To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  Rookwood moved to join her by the fireplace. “I believe that when a child has to deal with tragedy, they sometimes purposefully forget the time surrounding that tragedy, especially if their world has been upended.” He took hold of her hand. “Do you not have any recollections of your mother?”

  “I’m afraid not, although I’ve often pretended the small painting of the lady on the inside of the pocket watch I stole all those years ago was my mother.”

  Rookwood smiled. “Ah yes, the pocket watch. We’ll get to that in a moment. But as for your mother, what you need to understand above all else is that she loved you very much. You were her pride and joy, and she was known to spoil you outrageously.” His smile dimmed. “Your father also doted on you to a certain extent, buying you a pony and often accompanying you and Josephine to Central Park, where they would watch you ride it.”

  “I had a pony?”

  “I daresay you did. You were, from all accounts, a most pampered little girl who also enjoyed going to the theater with your mother, staying backstage while she performed.”

  “She continued acting after she had me?”

  “At that point, I believe Josephine realized that since your father would not divorce his wife, she was in a precarious position. She continued acting to assure that, should anything happen to her, you’d have enough money to see you through your formative years, and probably beyond. Josephine was, even without your father’s financial contributions to her household, becoming a wealthy woman. Her salary for every show she performed in, from what I understand, was quite substantial and would have allowed her to live in style even if your father hadn’t provided for her.”

  “But what happened to her? And if she was a wealthy woman, how could it be that I ended up on the streets?”

  Rookwood walked Gabriella back to her chair, waited until she sat down, then began pacing again. “This is where the story turns disturbing. Unfortunately, Josephine caught a severe chill when you were about four and a half. That chill rapidly turned deadly, and she died within a week of coming down with her illness.” Rookwood stopped pacing. “Your father was away at that time. He enjoyed visiting warmer climates during the winter months. I believe he’d taken his yacht south to visit a home he had in Florida.”

  “My father owned a yacht?”

  “He did.” Rookwood caught Gabriella’s eye. “You, no doubt, are wondering why your father didn’t make arrangements for you after your mother died. The reason for that, I’m sorry to say, lies with your father’s wife.”

  “His . . . wife?” Gabriella repeated.

  “Indeed because, you see, this woman hated Josephine with a passion—hated that her husband was involved with an actress and found it an embarrassment to her family that everyone knew he and Josephine had a child. She decided to take matters into her own hands, which is why she sought me out directly after Josephine died.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Because she’d learned you took children in?”

  “No. She’d heard that I was a man who could make problems disappear. My reputation was greatly exaggerated, which I’d perpetuated because I knew if people believed I was a vicious sort, the children I kept taking in from the streets would be safer.”

  “And my father’s wife knew of your vicious reputation?”

  “She did. She arrived on my doorstep with you in tow a mere day after word got out that Josephine had died.” His eyes turned hard. “She wanted me to make you disappear, and believe me, I knew exactly what she meant by that.”

  Gabriella drew in a sharp breath. “Surely you’re not suggesting that this woman wanted you to murder me?”

  “I’m afraid so. And that is why I’ve always been convinced that God sent her to me that night instead of any of the other criminals working the Lower East Side. I was happy to take the large amount of money she handed over to rid herself of you, assuring her that I would make you disappear.” Rookwood inclined his head. “And I did make you disappear, only not in the way she was expecting. I took you in, changed your last name to Goodhue, and then decided that Nicholas’s idea of dressing you as a boy was exactly what was needed to keep you safe.”

  Gabriella’s brows drew together. “But how does my father play into all this? He must have been concerned about what happened to me after Josephine died.”

  Rookwood settled back in his chair. “From what I’ve been told, your father didn’t receive word of Josephine’s death until at least a month after she died. You were gone by the time he returned to the city, but he wouldn’t have been concerned about that because his wife told him that Josephine’s family had come and taken you away with them.”

  Gabriella frowned. “I thought Josephine didn’t have any relatives.”

  “She didn’t, but apparently your father was unaware of that. For all I know, he might have tried to find you, but that’s something only he knows.”

  Gabriella stiffened. “Knows? He’s still alive?”

  “Indeed, and he still lives in the city.” Rookwood rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know if I should continue on though, because, again, I could be placing you in grave danger because your father’s wife is still alive as well. I’ve tried very hard to keep you safe and alive over the years, no matter that leaving you at that orphanage broke my heart.”

  “You must know that I won’t let you simply end the story there,” Gabriella said.

  “You always were a tenacious child, and I’m not surprised that hasn’t changed.” Rookwood blew out a breath. “So, for the rest of it. Do you still have that pocket watch you mentioned earlier?”

  Gabriella reached into her pocket and retrieved the watch, holding it up.

  “Open it.”

  Gabriella flipped it open to the miniature painting that was opposite the clock face.

  “That is your mother.”

  Gabriella traced her finger over the small portrait, drew in a deep breath, then looked at Rookwood, who sent her a small smile when she arched a brow at him.

  “I learned that your father never went anywhere without that watch, claiming it was one of his dearest possessions.” He glanced at the watch. “There’s an inscription behind Josephine’s portrait.”

