An Agent for Belle (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 11)

by Nerys Leigh

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He didn’t blame her. “I…”

  To his relief, a man walked into the room at that moment, heading straight for the table of stereoscopes. Before he had a chance to use any of them, Belle strode up to him.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  He jerked back at her exclamation, staring at her in surprise.

  “What would your mother think if she knew you came in here to look at those disgusting pictures?”

  The man glanced at Val, possibly for some assistance from a fellow male. “Um…”

  Val covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

  Belle planted her hands on her hips. “What if it was your sister in that thing? Would you want other men ogling her without her clothes on like that?”

  A look of confusion crossed the man’s face. “I don’t think any men would want to ogle my sister without her clothes on.”

  She gasped. “What an awful thing to say!”

  “You ain’t seen my sister.”

  Val clamped his hand tighter over his mouth in an attempt to smother the laughter threatening to break out.

  She fixed the man with an icy stare. “You, sir, are reprehensible.”

  He frowned. “Is that bad?”

  Val snorted. He couldn’t help it. She turned her frigid look on him and he raised his hands in surrender.

  With her attention momentarily elsewhere, the man began to edge towards the exit. He froze when Belle spun back to him.

  “I suggest you go and find the nearest church and use your free time to engage in more virtuous pursuits.”

  His eyes darted to the door. “Does that mean I can leave?”

  “Yes, you can leave.”

  He rushed out of the room, stumbling over the threshold in his haste to escape. The moment he was gone, Belle turned her gaze on Val where he was leaning against the wall, arms folded.

  It was all he could do to stop himself from bursting into laughter. “Feel better now?”

  “A little, yes.”

  They spent another twenty minutes in the museum inspecting the exhibits, but not the stereographs, before they headed into the theatre to find Maria. The door to her dressing room stood open and a crowd of people outside waited their turn to enter and receive instructions or ask questions.

  When Val and Belle finally reached the door, they found her reclining on her couch, a tall glass of champagne in one hand.

  She smiled when they walked in. “There are my brave Pinkerton agents, who I trust are going to find and stop whoever’s trying to ruin my show.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Val said, taking the hand she offered him and pressing a brief kiss to the back.

  He didn’t dare look at Belle.

  One corner of Maria’s mouth curled up in a seductive smile. “I’ve told Joan, my stage manager, that you’ll be joining us as a stagehand. That way you’ll be able to go anywhere in the building and no one will suspect you.”

  “That’s good thinking.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She didn’t lack confidence, that was for sure.

  She turned her attention to Belle. “And Miss Wood, you’ll be joining the chorus.”

  She swallowed, glancing at Val. “Isn’t there anything else I can do?”

  Maria appeared amused. “Other than Joan, all the women here are actresses. It would look strange if you weren’t.”

  “But…” She looked at Val again, her eyes pleading with him for help. “I’m not… I can’t…”

  Gripped by an intense desire to reassure her, he said, “We’ve got over a week until the show opens. We’ll have the case all wrapped up by then. You won’t have to go in front of an audience.”

  She nodded, the tension in her posture easing a little. He immediately regretted promising her something he might not be able to deliver, but the fear in her eyes when she’d looked at him had evidently scrambled his brain.

  This was why working with a woman was a bad idea, no matter how likeable she was. Especially if she was as likeable as Belle. It muddled his thinking.

  “Good, that’s settled then,” Maria said. “If you have any questions or need any help, come see me. My door is always open.”

  The last was directed squarely at Val and accompanied by a seductive glance that left him in no doubt as to what her door was open for, where he was concerned. Subtlety was apparently not her strong point.

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Belle flashed him a disgusted look that he ignored. He needed to stay on Maria’s good side. Working with a hostile client would make the job so much harder.

  It wasn’t his fault that the client was beautiful and so obviously attracted to him.

  ~ ~ ~

  ...two three four, turn two three four, kick…

  Belle counted silently in her head as she went through the series of moves once again, feeling slightly ridiculous. At least she’d been able to find an out of the way corner where she was less likely to be seen. If she was going to catch up with the other girls in the chorus, she needed to practice as much as possible. Just so long as the investigation was over by the time the show opened, she could cope.

  At least being one of the performers meant she got to talk to a lot of people. She’d already subtly questioned several about everything that had been going on. The general feeling seemed to be that it was strange, but they weren’t sure if it was deliberate. The falling backdrop had the performers a little worried though, seeing as most of them had been on the stage at the time.

  She had been writing down everything she was told, as well as her own impressions of those she spoke to. Even now she had paper and pencil in her pocket, ready for more notes. She may have been stuck learning dances and songs, but she’d show Val she could investigate at the same time.

  A leisurely round of applause startled her in the middle of the sequence and she stumbled to a halt, whirling round.

  “Very nice,” Jacob Curtis said, grinning. “You’re real talented.”

