by Shelley Gray
“I hope you won’t mind me asking.” He sniffed the room in an appreciative way. “I’m hoping your offer of a home-cooked meal is still on the table?”
“Jemima has already set you a place.”
“Thank you, Maeve.”
“Now, your hint of a favor has sparked my interest. Do tell.”
“I will,” he said before turning to their youngest sister. “As soon as Katie and I have a little chat.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned and glared at Katie, then turned back to Sean. “What’s she done?”
“Nothing,” Katie said.
“We’ll see about that,” Sean murmured.
Maeve glanced at their sister again. “How about I join you both and we discuss it, the three of us? You know I’ll hear about it sooner or later.”
“I’d rather speak to her privately, if you don’t mind.” When Maeve looked ready to argue, he lowered his voice. “I understand how you feel, but let me talk to her first.”
“All right then.” Turning to her daughter, she clapped her hands once. “Come along into the kitchen, Jemima. I want you to help me work on supper.”
When they were alone, Katie’s expression became more shuttered. “I should have known you would come by here.”
“Yes, you should have. I heard quite a story when I returned to the station today,” he said as he led her to a pair of chairs near the fireplace. “Care to tell me why my little sister visited a police precinct?”
“I wanted to see you.”
He looked her over carefully, taking in her features, the expression in her eyes. Only then did he realize he was breathing more fully. He’d been worried about her.
“Why did you decide to come see me, Katie?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“We both know it does. I recall telling you quite distinctly that I don’t want you there.”
“Is it because you’re embarrassed of me?”
Where on earth had that come from? “It is because the police station is a place for criminals, Kate,” he corrected gently. One would hardly want one’s little sister in the midst of those folks. It had been bad enough when she’d convinced their mother to visit him at the precinct station once or twice when she was a little girl.
Her eyes widened, but she remained quiet.
And so he tried another tack. “Detective Howard said you arrived there by yourself.” His voice hardened. “And that you left by yourself.”
“That is hardly noteworthy.” She tilted her nose up a bit.
He wondered when she’d adopted that move! Struggling to maintain his patience, he said, “It is noteworthy when Detective Howard told me you refused his escort. And when I’ve cautioned you to never go about by yourself, especially now.”
“Your reasons were silly, Sean. Everyone knows the Society Slasher is only going after ladies. Not girls like me.”
“What do you mean, girls like you?”
When she blushed and looked down at her feet, he knew he had touched a nerve. “Was Detective Howard rude to you?”
“Of course not.”
Of course not. “Then why wouldn’t you allow him to see you back to the train station?”
She gazed at him for a long moment. Then she uttered, “Because I know he doesn’t think I’m worth much.”
“Say again?”
“When I told him I was there to talk to you about the Slasher, he told me I shouldn’t have to worry about him, Sean.”
There was a bitterness in her voice, but he couldn’t quite understand its source. For a second, he wished he had taken Maeve up on her offer to join them for this discussion. He had a feeling only a feminine mind was going to be able to navigate Katie’s glares, utterances, and half-formed statements.
“And why did this bother you?”
“Because it was obvious he thought I was very far from a lady.”
“I don’t think that was what he meant.”
“It is what it felt like.”
“What do you know about the Slasher?” he asked, deciding it would be better to concentrate on that instead of Katie’s grievance with his partner.
“I know there was another victim last night, and I read that you were there, investigating.”
“That is true.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Katie, there is no reason for you to worry about me.”
“But the papers say all kinds of things about him.”
Knowing just how merciless this assailant was, how hard it was to view his damage, made Sean’s tone harsher than he intended. “You shouldn’t have been reading about the Slasher in the first place.”
“I’m not a child, Sean. I am nineteen now, you know.” She tilted her head in that way she was now so fond of doing, so full of sass. “Plus, I’m interested in the papers.”
“Because?”
“Because I might want to be a reporter one day.”
A reporter? Oh, but he really should have had Maeve stay in the room. He decided to close this conversation, and soon. “Let me tell you this one more time, Kate. Stop traipsing around Chicago on your own.”
“Sean—”
“And don’t continue visiting police stations, either. If you have a need of me, send word. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.”
“But—”
But he wasn’t done. His voice getting louder, he bit out, “And since I’m giving you advice—”
“Which I did not ask for.”
“I sincerely hope you reconsider any idea about writing for the newspapers. You know how the writers of the papers sensationalize everything. Even things that don’t need to be sensationalized.”
Her eyes widened. “The Society Slasher does things that are really, really bad, doesn’t he?”
There was no need to prevaricate. “Yes.”
“Sean, the last two times the Slasher has attacked, you’ve been in the area.”
“So have other men on the police force.”
“You might get injured. What if he tries to attack you?”
“No one is going after Irish policemen, Katie.”
She slumped. “I suppose even a serial criminal knows the difference between the fine ladies and gentlemen of Chicago society and the likes of us.”
