Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1)

by Jessica Keller

  Maybe Aunt Louisa’s cook knew how to make snickerdoodles.

  When they reached the first signs of the business district, James waved down a cab and hired the man to drive them to the north end of the city where her aunt and uncle lived. He settled her on the bench, then took a seat with a long sigh.

  The driver grunted, and his team of unmatched nags plodded forward.

  After a moment, Ellen broke the night’s stillness with a whisper. “I can’t believe Lewis would have hurt me.”

  James crossed and uncrossed his arms. “Do you now understand the danger? You could have been seriously hurt tonight because of following me. You can’t do foolish things like that anymore. You need to use that brain the good Lord’s given you.” James ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “In fact, we shouldn’t even be friends any longer. They would hurt you to get to me.”

  Ellen reached across the space between them, resting her hand on his forearm. “But I wanted to be with you, James. I wanted to see what you were doing. I’ll always follow you.”

  In an uncharacteristically James move he brushed her hand away. “Well, I don’t want you around me anymore.” He turned to look out the window. His jaw muscle flexed.

  Tired and sore body forgotten, Ellen snapped to attention. James not want her? Inconceivable. “You’re angry. Sleep on it.”

  “I’m serious.” James stared at the ceiling.

  She inched forward on her seat, knees pressing against his. “But what about the other day? Remember … you kissed me.”

  With a pained slowness he faced her, a hollow look in his green eyes. “Move on, Ellen. It was all a big mistake.”

  Blurriness framed her sight and Ellen’s pulse echoed in her ears. “You don’t mean that.”

  James inched away from her. “I do. Very much so.”

  “No.” She scooted across the carriage to his bench. When she reached for him, he jumped from her touch like it might burn him. Tears came then. “When they had me tied up in that room, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re the man I want to be with for the rest of my life.”

  Closing his eyes, James scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not possible.”

  “But you love me. I know you do.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want you.”

  As the carriage swayed like a raft lost at sea the sights shifted from storefronts to modest homes. In less than ten minutes, they’d enter her aunt’s neighborhood. Lavish townhomes would clutter the view. A slight wind outside barely rustled the new spring leaves on the young trees.

  An ache started under her ribs and spread outward, making her brain numb. But of course James had to be bluffing, right?

  The old jealousy test would do the trick. “I’m seeing Carter Hurst tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  Still wearing James’s jacket, she drew it tightly around her. The comforting spice-and-oranges smell of James flooded her senses. “You don’t care if he pursues me?”

  “Not one bit.” His voice sounded stale. “In fact, I promise to buy you a large wedding present.”

  His words were so flippant, so un-James-like.

  Ellen fisted her hands. “After Grace died, Lewis wanted nothing to do with me, and now that Lewis is out of the equation, you want nothing to do with me, either. Is that how it is?”

  “Let it go, Ellen.”

  “But—”

  “I’m done talking.” James flipped his collar up as if to protect against a chill. Then he hunkered into the seat and closed his eyes.

  Fighting the urge to open the door and run away, Ellen crossed her arms. Doing so would keep her from slugging James, too—which every muscle in her fists burned to do.

  Oh, why did the Danbys live so far away? Sitting beside James proved to be torture. She wanted to get to her room, hug her pillow, and have a nice long cry. That, and sort out what to do with her life now. Hadn’t she been dreaming of a future with James only an hour ago? Now she didn’t know.

  She bit her lip. No one she loved wanted her.

  Not a single one of them.

  Not her mother, Lewis, the Danbys, or James. If only she’d been more agreeable, meeker, and followed Madame De Molineus’s instructions during her school days instead of reading dime novels hidden behind her textbooks in class.

  Would they love her now if she’d obeyed all the rules? Would they want her if she’d formed herself into a copy of every other girl her age?

  Too late. Someone should have told her that being herself would drive her family away and would rob her of the only man she’d ever love.

