Out front of the Graham’s, the coachman opened the door to their carriage for them.
Simon reached out to help her into the carriage, but Elizabeth shook her head. “Let’s walk. I could use the air.”
Simon nodded to the coachman sending him on his way and then wound Elizabeth’s arm through his.
They started back to Mrs. Eldridge’s. “That was quite a promise,” he said.
“I know it’s crazy. I just kept thinking how I’d feel if it was our daughter.”
She cast a quick glance at Simon, but his expression was unreadable. They’d never discussed children. They’d never even discussed pets. Heck, they weren’t even engaged. But she did wonder though, more often than she’d like to admit, if he even wanted a family. His previous family experience had pretty much stunk on ice. Not that she wanted kids. Not right now anyway, but someday. Maybe.
“If it had been our daughter, neither one of them would have left that room under their own power.”
Elizabeth’s stomach flipped at the fierceness in his voice. It was probably wrong to feel this way, she thought, but that was damn sexy.
He ground his teeth and then continued, “Regardless, we need to know more about Madame Petrovka. All we know so far is that she lived in England for several years.”
“Max has some friends there. Maybe he could cable them, ask them to poke around?”
“Good. And speaking of Mr. Harrington.”
Elizabeth raised a hand to stop him. “I know. I’ll talk to him today. I can just see it. ‘So sorry, Max, I’m not interested, by the way would you like to do me a favor?’ Smooth.”
“It’s better than pistols at dawn.”
Elizabeth laughed although the image of Simon dueling wasn’t actually hard to conjure. “I’ll talk to him.”
“We should also find out what we can about those union workers.”
“And the Admiral,” Elizabeth said. “Although, he doesn’t seem the sort.”
“Men have done far more for far less,” Simon reminded her.
That was true enough and far from comforting. The weight of it all was starting to feel a little overwhelming. “I wish we had more time. Even if we do discover who wants him dead I don’t know how we’re going to stop it.”
“We’ll find a way,” Simon said, pulling her closer. “It’s what we do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Max was very understanding. Too understanding. She’d told him that she and Simon had been together in New York, had fought and were now trying to make it work. It wasn’t a lie really and she thought she told it fairly well, but Maxwell just smiled and nodded. And he’d seemed more than happy to help when she’d asked him to look into Madame Petrovka. He didn’t even ask any questions about why she wanted to know. He just grinned that trillion-watt smile of his and promised to do his best. It was unnerving. Either she was becoming as suspicious as Simon or she wasn’t actually all that and a bag of Skittles.
While she’d been letting Max down easily, Simon had been looking for the Union Labor Party headquarters. During the time he’d been looking for her, he’d cultivated his minor army of spies, who for a few coins would be happy to tell him just about anything about anyone.
He learned that the man Elizabeth had intercepted that day at the Ferry Building was named Olaf Karlsson. Judging from the anger Olaf and his comrades had shown at Graham during his speech, they were definitely potential problems. Olaf and a few others were making a speech at Lotta’s Fountain near the Palace Hotel.
By the time Elizabeth and Simon arrived a small crowd was already gathering.
“Over there,” Elizabeth said, pointing toward Olaf and the heckler from the speech who were leaning against the fountain watching the crowd.
She and Simon made their way to the two men. “Mr. Karlsson.”
“You!” Olaf said shoving himself away from the fountain.
Simon stepped forward and raised a hand. “We’re just here to talk.”
“Len does all of our talking,” Olaf said jerking a thumb toward the other man.
The little man smiled revealing rows of crooked, yellowing teeth. “And boy am I gonna do some talking today.”
“You should go,” Olaf said to Elizabeth.
“I’m sorry about what happened. I thought you were going shoot him or something.”
“Or something,” Len said stepping out into the street.
“I really am sorry, but there have been threats made to Mr. Graham and you and your—”
“This is no place for you,” Olaf said.
She was definitely getting a little tired of people telling her that. Simon, Gerald, and now Olaf. Why did every man in creation think they were suddenly the boss of her?
That’s when she heard it. First it was just a brass band approaching from the distance and then voices. Lots of them. She and Simon stepped out into the street. Turning the corner of Market and Kearney had to be hundreds of men with a large red banner at the front that said “Workingmen Unite!”
Red banners were never good.
“Aw, crap,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“Agreed.”
In less than a minute they were surrounded and buffeted about in the crowd. Simon wrapped his arm around Elizabeth and tried to weave his way toward the hotel.
Len was hoisted up onto one of the corners of the fountain. “Like our brother Haywood, we will not be controlled. Put our blood here!”
A few other men climbed the fountain to string up the banner, but a group of blue-coated police appeared and that’s when all hell broke loose. The crowd became a mob. Fights broke out indiscriminately all around them. Bricks, iron scrap and slabs of terra cotta from a nearby construction site were instant missiles.
A group of men jumped on a passing cable car and pulled the passengers right out of their seats. Police rushed in, but they were completely overwhelmed. And Simon and Elizabeth found themselves trapped in the middle of a full-scale riot.