Now he understood where her hurt lay. And he ached for her. It was a hard lesson to learn, that no matter how good a person’s character, no matter how strong a man like him might be or how beautiful a girl like Katie was . . . for some people, those things would never be enough.
He drew in a deep breath. “Kate, I promise, Detective Howard wasn’t saying you shouldn’t have to worry about the Slasher because you aren’t a lady. He said that because he couldn’t imagine a sweet girl like you reading about such disturbing events in the newspapers.”
She perked up. “Truly?”
“Really. In his world, women are kept away from the newspapers. The men in their lives filter everything. He was trying to do that.”
She swallowed, then slowly looked at him in wonder. “Detective Howard was trying to protect me this morning, wasn’t he? He was trying to look out for me, just as if I was someone special. Just like I was one of those ladies shopping on Michigan Avenue.”
Sean privately thought Owen was looking out for her because she was his partner’s little sister. Because she was young and fresh and innocent looking. Probably also because he thought she was beautiful—and she was.
But Sean also knew what Katie needed to hear.
And so he said the words that he ached to be true. “Yes, dear. He wanted to protect you because he considers you a lovely young lady.”
When her blue eyes sparkled with happiness, Sean forced himself to smile too.
She didn’t need to know that he would beat up Owen Howard in a heartbeat if he even thought twice about having designs on Katie Ryan.
No, she didn’t need to know that at all.
CHAPTER 9
Do I want
to know what happened with you and our little sister?” Maeve asked Sean when he entered her kitchen, feeling mildly uneasy by the conversation that had just taken place with Katie in the other room.
“Probably not,” he said.
On his way over, he’d been prepared to discuss Katie’s reckless behavior with his older sister and get her assurances that she would help him redirect their youngest sister’s energies. He’d been ready to tell Katie how disappointed he was in her behavior and do anything he could to make sure Maeve was on his side.
He knew he was justified in his feelings too. Even without the Slasher wreaking havoc all over the city, there was plenty for a young girl to be worried about. Especially a pretty girl like their Katie was.
And though at nineteen he’d already been on the police force and Maeve had been married, Sean had been determined to conveniently forget those things and focus on just how young and naïve their Katie was. He’d been willing to risk her tears and anger if he could be assured that his adored sister would stay safe.
But after talking to her, he’d had a change of heart. He wasn’t Katie’s father, and she already had one brother acting as a father figure. Sean was also coming to the conclusion that the two of them were a lot alike. Both he and Katie had always had a desire to be seen for what they were beyond a first glance. He knew that was a hard enough road to navigate without him stifling her further.
“Sean?” Maeve waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? You know I’m expecting more of an answer than that.”
“Katie is fine.”
“She is not fine.”
“All right, then how about this? At the moment, I don’t feel there’s anything to worry about.”
A line formed between her eyebrows. “Truly?”
He shrugged. “She’s being a bit impetuous. Again.”
“More than that.”
He nodded, giving Maeve her due. “Even so, I think in the long run it might be best to not make a big deal out of it. You know how June was at that age,” he added, even though he knew Maeve didn’t need any reminders of just how flighty their recently married sister had been at nineteen.
“I didn’t think any of us were going to survive June’s eighteenth year, let alone her nineteenth.”
“She just about drove all of us to drink,” he teased. “Mom threatened to lock her in her room more than once. I wish she actually had.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. June would have simply climbed out the window.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Which she did.”
“Billy caught her once. Threatened to paddle her backside.”
“That, too, might have settled her down. But, of course, our Connor wouldn’t hear of it.” Grabbing a fresh dish towel, Maeve wiped off a mixing bowl she’d just washed. “June always was our eldest brother’s favorite.”
“And from the time she was born, she’s also had him wrapped around her little finger.”
Remembering how each of them caused a fair bit of drama over the years, Sean said, “If we could survive June, I imagine we’ll survive Katie too.”
“I hope so. I’ve got my own children to raise now. Jemima and Jack Junior are enough for me at the moment.”
Walking closer, he leaned against her kitchen cabinets. “Before either of them claims your attention—I assume Jack is out with his friends somewhere until supper—I think I’d better get to the other reason I’m here.”
Maeve picked up a baking pan and dried it. “I was hoping you’d get to that.”
“I’m here to beg a favor.”
She looked him over closely, her perceptive gaze seeming to take in whatever emotion he was wearing on his sleeve. “Ask away, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to sit and chat while you take your sweet time getting to the point. While you get your thoughts together, I’m going to keep working on supper. I sent Jemima outside.”
“You sure you don’t mind me staying?” He didn’t want to take any food her family needed.
“Positive. I invited you, didn’t I?” Maeve looked over her shoulder as she began washing carrots and potatoes. “We’ve got plenty tonight, brother. We’d love to have you join us.”
“Thank you for that.”
