To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  “I had an inkling the two of you were involved with something that had to do with your inquiry agency.”

  “I imagine our disguises gave that away,” Daphne said. “I am curious, though, how you found us out. We look nothing like our normal selves, and yet somehow you recognized us.”

  “I recognized Gabriella almost the moment I laid eyes on her.”

  “What gave her away?”

  Nicholas turned his full attention on Gabriella, his gaze lingering on her face before he shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just knew. Just like I could always pick her out of a crowd when we were young.”

  Daphne tapped a finger against her chin. “Interesting” was all she said before she sent Gabriella a rather knowing look, one Gabriella didn’t understand in the least. Before she could contemplate it further, though, the carriage began to slow, then pulled to a stop.

  “Seems like we’ve reached our destination,” Nicholas said, looking out the window. “I see we’re at the Sampson house.”

  “Indeed we are,” Gabriella said, reaching for the door and opening it right as Phillip stepped into view, helping her out to the sidewalk. Nicholas climbed out after her.

  “I’d ask if you want me to accompany you, but I’m fairly sure you’ll say no. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  “You’re not going to insist on accompanying me?”

  “If you wanted my assistance, you would have asked, so no, I’m not going to insist on anything.” He smiled. “My days of trying to manage you are over. I was wrong to try to manage you in the first place.”

  “What brought that about?”

  He shrugged. “Sifting through memories of our shared past. You were always capable, and I, regrettably, forgot that.” He gestured toward the house. “You did say time was of the essence, so have at it. I’ll keep an eye on the perimeter and alert you if anyone approaches.”

  Having no idea what to make of any of that, but knowing that time really was of the essence, Gabriella turned and made her way toward the back gate. Letting herself through it, she strode for the back door, releasing a sigh when she found it locked, even though she’d told Mrs. Sampson to leave it open for her.

  It took all of five seconds to pick the lock with a pin she pulled from her wig, and then another fifteen seconds to locate the parlor, finding Mrs. Randall Sampson reading a book by the fireplace.

  “You were supposed to leave the back door open for me,” she said, walking into the room as Mrs. Sampson’s head jerked up and she let out a shriek before she pursed her lips and looked Gabriella up and down.

  “Miss Goodhue, is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me.”

  Mrs. Sampson tapped the book. “I apologize. I’ve been immersed in this riveting read by Montague Moreland. He writes such delicious tales that I’m afraid I lost track of the time. I did, however, remember to give the staff the evening off so they wouldn’t take note of anything unusual. But how did you get in here if the door was locked?”

  “A hairpin, which reminds me to tell you that you might want to hire a new locksmith because your locks leave much to be desired. But time is short, so shall we go see about opening up that safe?”

  Mrs. Sampson tossed aside the book that Daphne was certainly going to be pleased to learn she’d been reading and stood up. “You were successful with getting the key?”

  “I was, but I don’t have much time. If you’ll show me the safe, we’ll soon discover if your theory about what Angelica’s been up to is sound.”

  Less than three minutes later, Gabriella was standing in front of an open safe, sifting through the contents as Mrs. Sampson read off a list of items Angelica was trying to convince her husband her mother-in-law had misplaced.

  “A sapphire ring set in silver,” Mrs. Sampson said. “And then there was a spider brooch that’s not overly valuable, but it struck my fancy when I was in Paris last year, and I enjoy wearing it on the lapel of my ermine cloak. The black one.”

  “You have more than one ermine cloak?” Gabriella asked, pulling out a sapphire ring and then a spider brooch, items she added to the box Mrs. Sampson was using to collect her possessions.

  “I have eight, or perhaps it’s nine, but I’m not missing one of those. So, returning to my list, we have three items left—a ruby bracelet set in gold, a hatpin set with diamonds, and a piece of toast.”

  Gabriella found the bracelet and the hatpin, then grinned when she located a rock-hard piece of toast. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but your daughter-in-law is very peculiar. Why would she save this piece of toast she took from you?”

