To Write a Wrong

by Jen Turano

  “You didn’t offer to marry me,” Finetta said, her color high. “You told me I was going to marry you.”

  Daphne gave a bit of a shudder, rubbing her arms, which had Herman moving closer to her.

  “Are you cold?”

  “More a case of remembering how I felt when Thomas told me I was going to marry him instead of him asking me,” Daphne said. “But I’m fine, thank you.”

  Herman opened his mouth, but before he could point out that Daphne didn’t exactly look fine because her cheeks were a shade paler than they’d been just seconds before, Finetta blew out a breath of clear disgust.

  “And not only did you tell me I was going to marry you, Irwin, you then told me I should be thankful you were still willing to make such an offer after I shot Daphne. When I refused, you threatened to spill my secret unless I changed my mind, which is, in fact, blackmail.”

  “I disagree,” Irwin countered. “I was merely pointing out that having such a troubling secret would burden you for the rest of your life. If you married me, there would be no need for that secret to ever come to light.”

  “It has come to light,” Finetta pointed out. She nodded to Daphne. “You seem to have a level head on your shoulders. Tell me this, if you were in my position now, how would you proceed?”

  Daphne readjusted her spectacles. “I’d tell Irwin that he’s to have nothing further to do with you. I’d also demand he tell you if he might have, perhaps, gone out on his own—on your behalf, of course—to discourage Herman from courting you.”

  Right there, in the middle of a meadow, of all places, Herman found himself completely enthralled with the unique lady looking as if she’d recently almost suffered a drowning, which she had.

  That Daphne, even under the most unusual of circumstances, was able to sort through pieces of the puzzle that made up his case and present it in a way that seemed effortless as she tried to get answers concerning his situation left him beyond impressed, as well as a bit awed over what was undoubtedly a very intellectual mind.

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re suggesting,” Finetta said, drawing Herman from his thoughts.

  “I’m suggesting that Irwin could be responsible for the four near-accidents that Herman suffered not that long ago, when he was in his carriage,” Daphne returned.

  Finetta raised a hand to her throat as everyone turned their attention to Irwin, who was rather red in the face.

  “Please tell me Daphne’s wrong,” Finetta whispered.

  “It wasn’t an attack by carriage. I was merely hoping to scare him, which I then hoped would have his grandmother insisting on canceling the house party, which would then allow you to avoid Herman’s attention.” Irwin pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dashed it over his forehead. “I was only looking after your best interests, and since no one was injured, I don’t believe there’s any need to make a fuss over what was just a bit of mischief on my part.”

  “Were you responsible for sneaking through the hidden passageways at Herman’s New York residence?” Daphne shot at him next.

  “Why would I do something like that?” Irwin demanded. “That’s trespassing, which is against the law.”

  “So is trying to run a man over with a carriage,” Daphne pointed out.

  “But I didn’t run him over, so no harm was done.”

  “I’m sure Herman feels differently,” Cooper said before he turned to Herman. “It may be best if I take Irwin in for further questioning. He’s admitted to being behind the carriage attacks, which is, as Daphne mentioned, against the law. I can use the police building in Hyde Park, which isn’t far from here. We often assist the police with different cases, so it won’t be an issue if I ask to use one of their interrogation rooms.”

  Irwin began backing away from everyone. “I’m not going to be treated like a common criminal, and I certainly won’t agree to visit an interrogation room. I’ve already admitted what I’ve done.”

  “I’m not certain you have admitted everything you’ve done,” Cooper countered. “We’ve yet to discuss the matter of the boat.”

  “What boat?” Irwin demanded.

  “The boat that just sank with Herman and Daphne in it.”

  Irwin’s gaze swept over Daphne, then moved to sweep over Herman. “Now that you mention it, they do seem unusually wet. But I had nothing to do with that.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Cooper said.

