A Match of Wits (21 page)

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Piper muttered before she got to her feet, skipped over to Mr. White’s side, and disappeared through the door.

“Have I ever mentioned that I’m glad she’s my niece and not my daughter?” Zayne asked, turning to catch Gloria’s eye.

“She’s certain to cause Hamilton and Eliza no small amount of trouble when she gets older, but she was right about you and Agatha. I never once thought to question you about your deepest feelings in regard to her, having assumed you had more than your fair share of them, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I care about her, truly I do, but . . .” His words came to a halt when Piper charged back into the room, a little boy
on one side of her and a slightly older girl on the other. Mr. Higgins and his wife followed, and Zayne couldn’t help but notice the improved condition of Mr. Higgins’s appearance. His hair had been recently cut, his jacket and trousers were new, and his eyes held a trace of excitement instead of worry.

“I must say that you’re looking better, Mr. Beckett,” Mr. Higgins exclaimed as he moved forward and shook Zayne’s hand. “I truly felt sorry for you yesterday when I visited, sir, and appreciated that, though it was clear you weren’t feeling well, you still took the time to pull together that deal for me.” He stepped back and brought his wife forward. “This is my wife, Lydia, and those are my two blessings, Jared and Alice.”

“It’s delightful to meet you, Mrs. Higgins,” Zayne exclaimed as he introduced his mother to the Higginses. Pleasantries were exchanged, and then Mrs. Higgins moved closer to the bed, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears.

“Willie told me you’ve been ill of late, Mr. Beckett, so I do apologize for descending on you like this. But since we’ve decided to leave for the West so quickly, I didn’t want to neglect to thank you properly.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Zayne said. “Willie’s the one who started the mine up in the first place, and it was just luck on my part that I happened to discover gold.”

“You didn’t have to offer him a partnership, or even try to track him down.”

“That was actually Miss Watson’s idea,” he admitted.

Mrs. Higgins smiled. “Of course it was, my dear, because that’s what we women do, point our gentlemen in the right direction, but you didn’t have to listen to her. Because you did, it tells me you’re a man of great character, and you will always have my deepest gratitude for changing our lives forever.”

A lump suddenly formed in his throat. He hadn’t really
considered how much he would be changing this family’s life. Granted, he’d known almost from the moment Agatha had made the suggestion regarding Willie and the mining claim that it was the right thing to do, but he’d never thought the matter through.

The last pieces of the ice surrounding his heart took that moment to shatter, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt for far too long.

It was all Agatha’s doing, that peace.

She knew him as no one else did. Knew exactly what he’d needed to make himself whole again, and . . . he didn’t want to lose her.

Unfortunately, he’d made a mess of things, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could begin again with her, begin as friends and see where that led.

He swallowed around the lump. “I’m just thankful, Mrs. Higgins, that your husband was so willing to take on this daunting job. The mine’s a disaster at the moment, and it’ll be slow going until the snow clears in the spring. I do hope you won’t regret moving out there with your children.”

“We’ll be fine, Mr. Beckett,” Mrs. Higgins assured. “The children are looking forward to this adventure, and with the more than generous salary you’ve settled on my Willie and then a stake in the profits in the future, well, our lives will be better than anything we’ve ever known.” She smiled. “The children are especially looking forward to going to one of those frontier schools. Willie told me there’s one right in Colorado Springs.”

Zayne returned her smile. “Miss Watson will be thrilled to learn of that. She’s very adamant regarding children and education.”

“Speaking of Miss Watson,” Willie began, “we stopped
by her house before we came here. I wanted to thank her as well. She received us graciously, but our visit was cut short when Dot showed up to speak with her.”

Zayne felt the smile slide right off his face. “Dot was visiting Agatha?”

Willie nodded. “I must admit I thought it was somewhat odd that Dot would pay a visit to Miss Watson, but then, when I overheard her saying something about finding a Mary, I realized that Dot was simply there to impart some type of information.”

A dribble of sweat began to trail down his back. “And was Agatha excited about the information Dot imparted?”

“I suppose she did seem a little excited.”

“Wonderful,” Zayne muttered before he forced another smile. “You didn’t happen to hear anything else, did you?”

“Well, there was mention of a—” Willie shot a look to the children, who were chatting with Piper and Gloria, and then lowered his voice—“brothel and something about someone hiding there.”

