A Match of Wits

by Jen Turano

  Lifting the glasses once again, Agatha found Zayne and Mr. Blackheart still standing in the same spot. Her lips curled as she watched Zayne raise a hand and wipe his brow in a dramatic gesture. His wiping suddenly stopped when Mr. Blackheart shook his head and dropped his hold on him. Agatha couldn’t help but notice the telling fact that Zayne seemed to have no trouble standing on his own, especially since he began walking backward without the use of the cane he held in one hand when Mr. Blackheart plucked a towel out of the sack he was holding. Her mouth dropped open when the man then proceeded to try and wring water out of the towel, right over Zayne’s head. Heated words seemed to be exchanged as the men struggled for possession of the towel, but then both of them stilled, looked her way, leaned forward as if they were trying to ascertain whether or not she was watching them, and waved rather feebly back at her.

  Lowering the glasses, she caught Drusilla’s eye. “I might have to go along with this nonsense if only to see how far those two are willing to go in order to retain my cooperation.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, and while you’re catering to Zayne and his nonexistent illness, I’ll start looking for Willie.”

  “Forgive me, Drusilla, but you’re hardly qualified to search the slums for a man.”

  “You’d be surprised by what I’m qualified to do.”

  Before Agatha had an opportunity to respond to that telling, yet slightly confusing, statement, someone called out her name.

  Turning, she found none other than Mr. Hamilton Beckett, Zayne’s older brother, striding through the crowd toward her, a welcoming smile on his handsome face. Passing Matilda’s leash over to Drusilla, Agatha hurried to meet him. “Hamilton, this is a delightful surprise.”

  Hamilton grinned right before he swept her into a strong embrace, lifted her off her feet, gave her a good squeeze, and finally returned her to the ground. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised to see me, Agatha. I knew to the minute when the train was due, and I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of welcoming you and my brother back to New York.” He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Zayne?”

  “He’ll be along soon. He’s plotting, er, talking with Mr. Blackheart at the moment.”

  Hamilton moved a little closer to her. “Since he’s not here yet, tell me, how is he?”

  Agatha bit her lip. “He’s . . . different.”

  “Because of his leg?”

  “While his leg is certainly damaged, it’s more his spirit I was referring to.”

  “That’s what I’ve been afraid of, but I do hope you realize how grateful I am, along with the rest of my family, for your having convinced Zayne to come home. You’ve done us a great service, although”—he narrowed his eyes—“you must know you’ve put yourself in danger by bringing him back to us.”

  Waving his concern away, Agatha smiled. “I was getting tired of traveling, so I would have come home soon even if I hadn’t run into Zayne. And, just so you know, I didn’t really convince Zayne to come home. It was a case of my blowing up his reason for being in Colorado that prompted his return to the city.”

  “You blew something up?”

  “With dynamite,” Drusilla added as she joined them, tugging an obviously reluctant Matilda beside her. She handed the leash to Agatha. “It’s good to see you, Hamilton.”

  Hamilton smiled at Drusilla, but his smile dimmed when he glanced down. “Is that a pig?”

  Matilda let out a grunt right before she disappeared under Agatha’s skirt. Lifting her head, Agatha grinned. “She is a P-I-G, but she’s sensitive about that word, so you probably should stick to calling her Matilda.”

  “And you have this Matilda because . . . ?” Hamilton pressed.

  “It’s a long story,” Agatha admitted.

  Hamilton considered her for a second, and then his eyes widened as he turned to Drusilla. “Did you say something about dynamite?”

  “I’m afraid I did, and I’m afraid dynamite ignited by our very own Agatha was what put a rapid end to your brother’s mining venture.” Drusilla smiled. “Although, to be fair, it was an accident, because she certainly didn’t intend to blow up that mine with all of us in it.”

  Hamilton looked from Drusilla, to Agatha, and then back to Drusilla again. “You let her near dynamite?”