  “No, no it doesn’t,” Irwin argued before he jerked his head in Andrew’s direction. “If you ask me, Mr. Ware is the one you should be questioning because he would have the most to gain from Herman’s demise. With Herman dead, he could pursue Finetta freely, not bothered by the guilt he must be feeling over mooning over a lady everyone knows Herman was supposed to marry.”

  “I would never even consider murdering Herman,” Andrew said, catching Herman’s eye. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Herman said. “Although you probably should have mentioned your affection for Finetta to me. Might have spared us a bit of drama.”

  Andrew blew out a breath. “I was intending to tell you but thought it would be best to wait until after the house party. Proclaiming that I’m in love with Finetta would have created all sorts of drama, especially with your grandmother and Finetta’s grandmother.”

  “You’re in love with me?” Finetta breathed, raising a hand to her throat.

  Andrew was by her side in an instant, taking her other hand in his before they both began gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes, quite as if they didn’t have an audience watching them.

  “This is definitely going to have to go into one of my, ah, poems someday,” Daphne muttered.

  Herman grinned, but before he could respond to that, a loud thud drew his attention—a thud that was a direct result of Irwin hitting Cooper over the head with a large limb before bolting into the forest.

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to think we’re not going to be able to claim complete success with Herman’s case, no matter that we discovered Irwin was behind the carriage attacks.”

  Daphne stopped typing the notes pertaining to Herman’s case and sent a nod to Ann, who was standing on the other side of the small table Daphne was using underneath a shade tree. “Since Irwin did elude capture by jumping on the horse he’d taken from Herman’s stables, I’m afraid I have to agree with you. But with local police and the Pinkertons actively searching for him because he attacked Cooper and technically stole one of Herman’s horses, he’ll eventually be found. He seems unusually good at hiding, though, given that he’s not been seen since he attacked Cooper two days ago. That means we have no idea if he was telling the truth about the boating incident or sneaking around Herman’s secret passageways.”

  “I’m hoping Miss Martha Mulvey was right when she mentioned the rumors she’d heard regarding Irwin—that he’s a gambler who may be in debt to some questionable characters,” Ann said. “If proven true, it’s understandable why he involved himself in Finetta’s affairs. He’s evidently in desperate need of her fortune, which explains why he resorted to blackmail.”

  “It does suggest the man is capable of doing more than merely chasing Herman with a carriage. Still, until he’s found, we can’t let our guard down, nor can we discontinue our investigation in case there’s someone else out there determined to lay Herman low.”

  “It didn’t help our investigation when Finetta blurted out to the guests everything that happened after we finally managed to get back to the house.”

  Daphne wrinkled her nose. “That was unfortunate, but I imagine the poor lady simply couldn’t help herself since her nerves were frazzled. However, Finetta confessing what part she’d played in everything, along with Irwin’s duplicity, and then telling everyone Cooper was a Pinkerton definitely didn’t help the investigation.” Daphne blew out a breath. “I suppose the only positive we can take away from Finetta’s disclosure
was that she didn’t know we were hired by Herman as well. That, at least, has allowed us to continue at the house party as if I’m merely Herman’s secretary and you’re Mildred’s paid companion.”

  Ann shot a glance to Mildred, who was sitting with Dr. Gibbons, waiting to watch some of the gentlemen enjoy a few bouts of fencing, Herman being one of those gentlemen.

  Mildred, surprisingly enough, had not said much regarding the fact that Herman hadn’t told her about the attempts on his life, nor that he’d withheld Cooper’s true identity.

  Instead, after Finetta finished spilling the beans regarding her involvement with Irwin and her scheme to avoid a continued association with Herman, Mildred had merely sent Herman a considering look before she’d become distracted by Mrs. Shoenburger’s descent into hysterics. Those hysterics had been a direct result of Finetta, after she’d confessed about her involvement with Irwin, declaring that she was in love with Andrew Ware.

