A Match of Wits (28 page)

“Yes, well, since you should be home, where young girls are supposed to be at this late hour, I don’t think you should be throwing nasty accusations my way, do you?”

“We’ll just be on our way to get help,” Grace said before she hurried back to the window, allowing Agatha to give her a hand up before she disappeared.

Agatha helped Lily next and was just reaching for Piper when the doorknob began to rattle. Agatha barely had time to blink before it crashed open and a large man burst into the
room. “The boss has arrived, and he . . . Who are you trying to shove out that window?” he bellowed.

“Lily, Grace, go find Theodore!” Agatha yelled before she pulled Piper to the floor right as bullets began whizzing around the room.

O
ne thought kept repeating itself again and again and again through Zayne’s mind.

Agatha wasn’t dead.

She couldn’t be.

She was a vibrant, resourceful, extremely intelligent woman, and because of that . . . she’d find a way to stay alive until they could find her. The only problem was . . . they truly had no idea where to look.

Theodore had his men scouring the city, and the police had been called in as well, but time was passing all too quickly, and . . .

“She’s not dead,” he said out loud, even though he was alone in the carriage. “She’s out there, somewhere, and when we find her, I’m marrying her whether she accepts my proposal or not.”

Resting his head against the side of the carriage, he closed his eyes, turning to God for what felt like the millionth time that evening, pleading with Him to keep Agatha safe. Feeling the carriage begin to slow, he opened his eyes as the carriage
came to a complete stop, and he found Hamilton bending toward the window from his position on top of his horse.

“Theodore and I are going to loop through all the back alleys, but some of them are narrow and your coach won’t fit. We haven’t gone all the way down Park Avenue yet, so it’ll be a great help if you make sure there’s no suspicious activity going on there. Meet me back at my house in three hours if we haven’t crossed paths by then.” Hamilton ran a hand through hair that was standing on end. “We’ll find her, Zayne, you have to believe that, and we’ll find the younger girls as well—although I’m hoping they were simply out doing whatever it is young girls feel they should do in the midst of disasters and have turned up by now.”

Zayne’s first instinct was to argue. He didn’t want to waste his time traveling down Park Avenue, an area of the city that was completely respectable and probably the last place on earth Agatha had been taken. She’d most likely been taken somewhere deep in the bowels of the stews, or put on a boat, or . . .

Shaking himself out of those less than productive thoughts, he nodded, finding it impossible to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat.

Hamilton leaned closer. “I know this is hard for you, Zayne. I understand your anguish, but with that leg of yours . . .” Shaking his head, Hamilton straightened in the saddle, turned his horse, and galloped away.

“We’re going to Park Avenue, Andrews!” Zayne yelled out the carriage window to his driver before he settled back against the seat. He heard the snap of the reins, and the carriage jolted into motion, picking up speed and maintaining that speed because the roads were practically empty since the hour was late. Most people were either still in the midst of their entertainments that would last until the sun came
up or were nestled snug in their beds, completely oblivious to the fact Zayne’s world had turned on end.

How Zayne wished he were one of those people at the moment. When Arabella had first stated that Agatha was gone, he’d almost crumpled to the ground, thinking she meant Agatha was dead.

When it became clear she’d been taken, not killed, everyone had swarmed into motion. It wasn’t too long after that, after they’d stopped by Agatha’s house, where Theodore had ordered his men to meet, that it had become known that Piper, Lily, Grace, and Matilda were missing as well.

He was fairly certain they weren’t truly missing, just misplaced, but the thought of the children becoming inadvertently drawn into whatever madness was occurring at the moment left him cold and furious.

He was responsible for what had transpired this dark, dark night.

If he’d not gone after Helena but had instead done what his heart had been screaming at him to do—gone after Agatha—she wouldn’t have felt compelled to go to some brothel, and wouldn’t have put her life in danger.

He didn’t deserve Agatha, but even knowing that, he was still going to do everything in his power to convince her they truly were meant to be together forever . . . once someone found her.

The carriage suddenly slowed to a mere crawl, and impatience had him sticking his head out the window. “What seems to be the matter, Andrews?”

“There are some horses blocking the road up ahead, sir. I’m not sure what they’re doing there, but no one seems to be around to move them out of the way.”

Apprehension had sweat rolling down his back. “Could you come help me out of the carriage?”

“Sir?”

“There shouldn’t be horses roaming around the street at this hour of the night, Andrews. I’m going to go investigate, but I’m going to need my cart taken down from the back.”

“I don’t think that’s wise, sir. As you said, horses don’t normally roam the streets unattended, and you’re in no shape to deal with whatever is happening here. We should turn around and find assistance.”

“My cart, if you please.”

He heard Andrews mutter something under his breath, but the man climbed down from his seat, moved to the back of the carriage, and reappeared a minute later, his expression decidedly concerned.

“Shall I run along beside you, sir?”

“That won’t be necessary. Stay with the carriage and ease up further on the street, but do prepare yourself for a fast getaway.” Zayne climbed from the carriage, reached back and snagged hold of his crutches, and held them out to Andrews. “Would you put these on the back of the cart? I might require them if I need to walk somewhere.”

Andrews sent him a look that clearly expressed doubt, but he moved to the cart, tied the crutches on the back, and then blew out a breath. “If I may be so bold, sir, I know the situation is dire, but Miss Watson is an uncommonly resourceful lady, and I have to believe she’ll somehow manage to come out of this latest disaster just fine.” He helped Zayne into the cart and leaned closer to him for a second. “I’ll be saying prayers for everyone’s safe return.”

