Grace (The Marriage Market Book 2)

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “That may be enough to stop Mother. She certainly admires Mrs. Remington and her social connections, not to mention their enormous fortune. Of course, she’ll be devastated knowing this will end forever any hopes she envisioned of a match between Horace and I. Even if that is the only thing that comes of this, I’ll be eternally grateful to you.”

  “Don’t count your chickens, Grace. Horace Remington is not a man who likes to lose and certainly not one used to being denied. For some reason he set his sights on you, and I don’t mean that in a cruel or insulting way. You’re certainly prettier than you realize and far too good for him, but this may not be enough to make him give up his pursuit. He’s a wily devil and may be able to convince your mother and his that this was simply a lover’s spat. You should know if he does come after you, I shall have no compunction about using my derringer.

  “Come on, the dining car should have cleared out by now. Let’s go and get some breakfast.”

  Rising, Grace followed her.

  In the dining room, they made the acquaintance of Mrs. Myrtle, a matronly widow returning to her home in Albany after an extended visit to the coast.

  “Mrs. Myrtle, I wonder if you might help us,” Effie began as they sipped their hot chocolate. “My friend, Mrs. Brown has been ill and as a result her hair has become quite thin, ouch! Excuse me, I must have bumped my leg on the table,” she continued, glaring at Grace. “As I was saying, we wondered if you might know of a wigmaker in Albany who has ready-made pieces for just such a situation. You see, she is going to Fort Omaha to meet her husband whom she has not seen in nearly a year. It would be a shame if she didn’t look her best.”

  “Oh my dear,” Mrs. Myrtle replied sympathetically as she turned her eyes to Grace. “I understand completely. Why I’ve suffered that same thing for years. I’ll bet you didn’t know this was a wig?” she whispered, patting her tightly wound silver curls.

  “No,” Effie exclaimed. “Why I never would have guessed, not in a million years. Your hair is lovely, just lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Myrtle said as she preened. “I’ve tried several in the city, but the best by far is Madam Fifi and her shop is not far from the train station. I’d be delighted to drop you there once we arrive in Albany. My carriage will be waiting and it’s not out of my way. How long do you have before your train leaves for Chicago?”

  “A little over two hours, I believe,” Effie replied. “Do you think that will be enough time?”

  “Oh my yes. Madam Fifi has quite a selection available. I’m sure Mrs. Brown will be able to find something that suits her in no time at all. Now don’t you fret, Mrs. Brown,” Mrs. Myrtle continued as she patted Grace’s hand, “you’ll look as lovely as a new bride with one of Madam Fifi’s creations.”

  “Thank you so much,” Effie said, standing when Mrs. Myrtle took her leave. “We’ll meet you on the platform as soon as the train pulls into the station.”

  “That’s fine, dear. It’s been ever so nice meeting you both.” In a cloud of dusting powder, she took her leave.

  “A wig?” Grace hissed when Effie sat back down.

  “Yes and why did you kick me? I’m only thinking of you.”

  “Sorry, I guess it just surprised me,” Grace murmured.

  “I’ve been thinking. Changing your name is smart, but there’s no way we can disguise that red hair. In fact, by now they know we’re traveling together, or at least suspect it. A blonde and a redhead of a certain age will be hard to miss. I think this is the perfect solution. At least we won’t be so easily recognized.”

  “You’re right, as usual,” Grace said admiringly. “Why do I never think of these things?”

  “You don’t have a sneaky, suspicious nature,” Effie said with a cheeky grin. “I, on the other hand, am exceedingly mistrustful of arrogant, overbearing men such as Horace Remington and Samuel Jordon who make a habit of throwing their weight around. Trust me, Gracie-Lacy, I will get you to Seattle one way or another. Let’s go back to our compartment. We should be in Albany in a few hours.”

