by Jen Turano
Nicholas frowned. “Mrs. Kaffenburgh might be off to Boston?”
“She’s very diligent about gathering information regarding appropriate ladies for her nephew.”
Daphne sat forward. “I wonder what the reaction will be when the ladies discover Mrs. Kaffenburgh has quit the city?”
“I imagine they’ll simply return to showering their attention on the eligible bachelors of New York.” Gabriella caught Nicholas’s eye. “You should prepare yourself for an onslaught. I’m convinced many of those ladies will be concerned that their behavior tonight may have harmed their chance of procuring the most sought-after gentleman of the Season. From what I was told time and again, you really are the most coveted prize in the city at the moment.”
Nicholas frowned. “You do know that’s rather insulting, don’t you?”
“Of course it’s insulting, but I’m not the one who claimed you were a prize. I think that may have been Miss Emma McArthur.” She looked out the window as the carriage slowed. “Is this Celeste’s house?”
“No, it’s mine. I told Gus to stop here first because I need to change my clothes. I can’t very well go sneaking into a house dressed like this. The jacket alone would confine my movements.”
Gabriella frowned as Gus opened the door and extended his hand to her. “I didn’t consider what I’m wearing, but the stuffing will also make stealing into a house problematic,” she said, stepping to the sidewalk.
“I’m completely capable of looking around Celeste’s house on my own,” Nicholas said, turning to help Daphne out.
“You’re not going anywhere on your own,” Gabriella began, any additional arguments she’d been about to voice disappearing the moment her gaze settled on the four-story brownstone in front of her. The sheer size of it took her completely aback, as did the distinct stamp of wealth and privilege attached to it.
In the blink of an eye, she was reminded of how far apart she and Nicholas had become, a distance that could never be breached, not when it was now remarkably clear that the well-dressed gentleman standing next to her lived in a world she was never meant to inhabit. She forced a smile. “It’s impressive.”
“That’s what I keep telling him,” Gus said, walking up with Daphne to join them. “But Nicholas is considering building a more impressive house.”
Gabriella’s brow furrowed. “Oh?”
Gus nodded. “He’s been looking at lots on the far side of Fifth Avenue down by Central Park because young society ladies long to settle there, preferably as close to Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt’s residence as possible.”
Gabriella narrowed her eyes on Nicholas. “You’re considering moving out of what you must know is a spectacular brownstone simply because one of the young ladies you might marry by the end of the Season could possibly prefer that location over this one?”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes right back at her. “That’s not the only reason. Location is very important to a gentleman’s standing in society.”
She gestured to the brownstone. “And I can certainly see how this location, as well as the derelict condition of your home, might hurt that standing.” She summoned up another smile. “Perhaps you should consider building a castle right next to Alva Vanderbilt’s monstrosity of a home. I have it on good authority that there are many young ladies in society who long to live in one of those.” Not bothering to wait to hear what Nicholas could possibly say to that, Gabriella headed for the door, which opened before she reached it, revealing a stooped man dressed in formal black livery. He presented her with a bow before he looked at Nicholas.
“Didn’t know you were going to bring guests home, Nicholas,” the man began. “Minnie will be delighted. She’s always going on and on about how she wishes you’d entertain once in a while so she’d have more occasions to use that fancy kitchen she’s in charge of.”
As Nicholas said something about Minnie knowing exactly why he didn’t entertain, Gabriella tipped her spectacles down her nose to consider the man, because something about his voice struck a chord.
“Billie?”
The man frowned. “That sure enough is my name, but how do you know it?”
“Because if you’re Billie Werkcle, Nicholas and I used to visit with you at the Black Horse Tavern, and you’d give us cups of apple cider. I’m Gabe, or rather, Gabriella Goodhue.”
Confusion clouded Billie’s eyes. “Beggin’ your pardon, but if that’s true, you haven’t aged well.”
Gabriella laughed. “I’m in disguise.”
