Victoria detected the bitterness in his voice. Resentment tugged at his clenched jaw, and his sudden silence spoke volumes. Whatever sat between Sophie and Alastair was heavier than the gray clouds looming above the carriage. Did Alastair know about Sophie’s alleged crimes? Victoria swallowed, and her mouth grew dry. “Sophie has been very kind to take me in.”
He nodded and straightened in his seat. “Sophie has her good points…amidst the others.”
Mav restrained himself from looking at Sophie. The woman was at the jewelry counter, showing a customer the most expensive pieces—the ones under lock and key, subsequently requiring Sophie herself; she wore the key around her neck.
He wanted to study her, collect as many clues as possible, but Mav knew better. He couldn’t risk her suspicion. He’d barely made the cut; Holden hadn’t held as much sway as Mav had hoped, needed, and convincing Sophie of Mav’s value to her emporium had proven difficult. He’d resorted to brute force, exposing Holden’s mistakes—which resulted in Holden’s demoted status of scat-cleaner—and persuading Sophie of his superior ability to move goods. He’d proposed a door-man position so that he could monitor the shipments and stock the shelves, all while keeping an eye on Victoria and Sophie.
“Heavens,” Sophie said.
Mav turned his head, just in time to see the woman fanning her cheek. He stepped forward. “Mrs. Kemp, are you well?” He detested speaking so formally, but difficult times called for such measures. “Shall I get you a glass of water?”
She gasped, and a snicker touched her lips. “I’m quite well, Larsen. I’ve only been blindsided by Mr. Truett’s shocking—and dear I say ridiculous—offer.” She turned to the stout man at her side and held up an ornament. “Don’t you have any idea of the worth of this? A pearl and diamond spray brooch as large as this?” She ‘tsk’ed. “I have the mind to turn you away this instant.”
Mr. Truett’s face turned scarlet, and he cleared his throat at least thrice before lifting his hands in the air. “I meant no offense, Sophie. I’ve only heard that you get a cut below most wholesale prices.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I haven’t a clue of what you mean. Are you insinuating I have underhanded dealings?” Her eyes narrowed. “If Harry were alive to hear you speak of such a thing…”
Mr. Truett shuffled backward. His brows turned down, and his eyes glistened. “My apologies, Sophie. I’d never wish to upset you, or Harry, for that matter. He was always the best of men. I’ll take the brooch for your full asking price.”
She nodded, and her offended expression softened. “I’ll have it wrapped.”
Mav cleared his throat and returned to his post at the entrance. Mr. Truett had fallen into Sophie’s trap. She’d played the simplest trick in the book by eliciting sympathy and feigning innocence. Mav had found that women, when faced with difficulty, often resorted to such tactics first, and he was always surprised when people fell for the bait. Did men believe women incapable of deception?
Judd had. Mav winced at the recollection. His older brother’s—and the rest of the Reno gang’s—demise had started and ended with a woman, Eloise Nielsen. Judd Jones hadn’t been himself after meeting the Swedish woman; he’d lost his mind. And if it weren’t for Eloise, the gang would have stuck to their plan and boarded the first train out of town. The Pinkerton agents never would have caught them, and Judd would still be alive.
Mav inhaled. Perhaps things had turned out for the best, Eloise Nielsen and all. If Judd hadn’t died, and the Reno gang was still intact, Mav wouldn’t be an agent. He’d still be running with the outlaw brotherhood. In truth, he’d never cared for that lifestyle. The conditions of being a part of the Reno Gang weren’t worth the riches. Mav had injured more than his fair share of innocent people, and he’d seen the results of the gang’s heartless tactics.
A lifetime of service to justice wouldn’t make up for his mistakes.
A carriage pulled to the front of the emporium, and Mav looked up just in time to see Victoria descend. Alastair Kinley assisted her down the step, smiling much too openly and adoringly. Alastair’s hair was far too styled. His dress was exaggerated. In fact, there wasn’t a single thing about the man that Mav found tolerable.
