did turn out to be a decent president, I will say.”
“So with no further ado,” Mr. Brown continued, “I present the eighteenth president of the United States of America.”
As President Grant rose to begin speaking, Madeline glanced around the room. Most of the guests were dressed in the same evening garb she and Jonah had chosen. A few of the men, however, wore military uniforms with buttons and sashes that indicated their rank and importance.
One of them, a gentleman easily as old as the former president, caught her looking and smiled.
“Flirting already?” Jonah whispered.
“I am doing my job. Who is that man over there by the staircase?”
Jonah glanced past her then returned his attention to Madeline. “That would be Commander Horace Montlake, former aide to Rear Admiral Rogers during his voyage to Korea back in ’71. Small amphibious assault on the forts protecting Seoul for the purpose of getting an apology for murders of Americans.”
“Oh my. I don’t know anything about that,” she said.
“I would say you should ask him, but likely he’ll offer the information. Likely also he’ll introduce himself exactly as I said. He always does.”
“So you know him?”
“Madeline, everyone in Galveston knows the commander.”
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. “He’s coming this way.”
Jonah grinned. “Then I suppose you’ve just hit on the topic of conversation. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go and do the job I was hired to do. I see Mrs. William Ballenger, and I intend to ask her if she has any recollections that might be helpful.”
Madeline nodded and then watched as Jonah walked over to an elegant older lady and began speaking with her. Commander Montlake pressed past several guests to stand beside Madeline as clapping sounded all around them indicating that President Grant had finished speaking.
“Not quite the orator of his predecessor but he’ll do.” The elderly sailor smiled down at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Commander Horace Montlake, former aide to Rear Admiral Rogers during his voyage to Korea back in ’71.”
Madeline stifled a giggle and then offered him her most neutral expression. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Commander. I am Madeline Latour.”
“Well now, Miss Latour. It is certainly pleasing to see such a lovely young woman in our fair city. Are you newly arrived?”
“Of a sort,” she said. “I understand you are a hero.”
The commander’s face flushed, and a broad smile rose. “I don’t know about all that, but I did serve our country and still do, although back in ’71…”
While Commander Montlake was waxing poetic on the strategy behind the campaign he apparently still remembered as if it happened yesterday, Madeline used his inattention to her to make note of the other guests in the room.
Seated on one of the settees that lined the room was the elderly Mr. Sealey. Beside him, his wife waited in attendance to him while expertly fending off the conversation attempts of several talkative matrons. Several others whose faces she recognized as being among Galveston’s wealthy elite mingled around her.
Gradually, Madeline became aware that the commander had stopped talking. She turned to him with a smile. “It appears you’ve had quite a lot of experience in handling situations of importance,” she said, and he beamed. “I wonder if I
might trouble you to get some advice.”
“Certainly,” he said as he inclined his ear. “What is it exactly that you need advice in regard to?”
“It is like this,” she told him. “A dear friend of mine is looking to locate someone who she believes is living in Galveston but has little information. I wonder what sort of advice you might have for her.”
“This someone, might this be a man or a woman?”
“A woman,” she said. “Trésor Smith is her name, but I don’t know what she looks like. And it is possible she doesn’t know who she is.”
He smiled. “Look around you, then. Anyone in Galveston of any importance is here. I would tell your friend that if she is not here, she should be. Your friend is Madame Smith, yes?”
“How did you know?” she asked.
“My dear, I have known Madame Smith for quite some time. I paid her a visit just a few days ago and she told me she had hired you and that Pinkerton man over there to investigate on her behalf.”
“I see.” She paused to consider her next question. “And what else did she tell you?”
“That she had the greatest confidence that you would find the child she has lost.” He looked away to greet another guest and then returned his attention to Madeline. “I believe the woman you seek is in this room.”
“She is?” Madeline’s heart jumped. “And how do you know this? Have you seen her?”
He smiled. “As a child, yes. She was most beautiful. I can tell you she had her grandmother’s smile and her grandfather’s eyes.”
“So you knew Mr. Smith, then?”
“Quite well,” he said with a grin. “Since I was a child, you might say.”
“This is wonderful news.” She pulled her notebook out of her bag. “Would you mind if I jot down some notes? If you please, I need a more detailed description. We have very few details about her.”
“Miss Latour, I am afraid I have told you all I can.”
She tried not to show her disappointment. “Yes, all right. How can I contact you?”
He offered her a formal bow. “I see Mrs. Moody needs saving from the Franklin sisters again, so I fear I must come to her assistance.”
My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas Page 14