  At least with Carter Hurst she would know not to make the same mistakes. She’d be the person society dictated she should be. Then James would see who she could have been, who he could have had. And he’d be sorry.

  Ellen jiggled her foot and braced herself when the carriage swayed as the driver took a corner at a fast clip. It seemed even he wanted to be rid of her in a hurry.

  Perhaps she never really cared about James. Not really. He’d always been more brooding older brother than gentle romancer. He certainly wasn’t like the heroes in the dime novels. Maybe he was simply a good kisser. And, oh, the man could kiss. The thought of their one stolen moment made heat crawl up the back of her neck.

  His practiced moves had duped her. Moves he’d probably perfected on the likes of Priscilla Conti, among other women during his collegiate days. Really, the man was a bother. Not just a skunk, but a super skunk. He’d tricked her and toyed with her and tossed her aside. James could go ahead and crawl right back to the gypsy-eyed Prissy for all Ellen cared.

  Even if it wasn’t true, it felt good to think all that.

  She peeked over at him. Stress lines marred the skin around his closed eyes, and her heart squeezed.

  Besides, Carter could be taught to kiss better. All she and he required was some practice together.

  When the carriage came to a lurching stop behind her aunt’s address, Ellen didn’t wait for James to help her down. Before he opened his eyes, she bolted out of the cab and ran to the servant’s entrance. Fumbling through the dark kitchen, she succeeded in banging her left elbow, her hip, and both knees on shadowed objects. The whole scene produced loud exclamations and no small amount of racket.

  Hands splayed like a blind woman, she pushed the door open to the main area of the house. Lamps still burned in the hallway. Odd. She couldn’t imagine why someone would still be awake.

  A mirror tossed her reflection back in her face. Mud clear to her knees, swollen red marks around her wrists, tear stains on her cheeks, and holes ripped in her dress. If she saw someone who looked like her begging near the storefronts, she would have tossed a couple coins in their cup. How would she scrub up and hide the evidence without rousing anyone?

  But the sound of a charging buffalo—otherwise known as Uncle Garret—snapped her from her thoughts.

  He barreled down the hall, eyes trained on her. His chin waggled in time with his steps. “Where in tarnation have you been?”

  “Uncle Garret, what are you doing awake at this hour?” She tried to tuck the loose hair back into the bun under her mobcap.

  “I could ask you the same question.” He came to a stop a foot from her and heaved to catch his breath. “I demand to know where you have been.”

  None of her options for answers—a tavern, the vice-district, the bubbly branch of the river, or an anarchist meeting—seemed appropriate to quell her uncle’s flared nostrils.

  “Uncle.” Ellen laid a hand on his arm. “I think you are unwell. Let’s speak in the morning.”

  She attempted to brush past him, but he seized her arm and wrenched her back in front of him. “This is my house and we do things by my schedule.” He released her.

  Ellen rubbed her arm.

  “Now,” he began again, his voice calmer, “tell me why, when I sent the maid to fetch you hours ago, she came back telling me that you were not in your bed.”

  “You sent for me?” />
  “Your aunt is unwell and wished for your company.”

  “I’ll go to her now.” Ellen tried to get around him again, but he stepped in her way.

  “Not so fast. You will tell me whom you’ve been gallivanting with.”

  What could be wrong with Aunt Louisa? “With James. I was with James.”

  Just then a very James-sounding ouch came from the kitchen.

  A growl rumbled from Uncle Garrett’s chest, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ll kill him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Chicago, April 30, 1886

  James rubbed his knee, muttering. How many times could the fool thing get bashed in one night?

  By all accounts, he deserved the ache in his neck and back, and the hot pain blistering through his shoulders. But that’s not what hurt the worst … Ellen would never look at him the same. Not after tonight.

  I don’t want you.

  Utter rubbish.

  He wanted her all right … wanted her to have a full and safe future, even if that meant losing her. If anything ever happened to her, that pain would hurt more than lying to her had.