  She hid a grimace. “Mr. Curtis, I didn’t see you there.”

  His eyes meandered down to her feet. “You’ll look real pretty up on that stage.”

  “That’s kind of you to say. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he went on, either oblivious to or ignoring her hint for him to leave.

  She stifled a sigh. “Oh?”

  “I thought, you being new here and all, that you’d like to have dinner with me. I can show you around and we can have some fun.” He gave her what he probably thought was a charming smile but came off as more of a smirk.

  Several of the other women had mentioned Mr. Curtis’ constant attempts to get one of them to ‘have some fun’ with him. Strangely, it made Belle feel more like she fit in.

  She almost grabbed at the chance to use being married as an excuse, before remembering Val’s insistence that they keep it a secret. She’d die, however, before she flirted with the man in front of her.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m very busy.”

  He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. The move reminded her of Val, only Val did it so much better.

  “I’ll be coming into quite a lot of money soon,” he said, “and I’d be real happy to share that good fortune with the right woman.”

  Now he was just annoying her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Curtis, but…” She stopped as what he’d said finally sank in. “How much money?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Enough.”

  If she was going to get anything out of him, it looked like she was going to have to employ some flirting after all.

  Sighing internally, she smiled and lowered her chin, peering coyly at him through her lashes. “That sounds exciting. Where’s the money coming from?”

  He pushed away from the wall and sidled towards her. “You don’t have to trouble your pretty little head about that.”

  Year
s of dealing with condescending oafs who assumed that if you were halfway pretty you couldn’t have a brain kicked in and she spoke without thinking. “Do you honestly think that insulting my intelligence is the way to get on my good side?”

  The smirk melted from his face, replaced by confusion. “I’m… what?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Never mind. Please excuse me, I need to get back to rehearsal.” Her willingness to flirt for information had well and truly gone.

  She pulled the pencil and paper from her pocket as she walked away, jotting down a note about the money Mr. Curtis was “coming into”. Maybe it would be relevant later.

  She’d leave out how she had ruined her chance to get any more information out of him. Val didn’t need to know that part.

  Chapter Eight

  Val knocked on the door separating his room from Belle’s, rolling his shoulders as he waited.

  He’d been painting scenery most of the day and his muscles were tight from the unaccustomed work. He was going to be aching tomorrow. If he’d known some way to make it appear as if he worked there without putting in any of the effort, he’d have done that. He hadn’t become a Pinkerton agent to suffer through the same boring, repetitive toil everyone else did.

  At least he’d got some reprieve while he sneaked off to search the building, although that had been largely fruitless. He had found the stub of a cheroot up on the gantry walkway above the stage, where the moving scenery was attached. The frayed ends of the ropes that had held the backdrop that fell were still in place and there was little doubt they’d been cut, but the cheroot was a common brand and there was no other clue as to who had been up there. Still, he now knew someone had done it on purpose. He just had no idea who.

  When there was no response to his knock on Belle’s door, he knocked again. After a few seconds, it opened.

  “What?” She stood at the door breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed and sheened with sweat.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She turned away from him and walked back into her room.

  He looked around in puzzlement as he followed. The bed had been moved to one side, against the wall, creating a clear space in the center of the room. She walked into this space and began a series of dance moves.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dancing.”

  He watched her for a few seconds. “Why?”

  “I have to rehearse.” She stumbled a little, puffed out an irritated breath, and began the sequence again. “I’m behind everyone else so I have to learn this.”

  There was something enthralling about the way she moved and he watched her for a little while before speaking again. “Um, you do know you won’t actually be part of the show? It doesn’t matter if you can do all the steps.”

  She didn’t stop. “All the other girls in the chorus can. I’ll look like a fool if I can’t. Oh, I made notes on everyone I mentioned the sabotage to today, how they reacted and my impressions on their guilt or lack thereof. They’re on the bed.”

  He walked over to pick up several sheets of paper and sat down to look at them, surreptitiously watching her at the same time. She was beautifully graceful. He wondered if she’d ever had lessons.

  “Is there something else you wanted?” she said, executing a slightly shaky pirouette. “Because if not, you’re distracting me.”

  “I came to invite you for supper.” Although he’d happily keep watching her rehearse. She was captivating.

  “I also have four songs to memorize.”

  His conscience finally winning out over his desire to keep watching her dance, he stood and caught hold of her hand as it swept by his face. Forced to stop, she threw him an irritated look.

  “You don’t have to be perfect, just good enough to fake it.” He nodded towards the door. “Come on, we both need to eat. We can discuss your notes. This is good work, by the way.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “Fine, although if I make a fool of myself tomorrow in rehearsals, I’m blaming you.”

  “You’re not going to make a fool of yourself. You look beautiful.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widening, and he suddenly realized he was still holding her hand.

