by Kara Summers
I sank into her soft body, my small frame overwhelmed by her. I was mad at her, but it still felt good to be held by somebody. I sniffled and tried to hold back my tears, though I was shaking with the effort it took. Mary pulled back and sighed, wiping another tear from my cheek.
“I don’t want to make you sad, child, but you have to understand that this is not normal behavior for a young girl.”
“But father is a detective, and I want to be a detective one day,” I said.
“Little girls don’t grow up to be detectives.”
“Then what do little girls grow up to be?” I challenged.
“Wives and mothers,” she explained.
That answer would haunt me for the rest of my life. My little run in with Mary wasn’t going to stop me from studying and learning. I continued to read my father’s books and ask him questions. I considered him a passive educator. He never would have allowed me to go out with him, but he was more than happy to answer any questions I had.
My father was a good man and an even better investigator, but the stereotype of the drunk, brooding detective followed him home. My father never got over my mother’s death and often drank to forget that she was gone. It was this vice that would take is life when I turned seventeen.
I was alone in the world after my father died since I’d chosen not marry in order to pursue my dream. I’d spent my entire life learning to be a detective and I wasn’t going to give up now. My father had been very good at when he did and had run his agency under the name “B. Martin”. The offices of Bernard Martin would soon become the offices of Beatrice Martin, though the world would never have to know that. I would simply be “B. Martin II”.
Cases started rolling in after my father died and I chose the ones that I would take on carefully. I did not want to be overly ambitious since I was just getting started. As soon as I realized that I was good at what I did, however, I became far less picky. I was better than Scotland Yard, though they never would have admitted to calling me on many occasions to consult.
Some people were shocked when a tall red-headed woman showed up on their doorstep, but they never turned me away. Soon, word spread like wildfire that B. Martin was the rightful heir to the family business no matter my gender. I was making it in the world, and while my suitors were few and far between, I could care less. I was not concerned with things like babies and marriage. I was far more interested in what happened to bodies post mortem and the budding fields of Forensic Science and pathology. My life was fulfilled by my work.
People thought me a bit strange, but no one was willing to say much about it because everyone knew that if they were looking for justice, there was only one person they wanted on the case.
B. Martin.
Chapter Two
"I simply do not understand why I'm expected to go to these events. Doesn't Scotland Yard know how many murders take place in this city each night?" I hesitated at my own question. "Judging by their performance, I'm going to recant that question," I said, sucking in a breath as my best friend pulled the strings to my corset so tight that I could barely breathe. "That's too tight!"
"No such thing," Victoria said, handing me the rest of my dress. "And you're expected to go to these things because you're a public figure in London. You're a female detective. That's curious enough, but the fact that you're good at your job makes you even more irresistible."
"I just wish I did not have to wear all this!" I whined, motioning at the layers of fabric that had been wrapped around my body in order to make me look thinner.
"You're still a lady, and you're expected to look nice when you go to balls," Victoria said, pulling a few cosmetics pots from a bag she'd brought.
I groaned and eyed them almost suspiciously. "Must I wear that?"
"You must."
"But why?" I whined.
"Because one day being a detective won't be enough to fill your life. You will wake up alone in your bed one day and wonder why you never married," Victoria said with a certainty I didn’t share.
I pressed my lips together and sighed. "Men don't marry women who are detectives," I said softly, echoing my nanny from all those years ago.
"That's not true. Times are changing, Bea," she said softly, starting to pull my hair back out of my face. "I know that you think you can't have both, but that's just not true. You can be a detective and a wife. You just have to give people a chance. You have plenty of suitors, but you push them away and go back to your potions and formulas."
"I must focus on my work," I argued.
"That's an excuse and we both know it, Bea," Victoria said, sticking a hair pin in my curls. "You hide behind your science because you're afraid."
"Are you a psychologist now?" I scoffed, pulling my hair pin out and repositioning it in spite. Every time I replaced it, it all but fell out of my hair and Victoria smiled.
She took the pin out of my hair and redid it so that it finally stayed in place. "Not a psychologist, darling, just a loving friend."
I looked at her and sighed softly, shaking my head. “You are delusional,” I murmured, allowing Victoria to pat my face with pink pigments that stained my lips and cheeks.
“Hardly, love,” she hummed, pulling a single curl down so that it fell in my face. “I am not delusional. It’s just easier for me to see from the outside than it is for you to see from inside that stubborn head of yours. You should know that,” she said softly, pulling back.
I took myself in in the mirror, and while I hated to admit it, Victoria had done a wonderful job. I looked like a true lady, which was something that I did not get to say too often. I wasn’t not known for my feminine charm. I was more likely to walk into a room covered in blood than wearing a dress. I sighed softly and turned to look at her.
“Thank you. I really don’t know where I would be without you,” I said with a soft smile. “I look great. Better than I ever thought I would.”
