by Aileen Fish
“Now, now…” Angela waved her hand in the air. “Enough boasting about my accomplishments. I’m sure they are overrated.”
Nicole chuckled. Not often did she see this side of the Secret Agent.
“So tell me, Margaret,” Angela lowered her voice, “have you heard anything lately about Conrail’s train robberies? There are so many rumors, I just don’t know what to believe.”
Holding her breath, Nicole kept herself from overreacting. Angela must have told Mrs. Merriweather something about her secret life. Why else would she ask such a question?
“Actually, yes,” she whispered and leaned closer. “Rumor has it that the thief was spotted during their last robbery, and the guards were able to get a better description of him.”
Nicole gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Why hadn’t the agents heard this yet?
“Do tell,” Angela urged.
“Apparently, he’s a tall, strappingly handsome man with dark brown hair. Rumor has it that he’s young, too.”
“How young?” Nicole whispered, not really wanting to hear this, especially if it pointed to Ashton.
“Probably in his late twenties or even early thirties.” Mrs. Merriweather nodded. “I’ve heard he dresses like a gentleman, too.”
A throb began to pound in Nicole’s forehead. Too many similarities that made Ashton a prime suspect. Then again, she didn’t know if she should trust this woman or not. However, by Angela’s wide-eyed expression, she seemed to believe her.
“I don’t think the police have given such a perfect description of the robber. How remarkable,” Angela muttered.
“Isn’t it though?” Margaret shook her head.
“Well, I thank you for clearing that up for me.” Angela folded her hands across her large bosom. “I just hope the police are looking for the right person now.”
“I pray that as well.” Mrs. Merriweather smiled. “I better be on my way now. I hope to see you again soon.” She turned her attention to Nicole. “And it was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” Nicole watched the other woman waddle down the street a ways before she turned to Angela and scowled. “What exactly does Mrs. Merriweather think you do?”
Chuckling, Angela shook her head. “My sweet girl, there are some of us who were spies during the war, you know.” She nodded in the direction Mrs. Merriweather was walking. “She was a spy during the war. She’s not one now because she remarried after her husband died, and she is just fine with her role as his wife.”
“Oh,” Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. “So do we believe her about the thief’s description?”
Angela arched an eyebrow. “Margaret is one of the biggest busybodies I know, so if she says that’s the rumor…I believe her.”
Inwardly, Nicole groaned. She really didn’t want to hear that.
“And I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Angela said softly as she touched Nicole’s hand. “You are thinking this points to Mr. Lee, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “I still don’t believe he did it, though, but I have no proof.”
“What is telling you this, my dear girl? Is it your head—or your heart?”
Nicole shrugged and tried to smile. “I wish I knew the difference between the two.”
“You will when the time comes.”
Angela stepped toward the millinery’s shop and Nicole grudgingly followed. As the other woman chatted with the milliner, Nicole slowly wandered through the shop, but wasn’t really looking at anything. Not when her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.
Her chest grew heavy with worry, yet her mind argued that they still haven’t found any solid proof that Ashton was involved with the train robberies. The extra money in his bank account didn’t mean anything…and neither did this description going around town.
What she needed was hard, physical proof, and somehow, some way, she needed to get it. But how? She’d be at his house for a dinner party in a few days, yet how could she sneak around without everyone knowing? The fact was, she couldn’t. She needed her brother or father—or even Mrs. Phelps—to do the sneaking while she was keeping Ashton and his guests entertained.
Nicole moved to the window and leaned against the pane as she stared out into the busy street. Sighing, she frowned. Now, what kind of proof could they search for in Ashton’s house? He wasn’t stupid enough to keep the stolen money lying around, so looking for that is out of the question. And if he were involved, he wouldn’t be doing this alone. He’d definitely need help, so perhaps he has some correspondence in his study somewhere. Maybe even in his room. Possibly, but she for sure wasn’t going to convince him to take her to his room just so she could look. No, her brother would be better at doing that.
