An Agent for Belle (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 11)

by Nerys Leigh

  “Thanks,” Val said, sounding not at all thankful as he steered her away from Mr. Curtis and towards the stage.

  She stifled a smile. “That wasn’t very polite.”

  “Good.”

  It seemed everything was happening at once on the stage. Scenery was being painted, props carried back and forth, a group of women were going through an elaborate sequence of dance moves, and a man was examining several costumes held up by a frazzled looking woman. Somewhere, a piano was playing.

  A tall, blonde woman in a red dress that brazenly accentuated every curve stood in the center, directing the chaos around her.

  “No, no, no, that backdrop is all wrong. The pyramids aren’t big enough and the Sphinx looks like a constipated house cat. More contrast too. They need to see it from the back. Augie, that dress needs more gold trim. Cleopatra didn’t care how gaudy she looked. Girls, get those knees up. The men will want to see drawers.”

  Dazzled by the sights and sounds around her, Belle walked up the steps leading to the stage, Val following. Was the theatre always like this? How did anything ever get done?

  “Miss Wheeler?” Val addressed the woman in the red dress. “Is this a convenient time to talk to you?”

  “Does it look like a convenient time to talk to…” She glanced at him and stopped, her eyes drifting down and back up. A smile curved her lips. “Please tell me you’ve come to audition. I have all the actors I need, but for you I’d create a whole new part.”

  He puffed up ridiculously under her appreciative gaze. “I’m Valentine Stevens. Mr. Horton told you I’d be coming?”

  Miss Wheeler’s smile grew. “Ah yes, of course. Mr. Stevens.”

  She extended her hand, palm down, and he brushed his lips across the back. Belle had the strangest urge to grab his arm and jerk it from her red-nailed grasp.

  “Do you have time to discuss the situation?” he said, holding onto her hand for an unnecessarily extended length of time before releasing it.

  “For you, certainly.”

  As she turned away to issue several more commands to the people around her, Belle slapped the back of her hand against Val’s arm. He glanced at her and she raised her eyebrows pointedly.

  He shrugged, an entirely unconvincing attempt to look innocent on his face, and mouthed, “What?”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away. Men.

  Miss Wheeler led them backstage, past more busy people, and on to a door with a plaque inscribed with ‘Maria Wheeler, director, producer, star’.

  She opened the door and looked back at them, apparently only then noticing Belle. “Oh.” Her eyes flicked between them. “You two are together?”

  “This is Miss Wood,” Val said. “She’s in training to become a Pinkerton agent.”

  Miss Wood. He’d introduced her as his wife, albeit reluctantly, to Mr. Horton. It shouldn’t have annoyed Belle that he appeared to want to distance himself from her with Miss Wheeler, and yet it did.

  Later, she would discuss it with him. With very strong words.

  “A female Pinkerton agent?” Miss Wheeler smiled. “Excellent idea. There are so many things a woman can do better than a man.”

  Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Belle replied. She suspected Val’s eyes were dying to roll, so she intentionally didn’t look at him.

  Miss Wheeler’s dressing room was precisely what Belle would have expected of the flamboyantly attired woman, all red and sparkle. An ostentatious arrangement of pink and white lilies filled a crystal vase in one corner. There were three mirrors, two of them full length and arranged in such a way that one’s back and front could be seen at the same time. A couch shrouded in red silk lounged against one wall.

  Mr. Horton really had gone all out to get her into his theatres.

  She draped herself over the couch and waved at two elaborately carved chairs opposite. “So what would you like to know?”

  Belle watched in disgust as Val’s gaze moved from where Miss Wheeler’s red dress had hitched up to reveal shapely ankles.

  “Well, Miss Wheeler…”

  “Oh, please, call me Maria. I always assume everyone is a friend, until they aren’t.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Maria. And you must call me Valentine.”

  Their eyes met and he smiled.

  Belle wanted to vomit.

  “So, Maria,” he continued, “James has told us about your suspicions that your play is being sabotaged and…”

  “They’re not just suspicions,” she interrupted, eyes flashing, “I know someone’s trying to stop Infamy & Cleopatra from opening.”

  “Do you have any idea who would want to do that?”

  She shrugged. “Any number of people. Burlesque is hugely popular with a large portion of the population, and hugely unpopular with an equally large portion. A lot of people don’t like progress, specifically, the idea of women being in charge and creating their own success. Then there are those who think we’re all immoral harlots.”

  “Burlesque is somewhat… risqué,” Belle pointed out.

  To her surprise, Maria laughed. “Of course it is, that’s why it’s so popular. Thousands of men would hardly flock to see a choir of chanting nuns.” Her expression sobered. “But what we do is empowering women. I know we dress in revealing outfits and entertain with bawdy humor, but we do it on our own terms. I’m guessing you know what it’s like to want to make your own way without the aid of a man, seeing as you’re going into a most unconventional occupation for a woman yourself.”

  Belle didn’t reply. She didn’t like having her motives analyzed.

  Maria’s gaze moved back to Val. “Although I’ve never been so fortunate as to have the aid of such a fine-looking man in my career. I’d happily make an exception if that were the case.”

