by Jen Turano
“I bet Virgil didn’t like that either.”
“I don’t imagine he did, but I’ve never seen Virgil again—or rather, I’ve never spoken with him again. I caught a glimpse of him a few years ago, but we didn’t acknowledge each other.”
“Why not?”
Nicholas shifted on the seat. “I was escorting a young lady and her chaperone down Broadway to do some shopping and didn’t want to make Virgil uncomfortable by drawing attention to him. He was looking rather rough around the edges.”
Gabriella’s lips thinned. “Are you certain it was Virgil you didn’t want to make uncomfortable and not yourself?”
Before Nicholas could voice a protest to that—not that Gabriella was entirely off the mark, which didn’t speak well of him in the least—Daphne’s eyes began to flutter and then opened a second later. She blinked a few times, then set her sights on Gabriella.
“I’ve just had the most disturbing dream,” Daphne began. “There was a man with a pistol, and then I was flying through the air. After that, the man was looming over me.” She wrinkled her nose. “There might have been blood, but . . .”
Daphne stopped talking when her gaze darted his way. She lifted a trembling hand and pointed a finger at him. “That’s him, right there. But that means it wasn’t a dream after all and also suggests that he’s abducted us for some nefarious purpose, but . . . my nerves won’t survive an abduction.”
Pushing away from where she’d been slumped against the carriage wall, Daphne snatched the large bag Gabriella had been rummaging through. Instead of searching the contents of that bag for her smelling salts, as he expected, she wrapped her hand around the strap, jumped up from the carriage seat, and began beating Nicholas around the head with it.
CHAPTER
Five
The unexpected sight of Daphne walloping Nicholas rendered Gabriella speechless as well as immobile, until she realized that Nicholas was not trying to stop Daphne from hitting him, but was merely attempting to deflect blows that were raining on him at a furious rate.
In the past, when they’d lived on the Lower East Side, he’d always believed that boys were never to use physical force against any girl, no matter the circumstances. That belief had been rather novel for a street urchin to uphold and unexpectedly chivalrous to boot. However, because Nicholas apparently still held fast to the chivalry business, she was going to have to intervene before Daphne did some real damage to him.
Before she could implement her intervention, though, Winston suddenly hurtled through the air, landing in the middle of her lap. Panic raced through her when the dog nuzzled his snout against the delicate skin of her throat.
Peering through brown fur that was obscuring her view, she saw that Daphne was now thumping Nicholas over the head with the book she’d set aside earlier. Any hope of assistance died a rapid death.
Hot doggie breath wafting against her neck brought her back to the dire situation at hand. Not wanting that breath to be followed by Winston’s teeth sinking into her flesh, Gabriella searched her mind for something of worth to help her deal with a dog that frightened her half to death.
Unfortunately, not much of worth came to her, except . . .
“Argh . . . ah . . . matey,” she began in what she hoped would pass for a fair pirate voice. “Be you a nice pirate dog or are you more of a, um, scurvy dog?”
Winston released a whimper, an encouraging sound if there ever was one, and had Gabriella struggling to recall more pirate talk.
“Well shiver me tenders, or no, it’s, ah . . .”
“Timbers,” Daphne said, abandoning her attack on Nicholas as she turned her head, her Cleopatra headdress askew. “And not that I want to point out the obvious, Gabriella, but now seems a most curious time for you to assume the identity of a pirate. We’ve been abducted by a most fearsome scoundrel.”
Gabriella’s brows drew together. “I’m not assuming a pirate identity. I’m attempting to placate this beast sitting on top of me so he doesn’t attack. Nicholas mentioned Winston’s fond of pirate talk.”
Daphne shot a glance to Nicholas, who was looking fearsome indeed, considering his nose was bleeding again. “You’ve been exchanging pleasantries with our abductor?”
Gabriella shoved aside some of Winston’s fur. “We’re hardly in a situation where pleasantries have been exchanged, and he hasn’t abducted us. Nicholas helped us escape from the Birkhoff house after you fainted.”