Simon held her close to his chest as he tried to hurry them through the crowd, but they were blocked at every turn. Elizabeth was shoved and grabbed. Something akin to genuine panic started to well up inside her when someone jabbed her in the ribs, hard, and she cried out in pain. She heard a loud thud and then iron hands gripped her arm. But they weren’t Simon’s. She spun her head around to see Olaf, red faced and with a small trickle of blood running down from a cut above his left eye.
“This way,” he yelled and then pushed, shoved and tossed people aside. With raw brute force, he cut a path through the crowd. Luckily, the melee started to thin on the sidewalks near the front of the Palace Hotel.
Just as Olaf propelled them toward the front door, a policeman cracked him on the back of the head with a billy club. Olaf’s head snapped forward and his legs wobbled. Another officer grabbed him by the arm and started to drag Olaf away.
Elizabeth tried to go to him. “He just was helping us!”
But she couldn’t move. Simon held on to her too tightly and dragged her past the doormen into the hotel. The big doors shut behind them and they stumbled into the surreal quiet of the hotel lobby. Everything felt unnatural like it does just after a car accident and she felt the tingle of adrenaline.
“We should help him,” Elizabeth said.
Simon shook his head. “It’s too late. There’s nothing we can do now.”
Even though she knew he was right, Elizabeth was ready to argue, but a sharp pain in here side stopped her.
“Are you hurt?” Simon said.
She shook her head, but Simon wasn’t convinced. “Come on,” he said as he guided her to the bank of elevators, stopping only briefly at the front desk to get his key and bark some orders. “Uncanny,” he muttered.
“What?”
“You and trouble.”
“It’s a gift.”
***
Once they were safely inside his rooms, Simon quickly shed his jacket and set about tending to Elizabeth. She’d taken off her hat and, thankfully, didn’t look t
o be too much worse for the wear.
He helped her off with her jacket and then gently probed her side. “How bad is it? Be honest.”
“A little sore, but not bad. Honestly.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her. She had an unnatural aversion to going to hospital. “Just a flesh wound?”
She smiled and laughed a little. “I’m fine, really.
His fingers deftly moved across her ribs. “I think your corset might have taken the brunt of it.”
“Finally good for something.”
“You should take it off though.”
“Why, Sir Simon!”
He hadn’t set out to make this a seduction, but now that he looked at her beautifully flushed face and imagined the prospect of making love to her, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“Fine,” she said with a resigned sigh. “But it is going to be hell putting that thing back on.”
He cupped her cheek and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Let’s just enjoy taking it off, shall we?”
Elizabeth’s blush deepened and she started to unbutton her blouse, but he covered her hands with his. He wanted this to last.
“Let me.”
A shuddering breath was his answer.
Slowly, he knelt in front of her and unlaced each boot and helped her step out of them. His hands brushed up the back of her stocking legs, inched his way up the garter straps, but stopped mid-thigh. He undid the garter fastenings to her stockings and rolled each down her leg. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of the back of her knee and he heard her gasp. There would be more of that, he thought.
Standing, he gave her a sly smile. “One must do these things properly or not at all.”
Her face was even more flushed than before and her beautiful blue eyes were dark with need. “Properly’s good.”
He smiled again and took off her gloves, kissing the inside of her wrists with just slightest brush of his lips. Her breathy sigh tested his patience, but he wanted to savor this moment.
His fingers started at the notch in her neck and ran down along the buttons of her blouse just between her breasts. She arched her back, straining for his touch, but he wanted her to feel the same need he did. The same burning passion.
He undid the fastenings for her skirt and then with aching slowness began work on the buttons of her blouse from the bottom up. Once he was done, he slipped his warm hands under the fabric, barely grazing her warm soft skin and pushed it back off her shoulders. It fell to the floor and was quickly joined by her thin white cotton corset cover.
She stood before him dressed only in her underclothes now and he nearly lost the last tether on his control. He wanted to have her then. So very badly. The only way quell is aching need was to stop even for the briefest of moments. He leaned closed and blew a feather soft breath on to the nape of her neck. She gasped and rolled her head to the side, hoping to tempt him. God in heaven, he was tempted, but his will was stronger than hers. For now.
Simon walked around behind her, so close he knew she could feel his presence even with eyes closed. His hands brushed across her hips and up over her breasts as he unhooked her corset fastenings from behind. Elizabeth leaned back into his body, her head falling against his shoulder. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her body back against his. He knew then that she could feel his need as keenly as he did.
Her corset fell to the floor forgotten, followed by her bloomers and chemise. She was completely naked now.
His hands barely brushed the swell of her hips as they moved around her. Fingertips grazed her skin as his hands passed over her stomach and up toward her breasts. Finally giving in to his desire, his fingers brushed along the underside of her breasts. He took them into his hands and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. She arched into touch.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
She eased around in his arms, kissed the corner of his mouth, smiled and then started toward the bedroom leaving his near breathless. He watched as she leaned against the doorway, the very picture of the coy seductress. “Are you going to do this properly, or not?”
He unbuttoned his collar and walked toward her. “Definitely not properly.”