  Complete chaos had descended over Herman’s house, so much so that Mrs. Shoenburger needed to borrow Mildred’s smelling salts before she’d called for their carriage and insisted they return with all due haste to the city. She was so distraught that Finetta had agreed, reluctantly of course, to depart to New York, telling Andrew they’d sort everything out after she got her grandmother settled down.

  As Finetta and Mrs. Shoenburger whisked away in their carriage, the other guests gathered around Herman, clamoring to learn every last detail about the attempts on his life.

  That clamoring had gone far to put a wrench in the investigation because everyone was now aware that a Pinkerton had been hired, one who, even though still recovering from a nasty gash on his head, remained in residence at Herman’s estate.

  “Mildred’s continuing to give poor Andrew the evil eye,” Ann said, turning back to Daphne. “She told me she blames him for all the young ladies and their mothers departing from the house party not long after Finetta and her grandmother left. According to Mildred, the mothers were worried their impressionable daughters might be unduly influenced by Finetta’s unlikely romance with Andrew. If you ask me, though, that was complete nonsense because Andrew, and perhaps Sheldon, are the only gentlemen in attendance who aren’t well-established or dripping in funds. And because Sheldon has obviously set his eye on Martha Mulvey, I’m not sure what all the fuss was about.”

  “I believe some of the mothers were concerned their daughters would set an interested eye on Cooper, especially since he has been looking rather roguish after Irwin’s attack. There does seem to be something about a dangerous and handsome rogue that many ladies can’t ignore.”

  Ann drew herself up. “I never considered that the young ladies might settle an interested eye on Cooper. Although, hearing that, I don’t believe I’m upset in the least that the mothers and their daughters made hasty departures.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in Cooper.”

  “Not that I’m admitting I’m interested in the man, but it’s not difficult to see how adorable Cooper is, as well as not notice how remarkably competent he is at his profession. Competent men have always held a special place in my heart, as have adorable men—not that I’m saying Cooper has a special place in my heart, mind you,” Ann hurried to add.

  Daphne glanced to where Cooper was currently lounging in a chair, pulled close to where the men were getting ready to fence. “I’m not sure adorable is how I would currently describe Cooper. He does have a large swathe of bandages wrapped around his head and his eyes are ringed with bruises.”

  Ann directed her attention to Cooper as well, her cheeks turning pink when Cooper sent her a wave. She spun around and began fanning her face with the Montague Moreland book she was holding. “There really is something compelling about a gentleman who has the look of a rogue about him.”

  “And that right there is why you should stop insisting he hasn’t stolen at least a piece of your heart.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, just as soon as you stop denying you only view Herman as a client.”

  “He is a client.”

  Ann rolled her eyes. “You’re being deliberately obtuse, but since you evidently don’t care to discuss your feelings for Herman, and I don’t care to spend the next few minutes trying to drag confessions out of you, shall we return to talk of our case?”

  “Since our case is why we’re still on the Hudson, that would be for the best. However, just so you know, I have nothing to confess, which means end of story in regard to Herman and me.”

  Ann’s only response to that was another rather telling roll of the eyes.

  Electing to ignore that because anything she might add would only have Ann more convinced that there was something besides a working relationship between herself and Herman—not that Daphne was completely opposed to that idea, if only she thought Herman would be receptive to it, which she was certain he wasn’t—Daphne returned to her notes.

  “Did I mention that Herman’s now including me in the literary chats he’s been holding with his fellow authors?”

  “You did, and not that I want to gloat, but there was a distinct twinkle in your eye when you mentioned you’d been included, a twinkle I believe was there because being a part of the literary chats allows you to spend more time in Herman’s company.”

  Daphne’s lips curved. “You certainly are relentless when you get a bee in your bonnet. I’m sure, though, that the twinkle you saw was simply a result of my looking forward to the literary chats. My inclusion will allow me to get to know the authors better, as well as give me an opportunity to charm them so they’ll begin letting their guards down around me and hopefully disclosing something useful in the process.”