Daphne released a snort. “Who wouldn’t faint when they find themselves on the wrong end of a pistol, which I distinctly remember this man turning on me.” She frowned. “Did you say his name is Nicholas?”
“He’s a former friend of mine from the Lower East Side.”
“Former friend of yours?” Nicholas questioned.
“Indeed,” Gabriella returned as Daphne looked from her, to Nicholas, back to her, then to Nicholas again.
“Could this possibly be the boy you mentioned earlier, the one you always partnered with?”
“The very same.”
Daphne lowered the book she’d been brandishing. “That’s a curious plot twist to be sure.” She shuddered as her gaze settled on Nicholas’s face. “In case you’re unaware, you’ve got blood all over you.” She began fanning herself with the book. “Blood makes me nauseous, although I suppose I should apologize for being responsible for all”—she gave a flick of her fingers toward his face—“that.”
“The walloping you just gave me isn’t the reason for the blood,” Nicholas said, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against his nose. “My face, unfortunately, took the brunt of a fall after the rope broke when I was trying to get you away from the Birkhoff house.”
“You used a rope to get me away?”
Nicholas shot a look to Gabriella, evidently unclear how much he should divulge to a woman who’d certainly proven herself prone to swooning.
“He had to carry you down the side of the house slung over his back,” Gabriella said. “Fortunately for you, when the rope broke, Nicholas was able to twist around before the two of you hit the ground, saving you from a crushing.”
Daphne immediately began to peer at Nicholas through her lenses. “Goodness, even if you are a scoundrel, since you were probably up to no good in the Birkhoff house, you’re evidently possessed of a chivalrous and noble nature.” She began fanning herself with her book again. “I’ve long desired to meet a chivalrous man in the flesh, and here you are, in the flesh. I’m suddenly all aflutter.”
Nicholas arched a brow Gabriella’s way. “Does that mean she’s going to faint again?”
“That’s a distinct possibility.” Gabriella gestured to the empty seat beside Nicholas. “Perhaps you should take a seat next to Nicholas, Daphne. You can use him as a cushion if you do faint, instead of landing on the hard floor.”
Daphne plopped down on the seat beside Gabriella, shoving Winston’s hind legs aside. “I prefer to sit beside you. Scoundrels make me nervous.”
“You just said he was a chivalrous sort.”
“True, but he’s clearly a conflicted chivalrous sort, mixing chivalry with skullduggery, if I’m not mistaken.” Daphne leaned forward and snagged her notepad and pencil.
“What’s she doing?” Nicholas asked warily.
“I imagine she’s about to start taking notes, probably because she’s been struck with a desire to pen a bit of a, ah, poem,” Gabriella said, resisting the urge to grin when Nicholas’s eyes widened at the mere mention of poetry.
Since Daphne had an agreement with her publisher to keep her true identity a secret, because her publisher believed no one would want to buy thrilling mysteries penned by a woman, she’d devised an unusual solution to explain why she was always taking notes. If asked, Daphne didn’t hesitate to tell people she was fond of composing poetry. Poetry, in Daphne’s opinion, was not often enjoyed by the masses. That meant additional questions about Daphne’s notetaking usually didn’t materialize, considering people didn’t seem to want to fi
nd themselves the recipient of an impromptu poetry recital, especially from an amateur poet, which was what Daphne claimed to be.
“Seems as if she’s found some manner of inspiration,” Nicholas said as Daphne began scribbling madly away.
“It probably has something to do with you being a conflicted chivalrous sort,” Gabriella returned right as Winston scrambled off her lap, settled himself beside Nicholas, and promptly began to quiver. “I would hazard a guess that she’s not been inspired by your dog, because even though a pirate dog could certainly be considered inspiration for a rousing bit of poetry, I don’t think Winston has the personality to suit that particular description.”
“Sure he does,” Nicholas argued. “He’s simply still growing into it. As I mentioned earlier, he’s needy, and given the way he’s trembling, he’s apparently frightened of Daphne.”
