Masked by Moonlight (20 page)

G
eorgia felt ill. Sad. Furious. The emotions came so quickly she couldn’t sort through them.
How amusing,
she thought to herself as she sprawled across her chair by the window.
I do remember once considering my life rather uneventful.

Here she thought she had gained such courage over the past few weeks. Now, when it really mattered, when the storm of San Francisco’s corruption showed up at her own doorstep, she was weak and frightened. She knew Stuart better than anyone. She knew what a ferocious enemy he could be.

Then again, she didn’t know Stuart at all, did she? She thought she knew what he was capable of—but how sadly she’d misjudged how low he could sink.

Lord, help me! What am I to do?
She remembered the story of Gideon, and fingered through her Bible to the sixth chapter of Judges. How she longed for an angel of the Lord to appear to her, to call her a mighty warrior and make her feel equipped for the task ahead of her. When Gideon asked, “If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened?” she felt as if the ancient warrior was voicing her own thoughts.

Why, if God had indeed been instrumental in all the extraordinary things happening in her life, had it all unraveled so quickly? Gideon pleaded weakness. So did she. God promised to be with him, to help him conquer with the small strength he had. Oh, how she longed to claim that promise for herself. Gideon had named his altar, the spot he built to mark his encounter with the Lord, “The Lord is Peace.” Gideon did not yet know how he was going to conquer his enemies. Yet he’d built an altar named for the Lord’s peace. She could feel the words taking root in her heart. And when she read the final detail, one most casual readers would probably dismiss, she knew God had sent her comfort. Gideon, it seemed, was too afraid to do his tasks in the daylight—so he did them at night. Just like her Bandit.

Guide my pen, Lord,
she prayed as she took her place at her writing desk.
Like Gideon, I am the least in my family and my enemies are great. My task is large. Be my mighty God, and do not leave my side for one second until I am through this.

She dipped her pen into the ink and took a breath.

“Grand of you to have lunch with me today, Stuart.” Matthew shook his napkin open and signaled to the waiter to deliver the first course. He’d made sure they had the best table in the Palace dining room. Today, he was going to pull out every stop to monopolize Stuart’s attention. In the time since he’d sent the invitation over and received Stuart’s acceptance, he’d hatched a plan. It was extreme, rather risky, but Matthew doubted the circumstances called for anything less.

“Fine of you to ask. I’d been thinking we ought to chat, you and I.” Stuart picked up a fork and surveyed his food. “You’ve been seeing a great deal of Georgia.”

Ah, so he
had
been thinking along those lines. Matthew had suspected as much when Waterhouse agreed to the last-minute luncheon. “I have,” he said, keeping his voice intentionally neutral.

“She’s all I have in the world,” Stuart stated.

It should have sounded sentimental. Instead, it sounded to Matthew entirely too much like the opening bid in an auction. He hid the twist in his gut and smiled genially. “She’s a delightful woman. I find her talented and clever and of tremendous moral character.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Stuart, rolling his eyes the tiniest bit, “tremendous.”

They ate for a few minutes, talking cordially, testing the waters as each waited for the true nature of the conversation to surface. When the second course had arrived, Matthew cleared his throat.

“Stuart,” he said, leaning in, “I find you to be a direct man. I admire that, so I shall be direct as well. I find myself exceptionally fond of Georgia. I’d like to pursue her affections. I could give her a very comfortable life.”

Stuart smiled. “I’m not entirely surprised, Covington. I know my sister well enough to see when a man has caught her eye.” He cut into his chicken. “But I must admit, I hadn’t thought things to have already grown that serious between you.”

“These things,” Matthew said with a wry smile, “do have a way of escalating.”
Stuart Waterhouse, if you only knew the half of it.

“Am I to understand you’re declaring your intentions?”

“I am.” Matthew reached for his glass. “I must admit, however, I’ve some doubts as to whether or not you’ll let her go.” He took a long drink, watching Stuart’s reaction. “England is far away,” he offered, “even with the railroad up and running.”

“She’s dear to me, Covington. I’ll not have her hurt.”

Not have her hurt? Have you given any thought to how you’ve placed her in danger just to stuff your coffers?
It took a supreme effort of will to keep his voice cordial. “I think the world of her, Stuart. She’ll want for nothing.”

“Except me. I’ll lose her to you. Do you deserve her?” her brother challenged.

Do you?
It had been years since Matthew wanted to knock a man across a room as he wanted to this very moment. “Will you let her go with your blessing?”

Stuart wiped his mouth with his napkin, making a show of considering the offer before him. “The idea has merit. Can you prove to me she’ll be well cared for?”