  “It would be helpful if one of them would disclose they harbor resentment toward Herman, perhaps because he’s more successful, or a better storyteller, or . . .” Ann’s voice trailed off, the reason behind that evident when Jay Storrow strolled up to join them.

  He stopped beside Ann and nodded to the Montague Moreland book she was still holding. “Thinking about continuing on with Moreland’s story?”

  “Seems somewhat pointless now that the captive audience I was reading to is no longer here.”

  Jay looked to where Miss Martha Mulvey was helping Sheldon arrange the protective padding that was needed for the fencing bout. “Miss Mulvey is still here. She was enjoying the story.”

  “True,” Ann said. “But she’s the only young lady still in attendance, an unusual circumstance to be sure. It was shocking when Mrs. Shoenburger terminated her employment because she believed that Martha must have known about Finetta’s affections for Andrew and never disclosed what she knew to Mrs. Shoenburger.”

  “If you ask me,” Daphne said, “it was quite unfair of Mrs. Shoenburger to terminate Martha’s employment, not to mention unfair that she refused to allow Martha to travel with them back to the city. Martha hasn’t given any indication she knew about Finetta’s love for Andrew, and leaving the poor lady behind was not well done of Finetta’s grandmother.”

  “I wouldn’t fret about that, Daphne,” Jay said. “Martha has not made it a secret she’s fond of Sheldon, nor has she seemed overly distressed about being left behind. She also seems to be lending a great deal of comfort to Mildred, who cannot be pleased about how her house party has turned out. Frankly, I’ve been expecting Mildred to repair to her bedchamber with her smelling salts in hand, given that all the ladies she was hoping might become Mrs. Herman Henderson have now fled from the estate.”

  “One would think that would be the case, but I’ve not seen Mildred take even a whiff of her salts,” Daphne said.

  “That’s because she’s too busy keeping an eye on Herman—and you,” Ann muttered under her breath right as Charles Bonner walked up to join them.

  It was rather telling when Ann immediately slipped away without another word as Charles stepped up to Daphne’s makeshift desk and began peering at one of the pages Daphne had typed earlier for Herman. Picking up the notepad where she’d jot
ted down notes concerning her pirate scene, she placed it on top of the pages she’d typed for Herman.

  “What a completely unnecessary move to keep me from getting a glimpse at Herman’s work,” Charles said with a sniff.

  Daphne forced a smile. “Forgive me if I offended you, Charles, but Herman doesn’t allow anyone to see his work in progress.”

  “He’s clearly allowing you to see his latest work.”

  “I’m his secretary. It would be difficult for me to type up his chapters if I didn’t actually get to see them.”

  “Hmmm. . . . I imagine that would be problematic.”

  Wondering how in the world a man who seemed to be less than quick-witted was capable of penning novels that sold remarkably well, Daphne pulled the paper filled with the notes she’d been typing about Herman’s case from her typewriter, slipped the paper as discreetly as she could into a folder, then slid the folder underneath her notepad.

  To her annoyance, Charles leaned over the table to peer at the notes in her notepad.

  “That doesn’t look like Herman’s handwriting,” he said.

  “That’s because it’s mine.”

  Charles sent her a hint of a smile before he picked up her notepad and had the audacity to begin reading through her notes. “Interesting. It appears as if you weren’t fibbing about that pirate nonsense.”

  “Why would you have thought I was lying about my pirate?”

  Charles shrugged. “It seemed like an unlikely hero to me for a poem, however . . .” He set the notepad down on the table, reached for Daphne’s pencil, then began adding notes of his own to her page.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I just had a few thoughts that should make your pirate idea plausible. I’m listing some character attributes you’ll find useful, and I think it’ll be helpful if you include a romance thread. You should also give your pirate a sensitive nature, which will go far in impressing your heroine.” He stopped writing and lifted his head. “I’m not actually partial to poetry, finding it . . . what is that word you seem to enjoy using? Oh yes, trite. But I understand how to create the perfect hero, and you might be on to something with using a pirate in that role, even if that is quite unconventional.”