  Belle’s jaw fell open. She’d never seen a woman be so forward in her entire life.

  He leaned towards her and smiled. “You flatter me, Maria.”

  “I certainly hope so.” She shifted her feet and more of her dress fell away from her bare calves.

  Belle cleared her throat. “Can you think of anyone specific who would want the show stopped? Have you had any actual threats?”

  She smoothed her hand across the material draped over her hip. “No, no threats. And no one I can think of here who would go to such lengths to stop the show. From what Mr. Horton tells me, and from the reaction to us in the town, we’re rather popular.”

  Belle’s eyes flicked to her bare ankles. She had no doubt they were, if such behavior was typical of the cast. Or maybe Maria’s performance was just for Val.

  Either way, what did Belle care? She and Val weren’t truly a married couple so it made no difference to her what he did or who flirted with him.

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, smiling.

  Belle wanted to smack the smirk from his face.

  “Well, if there’s nothing more you can think of that we need to know, we should get started on the investigation.” She stood, eager to leave the too small room.

  Maria sat up and her dress finally lowered to a more respectable level. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  Val rose to his feet beside Belle. “We will. Thank you for your time.”

  Maria gave him a languid smile, her gaze once more roaming downwards. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Belle turned for the door and released the mammoth eye roll she’d been holding in throughout the entire meeting.

  ~ ~ ~

  Belle drew in a deep breath the moment she stepped outside the building. The street might have been dusty and dirty, but it felt far preferable to inside.

  She set off in the direction of the hotel without waiting for Val to join her. He could do what he liked.

  “Belle, wait for me!”

  She ignored his call and continued striding along the street.

  He jogged up beside her. “Slow down, will you? What’s the rush?”

&nb
sp; “No rush,” she replied, without slowing.

  “Are you angry at me?”

  She came to a halt so suddenly that he walked a good six feet ahead before stopping. She waited for him to walk back.

  “Of course not. Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like you practically threw yourself at our client. Oh, no wait, it is!” She began walking again, forcing him once more to jog to catch up.

  “Is that what you’re angry about? I was just being personable.”

  “Is that what you call flirting shamelessly?”

  “I was not flirting!”

  “Oh, please.” She lowered her voice in an exaggerated impression of a man’s. “‘This is Miss Wood, she’s training to be an agent and we’re definitely not married.’”

  This time it was he who came to a halt. She didn’t want to wait for him, but she couldn’t argue if he wasn’t within earshot so she stopped and turned to look at him.

  “I told you, sometimes an agent has to use a bit of charm to get the full story from people. That applies to clients as well. It’s hard to charm a woman when your wife is sitting right there.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

  A smile sauntered onto his face. “What’s the matter? Jealous?”

  Her stomach dropped. “Certainly not. I’m just appalled at your lack of professionalism.”

  She spun away and began walking again, not at all because she wanted to hide her face, which might betray her. She wasn’t jealous. They weren’t even properly married.

  He caught up with her and they walked in silence for a while before he spoke again. “Maybe I was a bit overly familiar. It was just an automatic reaction to a beautiful woman.”

  “More like an automatic reaction to her bare ankles.”

  His chuckle stopped when she glared at him. “Come on, you must be used to how men behave when women are a certain way.”

  She gasped. What kind of woman did he think she was? “I do not go around flashing my ankles!”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant you must be used to how men behave around a beautiful woman. Sometimes we don’t think so well.”

  Her feet stopped of their own accord while her mind attempted to pull itself together. Did he think her beautiful?

  He turned to look back at her. “What?”

  She swallowed and began walking again. It was neither here nor there what he thought of her, beyond her ability to solve a case.

  After a few paces, he held out his elbow.

  After a few paces more, she slipped her hand through it. “I still think your behavior was reprehensible.”

  “I know.”

  ~ ~ ~

  That evening, they sat in the chairs by the window in Belle’s room, the meal Val had fetched from the restaurant arrayed on the small table between them.

  The corned beef and tomato toasted sandwiches were plain and greasy and her mother would have been horrified she was eating such vulgar food.

  They were delicious.

  “So how do you think we should start?” He took a large bite from his sandwich.

  She’d been giving that a lot of thought. She’d even written notes. “I think the fact that in most of the incidents of sabotage, if it is that, unrestricted access was required to everywhere in the theatre points to it being someone who works there, either in the theatre itself or amongst the company of actors and backstage people Miss Wheeler brought with her. Someone would surely have noticed if someone who didn’t belong there was loitering.”

  He nodded slowly. “So how do you suggest we go about finding this person?”

  “We need to be able to move around in the theatre without anyone suspecting we’re investigating.”

  “And that means?”

  “Going into the theatre under the guise of working there.”

  “That’s good deductive reasoning. And I agree, it’s the best course of action. When I went out to get the food, I went back there and spoke to James and Maria. I would have done it before we left this afternoon, but you seemed very eager to get out.”

  She narrowed her eyes at his amused smile. “I had my reasons.”