Although…did she want her brother in the same house where she and Ashton were? Especially when she practically melted every time that sensual man looked at her with his desire-laden hazel eyes?
She quickly shook herself out of the stupor she’d been falling in, and concentrated harder on her plans. So, Gordon would just have to stay away from the house that night. Mrs. Phelps could do it—or the other two agents could as well. They wouldn’t be watching her every move and hearing her every sigh like her brother would.
“All right, Miss Bastian, I’m ready now.” Mrs. Phelps bustled past her and to the door.
Nicole followed right behind. When they were out on the street once more, she said, “I think I have a plan for the night of Ashton’s dinner party.”
Angela’s footsteps slowed and she watched her with curious eyes. “What kind of plan?” she spoke in a low voice.
“I was thinking that while I’m being entertained by Mr. Lee and his friends, that you or one of the other agents could sneak around in Mr. Lee’s bedroom. I’m not sure just how close his study is from where we’ll be dining, but if it’s not close, someone could look there, too.”
“What exactly should we be looking for?”
Nicole explained to her friend that if Ashton were involved, he wouldn’t be alone. Naturally, there would be some kind of letters back and forth about the plans to rob the train. Mrs. Phelps nodded as her smile widened.
“Splendid idea, Nicole. I believe that is something your brother could do.”
Groaning, she shook her head. “I don’t know if I want my brother there.”
“And why not? He’s as quiet as a mouse, you know. He’ll be able to get in and out without anyone hearing.”
Nicole blew out an aspirated breath. “Yes, you have a point. I just hope he worries more about searching for evidence than trying to keep an eye on me.” She tilted her head, looking sideways at Angela. “You don’t know how bothersome he can be when he plays the big brother part.”
“Now, now.” Angela patted Nicole’s arm. “You shouldn’t think such a way. He loves you and he would give his life for you—just as you would for him. Just be glad you have a brother. I wish mine was still alive.”
Frowning, Nicole shook her head. “I’d forgotten. He died during the war, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
Sometimes Nicole wished she would think before speaking. The war took a lot of loved-ones away. Indeed, even her own father and brother could have been taken if they hadn’t been working for President Grant.
“But back to the subject,” Angela continued, “I think it’s a brilliant plan, and I honestly believe Gordon is the right man for the job.”
“All right then, I’ll ask him tonight. Will you be coming to supper?”
“Of course. Banks and Cartwright will be there as well. We’ll all be sharing our report.” She winked at Nicole. “And you will have the best report yet, I’m sure.”
“Perhaps,” she said without conviction.
“Look. There is the St. Denis hotel. Let’s go inside and see if Mr. Lee’s dinner invitation has arrived yet.”
For the first time today, Nicole had energy in her legs as she practically ran a race with M
rs. Phelps to the hotel…and got there first. Of course, she allowed the older woman to go to the front desk first.
“Good day,” Mrs. Phelps greeted the clerk. “Did Miss Bastian get any mail today?”
“Let me check.” The older man turned toward the boxes on the wall until he found a letter. “Oh, here it is.” He handed it to Mrs. Phelps.
“Thank you, sir.”
Casually, she turned and started walking back out of the hotel. It was all Nicole could do to keep calm instead of yanking it out of the other woman’s hand. Once they stepped outside, Angela gave it to Nicole.
Her heart hammered so fast, she thought she’d faint. Breathing slowly, she calmed herself enough to open the letter.
My dearest Nicole, I hope this letter finds you well. As previously discussed, I will have a dinner party on Thursday of this week, starting at seven o’clock. There has been a slight change of plans, and instead of Mr. Larson and his wife picking you up, Mr. Nickerson and his companion will be your escorts. I look forward to seeing you again. With my deepest regard, Ashton Lee.
His deep, soothing voice rang in her ears as she read, and her body filled with warmth. She really did enjoy feeling this way, and sincerely hoped it would continue—as long as they didn’t find him to be the thief.
