by Tamara Allen
“The engagement has accomplished that,” Ezra said, and I wondered if the money was that important to him.
A mouthful of sandwich didn’t slow Sidney down. “A spring ceremony, of course.”
“Yes.” Ezra finished his coffee. From the look on his face, I think he might’ve been better off with a shot of whiskey. “You will attend, I hope.”
“I adore weddings,” Sidney said. “Everyone is so much more attractive. And I must meet Charlotte. Is she ravishing?”
Ezra’s gaze went beseechingly to Jem, who burst into a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, my dear fellow. I will keep Sidney on a short tether. I’ve chloroform in case he gets out of hand.”
Sidney leaned sideways toward Jem and asked in a husky voice, “Will you carry me out then, cradled in your arms?”
“And encourage your vile behavior? I think not.”
“Beast.” Sidney swung around toward me. “Shall I woo you away from Ezra, dear Morgan? I should like to see America with all its rough, boisterous manners.”
“Sidney, for God’s sake.” Jem sat back in his seat, stretching long legs in front of him. “America would lock you away just as quick.”
“Then America is just as heartless. What have we done to warrant it, I ask you?”
The question appeared to be directed to me. I wasn’t ready to be Sid’s new best friend. “More sinned against than sinning, huh?”
His eyes fairly glittered. “I certainly hope not, dear boy.”
Jem’s lips twitched and Ezra slid a little farther down in the chair as Sid prattled on. “Do give Ezra the new Reflector, Jem. Ezra, have you had a chance to read his book?”
“You’re a writer?” I asked. He must have been a minor one. I’d never heard of him.
“Poet,” Sidney informed me with a pride I found kind of touching. “Genius. He shall go down through the ages with the likes of Shelley and Keats.”
“Yeah?” I wasn’t a big fan of poetry but I didn’t remember the name Montague rubbing shoulders with Shelley or Keats.
“Speaking of poets,” Sidney went on, “your darling landlord, Ezra. How is he?”
It was my turn to nearly choke on the coffee. “Derry writes poetry?”
“Positively wretched with emotions,” Sidney said, taking the last sandwich.
“I rather like Derry’s poetry,” Ezra said.
“It’s highly sentimental,” Jem said, smile touched with condescension. “Mostly wistful yearnings for the Ireland he left behind. Although I did like the one published in that little rag. What was it? ‘My Ailis’. Very heartfelt.”
“Heartfelt,” Ezra said quietly, “by the most decent heart in Christendom.”
Ready to defend Derry, I was glad to hear Ezra do it. Sidney fidgeted in his seat, nibbling on the sandwich. Jem gazed across at us without pretense. “Heartfelt, indeed. You must come to dinner Tuesday, Ezra. Now that you have been welcomed back into society’s good graces.”
“Certainly before you come to regret it.” Sidney swallowed the rest of the sandwich and washed it down with several gulps of coffee. “We’d best run, Jem dear. The seats will be taken and we will have to sit in the damp grass.”
“Bring Morgan along with you, if you like,” Jem said as if Sidney hadn’t spoken. He looked me over more openly, with a look I knew well. He was handsome, yeah, but I wasn’t too sure that I liked him. Piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw compensated for only so much. I gave him my noncommittal smile and shrug.
“Thanks for the invite. I’ll probably be long gone by then. But, hey, if you’re ever in New York, feel free to look me up.”
Sidney beamed. “What charming slang. I do wish you’d stay longer. I’d no idea Americans could be so interesting.”
Jem Montague stood up, towering over the table, and extended a hand to me. “A genuine pleasure, sir.” He put on his hat and nodded farewell to Ezra. “Do send me an invitation, dear boy.”
“Jem.” Ezra seemed oddly subdued. “ I’ll see you at the club.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Sidney began, and broke off as Jem latched firmly on to his arm and pushed him out ahead through the doorway.
“We should be on our way as well.” Apprehension strained Ezra’s voice. I looked at him to see him staring down into his empty cup. He reluctantly met my eyes and I saw the apology there. “The assumptions they made, Mr. Nash….” He shook his head. “I’m grateful to you for not—”
“Punching them in the nose?” He was squirming, but I couldn’t resist.
He grimaced. “I am sorry.”
“Hey, come on. I was joking. Anyway, their assumptions are not your fault. Just forget about it.”
It wasn’t the response he expected, judging by the bewildered expression on his face. “You aren’t insulted?”
“Should I be?” I gave him a grin. “Hell, in a way, I’m flattered.”
I sure didn’t seem to be doing anything to relieve his confusion. “Flattered,” he murmured, as if the word made no sense in the context of our conversation. “But—you knew already, then?”
“Ezra, you flirted with me almost the instant I got here.”
His cheeks colored. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable—”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“It doesn’t?”
Time to perfect my own subject-changing skills. “So what do you say? Stonehenge?”
At his horrified look, I swallowed a grin. Sending me back home was going to be a relief for us both.
