A Match of Wits

by Jen Turano

  “I must be losing my touch, because if I’d simply checked in with you sooner, I would’ve discovered more information than I’ve uncovered in months.”

  “I do tend to have a mountain of information at my fingertips, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been awfully neglectful of late, but I suppose that’s due to your delightful Arabella’s condition.” Dot winked again. “Do make certain you give Arabella my regards. I’m in the midst of knitting a precious baby blanket for her, but that’s supposed to be a surprise, so just keep that to yourself.”

  Agatha leaned across Drusilla, who’d taken the seat right next to her. “The image of you knitting, Dot, is one I truly never imagined, but getting back to the business at hand, would you have any idea who might have hired these women to kill me?”

  “I’m afraid there are numerous people in the city right now who might want to see you dead, darling, what with all those brilliant yet all too truthful articles you write,” Dot said. “Even though you write under a man’s name, I’m afraid people have made it their business to discover your true identity.” She smiled. “I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve written and really must thank you for bringing to light all the injustices we of the unfortunate class suffer.”

  “You’ve read my articles?”

  Dot’s smile disappeared in a flash. “I do read.” Reaching across the table, she patted Agatha’s hand. “The article you did about women walking the streets in order to put food on the table is what helped me turn my back on that life. You pointed out, at least to me, that there was a better way, and while working in a pub is still somewhat sketchy, it’s more pleasant than my other life. You also helped me realize that I’m not alone in this world, and you did so without preaching. You did it in a way that allowed me to reach out to God through that delightful Reverend Fraser.

  “Although I readily admit I’m still a bit of a sinner at times, I’m growing. And for that, you have my thanks.” Dot smiled once again. “I believe, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, that you’ve been given a gift from God for the written word, and I hope you remember that, even when you’re faced with people wanting you dead.”

  Agatha’s vision blurred as Dot’s words sunk in. She’d always hoped that her articles would help someone, somewhere, and evidently they had. Wiping eyes that were now leaking, she let out a sniff, which had Dot rolling her eyes.

  “Don’t get all weepy on me or I’ll lose respect for you,” Dot said, although she whipped a handkerchief out of the bodice of her dress and passed it over.

  Dabbing her eyes with it, Agatha looked up and found Zayne watching her with an expression of complete understanding on his face, that expression making her eyes well up again.

  He’d always understood her, but it had been made all too clear that he wasn’t ready for the type of commitment she longed from him, even if he had asked her in a peculiar sort of way to marry him.

  Tearing her gaze from his, she looked around the table. “Well, I suppose we’ve made some progress here tonight, at least as pertains to Mary and her girls.”

  “If she’s truly an assassin, you’re in more danger than we imagined,” Theodore said.

  “As Dot said, it’s highly unlikely she’s still in the city.”

  “As Theodore mentioned, assassins don’t get paid until they complete the job,” Francis countered, catching her eye. “You’ll have to leave the city.”

  “I won’t leave, not again. Whoever wants me dead has taken too much from me as it is. I was forced to stay away from my family and friends for a year. I missed births and anniversaries and . . . everything.” She blew out a breath. “We’ve been going about it all wrong. I—”

  Zayne let out a grunt. “Absolutely not.”

  “She hasn’t said anything yet,” Theodore pointed out.

  “She doesn’t have to,” Zayne returned. “She wants to offer herself up as bait.”

  Agatha’s mouth went slack. “How did you know that?”

  “Because I know you, and I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Pushing aside the pesky realization that his knowing her so well had caused her heart to lurch yet again, Agatha forced a shrug. “It’s the only way to put an end to this, and since I understand what I’m facing, I’ll be prepared.”

  “You can’t be prepared for an assassin, Agatha,” Zayne argued. “They’re stealthy.”

  “Mary’s not.”

  “The person who hired her certainly is, since Theodore hasn’t been able to track that person down—and he’s been trying for over a year.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m going to stop hiding and go out in the open. I’m not willing to live my life skulking in the shadows for the rest of my days, and this is the only way I’ll be able to reclaim it.”

  “I can’t allow it,” Theodore said.

  “I don’t need your permission, Theodore, but I would appreciate your help.”

  “Is this what you meant when you told me you came out tonight to seek closure?” Francis asked.

  “Not exactly,” Agatha said, carefully avoiding Zayne’s gaze.

  “What do you mean, not exactly?” Francis demanded. “What else are you up to?”

  “I’d rather not say until the boy we sent out with a message returns.” She looked at the watch she’d pinned to the underside of her sleeve. “But he’s been gone over an hour, so I hope we’ll have an answer soon.”

  “An answer to what?”

  “Why, the answer just walked through the door,” Dot said, rising to her feet and gesturing to the dirty boy making his way through the crowd. He pushed his way through the patrons and stopped beside their table.

  “Did you have any luck?” Agatha asked.

  “I did, and he’s right outside,” the boy said.

  “Who is right outside?” Zayne demanded.