  With little energy left to even drag his feet, James pushed through the kitchen door only to be met by a shocked Ellen and her fuming uncle.

  “Mr. Danby.” James inclined his head, although he knew the gesture would garner him very few points at such an hour in the morning.

  Mr. Danby surged forward. “What have you done to my niece?” In a flash, he hauled James against the wall by the front of his shirt. The old man’s second chin grew red as he shook.

  James’s feet dangled a few inches above the floor. Who knew the old man had the strength?

  “Uncle, no!” Ellen slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes bulging.

  Mr. Danby clamped his brawny fingers around James’s throat, blocking his airway. “You impertinent little prig.”

  James attempted to shove Mr. Danby’s hand away, gulping for breath. His head spun and heat seared his lungs.

  Ellen yanked on her uncle’s arm. “Stop! You’ll kill him.”

  Mr. Danby dropped his hold and straightened his jacket. “Fool girl. That’s precisely my intent. Go to your room, I’ll deal with you later.”

  James slumped to the ground, rubbing his neck and gasping for air.

  Fisting her hands, Ellen stepped between her uncle and James. “I will not.”

  “This man—” Mr. Danby pointed at James and James had enough intellect to flinch—“takes you out of the home of your relations in the middle of the night without our knowledge. He returns you in a state of complete duress, wearing a getup that I can only assume was for his ill gain in some manner, and you want me to pretend it didn’t happen?”

  Ellen held her palms toward her uncle. “But it’s not like that at all. James holds no fault. I followed him. He didn’t invite me, and he didn’t want me along on his journey tonight. I’m to blame. If you want to wring someone’s neck, then it should be mine.”

  “Step aside, Ellen.” Her uncle shoved her out of the way. “The blame falls on him. A ruined reputation always falls on a man.”

  Ellen crossed her arms. “But I—”

  Neck still stinging, James found his feet and used the wall to stand. “Your uncle is right. Any fault falls squarely on me. I’ll accept whatever punishment he sees fit.” Hopefully Mr. Danby was done with wanting to kill him….

  Mr. Danby jutted his finger, thumping James in the chest. “Then here and now, choose your course. You can announce an engagement to Ellen tomorrow morning—if you do so, we’ll forget about this lapse in your judgment and welcome you into the family—or leave this instant and never see her again.”

  James’s heart beat a death march.

  He looked at Ellen, drinking in the sight of her. Her pink cheeks and long lashes, her softness and raven hair—he memorized every detail. Even after everything she’d been through tonight, she was still the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. More than that, her teasing tempered him. And he loved the honest, open way she asked him questions she’d never voice to anyone else.

  Marry her? Did dreams really come true so easily?

  He shot out a long breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

  No. He couldn’t drag her into any more danger. He had to crack the spy ring in order to keep her safe. Having her tagging along would slow him down and make her an easy target. That, and if someone discovered he was a member of the Cygnus Brotherhood, they could capture Ellen and threaten her to get at him.

  Two weeks ago he’d have kissed Mr. Danby for offering such a chance at happiness, but his situation had changed—very much so. James needed to finish what he started in the carriage.

  He bowed his head, not meeting Ellen’s gaze. “Then if you will excuse me, I must go ready my bags.”

  Mr. Danby’s eyebrows ratcheted to the top of his forehead, but he said nothing.

  As James walked down the hall, Ellen’s voice followed, clouded with tears as she whispered his name.

  But his decision was for the best. She’d understand one day.

  He hoped he could.

  Within minutes, he’d shoved his belongings into his trunk and changed into fresh clothes. A bath would have been nice, but it would have to wait until he found somewhere else to stay at such a late hour.

  When he lugged his trunk down the stairs, no one wished him goodbye. The Danbys’ butler, looking terse and groggy, ushered James out. He pointed James to the Danbys’ carriage. Ellen’s uncle had spared no time waking the staff and forcing them to deal with their now unwanted guest.