  Gabriella fumbled with it, her hands shaking.

  “Allow me,” Nicholas said, taking the watch from her and flipping the portrait open, revealing an inscription etched into the gold. He read it and handed it to Gabriella, wondering if he’d read it properly.

  “‘For my love, Chauncey, the owner of my heart,’” Gabriella read aloud, her voice quavering. She lifted her head. “Chauncey is my father?”

  “Mr. Chauncey de Peyster, to be exact.”

  Gabriella’s head shot up as she turned to Nicholas. “The lady who mistook me for Josephine . . . wasn’t that Mrs. de Peyster?”

  “It was.”

  Rookwood frowned. “Mrs. de Peyster mistook you for your mother?”

  “Nicholas and I were leaving a ball when we encountered her,” Gabriella returned. “She seemed flustered when she thought I was Josephine, but after I told her I was Gabriella Goodhue, she looked at me rather oddly and then simply walked away.” She turned to Nicholas. “It seems as if we might have done Mrs. Allen a disservice by assuming she was the one to start those rumors about my being the Knickerbocker Bandit. Mrs. de Peyster would have more reason to want me out of the picture than Mrs. Allen does.”

  “You’ve been accused of being the Knickerbocker Bandit?” Rookwood asked.

  After Nicholas fetched Agent Clifton from outside, wanting to include him in the discussion, it took a good thirty minutes to fill Rookwood in on everything that had occurred over the past few weeks. When they were done explaining, Rookwood looked to Gabriella and shook his head.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised you’re involved with an inquiry agency, and, frankly, I think it’s brilliant.” His lips curved. “May I assume, now that you’re involved with mysteries, that you’ve been dying to ask me if I’m the Knickerbocker Bandit?”
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  “I had wondered if you were behind the thefts,” Gabriella admitted. “But after hearing that you’ve turned your life around, I’m relatively certain you’re not the man we’re searching for, nor the man Nicholas saw following me.”

  “You didn’t recognize the man?” Rookwood asked Nicholas.

  “As I mentioned, there was something about him that seemed familiar, but he kept to the shadows, and I never got a good look at his face.”

  Rookwood frowned. “From what you said, that was at the Fairchild ball, where the Knickerbocker Bandit did strike.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I need to ask some questions around Five Points.”

  Gabriella sat forward. “Do you know who the Knickerbocker Bandit is?”

  “I have some suspicions, but again, I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I’ll start asking around in the morning, and if I discover anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “And while you do that,” Gabriella said, “Nicholas and I will make plans to visit the de Peyster family.”

  Rookwood frowned. “Mrs. de Peyster is a dangerous woman. She tried to get rid of you once, and, frankly, she’s probably more of a danger to you now since you can expose her to her husband.”

  “And expose her I shall,” Gabriella said firmly, turning to Nicholas. “Since you’re acquainted with my father, would you be able to arrange a meeting?”

  “Are you certain a face-to-face meeting is what you want?”

  She rose to her feet, tucked her pocket watch away, and nodded. “It is.”

  He rose to his feet as well. “You’re not thinking about going there right now, are you?”

  The barest hint of a smile curved her lips. “I hardly believe descending on the de Peysters in the middle of the night would be beneficial to anyone. Besides, while I was perfectly content to wear trousers to this meeting with Rookwood, I have no intention of arriving at the de Peyster residence looking anything but in the first state of fashion. I believe my mother would expect nothing less, which means we need to find Phillip because he will certainly be able to dress me in style.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Five

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Phillip. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume Gabriella was a member of the New York Four Hundred, out for a day of paying calls.”

  “We were fortunate Mrs. Clinch has developed such a love for sweets that she’s gone up two sizes since she ordered this gown—although that’s not fortunate for Mrs. Clinch,” Phillip said around a mouthful of pins as he continued hemming Gabriella’s gown. “We’re also fortunate I was here last night when Gabriella got home, which allowed me to race back to the shop and fetch this frock. Being able to get right to work on it means Gabriella won’t need to delay her trip to the de Peyster house.” He knotted the thread and snipped it with a pair of sharp shears. “There. You’re done.” He straightened, turned, and then stilled. “On my word, Eunice, you’re looking rather unlike yourself today.”

  Gabriella glanced over her shoulder and blinked because Eunice truly was looking unlike her usual somber self. She was missing her ever-present veil, and her blond hair was sticking up every which way in a very un-Eunice-like fashion.

  “I was set upon by disgruntled children while I took a nap in the parlor,” Eunice said, giving her untidy hair a pat. “When I awoke, I was missing my veil as well as almost every pin in my hair.” Her lips curved. “Not that I would admit this to Henrietta or Charlie, but I found it rather impressive that they were able to divest me of my veil and pins without waking me up.”

  Phillip considered Eunice with a critical eye. “And here I was hoping that you’d given up your mourning, because I had no idea there was such a beautiful woman lurking underneath those dreadful veils.” He rubbed his hands together. “I would adore having a chance to style you, and believe me, if you’d allow me to do that, you’ll soon find yourself touted as the most beautiful woman in the city.”