  Releasing her, he took a step back. “I-I mean, your dancing is very beautiful. Graceful. Have you had lessons?”

  “When I was younger. My mother exchanged some sewing work for my sisters and me to get lessons. Mother thought it would make us more poised and elegant. I don’t know if it worked, but the steps seem to have stuck with me so it wasn’t a total loss.”

  He kept to himself his opinion that the lessons had definitely worked and she danced like an angel. If angels danced, that was. “Did you ever imagine you’d be using the skills to go undercover as a detective?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. If my mother had thought that was a possibility, she never would have sent me. If we’re going to supper, I need to wash up and change my clothing.”

  For curiosity’s sake, he didn’t move, just to see how polite she’d be in getting him out.

  “That means you should leave,” she said, tilting her head pointedly at the open door to his room.

  For some reason, her bluntness made him happy. He grinned. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

  She waved him out of the room. “I certainly can.”

  ~ ~ ~

  They went to their usual restaurant for supper, sitting at what Val was coming to think of as their table, in the corner by the window. Belle wore a fawn-colored skirt with a pale blue blouse that complemented her auburn hair perfectly.

  The thought came to Val as he watched her peruse the menu that he was going to miss her when the case was over. It made no sense to feel that way about a woman he’d known for a grand total of four days, and yet he did. He hoped she’d stay in the Denver area when she started working on her own cases, at least then he’d get to see her. But maybe she’d go home to New York City and she’d disappear from his life forever.

  That should have suited him just fine. He’d never wanted to be married in the first place. So why did the idea bother him so much?

  “Can I ask you something?” he said as they waited for their meals.

  She moved her gaze from the people passing by on the street outside. “I don’t know. Should I be nervous over the fact that you’re asking?”

  He snorted a laugh. She was funny. He liked women who were funny. And smart. And had red hair. “Possibly. I’m just curious as to why you want to be a Pinkerton agent. I would think there are any number of things you could do in New York, or any number of suitors for your hand.”

  The corners of her lips turned up a little, a hint of sadness crossing her face. “My parents aren’t well off. My father works on the docks and mother takes in sewing as often as she can. We’re not dirt poor, not like some people. We never went hungry or didn’t have a roof over our heads. But my parents always wanted better for me and my sisters, so they raised us as if we were the daughters of royalty, so we could find husbands who would elevate our social station. And that is their sole ambition for us.”

  “And that’s not what you want?”

  Her nose scrunched for a moment. “I can’t think of a life much more boring than being a society wife, only there to make my husband look good and further his ambitions. I’ve always wanted to do more, travel, have adventures. But my parents have always been so determined that’s what would happen that they wouldn’t listen to any other ideas. They’re not bad parents, they just think they’re doing the best for us by securing our futures.”

  “What about your sisters? Do they feel the same as you?”

  She smiled at the mention of her sisters. “Louisa, the eldest, didn’t, up until a year ago. In New York we’re pretty low down on the social scale, but Mother thought if we could get husbands where they don’t know us, we could do better. So Louisa became a mail order bride last year, although it turned out the man she went to marry wasn’t what my parents were expecting. My mother
was horrified and told her she had to come back home.”

  “So what happened?”

  Her smile grew. “Louisa fell in love and married Jesse anyway. To be honest, I didn’t think she had it in her to go against our parents’ wishes, but I’m so glad she did. Now she’s blissfully happy and I’m going to be an aunt in a couple of months.” Her smile became tinged with sadness. “I miss her terribly, but we write to each other all the time and I’ve never known her to be happier. It was knowing she’d followed her heart that made me think I could follow mine as well.”

  Val had the sudden urge to find this Jesse and shake his hand for his part in bringing Belle to Denver. “And here you are.”

  “Here I am.”

  The waiter arrived with their meals and Val waited for him to set them on the table before going on.

  “How about your other sisters? How many of you are there?”

  “Just three. I’m the youngest, by ten minutes. Jemima and I are twins. She’s still at home. She thinks I’m crazy to come all the way here to become a Pinkerton agent.”

  There had been two unattached women in New York who looked like Belle? He lived in the wrong part of the country.

  “So you came here to avoid getting married and follow your dreams of adventure?”

  “That just about sums it up.”

  “And then you ended up married anyway.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t fail to see the irony. I admit, it took great strength of will to not slap Mr. Gordon when he told us.”

  Val burst into laughter. “I would have liked to see that. I’ll bet you can slap pretty hard.”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m not admitting I’ve slapped anyone before, but yes, I can. What about you? Why did you become an agent?”

  He pushed a dumpling around his plate with his fork. “I kind of just drifted into it. I was in Denver, saw the offices, decided to give it a try. I’d been moving around a lot, done a lot of different jobs, and this was the one I liked the most. Of course, it wasn’t that simple, the selection process was pretty involved. But I guess they saw something in me.”