  The two young women who exited Madam Fifi’s shop would not have been recognized by their own parents and probably not by Amelia either. Grace sported a stylish new hat perched rakishly atop her black upswept hair. Long ringlets dangled over one shoulder, plump circlets of shiny curls bounced with each step she took. Her blue eyes sparkled, set off by her fair complexion and the beauty patch Madam affixed to her cheek. A parasol twirled over her other shoulder and with her tall, curvy frame, it was not likely she would go unnoticed.

  Effie trailed behind, her blonde hair covered with a mousey brown wig, giving her a slightly frazzled look. Useless spectacles rested on the end of her nose and a fringed shawl dangled from her shoulders.

  “If I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t believe it,” Effie giggled as she hailed a carriage. “It’s incredible.”

  “I know,” Grace agreed. “Madam even gave me some dark powder to brush on my eyebrows. I just feel bad you had to make yourself unattractive. It’s not really fair.”

  “Nonsense, we needed to change your looks and there’s no sense drawing attention we don’t want. Besides, I think it’s kind of funny. You look so incredibly beautiful I almost wish Horace could see you now so he’d know just what he lost by being such a jackass.”

  “But I only look like this because of Madam Fifi. I’m not beautiful as myself.”

  “Oh, shut up, Lacy Brown,” Effie said. As the driver opened the carriage door, she shoved Grace in.

  *

  Jonah Blackthorn tucked the file under his arm and walked out of the office of the Pinkerton Detective Agency with a spring in his step. This was his last case for the agency, and in his opinion, it couldn’t be completed soon enough. He’d been with the company for nearly ten years and had his fill of dealing with criminals and bureaucracy. It was time to move on.

  He had visions of his last case being a difficult one that would delay his leaving for several months, but for once, the fates smiled on him. Instead of chasing bank robbers to the boarder of Mexico, he had one mission—to find the pampered, runaway daughter of a frantic New England socialite. It seemed Miss Grace Wentworth was not in favor of her recent engagement and had left town in a hurry.

  Jonah smiled as he hurried to his rooms to pack a bag. There were several things working behind the scenes in his favor. For one thing, his objective was young, inexperienced in the ways of the real world and should be easy to apprehend once he located her. She was also likely headed west, a direction he personally wanted to go. If he found her before he reached San Francisco, he would turn her over to the proper authorities and they could hold the little brat until her parents came to fetch her. Then he would move on to Seattle and look up some good friends. They had contacted him about a job months ago but he’d been unable to get away. Now, he’d be as free as a bird as soon as he tied up this little domestic disagreement.

  The fact that Miss Wentworth was a redhead was icing on the cake. Jonah always had an eye for flaming locks and could spot them a mile away. It was believed she was traveling with a small blonde woman, a Miss Lane, but Jonah had no reason to detain her. Apparently, her parents were not concerned, so either Miss Lane was not betrothed to a wealthy man or her parents felt she could take care of her herself. It was also possible they were glad to be rid of her for a while, but that was not his concern. No, his assignment was to arrange Miss Wentworth’s return to the bosom of her family and that was precisely what he was going to do.

  Slapping his Stetson on his head, he checked his gun and picked up his valise. The first place to check was the train station. Miss Wentworth had been missing for three days and if she were riding the rail, she’d be in Chicago any moment. If he couldn’t spot her, he’d purchase a ticket to Omaha and try to catch up with her there, or maybe wait around for a few days in case she’d been delayed. He knew it was a long shot, thinking he’d accidentally run into his prey, but he was a man who trusted his instincts and they hadn
’t failed him yet. With any luck, he’d be able to take care of his little problem and be sailing into Puget Sound in a few weeks.

  Jonah had a tidy little bundle of reward money tucked away, and if he were successful, he would add to it considerably after this. It seemed Miss Wentworth’s fiancée was willing to pay an extra five thousand dollars to have her returned safely. Hell, he’d pursued killers who weren’t worth that much. How much trouble could one runaway girl and her sidekick be?

  Arriving at the depot, he spent the next two hours watching passengers exit the cars, either at the end of their journey or to take a few minutes to walk the kinks out. Several women caught his eye, particularly a striking brunette. She and her traveling companion re-boarded the train nearly at the last moment, giggling as they juggled their parcels.