“What a kind man he is,” Mrs. Phelps whispered from over Nicole’s shoulder.
She jumped and turned her gaze on the other woman. “Did you read it?”
Angela grinned. “But of course.”
“I truly hope he’s not the person responsible for these train robberies,” she muttered more to herself than anything, but Angela heard and nodded.
“I can see how infatuated you are with him, so for your sake, I pray you’re right and that he isn’t involved in any way. But dearie,” she touched Nicole’s shoulder, “please guard your heart, just in case. Feeling the pain of heartache is not an enjoyable feeling.”
Nicole frowned and glanced down the street, trying to keep her eyes off the forlorn expression of the other woman. If luck were truly on Nicole’s side, she would never have to feel that kind of pain.
Chapter 10
Nicole sat waiting in the grand sitting room for Mr. Nickerson and his companion to arrive. She twisted a handkerchief in her white-gloved hands and bounced her legs in anticipation. Every time a couple strolled through the front door of the hotel, she stopped her jittering and watched them closely. The clerk at the front desk was instructed to tell anyone who came in for her that she was in the lobby waiting area. Since she’d been out here, three couples had come inside, but none of them asked for her. She didn’t know what Ashton’s friends looked like. Not really. Her uncle had pointed them out to her during General Babcock’s masked ball, but because they were wearing masks, she never saw their faces. She knew Glynn wasn’t very tall, but he had wide shoulders, and Steve was tall and slender.
Once the couple turned and walked away, Nicole continued to bounce her legs. She would be tempted to bite her nails, but thankfully, her gloves prevented her from doing that.
“I declare, Miss Bastian,” Mrs. Phelps said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this out of sorts before.” She tapped Nicole’s leg. “What has gotten you in such a dither?”
Nicole wished she knew that answer, but ever since she crawled out of bed this morning, she’d had a bad feeling…a feeling that something wasn’t right. Could her feeling be that something wasn’t going to turn out as planned? That idea was a fate worse than death—especially if she got caught.
“I wish I knew,” she muttered. “I just don’t feel good about this.”
“You should rest assure that everything will go well tonight, because your brother will be there sneaking around. All you have to do is keep everyone in the dining area for an hour, which will be easy since all of you will be eating.”
“Indeed, it does sound like a well-executed plan, but…” She shook her head. “I just can’t get rid of this knot in my stomach and the sinking feeling that something isn’t right.”
“What’s not right?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.” But deep down inside, she knew the precise moment she started having a sick feeling about everything. Last night when the Secret Agents had met together to go over their findings, Mrs. Phelps informed them about what Mrs. Merriweather had said. Her father informed them that he had gotten the same story from one of the local policemen when he’d questioned them about the train robbery suspects.
She hadn’t been able to sleep well last night. When she had fallen asleep, she dreamed about Ashton—about falling in love with him only to have her heart ripped from her chest when the policemen arrested him and hauled him to prison.
Nicole heard her name being called, and she swung her gaze toward the front desk. A man and a woman stood at the front counter. The clerk pointed in Nicole’s direction and the other two turned their eyes to her.
Her heartbeat quickened. This was Glynn Nickerson. His square-shaped body and receding hairline gave him away. It was now time to start performing.
She tapped Angela on the knee. “They are here.”
Nicole stood and took a deep breath, mentally reminding herself that tonight wasn’t any different from when she’d searched through General Babcock’s study to find the journal. Then again, she wouldn’t be the one sneaking around the house tonight. It was up to her to make sure everyone stayed in the dining room for a good hour.
The middle aged man’s smile widened the closer she came to him and his female companion. He didn’t resemble anyone she remembered from the masked ball, but it wasn’t Mr. Nickerson who made her nervous, either. It was the woman beside him. Confusion creased the woman’s narrowed gaze as she switched her focus between Nicole and Angela. Nicole had learned by now to trust her first instincts, and right now they were telling her to be leery of this lady. For a moment Nicole wondered if she felt that way because this whole situation bothered her, or if there really was something to be worried about.
