A Match of Wits

by Jen Turano

“Of course.”

  For some reason, Agatha was suddenly looking somewhat anxious. He cleared his throat. “If you need to get home, Agatha, I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll probably just take a nap.”

  “I’m not staying at my home at the moment. I’m staying here.”

  Something unexpected and warm began to flow through him. “While I truly appreciate you looking out for me while I’ve been unconscious, I’m fine now, or I will be soon. There’s no need for you to continue staying here.”

  “I’m under strict orders from Mr. Blackheart and Theodore not to leave.”

  “And the reasoning behind those orders would be . . . ?”

  “Someone’s already tried to kill her, of course,” Gloria answered before Agatha could.

  His mouth dropped open. “The carriage?”

  Agatha nodded glumly. “I saw the driver steer those horses right at me, as did Mr. Blackheart.”

  “But we’d only just arrived in the city.”

  “True, but apparently someone learned of my arrival, and that someone still wants me dead.” Agatha blew out a breath. “That’s why I’m stuck here, er . . .” She sent him a small smile. “Well, not stuck here exactly, since I really did want to watch over you.”

  “And it’s a good thing you’ve finally woken up, Zayne,” Gloria added as she bent and kissed his cheek before straightening. “It’s very important that Agatha stay hidden, but you and I know perfectly well she’s not exactly the type to remain idle. Since you’re no longer unconscious, which is due to the fact Dr. Gessler took you off your sedative last night, you’ll be able to entertain her and make sure she stays in the house.”

  “I might still be too weak to perform that daunting task,” Zayne argued. “Especially since she’s already brought out whiskers, which means she’s—”

  “Which means nothing,” Agatha interrupted before she nodded to Gloria. “Go. I’ll keep him company.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Gloria said as she made her way for the door, turning around once she reached it. She smiled a misty smile and let out another sniff. “It is so good to have you home, Zayne, and . . .” She nodded to Agatha. “I am truly thankful God sent you into our lives, my lovely girl. Why, without you, I wouldn’t have my son back, and I . . .” Gloria suddenly seemed too choked up to speak, and with a wave of her hand, she quit the room, the distinctive sound of additional sniffs trailing after her.

  Zayne swallowed past the large lump that had formed in his throat and summoned up a smile. “I think she’s happy to have both of us back.”

  Agatha muttered something once again under her breath before she rose and began cleaning up the tea and toast.

  “Agatha, what’s the matter?”

  She put the teacup on the cart before she resumed her seat and folded her hands in her lap. “Nothing, everything’s fine.”

  He considered her for a moment, taking in blue eyes that were suspiciously wet before she dropped her head and clenched her hands into fists. It hit him then, how very dear she was to him, even though she annoyed him on a remarkably frequent basis. They’d been the best of friends before he’d left to join Helena, and the idea that something was distressing her bothered him more than he could say. Agatha was a lady who rarely kept her thoughts to herself, but at the moment she was being unusually guarded.

  Clearing his throat, he struggled for something to say, something that would put a smile on her face. “I have to tell you that my mother was right about it being a fortunate day when you came into our lives,” he began, sucking in a sharp breath when her head shot up and a single tear trailed down her cheek.

  Alarm was immediate. He’d rarely seen Agatha cry, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was causing her to do so now. He leaned toward her. “Agatha, what in the world is wrong?”

  Blinking furiously, Agatha opened her mouth, but instead of words coming out, she released a strangled sob right before she buried her head in her hands and began to cry in earnest.

  Helena had cried at the drop of a hat, and he’d always known exactly how to soothe her, but this was Agatha, and he had no idea what to do, say, or anything. He looked up when he heard something by the door and caught his mother’s appalled gaze. When he opened his mouth to summon her in to help him sort matters out, she placed a finger over her lips, shook her head, and closed the door, leaving him completely alone with Agatha, who was sobbing harder than ever.

  It seemed a somewhat peculiar thing for his mother to do.