  Eunice shuddered. “My worst nightmare come to life, but thank you for the compliment. And to address the mourning business, no, I’ve not put it aside and will be resuming my full mourning attire just as soon as Ivan uncovers where those delightful children have hidden my belongings.”

  Gabriella winced. “I had a feeling Henrietta and Charlie might decide a revolt was in order. I must apologize since it was my idea to keep them here, and yet you, along with Daphne and Ivan, have been the ones left to deal with them.”

  Eunice waved that aside. “You’ve had much to occupy yourself with of late, and it’s not as if you’re the only one who knew those children couldn’t be allowed to return to whomever sent them to frame you.” She smiled. “Besides, I believe Ivan now sees Henrietta and Charlie as a challenge, and he’s never been one to resist one of those. Don’t tell him I told you this, but as he went off to search for my veils, I heard him whistling under his breath.”

  “Ivan doesn’t strike me as the whistling type,” Phillip said.

  “Oh, he’s not, but I think he’s enjoying himself immensely at the moment.” Eunice stepped up beside Gabriella and frowned. “Are you certain you want to go through with meeting this father of yours? His relationship with your mother was obviously questionable, and even though Rookwood believed that Chauncey de Peyster was smitten with your mother, I’m not convinced he’s going to react well to being reunited with an illegitimate daughter. Mr. de Peyster, from what I’ve learned through a few discreet inquiries this morning, is a gentleman who prefers to live his life without complications. You are definitely going to be a complication.”

  “Since Chauncey complicated my mother’s life by pursuing a relationship with her, I’m not opposed to upending his uncomplicated life. In fact, I could very well be relishing that idea.”

  Phillip smiled. “Good, you’re getting some of your feistiness back. I was concerned for a while because you seemed somewhat subdued this morning after what you’d learned, but now I think your meeting with your father will be fine.”

  “It was a lot to take in, what Rookwood disclosed to me,” Gabriella admitted. “He told me that Josephine loved me very much, but try as I might, I can’t remember her.”

  Eunice took hold of Gabriella’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure some memories will return eventually. For now, though, I think you should concentrate all your efforts on the meeting ahead.”

  Gabriella glanced in the mirror and smiled. “My meeting will certainly go smoother since Phillip styled me to look like I belong in a Fifth Avenue mansion. I was worried I’d arrive at the front door and be directed to the back.”

  “Since Nicholas is going with you,” Phillip began, “I don’t believe what door you were going to be ushered through was ever in question. And not that I care to dispense advice because that seems to turn you prickly, I think that if you’ll tuck away a bit of your pride today and allow Nicholas to lend you some of his strength, you’ll find your upcoming meeting with your father far easier than if you attempt to deal with everything on your own.”

  Gabriella’s brows drew together. “First, you’re always dispensing advice to me, and second, I was planning on welcoming Nicholas’s insight and help with everything today. He’s once again proven himself to be a wonderful friend, and I respect his insights on a variety of matters.”

  Phillip rolled his eyes. “Please. The two of you are far more than merely friends.”

  Before Gabriella could muster up a denial to that, not that she was sure she could deny it because her relationship with Nicholas did seem to be changing of late, Henrietta stomped into the room.

  “Ivan sent me up here to inform you that Nicholas has arrived,” the little girl said, shoving dark hair off of a face that was now clean, as were her hands, the only two areas of her body she’d agreed to have scrubbed. She was still dressed in her ragged clothes because she and Charlie were refusing to change into the new clothing Elsy and Ann had picked up at Rutherford & Company. They’d declared they could
n’t change into the new clothing because they might ruin it with the layers and layers of dirt coating their bodies. However, Gabriella knew they wanted to remain filthy and dress in their old clothing so they’d blend in with the crowds if they found an avenue of escape at some point, not that she was going to allow them to succeed with that.

  “That was very nice of you to come tell Gabriella that,” Eunice said, her lips curving. “Although Ivan could have just pulled the bell pull for Gabriella’s room. We would have known what that meant.”

  Henrietta shot a scowl at Eunice. “Ivan made me walk up three flights of stairs when he could have just pulled a bell pull?”

  “I imagine he did that because he’s been spending so much time scouring the house, looking for all those veils you stole from me.”

  Henrietta’s scowl was replaced with a smug smile. “He hasn’t found them yet.”

  Eunice returned the smile. “He will.”

  The smile faded from Henrietta’s small face. “We’ll just take something else, unless you let us go. We don’t like bein’ prisoners.”

  Gabriella moved to stand beside Henrietta, kneeling down so she could look the little girl in the eyes. “You and Charlie are not prisoners. The only reason we’re not allowing you out of the house is because we don’t know if whoever you work for has sent someone out looking for you.”

  “The boss won’t send anyone this soon. We’re never supposed to return to him right after a job. We’re just supposed to lay low so as not to bring attention his way. He won’t even know we ran into any trouble until tomorrow cuz that’s when he was going to make sure the authorities got word that someone saw you stashing away them diamonds. That means there ain’t no reason for you to keep us.”

  “After what I just heard, Henry, we might have to let them keep us.”