“Ah well, that’s good to know. I was afraid you’d been forced to live it really rough.”
“It might be best, Billie, if you and Gabriella continued catching up after you show her inside,” Nicholas said. “We can’t afford to attract attention because it would be hard to explain what Mrs. and Miss Kaffenburgh are doing at my house.”
Billie craned his neck and looked beyond Nicholas. “Who are Mrs. and Miss Kaffenburgh?”
“That’s a story in and of itself, but again, it should be told inside,” Nicholas said.
“Right,” Billie said, taking hold of Gabriella’s arm and hustling her into the house, leaving Nicholas and Daphne behind, a circumstance she was relatively certain wasn’t something a butler was supposed to do.
“Have you been at this butler business long?” she asked as Billie tugged her down a hallway that was lined with beautiful paintings, many of which reminded her of works she and Nicholas had stolen in their youth.
“About nine or ten months now,” Billie said. “It’s a tricky thing, being a butler, and it comes with numerous rules, many of them I’ve yet to get down. But after the tavern burned down last year, I found myself out of work and in dire straits.” He stopped walking. “Tried my hand at picking pockets in Central Park. That’s where Nicholas found me.”
“You tried to pick Nicholas’s pocket?”
Billie winced. “Didn’t know it was him, or I wouldn’t have tried. He was on to me the second my hand slipped into his pocket.”
“Anyone would have been on to you, Billie,” Nicholas said, coming up behind them. “Your attempt to relieve me of my possessions was clunky at best and suggested you were woefully out of practice.”
“Only because I never thought I’d be out on the streets at my advanced age.”
“But you’re not out on the streets now, which is all that matters,” Nicholas said, nodding to Gabriella as he released Daphne’s arm. “I’m off to change and then we’ll discuss how I’m going to handle the Wilkins situation.”
Gabriella forced a smile. “There you go again, being all high-handed, which I suppose you’ve gotten used to, seeing as how there were so many young ladies tonight who made mention of your take-charge attitude.” Her smile dimmed. “You can nip that sort of talk right in the bud as well as resist any urge you may feel to try and manage me from this point forward.”
“I don’t remember you being this argumentative.”
“Probably because I wasn’t, but that’s only because you weren’t trying to take charge of situations back then.” Gabriella turned to Billie and eyed him up and down before nodding. “I’m going to need to borrow pants, shirt, and a jacket from you. Preferably in black. I could also use a black cap, if you’ve got one of those lying about.”
“Not sure you’ll fit in my clothes, Gabe,” Billie said. “There seems to be a great deal of”—he glanced at her rotund figure—“you.”
“Again, I’m in disguise. Frankly, I’m going to be swimming in your clothes, which reminds me that I’ll need a belt to go with the pants. Can’t very well go stealing about with my pants falling down.”
“You sure enough can’t,” Billie said before he looked to Nicholas. “You agreeable to Gabe borrowing my clothes?”
“Whether Nicholas is agreeable or not is of little consequence,” Gabriella argued before Nicholas could respond.
“Not sure what consequence means,” Billie began, edging ever so slowly away from her. “But since he’s the on
e paying me, I’m not about to take a chance he’ll kick me to the streets if I lend you my clothes and he’s not keen for me to do that.”
“Nicholas isn’t going to kick you to the streets, but that was a very nice distraction on your part.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take my pocket watch back, if you please—the one you just lifted while you were ‘seeking Nicholas’s advice.’”
Billie’s face turned red before he fished a watch out of his pocket, handing it to Gabriella. “Just wanted to prove I still have some skills.”
“The only thing you’ve proven is that you should be thanking your lucky stars Nicholas hired you as a butler,” Gabriella said, tucking the watch away. “I felt your hand the second it touched my clothing.”
“That’s only because I’m rusty from lack of opportunities, since Nicholas refuses to entertain guests here,” Billie muttered before he inclined his head Nicholas’s way. “I’ll see the ladies into the parlor and then go and rustle up some clothes for Gabe.”
