“Why’s that? It seems to me that would be rather perfect.”
“If you aren’t afraid, you aren’t careful,” he said simply. “In this job, we need to be careful more than anything else. You can be afraid or uneasy or whatever else you’re feeling. The only question you really need to answer is can you go forward in spite of it all?”
Diana gave him the respect of considering the question thoughtfully, then nodded once. “I think so, yes.”
His crooked grin appeared, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I know so. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be on this train with me right now. And you certainly wouldn’t have married me. I’m a charming fellow, but no one would marry me for that alone within five minutes of meeting me. Not even I am that charming.”
She rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Absolutely not. Now go away, I need to rest.”
He laughed and saluted as perfectly as any soldier. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring you supper in a bit, should be just before we change trains. Sleep well.”
Diana smiled as he closed the compartment door behind him, shaking her head.
Married for the mission or not, it was entirely possible that she had the most perfect pretend husband she could have hoped for.
One could only hope he was equally as perfect a partner and agent.
After taking her rest, which was fitful at best, Diana quickly finished the letter of lies to her mother, dutifully ignoring the twinges of guilt that flared within her at it. She was to post the letter, and all others, to the headquarters in Denver, although how Archie was going to make it appear as though the letter came from London she could not possibly imagine.
Wyatt, ever the dutiful husband, had dinner brought into her, and the pair of them ate without much conversation, which she did not mind. Now they were well on their way to their assignment, she felt the weight of it all upon her. She had never done anything especially brave or bold, unless traipsing off to Denver to marry a man in order to become a Pinkerton agent counted, and certainly had never done anything where her life had been at risk. Or the lives of others.
She wasn’t sure which of the two she feared more.
Despite Wyatt’s words to her earlier, she did not feel any comfort in being afraid, nor did she think that it would help her in any way. She would be careful, naturally, but in being afraid, surely she was more likely to be overcautious and thus fail in her efforts.
None of her training had truly prepared her for this. Yes, she had worked in firearm training, in decryption, in espionage, in the basics of fighting, but no one had said a word about controlling one’s emotions.
Perhaps this was the drawback to being a woman in such a profession. The emotions of a feminine heart were so potent and varied, and far too complicated for easy dealings.
Her thoughts were broken by the train coming to a stop, and she jerked slightly to stare at Wyatt, confused slightly about what the next step was, though she knew they had only just discussed it.
He gave her what could only be considered a placating smile. “Indianapolis. We change trains.”
Diana nodded once and reached for her hat, quickly setting it on her head and pinning it in place. She looked at Wyatt with a raised brow. “Good enough?”
“Perfect,” he said at once, amused by something. He picked up a carpetbag nearby and offered his arm to her. “Shall we, Mrs. McGrath?”
She rose with all of the grace she had been trained to possess, and took his arm. “We shall, Mr. McGrath.”
He nodded, then led her out of the compartment and off the train, apparently having already arranged for their luggage to be transferred to their second train.
Diana hadn’t known what to expect from Indianapolis, having been accustomed to Baltimore and all of the finer cities in the east. Denver had been a small enough city in the west that it had been fascinating to her, and she knew instinctively that it would grow and flourish where it was, but in a state like Indiana… Well, there wasn’t much there, was there? Fields and fields of wheat and corn, farms as far as the eye could see, and without any of the bustle of one of the cities with which she was familiar.
Yet as she looked around the platform and took in the surrounding areas, the echoes of a major city pleasantly surprised her. It would never be as grand as Chicago or New York, but neither was it as sleepy as her admittedly prejudiced and uninformed imagination had feared. And, she was pleased to note, its people seemed remarkably friendly and warm, which was a significant improvement from the grand cities she knew better.
There wasn’t much to recommend the class system to her, or to anyone, and this not-so-sleepy place proved that in a moment.
A child on her mother’s arm caught Diana looking and beamed, waving with such exuberance her hair ribbons danced in the breeze. Diana giggled and waved back, delighted that the child’s mother did not shush her, as so many others would have, but smiled as well and inclined her head in Diana’s direction.
What a place this was!
They approached the new train and Wyatt handed their tickets to the uniformed man standing near the passenger cars. He looked over them quickly, his ill-advised moustache twitching slightly. Then he raised his eyes and smiled broadly at the pair of them. “Mr. and Mrs. Bricker, welcome. Please, allow me to escort you to your reserved compartments.”
Wyatt inclined his head, tapping the brim of his hat with one finger. “Thank you, my man,” he drawled, an exaggerated but natural sounding Texan accent rolling forth. “Mighty kind of you.”