Daphne looked up from her notes. “Oh, I like that bit about growing into a personality.” She tapped her pencil against her notepad. “Perhaps I’m somewhat like Winston and doing the same, because I must admit I’m surprised by my earlier actions. Well, not the fainting, but the attacking you, Nicholas.” She smoothed a hand down the front of her Cleopatra outfit. “I wonder if my disguise is responsible for my new assertiveness. I’m usually a very timid sort, but something about donning a disguise seems to have loosened my inhibitions. I may need to consider doing this more often.”
“You fainted—and twice, at that—while in disguise,” Nicholas pointed out.
“It’s evidently not a foolproof method, but it certainly seems to have potential,” Daphne said as the carriage lurched to a stop, Gus wrenching the door open a moment later. His gaze went immediately to Nicholas.
“What a relief to find you alert, Nicholas. I was afraid you’d been rendered incapacitated after I heard all that ruckus.”
Nicholas frowned. “And you’re just now checking on me?”
Gus darted a glance to Gabriella. “I wouldn’t have wanted to deprive you of the chance to settle the ruckus on your own.” He winced. “Besides, I well remember Gabe’s questionable temper and habit of striking out when she’s riled. You did toss her into the carriage against her will, so I knew it was only a matter of time until she went after you. I’m not foolish enough to get in between Gabe and her adversary when she’s in a fighting frame of mind. I happen to have an attachment to all of my limbs.”
Gabriella crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t have separated you from any of your limbs, Gus, and besides, I wasn’t the one who attacked Nicholas. It was Daphne. She thought Nicholas had abducted us.”
Gus ran a hand over his face. “Another bizarre turn to what is becoming a very strange night.” He settled a quizzical eye on Daphne. “I wouldn’t have thought you have the pluck to take on a man like Nicholas, not with those questionable nerves you seem to possess.”
Daphne smiled. “It was a surprise to me as well, and even more surprising that I didn’t swoon in the midst of my scuffle with Nicholas.”
“I believe we can all agree that this is definitely a night for surprises,” Gabriella said before she leaned toward Gus. “Now that you’ve learned Nicholas has not been rendered incapacitated, we should get moving again. You’re supposed to be trailing after Elsy and Ann, and I fear they’re now well out of sight.”
“Apparently you haven’t noticed we’ve been traveling at a snail’s pace since we left the Birkhoff residence,” Gus pointed out. “Your carriage is only a half block away, and at the rate we’re traveling, we’ll not reach Bleecker Street until morning.”
“It takes a few blocks for Elsy to build up her confidence,” Gabriella said. “She’ll soon set the horses to a trot, or perhaps even a gallop, at which time you’ll be missing the snail’s pace as you try to keep up with her.”
“Good to know,” Gus said, closing the door.
They were soon in motion again, moving at a rapid clip until Gus caught up to Elsy, at which point the carriage slowed to where Gabriella was convinced she could have walked to Bleecker Street faster. That, however, only lasted for a minute because the carriage suddenly lurched into rapid motion—so rapid, in fact, that Winston tried to burrow his way behind Nicholas.
“I fear I may have been too hasty with all that talk of growing into an assertive personality,” Daphne said loudly, shouting to be heard over the rapidly moving wheels that were now bouncing over the cobblestones. She grabbed hold of her bag and pulled out a vial of smelling salts, keeping it grasped tightly in her hand, quite as if she were preparing herself for more frightening circumstances ahead.
Talk was next to impossible as they flew down the streets, but Gabriella wasn’t concerned they would suffer an accident. Gus had always been a capable boy when she’d lived with him on the Lower East Side. And even with them careening through the city at breakneck speed, she had every confidence he’d return her to Bleecker Street in one piece, although she was concerned about the condition Elsy and Ann would be in once they reached the boardinghouse.
Less than ten minutes later, the carriage pulled to a smart stop right in front of the Holbrooke boardinghouse. Gus opened the door and held out his hand to Daphne, who took it with a shaking hand of her own, stumbling to the sidewalk, even though Gus was doing his very best to help her maintain her balance.
“I’m feeling rather weak at the knees,” Daphne said as Gabriella stepped out after her.