“Try and behave yourself, Billie” was all Nicholas said to that before he turned and headed for the staircase.
Falling into step beside Billie, with Daphne trailing behind them, Gabriella soon found herself in a parlor that had numerous bookshelves lining the walls. Daphne immediately made a beeline for one of those shelves, her progress cut short when a brightly colored bird suddenly flew into the room and directly Daphne’s way.
“Duck!” Billie yelled.
Daphne immediately hit the floor, but the bird didn’t fly past her. Instead, it landed on top of Daphne’s wig, where it immediately began trying to relieve Daphne of the jeweled pin she’d borrowed from Eunice to help keep the heavy wig tethered to her head.
“Don’t just stand there,” Gabriella said to Billie. “Do something.”
“Best not to get too close to Pretty Girl when she’s got something sparkly in her sights,” Billie said. “She’s a nasty piece of work and can take off a finger with that sharp beak of hers.”
“I could use a little help here,” Daphne yelled, swinging her reticule in an attempt to knock the bird off her head, which only succeeded in Daphne giving herself a bit of a wallop.
“Honestly,” Gabriella muttered, striding forward and snatching up a poker from the fireplace. She began advancing on Daphne, who eyed the poker warily.
“You can’t mean to use that, can you?” Daphne asked, apparently having forgotten that there was a parrot rummaging around her wig.
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Daphne shook her head, but then, for some unknown reason, Pretty Girl took flight, landing on top of one of the bookshelves. Turning, Gabriella found Winston, the one-eyed pirate dog, ambling into the room.
“Hello there, ah, matey,” she said, which earned her a wag of a tail from Winston as he headed for the bookshelf Pretty Girl was perched on.
“Pretty Girl doesn’t care for Winston, probably because Winston has taken it upon himself to keep the bird in line. He seems to take issue with her helping herself to anything sparkly,” Billie said, hurrying across the room to assist Daphne to her feet. He made a big production of helping her get settled, as well as setting her wig to rights, before he moved to Gabriella, taking the poker from her. “Winston will make sure Pretty Girl behaves while I go fetch those clothes you wanted.”
Winston released the barest hint of a growl, his one eye settled on Billie.
Gabriella smiled. “Winston seems to have taken it upon himself to keep you in line as well, Billie. So, if you’d be so kind as to return the items you just nicked from Daphne, which would be her hairpin, pearl necklace, and ruby brooch, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
Billie’s shoulders drooped as he replaced the poker, stuck his hand in his pocket, and began pulling items from it. Handing those over to Gabriella, he blew out a breath. “In my defense, I just wanted to prove that I’m still capable of picking a pocket. That lady didn’t even know I’d taken her possessions, which proves I’ve still got the touch.”
“Daphne was just accosted by a mad parrot,” Gabriella argued. “She suffers from nerves at the best of times, so she certainly couldn’t have been expected to notice when a butler, who should know better, stole a necklace from around her neck.”
“I hope I’m mistaken and haven’t just witnessed you returning to your old ways, Billie.”
Gabriella turned and found a woman advancing into the parlor, dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, a flour-dusted apron covering her clothing. She marched her way over to Billie, accusation flashing through her eyes.
Billie shifted on his feet. “I haven’t returned to my old ways, Minnie. I was merely proving a point.”
“By relieving two older ladies of their possessions?”
“They’re not older ladies; they’re just in disguise.” He pointed to Gabriella. “She and Nicholas used to be acquainted with each other when Nicholas lived in Five Points.”
Minnie turned to Gabriella, eyed her up and down, then arched a brow. “Dressing in disguise suggests you’re up to no good, and I’ll tell you here and now that I won’t tolerate anyone trying to tempt Mr. Quinn back into the lifestyle he lived in his youth. He’s an upstanding gentleman of society these days, so with that said, I think this is where I escort you from this house before you sully Mr. Quinn’s good name.”
Gabriella considered Minnie for a moment. “I have no intention of sullying Nicholas’s good name.”