“Ah, do I detect a Texan, sir?” the man asked as he helped them aboard, glancing over his shoulder at them.
“That you do, sir,” Wyatt replied, looking appropriately sheepish. “I am afraid it does tend to give me away every time, as my dear wife likes to remind me, don’t you, Diana?”
Diana favored him with a droll side-eye even as she smiled in her part as the indulgent wife. “It is one of your more obvious charms, my dear, I will not deny it.”
Her soft attempt at the accent made him smile, and he gave her a half wink that encouraged her more than anything she’d experienced yet. “She says charm with such delight, does she not?”
“Indeed, sir,” the man laughed as he waved them forward. “Rather the way my own wife tells me how well I listen.”
Diana covered her mouth to stifle a giggle only to feel a brief nudge in her side, courtesy of her husband’s elbow. She returned the jab sharply and heard a rather satisfying wheeze of a laugh in response.
“And here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Bricker,” their guide said, turning to face them and indicating their compartment. “We pride ourselves here on maintaining the classic European style of compartments for your privacy rather than leaning towards the open rows of seating so many other companies are starting to encourage. Elegant and refined passengers of your station deserve the very best, don’t you agree?”
“I certainly do.” Wyatt reached into his jacket and pulled out several bills, flicking through them slowly.
Diana watched their guide’s eyes widen, and hid a grin when Wyatt took three out of the stack and handed them over.
“Thank you, Mr. Bricker, sir,” the man stammered with enthusiasm. “Very generous, sir.”
Wyatt tipped his hat. “My pleasure, naturally.” He stepped back to let Diana lead the way into the compartment, then followed, shutting the door pointedly behind him.
He turned and pressed his back to the door, his blue eyes bright with restrained laughter.
Diana burst out laughing, Wyatt only shortly behind her, and she pulled the pin out of her hat, removing the monstrosity and shoving it into the shelves overhead. “What in the world possessed you to toss on that twang, Wyatt?”
“No idea,” he chirped as he took off his own hat and tossed it onto the seat before sitting himself and setting the carpet bag on the floor. “It just sort of came out. Reminded me of my uncle Hal, come to think of it.”
“What a charmer he must be.”
She reached up to unfasten the top button of her blouse, sighing with relief when she no longer felt strangled by starch. She scratched absently at her pinned up coif, then patted it with another more longsuffering sigh.
Despite her early reluctance about donning simpler clothing and styles, she would enjoy the more relaxed nature of hair expectations, given the alternative.
She sank onto the leather bound seat and leaned her head back against the wood paneling.
“Tired?”
She cracked open an eye and peered over at Wyatt. “Yes. Aren’t you?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Some. The train doesn’t leave for an hour or more, and there are a few stops along the way. We won’t make it to New Albany until morning, so there will be plenty of time to sleep.”
Diana groaned and propped her feet on the bench across from her, beside Wyatt. “When we get there, I don’t want to get on another train for a very long time, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, dear.”
She snickered and rolled her head to look at him almost squarely. “Are we the Brickers from here on out?”
Wyatt shook his head, relaxing against the seats finally. “Probably not. There’s a mighty fine second-class passenger car just down the way that we’ll move to at one of the other stops. It would scandalize our poor steward to see us in attire less fine than our current fashions, don’t you think?”
Diana nodded towards the carpetbag. “Is that what’s in there? Our new costumes?”
“Curious, are you?” He chuckled and folded his arms, the crooked smile reappearing. “Miss Hates Baltimore Airs actually has a taste for fashion, does she?”
“Just wondering where I can stash my gun,” she shot back. “Fine fashion skirts have loads of options, but it might be harder in simpler clothing.”
Wyatt coughed in surprise, his eyes widening. “You… you have a gun? On you?”
Diana raised a brow. “Yes.”
Wyatt’s eyes scanned her at rapid speed. “Currently?”
She felt her lips curve. “Yes. Of course.”
“Of course, she says,” he murmured to himself, running his hands through his hair. He exhaled, then met her eyes again, his mouth forming a tight line. “Where did you get a gun, Diana?”
“From Archie, of course. Or Marianne, at least. All the girls got one.”
“Heaven help us all,” Wyatt muttered under his breath. “When we get settled, remind me to teach you how to use it. And don’t take it out of wherever it is until then. Got it?”
His flustered manner bemused her, but she wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to be dictated to before things got under way. “Wyatt…”
“You promised.”
Curses. So she had.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her ankles on the seat. “Fair enough. The gun will stay where it is. Not particularly comfortable, but I’m getting used to it.”
As she expected, his eyes trailed over her again, this time with the expert assessment of the agent he was. “Where is it?”