“You must be Miss Bastian,” Mr. Nickerson greeted in a cheerful voice.
“Yes, I’m Miss Bastian. Are you Mr. Nickerson?”
“That’s correct.” He nodded. “And let me introduce you to my friend, Mrs. Browning.” He motioned toward the other woman.
Nicole smiled as sweetly as she could. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The tightness around Mrs. Browning’s smile relaxed a bit. “Indeed, it is a pleasure to meet the woman who has captured Ashton Lee’s attention.” She elbowed Glynn. “Isn’t it?”
Chuckling, he nodded. “It certainly is.”
Nicole motioned toward Angela. “And let me introduce you to my companion, Mrs. Phelps.”
Nickerson bowed slightly in greeting, but it was Mrs. Browning’s reaction that caused Nicole to wonder. The woman’s eyes widened as if she somehow recognized Angela or her name. Surely Mrs. Browning would say something if she had known Angela…yet, as the seconds ticked by, neither woman acknowledged the other.
“Shall we be off?” Mr. Nickerson asked.
“What time should I expect Miss Bastian to return?”
Nicole glanced at Angela and crinkled her forehead. It was odd that Angela’s voice was so snippy with Mr. Nickerson.
“No later than eleven,” Nickerson answered decidedly.
“Thank you. I shall be down here waiting.” Angela met Nicole’s gaze. “Enjoy yourself tonight. I’ll see you at eleven and not a minute later.”
Nicole gave her friend a nod before following Nickerson and Browning out to their carriage. He assisted the other woman inside the vehicle before helping Nicole. She sat across from Mrs. Browning. Once Nickerson climbed inside and the carriage jerked into action, Nicole breathed a little slower, trying to regulate the quick beat of her heart.
“So tell me, Miss Bastian,” Glynn began, “how long have you lived in New York?”
They wouldn’t possibly understand that although she was born here, she was raised wherev
er her father’s assignment took him and his family. “It’s been about six months now.”
“Ashton mentioned he met you at the General’s ball a month ago. Might I ask what you were doing in Staten Island?”
Nicole explained about visiting her aunt and uncle, hoping she related the same story she’d told Ashton.
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Browning giggled. “Cinderella? That is just adorable. So tell me,” she leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think of him as your Prince Charming?”
The comment took Nicole completely unaware and she couldn’t stop the blush of embarrassment flooding her face. Mr. Nickerson and Mrs. Browning must have noticed because they laughed.
“Well, I can’t deny that during the ball—before I learned his identity—I thought of him as my charming prince.”
“So you don’t think of him that way any longer?” Mrs. Browning asked, still wearing a smirk.
Nicole couldn’t stop her smile from widening. “Perhaps from time to time, I do.”
For the next little while of their ride, neither Glynn nor Mrs. Browning asked Nicole anything personal, for which she was relieved. However, both of them looked at her in a curious way as if they suspected her of something. She hoped not, but then she reasoned that because she’d been on edge all evening, that was why she felt this way.
When the carriage came to a stop in front of a large residence, Nicole’s jaw dropped. Ashton’s house took her breath away. Such splendor and grandness etched in each brick, each column, and every window. The yard was superbly manicured as well.
As she walked with Glynn and Mrs. Browning up to the front door, Nicole couldn’t take her eyes off the house. Deep down in her gut, a knot formed and tightened with every step she took. Doubt sneaked over her and made her seriously wonder about Ashton’s wealth. He hadn’t been a partner in the railroad for very long. Could he have really made so much money to afford a grand place such as this?
A well-dressed butler opened the door for them and took their cloaks before pointing toward a large room off to Nicole’s left. As they entered, she was disappointed that she hadn’t seen Ashton yet. Instead, another man and woman were sitting together on the sofa. When the man noticed them, he quickly stood. By the white strands of hair threading through his blonde sideburns and beard, she guessed him to be middle aged like Glynn Nickerson.