As Zayne shot forward faster than he’d anticipated, he knew prayers, and lots of them, were certainly going to be needed.

Minutes later, he’d negotiated around the horses but still had yet to find any sign of people who might own those horses. He traveled past darkened house after darkened house, grateful for the sparse light the gas lamps threw out, especially since it had begun to snow. Snowflakes were covering his head at a rapid rate, and he blinked when one fell in his eye and blinked again when something caught his attention, someone charging his way—a lady.

As the lady came closer, he realized it was Agatha running toward him, holding Piper by the hand, but someone else was chasing after her, and that someone had a gun.

“I’m coming, Agatha!” he yelled as he pushed the button that was only meant to be pushed when going uphill. The cart thrust forward, and he realized a second later that he’d lost all control of it. The steering column wouldn’t turn, and before he knew it, he was blazing
past
Agatha and Piper and heading directly toward the man with the gun, who jumped out of the way as Zayne’s cart zoomed onward. He stomped on the brake pedal, but even though he was pressing it completely against the bottom of the cart, he continued to fly forward.

Looking up, he found an entire group of men running his way, their pace slowing as they caught sight of him. A few of them dove for cover the closer he got, but some weren’t fast enough and he winced as the cart bumped into one man after another before he finally came to a stop, directly over a ferocious-looking and profusely swearing man who seemed to be lodged under his front wheels.

“Get this off me,” the man rasped.

“Right,” Zayne said, reaching around for his crutches, but freezing in place when a pistol suddenly appeared in his face.

“Get your hands where I can see them, Mr. Beckett,” the man holding the pistol growled.

Holding up his hands, Zayne lifted his head, but the man leaning over him had his hat pulled low and his collar high. Zayne couldn’t make out his features. “Who are you?”

“Why, I’m Mr. Jenkins, of course—reporter extraordinaire for the
New-York Tribune
.” Mr. Jenkins released a nasty laugh. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Beckett, you’ve just caused me to lose my prey—that being Miss Watson. I really was hoping I could put an end to her once and for all, but she has once again slipped away, and for that, my dear man, I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay.”

Zayne tilted his head and considered the man. “Why would you tell me your name and that you work at the paper?”

“You asked and it would be impolite not to answer you.”

“Meaning you intend to kill me and I won’t be able to tell anyone.”

“What a bright gentleman you are, Mr. Beckett.”

The man still lying under Zayne’s cart released a grunt. “Did you call this man Mr. Beckett?”

“I did. You should feel honored that you’ve been run over by none other than Mr. Zayne Beckett of the illustrious Beckett family.”

Zayne frowned. “How do you know who I am?”

“I’m a reporter, Mr. Beckett, and a good one. I know everything about this city.”

“I didn’t sign up to take on the Beckett family.” The man underneath the cart shoved up, and Zayne found himself dumped to the ground. Rolling over to his back, he stiffened as the man loomed over him.

“My apologies, Mr. Beckett,” the man said, taking Zayne completely by surprise. “I have no quarrel with you or your family, and I do apologize if you’re in any way connected to that lady we snatched tonight who happens to be the same
lady we were hired to run over with a carriage. We won’t be bothering her again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be on my way.” The man let out a whistle as he dashed down the sidewalk, joined a few seconds later by a group of men, all of whom disappeared into the darkness.

“You haven’t finished the job you were paid to do yet!” Mr. Jenkins screamed after them. “Miss Watson is still out there somewhere.”

“I don’t think they’re coming back,” Zayne said, earning himself a whack on the head with the pistol in the process.

“No, it doesn’t seem as if they are, but no matter. I’ll deal with them later.”

“You don’t truly believe you’re going to get away with this, do you, Mr. Jenkins? Theodore Wilder will not rest until he hunts you down, and even though the man has mellowed since he married
my
sister
, he doesn’t take kindly to men trying to murder ladies.”

The man let out a laugh that held what was clearly a note of insanity. “Mr. Wilder has been searching for me for over a year to no avail, probably because he’s been centering his attention on the subjects of Miss Watson’s articles while I’ve walked freely under his nose. I’m not that concerned he’ll be able to find me once I finish matters with you and Miss Watson. I fully intend to disappear, and I’m very good at reinventing myself, Mr. Beckett. I assure you, I’ll succeed once again.”

Wanting to keep the man talking in order to allow Agatha and Piper time to get farther away, Zayne struggled for something else to say. “I find myself curious, sir, as to why you’re so determined to get rid of Agatha. What exactly has she done to garner your intense dislike?”

“Why, she’s a woman, of course.”

“That’s your reasoning behind wanting her dead?”

“She’s chosen to enter a profession she has no business being in, and she was given stories that should have gone to a man. Women have no business traipsing through the slums, or questioning factory owners. They should be at home, raising children, and leaving professions to men, as it’s always been meant to be.”

“Agatha’s a gifted writer. Why should she be expected to abandon that gift simply because she was born a woman?”

Mr. Jenkins waved the question away. “I would have left her alone after she went out west, if she would have stopped submitting stories that were earning her awards. It was beyond frustrating, seeing her win again and again, and it was also frustrating that the paper paid for her bodyguard, which severely limited her chances of getting killed by some random outlaw. That’s why I was forced to hire Mary and her small band of idiots. I got tired of watching Miss Watson garner all that praise and decided she needed to be taken care of once and for all. I’ve now come to the belief, though, that I’m going to have to be the one to kill her if I want the job done right.”