Chapter Eighteen
Thick black soot billowed out of the ferry’s smokestack and disappeared into the distance behind them. It was a smoother ride than Simon had thought it would be considering how rough the bay could be. Then again, the ferry was no small ship at nearly 300 feet in length and almost half that in width. The coal engine hummed below deck and the side-paddles made an oddly comforting churning sound as they dug through the water.
After Elizabeth and he had recovered from the afternoon’s adventures, Simon had used his little spy network again to find the Admiral. It might be a waste of time to talk with him, but waiting for Sunday to come simply wasn’t an option.
According to Simon’s sources, the Admiral liked to ride the ferries. Supposedly, it reminded him of his navy days and more often than not, he could be found at dusk riding the Bay City ferry to Oakland and back. That’s just where Simon and Elizabeth found him, standing at the rail of the cabin deck looking out over the bay.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said as she joined the Admiral at the railing.
He seemed surprised that anyone had spoken. He turned to her, looked her up and down and then turned back to the sea. “I’ve always thought so.”
“What island is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Angel Island. It was a fine naval base once. Now, it’s home to the devil—coolies and their nursemaids.”
Elizabeth turned to Simon and raised an eyebrow. He held up a placating hand. People were products of their world and San Francisco at the turn of the century was not exactly accepting of racial differences.
“Immigration is complicated,” Elizabeth said.
The Admiral snorted. “Not from where I stand. Your Graham might call it progress, but to my mind it’s the death of a pure America.”
Simon could see Elizabeth fighting her instincts to tell the Admiral just what she thought of that last comment. He was proud that she managed to bite out a quick, “I don’t work for Graham,” instead.
The Admiral snorted. “No? You’ll forgive me, Miss, if I have trouble believing that after what I saw the other day.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.”
“It doesn’t really matter. You can tell him I won’t fight him anymore. I’m too old and too tired.” He turned his attention back to the whitecaps. “At least he can’t buy this.”
“He really isn’t so bad,” Elizabeth offered.
The Admiral snorted. “You’re just like him, aren’t you? Progress at the cost of all else? At the cost of decency? You don’t remember how it was before, when the… negros knew their place and the Asiatics stayed where they belonged.”
“I thought you fought for the Union.”
“I fought for Maryland. The white man doesn’t stand a chance now.”
“The white man?” Elizabeth said. “The hell?”
The Admiral sighed and looked back out over the water. “I shouldn’t expect more than vulgarities from a… woman of your ilk.”
“I have an ilk?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side.
Simon knew this wasn’t going to end well and stepped in to intervene. He pulled Elizabeth aside. As much as he wanted to push the damn pillock overboard, he knew he couldn’t. “This isn’t getting us anywhere, Elizabeth.”
“Yes,” the Admiral said. “Please control that fishwife.”
Simon glared at him, but managed to rein in his impulses. There was nothing to be gained from taking the Admiral apart bigoted piece by bigoted piece, no matter how satisfying it might have felt.
“I think the air’s fresher on the other side,” Simon said.
He could feel the tension in Elizabeth’s body as he led her away.
“Makes me crazy,” she grumbled. “Miserable old…”
S
imon slipped an arm around her waist. “I know, but we can’t change him.”
They left the Admiral and his hate behind. It had been a disconcerting meeting, made all the more so by knowing that men like him weren’t just relics of the past. Even a hundred years later, his brand of hate would still be alive.
The rest of the ferry ride was a rather solemn affair. It was difficult to say whether their encounter with the Admiral had made him less of a suspect or more of one. He was certainly angry enough to be trouble, but Simon didn’t get the sense that he was the sort to murder a man in cold blood either. Most men of his type were all talk, but not all of them.
They arrived back at the port just as the sun was dipping below the western horizon. They hired a hack back to Mrs. Eldridge’s. Max’s car was parked in the flowerbed when they arrived.
While Elizabeth went upstairs to freshen up, Simon went to the salon to wait. Harrington lounged in one of the chairs as he idly flipped through the latest edition of Life Magazine.
“Cross,” he said tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “Where’s our darling Elizabeth?”
“My darling Elizabeth is upstairs.” Simon eyed the man suspiciously as he sat down opposite him. “I thought she explained our situation.”
“Your situation, yes.” Harrington picked a piece of fluff off the flower in his lapel button and flicked it away. “It’s a funny word for it, isn’t it? Situation. Makes it sound so…unsettled.”
Simon leaned back and crossed his legs. “Does it?”
Harrington shrugged in that casual, diffident way entitled private schoolboys always did. “If we’re being honest with each other. You do prefer that, don’t you?”
Simon draped his arms across the back of the small sofa. “By all means.”
“Well, then yes, it does sound that way. You and Elizabeth might work things out, but then again, you might not.”
“And you’ll be there just in case we don’t,” Simon said feeling less inclined to be polite than he had a few minutes ago.
Harrington shrugged and ran hand through his ridiculously floppy hair. “She’s a free woman, has her own mind and I don’t see a ring.”
When the Walls Fell Page 13