by Jen Turano
Her mother was going to have an absolute fit when she learned of the afternoon’s outcome.
As the policeman who had hold of her arm tightened his grip, Felicia winced, knowing full well she was sure to have bruises come morning. “My good man,” she finally said, “I assure you, there is no need to hold me so tightly. I’m not going to make a mad dash in a foolish attempt to escape.”
The policeman turned his head and nodded at a fellow officer who was tugging Agatha along. “I hate dealing with opium eaters. Their grasp of reality is severely limited.”
Felicia released a snort. “I’m not an opium eater, thank you very much, and again, I’d appreciate it if you’d loosen your grip.”
The policeman came to an abrupt stop, swung her around to face him, and took a moment to consider her. His gaze traveled to her hat, then to her face, where he took a great deal of time to examine her whiskers. He turned his attention to her jacket and then leaned over to peruse her shoes. He finally straightened. “You’re a girl.”
“I prefer lady, but who am I to split hairs at this particular moment.”
The policeman glanced to Agatha. “You’re a girl too, aren’t you?”
Agatha lifted her chin. “I’m a reporter for the New-York Tribune, and the lady you’re holding is my assistant. If you’ll allow me to get into my pocket, I have proof.”
“Good thinking, Agatha. Show them the proof, and then perhaps we won’t have to continue on to jail.”
“I’ve heard some strange excuses to explain why miscreants are in places they really ought not to be, but this one takes the cake,” the policeman muttered before he prodded Felicia back into motion again. “Do you think we should put them in the wagon with the other men, or should we take them to the one with the ladies?”
“Better make it the ladies,” the policeman who was once again dragging Agatha by his side said. “If you ask me, these raids are much more trouble than they’re worth. Sure, the city will get some cash from our efforts today, especially from the owner of that den, but quite honestly, I think our efforts would be better spent tracking down real criminals.”
“Opium’s illegal,” the policeman holding Felicia returned. “Rules are rules.”
“It is illegal to bring opium into the country,” Agatha said. “I looked it up last night in a book from my father’s library, but local laws vary. I couldn’t find anything clearly stating that opium dens are illegal in the city of New York.”
“I guess you’ll have to take that up with the judge.”
Felicia heard Agatha begin to mutter under her breath, but she couldn’t tell what her friend was saying, and since her policeman was now prodding her forward at a more hurried clip, she wasn’t able to move closer to Agatha to hear. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of a police wagon, and her nerves were beginning to make themselves known.
“Did you hear Larry found a man dressed up like a woman?” Agatha’s policeman suddenly asked.
“You find all sorts of nasty business in Posey’s.”
Apparently Zayne had been captured as well.
“What did the man have to say for himself?”
“Not much. He seemed to be the strong, silent type.” The policeman chuckled. “They put him in the wagon reserved for women though, didn’t want to deal with the ruckus the other men would make if they got a good look at him. He’s not what anyone could call attractive.”
That was odd. She’d thought Zayne made a somewhat lovely woman, if you discounted his large frame. Before she had a chance to voice that sentiment, she was roughly hauled into the back of an enclosed wagon, Agatha following her seconds later. Strong yet gentle hands helped her take a seat. She made room for Agatha and lifted her head. “Thank you, Zayne, it . . .”
All the breath seemed to squeeze from her body in a split second. Staring back at her were eyes she’d come to know only too well, but they didn’t belong to Zayne. Those eyes were currently narrowed on her face, and it was clearly evident Grayson was not exactly happy to see her as he loomed over her, having to almost double over in order to not hit his head on the low ceiling of the wagon.
“Lovely shawl,” Agatha said, breaking the awkward moment.
Felicia blinked when the person sitting next to Agatha sat forward. Zayne had been apprehended too.
“The shawl is to hide Grayson’s chest hair—something you, Agatha, really should have thought of before insisting I shave mine off.”
Agatha gave a sniff. “I would think that shaving allowed you to get into the true spirit of the role we asked you to assume, and you could have said no.”
Zayne’s mouth dropped open. “I did protest.”
“Obviously not adamantly enough,” Grayson muttered. “But at least you can take comfort that your hair will regrow.” He gestured to Felicia. “Scoot over.”
Seeing no reason to refuse, she edged over, allowing him to sit right next to her, the heat from his body warming her leg through the material of her trousers.
“Do you care to explain what you were doing in that opium den?” he asked.
“It’s a little tricky to explain.”
“Were you trying to dig up information regarding my past?”
She should have known he’d immediately come to that conclusion. “I readily admit I was curious about a few things, especially since you neglected to include several pertinent details regarding your past—such as the whole opium business.”
Zayne leaned even farther forward. “So you were involved in the opium trade?”
“Of course he was,” Agatha answered for him. “It all makes perfect sense if you think about it. Everyone knows Grayson had some type of tragic past, and if you add in the fact that he lived in China for years and he made a fortune there, well, the logical conclusion—especially since he’s been somewhat cagey about the whole mess—is that he was connected with the opium trade.”