  A driver with sleep still in his eyes secured James’s trunk to the back of the rig, then turned to address him. “Where am I taking you, Mr. Kent?”

  Where could he go?

  In the last few weeks he’d lost his best friend, the girl he loved, and entrance to Ingram House. That left his parents. But they were touring Europe at present and held few ties in Chicago. None of which he could descend upon at four in the morning with good graces.

  James grabbed the door and hauled himself up the steps of the carriage. “Drive me to Hugh Gunther’s residence. I believe his home’s on Calumet Avenue.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a flick of the reins they were off, leaving his heart in their wake.

  He glanced back at the Danby mansion, selfishly hoping to see Ellen waving or sending a wink his way from one of the windows. But all the curtains remained still.

  ***

  “You didn’t let me see him.” Ellen pounded the great hulk of her uncle’s chest with her tiny fists. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

  He grabbed her wrists. “Settle down, girl. It’s for the best. Any man that reckless isn’t worth shedding tears about.”

  James hadn’t sought her out. Hadn’t offered a word of explanation. Hadn’t wanted her.

  Fatigue tinged her muscles. Ellen leaned against a side table for balance. “James isn’t reckless. He’s the complete opposite. He’s slow and over thinks all his decisions. Sometimes he calculates a choice to such a degree that his friends are left to force his hand. He is everything good and upstanding Uncle, and now—thanks to you—I don’t know when I’ll see him again.”

  Uncle Garrett’s lips pulled into a snarl. “If I have my way, never! Oh, stop trembling your bottom lip. I’m sure you’ll be forced to see him in society, but I never want the two of you alone again. Do you hear me? As long as you are under my roof, you will obey that order.”

  He extended his hand, taking hers gently for the first time that day. “Now, go to your room. I’ve sent the maid to make you a bath. Become presentable and snatch a few hours of sleep. I’ll send for you at eight. By that time I want you smiling for your aunt. I won’t tell her about your escapade tonight. Louisa’s had too much stress today already.” Lamplight danced across his face, and deep lines stretched across his forehead, making the skin below his eyes sagged.

  “What is the matter with my aunt?”

  “I’l
l allow her to explain. I’m worried about her.” Uncle Garrett released her hand and paced the hall, gripping his chin. “She had an episode last night and she wanted you. She’s so upset. I’m not keen on seeing her like that.”

  As he walked, he yanked at the back of his hair, and his shoulders looked rigid as if bearing a heavy burden. But could an adulterer love his wife?

  Ellen leaned against the wall and pulled the mobcap off her head. “You are anxious about my aunt? You care about her enough to stay up all night?”

  Uncle Garrett faced her, his hands out in surrender. “Of course I care about her wellbeing. She is my wife.”

  “I’ve heard not all men do.” She twisted the hat in her hands.

  “Well, I am not all men. Louisa and I have lived a fulfilling life together. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I heard someone mention that sometimes the rich don’t marry for love.” Knowing her face could betray her, Ellen kept her eyes trained to the floor.

  “The first time I saw your aunt I said to myself, I’ll marry that woman someday. We were both at the Wheaton harness racing track enjoying a summer afternoon. I watched her all day. For being middle-class, she held her umbrella with such dignity, I knew instantly she’d make it among the Chicago elite with minimal training. By midday I worked up the courage to offer for her and your mother to have a private introduction to the horses and the jockeys. Louisa’s been at my side ever since.”

  Ellen’s head reeled. She couldn’t make her uncle’s speech make sense with the information her aunt had shared. At least, not on so little sleep. “I’m tired, I think I’ll retire. I’ll sit with my aunt after sunrise.”

  Upon entering her bedroom, her body ached to curl up in a ball in the center of her bed and have a good cry. But a basin of perfumed water beckoned, and after catching a whiff of her soiled clothes, bathing won out over sleep. Besides, the hot water might sooth her throbbing ankle. She peeled off the dress and stepped into the tub, letting the liquid work its warm magic.

  Then she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.