  “Angelica possesses an odd sense of humor. It would amuse her to see that piece of toast every time she opens her safe, and I imagine that amusement would have only increased if she’d been successful with convincing my son I lost my mind.” Mrs. Sampson held out the box and Gabriella dropped the bracelet, hatpin, and piece of toast into it.

  “What are you going to do now?” Gabriella asked.

  “I’m going to let Angelica stew for a bit, and then I’ll spring the evidence on her when she’s in the company of my son.” She smiled. “I’m certain I’ll feel a great deal of satisfaction, along with a good dose of my own amusement, as I watch Angelica try to figure out what happened to the items she took from me. That is, if you’re successful with returning that key to her without her knowledge.”

  “I don’t believe that’ll be an issue.”

  “Wonderful,” Mrs. Sampson exclaimed, turning on her heel and heading out of the room after Gabriella closed the safe. “Follow me, my dear. I believe payment for your time is in order.”

  “I haven’t finished the job yet.”

  Mrs. Sampson gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she walked down a hallway that was lined with so many paintings that Gabriella could barely spot the wall. She continued walking up a flight of stairs that led to the third floor, then into a sumptuous bedchamber she told Gabriella she’d moved into after her husband died.

  Placing the box into a blanket chest and covering it with a blanket, Mrs. Sampson turned and surprised Gabriella with a smile. “You’ve done me a great service tonight, Miss Goodhue, saving me a stint in an asylum while also allowing me to restore some of the dignity I’ve lost over the months that Angelica has tried to convince everyone I’m senile.” She walked briskly across the room, pulled out a book from a bookshelf, opened it, extracted a wad of bills, then returned the book to its proper place. Counting out the money, she handed Gabriella the bills.

  “There’s four thousand there, and with the thousand I gave to Mrs. Holbrooke, that’s five thousand.”

  “But again, I haven’t finished the job.”

  “I have every confidence you’ll be successful with that, my dear, and by taking the money from me tonight, you’ll save me a trip to Bleecker Street tomorrow.”

  The very idea she was holding four thousand dollars in her hand left Gabriella a little light-headed. Resisting the urge to grin the biggest grin she’d ever grinned, she caught Mrs. Sampson’s eye instead. “I, along with the other members of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency, appreciate your prompt payment, Mrs. Sampson. I hope you won’t experience any further difficulties with your daughter-in-law after you expose her duplicity, but if you do, you know where to find us.”

  “Indeed I do, and allow me to say that your agency is something the city has needed for years.” Mrs. Sampson’s lips curved. “We women don’t have the resources we need to aid us in our times of trouble, but thankfully, your new inquiry agency will fill that void. Know that I intend to highly recommend it to all of the ladies I’m acquainted with who could use some assistance with one disconcerting matter or another.”

  “Thank you for that.” Exchanging a last smile with Mrs. Sampson, something Gabriella never imagined herself doing with a society matron, she walked out of the room on feet that barely seemed to touch the floor. By the time she let herself out the back door, she was grinning like mad because,
if she wasn’t much mistaken, her life truly had just taken a most extraordinary turn.

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  “Did I mention that I’m beginning to believe Gabriella might be considering resuming her friendship with me?”

  Winston didn’t seem to hear the question because his head was stuck out the carriage window, his jowls flapping as the carriage trundled along.

  “She actually wrote back to me after I sent a note to the boardinghouse, thanking me for my offer of having my Pinkerton friend, Agent Clifton, look into the matter of the man who’d been following her. Granted, she declined my offer, stating that it would be curious for an inquiry agent to have a Pinkerton agent investigating something on her behalf, but at least she responded.”

  Winston’s jowls continued to flap as the carriage picked up speed, the frigid air leaving Nicholas shivering. He gave a tug on Winston’s collar, pulling the pooch back into the carriage before closing the window, earning an injured look from Winston, who scooted an inch away from him.

