by Jen Turano
Helena began to pout. “I don’t care to discuss Gilbert.”
“I’m afraid I must insist, since you’ve gone to great lengths to get away from him and done a fairly nice job of ruining my life.”
“Your life isn’t ruined, Zayne.”
“If you’ve caused me to lose Agatha, yes it is.”
“That’s the lady in the purple dress? The one you were about to give my ring to?”
“It was never your ring, but getting back to Gilbert—what happened?”
“I told you, I don’t care to discuss him.”
“Then I can’t waste any more time on you.” Reaching for his crutches, he pulled himself out of the chair and headed for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Helena demanded.
“I need to find Agatha and make matters right with her.”
“You can’t just walk away from me.”
Moving forward, he looked over his shoulder. “I think you’ll find out soon enough that I can.” He’d almost made it to the door when Helena let out a loud wail and dissolved into a fit of weeping that could have earned her a role on any stage.
It was one of her favorite ploys to get her way, and he’d humored her over the years by giving in to her. Those days, however, were long gone, and he had more important matters to attend to, mainly getting to Agatha and begging her forgiveness.
“I say, sir, what have you done to Miss Collins?”
Zayne froze as a man suddenly hustled through the door and brushed past him in a blur, obviously intent on getting to Helena. Turning, Zayne felt his mouth drop open when Helena’s sobs came to an immediate end right as she jumped up from the settee and plopped her hands on her hips.
“What are you doing here, Gilbert?” she demanded.
Zayne knew his mouth was still gaping open, but he didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to snap it shut. He’d never seen the man Helena had left him for but had conjured up an image in his mind. This man, however, was nothing like that image. He’d expected Helena’s love to be tall, broad-shouldered, and incredibly handsome, but Gilbert possessed none of those qualities. He was short—shorter than Helena—had not a single hair on his head, wore gold-rimmed spectacles, and his clothing was rumpled and ill-fitting, although, to give the man credit, he had a very nice smile.
The pale green eyes behind the spectacles held a trace of amusement as the gentleman gazed rather fondly at Helena, even as he continued to smile.
“I’ve come to fetch you back, my darling,” he crooned.
“How did you get to me so fast?” Helena shot back.
“I was on the same train as you, although I was careful to never allow you to see me.”
Helena narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need fetching. Zayne’s the gentleman for me now, and I’ll have you know, he’s never been mean to me. . . . Well, except for today, and he almost always grants me my dearest wishes.”
Zayne’s mouth finally closed as the reasoning behind Helena’s appearance in his life became clear. She’d been thwarted by this unassuming gentleman standing before him, and she was miffed.
“You don’t really mean that, dear,” Gilbert said. “But I’ve been pondering your latest request, and though I find it a bit extravagant to travel over to Europe for our honeymoon, I truly do wish to make you happy. I’ve taken it upon myself to purchase us tickets, and as soon as we’ve exchanged vows, we can be on our way.”
Helena stuck her nose in the air. “I’m not marrying you. You were horrid to me, as were my parents, and I’m staying in New York, with Zayne.” She let out a sniff. “Besides, I didn’t simply want to travel to Europe—I wanted you to buy me a house in Paris.”
“Yes, I clearly remember that outrageous request.”
“And are you willing to give in to that little request in order to win my hand?”
“No.”
“Then I’m staying here with Zayne.”
“Will he buy you a house in Paris?” Gilbert asked, his eyes now clearly brimming with amusement, even though Helena had taken to pouting again.
“Probably not,” she finally admitted.
Gilbert tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “I suppose you’re facing a bit of a dilemma, then. You can agree to marry me and travel to Europe for our honeymoon, or you can stay here with this gentleman, who doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by your presence, and never see me again.”
“I didn’t say I never wanted to see you again,” Helena said slowly.
“You left me.”
“Only because I really want that house in Paris.”
“It’s your choice darling, me or a house in Paris.”
“You have enough money,” Helena said, her pout becoming more pronounced. “I don’t understand why you won’t just buy me what I want.”
“Because I love you too much to give in to you all the time, and it’s past time you, my love, grew up.”
Zayne could hear the tick of the clock on the wall as Helena glared at Gilbert, but she finally blew out a breath. “Fine, I’ll marry you and you can take me off on a European honeymoon, but I’m not happy about it.”
“Of course you’re not, darling,” Gilbert said, moving to take her arm. “Shall we go find someone to marry us? I’m sure for the right price some minister out there won’t mind doing the job.”
“Right now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yes, but if we find someone to marry us tonight, we can leave on our honeymoon in the morning.”
“And then we’ll get to Europe sooner,” Helena breathed.
“That’s why I adore you, my darling girl—you’re so smart,” Gilbert said. He sent a nod to Zayne and turned to Gloria but didn’t have a chance to nod to her because she was moving toward Helena, her expression furious.
“That’s it?” Gloria demanded. “You come waltzing back to New York, ruin my son’s life by interrupting his proposal to Agatha, and then you’re simply going to run off, marry another gentleman, and go take in the sights in Europe?”
