by Jen Turano
“That’s something you don’t see every day,” Agatha muttered before she took Felicia’s arm and moved her out of the way as other occupants of the wagon jumped or fell to the ground.
Felicia soon found herself walking in a less than straight line as the policeman directed them toward the jail. “Is this when they’ll put us in a cell?”
“I’m afraid so,” Grayson said before he stumbled once again and muttered something undetectable under his breath.
“It’s all in the stride,” Zayne said cheerfully. “Watch me.” He shook out the folds of his skirt and pranced ahead, sending Felicia and Agatha a smile. “See? It’s not that difficult.”
“Get back in line,” the policeman ordered.
Zayne dipped into a curtsy and resumed his place beside Grayson, his eyes twinkling ever so slightly.
“Zayne? Zayne Beckett, is that you?”
Zayne looked up and grinned even as he raised a frilly sleeve and began waving madly to someone Felicia couldn’t see.
“Theodore, yes, it’s me, Zayne.”
A moment later, Theodore came into view, striding their way, shaking his head. He came to a stop and slapped Zayne on the back.
“I must say I wasn’t expecting to find you here, and my, don’t you look lovely today.” Theodore switched his attention to Grayson, and his eyes went wide as he looked him up and down. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but red is definitely not your color.”
“Do you know these people, Mr. Wilder?” one of the policemen asked, walking over to join them.
“Yes, I know these two fine-looking ladies,” Theodore admitted.
“He knows us too,” Agatha said, speaking up as she stepped forward, drawing Theodore’s attention.
A sound that resembled nothing less than a snort escaped Theodore’s lips. “Honestly, Agatha, why am I not surprised to discover you here, and dressed as a man no less?” Not giving Agatha a chance to respond, he turned to Felicia right as his mouth dropped open. He turned back to Agatha. “What could you be thinking, pulling poor Felicia into one of your madcap adventures? You have a distinct talent for trouble, but there’s absolutely no reason to get Felicia involved in such a mess.”
Why was it that Theodore was not surprised at all to discover her soon-to-be cellmates in trouble but was seemingly appalled to find her in the midst of this disaster?
She lifted her chin. “Today’s madcap adventure was my idea, not Agatha’s, so if anyone seems to have a talent for trouble today, it would be me.” She lifted her chin another notch and ignored Theodore’s sputters. “If you must know, blame for our situation actually should be laid squarely at your and Grayson’s feet.”
Theodore stopped sputtering. “How do you reason that one out?”
“You and Grayson should have sought me out and given me pertinent information that would have kept me from being forced to search for that necessary information on my own today—well, with the help of Agatha and Zayne.” She drew in a deep breath, blew it out, and continued. “If I’d been given that information—such as why I might possibly be in danger and what Grayson’s past really entailed—I wouldn’t have even considered asking Agatha to do a story on opium dens, and then neither she nor I would be in this mess. Nor would Zayne.”
She tossed a glance to Grayson. “Although Grayson would still be in this mess—he didn’t travel with us to the opium den but went there on his own.”
Theodore ran a hand through his hair and suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. “All of you were at the opium den this afternoon?”
“Until the place was raided and we got hauled here,” Zayne said.
Theodore winced. “That’s unfortunate.”
Agatha planted her hands on her hips. “Were you responsible for that raid?”
“Well, not exactly. It was a police decision, but I might have prodded the decision along a bit, considering I met with the police chief this morning to see what he could tell me about that particular den.” Theodore shot a look to Grayson. “You might have let me know you were planning to investigate on your own. I would have made certain no raids took place until you were out of there.”
“But why raid it at all?” Agatha pressed. “What possible good could come of that?”
“I hoped they would pick up the men who run the place so I could talk to them and find out who owns it. That’s why I’m here. Although, I have to tell you, I didn’t expect they were going to cart all the patrons away.”
“Funds are running a little low,” the policeman muttered.
“Ah, well, good luck getting any money from the patrons,” Theodore said. “From what I know about opium eaters, they tend to be considerably low on funds most of the time.”
He stepped closer to the policeman. “Do you mind letting these people go with me? I assure you, they weren’t participating in anything untoward.”
The policeman’s lips curled. “Except maybe the manner in which they’re dressed.”
“True, but dressing as the opposite gender is not really arrest worthy, so if I have your permission, I’ll personally escort them to their respective homes.”
“By all means,” the policeman said. “It’ll save me some paperwork.” With that, he nodded, winced when he looked at Zayne and Grayson, and strode away.
“Shall we go to my carriage?” Theodore asked.
“Don’t you want to stay and question the employees of the opium den?” Grayson asked.
“Normally I would say yes, but I think it’s more important to get Felicia returned safely to her house.”
Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t let my situation dissuade you, Theodore. It’s not as if I’ll get into any other trouble today. If you feel the need to continue with your investigation, we can hire a carriage to take us home.”
“Surely you must realize that no driver in his right mind would allow you into his carriage, and besides, we need to get you home quickly.”
Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Why?”
Theodore cleared his throat. “I believe your mother might be under the impression you’re up to no good.”