  Drusilla narrowed her eyes. “If you’ll recall, I was hired to provide her with extra protection, but protecting her from dynamite was never part of the . . .” Her voice trailed off, she sent Agatha a guilty look, and then promptly gestured to a lady wearing an extraordinarily large hat. “My goodness, would you look at that. I have to wonder if we’ve missed some new fashion trend while we traveled around the West. And if that’s the case, I’m going—”

  “What do you mean, you were hired to provide me with extra protection?” Agatha interrupted. “I was under the impression you were simply my paid companion.”

  Drusilla stopped watching the hat lady and frowned at Agatha. “There’s nothing simple about being your companion, Agatha.”

  Hamilton cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Drusilla, if I’ve allowed something to slip, but I simply can’t believe you never got around to telling her.”

  “I didn’t think she’d take it well,” Drusilla reluctantly admitted.

  “Take what well?” Agatha demanded.

  “Yes, take what well?” Mr. Blackheart asked as he stopped right beside her, handing Zayne his cane before he turned and glared at Drusilla.

  All thoughts of questioning Drusilla further about her obvious duplicity slipped right out of Agatha’s mind as she got a good look at Zayne. His face, refreshingly devoid of hair, thereby bringing attention to his classic features, was now drenched, as if Mr. Blackheart had stumbled upon a basin of water and had dumped that water directly over Zayne’s head. Zayne was trying, not very successfully, to pretend he wasn’t sopping wet, while Mr. Blackheart had apparently forgotten all about Zayne as he glared rather menacingly at Drusilla.

  “What didn’t you get around to telling Miss Watson?” Mr. Blackheart demanded.

  “I don’t care for your tone of voice, Mr. Blackheart,” Drusilla said with a sniff. “And . . . you’re disrupting what is certain to be a very touching reunion between Hamilton and Zayne.” She stepped aside and waved a hand at the two brothers. “Well, get on with it.”

  Reluctant admiration over the gumption of her companion had Agatha’s annoyance with the woman disappearing in a flash. She, having all too often found herself in the middle of the frying pan, had frequently employed such diversion tactics, and—

  “Why are you all wet?” Hamilton asked, pulling Agatha abruptly from her thoughts.

  A rather pained expression crossed Zayne’s face as he sent a furtive look to Mr. Blackheart, who completely missed the look since that man was still glaring at Drusilla. Zayne swiped a hand over his face and winced. “Ah, well, I’m perspiring.” He glanced over at her, then back at Hamilton, and then . . . he wiggled his brow.

  Hamilton’s eyes narrowed for just a second before he spun around but not fast enough for Agatha to miss the grin on his face.

  Hamilton and Zayne had always shared an incredibly close bond, one that, apparently, was still intact even given the amount of time they’d been apart.

  The last vestiges of the concern she’d had regarding coercing Zayne back to the city melted away.

  It didn’t matter if someone was still out there, intending to do her harm. Mr. Blackheart, along with Drusilla, by the sound of it, would work diligently to see her kept safe. What mattered was Zayne was back where he belonged, and once he was surrounded by his family, his healing really would begin.

  Hamilton finally turned back, his grin firmly under control, and took a step closer to Zayne. He paused, looking as if he didn’t really know what to do next. To Agatha’s surprise, Zayne moved forward and threw his arms around his brother, hugging Hamilton tightly to him for a long moment before he stepped back and smiled. “Sorry.”

  It was so like a gentlema
n to sum up the whole of his transgressions with one simple word.

  “There’s no need for you to apologize, Zayne,” Hamilton said, his voice gruff. “I’m simply glad you’ve come to your senses and returned home. We’ve missed you.”

  “I should have kept in better contact.”

  “Yes, you should have, although we did appreciate your monthly telegrams, but again, you’ve decided to come home, and that’s what matters.”

  “Agatha didn’t give me a choice,” Zayne said.

  Hamilton smiled. “So I’ve been told, but you really should have known better than to allow her in the vicinity of dynamite.”

  Not particularly wanting to delve into the whole dynamite fiasco again, Agatha tugged Matilda out from under her skirt and looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “In the interest of your safety, we decided it would be best not to have a crowd waiting here to greet you,” Hamilton said. “Your mother is waiting for you at your home, along with my mother. My father was called out of town just yesterday, so he won’t be around for a few weeks. But he did want me to make certain to welcome both of you back and to mention that he’d appreciate it if both of you would remain in town for the foreseeable future.”