Helena dropped Gilbert’s arm, and much to Zayne’s surprise, went to meet Gloria in the middle of the room. “Mrs. Beckett, I doubt you really want me to linger, but I do owe you and, more importantly, your son an apology.” Helena glanced to Zayne. “You were always too honorable for your own good, my friend, but you’re right. We wouldn’t make each other happy, and you deserve to be happy. I’m sorry if I caused you some difficulty with that lady in the purple dress.”
“Good heavens, darling, what have you done?” Gilbert asked.
Not particularly wanting to watch Helena dive right back into a dramatic performance, Zayne took one step forward. “It doesn’t matter, Gilbert.” He nodded to Helena. “Go, get married, and try not to drive this nice gentleman insane.”
For a second, Helena’s eyes turned misty, one of the few times he’d ever seen true tears in them. “I am sorry,” she whispered, moving closer to him to kiss his cheek before she returned to Gilbert’s side and took his arm. “Shall we go?”
Gilbert chucked her under the chin and smiled. “Indeed we shall.” With that, they walked through the door, disappearing from sight.
“I must say, that’s one of the oddest scenes I’ve ever witnessed,” Gloria said. “At least you’ve finally been shown Helena’s true character, something I’ve been asking God to show you for years.”
Zayne smiled. “He’s been showing me a lot lately.”
“Such as the fact you’re in love with Agatha?”
Before Zayne could reply, Eliza stepped into the room, looking a bit bemused. “I just saw Helena getting into a carriage with a gentleman I’ve never seen before.”
“That’s Gilbert, Helena’s fiancé,” he told her. “She’s off to Europe after they get married.”
“Huh, well, good for her, or rather, good for you. One less complication in your life will be wonderful.” She stepped closer and gave him a hug. “What are you going to do about Agatha?”
“Once I
find her, I’m hoping to extend her an extraordinary proposal.”
“Make it good, Zayne. Agatha’s my best friend, and you’ve hurt her, badly this time I think.”
Zayne nodded. “I know, and I promise you I’m going to make it up to her, but first I need to find her.”
“Cora told me she went out for some air, but I think she went to get that air with Mr. Blackheart and Drusilla.”
“At least she’ll be safe with them.”
“Well, it is Agatha, but . . .” She looked around the room. “Where’s Piper?”
“I thought she was with you,” Gloria said.
“I thought she was with you,” Eliza countered. “Didn’t she ride back here in your carriage after the dinner party?”
Gloria shook her head. “The last time I saw her, she was trying to calm Matilda down in Cora’s drawing room with Lily and Grace.”
“She must still be over at the Watson house,” Zayne said. “She adores Matilda, and I can see her losing track of time and forgetting she’s supposed to ride home with someone. I’m going there now, so I’ll get her and bring her home to you, Eliza.”
The sound of running feet had Zayne swiveling on his crutches and facing the door, right as his sister, Arabella, lumbered into the room, her face white and her breathing labored.
“Good heavens, Arabella, what are you doing out tonight?” he demanded. “You’re in no condition to be out in the cold.”
Arabella drew in a gulp of air, rubbed her incredibly large stomach, and then, with tears flowing down her beautiful face, she opened her mouth. “Theodore just received disturbing news, and since he needed to leave right away, I was the only one around to let you know.” She drew in another gulp of air. “Drusilla’s been shot, Jeffrey Murdock is unconscious, and Francis has been injured as well.”
“And Agatha?” He forced the question through lips that had gone stiff.
“She’s gone.”
19
The strange thought kept tumbling through Agatha’s mind that, instead of being terrified—something she really should be, given her current situation—she was mostly just confused.
After she’d been thrown into a waiting carriage—her hands and feet bound and a gag stuffed into her mouth, effectively cutting off her screams—she’d then been taken, not deeper into the slums, but to a perfectly respectable house right on Park Avenue. If she wasn’t mistaken, the house she was currently being held in wasn’t far from her own house on Fifth Avenue.
Finding herself dumped in a room painted in soft blue with matching furniture had been confusing in and of itself, but when she’d come face-to-face with Mary only minutes after being deposited in a seat, she thought she’d begun to make sense of everything . . . until it became perfectly clear that Mary hadn’t been expecting her.
In fact, that woman was currently ranting at the thug who’d abducted her in the entranceway, and from what Agatha could discern, Mary wasn’t the one behind the attack. The biggest question left now was . . . who was?
Eyeing Jessie, who was pointing a pistol her way, Agatha mumbled against the gag that was still lodged firmly in her mouth.
“Stop talking,” Jessie demanded, waving the pistol in the air.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm.”
“You might as well ungag her,” Hannah said from her position by the window. “She might know something.”
“What would she know?” Jessie asked.
“We’ll never find out the answer to that if she can’t talk.”
“Oh, right,” Jessie said, moving up to Agatha and pulling the gag out of her mouth.
Moistening her lips with a tongue that was incredibly dry, Agatha swallowed. “May I have some water?”
“You want water?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother,” she rasped.
“Fine.” Spinning on her heel, Jessie moved to a pitcher, poured out a glass, and returned to hand it to Agatha.
“You’ll need to untie my hands.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, quite frankly, I would.”