  Nicholas gave the dog an absent pat. “I’m hopeful Gabriella will decide a friendship with me is sustainable after all. I’ve come to realize that I missed her far more than I knew over the years we’ve been apart, and I find myself thinking about her constantly.” He gave Winston another pat. “I’ve been tempted to stop by the boardinghouse or by the dress shop to see her, but I’ve forced myself to avoid that temptation because I need to leave it up to her whether or not she wants to see me again.”

  A wet tongue lapping its way up his hand was Winston’s reply to that.

  “Thank you, Winston.” Nicholas blew out a breath. “In all honesty, I understand why she’s hesitant about resuming our friendship. I saw the way Maryanne treated her at the dress shop, then saw how a society matron treated her when Gabriella spilled champagne on me. They were not kind to her, and the reason for their unkindness is directly tied to how society members believe people they consider common aren’t worthy of the basic considerations they expect their fellow society members to extend to each other at all times.”

  Cocking his head, Winston peered at Nicholas with his one good eye.

  “I know, it’s not right for anyone to treat another so disrespectfully, which is one of the reasons why I’ve been feeling as if I’m at some sort of crossroads in my life. Going forward, if I do what’s expected of me and settle down with a society lady, I’ll be forever bound to a world I don’t always agree with. But what is the alternative? Turning my back on that world would devastate Professor Cameron, a gentleman I admire and wouldn’t want to disappoint. It leaves me in a bit of a quandary, one I . . .” Nicholas stopped talking as the carriage pulled to a stop. Looking out the window, he smiled. “Enough of the musing about my life for now, Winston. We’ve arrived at the Knickerbocker Club.”

  Winston gave a single wag of his tail as he pressed his moist nose against the window, his warm breath fogging the glass.

  The door to the carriage opened, and Gus, who was still acting as Nicholas’s coachman because Fritz had yet to return from caring for his sick child, stuck his head in. “Any idea how long you’ll be?”

  “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  “Want me to take Winston for a walk while we wait for you?”

  Nicholas looked to Winston, who was now wagging his tail at a furious rate. “He obviously wants to come with me, so no, you won’t need to see after him.”

  “You’re going to take him into the Knickerbocker Club with you?”

  Nicholas clipped a leash on Winston’s collar, and then picked Winston up and set him on the sidewalk when Winston balked at jumping out on his own. “Winston’s been more morose than usual of late since my schedule has been so full. I’m trying to make it up to him for how much time I’ve been away.”

  “Perhaps you should think about finding him a lady friend. It could go far in getting him out of his morose moods and would get rid of that guilt you’re feeling about leaving him. I daresay Winston might prefer the company of a nice lady dog over yours any day.”

  “Considering all the lady trouble I’ve experienced of late, I’m not sure finding Winston a lady friend will be in his best interest.”

  “You do seem to be in much demand.”

  “A direct result of the professor taking the liberty of mentioning last week at the Fairchild ball that he’s convinced this is the Season I’m going to select a wife.”

  Gus’s lips twitched. “That certainly explains why you’ve been under siege at every society event you’ve attended this week.”

  “It’s not amusing.”

  “Not for you.” Gus grinned before he turned and climbed up to the driver’s seat, sending Nicholas a nod. “I’ll park in the alley on the side of the club.” He took hold of the reins, gave them a snap over the horses, and drove away.

  Walking with Winston by his side, Winston’s tail still wagging furiously, Nicholas nodded to the doorman, who was holding the door open for him. “Thank you, Lester,” he said, to which Lester bowed in return, glanced at Winston, smiled, then straightened, the smile no longer visible as he resumed his post.

  Nicholas walked across a wooden floor polished to a high sheen, past a curved staircase that led to the second and then third floor, and into the reading room, with Winston now panting by his side. He accepted a freshly pressed copy of the New York Sun from Ernest, the Knickerbocker man who was responsible for keeping track of which paper each member of the Knickerbocker Club preferred.