Matthew had anticipated this kind of thrust and parry, and he had a strategy prepared. “I’m prepared to place the San Francisco holdings of Covington Enterprises in Georgia’s name as an engagement gift. I’ll send for the papers tomorrow if you give me your consent to the marriage.” It was just the sort of offer Stuart couldn’t refuse—an importing firm in the family name. As such, it made the ideal setup for the final strike Matthew had planned.

“Does Georgia know of this?” Stuart asked, stalling his answer with another question. The man was shrewd, Matthew gave him that.

“I believe I know Georgia’s heart. But I would not approach her about this until I’d spoken with you. As a matter of honor.”

Stuart waited a full minute more before extending his hand. “Very well, then, Covington, it seems we are to be family.”

Matthew couldn’t think of a more disturbing thought. “Covington Enterprises will be hers by the month’s end. On one condition.”

Stuart’s brows shot up. “‘Condition’? Rather unconventional, wouldn’t you say?”

“You strike me as a man who understands a deal, Waterhouse.”

“That depends on the deal.” Stuart crossed his arms over his chest, looking intrigued and not a little annoyed.

“I know more than you think I do, Stuart.” He lowered his voice. “I know, for example, who George is.”

S
tuart went very still. He stared at Matthew before saying, “Go on.”

“I value her role in that, because I value that part of her. So, if I’m to place my family holdings in her name—and within your family—I want to know you value it as well. I’ve declared my pledge. I only want one thing from you in return.”

“Not really your place to bargain, is it, Covington?”

“It’s simple, really. No effort from you at all. I just want your promise to run the Bandit episodes verbatim. Just as Georgia writes them, no editing. If she’s to finish out her run as George Towers, then I want her to have the freedom to do it as she pleases.
Exactly
as she pleases.”

“That’s it?” Stuart balked. “That’s what you want?”

“It’s important to her, therefore it’s important to me. I’ve read the latest installment, so I’ll know if it’s been altered in any way when it appears in print on Thursday.” He held out a hand. “Have we a deal, Stuart?”

“Is this how brides are won in England?” Confound him, Stuart was stalling to the end.

“It’s how
this
particular bride is
wooed.
Do we have a deal?”

Stuart shook his hand. “Done.”

“I’m grateful. I’ll speak to her tomorrow night, if that suits you. You’ll have your papers by Monday if I can manage it.”

Stuart gripped Matthew’s hand a moment longer. “She’s all I have in the world, Covington.”

“She’s worth the world to
me,
Stuart. I hope you see that.”

“Believe it or not,” he said, with a smile that could be described as warm—if one did not look too carefully, “I think I do.”

Georgia could barely wait to get out the door with Matthew the following afternoon. The air in the house felt thick with secrets, and it seemed like hours before he came to call. Adventure and intrigue were clearly ideas best left to the printed page, and not one’s own family. She’d avoided Stuart all day yesterday, and he had been looking at her oddly today. It added to her nerves when she handed him the fateful Bandit episode over lunch. Odder still, he accepted it without a single question—not reading it then, as he usually did, and as near as she could tell not reading it at all.

Sensing that an “outing” was not really suited to their moods, Matthew suggested they simply take a walk. It was a fine afternoon, and he led her to the set of benches where he had first read the Bandit to her. The slanting gold sunlight brought a deep sapphire to his eyes. He sat down opposite her, looked at her, then stood up again.

Nervous,
she realized.
He’s nervous.
She’d never seen him nervous. Alarmed, yes. Agitated. But never nervous. She wondered if something had gone very wrong with his meeting with Stuart. “Matthew,” she began, at the exact same moment he said her name. They both blustered a bit, and then he gestured for her to continue.

“What have you said to Stuart? He has been acting strangely all day, and he took my Bandit episode without so much as a peep. I’m not even sure he’s planning on reading it before he hands it to the typesetter. How did you do it?”

“Yes, well,” said Matthew, with the tone of voice one uses when starting a long speech, “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.” He thrust his hands into his pockets, only to remove them again, and sat down. “Georgia, do you remember the verse you read to me? The one from Corinthians?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“It speaks of having everything, but of it all coming to nothing without love.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I…I don’t find it any accident that that was the verse you shared with me. It’s had a great impact on me.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve had a great impact on me.”

She wanted to reply that he’d changed her as well, but something told her to stay silent, to let him finish whatever he needed to say.

“I have a great many things. I own more than I can ever use, I have more influence than I can ever hope to wield wisely, and—” the spark in his eyes traveled to ignite his wide smile “—I have gained faith and friends I would never have imagined. But I had not love until I met you. I understand now what those verses mean, because all the things I have, the things I am, pale in comparison to love.” He took her hand. “I have come to love you. Dearly. And yet I cannot tell you what our future will be. I find I can’t even predict how the week will end.”