Maeve waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Now, how about you stop dragging your feet and tell me a little bit about this favor you’d be needin’?”
“I’ve met a young lady who is interested in visiting Hope House.”
Setting down a potato, she frowned. “What happened? Did she lose her man? Is she homeless?”
He held up a hand. “It’s nothing like that. She wants to volunteer there.”
“Volunteer? What, she got an excess of time on her hands?” she joked.
“As a matter of fact, she does. But it’s more than that,” he added quickly. “She intends to help Hope House financially. Or become a benefactress or something like that.”
“A benefactress?” Maeve tilted her head to one side, staring at him hard. “What kind of girl is this?”
“A nice one.” A special one, he added privately.
A look of pure gladness crossed over her sister’s features. “You’ve met someone? When did this happen? And where? Do I know her?” She paused. “Is it Jamilyn Mikenney? She’s always had her eye on you, but I’ve never been of the mind that she was good enough for you. Did she finally get her claws in you?”
“Stop, Maeve. It’s not Jamilyn.”
“Is it Trinny Jamison?”
“It’s no one you know.”
“If I don’t know her, how do you know her?”
“I met her through work, but over time she’s become my . . . friend of sorts.” Of course, this was exaggerating things a bit much. He’d only really talked to her three times—all in the last twenty-four hours.
And he couldn’t exactly say they were now friends. Actually, he felt it was impossible to categorize his relationship with her. She seemed to trust him, while he was basically smitten.
Yes, their relationship was an interplay of disparities, he presumed. He thought she was beautiful and refined. Enchanting. She was everything he always imagined a woman could be, and he counted the moments spent in her company as some of his most gratifying.
For Eloisa, however, there was a very good chance that when she did ever think of him, it was only as someone who was a bare step above a butler. Though, now that he thought about it, the Carstairs’ butler, Worthy, was no doubt two steps above him on the social scale.
Still looking at him intently, Maeve wrinkled her nose. “What did you mean when you said she was your friend? What kind of woman would take up a friendship with you?”
“With me?”
“Sean . . .” She gritted her teeth.
Enjoying the novel experience of teasing her—really Maeve was the last person to ever enjoy being teased—he said, “I’m sure you didn’t mean that in quite the way it sounded. At least, I hope not.”
“Oh, away with you. You know what I meant. Who is she?”
Suddenly, he was rethinking his idea. How could he describe Eloisa Carstairs so a woman like Maeve would understand? “She’s simply a young lady I met while working on my current case.”
Maeve glanced at him sharply. “On a case, you say?” After a moment, she looked horrified. “Sean, you are trying to uncover the Slasher! Was she attacked?”
“No, but she has been places where he was.”
“Truly?” Another line formed between her eyebrows. “But I thought you said this man stalks society girls. I mean, that’s what the Tribune has been saying.”
“They’re right in this case.”
“So she is part of society. And she is rich too. And she has struck up your acquaintance. I’m finding this a right bit intriguing.”
“Maeve, there’s no reason for us to go down this path. I came to ask you a favor, not to divulge details about my personal life.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a personal life.”
“I do, and I’d li
ke to keep it that way. Personal.” Well, he hoped he would have one eventually.
“Your cheeks are flushed. That means something. What is it about this girl?” she continued, her manner as feisty as a Doberman’s. “Is she special to you?”
“Perhaps she could be if our circumstances were different. However, I doubt Eloisa would ever even be permitted to be special to a man like me.”
“Eloisa is her name?” she asked slowly.
“Yes. Eloisa Carstairs.”
Her lips turned up. “That’s a pretty fancy name. And what do you mean by ‘be permitted’?”
“About what you would think. She has more than one person overseeing her.”
“Overseeing her? Whatever for?”
“You know, to make sure she doesn’t suffer a social mishap.” Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. Since when was he an authority on such things?
“A social mishap,” she repeated under her breath.
Sean could have kicked himself. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was reveal his feelings for Eloisa. But he didn’t seem to be able to do anything in a half-hearted way where she was concerned.
After tossing her sliced vegetables in with her roast, Maeve turned to him. “This Eloisa sounds like a very grand young lady. Very high and mighty, she does.”
“She is.” Was that a note of pride in his voice? A mistaken note, undoubtedly. “She’s very pretty. And a young lady of some repute.”
“And you are seeing her?” This time, she wasn’t even trying to hide the incredulousness and humor in her voice.
“Not like that. As I told you, we’ve become friends, of a sort. Which brings us back to Hope House. Would you please meet us there Sunday and show her around the place? She’s interested in learning more about it.”
“Hope House ain’t that kind of place, Sean. The last thing those girls there need is some uppity rich lady looking down their noses at them.”
“She is nothing like that.”
“They’re all like that.”
“Maeve, will you do this for me?”
“I don’t see why I should. I got far better things to do than show a spoiled rich girl how the other half lives.”