  “Reasons that had nothing to do with jealousy, I suppose.”

  “Don’t you get tired, carrying that amount of arrogance around?”

  He snorted a laugh. “I manage. Anyway, I’ll be working backstage for the next few days and you’ll be in the chorus. We start tomorrow morning.”

  Belle’s mouth went dry. “What do you mean, I’ll be in the chorus?”

  “Of the show.”

  She stared at him in horror. “But I can’t act or do anything like that. Will I have to sing? I can’t sing in front of people!”

  “It’s only for a few days. You won’t have to actually perform in front of an audience.”

  “But I’ll still have to be in the rehearsals or no one will be convinced I’m part of the show.” She put down her sandwich, her appetite gone. People would be watching her. It would be humiliating.

  He reached out and took her hand, gazing into her eyes. “You’re a smart woman, you’ll pick it up easily. Going undercover is a big part of being a Pinkerton agent. I know you can do it.”

  It took a good five seconds for her heart to start beating again. His hands were soft but strong. And manly. So very manly.

  “Uh, thank you.” She pulled her hand from his before she embarrassed herself, grabbing her sandwich to hide her fluster.

  Manly hands. What was wrong with her?

  He sat back, a smile playing on his lips. “I think it would be better if no one knew we were husband and wife at the theatre.”

  “What, so you can flirt with the other women too?”

  “I repeat, I wasn’t flirting with Maria. But if either of us needs to use a little charm to get the information we need, it will be easier if we’re seen to be unattached.”

  His reasoning made sense, but if that was the case… “Why did we get married in the first place if we’re now going to pretend not to be?”

  His smile sidled back into place. “So we can be in a hotel room together without scandal.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t ask me, it wasn’t my idea. I thought forcing us to marry was insane. If I could have, I would have done anything to get out of it.”

  His statement wasn’t at all disappointing. It wasn’t.

  “But that was before I met the woman I’d be marrying,” he went on, his gaze holding hers.

  Her stomach wobbled before she realized he was simply using the charm on her that he used on every other woman he met. “You’re terrible.”

  He grinned and took another bite of his sandwich.

  Chapter Seven

  To his surprise, Val was growing to like being married. Admittedly, he wasn’t getting all of the perks of a real marriage, but he was spending a lot of time with his wife, and Belle was very enjoyable to spend time with.

  Over breakfast at the restaurant he gave her some last minute advice on going undercover and assured her she’d do brilliantly. He could tell she was nervous, but her determination to go through with it and do a good job filled him with pride.

  Because she was his student. Not for any other reason.

  Evidently Maria’s waking hours were somewhat later than everyone else’s and when they reached the theatre she hadn’t yet arrived. So with a half hour to kill, Val and Belle decided to pay a visit to the museum part of Horton’s Saloon, Museum & Theatre.

  Despite having visited Cheyenne, and Horton, on several occasions, Val had never been in the museum before. A large wood-paneled room filled with glass cases of varying sizes, each accommodating a menagerie of stuffed animals and other curiosities, wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Being stared at by so many glass eyes made his skin crawl.

  He glanced at Belle beside him, fully expecting her to want to leave rather than spend time around the creepy exhibits, but instead she said “Huh”, in a half-interested, half-surprised manner, and wande
red to the nearest case to take a closer look.

  He followed, his eyes on her rather than the exhibits. She was wearing a green dress that looked stunning on her.

  The first case contained several brightly colored birds with long tails he would have thought completely impractical for everyday avian life. Still, they looked impressive.

  “Isn’t it amazing the lengths to which some males will go to attract a female?” Belle remarked.

  “How do you know they’re males?”

  “It says so right here, mister detective.”

  She pointed to a perfectly obvious plaque at the top of the case. A plaque he would have seen if his attention hadn’t been fixed exclusively on her.

  “I guess some males need a little extra help,” he said. “While the rest are naturally charming and don’t have to try so hard. Females just flock to us.”

  Sighing, she shook her head and moved on to the next case. He didn’t miss her smile though.

  They made their way slowly around the exhibits, viewing the interesting, the extraordinary, and the downright bizarre. He’d never suspected James Horton of being such a collector. It was an unexpected addition to the man’s eclectic personality.

  “Oh, I’ve heard of these,” she said, “but I’ve never seen one before. I wonder what’s on them.”

  He turned away from some kind of strange furry animal with webbed feet and what looked like a duck’s beak to see her peer into one of the stereoscopes chained to a table against the back wall.

  He took a step towards her, reaching out his hand. “Um, I don’t think you should…”

  She gasped and rapidly put the stereoscope back down, her wide eyes darting to him. “That’s… that’s…” She swallowed and tried again. “Those women don’t have any clothes on!”

  Her horrified expression made him want to laugh and hug her at the same time. “I should have warned you.”

  “It has so much… depth.”

  “I know.” He realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.

  “You know?!”

  “I mean, I’ve seen stereographs, but not those stereographs. Wholesome ones, of… of… scenery and such. Buildings. Architecture. From other countries. Cultural.” Usually, he was a much smoother liar than that.