“I see.” Keeping his smile firmly in place, he nodded at the Higginses. “I do hope you’ll forgive me, Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, but knowing that Miss Watson has suddenly become apprised of the location of Mary, a woman who is incredibly dangerous, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our visit short.”

“I do hope I haven’t passed on news that’s going to make you ill again, Mr. Beckett,” Mr. Higgins said slowly.

“I’m sure I’ll feel much better once I find Miss Watson.”

“Now, Zayne, there’s no need to be hasty,” Gloria said, her attention no longer centered on the children. “You’re in no condition to go chasing after Agatha, and besides, we haven’t finished our discussion yet regarding feelings.”

“I think it’s about time we took our leave,” Mr. Higgins
said, taking Mrs. Higgins by the arm. “I’ll send you a telegram when we arrive in Colorado. Children, it’s time to go.”

Before Zayne could even blink, the Higginses had left the room, leaving him with Gloria and Piper.

“I do believe that’s the fastest I’ve ever been able to clear a room,” Gloria said. “Do you think it was because I mentioned discussing feelings?”

“Nice try, Mother, but I’m not distractible at the moment.” Zayne swung his cast over the edge of the bed. “Would someone mind fetching me my crutches?”

It soon became quite clear that neither Gloria nor Piper were opposed to fetching his crutches—there was just the little problem of their bolting out of the room with crutches in hand after they’d been fetched.

“That’s not going to stop me!” he yelled, grabbing hold of the bedpost to pull himself to his feet.

“You’ll only make matters worse if you go after Agatha in a temper!” Gloria yelled back.

Pausing for just a second, Zayne realized his mother might have a good point, but Agatha was probably already making plans to investigate brothels. He couldn’t sit by and allow her to do that.

She might not be a typical damsel in distress, but she was a damsel who was destined for trouble, and knowing Agatha, she’d find that all too soon. Whether she liked it or not, he was going to rescue her for a change.

I
know I agreed to the whole coming out from hiding idea, Agatha, but I really must state yet again that I think bringing Matilda along with us on our first venture outside without disguises might be a bit much,” Drusilla exclaimed.

Taking a firm grip on the bright pink leash she’d attached to Matilda’s matching collar, Agatha pulled the little darling away from a well-coiffed poodle before she sent the owner of the poodle a smile. That lady, however, didn’t seem to be receptive to pleasantries, because she let out a sniff, yanked her poodle to her side, and stormed down the street.

“Nonsense, bringing Matilda was a capital idea,” she said as another lady sent her a scowl and tottered away in the opposite direction as fast as her high heels would allow.

“She’s drawing attention.”

“Of course she is. It’s not every day one sees an adorable pink P-I-G strolling down Park Row, or anywhere else in New York, for that matter, which is why I brought her in the first place.”

Matilda stopped in her tracks and swung her head around, sending Agatha a look of deepest reproach.

“Good grief, she’s learned how to spell,” Drusilla sputtered.

“What a bright girl you are, darling, and I do apologize most profusely for insulting you.” Agatha bent over and gave Matilda a good pat. “Perhaps we should find a name you actually like, such as Princess instead of the other P word. Would that be more to your liking?”

Matilda tossed her head, let out a squeal, and then broke into a trot, giving Agatha no other choice but to follow suit as Drusilla kept pace beside her.

“Princess?” Drusilla asked with a snort. “Really, Agatha, you’ve gone a little nutty of late, especially in regard to your pet.”

“Bringing her with us
will
attract attention, which is our goal, if you’ll remember. And I couldn’t leave her behind. She’s been morose of late, ever since she knocked Zayne off his feet, and allowing her to come out today has improved her spirits.”

“You’ve been morose of late as well.”

“And I’d rather not discuss that, thank you very much.” Agatha stumbled to a stop when Matilda became distracted by a lump of something that might have once been a piece of candy on the sidewalk. “That’s revolting,” she said when Matilda began slurping it up.

“If you ladies keep stopping, we’re never going to reach the
New-York Tribune
, and I would really like to reach that sooner rather than later, because I’m getting edgy out here in the open.”

Turning, Agatha smiled. Francis was standing only a few feet away from them, scowling, as he was prone to do, but his scowls no longer rankled, because she’d discovered that underneath his stern and formidable appearance lurked a gentleman with a soft heart and tender sensibilities.

Ever since he’d escorted her home from the pub, he’d taken to asking her about her feelings on a regular basis.

Francis and feelings were somewhat difficult to comprehend.

