by Holly Bush
“What about your sisters? What would you do if one of them was taken?” Alexander asked.
James walked to the door of the kitchens. He turned to Alexander as MacAvoy went out into the night. “My sisters know their duty. Whatever sacrifices must be made, they shall make them.”
The door slammed behind the men, and Alexander dropped down into his chair. A chill went down his spine. There was no mistaking what Thompson meant. If Elspeth was kidnapped, leveraged to get to the boy, no ransom would be paid for her safety.
Chapter 15
“Where were you so late last night, James?” Elspeth asked.
“I’m a grown man,” he said. “Sometimes I’m out late, and I don’t have to report to a younger sister—or an older one.”
“So where were you?”
“Just out with MacAvoy,” he said finally.
“Out fighting? You’ve got a split lip. You never fight when you’re not getting paid.”
James glanced at her from where he stood beside her in the storeroom, inventorying their canned goods. “No, I don’t. But I fight if I have to,” he said with a shrug.
“Over a woman, most likely,” she said with a smile.
“And when do I have time to woo a woman? Between this business and the family and the matches, I scarce have time to draw breath.”
“Then why were you fighting? Does it have anything to do with the men who followed me at the market and after your match?”
James hefted a box of jarred pickles onto his shoulder and sat it on the highest shelf, pushing it back toward the wall and bringing a gust of dusty air floating down. “Ah, it’s dirty in here. Should get the boys to clean up a bit and sweep.”
James picked up the list of items in storage, checking off a few with the pencil stub from behind his ear. They worked in silence, Elspeth packing wooden boxes, sealing them, and gluing a label on the wide top slat while James moved older product forward according to the date on the label. He secured a shelf underneath with an extra cross board and looked back at her over his shoulder.
“Your boy can hold his own.”
“My boy? Whoever are . . . Alexander? Mr. Pendergast was with you?”
James nodded and smiled. “Did well even when MacAvoy and I stood back and watched.”
“He’s not used to fighting. You mustn’t drag him into this. You and MacAvoy have been fist-fighting since you were boys. He has not!”
“Elspeth,” he said softly. “He came to us. He came to us and asked us to come with him to check on a place being used by these men. And anyway, I had to know he could protect you if he had to.”
“Is he hurt?”
James laughed. “No, he’s not. He’s fine. Do you have any more of those green beans from last fall in that stack?”
“Why have I been targeted?” she whispered and then looked up at him. Her hands shook a bit as she wiped them on her apron and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“You’re who I would pick.”
“But why? Why would anyone pick me?” She waited until he turned. “Why?”
“Because Muireall rarely leaves the house except to go to that orphanage, and one look at Kirsty and any man’s going to know that she would be loud and disagreeable and would make a scene worthy of a whore on Harbor Street.”
“And I’m biddable.”
“I know you’re not. But they don’t,” James said. “I said Kirsty would make a scene. She makes a scene about everything. You won’t make a fuss unless pushed into it, like at the brothel when you went to Mrs. Fendale’s.” He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his hand. “Listen to me, Elspeth. You’re bright and lovely and persistent in your own quiet way. But from an evildoer’s perspective, you’d be easier to manage then Kirsty. Don’t make it easy for them. Be on your guard and stay close to me or MacAvoy or Pendergast the night of this party.”
“MacAvoy? MacAvoy is going to the Pendergast ball?”
“The head of security for Mr. Pendergast came to see him and asked him if he’d be interested in earning a bit on the side. Gave him money for a proper suit.”
She grinned. “At least he won’t have to dance with Kirsty.”
“Elspeth! Elspeth!” they heard Kirsty call from the top of the steps. “Elspeth! Hurry! Mrs. Dunleven is here with our dresses!”
James laughed. “You’d better hurry. She’ll be causing a scene soon, if she already hasn’t.”
Elspeth spent the next two hours with her sisters and aunt and the dressmaker. She could hardly believe how dazzling Kirsty looked in the rose-colored silk she’d chosen. It was the perfect color to complement her dark blond hair and pale blue eyes. Elspeth’s dress fit perfectly, with long open lace sleeves attached off her shoulder to blue velvet, although the bodice was the most revealing she’d ever worn. Mrs. Dunleven said it was the height of fashion, as was the small bustle and the pale blue silk-and-lace train. There were dark blue slippers with a low heel to match.
They’d always had suitable everyday dresses and dresses with matching jackets for church, and some with lace and embroidery for evening, but she’d never owned anything as fancy or as beautiful as this. She wondered what Alexander would think of it. She wondered if he’d kiss her again and hoped very much that he did. She’d been kissed by two other men in her life, neither inspiring her to dream about them as she’d been doing lately about Alexander. Alexander. It felt so very intimate to call him by his first name. As if she were privy to a secret world that he was at the center of. She would be happy to heed James’s advice and stay very close to Alexander the whole evening. Maybe there would even be a moment of privacy for another kiss.
Alexander and his father walked with Graham as he explained his plans to keep all the guests safe on the evening of the ball.