“And I’m simply supposed to take your word on that?” Minnie asked.
“’Course you are,” Daphne said, lifting her head from the book she’d begun to read. “Gabriella and I are out tonight on behalf of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency, trying to clear a name that actually has been sullied. That suggests we’re not in the business of tarnishing anyone’s name, Nicholas’s included.”
Minnie frowned. “You would have me believe the two of you work for an inquiry agency?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Gabriella said after she realized Daphne had returned to her reading. “But to put your mind further at ease, allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Gabriella Goodhue, but you’ll remember me as Gabe, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re the Minnie who used to be the cook at Madame Maxine’s.”
Minnie took a single step closer, her gaze traveling Gabriella’s length. “I suppose I see a slight resemblance to the child I used to know, but where, pray tell, have you been all these years?”
“That’s a long story, one that’ll need to be told at a later date because Nicholas and I are short on time.” She turned her attention to Billie, who was edging his way ever closer to Daphne, eyeing a bracelet attached to her wrist. “Maybe you should fetch those clothes for me, Billie, before you get yourself in trouble again.”
Billie blinked. “I have no idea what you could be accusing me of now.” He turned and slouched out of the room, leaving Minnie tsking under her breath.
“It’s little wonder Nicholas has stopped inviting guests over,” Minnie said, gesturing to where Pretty Girl was still perched on the bookshelf, bobbing her head up and down. “If Pretty Girl isn’t trying to relieve people of anything sparkly, Billie is.” She dusted flour off her hands. “While you wait for Billie to return, would you care for some tea?”
“I’m afraid we won’t have time for that, but thank you,” Gabriella said. “We do have time for a small chat, though, while we wait for Billie, and I’m curious why you left Madame Maxine’s. You obviously worked there for years.”
“Me and the madame had a bit of a row a few months back, but before I explain more about that, I’d like you to meet someone.” She hurried from the room, returning a moment later with a young girl who couldn’t be more than twelve. “This is my daughter, Bridget.”
One glance at Bridget and Gabriella didn’t need Minnie to explain why she’d left the brothel. Bridget had beautiful blond hair, and there was an innocent air about her that Madame Maxine would not have been able to ignore.
A
fter exchanging pleasantries with Bridget, Minnie sent her from the room, asking her to check on Billie’s progress. After her daughter disappeared from sight, Minnie sighed. “Bridget and I have been on our own ever since my good-for-nothing husband left me when she was just a baby. I always knew Madame Maxine would turn an interested eye Bridget’s way, but I wasn’t expecting that to happen when she was still a child. Once I realized the madame was getting ready to make her move, I knew there was no other choice for me and Bridget except to leave.” She nodded to the parrot. “I took that monster when we left, and without Madame Maxine’s permission. Bridget’s attached to the little beastie, and I figured I was at least due a parrot since the madame refused to give me a reference or pay me what I was due.” She shook her head. “I was almost afraid we’d have to resort to eating Pretty Girl after my money ran out and I couldn’t find a job. Thankfully, I ran across Nicholas as I was selling some biscuits in the park, and he didn’t hesitate to offer me work.”
“Best decision I ever made, since you’re the finest cook in New York,” Nicholas said, striding into the room, dressed in all black and wearing shoes that didn’t make a sound as he walked across the library.
Minnie beamed a smile at him. “I’m grateful to cook for you.” She turned back to Gabriella. “Bridget and I have the entire third floor here, while Billie and Gus have rooms above the carriage house. Fritz doesn’t live here, having a small house he shares with his family.”
Gabriella turned to Nicholas. “Is she talking about the Fritz who used to live with us when we lived with Rookwood?”
“The very same, but you won’t be able to greet him tonight. He’s got a sick child on his hands and has taken some time off from work. He’s normally my coachman, but Gus has stepped forward to take his place until Fritz returns.”
“What does Gus normally do for you?”
“He’s my valet.”