“I’ll have your produce delivered to the apartment,” Alastair said when they reached the doors. He snapped his fingers at the carriage driver and then turned back to Victoria. “I’ve been telling my sister she needs to eat more than crackers and tea.”
Victoria nodded. “Sophie is lucky to have a brother to look out for her. Thank you, for your help today.”
Alastair tugged at his collar. “I do what I can, happily.” His eyes swept over Victoria’s figure and face once more. His expression turned serious. “Why don’t you join me for dinner tonight, Miss MacGregor? Sophie insists I join her. We’re dining at Del Mar’s.”
Victoria cleared her throat. “Me?”
“Come on, it’ll be splendid, Victoria. The mayor, actresses, politicians, heirs—even the famous Lotta Crabtree will be there. You can’t stay in that silly apartment every night. Might as well join me and make new friends.”
Mav’s hands balled into fists. Alastair’s use of Victoria’s first name felt inappropriately intimate. He swallowed and looked to her for some kind of feedback.
Victoria scratched the back of her neck, seeming to contemplate Alastair’s offer. “Lotta Crabtree? She’s one of the best actresses in all of America. I saw her in a play in New York once. I forgot she was from San Francisco.” A soft smile replaced Victoria’s indecision. “I’d be delighted to accompany you, Mr. Kinley.”
Alastair seized her hand and planted a kiss on its front. “I shall collect you at precisely eight. Dress in your finest.”
Mav rolled his eyes in an effort to keep from cringing. Business or not, Victoria was his wife, and Mav didn’t like seeing another man romancing her.
“I’ll be there,” Victoria assured Alastair.
“Whatever are you doing to the poor woman?” Sophie stepped past Mav and out onto the porch.
Alastair started, dropping Victoria’s hand. “Just wishing Miss MacGregor a good day.”
Sophie’s brows pinched together. “And where have you been? Mr. Truett is here, and I had to show him a brooch in your place. He gave the most insulting offer.” She flicked her head toward the jewelry counter. “Luckily he’s repented, and I’ve someone wrapping the piece as we speak. Come, you must speak to him.”
Alastair nodded. “Certainly.” He took one step but stopped, turning back to Victoria. “I look forward to the evening.”
She blushed, and her eyes darted to Mav. Her mouth parted, as if she would speak, but then she swallowed and looked to the floor.
Alastair chuckled, tipped his hat in her direction, and joined his sister’s side by Mr. Truett. The three of them began to ascend the stairs in the direction of the office.
Victoria sighed and gathered the edges of her dress. She moved past Mav, but he caught her by the arm when no one was looking.
“Enjoying your part as Miss MacGregor?” He smirked.
She pulled her arm from his touch. Her eyes widened. “You told me to find something to preoccupy my time. Besides, gaining the trust of Alastair will be beneficial to the case. Don’t you agree?”
He nodded. There was no denying the truth of her words. In fact, Mav felt childish. He had no real claim on Victoria. He hadn’t wanted one—he was the one who had declared their arrangement strictly business. But there was something about her. Each time she was near, Mav felt an inexplicable desire to protect her. His eyes lazily fell to her lips, and the memory of their wedding kiss filled his mind.
“Now, when I’m at dinner tonight, is there anyone you’d like me to converse with—other than Sophie?” She removed her gloves and shook them.
He retreated back one step in an attempt to clear his mind. “Sophie and Alastair are your best bets of gaining information, but be aware of anyone that might provide clues—those you converse with at di
nner, the servants, the host, the giggly lady in the corner; there’s always one of those.”
Victoria’s brows sloped downward, and her chest rose with each breath.
Was that the effect of nerves, or was something else bothering her? He glanced around the store once more, noticing only customers immersed in their shopping efforts. Mav faced her. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
Her brown eyes grew round, and a faint line near one eye deepened. He could hardly keep himself from kissing that lovely line. Victoria shifted her weight. “Alastair said something—”
“Larsen.” Sophie stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I request your presence in my office immediately.” Her gaze landed on Victoria next. “Alastair told me he invited you to dinner. There’s no time to waste. Make sure you are bathed and ready.”