She’d always known he was a complicated gentleman, but she’d never realized that under his fierce façade was a compassionate and caring soul.

She’d been contemplating a bit of matchmaking of late, when she wasn’t occupied with thoughts of who wanted to kill her, what stories she needed to write next, and unwelcome thoughts of Zayne, but . . . No, now was not the time to think of Zayne. She’d been thinking about matchmaking and Francis’s soft heart and how well that heart would be paired with Drusilla’s soft heart, not that she was certain Drusilla exactly had one of those, but—

“It’s not our fault we stopped, Francis,” Drusilla said, dragging her from all thoughts of matchmaking. “Matilda found something to eat.”

Taking a step closer, Mr. Blackheart frowned. “That’s disgusting.”

Matilda took that moment to let out a hack, and a glob of something foul erupted out of her mouth.

Agatha released a sigh. “I knew that wasn’t good for you.”

Before Matilda could snap up the treat again, Francis whipped it off the ground and tossed it over his head, apparently not noticing that the treat immediately attached itself to a lady’s hat.

Drusilla’s eyes turned huge. “We should get moving.”

“Don’t you think we should tell that lady she has . . .”

“She already knows, and by the look on her face, if we linger, we’re in for a rough time of it.” Drusilla pulled Agatha down the street with Matilda scampering to catch up.

“But what happened to Francis?” Agatha swiveled her head and then slowed to a stop when she saw him speaking with the lady in the hat, even as that lady shook her finger at him and then stuck her nose in the air and marched down the sidewalk. Catching her eye, he shrugged and broke into a trot, coming to stop beside her a moment later.

“I knew Matilda was going to be trouble the first time I saw her,” Francis said, sending a disgusted look to Matilda, which she blatantly ignored as she rooted around the sidewalk in an obvious attempt to search out more treats.

“He didn’t really mean that, Princess,” Agatha crooned before she tugged on the leash and began walking again.

“I did mean it, but we have more important matters to discuss, such as why we’re going to the
New-York Tribune
.” He swung his attention to Drusilla and quirked a brow.

Drusilla quirked a brow of her own. “Don’t look at me. I thought we were going to spend the day investigating brothels.”

Francis immediately turned grumpy. “Agatha, I thought you and I agreed that, if you decided to do something dodgy, you’d tell me and allow me to come with you.”

“Since I’d made plans to travel to the
New-York Tribune
today before Dot imparted the news about Mary, I was determined to follow through with those plans first. So, in all honesty, it’s not as if I neglected to tell you anything. And it’s hardly my fault Drusilla assumed I’d want to immediately take off to investigate brothels.”

“But you
are
planning on investigating Dot’s tip?” Francis pressed.

“Of course, but not in broad daylight. And I’ll be in disguise, as you will be, so there’s absolutely no need for your grouchy attitude.”

“Absolutely not,” Francis argued. “Being out here is bad
enough, even with all of Theodore’s men following us, but going into a brothel knowing Mary and her girls might be there, well, that’s just too dangerous.”

Agatha craned her neck. “I didn’t know we had men following us.”

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Right,” Agatha said even as she scanned the crowded sidewalk again, but she couldn’t spot a single man she thought might work for Theodore. “I must admit that knowing we have extra eyes on us does make me feel better.”

“You’re nervous about being out here?” Francis asked slowly.

“I’m not completely oblivious to the danger I’m in,” Agatha admitted with a lift of her chin. “I know traveling about the city as myself might cause a, er, situation, but I can’t continue to hide for the rest of my life.” Her chin lifted another notch. “That’s why I’ve decided to inform my editor that, as of today, I’m no longer going to write under the name of Alfred Wallenstate.”

Drusilla narrowed her eyes. “You never told me that you were considering abandoning your pen name.”

“Well, now you know.” Agatha jerked forward as Matilda began scampering down the street again.

“You’ll be dead within a week, two at the most, if you begin writing under your name,” Francis said the moment he caught up with her.

“No, I won’t.”

“I have to agree with Francis on this,” Drusilla said, panting slightly when she reached Agatha’s side. “You have a very distinctive writing style, and everyone in the city will realize you’ve been writing as Alfred. Why, you’ll be mobbed by all the irate criminals you’ve written about in the past. Right now we’re probably only trying to find one irate person,
maybe two, besides Mary and her girls, but if word gets out you’re behind all those articles, well, I don’t think we’ll be able to keep you alive.”