Chapter 6
We didn’t visit the big rocks, instead hiring a carriage to ride around town the next couple of hours. We ended up in what Ezra called “The Row,” where we came across a slew of bookstalls. Though not something I normally gravitated to on vacation, I now had a little more incentive to browse the stacks. Ezra was apparently in his own personal heaven. I had to pull his nose out of more than one book to keep him focused on what we were searching for. Some of the books were damned old, even for 1888, and I started out optimistic; but there were so many books so haphazardly sorted, it would take weeks to locate one particular book in all the mess.
One by one, the shops closed and we headed, dusty and tired, back to the house. Late for supper, we were ushered into the dining room, to a table draped with crisp linen and sparkling with silver. Kathleen introduced Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny to me in such a way that I was not sure which was which. They were both rather nondescript middle-aged men in dark suits, with a demeanor that reminded me of the more humorless higher-ups at the Bureau.
If anyone was put out at our tardiness, any sign of it was buried by the curiosity in the glances that came our way. Derry was the one who finally asked, and since I knew the question was for Ezra, I left it to him and progressed through a plateful of fried potatoes and strips of beef smothered in gravy. Kathleen was going to put her boarders in an early grave, but at least they’d die full and happy.
“Yes, indeed, we went to Newgate. Some bread, Mr. Nash?” Ezra offered me a covered basket and I plucked out a warm slice. “We worked up something of an appetite in the process.”
I knew that was directed at me. Mouth full, I just threw him a look and kept eating. He tried to suppress a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “We searched a few bookstalls afterward—”
“Hold a moment,” Derry said in exasperation. “Newgate?”
“I got through without any difficulty. No need to worry.” Ezra shot me an impish glance. “Mr. Nash assisted.”
Kathleen evidently had a sixth sense herself, because she looked at me suspiciously before she asked how many more nights I thought I might be staying. Ezra answered for me. “He should be leaving tomorrow, with any luck.”
Dr. Gilbride, who’d been nodding off over his meal, looked at me. “Outstay your welcome, Mr. Nash?” It was a joking tone and I managed to smile.
“Usually within the first five minutes.” I put down my fork. “If I haven’t mentioned it, I’m grateful to you all for the room and board.
I’d pay you back if I could.”
My little speech won a faint smile from Kathleen. “No need, Mr. Nash. This is a Christian home. I will not turn away those who come to me for help.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I wondered if she would have felt the same if she knew more about me. I looked around the table. “So, who’s stuck with me tonight?”
“You’ll stay with me, I hope,” Derry said, and I got the impression the matter was already settled.
Well, I was popular enough to get one offer. “Thanks, Derry.”
Henry, who’d been blessedly quiet, suggested it was time to prepare the parlor. Curious, I looked around to gauge reactions to the little game the resident con men—or con man, at least—intended to play. Dr. Gilbride seemed entirely disinterested or maybe just too damned tired to care. Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny had excused themselves from the table without a backward glance. Kathleen looked uncomfortable. But she made no objection as Ezra and Henry vanished into the other room.
I had my plate and silverware in my hand and was heading for the kitchen when Kathleen diverted her concern to me. “Did you want something more, Mr. Nash? I will prepare you another plate.”
“No, ma’am. I was taking my dishes in. Force of habit.” Not quite sure why I was embarrassed, I let her have the plate and silver. “It was just something expected of me in my family.”
“Was it, now?” Her face softened. “Well, then, you may take them in. But leave the washing to us. By the by, we’ve laundered the clothes you arrived in. Hannah will bring them up to you.”
The woman was more efficient than my mom. And that was pretty damned efficient. “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.”
She let me walk ahead into the kitchen. Hannah, in a damp apron, stood at the sink. I added my dishes to the pile of pots and pans, which made me feel distinctly like a louse. “Hi ya, Hannah. How’re you doing?”
She looked anxiously around to make sure Kathleen had left before turning a stricken face to me. “I didn’t pinch them. I’ll take an oath on the Bible I didn’t. I thought she might put you out. That’s all, I swear it.”
Startled by the frightened confession, I put a calming hand on her shoulder. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect and she jerked back with a little gasp. “Hannah, I’m not going to get you into any kind of trouble, I promise. What’d you take?” It couldn’t have been anything of value. My gun was on me, as was my wallet. The cell phone was broken and everything else was pocket litter.
Hannah slid a hand into her apron pocket and retrieved my set of cuffs. I choked back a laugh. I’d forgotten I’d stuck them into the inside pocket of my jacket. She handed them to me, after another wary glance toward the kitchen door. “Shiniest pair of ruffles I seen,” she whispered. “How’d you get away?”
“Away from what?”
“Ain’t no call to worry,” she said, though she was the one who looked worried. “Whatever you done, I won’t tell—but there’s rozzers up and down Bloomsbr’y all the time. If you’re going back to America, you best go quick.”