  “I just had to buy it,” the brunette insisted.

  “You should save your money and let me pay on this trip, Grace,” the other woman scolded. “I know she’ll love it, any hat with tiny birds isn’t safe if she’s spots it, but still, you don’t know what will happen.”

  “Excuse me, let me help you with those packages,” Jonah offered after tipping his hat. Taking the hat box and two tied parcels out of their hands, he followed them onto the train. “If you just lead the way to your seats, I’ll have the porter store these for you.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Effie replied, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. “We have a compartment right down here.” Leading the way, she slid open the door, ushered Grace inside and took the items, setting them down. “Thank you, but we can manage now.”

  “Pardon me for being presumptuous, but did I hear you call this lovely lady Grace? It was my mother’s name and I’m partial to it,” he sighed. “Sadly, she passed while I was away on business and ever since, I’ve deeply regretted I couldn’t be by her side in her last moments.”

  “Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Grace said sadly. “It must have been quite a blow to you.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry too,” Effie said shortly, “but you were mistaken. My friend’s name is Lacy, Mrs.…”

  “Miss,” Grace corrected her, stepping on her foot. “Miss Lacy Brown and you are?”

  “Jonah Blackthorn, at your service.” Taking Grace’s hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her glove. Reaching for Effie’s hand, he hid his smile when she took it and gave it a firm shake.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blackthorn,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, Miss…”

  “I am Miss Crumb.”

  “Are you traveling to Omaha?” he asked, staring into Grace’s blue eyes.

  “Yes, we’re on a little trip to visit Miss Brown’s… father. He’s an officer at Fort Omaha.”

  “Oh really, what’s his name? I am quite familiar with the fort.”

  “It figures,” Effie muttered under her breath as she turned around and removed her hat.

  “Michael Brown, Major Michael Brown,” Grace said, smiling back.

  “No, I don’t recall the name, but it’s been a while since I visited the fort. Maybe I’ll look him up and tell him I met his charming daughter and her companion.”

  “Yes, you do that. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to freshen up. It’s been quite a long afternoon,” Effie announced, indicating the door.

  “I understand,” Jonah replied, tipping his hat once again. “Perhaps we can enjoy a meal or two together on our journey. It gets mighty lonesome traveling alone.”

  “Yes, I’d enjoy…”

  “I doubt that will happen, Mr. Blackthorn. You see Miss Brown has a delicate constitution and we take many of our meals in our compartment, but we wish you a pleasant trip,” Effie cooed as she ushered him out the door, slid it closed and turned the lock. Pulling down the curtain, she turned at glared at Grace.

  “What?”

  “So you’re Miss Brown now and your father’s a Major? Nothing like calling attention to yourself. The first handsome man that comes along and you forget all about your poor husband?”

  “I don’t have a ‘poor husband’,” Grace insisted.

  “I know that, but it’s what we agreed on for a story. Now Jonah Blackthorn will be sniffing around like a hound on a scent. How do you know he’s not a Pinkerton Agent?”

  “Well, I don’t,” Grace gasped in panic, her hand flying to her chest.

  “No, that’s right, you don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Effie, truly I am. He’s just so handsome and…”

  “Horace Remington is handsome too, and look what a scoundrel he is. You’re too trusting, Grace,” Effie insisted, although her tone was kinder seeing the stricken look on Grace’s face.

  “And when he spoke about his departed mother, who shares my name, well my heart just broke for him,” Grace continued, starring off into space.

  “Come on, snap out of it! His mother is probably in perfect health and living in Baltimore.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I don’t know,” Effie admitted, taking Grace’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I just think the more people we talk to, the more likely we are to be discovered. You need to be more aloof and standoffish. Don’t encourage perfect strangers to strike up a conversation. You could accidentally let something slip.”

  “You’re right, of course. You nearly always are,” Grace said dejectedly, “but he was incredibly attractive wasn’t he, and isn’t his mustache divine? Mr. Blackthorn is so tall and muscular, why I bet he’s strong enough to beat Horace to a pulp.”