Victoria assured Sophie of her promptness, and Mav left without so much as a glance at his bride.
He had spent some time wondering when Sophie would call him in. Women and men in positions of power always did. For criminals and backward folks, tests of trust were essential. Loyalty was required in all things, in all places. Mav only hoped he could stomach the test in front of him.
Sophie’s office on the second floor was, like the rest of the emporium, spacious and sparkling. Wood beams ran across the upper half of the wall and across the ceilings, resembling flying buttresses of the gothic revival. The maroon-papered wall was ornamented with paintings and pedestal statues. A small spiral staircase in the corner led to a small landing.
Mav sat in front of the arched window. He didn’t bother turning when Sophie shut the door. “Well,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “What will you have me do?”
She laughed aloud, drawing Mav’s attention. “Then you’ve been in similar situations before, Mr. Larson?”
He dipped his chin. “Always a show of loyalty. I’m prepared to answer your request, if that’s what it takes.”
She paced the length of the room, stopping to tap her fingers against her desk. “How do you know my protégé, Miss MacGregor?” She shook her head, and her lips curled.
“Protégé?” His eyes widened, and he stood. His mind raced as he contemplated how he might answer. A thought lit his eyes, and he smiled. “I thought you were one of a kind, Mrs. Kemp.” He walked closer, only stopping when he towered over her. “I know nothing of that woman, except that she asked which color your brother favored. Something about a dress for tonight’s dinner.”
Sophie tapped a bony finger against her cheek. “Miss MacGregor has yet to prove her loyalty, but by the end of tonight I hope to know more. Now,” she said, pausing to inhale, “you will also accompany the party, but as my assistant.”
“Of course.” Mav leaned closer, wondering just what Sophie had in mind for Victoria. He doubted his partner had a clue as to the ways of such women.
“Miss Lotta Crabtree, the famed actress, is rumored to be carrying a pink diamond on her person. I’ve heard she wears it in a ring, looped in a chain and around her neck. Your job is to take it. I’ve long promised a pink diamond in my emporium.”
Mav’s jaw dropped. He’d expected something illegal, dangerous even, but this? He crossed his arms and scowled. “What you’re asking is ridiculous. I’ve never met the woman, and even if I had, you can’t expect me to get the woman alone and steal such an expensive piece without her notice?”
“I can, and I do expect such a prize, if you wish to continue working for me.” Her eyes fluttered, and she sighed. “I have a talent, Mr. Larsen, of sizing up others. Some say it ranges in the psychic realm. Call it what you will, but I am able to see others’ capabilities, and you have quite the range of abilities—something I find incredibly promising and useful.” She sat in her seat and began penning a letter. “I must have your show of loyalty.”
Mav swallowed hard. Despite his protests, getting the diamond wasn’t his worry. More than that, he worried he’d feel the thrill he experienced on each of the Reno Gang robberies, and he so desperately wanted to believe he was more than a petty thief. “I’ll be there tonight,” he said, setting his fist on the table for emphasis. “But if this is a sting of any sort, you’ll be making an enemy.”
Sophie threw back her head and laughed. She laughed until her voice grew raspy. “I’m no lawman, Larsen, but you…you’re still on trial.”
6
According to Marianne, the pale green dress paired lovely with Victoria’s skin and hair. Victoria spun in front of the mirror, fixating on the longer hem in the back that spun in the air. Cream lace adorned her collar and sleeves, and floral clusters dotted the dress in varying places. She sighed, wishing Marianne was there to comfort and confide in, to ask and explain. Victoria’s head had become a vortex of questions, thoughts, feelings, and worries.
She’d hardly seen Mav since exiting the train car. She was supposed to meet him at the harbor tonight, but considering her plans with Sophie and Alastair, she doubted she’d make it. She clicked her tongue, returning her gaze to her reflection. She pinched her cheeks, more in an effort to distract her thoughts than to bring color.
Her continuous desire to be near Mav frightened her. He’d make it clear that he expected nothing more from their partnership than solving the case, and Victoria was setting herself up for heartache.