Agatha shook her head. “I’m going to respectfully disagree. If I write my articles penned under my real name, I believe all those shady characters I write about will simply disregard what I’ve written because I’m a woman. They’ll just assume I’m some flighty young miss bent on amusement, while others, those like Dot, will still be able to take comfort from the idea someone is writing about their plight in life.”

Drusilla sighed. “Strange as it seems, that almost makes sense.”

“Good, because we’re here, and I’m determined to move forward with my idea.” Agatha pulled Matilda to a stop in front of the
New-York Tribune
. Glancing up, she gave herself a moment to simply stand there and appreciate the building’s spire tower, a sight that never failed to move her. In the midst of the troubling situation with Zayne, she’d allowed herself to forget that she’d managed to make her way in a profession that catered to men—but no more. She was a journalist, a good journalist. When Zayne had left her two years before, she’d made the decision that she was not meant to live the life of a normal lady—she was meant to sniff out the injustices of the day.

Normal ladies were expected to remain safe inside a house with a brood of children tugging on their skirts while their big, strong husbands kept them safe. She’d never be satisfied living such a life—even if she had occasionally thought about what her children might look like if Zayne just happened to be their father.

She pushed that idea firmly aside and reminded herself that she needed to focus on her career, not a love life, and
especially not a life with Zayne. This was the first step in reclaiming her life
and
her ambition.

Pulling Matilda away from the leg of a gentleman the little pig had taken to investigating, she edged off the sidewalk and moved to the front door of the
New-York Tribune
.

“Are you certain about this?” Drusilla asked.

“Fairly certain, and if nothing else, walking through this building with Matilda by my side will certainly draw notice. If we’re fortunate, someone will write a story about it, or at least a small posting in the society page.”

Francis rolled his eyes. “That’s reassuring.”

“You don’t really want to have to guard me forever, do you?”

“If it means keeping you alive, of course I do.”

“You really aren’t a horrible man after all.”

Before Francis had an opportunity to respond, someone opened the front door of the
New-
York Tribune
and Matilda charged through it, leaving Agatha with no option but to follow. Tugging Matilda to a more manageable rate of speed, she nodded to a few of her fellow journalists who were milling around and continued forward.

“You’re definitely drawing attention,” Drusilla exclaimed when she caught up to her. “And just out of curiosity, how many of these gentlemen actually know who you are?”

“Quite a few.”

“What do you mean, quite a few?” Francis demanded.

Agatha pulled Matilda to a stop. “While the public knows me only as Alfred Wallenstate—except for that scoundrel, or two, or maybe three, who wants me dead—there are numerous journalists here who have seen me meeting with my editor from time to time, and . . . because they’re journalists, a few of them figured out who I am.”

“Why wasn’t Theodore or I ever informed of this?”

“I highly doubt someone at the
New-York Tribune
is trying to do me in. They’d have little incentive to do so, since I’ve never written about them, and—”

“
Pigs
are not allowed in this establishment,” a voice suddenly proclaimed, causing Agatha to stop mid-word and glance up. She found herself pinned under the glare of a thin gentleman who looked somewhat familiar. He blinked and then blinked again. “I say, is that you, Miss Watson?”

Before Agatha could speak, let alone remember the gentleman’s name, Matilda lurched forward, pulling the leash out of Agatha’s hand as she charged directly at the gentleman standing in front of them. The poor man’s eyes bulged, he let out a remarkably high shriek, and then spun around and raced away in the opposite direction with Matilda in hot pursuit, Francis a step behind the pig.

Agatha rushed forward but was forced to a stop a second later when a man stepped directly in her path.

“Why am I not surprised to find you responsible for this latest fiasco, Miss Watson?” Mr. George Chambers, her editor at the newspaper, asked, tugging his jacket over his large frame even as he shook his head at her.

Smiling, she shook her head back at him. “Everyone knows it’s the mark of a great journalist to be in the midst of fiascos on a regular basis.”

“Very prettily said, but tell me, what have you brought for me today? And I’m warning you, it’d better be good.”

“My articles are always good, but I don’t have a story for you, since I just sent you an entire feature last week regarding gold mines.”

Mr. Chambers waved that away with a beefy hand. “Yes, yes, the feature you gave me on the gold mines was fascinating,
but I need something new, and I need something now. Mr. Reid has gone off and done the unthinkable, and I’m short a feature story for this weekend.”