“If you’re in with the opium gents, ma’am, can I hope you have some of the stuff on you?”
Felicia swung her attention to the lady who’d just spoken and found the woman swaying on the seat, her eyes dazed, yet her expression eager.
“I don’t use opium, nor do I have any on me,” Grayson said.
“Pity,” the lady replied before she nodded and then, to Felicia’s dismay, slid off the seat and landed on the floor of the wagon, where she promptly curled into a ball and went to sleep.
Everything Felicia had witnessed in the opium den suddenly sprang to mind. She’d seen men and women stumbling about, some of them begging others for just one more draw from a pipe when it appeared their money had run out. Speech had been slurred, eyes had been red, and for the life of her, Felicia couldn’t understand the appeal of the drug. She also couldn’t understand, or perhaps she could but didn’t want to admit it yet, exactly why Grayson would have gotten involved with something so disturbing.
Grayson suddenly patted her knee. “You’re disappointed with me.”
“I’m not certain I would go that far, especially considering I have yet to fully understand what your part was with the opium trade.”
For a moment, it seemed he wasn’t going to reply, but then he released a breath, withdrew his hand from her knee, and settled back against the rough walls of the police wagon.
“I was in charge of distribution.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I made sure the Wu family’s opium was delivered to every country that wanted it.”
Her stomach clenched as the truth stole into her very soul.
She’d been trying to ignore the idea that Grayson could have really done anything truly reprehensible, but there it was, from his own mouth.
He’d provided a drug that obviously ruined countless lives on a daily basis, and from what she’d been able to piece together, he’d made a fortune in the process.
Every warm and fuzzy feeling she’d felt toward the gentleman disappeared in the span of a heartbeat.
“Do y
ou have any remorse?”
“More than I can express.”
She caught his eye, saw the despair clearly visible, but refused to allow the sight to move her.
She’d known he was dangerous, known he’d possessed a mysterious past, but she’d never thought he would have been capable of such things.
She swallowed and then spoke past the lump that had formed in her throat. “Did you ever consider the many lives you were ruining?”
The despair deepened in his eyes. “Not at all, at least not until after the Wu family was slaughtered. I had abundant time to think my life through on the boat ride back to England and then to America.”
He gestured to the woman still sleeping on the floor. “I realize now that the plight of that woman, and countless others just like her, is on some level my fault, but . . . there’s nothing I can do to change what I caused. I can only hope that someday I’ll learn to live with myself.”
Agatha cleared her throat. “I’m not one to make suggestions—well, not on a frequent basis—concerning matters of faith, Grayson, but did it ever occur to you to seek forgiveness from the one source that can help ease your guilt?”
“God has no reason to grant me peace, Agatha,” Grayson said softly. “And, quite frankly, I don’t exactly deserve any. Greed convinced me to look the other way and ignore the destruction my actions caused. I doubt God will be willing to forgive me anytime soon.”
“He will forgive you if you ask. And you could give away all the money you made in China, donate it to help the people who’ve become addicted to the drug you provided them,” Felicia said slowly.
Disappointment stole her breath away when he sent her a small shake of his head.
“The money I made working for Wu Wah Hing was substantial, and I took that money and sent it back to England, instructing a financial man of affairs to invest it in numerous ventures. During the long trip back to England from China, I began to realize that I wouldn’t be able to keep that money. Once I reached England, though, I immediately set sail for New York, convinced by Eliza’s ex-fiancé that it was imperative I seek out my sister immediately.
“Since she so capably restored our family finances by tracking down the thief who’d stolen it, and those finances provide me with more funds than I’ll ever be able to spend during my lifetime, I was then free to begin disbursing my ill-gotten fortune. I’ve spent substantial time determining charitable organizations to receive all the money my investments generated. I am no longer living off of any of that money.”
He sighed and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the police wagon wall. “I expect you will not agree with my reasoning, but I took the initial amount I made from working in China and set up a special account for Ming. That money is her inheritance, and even though it was made through reprehensible means, it’s hers, and I intend to keep it that way.
“We’ll never be able to claim the fortune she deserves that’s back in China, but at least she’ll have money of her own to see her through life. And quite honestly, she’s going to need it as a way to force people to accept her in a white world.”
He was right. She didn’t agree with his reasoning, but she couldn’t say she didn’t understand it. Ming would always be seen as different in America—or anywhere else she chose to go, unless she returned to China someday—but money would allow her to be more readily accepted.
She opened her mouth—to say what, she had no idea—but then Agatha leaned forward once again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Grayson, but I think there was more to you accepting that position with the Wu family than simply greed. While the lure of a fortune would surely have been appealing to a young man fresh out of university, there had to have been something else.”