  Realizing he was completely on his own, he swallowed past another pesky lump in his throat. “Are you upset because you don’t like people telling you they appreciate you?”

  Additional sobs were her only response to that question. He tried again. “You must realize that you’ve done me a huge favor by getting me home, even if I was somewhat surly about it at the time.”

  Her head lifted, and with tears pouring down her cheeks, she shuddered and her eyes looked a little wild. “I didn’t do you a favor, Zayne. I almost got you killed. I’m a menace—a menace, I say—and . . . and . . . and . . . you should never forgive me for trying to save you.” She shuddered again. “When I saw your body lying there in the street, I thought you were . . . dead.” Covering her face with her hands, she began sobbing again, the sobs only stopping when she’d gulp in a breath of air every few seconds.

  He sat frozen on the bed, watching her cry as if her heart were breaking. His heart, or rather the armor he’d carefully wrapped around it, suddenly cracked, and pain pulsed through his veins. Agatha was infuriating at times, and yes, occasionally she was a menace, but she was the kindest lady he knew and generous to a fault. He couldn’t sit by and watch her drown in guilt over something that she shouldn’t be feeling guilty about in the first place.

  “I knew you’d decided to try and save me, even though I told you I didn’t want your assistance,” he said softly.

  “I wasn’t exactly subtle about it,” she mumbled through her hands.

  “You weren’t wrong to try.”

  The hands fell away, revealing a wet and splotchy face. Agatha was not a lady who cried daintily, and when she let out a watery snort, he pulled at the sheet covering him and held out a corner. “You might want to use this to blow your nose.”

  Swiping at her nose with her sleeve, she frowned. “I can’t use that. We’d have to change the sheets then, and since you’re really heavy with that cast on, changing your sheets is not an easy task. Believe me, I’ve done it.”

  “You changed my sheets?”

  “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands while you’ve been sleeping.”

  Relief settled over him when he realized she’d stopped crying. He snatched up the napkin he’d been using while he ate his toast and held it up. Agatha eyed it for a moment, got up from the chair, and moved to take it. He patted the bed. “Why don’t you sit beside me for a moment?”

  “You shouldn’t even want me in the same room with you, let alone right next to you.”

  They evidently hadn’t moved past her distress. “Come on, Agatha, sit down. I need someone to hold my hand.”

  “I almost got you killed and you want me to hold your hand?”

  “You and I have gotten into too many scrapes to count, that almost saw both of us killed. Why you’re allowing this latest incident to bother you so much is beyond me.”

  To his surprise, she perched on the bed and even allowed him to take her hand. “I thought I really had killed you this time, and even though it might seem as if I disregard your life all too often, especially with that dynamite business, well, I never really wanted you dead.”

  He squeezed her hand. “That’s very comforting to know.”

  “Stop making light of this. I’m a horrible person. I meddle in everything, do so because I always think I know best, but I’m done with that for good.”

  She sniffed and blew her nose into the napkin, causing one side of his lip to curl when it suddenly became clear that, not only didn’t Agatha cr
y in a dainty fashion, she certainly didn’t blow her nose that way either.

  “You meddle because you’re usually right.”

  She waved the napkin in the air. “Stop humoring me. I’ve caused you to suffer tremendous pain. I’ve sat here day after day while you’ve moaned in your sleep.”

  “I don’t remember being in pain.”

  “Well, you were, and that’s what matters.”

  “My leg is going to be better now.”

  “You told me back in Colorado that you weren’t keen to experience the agony of breaking your leg again, but since I dragged you back here, that’s exactly what happened.” A loud hiccup escaped her mouth.

  She was pathetic and adorable, and he couldn’t bear to see her in so much distress. “I feel great now.”

  Arching a brow, she took a moment to blow her nose again. “That’s just because you’re still under the effects of that medicine. You’re going to be stuck in that bed for days, and then you’ll be in a cast until Christmas.”