She dropped to the chair at her side. At least she’d found a friend in Alastair. He’d spent more than half the day parading around the market with her. He was more than willing to help her—guiding her through the crowd and in and out of carriages, offering his services at every turn, placing his hand on her back when she wobbled along muddy ruts, and giving her farewell kisses on the hand.
She’d almost forgot she was technically a married woman. No man had shown her so much consideration. The fact that Alastair was significantly older and more like an uncle was a shame.
The clock outside her bedroom struck on the hour, and Victoria started forward, grabbing her reticule. Her feet flew out the apartment and down the three flights of stairs.
Alastair and Sophie stood at the bottom, and Sophie looked unimpressed by Victoria’s late arrival.
“Pardon me,” Victoria explained, catching her breath. “I had the most difficult time getting into my dress without a maid.”
Alastair’s eyes flooded over her, and his lips tugged in approval. “Miss MacGregor, you are a vision of loveliness.” He held out his arm. “Please, tell me you won’t leave my side tonight.”
She smiled. Why couldn’t Mav speak to her like that? She cleared her throat. “If you would like.”
Sophie’s lashes fluttered in seeming annoyance. “Can we go? I do hate to be late. I’ve sent Larsen to notify the driver.”
Just then, there was a knock against the door.
Sophie inhaled. “That’ll be him.”
The door flung open, and Victoria almost lost her balance when she saw Mav standing there, dressed in a black suit. He wore a top hat and looked like a proper gentleman.
“You remember my doorman, Mr. Larsen?” Sophie asked, flicking her chin toward Mav. “I’ve decided to bring him. One never knows when such a man might be of use.”
Alastair pulled Victoria’s hand around his arm and whispered in her ear. “As I said, my sister goes through men like dresses. Tomorrow she’ll be liable to have a new one, and this Larsen fellow will be back on the street.”
Victoria was neither recovered from the shock of seeing Mav or the significant changes in his appearance. He was handsome; she’d determined that upon their first meeting in the Pinkerton office years ago. But now, with that suit and his hair styled so handsomely… She inhaled as she past him at the door. Was that cologne he was wearing?
“Miss MacGregor,” Mav said between his teeth. “A nice evening for a party.”
She met his eyes, and her cheeks betrayed her, flooding with pink. “Mr. Larsen.”
There was a glint in his honey colored eyes that bespoke of secrets. Victoria was sure he meant to convey som
ething. She dropped her reticule at his feet. “Pardon me,” she said, crouching down to retrieve it at the same time as Mav did so.
He retrieved the bag with speed, but his fingers lingered near hers. “Be careful,” was all he whispered.
There was a double meaning in his words; she was sure of it. Victoria stood and retook Alastair’s arm. “I suppose I flew down those stairs in such a hurry that I haven’t quite regained my footing.”
Alastair smiled. “Not to worry. Let’s get you into the carriage. Sophie is in one of her moods. If I weren’t mistaken…” He looked to Sophie, who was leaning out the door, gesturing for the rest of the party to join her, and pressed his lips together.
“What is it?” Victoria asked.
He shook his head. “Oh, nothing I’m sure. She had a look about her. I could have sworn she was up to something.”
The rest of the group filtered in, and the ride was filled with only the swaying of the carriage. Victoria refused to look at Mav, and she could only feel his gaze for a moment now and again.
They reached Del Mar’s in a quarter of an hour, and Sophie directed them through the back entrance and into the hotel’s ballroom. The room was lined in pillars and arches, rising to a center dome above the stone floor. Chandeliers filled with candles hung from the meridian of the room, illuminating the tapestry-filled walls and decorated banquet tables.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Alastair asked when he caught her staring.
Victoria nodded. “I hadn’t thought San Francisco had such a hotel and restaurant. I’ve only seen the likes of this back East.”
“William Ralston,” he said, pointing toward a man ten-feet away, “has built a summer home that’s even grander than Del Mar’s. I’ve had the pleasure of visiting its ‘Versailles’ ballroom and ‘opera box’ gallery. Perhaps I can introduce you, and you’ll be able to see for yourself?”
An Agent for Victoria Page 5