“You’ve seen my mother?”
“She stopped by my office a few hours ago, looking for you. Apparently, she’d been to see Mrs. Watson, and because Cora was acting—your mother’s words, not mine—shifty, Ruth decided you were getting yourself involved in something you shouldn’t be involved in.” He smiled. “I told her you and Agatha were probably shopping, but since she started muttering all sorts of dire predictions under her breath, I don’t think she agreed with me.”
“Maybe you should see me home.”
“There’ll be no need for that, Miss Murdock. You’re coming with me.”
Dread was immediate as Felicia slowly turned and found Mr. Blackheart standing right behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“Searching for you. Your mother and I have been to all the shops you’ve been known to frequent and traveled through the tenement slums calling out your name. Finally I decided to check the jail. Imagine my surprise when I spotted Theodore standing right next to the lady I’m supposed to be guarding.”
“How did you recognize me?”
Mr. Blackheart quirked a brow and said absolutely nothing in response to that completely reasonable question.
Felicia swallowed and tried again. “You’re not, by any chance, here with my mother, are you?”
Mr. Blackheart smiled as a carriage Felicia knew only too well clattered over the cobblestones and came to a stop directly in front of them.
Ruth stuck her head out the window, her mouth dropped open for just a second as her gaze settled on Felicia, and then she began to yell, loudly.
Felicia felt an immediate urge to seek out the policeman once again and beg him to throw her behind bars.
15
Grayson eased into a chair in the middle of Eliza’s drawing room, enjoying the sight of Ming playing with one of her dolls. It was a relief to find her playing so calmly.
When he’d returned home last night, Ming’s nannies had informed him she’d been horrible all day, but he’d explained her bad behavior away, reasoning out that it had been her way of handling the sight of her father dressed as a woman.
Unfortunately, he was fresh out of explanations as to why she’d woken up bright and early that morning and proceeded to tear the house apart, flinging her toys and not minding the nannies at all, no matter that they spoke to her in soothing tones and tried to accommodate her every wish.
He’d finally been driven to bring Ming to Eliza’s house, hoping that being around her cousins, children she absolutely adored, would bring his sweet and lovable daughter back.
That hadn’t happened. She’d created havoc the moment he’d set her down in the entranceway, running straight up to Ben, Eliza’s son, and biting the boy’s arm. Biting another child was disturbing in and of itself, but Ben was Ming’s favorite person in the world, and that made the biting all that more concerning and proved there was something truly bothering her.
He had to figure out what that was.
Releasing a sigh, he settled back into the chair and considered how to proceed. He didn’t have much experience with children. He’d left England before any of his friends had married, and it wasn’t as if he and Lin ever considered having a child of their own. Though unspoken, they had agreed that their marriage was to be in name only.
“There you are, Grayson. Could you join me for a moment?”
Grayson looked away from Ming and found Eliza standing in the doorway. He rose to his feet, told the nanny sitting in a chair a few feet away from Ming that he’d be right back, and followed his sister into the hallway.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
Eliza nodded. “Everything’s fine. I was hoping you could help me look for a piece of jewelry. It’s probably right in front of my face, but perhaps a fresh pair of eyes will be able to pick it out.”
Grayson fell into step beside her, and they walked down the hallway and up a steep flight of stairs, entering her private suite of rooms a moment later. He admired the tasteful décor surrounding him. Eliza had somehow managed to turn the main room into a comfortable retreat, one that reflected both feminine and masculine tastes. It was the perfect spot for the still-somewhat newlyweds to seek out a bit of peace, because with one small boy and one very active little girl, they certainly needed a place where they could escape the hectic pace of their lives.
The house he rented a block away, even though it did bear the status of being on Fifth Avenue, lacked any vestige of charm and definitely couldn’t be considered a retreat. He’d been considering making a home purchase of his own, but he wasn’t certain New York was going to turn out to be the place he truly belonged.
Where he and Ming belonged, he couldn’t really say. Tensions were ever increasing between Chinese immigrants and the rest of the population in America. He knew it was only a matter of time before Ming suffered from the prejudice spreading throughout the nation, no matter the extent of the wealth he’d set aside for her.
He pulled himself from his thoughts when he realized Eliza was motioning him forward.
“I’m looking for that sapphire necklace Mother used to wear, the one in the shape of a lily with diamonds along the rim. It’s the one Father gave her when I was born. Do you remember it?”
He suddenly lost the ability to breathe. He blinked and then blinked again, trying to focus on the jewelry chest Eliza was gesturing toward, a jewelry chest apparently filled with jewelry once worn by his mother.
A deep sense of loss came from out of nowhere, hitting him hard, causing a wave of pain such as he’d never felt before to course over him.
His mother was dead, as was his father.
He’d mourned the death of his mother years before, but not until this precise moment had he fully realized what he’d lost. He’d never taken any time at all to mourn his father. They’d parted on horrendous terms, and yes, he’d been dismayed to learn of his death, but he hadn’t actually sorted through or examined his grief. His heart had been too numb, the horrors of China too fresh to add any other emotions, but now it seemed as if his heart had unfrozen just enough to almost bring him to his knees.
