To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  “What did you say?” Mrs. Cutting barked, placing a hand up against her ear.

  “I said I seem to have suffered a most unfortunate accident,” he replied, earning a frown from Maryanne.

  “That’s not what I thought you said.”

  “Ah, well, it is remarkably noisy in here.” He glanced to where Gabriella and Daphne had been standing, finding them nowhere in sight. He looked back to Maryanne. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to address the current state of my clothing. I may be a while.”

  Not waiting to hear the argument she most certainly wanted to make about him taking leave of her company, Nicholas turned and strode out of the ballroom and into a hallway, disappointment running through him when he found the hallway empty, save for a few guests who were admiring the paintings on the walls.

  Taking the curved staircase that led from the second-floor ballroom to the first floor, he moved through the reception hall and toward the front door, stopping when he realized that Gabriella wouldn’t exit through the front door, which would be a novice mistake. She’d use the back door and would have certainly left whatever means of transportation she was using parked behind the house, probably between Thirty-First and Thirty-Second Streets.

  Changing direction, Nicholas headed down a hallway that led to the back of the house, his pace slowing when he caught a glimpse of someone standing in the doorway of the study. Squinting, he stilled when a man stepped almost out of the shadows, and he realized it was the same man he’d noticed earlier. Edging into the shadows as well, Nicholas took a moment to consider his options.

  He could continue after Gabriella, which could very well earn him more of her temper, or he could keep an eye on a man he got the sneaking suspicion was up to no good.

  His decision was made for him a second later when the man began striding away, heading for the back door, a door Gabriella would have undoubtedly used as well.

  Keeping to the shadows, Nicholas strode after him, slipping through the back door and taking a second to look around the courtyard. Apprehension hurtled through him when he saw a shadowy figure disappear over the low wall that separated the house from the back alley.

  Nicholas broke into a run, reaching the stone wall moments later. Pulling himself up and over it, he landed lightly on his feet, tensing when he saw the man moving in what could only be described as a predatory manner toward a carriage that Gabriella was in the process of entering.

  Fury swept away his sense of apprehension, and keeping his focus squarely on who he now perceived as a threat to Gabriella, Nicholas charged toward the man, the sound of his pounding footsteps having the man glance over his shoulder before making a sharp right and running down the alley, away from the carriage.

  Changing directions as well, Nicholas raced after the man, frustration mounting when he reached a main street and found him nowhere in sight. Turning to retrace his steps and hopefully catch up with Gabriella to warn her, he paused when a carriage trundled into view. As it passed, he caught sight of the occupants—one dressed in livery, the other wearing black spectacles.

  Not allowing himself a second to reconsider, Nicholas took off after the carriage, grabbing hold of the door and wrenching it open before he flung himself inside, landing on the seat directly next to Gabriella.

  It really came as no surprise when something that felt very much like a heavy book began walloping him on the head.

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  “In all honesty, I believe I appreciated the frequently fainting Daphne over this new, more vicious version.”

  The horror that had been chugging through Gabriella’s veins the second a man had thrown himself into her carriage died a rapid death, replaced with incredulity when she realized the man sprawled next to her was Nicholas.

  “What in the world would possess you to jump into my carriage?” she demanded as Daphne stopped beating Nicholas with the very large botanical book she’d pulled from her bag the moment the carriage door burst open.

  Nicholas sat up and rubbed his head. “I assure you, if there’d been another option available to me, I would not have risked life and limb, or the state of my head, to speak to you.”

  Gabriella waved that aside. “You could have spoken to me yesterday in Villard’s Dress Shop, which would have allowed you to avoid any personal harm done to your person. Although”—she sent him a tight smile—“that would have certainly drawn attention from your many lady friends, so I suppose I understand why you’d prefer to speak to me in a closed carriage, even if I have no idea what could possibly be so important that you’d risk being seen with a footman and a maid.”

  “You were being followed.”

  Gabriella stilled. “What?”

  “There was a man following you.”

  Gabriella glanced to Daphne, who was resettling herself on the seat opposite them. “Did you notice someone following us?”

  Daphne straightened spectacles that were slightly askew. “I’m afraid not, but both of us were somewhat preoccupied in trying to get away from the ball undetected.”

  Gabriella turned back to Nicholas. “Why are you so sure this man was following me?”

  “He stayed to the shadows, kept a proper distance, and then bolted after he realized I was following him.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Gabriella said. “No one except the members of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency know I’m out on a mission tonight or know I’m not really a footman. Besides, no one has a reason to follow Gabriella Goodhue around.”

  “I’m afraid someone does. And even though you don’t seem to be in a charitable frame of mind toward me, you have to remember that my instincts about such matters were rarely wrong in our youth.”

  It was certainly true that she was not in a charitable frame of mind in regard to Nicholas, but she did remember that his instincts for danger were unparalleled, which meant there was a very good chance Nicholas was not mistaken and that someone had been following her, but for what purpose, she had no idea.

  Before she could question Nicholas further, though, the carriage came to a jarring halt. A moment later, Phillip flung open the door, his attention immediately going to Nicholas.