  “I’ve always found your father to be absolutely delightful,” Agatha said, “but since my mother and yours are apparently together at the moment, we really shouldn’t leave them that way long. Who knows what mischief they might get into.”

  Hamilton grinned, looked at her, then Zayne, and shook his head. “I’m afraid they’ve already taken to plotting. They haven’t had an opportunity to do any matchmaking since Felicia got married two years ago.”

  Eyes widening, Agatha prodded Matilda forward. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Making her way through the station, Agatha continued chatting with Hamilton while Matilda pranced beside her, letting out squeals of excitement every other minute.

  “You do know you’re drawing a lot of attention with your Matilda, don’t you?” Hamilton asked as they reached the exit and he held open the door for her.

  “I didn’t really think about the attention we’d garner, but yes, I’ve seen the looks,” Agatha admitted, stepping out into a blustery wind. “It’s a good thing no one knew I was coming back to the city besides the family.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that,” Mr. Blackheart said, taking her arm as he joined her. “Motivated people are dangerous, so now that we’re back in the city, you’re going to have to be careful. And speaking of being careful, poor Zayne is not at his best at the moment, and someone is going to have to watch over him.”

  It took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes. “Then it’s fortunate we’ve returned to the city where his mother resides. Knowing Gloria, she’ll pull up a chair and hand-feed the poor man soup while he struggles to recover from whatever’s plaguing him. But . . . speaking of Zayne, where is he?”

  “He claimed to need a bit of a rest,” Drusilla said, strolling up to Agatha’s side. “He’ll be along soon I’m sure, once he figures out what’s exactly wrong with him, and what symptoms he’s supposed to be displaying at the moment.” She smiled. “Shall we go get the carriage and have it ready to pick him up right at the entrance when he finally decides to leave the station?”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea, but Miss Watson needs to stay put in order to keep Matilda out of all the traffic,” Mr. Blackheart said. “I’ll come with you, Drusilla, because I’ve been dying to chat with you, and what better time than right now, as we go to fetch the carriage?”

  “While that does sound like a splendid idea, Mr. Blackheart, I would think, given that your main purpose in life these days is to keep dear Agatha alive, that your time would be better spent looking out for her than trying to discern the extent of my secrets.”

  “So you do have secrets?”

  “Ah, would you look at that, here comes my carriage,” Hamilton said rather loudly, speaking over Drusilla and Mr. Blackheart, who’d begun to argue. “My coachman must have seen us and took matters into his own hands.” He turned to Agatha as the carriage pulled to a stop right in front of them. “May I help you inside?”

  “Since my bodyguard and my . . . well, whatever Drusilla actually is, don’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention to me, I would be grateful for a hand up, and even more grateful if you’d somehow get Matilda in the carriage. She doesn’t really like confined spaces.”

  Three minutes later, Agatha was sitting on the seat, Matilda lying on top of her feet, while Hamilton sat on the opposite side of the carriage, nursing the bloody lip he’d gotten when Matilda had turned feisty and caused him to fall face-first into the carriage. Drusilla fished in her ever-present satchel, pulled out a handkerchief, and gave it to Hamilton, while Mr. Blackheart continued to glare at Drusilla without speaking, even as Drusilla pretended not to notice his glare.

  “I wonder if someone should go check on Zayne?” Agatha asked, breaking the silence that surrounded them.

  “I’ll go,” Mr. Blackheart said with a grunt, disappearing out the carriage door a second later.

  “Well, this is pleasant,” Drusilla remarked.

  Agatha rolled her eyes. “You’re deliberately avoiding Mr. Blackheart’s questions, but I’m beginning to lose patience with you as well, so you really do need to start talking.”

  Drusilla smiled, turned to Hamilton, and asked, “How is your darling sister doing these days?”

  Hamilton smiled back at her around the handkerchief he still had pressed to his lip and ignored Agatha’s huff of frustration. “Arabella is well, thank you for asking. Are you aware she’s expecting?”