“I hear that often from ladies in my presence,” Gus said, taking hold of Daphne’s arm, earning a grin from Gabriella as Daphne began stammering something about the condition of her knees having absolutely nothing to do with Gus.
“Glad that’s over,” Ann said, wobbling her way toward Gabriella as Elsy drove away, completely missing the turn that would have led her to the carriage house. Ann’s nose wrinkled, her gaze on the slowly departing carriage. “I have to admit that there were moments when I had to shut my eyes on the wild ride back here.”
“I’m sure Elsy didn’t appreciate that, not with how you were supposed to be assisting her with the reins,” Gabriella said.
Ann tucked a strand of red hair that had escaped the confines of her top hat behind her ear. “I don’t have any skill with the reins because I’ve never held reins before in my life.”
“You didn’t enjoy taking out that pony cart with Elsy?”
“Elsy never took out a pony cart. She merely drove one at a county fair one day, although saying she drove it might be a stretch, considering there was a man leading the pony while Elsy merely held the reins.”
Gabriella blinked. “That might have been pertinent to know before Elsy agreed to drive us to the ball tonight.”
“I suppose we were less than forthcoming, but it’s not as if there was another choice in the matter, since Ivan took ill right before you departed,” Ann said. “Nevertheless, we did make it back in one piece, so all’s well that ends well.” She turned her attention to the street and frowned. “I think I’ll wait out here until Elsy gets the carriage turned around. If she doesn’t come back within a few minutes, we might need to go after her.”
Before Gabriella could do more than nod, the door to the boardinghouse burst open, spilling light onto the porch and revealing a figure dressed in black, a sight that evidently took Gus so aback that he dropped his hold on Daphne’s arm, turned on his heel, and hurried back to the carriage.
“I’ll be waiting for you inside with Winston,” Gus called to Nicholas, disappearing into the carriage and slamming the door shut.
“Who is that?” Nicholas asked, nodding to the woman in black.
“Eunice Holbrooke, the owner of the boardinghouse.”
“Does she always wear full widow’s weeds even when she’s at home?”
“She does, and her choice of clothing lends her a most terrifying air, but no need to fret. She’s not a bad sort. I mean, yes, she’s got this unusual ability to steal up on a person without making a sound, but . . .”
“Dare I hope that underneath all those ve
ils is actually a kind elderly lady who enjoys handing out cookies to the neighborhood children?”
“Eunice isn’t old, although I’m not certain what her exact age is. I’d estimate she’s in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. But because I’m sure she must have a million questions right now, especially about why we’ve returned home with more people than we left with, we should introduce you.”
Nicholas glanced to where Eunice was standing on the front porch, joined now by Daphne, who’d managed to stagger her way up the steps. “You’re certain she’s harmless?”
“I never said she was harmless. I said she’s not a bad sort.”
“How reassuring,” Nicholas muttered, walking beside Gabriella up the steps.
Gabriella stopped directly in front of Eunice. “I’m sure you’re relieved to find us returned here relatively unscathed from our adventure tonight.”
“I’d be more relieved if you weren’t accompanied by some unknown man who seems to be covered in a great deal of blood,” Eunice returned.
“It’s a long and disturbing story, and I’ll be happy to share it with you, but only after we repair to the parlor, where I can fortify myself with a bracing cup of coffee. For now, allow me to ease any suspicions you might have about this gentleman. He’s Mr. Nicholas Quinn, and I assure you, he’s no threat.”
“Best not to take any chances” was all Eunice said to that before she pulled a pistol from her pocket and leveled it on Nicholas.
CHAPTER
Six
With how his evening had unfolded thus far, Nicholas couldn’t claim to be overly surprised that he was now being ushered into a boardinghouse by a pistol-toting lady dressed in black. He, concerningly enough, had little doubt the lady was proficient with her pistol, given the expert way she handled it.
“Eunice won’t shoot you,” Gabriella said, stopping in the entranceway. “Although I will caution you against making any unexpected moves. I wouldn’t want her pistol to go off by accident.”
