An Agent for Belle (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 11)

by Nerys Leigh

  She cut a chunk of ham, layering it with a slice of fried potato. “What about your family? What do they think of you being a detective?”

  “I don’t have any family. I mean, I have one, but we’re not really in touch. It’s complicated.”

  For a moment he thought she was going to ask questions about his mean father he wasn’t comfortable answering. And about his mother who refused to leave him even when he beat her black and blue, and had thrown Val out of the house when he’d tried to protect her.

  To his relief, she didn’t, and it made him like her even more.

  “So I suppose you probably weren’t too happy about marrying me either,” she said.

  He sat back, watching her. “Oh, I don’t know. So far I’m enjoying it.”

  She kept her eyes on her plate, but he could still see her smile. “Me too.”

  Her answer shouldn’t have made him as happy as it did, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Chapter Nine

  Val stepped back to survey his work, his aching arm hanging at his side. The backdrop of an exotic forest wasn’t exactly a masterpiece, but it would do. If he painted one more leaf, his arm would drop off.

  He jumped at a sudden, overly intimate touch on his waist.

  “Very nice,” Maria purred behind him. “It appears you have many talents.”

  He didn’t have to look round to know how close she stood. Her breath was skimming across the side of his neck.

  “Someone else did the basic sketch, I just filled it in.” He stepped forward before turning to face her, putting some distance between them.

  She wore a low cut, figure-hugging green silk dress that left very little to the imagination. Her blue eyes drifted up to his face and she gave him a languid smile.

  There was no denying she was stunningly beautiful, the kind of woman men went to stupid lengths for a glance from. And she was giving him much more than just a glance. Usually he would have had no qualms with reciprocating her obvious attraction to him, but he was a married man now. And fake as it was, his marriage mattered to him.

  She slid one hand up his collar in a weak pretence of straightening it. “You’re being too modest.”

  He shrugged. “Entirely possible.”

  Her laugh was a husky, throaty sound, no doubt perfected through years of practice. “Well, keep up the good work.”

  He glanced round to make sure no one was within earshot and lowered his voice. “James Horton is the one who hired me. You do realize I don’t actually work for you?”

  She gave him a smile that put him in mind of a predator stalking its prey. “Not yet.”

  With one last sweep of her eyes down his body, she walked away.

  Val sighed. Under other circumstances, he would definitely have taken advantage of the situation. But not with Belle there. And strangely, he wasn’t sorry about that at all.

  A piano began playing and he looked across to where a group of women had emerged onto the stage, Belle among them. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall beside him as, under Maria’s direction, they began the routine she’d been practicing the evening before. He didn’t need to see the whole thing to know she had nothing to worry about. Even with the occasional wrong step, she was still the most graceful one there. Only a fool would look anywhere else.

  Maria waved for the music to stop and gave some instructions Val couldn’t hear. His gaze drifted beyond the group and settled on Curtis where he stood in the shadows on the far side of the stage, his gaze fixed on Belle.

  Val pushed away from the wall, frowning. He’d had enough of the way he always watched her when she was nearby. Yes, Belle was beautiful and it was natural any man would look at her, but there was something about Curtis that made him uncomfortable.

  He put down the paintbrush and started around the back of the stage. He couldn’t tell Curtis that Belle was his wife, but somehow he was going to make him stop ogling her, even if he had to resort to threats. In fact, resorting to threats would be his preferred course of action.

  He was almost to the other side of the stage when Curtis came into view, walking away from him. Val followed him into the corridor leading to the rooms at the back of the building, too determined to set him straight now to simply let him leave. It was when Curtis reached the back door of the theatre that Val began to consider something suspicious was going on.

  Out of habit formed from years of following suspected criminals, he had stuck to the shadows while following Curtis. So when he reached the door and looked behind him, he didn’t see Val where he stood behind a pile of wooden packing crates.

  Apparently satisfied that he was alone, Curtis opened the door and leaned out to look around the alley outside. “John, you there?”

  “Yeah.” A man Val had never seen before walked up to the door.

  Curtis looked beyond him, evidently expecting someone else. “Where’s Villiers?”

  “He’s not coming today. I got a telegraph. Says he’s been held up and he’ll try to get here tomorrow.”

  “He’ll try?” Curtis huffed out an annoyed breath. “We don’t have much more time to get it open. I’ve done everything I can, but they’re still opening the show in three days. Short of burning down the place, I don’t think I can stop them.”

  John looked up at the building thoughtfully.

  “I’m not…” Curtis flinched and glanced behind him into the gloom where Val was hiding. Val flattened himself against the wall. “I’m not setting fire to it and neither are you,” he went on, more quietly. “Besides anything, we’d lose the money for good then.”

  John sighed. “Pity. This place would go up like a bonfire.”

  “Just get to the telegraph office and reply to Villiers that he needs to get here right now. And don’t mention the…”

  “I know, I’m not stupid.”

  Curtis looked at him like he wasn’t convinced of that. “I have to get back to work. Keep your head down and don’t get drunk. You know what happens when you get drunk.”