  Ernest was also responsible for pressing the copies of the newspapers the Knickerbocker Club kept waiting for its members. Every member was given their own pressed copy, which would then be discarded after they’d read it. The Knickerbocker Club prided itself on giving its members only the best of amenities, and expecting a member to read a newspaper that had already been read by someone else was considered tactless.

  After thanking Ernest, Nicholas pulled Winston out from underneath the table the papers were stacked on and walked across the reading room, breathing in the scent of books that permeated the air, a scent that left him smiling.

  He would be forever grateful to Professor Cameron for providing him with an education that had led to a voracious appetite for books. That appetite had allowed him to enjoy Shakespeare, Thomas Paine, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Charles Dickens, Lord Byron, and lately, anything written by Montague Moreland.

  Taking a chair far away from a leather settee because Winston was afraid of leather, he settled into it as Winston plopped onto the lush carpet, closing his one eye a second later. Nicholas snapped open his paper, but before he could read a single headline, he was joined by Mr. Chauncey de Peyster.

  Chauncey was a gentleman in his early sixties who was from one of the most established families in the city. He was also a man known about town as a man who could lunch, having no need to work because of the vast fortune his family had accumulated through real estate deals.

  “Haven’t seen anyone bring a dog in here before,” Chauncey said by way of greeting.

  “I’m sure I’m not the first,” Nicholas returned pleasantly. “And, as you can plainly see, Winston is a perfect gentleman.”

  “He’s wearing an eye patch, which suggests he’s lived it rough.”

  “Those days are well behind him.” Nicholas returned his attention to the paper and frowned at the headline that met his eyes. “The Knickerbocker Bandit struck again?”

  Chauncey pulled up a chair directly beside Nicholas and sat down. “At the Fairchild ball. He apparently made off with Mrs. Fairchild’s entire ruby collection. She noticed the missing items when she retired in the wee hours of the morning, but the authorities have only just now released the information to the public. I believe they were hoping to solve the case quickly to avoid additional condemnation from society over their lack of success in capturing this bandit. Unfortunately, with the news now being released about the latest theft, I have to believe they’re no closer to solving who the Knickerbocker Ba
ndit is than when the first case happened a few years ago.”

  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until the bandit slips up,” Nicholas said. “Criminals always do make a mistake or two eventually.”

  “Yes, well, this bandit seems to be remarkably good at what he does.” Chauncey crossed one ankle over the other. “I was recently discussing this bandit business with numerous gentlemen here at the club, and we’re all in agreement that something must be done besides hiring on security to watch over our houses. The Fairchilds had security in place, and yet this bandit was still able to make off with a fortune in jewels. Talk has been turning to creating some sort of barrier between Fifth Avenue and the rest of the city in the hopes of keeping the undesirable residents of the Lower East Side from getting close to our homes.”

  Nicholas frowned. “You believe a barrier is needed to keep the people from the Lower East Side away from members of society?”

  “Quite right. We in society need to be protected from people who want to harm us. A barrier would certainly provide us with an extra layer of protection against those people.”

  Irritation settled over him. “You do realize that not every member of society lives on Fifth Avenue, don’t you?”

  “Didn’t consider that,” Chauncey said before he brightened. “I suppose there could be a case made for erecting a barrier around the Lower East Side, which would make it difficult for those people to travel into our part of the city.”

  Nicholas’s sense of irritation increased. “A barrier would make it difficult, if not impossible, for the people who live in the Lower East Side but work in all the fine houses here, as well as our fine restaurants and shops, to get to their jobs every day.”

  Chauncey’s gaze sharpened on Nicholas. “A word of advice, Mr. Quinn. You seem far too sympathetic to the plight of those people from the Lower East Side, but sympathies like those aren’t welcomed by members of the New York Four Hundred. You should have a care with your opinions about such matters.”