  “Elsy said she saw a man leap in here, but I didn’t believe her,” Phillip began, reaching into the carriage to take hold of Nicholas’s arm, then stilling when his attention settled on Nicholas’s face. “Mr. Quinn. What are you doing here?”

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “I could ask you the same, because if I’m not mistaken, you’re Monsieur Villard from Villard’s Dress Shop.”

  Phillip narrowed his eyes right back at him. “What I’m doing here is of little consequence, but I can’t say the same about you, unless it’s a normal occurrence for you to throw yourself into moving carriages.”

  “I needed to warn Gabriella that someone was tailing her. When I saw her through the carriage window, I acted on impulse.”

  Gabriella glanced to the window. “I must have forgotten to draw the curtain earlier.”

  Phillip winced. “That was my mistake. Elsy and I decided to wait inside the carriage because she needed more light to knit by. I’m afraid I forgot to redraw the curtain after we saw you and Daphne approaching.”

  “There’s no need for you to beat yourself up about that, Phillip,” Gabriella said. “You’re new to this kind of business and have relatively little experience with covert operations.”

  “I would think he definitely shouldn’t be well versed in covert operations, since he runs a dress shop,” Nicholas said before Phillip could respond.

  “Too right you are,” Phillip said before he nodded to Gabriella. “Because we’re pressed for time, shall I get Mr. Quinn out of the carriage?”

  Nicholas peeled off the hand Phillip still had wrapped around his arm as a hint of exasperation flickered through his eyes. “I would prefer staying in the carriage, and I would think that because a man was following Gabriella, all of you would appreciate me staying in the carriage as well.”


  “You just want to stay so you can try to talk me out of what I’m doing tonight,” Gabriella said.

  “While I readily admit I’m curious about what you’re up to,” Nicholas began, “I’m more concerned about the threat to you and Daphne. However, if it’ll put you in a more agreeable frame of mind, feel free to keep what you’re doing to yourself. You may simply consider me a bit of muscle you might have need of if that man intercepts us on our way to wherever it is we’re going.”

  For a second, Gabriella thought she’d misheard him. “You’re not going to press me about my mission tonight?”

  “I’m not.”

  “How . . . unexpected,” she said before she caught Phillip’s eye. “What do you think?”

  “If what he claims is true about someone following you, I wouldn’t be opposed to having another man with us. I’m armed—and have two pistols, at that—but Elsy told me her proficiency with a pistol rivals her driving abilities, which is why I didn’t give her my spare pistol earlier.”

  The part of her that was furious with Nicholas longed to toss him out on his ear, but the practical part of her, the part that realized they could be in danger, especially Daphne, who was ill equipped to look after herself, had her blowing out a breath. “Fine, you can stay, Nicholas, but no questions.”

  “I’ll get us going, then,” Phillip said, withdrawing from the carriage and shutting the door. A moment later, the carriage jolted into motion.

  “Should I bother asking why the owner of a dress shop is driving your carriage?”

  She arched a brow. “Did you or did you not hear me say no questions?”

  “I thought that only centered around what you’re doing tonight.”

  She refused to allow her lips to curve. “And here I thought it was a blanket demand.”

  “I can’t even ask about the weather?”

  “Why would you want to ask about the weather? It’s November, hence chilly with possibilities of snow every now and again.”

  “A valid argument, although I feel compelled to point out that questions are a necessity when participating in polite conversation. They allow the participants to keep the conversation moving forward.”

  “And I quite agree with that. However, we’re not currently sitting down in a polite setting, and you’re not a treasured guest. You volunteered to be extra muscle, and muscles don’t need to speak. They speak for themselves—and silently.”

  Daphne reached for her bag and pulled out her notepad and pencil. “Oh, that’s a good one, Gabriella, and may come in quite useful with a piece I’m working on.”

  “You’re going to use a bit about muscles in a poem?” Nicholas asked.

  “There you go again with another question,” Gabriella said when Daphne didn’t bother to answer because she’d turned her attention to her notes.

  Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest. “This is far harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Which is why you should descend into silence now, which will allow me an opportunity to prepare for the task ahead.”

  To her surprise, Nicholas didn’t say another word, and silence settled over the carriage for a long while, broken only by the intermittent scratch of Daphne writing on her notepad, until she raised her head and looked at Nicholas.

  “I’m curious how you first came to notice something was amiss with that man you claim was following us. Was there something specific about him that drew your attention?”

  Nicholas shifted on the seat. “I’m not certain I’m allowed to answer that, Daphne, because Gabriella told me to keep quiet.”

  “She was rather adamant about that, and in fairness to you, your question about what Monsieur Villard is doing with us should be answered before I begin posing questions of my own.” She turned to Gabriella. “It wouldn’t jeopardize our mission to explain that to him. Plus, if you answered his question, he would then feel obligated to answer our questions.”

  “I don’t have any questions for him.”