Had he said “our future”? Georgia suddenly realized what he was doing, why his nerves were so wound up, and she fought to pull in a breath.

“Yesterday morning, I sat in my rooms and begged God to show me what to do. He did, Georgia. He gave me a plan so perfect and so impossible that I knew at once how to proceed. But here, now, is not about any plan. It is not about how useful this tactic is. It is about how I cannot see myself without you, no matter what the circumstances.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, talking about tactics and such, but she could see an astounding intensity in his eyes.

He took her hands. “Yesterday I asked Stuart for his blessing to marry you. I want to marry you, Georgia Waterhouse, and I don’t care how impossible it all sounds right now.” He gave a sheepish laugh, something so out of place in his usually confident demeanor. “I don’t even know how I’ll manage it yet. I don’t know any of the details—here or England or family or any of it.” His hands tightened around hers. “But I know it is what I want. More than anything. And I think…no, I
believe
…God has a life together planned for us. If you’ll have me.”

Georgia understood his words. She knew what he was saying. Yet it felt as if someone had just hit her with a thousand sparks of light. “You’re…you’re asking me to marry you.”

He pulled one hand away and raked it through his hair. “Well, I admit to being rather long-winded, but yes.” He took her hands again and stared into her eyes. Oh, what the blue-black depths of them did to her. “Georgia, I am asking you to marry me. Will you?”

She had told herself over and over that it could not be. That it wasn’t really what she wanted, for it might mean leaving San Francisco. She’d given herself all manner of sensible reasons why their happiness would only be a fleeting thing. Nothing to grasp at. But here, now, she wanted to grab it with both hands and hold it close forever. She wanted to be with Matthew, and the future would have to be God’s problem to contend with as He chose. There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation to her answer. She realized that no matter how she’d deceived her more sensible self, she’d said yes to a future with him a long time ago.

“You?” she said, knowing he’d already seen her acceptance in her eyes, “or the Black Bandit?”

He grinned. “The whole lot of us.”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, I will.”

Forgetting they were in the middle of a park, he pulled her into a recklessly long kiss. “I’ve no ring yet,” he said, when they found their wits again. “You’ll have a fine one in time, but for now, I think perhaps I’ve found a suitable proxy.” Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a tiny white ribbon and tied it around her ring finger, finishing off with a kiss to her hand. “A fitting token for our most unusual courtship, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know how on earth we’ll manage it,” she agreed, touching the tiny bow, “but we’ve managed quite a lot of the impossible so far. Perhaps we stand a chance. Goodness, if Stuart agreed and ran the Bandit without question, God must be on our side.”

“Yes, well, there’s something I have to tell you about that. But I needed to hear your yes first before I let you in on my agreement with your brother.”

“Your agreement,” she repeated, feeling a bit unsteady, “with Stuart?”

“I’ll admit at first I thought it only a tactic. But I think that is purely how God got my attention. I think it might have taken me months to work up the nerve otherwise.”

“Matthew, what are you talking about?”

“I told Stuart I would transfer Covington’s San Francisco holdings into your name—something I knew he’d find irresistible—as an engagement gift. On the condition that he run your future Bandit episodes without any editing whatsoever. He knows I know you’re George. And I told him I’d seen the present Bandit installment, so you’d best show it to me quickly so I can verify he’s kept his end of the deal.”

“A deal? You struck a deal with Stuart? For me?” She eyed him.

“I struck no deal for you, Georgia. I want to marry you. God just had to knock me over the head to realize it. But I’ll admit to playing my present desires to our best advantage. It works beautifully. Your Bandit episode will run in the
Herald
now, and our plan stands a greater chance of succeeding. But please, know it is only a happy consequence of what I truly want—which is for us to be together.”

Georgia sighed. “I cannot see how it is at all possible. One of us should have to leave everything.”

“I made it here. The railroad is growing every day. Each ship built is faster than the last. Perhaps the world is not as large as it once was. I believe we will find a way. Perhaps, Georgia, God is paving the way for a new life for you. Whether it is here or in England, I don’t know. We’ll have to deal with that as it comes. But if Stuart is brought down, can you not see that perhaps God is clearing the way for you to go to England? Or at least granting us that possibility?”

She let out another sigh. “I don’t know.”

“You and the reverend won me to faith with half a Bible. You created a hero out of thin air. The Bandit has worked wonders and still no one knows who he is. I’ve been stabbed by an Irishman, stitched by a German, costumed by an Englishman, conspired with an Italian and loved by an American. I believe the small matter of a few continents and an ocean is well within our means.”