  John shot him a glare, turned and walked out of sight. Curtis closed the door and Val backed into the shadows as he passed his hiding place, heading back towards the stage.

  He leaned against the wall, considering his options. He was somewhat surprised that finding the culprit had been so easy. He didn’t usually get this lucky. What to do next though, that would take some thought.

  He found himself looking forward to talking to Belle about it later and hearing her ideas. Despite his reluctance at first to work with a woman on a case, he was turning out to rather like the experience.

  ~ ~ ~

  Belle took the dress Augustus gave her and held it up. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  He handed her a pair of flesh-colored silk tights.

  She looked between the two inadequate items of clothing. “This is it?”

  “That’s it. This is burlesque, girl, not a church choir.” He nodded towards a screen in the corner of the wardrobe room. “You can get changed behind there.”

  Sighing, she carried her costume behind the screen and struggled out of her skirt and blouse in the confined space. As she pulled on the tights and then the stage costume, she hoped it wouldn’t be as revealing as it seemed. Sadly, she was disappointed.

  Augustus looked her up and down when she stepped out, nodding slowly. “Good, it fits. I won’t have to let it out.”

  She flashed him a glare. “What do you mean, you won’t have to let it out? You were expecting to let it out?”

  Either he was oblivious to her indignation or he didn’t care. “You’re tall,” he said, as if that explained everything. He looked at her feet then opened a trunk full of shoes and handed her a pair. “These should fit. You’d better get to rehearsal or Maria will have my hide. You can come and collect your clothes afterwards.”

  She looked at the door that led out into the corridor. “You mean I should go out there like this?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Where did Maria
find you? Yes, you go out there like that. What do you think you’ll be wearing in front of the audience?” He turned away, dismissing her with a flick of his hand.

  Sticking her tongue out at his back, she pulled on the shoes he’d given her, which fit perfectly, and went to the door. She pulled it open a crack to check the corridor was empty before stepping outside, wondering if there was any possible way she could avoid being seen for the rest of the day.

  ~ ~ ~

  Val rounded a corner and almost dropped the papier-mâché urn he was carrying.

  Belle stood outside the wardrobe room, facing away from him. She wore a dusky pink, lacy… something. He hesitated to call it a dress since the lower half of it seemed to be missing. For a few moments all he could see were legs. Long, slender, perfectly shaped legs. Encased in tights.

  He’d seen women’s legs before, but Belle’s legs were on a whole new level of spectacular. The temperature in the corridor seemed to have risen several degrees. He snapped his mouth shut just in time as she turned towards him.

  Her eyes widened and she made a futile attempt to cover herself with her hands. Not wanting to make her even more uncomfortable, he forced his face into its default expression of amusement and strolled up to her.

  Placing the urn down on the floor, he made a show of looking her up and down. “Nice outfit.”

  She gave up trying to cover herself with her arms and instead hugged them around her waist. “Don’t say anything. It’s indecent.”

  He wandered his gaze lazily down and back up again. “Looks fine to me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d say that, morally challenged as you are.”

  He grinned. “You surprise me, Belle. I never took you for a prude.”

  “I’m not a prude, I’m just uncomfortable at the idea of having my legs ogled by every man in Cheyenne.”

  His grin faded. He hadn’t thought of that. He was more than happy to see her in such a revealing outfit, but other men? That wasn’t a prospect he was remotely happy about.

  “It won’t go that far,” he stated firmly. “We’ll solve the case before the show opens.”

  Whatever he had to do, he’d make sure of that.

  “You said that before, but we’ve only got three days.”

  “That’s plenty of time.” He smiled again, to reassure her. “I once solved a bank robbery in three days.”

  “I don’t think…” She was interrupted by a low whistle.

  Beyond her, Curtis approached along the corridor, his eyes roving disgustingly down her body. “That costume sure looks good on you.”

  Val stepped around her to block his view. He didn’t want this criminal anywhere near Belle. “Something I can help you with?”

  He scowled at Val but did nothing. Val guessed he wasn’t the type to challenge a man several inches taller and a significant amount of muscle heavier.

  “No, nothing you can help me with,” he replied, giving Val a wide berth as he passed.

  He nodded to Belle, his gaze drifting down to her legs again, and continued along the corridor.

  She made a disgusted sound when he was gone. “Every time I see him, I feel like I need to bathe afterwards.”

  Val frowned, the idea that she was being made to feel uncomfortable angering him in a way he’d never felt before.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Is he harassing you? Because if he is…”

  “No, he hasn’t said anything, or done anything, really. It’s just the way he looks at me. But it’s not just me, he does it to all the women.”

  An overwhelming urge to drive his fist into Curtis’ face swept over him. If he hadn’t been sure that Curtis was involved in the sabotage, he would have gone to Horton and got him fired on the spot.

  He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear them. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but I’ve found out he’s behind the sabotage, and possibly a lot more.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really? Will he go to jail? Can we arrest him? Can I be there? Can I do it? Can Pinkerton agents arrest people?”