Diana pulled a few pins out of her hair, letting the dark hair down at least partially, far more comfortable for her currently aching scalp, and smirked at her husband as she tucked the pins into the waistband of her skirt. “That, my dear husband, is for me to know. And for you to find out, if the need arises.”
And with that, she closed her eyes, exhaled deeply, and did her best to fall asleep on a train that was not yet in motion.
Or pretend at it, at least.
Chapter 2
He’d never been more frightened of a woman in his entire life.
He’d never been frightened of any woman in his entire life either, come to think of it. But Diana Gleason terrified him.
Diana Gleason McGrath, he reminded himself.
Which was even more terrifying.
His mother would have shot him where he stood if she knew he had married without her consent or presence, but as it was part of an assignment and not an actual marriage, his life should be spared.
Of course, the marriage was real, in all legal respects, and Diana was his wife, so he would treat her as such.
Sort of.
He had known about the marriage arrangements with the female trainees from the earliest days Archie had concocted the plan, harebrained as it was, and had argued against it with the sort of rage he hadn’t known in years. Enough that he’d actually… well, he’d lost his temper with Archie, and received a fitting rebuke for his actions. It was just that this line of work wasn’t the sort of thing that ladies should be involved in. Far too dangerous most of the time, and there was no telling when an assignment would change into a dangerous one even if it did not seem so from the start.
It wasn’t about the fact that these women were female. He wasn’t opposed to that at all. He’d known some intrepid women in his life, and they would certainly be capable enough as agents, danger aside, but men behaved differently when women were about. There was no telling what the very capable Pinkerton agent men would do, or how they would behave, react, or proceed, if paired with women.
He’d received notes on his partner-to-be before the wedding, but there hadn’t been much in there to go on. He knew she was intelligent, quite remarkably so, and had skills enough that Archie had thought her suitable for the dangers involved, but he couldn’t be sure what that meant. He had seen her application, but what could a Baltimore high society miss do that any other capable woman with a better history than boredom with their station could not?
And why in the world had such a woman, inexperienced and naïve as she was, been partnered with him? He was a rough and tumble Texan with a dossier that could fill a novel. He’d been a soldier, but in a very different war than anyone knew, and had taken on more missions than he probably ought to have just for the sake of it. His missions had become his reason for living, in a way. What drove him in life.
Among other things.
He’d questioned the choice of her until the very moment he’d walked into the room where they would all be married en masse and come face to face with her.
Then he’d questioned the whole idea for a very different reason.
Diana Gleason was tall, majestic, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. And there was no way in hell he could be partnered with her, in marriage or on a mission.
Not if he wanted to escape either with sanity.
She’d stood there, staring at him with eyes a shade he’d never seen before, and then smiled wryly. “Ah, my husband, I presume. My mother has been wondering where you’ve been all my life.”
Instantly, the wit had put him at ease and made him grin, which, naturally, had heightened his panic despite the warmth and pleasure that had pervaded his frame.
“Apologies for the delay,” he’d replied with a half-bow, “and a pleasure to be here at last.”
They’d only had a moment to talk before the ceremony had begun, but it was enough to pique his interest. She’d proven herself in those few minutes to be more determined than he’d anticipated, unflustered by the matrimony itself, and, after hearing her demands before the vows, nearly as stubborn as he was.
Nearly.
Training with her for the month in Denver had been illuminating, but he had very carefully kept a polite distance. Had his partner been a man, he would have made more of an attempt to gain trust between them and to discover strengths, things that would ensure the entry into the assignment would be seamless. It was different with Diana. She was cleverer than any woman he’d known and, at least in training, had been fearless and willing to try anything he or Archie had asked.
The fact that he still did not know the whole of her bewildered him. He’d been an agent for years and prided himself on astute and accurate judgments of people in a short time. But Diana was as much of a mystery to him now as she had been the day he’d said I do.
And now, sitting here on this train, he watched her sleep, or attempt to, and the thoughts about her swirl
ed about him. The moment she’d let the lower half of her hair down, he’d been struck into a sort of dumb stupor he’d never experienced, which had only extended further when she had refused to tell him where her gun was.
Dressed as she was in a fine traveling ensemble, though the button at her throat was undone, she was an imposing sight, and had drawn many gazes as they had moved through the train and on the platform. But with half of her hair tumbled and curling around her shoulders, she became more human and somehow more lovely. She wasn’t flawless by classic standards. Her complexion was dotted with a few freckles that he found quite charming, and her height was certainly above the average, though she wore it well.
An Agent for Diana (The Pinkerton Matchmaker, Book 10) Page 2