I finally caught on to what she was talking about. “Hannah, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not a criminal. I’m—well, I’m something like a policeman. A rozzer.”
She had Kathleen’s suspicious look down pat. “You ain’t. Truly?”
“Cross my heart.” I stuffed the cuffs into my pocket and checked to make sure the key was still safe in my wallet. Hannah went back to her dishes, all the while casting a curious eye my way. I casually picked up a dishcloth and began drying the dishes she’d washed. “Don’t you have any gloves for that? You’re a little young for dishpan hands, kiddo.”
To my surprise, she giggled. “Washing dishes in me gloves.” She ducked her head to hide the amusement she couldn’t suppress.
Deciding to forego an explanation on the wonders of latex, I gave her a grin, encouraging her not to hide hers. “Not a good idea, huh?”
She swallowed back the laughter, her face going red. “I didn’t mean—”
“Hannah, you can say what you think. It’s all right. I’d like us to be friends.”
“Friends?” The suspicion returned, edged with uneasiness.
I checked a sigh. “Just friends, sweetheart. Where I come from, anyone can be friends. It doesn’t matter who they are or where they come from.”
“America.” She sounded awed.
“Well, yeah. More or less.”
Kathleen pushed open the kitchen door, carrying the flowers that had been the table centerpiece. She set them near a window and looked around at us. “Hannah, put on a clean apron so you may answer the door.”
Hannah curtsied and took off, leaving me the lone recipient of Kathleen’s deadly gaze. “Hannah may be fifteen, Mr. Nash, but she is an impressionable young woman.”
“I was only talking to her. Her virtue is safe around me, I promise you.”
She looked at me as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether she was dealing with an angel or devil. “My brother may allow you to take advantage of his generous nature, but I will not. If you stay in London, you will have to find rooms somewhere else—unless Mr. Cotton does go to Paris—in which case, you may board here, provided you find employment and agree to maintain the propriety of a respectable house.”
“Yes, ma’am,” was about all I could think to say to that. She still thought I’d been hitting on Hannah, and I knew it wouldn’t do any good to take offense at her attitude. Her mindset was worlds away from mine. And she didn’t know me, didn’t know that I wouldn’t, even if I had that kind of interest in the fairer sex. Of course if she had the chance to know me that well, she’d probably toss me out on my ear. I was sure she didn’t know about Ezra. I couldn’t imagine her tolerating that in her “respectable house.”
Of more interest to me was what she would tolerate that I never would have. “Mind if I ask you something, Miss Neilan?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “This séance Ezra and Henry are holding. That’s not dancing with the devil, in your book?”
That threw her for a loop. I had a feeling it might, despite the fact that she could hold her ground with a houseful of men. But I didn’t back down. She could dish it out. I wanted to see if she could take it.
She pressed her hands against the smooth velvet of her corseted waist as if steadying herself. “The matter is more complicated than you know.”
I couldn’t help a snort. “Most matters are. Isn’t there something in the Bible about this sort of thing being a wicked abomination?” I was an expert on abominations, being one, myself.
It took her a moment to answer. “I spoke with my mother, God rest her.” She crossed herself, then met my eyes, pain simmering far back in the iron gray of hers. “It was not a trick. She related things no man could know. Not Ezra, certainly. We’d hardly spoken beyond common courtesies.”
“Maybe he found out things. Maybe he had help.”
“No. Not these things. He could not find them out.” She was resolute and calm again. “Not even Derry knew….” She shook her head. “As long as Henry and Ezra continue to do their work in God’s name, they will have my blessing.”
“They’re lawbreakers, Miss Neilan. They’re cheating innocent people out of hard-earned money by playing on their fragile emotional states.”
“You are quick to judge them.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” I smiled ruefully. “See how easy it is.”
The faintest pink touched her high cheekbones. “It’s my duty to protect the girl. Forgive me if I offended you.”
Probably no one else in the house had ever tried to befriend Hannah. I supposed it was just one of those things you didn’t do whilst maintaining propriety. God, I’d never last in this century. “Do me a favor, Miss Neilan. Keep this conversation in mind, if sometime in the future you have an opportunity to pass judgment on someone else.”
“I believe you have someone particular in mind.” She didn’t ask whom, but with an acknowledging nod, invited me to join he
r in the parlor. As aware as I was of what I was walking into, I was hard pressed not to laugh at the sight that met my eyes. The round table in the center of the room had been draped with a fringed black velvet throw. The gas had been turned down to lend just the right spooky ambience, several candles in strategic places adding to the effect.
The solemn group around the table watched Henry’s every move as he settled into a high-backed chair and extended his hands, palms up, to the participants on either side of him. In a chair opposite, Ezra slumped in comfortable oblivion, at least until some sense alerted him of my arrival. He looked at me with a hint of his old wariness, probably waiting for me to denounce him in front of all his clients. Going for inscrutable, I found a seat in a corner where I could watch the con unfold.