  He almost laughed aloud at her eagerness. “We can’t do anything until we have proof, but yes, I’m pretty sure he’ll go to jail. And no, we can’t arrest people unless we see the crime taking place, in which case we can make a citizen’s arrest. But we can certainly watch and gloat.”

  She clapped her hands together like an excited child. “I can gloat better than just about anyone I know.”

  This time, he did laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I have some gloating needs doing.”

  Her gaze softened as she smiled and he suddenly realized his hands hadn’t left her shoulders. Worse still, he was leaning towards her, wanting to kiss her so badly it was all he could think of.

  Clearing his throat, he released his hold and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back before they did something he’d regret. Like sliding into her luscious auburn hair, pulling her to him, and…

  “I’d better get to rehearsals. I’m supposed to be testing out how this thing moves.”

  She waved a hand at her wisp of a costume and his eyes followed the movement to her legs, which didn’t help him at all.

  He wrenched his eyes back to her face. “I’ll see you later on.”

  When she was gone, he sagged against the wall, running one hand down his face. What on earth was he doing? He wasn’t going to fall for her. He didn’t want to fall for her. He was happy as he was, single, unattached, and free.

  Nodding firmly, he bent to pick up the papier-mâché urn. He had this under control. Belle was a temptation, there was no doubt about that, but he could resist temptation.

  Although he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get the vision of her in that costume out of his head anytime soon.

  Chapter Ten

  As soon as they were out of sight of Horton’s that afternoon, Belle slipped her hand through the arm Val offered her, as she always did now when they walked through the streets of Cheyenne.

  She glanced at him walking beside her, thinking of the moment in the corridor outside the wardrobe room when she’d been almost certain he was going to kiss her. He hadn’t, so she’d clearly been mistaken, but for that blissful few seconds, with his large, warm hands on her shoulders and his eyes gazing into hers, she’d thought it was going to happen. And she’d wanted it to. Oh, how she’d wanted it to.

  She was annoyed with herself for that, and for the fact that she still wanted him to kiss her, even now. In fact, if he’d stopped right there in the street in front of everyone and drawn her into his arms, she wouldn’t have objected one bit.

  “So how do you know Mr. Curtis is behind the sabotage?” she asked, as much to distract herself from any kissing-related thoughts as because she wanted to know.

  “Earlier, I followed him to the stage door and he met a man called John there. He kept looking round to make sure he was alone, so I knew he was up to something.”

  He related the conversation he’d heard between Mr. Curtis and the John person. It intrigued her so much that the kissing fantasy moved to the back of her mind, nudged away by the thrill of the mystery.

  “So we now know Mr. Curtis has been sabotaging the show, although not why. And that he and this John need a man named Villiers to open something that may have something to do with money.” She glanced at Val for confirmation that she’d got everything right and he nodded. “So what would they need to open that might contain money? What do you put money in? A lockbox? No, that can’t be it. They wouldn’t need anyone else to open a lockbox. With enough force and the right tools, anyone can. So what else do you lock money in? A safe. You’d need someone with the right skills to open a safe.” A memory sparked in the back of her mind. “Wait a minute, the paper said there was a safe stolen in that robbery at the train depot. It contained the payroll for the railroad company.” They’d reached the hotel door and she spun to face Val in triumph. “It was them who did the robbery!”
r />   He was smiling. “Very good.”

  Her grin faded. “You already worked that out, didn’t you?” And she’d wanted so much to impress him.

  “I did, but I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. You figured it out much faster than I did.”

  “I did?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Her smile crept back. “So does that mean I’m smarter than you?”

  He reached around her to open the door. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  As he leaned close to hold the door open for her, her kissing-related thoughts reasserted themselves. Even after working all day, he smelled good. Or maybe it was because he’d been working. It was a musky, earthy, fundamentally masculine aroma that made her want to get closer so she could fill her lungs with the scent.

  She turned away and hurried into the hotel lobby before she did something embarrassing. Like sniff him.

  “So what are we going to do now?” she asked, once they were up the stairs and out of earshot of the clerk at the reception desk. “Are we going to tell Sheriff Carr?”

  “Not yet. There’s too much we don’t know, and we have no proof. Where is this safe? Why’s Curtis so desperate to stop the show from opening? Are there any more accomplices?”

  They reached their rooms and she took her key from her bag. “So how are we going to find all that out?”

  “Well, from now on I’m not going to let Curtis out of my sight while we’re at the theatre. It obviously has something to do with the show. He’ll lead us to the money.”

  She opened her door and he followed her inside. Funny how, just a few days ago, she’d have been scandalized at having a man in her room with her, and now it seemed perfectly normal.

  “I can watch him too,” she said, throwing her bag onto the bed. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  Val frowned. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near him. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  There was a possessive tone in his voice that made her heart flutter. She knew it was likely only because, as her training agent, he was responsible for her safety. But there was fluttering nonetheless.