“I have several men, including myself, who will be in formal wear mingling with guests and watching for any unusual activity. We will check every entrance and window prior to any guest arrival and have a man stationed at all of the doors for the duration of the evening. We’ve interviewed all the staff who will be working here that evening, both in the house and those managing the carriages and horses.”
“It sounds as if you’ve been very thorough,” Alexander’s father said. “Let’s hope everything goes according to plan.”
“There will be a young man here who is the target of these violent attempts on the Thompson family. He is fourteen years old, and his name is Payden Thompson. It is imperative that he is kept safe,” Alexander said.
“Payden? The young brother your mother has been talking about?”
Alexander nodded and thanked Graham, waiting until he’d left he and his father alone. “Yes, Payden. I cannot reveal the particulars as it is not my story to tell, and they’ve told me very little anyway. I don’t want Miss Thompson or any of her family worried. You’ll have to trust me.”
“Absolutely. There won’t be any other guests here his age. Let me know if your mother or I can help keep him occupied.”
Elspeth was in her room, mending a petticoat and alternately staring out the window, wondering where Mr. Pendergast was and what he was doing. What if he was in another fight? She must stop, she told herself. She would only make herself worried over something she could not control.
“Come in,” she said to a tap at her door.
Muireall came in, closed the door, and wandered to the window carrying a metal box, staring out in concentration as if Elspeth were not even there.
“Muireall? Is there something you need?”
“What? Oh.” She crossed to the bed and sat down. “I have brought you something.”
“A gift?” Elspeth said with a laugh. “With that beautiful new dress, I am hardly in need of any more gifts.”
It seemed as though Muireall did not even hear her. She lifted the lid of the metal box and drew out a long strand of pearls. “These are part of the Taviston jewels. I think this necklace would look particularly lovely with your dress. There are ear bobs too.”
>
“The Taviston jewels?”
“Some were stolen when our ancestors raided a nearby keep two-hundred years ago, and some were gifted to us from the royal family for a deed done in more recent history. There is a significant collection. I’ll be wearing this brooch, and I thought Kirsty would like to wear this bracelet with the pink stones. I don’t know what they are, but—”
“Muireall, you’ve had this hidden somewhere in the house?”
She nodded. “I won’t tell you where. That way you would not know if you were asked.”
“Are we telling people that Payden is the earl?”
“No, but we are going to act as daughters and sisters to an earl, which we are. We will not flaunt, but we will not hide either,” Muireall said in a steady voice, staring at her with a calm and serious face.
Elspeth took the pearls in her hand and examined them. They were exquisite and probably worth a fortune. Good Lord, she’d be worried about them until they were back in Muireall’s strongbox.
“I have something else for you,” she said, and Elspeth looked at her outstretched hand. A long dagger lay across her palm. “Sew it into your dress so that you can get to it quickly if necessary.”
“You’re frightening me,” Elspeth whispered. “Do you think they will be there? At the Pendergasts’?”
“I don’t know. I do know that we are exposing ourselves for the first time in years, and we know they are actively in pursuit. I will not be caught off guard.” She looked steadily at Elspeth. “I will lay down my life to protect him, even if there is no rescue for me. Whatever the consequences.”
Elspeth took the knife in her hand and turned it over, watching the lamplight catch a reflection on the thin, shining blade. “I’m not sure I could kill someone, Muireall.”
“And I’m sure you could if you were fighting for your family or for yourself. Don’t underestimate your own intuition. The MacTavish women before us fought and killed alongside their menfolk, just like Mother was willing to do with her sword the day Payden was taken. She would have swung that long blade with deadly intent, if necessary,” Muireall said dispassionately and glanced up at Elspeth. “Always remember to go for the kill. The jugular or the heart, if the clothing is not too thick. Women do not get second chances.”
“You seem certain this will come to a conclusion soon and that one of us will be challenged.” Elspeth looked at her eldest sister, her serious face devoid of compassion.
“We’ll be eating soon. Leave the mending for another day,” Muireall said and left the room.
But would it come to the conclusion they wished? Would they be safe? Would Payden be safe? And traitorously, she wondered what would happen if they were victorious and the Thompson family returned to their rightful place in Scotland. Well, she would be where she had been for years. Alone.
Alexander’s mother and father stood near the entrance to their home, greeting guests and directing them with the help of a vast number of servants: to the ballroom, to the retiring room for the ladies to freshen lip rouge or leave wraps, or to the rooms adjoining the ballroom, where elaborate buffets contained sculptures of ice holding shrimp, servants carved meats and passed finger-sized crepes, and tables had been set up where wine and champagne were poured.
Alexander was nearby, being assessed by his father’s sister-in-law. “And who is the young lady who has caught your eye, Alexander? I must meet her. Gwen said you are smitten.”
“You mustn’t let my mother’s hopeful wishes intrude on the truth, Aunt Isadora,” he said with a smile. “Where is Benjamin? And Ralph? I’m sure they need your guidance when looking for a bride.”