“Grayson?”
He could hear Eliza calling to him, but he didn’t seem able to summon up a response.
His hand reached out right as his feet began moving, and then he was standing directly in front of the chest, picking up a delicate bracelet encrusted with rubies.
He remembered his mother wearing this bracelet, wearing it around her warm, slender wrist, a wrist that had always been dabbed with the most pleasant scent of lilacs. She’d allowed him to play with this bracelet once when he’d been a child, encouraged him to take it over to a window so that the sun could sparkle over its many gems.
Her wrist was no longer warm, nor was it scented with lilacs, considering she’d been dead for ten long years.
He hadn’t made the time to visit her grave when he’d returned to London. He hadn’t taken the time to pay his own mother the respect she deserved.
He’d never seen his father’s grave.
Grief overwhelmed him as tears blinded him.
“Grayson.”
Eliza was suddenly in front of him, her hands on his face as matching tears glistened in her eyes. She leaned closer and kissed his cheek, and he dropped the bracelet and pulled her close.
For how long they stayed that way, he couldn’t say, but as his grief dissipated, he felt his soul breathe a sigh of relief. He gave Eliza one last lingering hug and took a step back.
“Eliza, I’m sorry I—”
Eliza held up her hand. “Do not apologize, Gray. I’m your sister, and it was past time you allowed yourself a moment to grieve all that you’ve lost. I’m just thankful I was here to grieve with you.” She gave a rather watery snort. “It is lovely to have you back.”
“I’ve been back for months.”
“No, that was simply your body. Now you’re finally returning to life.” She smiled. “I can’t help but wonder what, or perhaps who, is responsible for this improvement.” Her smile widened. “If I were to hazard a guess, I would say Felicia Murdock has something to do with it.”
His first instinct was to argue the point, but then he tilted his head and thought about it for a moment.
Was Felicia responsible for opening him up to the people around him, for him beginning to deal with the past?
During the time he’d spent with her, he’d come to realize she was a truly remarkable lady. She was giving and kind—even though she really did seem to have a talent for trouble. It wasn’t as if she sought it out, though. Trouble just seemed to find her while she was in the midst of trying to help other people.
He’d begun to feel an odd urge to follow in her footsteps, but also an urge to further his association with her, even knowing she was far too good for the likes of him. He’d thought he’d convinced himself the best thing he could do for her was to leave her alone, but then . . . he’d revealed the worst of himself, reluctantly, of course. He’d braced himself for the rejection he’d been certain was soon to follow his revelation, but . . . it had never come.
She’d obviously been disappointed with him, and more than a little disturbed over what he’d disclosed, but she hadn’t turned her back on him.
He’d thought about that throughout the night, after he’d finally gotten Ming to sleep, and as he’d thought about it, a sense of what almost felt like hope had flowed through him.
If he could ensure that she wouldn’t face danger because of him, perhaps, just perhaps—
“So, any thoughts?”
Grayson blinked and smiled when he realized Eliza was watching him with clear expectation on her face.
“I’m not certain.”
“Not certain about what I suggested regarding Felicia, or not certain you have any thoughts?”
“It’s difficult to put into words.”
“Try.”
Grayson took Eliza by the arm, helped her into a chair situated next to the fireplace, and then took a seat in a chair right next to her. He folded his hands over his stomach and took a moment to gather his thoughts, even though Eliza began to fidget in her seat. She’d never really been a patient sort.
“I told Felicia about my past.”
Eliza’s eyes widened right before they narrowed. “How much about your past?”
“Everything.”
Eliza leaned over, plucked up a book lying on the floor beside her chair, and swatted him with it.
He rubbed his arm. “And the reason for that would be?”
“You know full well you have yet to tell me everything about your past. I’m your sister. I should have been the first to know, not Felicia.”
“Zayne and Agatha heard it as well, if that makes you feel any better. It wasn’t as if I specifically singled Felicia out.”
Eliza evidently didn’t believe that deserved a response, because she stuck her nose into the air and didn’t say another word. She simply began drumming her fingers against the arm of the chair, even though Grayson couldn’t help but notice her other hand was still clutching the book.
He was pretty sure he’d be experiencing another hard whack any moment.
“Would you like to know what I told her?” he finally asked, still eyeing the book.
“No.”
His lips twitched. He’d forgotten his sister had a distinct propensity for surliness when she felt the occasion warranted it.
He leaned back and decided to wait her out.
The ticks of the clock on the wall sounded loud in the room, and after at least one hundred of them had sounded, Eliza finally let out a grunt and waved the hand not still clutching the book in the air. “Fine, I’m listening.”
“Perhaps we should order some tea first.”
Eliza dropped the book to the ground, leaned forward, and patted him on the knee. “There’s no reason to stall. I’m your sister, Grayson. It’ll be far easier to tell me about your past than it was to tell Felicia, Agatha, and Zayne. They had the ability to reject you, while I, no matter what you say, will always love you.”