  “Why, I had no idea,” Drusilla returned with a bat of her lashes. “Theodore neglected to mention anything at all about that in his many telegrams.”

  “Arabella probably wanted to tell you in person, although once you see her, her condition will be obvious, since she’s huge. . . . But don’t tell her I said that. She’s a little emotional at the moment.”

  “This was not what I meant when I said I wanted Drusilla to start talking,” Agatha began, but stopped in mid-rant. “Arabella’s expecting?”

  “Indeed she is,” Hamilton said with a smile before he glanced out the window and frowned. “Is it my imagination or does it seem like it’s taking Mr. Blackheart forever to fetch Zayne?”

  “I, for one, am enjoying Mr. Blackheart’s absence,” Drusilla said.

  “I’m sure you are.” Hamilton reached for the door. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped from the carriage and began walking toward the train station.

  Agatha watched him go. “You don’t think something happened, do you?”

  “Zayne and Mr. Blackheart are probably just putting some finishing touches on their plan.”

  “Perhaps, but I should go check on them.” Agatha scooted forward on the seat but paused when Drusilla took hold of her arm.

  “You need to remember that you can’t dash about the city unescorted.”

  “I doubt I’ll be in much danger simply by walking back into the . . .” Her voice trailed off when she looked out the window and saw Zayne being held up by Mr. Blackheart and Hamilton, his cane nowhere in sight, trying to make it down the small flight of steps leading out of the station. She knew without a doubt that the grimace on his face was genuine, and concern had her leaping from the carriage and rushing toward him.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “He fell,” Hamilton said.

  “I’m fine,” Zayne countered. “I tripped over a piece of luggage, but again, I’m fine.”

  Sweat, this time genuine, rolled down his face, and his color was paler than it’d been before. Agatha moved closer to him. “You don’t look fine, Zayne. Is it your bad leg?”

  Without bothering to answer her, Zayne allowed Hamilton and Mr. Blackheart to get him down the steps and into the carriage as Agatha stayed right behind him. She felt tears sting her eyes when a telltale moan escaped Zayne’
s lips when his leg smacked against the side of the seat, right before he fell back against it and closed his eyes. She hurried in and settled down on the seat beside him.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” she whispered.

  “Stop hovering.”

  Folding her hands into her lap so she wouldn’t feel the urge to pat him on the arm—because Zayne would certainly take that as hovering—Agatha kept her lips pressed tightly together and watched as Hamilton, followed by Mr. Blackheart, climbed into the carriage and took their seats. An uncomfortable silence settled over the interior as the carriage lurched into motion.

  “Would you like us to take you to the doctor?” Hamilton finally asked.

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “I beg to differ, Zayne. You’re clearly in pain, and we should get that leg checked out.”

  Opening his eyes, Zayne glared at his brother. “There’s nothing any doctor can do for this leg, Hamilton, so just leave it alone.”

  A flash of heat flickered through Hamilton’s eyes, but then he shrugged. “Very well, but we’re not going to linger at Agatha’s house. We’ll fetch Mother and take you straight back to her house to get you settled.”

  “Fine,” was all Zayne said before he closed his eyes again and began rubbing his leg.

  Wanting to break some of the tension that now seeped through the carriage, Agatha summoned a smile and nodded to Hamilton. “You were telling me about how Arabella’s expecting soon. I imagine Theodore’s thrilled he’s about to become a father, and—”

  “Arabella’s going to have a baby?” Zayne interrupted as his eyes flashed open and he scowled at Hamilton.

  Hamilton smiled. “I’m delighted to admit she is.”

  “And why wasn’t I informed about that?”

  “Ah, well, we didn’t want to burden you with family news unless it was news of an urgent sort, and you were crystal clear in your telegrams that you wanted to be left alone.”

  “Arabella expecting a baby is urgent news,” Zayne said, his voice holding a trace of irritation. “And the fact I wanted to be left alone didn’t mean I wanted to sever all ties with the family.” Color began to seep back into his face. “What else wasn’t I told?”