She tapped him on the arm with her folded fan. “My sons will not even introduce me to any of their friends. I pin all of my matchmaking schemes on you and your sister.”
He began to walk toward his parents and smiled at the pitiful face she made. “Here comes Uncle Nathan to be your escort. Mother is nodding to me rather vigorously.”
“And there’s my very best employee,” Schmitt said in his booming voice as he shook his father’s hand. Alexander put out his hand, relieving his father of the duty, while Mrs. Schmitt, the least delicate woman in the city of Philadelphia, engaged his mother in a lengthy to-do concerning how much she was paying her servants. Mother’s eyebrows rose and lowered as Berta commiserated over their laziness. He could see her cheeks getting pink. She spoke in a low voice meant for Mrs. Schmitt alone, a smile on her face. Mrs. Schmitt’s eyes widened, and she clutched her husband’s arm.
“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “Come along now, Henry. The Pendergasts have other guests to see to.”
“Another success, Mother,” Alexander said as the Schmitts walked down the long, wide hallway, Berta glancing over her shoulder at him, or at his mother and father, he could not tell. It made him wonder what his mother had said to her. He was still looking down the hallway when he heard his mother’s voice.
“And here are the Thompsons. Welcome to our home.”
He turned quickly and noted the boy, Payden, was first, his Aunt Murdoch holding his arm. He held himself straight, whether out of nervousness or the fact that he had centuries of blue blood running in his veins, Alexander could not be sure. He was wearing a fashionable dark suit with a plaid handkerchief sticking out of the pocket over a bright red vest. He was already a handsome young man, ruddy cheeks and all, with the promise of more height to come. Aunt Murdoch looked at his parents with her normal hauteur.
“Mother, Father, this is Mr. Payden Thompson and his great aunt, Mrs. Murdoch, as I’m sure you remember. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Pendergast.”
“Of course we remember, although I will admit I was rather focused on Alexander that day. How thrilled we are that you chose to join us this evening,” his mother said and shook Payden’s hand.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Payden said. He turned to the rest of his family. “My eldest sister, Miss Muireall Thompson, with my brother, Mr. James Thompson.”
Payden stepped back, intending to reacquaint his parents with his other two sisters, and that was when Alexander saw her, and the noise of excited chatter and the click of heels on the marble floors faded. She was looking at him, not a hint of a smile, looking a little nervous, holding a small bag at her waist. Her dress was the palest blue silk with dark blue trim, exposing her shoulders. A string of pearls was wrapped around her neck twice, the long strand dropping over her cleavage. He walked past her family, heard the young boy as if he were far away, noting his other two sisters. Her sister moved forward, shaking his mother’s hand. He went directly to Elspeth, and they were alone in a crowded room.
He was more sorry than he could say that he could not spend every minute of the evening with her. He had some social obligations on behalf of his family, but mostly he would be working with Graham, circulating in the hallways, checking accesses to storage rooms and servants’ quarters since they would definitely be deserted this evening. But he would not deny himself these first few minutes that he’d been anticipating for so long.
“You look beautiful,” he said and watched a blush climb her neck and cheeks.
“You look very handsome,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “Very handsome.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” Alexander heard a discreet cough behind Elspeth and looked around. “We should move. We don’t want to hold up Mother’s receiving line.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Elspeth said and took the arm he held out. “I see Kirsty has already found your sister.”
Alexander heard some high-pitched giggles and saw his sister and Kirsty Thompson among a group of Annabelle’s friends. He turned to Elspeth. “Would you like some wine or champagne?”
“Actually, just some lemonade or water would suit me to start with. Maybe some wine with dinner,” she said.
“Lemonade it is.”
They walked through the double doors into a large anteroom off the ballroom where servants were pouring wine f
or guests. Tables ringed the room, and a large serpentine one stood at the center with a massive ice carving as the centerpiece. Tables were filled with shelled oysters, lobster tails, sliced lamb, petits fours, lemon tarts, chocolates and raspberries, and every kind of cake and sweet to be had. Staff were serving guests, many seated at the small tables scattered about the room.
It was everything Elspeth had ever imagined about a fancy ball and more. It was as if she were in a fairy story with a handsome prince. She could hear an orchestra tuning their instruments in the next room and turned to Alexander.
“This is all so very beautiful. The flowers, the food, the guests. No wonder your mother’s invitations are so sought after.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Just from all the guests in line as we waited to come inside.”
“There really is only one guest I’m concerned about.”
“And who might that be?” she asked, smiling.
“Are you aiming for a compliment, Miss Thompson?” He grinned. “May I get you a plate with your lemonade?”
“No, thank you.” She took his arm to walk to the staff serving beverages.
There was something very special about Alexander Pendergast, and the looks she was getting from others as she walked, her arm entwined with his, confirmed that opinion. Men, young and old, nodded as he passed and swept a look to her. The women glanced discreetly from behind fans and gloved hands. A tall man standing in the doorway raised a hand, signaling to Alexander. He turned to her.