Grayson smiled a rather sad smile. “It seems you always search for the good in everyone, Agatha, but I don’t think you’ll be able to find anything good about my decision. Was there something besides greed that prompted me to pursue a fortune? Certainly. In the back of my mind, I thought that if I could obtain a fortune all on my own, my father would develop a bit of respect for me and possibly come to regret the harsh manner in which he’d tried to control me. However, that reasoning seems almost silly when you take into account the lengths I went to procure money.
“In case you’ve forgotten, besides immersing myself in the opium trade, I also married a woman I didn’t know, and a woman I never even bothered to attempt to converse with.”
“If you were planning on impressing your father with your success, may I assume you were considering a return to England at some point?” Felicia asked.
“In the beginning, no, I was too consumed with work, but it wasn’t long before the allure of China began to fade and I found myself missing the land of my birth.”
“Why did you wait so long?” Felicia pressed. “Eliza told me you were gone for years.”
“I discovered it’s next to impossible to get out of China. I was indebted to a man who had no intention of allowing me to leave.”
“He probably didn’t want you to take his daughter out of the country.”
“Wu Wah Hing cared nothing for Lin. His only concern was losing a means to secure profitable routes for his opium. If he hadn’t been murdered, I’d probably still be there.”
Grayson’s eyes turned hard. “Their deaths were my fault. I got entirely too self-assured, made reckless choices. I managed to wrest a whole fleet of ships along with their routes away from the Zang family, the biggest rivals of the Wus, and because of that, Wu Wah Hing, my wife, her sister and Francisco, a good twenty other relatives, and countless servants were slaughtered in retaliation for my arrogance.”
Although he’d spoken the words in a rather casual manner, there was a world of anguish behind them.
“I’ve distressed you.”
Felicia forced herself to meet Grayson’s gaze. “You have.”
“You needed to hear the full truth. At least now you understand why I initially balked when Agatha suggested I escort you to the Beckett ball. No good can come of associating with me. Even though I enjoy your company more than I can say, we need to part ways once and for all after we get out of this mess. You’re too good, too innocent, and a lady like you deserves better than me.”
She knew he spoke nothing less than the truth—well, not the part about her being too good and innocent—but . . . for some reason, the thought of never having him in her life again sent a sharp ache directly through her heart.
“I never intended to place you in danger,” Grayson said softly. “For that, I can only extend to you my most sincere apologies and hope that I’m mistaken, that those men who came to the Wild Rose did not recognize me. And if they did, I pray they didn’t realize you were with me.”
Zayne blew out a breath. “I do beg everyone’s pardon, but what is going on? What danger is Felicia in and why?”
Grayson took a moment to explain, and as he explained, Felicia allowed her thoughts to wander, returning to the distressing details Grayson had revealed.
He was obviously tormented about what he’d done, but his admissions had disturbed her more than she cared to admit. He’d carelessly put his own greed, his own desires, before everyone else’s, even going so far as to marry a woman for nothing more than financial gain. Didn’t it stand to reason, then, that he deserved just a bit of the torment that plagued him?
From out of nowhere, she felt as if someone had smacked her across the head. She glanced around, yet everyone was directing their attention to Grayson, who was still explaining.
Forgiveness.
She looked at the ceiling of the wagon, peering up at it as she strained her ears.
Nothing came to her except the idea that God was apparently trying to tell her something, something that concerned forgiveness.
She wasn’t certain she had forgiveness in her at the moment, but . . . she blinked as another word entered her mind.
Judgmental.
Disgruntlement was immediate, even though she knew perfect
ly well that, if God was sending her messages, He was spot on with that particular assessment.
She was being judgmental, and a little bit sanctimonious, if the truth were known, but Grayson had had a direct hand in ruining hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives. He’d admitted his actions had caused many people to be murdered. Did she feel justified in judging him? Certainly. But . . . could she forgive him? And was that what God expected her to do?
“. . . so last night, the face of one of the Chinese men sprang back to mind, and I finally remembered where I’d seen him before. He has a distinctive scar on his face, and . . . he worked for the Zang family,” Grayson said. “He’s the reason I went to the opium den today. I wanted to find out who owned the place. If the Zang family has anything to do with opium dens in this city, I’ll have to leave town immediately, because Ming won’t be safe for long. If they know she survived the fire and that she has been living with me, they won’t be satisfied until every last Wu is extinguished from the earth.”
Good heavens, while she’d been lost in thought, she’d apparently missed quite a bit.
“You recognized one of those men?” she asked.
Grayson nodded, but before he could say anything, the wagon slowed and rumbled to a stop. The door flung open, and she squinted as light poured in from outside.
“Come on, I haven’t got all day,” a policeman barked, causing her to scurry to the door. She wasn’t surprised when Grayson took her arm and helped her down.
It would be so much easier to dismiss the man if he’d stop being considerate.
He followed her a second later but then tripped on the hem of his gown and sprawled to the ground. The sight of his boots showing from beneath his skirt caused her lips to twitch just a touch. The amusement felt strange, given what she’d just learned, but when Zayne stepped in front of her to extend Grayson his hand, she couldn’t help but grin at the sight the two men made.