Victoria smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “You should give yourself a little credit. You gave me the materials to work with,” she said, taking my arm and guiding me down the hall. “The Yard sent a carriage. They’re waiting.”
As I followed her out of the house, my heart started beating a little faster. Social situations were not a place where I felt comfortable. I’d never really learned to conduct myself at large, formal functions like the one I was attending. As much as Victoria tried to tell me that times were changing, I knew she did not quite have that right. There were still things women were expected to do and I did not do any of those things.
Victoria stood by the door and waved in my direction as I slipped into the carriage silently, glancing back over my shoulder and struggling to keep my composure. I could stare into the eyes of a killer and not flinch even in the slightest, but when it came to going to a ball, I was a mess.
I took a deep breath and relaxed against the luxurious velvet seating, surprised that they’d sent such a nice carriage in the first place. I’d showed up their agency on more than one occasion and I wasn’t exactly their favorite person.
The carriage took off and I groaned, closing my eyes and leaning my temple against the inside of the carriage. I always got a bit sick on these monstrosities. I stayed patient, but I was thankful when the carriage came to a stop and the driver opened the door for me, helping me out and keeping me upright as I stepped out onto the street.
I looked up at the building in front of me, marveling at its size. Scotland Yard might have issues with their detectives, but their budget did not show it. The mansion that served as tonight’s venue, was lit up with several hundred candles and lanterns that illuminated a path up to the stone columns supporting the roof covering the front stairs.
As I followed the lit path I glanced around, my cheeks going even redder underneath. People were whispering, staring at me and chuckling. I’d always been hyper aware and maybe even paranoid of people’s stares. I tried to ignore them as I walked through the doors of the main foyer, my eyes widening as I
was met with a room full of people dancing in elaborate costumes. I was suddenly very glad that Victoria lent me one of her dresses. The one I would have worn would have been very much out of date and out of style.
As I watched people dance and laugh, I suddenly realized just how out of place I was.
Chapter Three
I was the type of person to put up a strong front. Even if I was unsure of myself, I could normally put up a pretty convincing act. Here, however, I was a fish out of water and I did not know what to do with myself.
The Yard was kind enough to provide libations and I drowned my unease in them, enjoying the strong burn of burn on the back of my throat. Many people gave me strange looks since women weren’t supposed to indulge in such things, but I could care less, honestly. It was making me feel better.
Soon the giggling started and I could barely control it. I’d drunk a little more than I should have. I felt light as air and I never would have felt that without the gin, or was it bourbon? I couldn’t remember anymore.
I stood to get another glass and stumbled just a bit, though thankfully there was a strong hand ready to catch me. I pitched forward, right into the waiting arms of a man that was at least a head and a half taller than me. He was as solid as a wall and when I tumbled into his chest I felt safe. I giggled a little and looked up at him, my eyes widening when I realized who it was.
The man who I’d stumbled into was one of the Leon brothers. I knew as much about them as everyone else in town. They came from a wealthy family and had some kind of royal blood in them. They were the Dukes of Wind shire. Their status gave them quite a bit of power and it wasn’t strange to see them at events like this.
I did not know much about them on a personal level, but I knew there were four of them, and this one looked rather young. I looked him up and down, taking in his thick, wavy black hair and intense steely eyes. They were the color of the ocean on a rainy day, and I hated that I found myself falling into them. I swallowed thickly and stood up, my legs shaky under my weight.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Jasper Leon.”
“Don’t you mean Duke Jasper Leon?” I murmured.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I never liked such formal titles.”
Jasper was wearing a handsome, well-tailored set of tails and a fitted waist coat. The way it hugged the lines of his masculine body made me blush and become incredibly flustered. I had to look down and avoid eye contact as I straightened myself and cleared my throat.
“Well, Mr. Leon,” I stammered
“Jasper.”
I cleared my throat and looked at him. “Jasper,” I corrected. “I think I need to go.”
“So soon?” he smiled and offered his arm to me. “Would you walk with me?”
My cheeks burned again, but I found it difficult to say no to this man. I sighed and nodded. “Fine. I suppose I could use some fresh air,” I murmured, looking away as I put my hand on his arm.
“I could tell,” he teased softly.
I looked at him, eyes wide and indigent. “What does that mean?”
“You seem a bit tipsy,” he noted.
I scoffed and turned away but stumbled again, silently thankful when Jasper caught me. Again. “Come walk with me. The fresh air will clear your head.”
I hesitated but finally nodded, standing up and leaning into him so I wouldn’t fall. He led me out of the crowded ballroom and past the marble pillars. Soon we were walking through a garden that smelled of jasmine and other sweet flowers. I’d never been that interested in plants and flowers, but I could still appreciate their scent and beauty.
The wind hit me and I breathed in deep, already feeling better. That room had been far too crowded for my liking.
“You seemed a bit out of your element in there,” Jasper commented, looking down at me.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, accidently unpinning it. I cursed under my breath, but Jasper managed to catch the borrowed pin. He smiled and offered it back to me. I blushed and took it, tucking it haphazardly into my hair.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he said.