  Effie laughed.

  “I’ll bet I could beat Horace to a pulp with the way I feel about him.”

  “Oh, Effie, I’d love to see that.” Grace laughed until she snorted and collapsed against the cushioned seat. “I’d like to see you kick his hairy ass to hell and gone.”

  “Where did you hear that kind of talk?” Effie asked, shocked and filled with a new respect for her friend.

  “My brother.”

  Effie sank back against the seat giggling before she fell into silence for a few moments.

  “Grace, do you think men have hairy asses?”

  “I don’t know, but it seems likely. I mean they have hair on their faces and chests.”

  “It’s kind of a disgusting thought, isn’t it?”

  Grace nodded, yawned and pulled the pin from her hat, setting it on the seat beside her. The motion of the train soon had her eyes drifting shut and she fell asleep wondering why she’d never thought to ask after Mr. Blackthorn’s wife.

  Chapter Five

  Jane Watson sat on the front porch, watching the rain drip from the roof. Lord, if those girls didn’t stop fighting soon, she was going to quit or rip her hair out. You’d think a houseful of women could live together in peace and harmony, but apparently not.

  In the last few weeks she’d grown quite fond of Dr. Martin and was anxious to begin work as his nurse. She missed her children dreadfully and wanted to send for them, yet here she was, trapped in a beautiful house of horrors.

  Sending the message to Mrs. Jordon, Tempest, had been her last resort and she breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage pulled up out front.

  “What is it, Jane?” Tempest asked, hurrying to the house as soon as her son, Samuel, lifted her to the ground. “Is one of the Mademoiselles ill? Shall I send Samuel for Dr. Martin?”

  “No, no one is ill, unless being just plain ornery and spiteful counts as an illness. I’m at my wits end. All they do is fight and argue.”

  “I do not understand. They were perfect angels at my house, oui? What has happened to cause such behavior?”

  Jane looked at the beautiful dark haired woman and sighed.

  “There are no men here, no one to impress. To put it quite simply, I think they are bored and maybe a little anxious.”

  “But I am doing everything I can to find them husbands,” Tempest insisted. “Mon Cher,” she said, turning to her son. “Go in and talk to them. Make them see it take
s time to find the proper man to wed,” she pleaded.

  “No mother,” Sam said firmly, shaking his head. “Moving them all into Hugh’s house was your idea, not mine.”

  A sudden crash and squeal followed by shrieking spilled out the upstairs window and Sam frowned.

  “What the hell is going on in there?”

  “I couldn’t begin to tell you, but if it doesn’t stop, Hugh and Amelia may not have a house to come home to,” Jane replied.

  “Mon dieu, do something, Samuel. Your Pa Pa will be most unhappy with me if things go amiss.”

  “Oh, I’ll do something all right,” Sam growled as he heard the sound of shattering glass. Yanking open the door, he entered his brother’s home like a wounded bear. “Get down here immediately,” he bellowed. “I want you all in the parlor right now!”

  Jane and Tempest followed him into the house. Instantly there was silence.

  “Now,” Sam roared.

  One by one, the girls made their way cautiously down the wide stairway, keeping one eye on Sam as they scurried past him. His expression was fearsome, his frame tense with anger.

  Once they were all assembled he began to pace.

  “I want to know what the hell is going on here and I want to know now.”

  When no one replied, he continued.

  “This is my brother’s home and you will treat it with the respect it deserves or I’ll go outside and cut some switches. If you force me to do that, you can bet each and every one of you will be sitting on sore bottoms for a week. Do I make myself clear?”

  Looking around the room, he observed fear, defiance and remorse on the faces of the women.

  “Good. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growled before walking out the door. “I better not hear of anymore of this nonsense. Mother, they’re all yours.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, they were all talking at once as they rushed to Tempest for comfort.

  “Come,” she said, patting and stroking each young woman. “Would you be so kind as to make us some tea,” she asked Jane, looking over the heads that surrounded her. “We will go into the dining room, lord knows it is big enough for a party,” she continued.