  “But after that I’ll be able to walk, and probably without pain.”

  “You don’t like to be stuck in bed.”

  “It won’t be so bad, and since you’re stuck in the house as well, you can keep me company.”

  “Stop being so nice to me.” Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes.

  Stifling the urge to laugh, Zayne tilted his head. “Your face gets really blotchy when you cry, and when you blow your nose, you sound like a duck.”

  “What?”

  “You told me to stop being nice to you, but that’s the best I can come up with on such short notice.”

  The tears stopped in an instant as Agatha raised the napkin and blew her nose again, lowering it a moment later. “You’re very strange sometimes.”

  “True, and it seems I’m mistaken sometimes as well. You sound more like a goose than a duck when you blow your nose.”

  The faintest hint of a grin flickered over Agatha’s face. “You really don’t have to be nice to me. It’s my fault you’re lying in that bed. If I’d simply left you back in Colorado, you’d—”

  “I’d be digging in the dirt every day, by myself, without your charming company, and I wouldn’t be facing an optimistic future.” He smiled. “Besides, I like being nice to you occasionally. It makes for a pleasant change of pace.”

  “You really are still under the effects of that medicine, aren’t you?”

  Prying the napkin out of her hand, Zayne wiped the last of her tears away and smiled. “I can be nice when I set my mind to it.”

  “You should hate me right about now.”

  “We’re not discussing this further, and if you keep arguing with me, you’re bound to distress me, and I’ll have to tell Dr. Gessler, and then you’ll be in trouble.”

  Giving another watery snort, Agatha got off the bed and returned to her chair. “Dr. Gessler really is very hopeful about your leg.”

  “Which pleases me to no end, but enough about me and my leg. Tell me more about this person who almost killed both of us.”

  To his relief, that had Agatha squaring her shoulders and color returning to her cheeks. “I don’t know anything. Mr. Blackheart has gone undercover, per Theodore’s request, and is even now trolling around the slums searching for information. No one on the street at the time of the attack could identify the driver, and no one saw where the carriage went after it almost ran us over. Theodore thinks it was a well-laid- out plan to kill me, even though it wasn’t quite successful, since I’m still alive.”

  Zayne frowned. “What happened to Matilda? I remember the reason you ran into the street was to fetch her.”

  “She’s fine, but she’s staying with my mother at the moment. Gloria made the huge mistake of serving ham the other day, and Matilda was inconsolable. When she kept trying to escape the house through any open door, my mother finally offered to take her back to her house.”

  “You’re giving up a lot to stay here with me, aren’t you?”

  Her red eyes widened. “Of course not. As I’ve said numerous times, it’s my fault you’re laid up, and if you really don’t mind my company, I’ll be more than happy to stay with you while you’re awake and help you pass the time.”

  He refused to groan. “What do you mean, while I’m awake?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Agatha . . . ?”

  His eyes narrowed as she sent an all too obvious glance to the black box containing her whiskers and then looked back at him right before she began batting her wet lashes at him.

  “Out with it,” he demanded.

  “Out with what?”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll have Mother summon Theodore, and then I’ll tell him you’re up to something, and I’ll have her summon Mr. Blackheart as well.”

  “I wasn’t planning on trying to find who wants to kill me,” she said in a small voice.

  “But?”

  “I just thought, given that I know I’ll go crazy if I have to stay inside too long, that I would don a disguise and see if I could run Willie down.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Well, no, not yet, but again that is a distinct possibility if I’m stuck away here for too much longer.” She smiled. “I was planning on taking Drusilla with me, and . . . Did I mention the little fact that Drusilla isn’t just a paid companion? In fact, she’d never been a companion at all until she took up that position with me.” Her smile widened. “She works for Theodore, and she hasn’t admitted this to me yet, but I think she might have been a spy along with her husband when he was alive.”