Tipping the glass to Agatha’s lips, Jessie held it there while water sloshed over Agatha’s face, but she managed to finally get a sip and then pulled back. “Thank you.”
“Humph,” was all Jessie said as she stomped away to put the glass on a table.
“Do either of you know what happened to the people I was with earlier?” Agatha asked. “Drusilla was shot, but I don’t know how badly.”
Jessie and Hannah exchanged nervous glances and then Jessie strode to the door. “Mary, you’d better get in here and listen to this.”
“I’m busy.”
“Now!” Jessie yelled back.
Less than five seconds later, Mary stormed into the room. “What?”
“Miss Watson just told us some fool shot a woman.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed before she stepped closer. “Is she dead?”
“I have no idea since I wasn’t presented with an opportunity to linger because someone was in a hurry to deliver me to you.”
“This complicates matters.”
“I’m sure it does, although shooting people is your line of business, isn’t it, Mary?”
“I’ve been rethinking my career choice of late,” Mary mumbled, beginning to pace around the room. “Was anyone else hurt?”
“Possibly Mr. Blackheart and Mr. Murdock.”
Mary stopped pacing. “Mr. Murdock, as in one of the society Murdocks?”
“The very same.”
Rubbing a hand over her face, Mary let out a grunt. “This is a disaster.”
“I thought you wanted me dead,” Agatha began slowly. “Isn’t that why I’ve been brought to you?”
“As I said before, I’ve been considering a bit of a lifestyle change, and you’ll be relieved to learn I no longer have any desire to kill you.”
“That’s reassuring, but . . . you won’t get paid until you complete the job you were hired to do.”
“I have reason to believe I wasn’t going to get paid even if I had managed to kill you, and I have little reason to believe that will change now. The man who hired me seems to have no moral compass, and I do believe he might be setting me up right now to take a huge fall.” She smiled grimly. “Which is why I won’t be killing you tonight.”
“Isn’t it almost morning?”
“It’s approaching one o’clock, so I suppose it is morning. I’ll clarify by saying I don’t intend to kill you today.” She shook her head. “You’re remarkably difficult to kill anyway, which has aggravated me to no end, but in an odd way, your unwillingness to die has given me a certain respect for you which is, again, why I can’t kill you now.”
“You could always just let me go. I don’t live far from here.”
“Believe me, I’d love to be able to do that, but there’s more than one man watching the house at the moment, so I’m afraid I can’t let you go. I have a feeling these men would shoot you on sight, even though it’s clear someone wants me to do the dirty deed.”
Agatha tilted her head. “Who is that someone?”
“I don’t know his name, have never met the man face-to-face, since our transaction was done through a common contact on the streets. Most of us, in my business, prefer to handle matters as delicately and as discreetly as possible. Besides, learning a client’s name makes our business even more dangerous, especially if that client decides we know too much.” Mary began to pace around the room. “It’s evident my client believes I’m still interested in killing you, but I can’t help thinking, if I were to go through with your murder, a swarm of policemen would soon arrive after the deed was done and take me away.”
Agatha nodded. “You’re being set up.”
“Indeed,” Mary agreed as she stopped pacing. “Where did that man find you, the one who brought you here?”
“In a brothel. We’d gotten a tip that you and your girls were hiding there.”
“We never hid out in a broth
el. I rented this place the moment we reached New York.” She smiled. “Mr. Beckett’s lovely gold has allowed us to live in style, although that style has been restricted ever since the B. Altman’s incident.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t leave right after that.”
Mary released a grunt. “We would have if that annoying Mr. Wilder hadn’t been scouring the streets for us. His reputation precedes him, so we thought it best to just lay low here for a while.” Mary walked to Agatha’s side, pulled out a knife and sliced through Agatha’s bindings, freeing her hands. “We’re going to have to work together.”
Agatha blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m going to have to figure out the identity of the man who hired me to kill you, which means you’re going to have to tell me who wants to harm you.”
“How much time do we have?” Agatha asked before she launched into the very long list of people who might want her dead, finishing up a few minutes later. She winced when she realized Mary, Jessie, and Hannah were all watching her with wide eyes and looks of disbelief on their faces.
“Maybe we really should just go ahead and kill her,” Hannah said. “Might be doing her a favor since we’d do it quickly instead of drawing out her death like some of those people she mentioned might want to do.”
Mary’s lips curved. “We’re not killing her. That’s exactly what someone wants us to do, but I’m not going to play his game.”
“And because of that, you can just keep Mr. Beckett’s gold that you stole from him,” Agatha said.
“That’s generous of you.”
“I’m not really in accord with the man at the moment.”
Mary surprised her when she laughed. “I’ll be back,” the woman tossed over her shoulder as she made for the door. “Don’t let her go anywhere. I have a feeling she’s safest with us at the moment.”
That was a less than comforting thought.
“Who told you we were hiding in a brothel?” Jessie asked.
“A trusted contact of mine.”
“She doesn’t sound all that trustworthy.”
Not willing to dwell on Dot and the idea that she might have been responsible for Agatha’s capture and the damage done to her friends, Agatha simply shrugged.