  Daphne cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you? Because I distinctly remember you—”

  “Fine, I’ll explain about Monsieur Villard,” Gabriella hurried to interrupt, not wanting Daphne to disclose exactly how annoyed she’d been with Nicholas for not acknowledging her, or that she’d been caught muttering about him by every resident of the boardinghouse. “It’s no secret that Elsy and Ann have been having difficulties controlling Eunice’s carriage. Phillip offered to drive with Elsy tonight because he decided it was his duty, as a New York citizen, to protect the residents of the city from Elsy’s abysmal driving abilities. He’s been teaching her how to properly handle the reins, but she still has a lot to learn. Frankly, I believe he’s being so insistent about the matter because he’s worried Elsy and Ann are going to run over future customers of his.”

  “You address Monsieur Villard by his given name?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “I thought he was your employer.”

  “He is, but we’re also friends. That friendship is another reason he offered to drive with Elsy, because he wanted to make certain I survive the night in one piece.”

  “He also seems to have developed fond feelings for Elsy,” Daphne said, looking up from her notes for the briefest second before she resumed writing again.

  “I thought, perhaps, that you and Monsieur Villard might share more-than-friendly affection for each other,” Nicholas said to Gabriella.

  “I believe Phillip sees me more along the lines of his dramatic and, at times, somewhat annoying little sister, quite like you used to view me in our youth.”

  “I never thought of you as my annoying little sister. I probably did think you were somewhat dramatic at times, especially when you’d get involved with scraps with other street children and I’d have to haul you away from them because you were always outnumbered.”

  Her heart gave an unexpected lurch at the memories his words evoked. “I’m sure you saved me more than a few beatings. I never could seem to resist rising to their taunts and wanting to quiet them with my fists.”

  “I have to think you’ve curbed the impulse to lash out these days, or at least most of the time—your punch to my stomach an exception to that observation, of course.”

  “Why would you think that?’

  “You work in a shop that caters to society ladies, many of whom are known for their careless treatment of those they consider . . .”

  “Not of their class?” Gabriella finished when Nicholas suddenly stopped speaking.

  He winced. “I’m afraid so, but because I’ve broached the topic of your occupation, allow me to take a moment to tell you that I never meant to annoy you yesterday by showing up at your place of business. I had no idea you worked there, but given how you dismissed me out of hand, I got the distinct feeling you thought I sought you out on purpose and had violated your wish to never see me again.”

  “I didn’t dismiss you.”

  “Yes, you did. You turned your back on me and never bothered to glance my way again.”

  Temper began coursing through her veins. “I turned my back on you after you refused to acknowledge me. What else could I have been expected to do? Fall at your feet and beg you to extend me some type of greeting? Frankly, I’ve been finding myself in sympathy with Virgil Miskel, because you admitted you didn’t acknowledge him either when you ran across him at some point. Virgil, being an unlikable sort, was never a person I thought I’d feel sympathy for, but after experiencing how it feels to be slighted in a way I never thought to experience from you, I find myself feeling unusually charitable toward him.”

  Nicholas considered her for a long moment before he frowned. “You’ve leveled an unjust accusation against me.”

  “Oh? Did I miss you sending me a wave, or even a smile, let alone a verbal greeting?”

  “Well, no, but I had every intention of doing so.”

  “Intentions don’t count for much when they don’t become actions.”

  Nicholas i
nclined his head. “True, but you have to understand that the only reason I didn’t immediately greet you was because the sight of you in that shop took me by such surprise that I was rendered slightly, ah, incapacitated.”

  “An incapacity due, no doubt, to your concern that I might publicly prove to everyone in the shop that you’re acquainted with a seamstress?”

  “I would never refuse to acknowledge you.”

  “You already did.”

  Nicholas’s brows drew together. “You were smiling for the briefest time right before I noticed you’d caught sight of me, but that smile quickly disappeared, leaving me with the distinct impression you were furious with me for showing my face in the dress shop.”

  She was tempted to keep the truth of her smile to herself, but then blew out a breath, knowing that denying the reason was hardly going to matter. “I was smiling because I caught sight of you.”

  Nicholas blinked. “But you’d told me you didn’t want to see me again.”

  “True.”

  “That’s all you have to say to that?”

  She threw up her hands. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have more important matters to attend to at the moment than discuss the relationship we no longer share. However, it appears I misunderstood what happened yesterday at the shop, so I will beg your pardon for believing you didn’t want to greet me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And since the two of you seem to be slightly more in accord now that your misunderstandings have been put to rights,” Daphne began, setting aside her notepad, “would now be a good time to return to my question about that man who was following us?”

  Nicholas quirked a brow Daphne’s way. “I was under the distinct impression that you were completely oblivious to the conversation Gabriella and I were sharing, because you seemed absorbed in your writing.”

  “I have the ability to listen and write at the same time, if I put my mind to it,” Daphne said, her lips curving. “I often find myself privy to unexpected tidbits of information because people think I’m oblivious to them. I’m now convinced any future tidbits I may glean through what I believe I’ll call my oblivion method will come in handy with the agency, now that it’s up and running at full speed.”