  “I had no idea,” Zayne began, before he realized exactly what Agatha was trying to do. “But we’ll have plenty of time to discuss Drusilla and her sneaky ways right after you promise me you won’t go looking for Willie.”

  “You’re the one who said bringing him on to help you repair the mine was a good idea.”

  “And I still think it’s a good idea, but how about if you agree to wait until I’m on my feet and then we’ll both go looking for him together.”

  “That’ll be months from now.”

  “I thought you said my cast might come off by Christmas?”

  “Which is still months from now since it’s just mid-October.”

  “I think your math’s a little sketchy.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Agatha smiled. “But it would make such a wonderful early Christmas present for Willie if we could find him and you could make him the offer, and . . .”

  Agatha continued pointing out all the reasons she should go out on her own to find Willie as Zayne simply stared at her. She was like a dog with a bone when she got something in her head, and she wasn’t easy to distract once she had a firm grip of that bone, which meant . . . he really was going to have to step in and save her from herself once and for all.

  The only plausible way to do that, the only one that made any sense, was finding her a strong and sensible gentleman to keep her in line.

  Swallowing past the sour taste that had immediately filled his mouth the moment his original plan flashed to mind, Zayne sorted through his limited options. Given his current condition, he wasn’t exactly able to go to any society events to handpick a beau for Agatha, but he could make use of his mother. Gloria was a fountain of information when it came to society matters. But she’d always been vocal in her desire to see him attached to Agatha, even when Helena had still been around, and that might be problematic. However, even his mother would have to realize, given the danger Agatha was in, that they needed to act quickly, and—

  “Are you listening to me?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  “What did I just say?”

  “Drusilla’s a spy.”

  “That was three topics ago.”

  “Ah, well, no, I wasn’t listening.”

  “There’ll be little point in my keeping you company if you’re not going to listen to what I have to say.”

  By the snippy tone of her voice, it was clear she�
��d put her distress behind her and had returned to the Agatha he knew and enjoyed. No . . . he really shouldn’t dwell on how much he enjoyed her. He knew he wasn’t her perfect match, since he’d sworn off ladies forever. The perfect gentleman was out there—a gentleman who would keep her safe, who would shower her with so much attention she’d forget all about her ridiculous plans. All he had to do was locate that gentleman, or . . . maybe he’d already found him.

  “Does Mr. Blackheart stop by here often?” he asked, causing her to frown.

  “No, I haven’t seen him since the day after your accident. Why?”

  Even though Mr. Blackheart had vehemently refused to consider forming a relationship other than a professional one with Agatha, he was a strong man, and he might, if Agatha found him somewhat agreeable, be convinced to change his mind about her—because who could resist Agatha?

  “What do you think about him?”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Blackheart—do you find him attractive?”

  “Maybe I should ring for the doctor.”

  “I’m not suffering a relapse, Agatha. I’m just curious.”

  “What I think of Mr. Blackheart is, well, complicated.”

  “Ah, so you do find him attractive.”

  Agatha got up and moved toward the door. “I’m going to go send for Dr. Gessler.” Without allowing him another chance to argue, she rushed from the room.

  Blowing out a breath, he leaned back against the pillow. She wasn’t going to make things easy—that was evident. And since it might take more time than he’d first thought to cultivate his plan properly, he needed a way to distract her once again, a way that would keep her safe.

  Satisfaction had him smiling as the perfect solution sprang to mind. She was even now on her way to summon Dr. Gessler because she thought he’d suffered a relapse. It was clear that the only solution available to him was what he and Mr. Blackheart had discussed before his accident. He was going to have to wholeheartedly embrace the role of an invalid.

  Leaning forward as far as he could, he held his face close to the gas lamp on his bedside table, his smile widening when he felt his face heat. Footsteps clicking down the hallway had him back against the pillows, but not before he stuck his fingers into a glass of water someone had thoughtfully left for him. He flicked the water over his face and then realized he was still smiling. He’d only just pressed his lips into a firm line when Agatha walked back into the room.