“I’m from London, but I don’t typically come to these types of events,” I said, waving my hand idly.
“I could tell.”
A sigh left my lips and I shook my head slowly. “Was it that obvious?” I murmured.
“You just seemed a little stiff. If we’re being honest with each other, I find these things to be rather droll.”
“Do we really know each other well enough to be honest?” I asked, suddenly coy.
“How well do you have to know someone to be honest with them? I assume that human beings should always be honest with one another,” he countered.
I chuckled and pointed a finger at him, stumbling over a stone as I moved forward. “Touché.”
He caught me again and smiled. “So who are you?”
“B. Martin.”
“B? Your name is B?”
“My name is Beatrice, but most people know me as Bea or B. Martin,” I answered.
“And why is that?”
“Because female detectives are a hard sell,” I explained. “My father’s name was Bernard and the name of the business has always been B. Martin. It made it easier to keep things going along after he passed.”
Jasper raised a brow and smiled. “Smart girl.” He chuckled and brushed a curl from my face, making my cheeks go hot. “I like smart girls.”
“That would make you the first,” I murmured, trying to deflect the compliment.
“I don’t make a habit of arguing with ladies, so you’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t believe you.”
I cocked a brow, a bit surprised at how forward he was. Usually rich men like him had a tendency to keep their mouths shut around women like me. Even so, I was hardly offended. I smiled a little and crossed my arms over my chest, moving to stand in front of him.
“And why don’t you believe me?” I challenged.
He closed the space between us and wrapped an arm around my waist, yanking me against his sturdy frame. He reached out with his free hand and cupped my cheek, smiling softly. For a moment, I couldn’t say a thing. My voice was trapped in my throat and all I could manage was a soft squeak. He was so strong and so masculine. My heart was slamming in my chest so loud I could hear it in my ears. I felt a sudden tingle between my legs that was completely foreign.
He offered me a disarmingly charming smile and kissed my cheek. “Because you’re as beautiful as an Irish rose.”
I hadn’t realized we made it back to the doors of the ballroom. He’d managed to distract me so well. He turned to walk back into the party, but stopped short and smiled over his shoulder at me.
“I certainly hope we meet again, Beatrice.”
The way my name came from his mouth made my knees weak and all I could do was stare at him, wide-eyed and trying to take in that silky voice and handsome face. I nodded numbly and he turned again, disappearing into the dancing crowd. The encounter left me confused, shaking and unsure of myself. I’d never met a man who could get into my head like that and I turned and did the only thing I could do.
I wretched into the bushes, thankful that I was alone on that patio.
Chapter Four
I left shortly after my encounter with Jasper. My stomach was rolling violently and I was sure that if I stayed much longer I’d be sick again. I managed to make it out of the party without making too much of a fool of myself. I needed help to get into the carriage, weighed down by my intoxication and my dress. When I arrived to my small flat, I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. My mind was racing with images of Jasper. How had he gotten under my skin so quickly?
When I woke up the next morning, the pounding on my door was echoed by the pounding in my head. I groaned and sat up, glaring at the door as if it had wronged me. I threw the blankets off and stood, stumbling in the heels I’d forgotten I was still
wearing. My hair was an angry mess and when I threw open the door, I’m sure I looked absolutely wild.
My assistant stood in front of me. She was a short woman with dark hair, brown eyes, and plain but pretty features. She spoke with a thick Russian accent and I was one of the few people who understood her. She wore men’s trousers and a men’s shirt that was far too big for her tucked into the trousers that hung on her wide hips precariously. She crossed her arms and looked me up and down, smirking just a little.
“It’s not like you to be hungover. Or wearing a ball gown,” she observed.
“I had an important engagement to attend last night.”
“Mmmm…You had fun? Did you meet a man?” she sang, circling her hips.
I rolled my eyes and waved her inside. “Don’t be vulgar, Ivana,” I murmured.
She mumbled something in Russian but I ignored it, locking the door and starting to strip out of my dress. Ivana and I all but lived together, the woman had seen me in various stages of undress and I could care less that she might desire women. I wasn’t concerned with that. I was far more concerned with her sharp mind.
“Did you get any new cases yesterday?” I asked.
“Of course. There are always cases. This place is a cesspool.”
“And Moscow is better?” I challenged.
Ivana shrugged and moved to sit on my desk, kicking her short legs. “All you talk about is work. Can we talk about the party? The one I wasn’t invited to?”
“You did not miss anything,” I assured her, slipping a much simpler, looser dress on over my slip.
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to tell me about it.”
I sighed. “It was a ball thrown by Scotland Yard. I showed up, had a drink and I left.”
“A drink? I doubt that. I’m from Russia. If there’s one thing I know, it’s drunkenness and you, my love, had more than a drink last night.”
“You really aren’t going to leave me alone until I give you something interesting, are you?”