  Ignoring the fact that her heart had taken to aching, Agatha squared her shoulders. She’d known the minute Zayne had professed his fondness for her that she had to give up her hopes and dreams of spending her life with the man. She could no longer deny that she was in love with him, but she needed him to return that love, and he . . . didn’t.

  It was time to firmly put him aside and get on with her life, a life that was meant to be spent pursuing her stories and trying to correct injustices against people like Dot. Dot’s words had resonated within her very soul, and she knew God had sent those words to her to remind her that, yes, her heart was broken once again, but her hands and her mind weren’t. She needed to move on, move forward, and she was going to have to do that without Zayne.

  But she’d promised God clear back in Colorado that she’d help Zayne recover, and this—what was waiting outside the pub—was the last piece he needed to truly heal.

  “Would you go invite him in?” she asked the messenger, who nodded and hurried away.

  “What are you up to, Agatha?” Zayne asked.

  “I think we might have found Willie.”

  “Who?”

  “Willie Higgins, the man you bought your mine from.”

  “I’d forgotten all about him.”

  The corners of her mouth curled. “Well, we have been busy of late, and you have been stuck in bed and plagued with mysterious illnesses, but I didn’t forget.”

  For some reason, Zayne’s eyes began to blaze. “You have to stop trying to put me and my life to rights, Agatha. Coming here tonight was beyond idiotic, and that you did so because of me . . . Well, I won’t stand for it anymore.”

  “You won’t have to,” she said softly right as a man with his hat in his hand and looking rather careworn stepped up to the table. His gaze darted around and settled on Zayne.

  “Mr. Beckett,” the man exclaimed. “Good heavens, sir, what are you doing here?”

  Zayne’s eyes cooled immediately. “Mr. Higgins, how nice to see you again. I’m apparently here to meet you.”

  Willie Higgins frowned. “That messenger didn’t say anything about you, Mr. Beckett. The boy just told
me that there was a matter of business to be discussed, and I thought, given that I let the owner of this pub know I’m in need of a job, that he’d found one for me.”

  “That’s how I knew, when Agatha asked about Willie Higgins, where to find him,” Dot said speaking up as she smiled at Agatha.

  Willie switched his attention to Agatha and frowned, causing Agatha to grin. “No need to fret, Mr. Higgins. I am indeed Agatha. I’m just in disguise.”

  “How . . . interesting,” Mr. Higgins muttered before he looked back to Zayne and suddenly seemed a little nervous. “I take it the mine turned out to be a bust?”

  “He’s not here to ask for his money back,” Agatha quickly reassured the man. “In fact, since you brought up needing a position, I do think you’ll soon find you have no need to continue searching for one.” Rising from her chair, she moved to Willie’s side, patted his arm, and turned and caught Zayne’s eye. “You’ll take matters from here?”

  Zayne frowned. “You’re not staying?”

  “There’s really no need. I’ve done what I promised to do, and now it’s time for me to leave.” She turned and nodded to Francis. “I’m not feeling too well at the moment, Francis, and I’d appreciate it if you’d see me home.”

  Pretending not to see the looks of concern being sent her way, especially coming from Zayne, she waited for Francis to reach her side, took the arm he offered her, even though she knew they looked rather strange since she was disguised as a man, and with her head held high walked out of the pub.

  14

  Having woken up incredibly sore the day after Matilda had knocked him to the ground, Zayne had taken Dr. Gessler’s advice and retreated to his bed in order to allow his body time to heal. He’d resolutely remained in bed, even though his soreness had disappeared after the first day, hoping that Agatha, since it had been her pig that had landed him in bed in the first place, would pay him a visit and they could clear up matters between them.

  That hope, however, had never materialized, and he’d begun to think, since he’d been languishing in bed for over two days, that it probably never would.

  Reaching over to grab a stack of papers concerning the new mining deal he was in the midst of completing with Willie, Zayne tried to shove all thoughts of Agatha aside. He began leafing through the pages but gave up a moment later when she continued to plague his every thought.

  Why she was still so upset with him, he hadn’t a clue. Yes, he’d blundered with the whole marriage situation, but Agatha had never before denied him her company, even when she was irritated with him. And that led him to believe that she might be a touch more than simply irritated with him at the moment.

  He had a sneaking suspicion her avoiding him had something to do with that disturbing “closure” business she’d mentioned to Francis. But since he didn’t understand what the closure matter involved and Francis wasn’t responding to any of the messages he’d sent a servant to deliver, he was left with unanswered questions.

  The one thing he did know for certain was that he missed Agatha’s company quite dreadfully, missed their amusing conversations and the sound of her laughter and . . .

  Heels clicking against the floor had him leaning forward, a slice of disappointment stealing through him when only his mother came into view.

  “Expecting, or hoping, for someone else?” Gloria asked as she moved to the bed, plucked up some of the papers strewn across it, and began to busy herself with mothering.

  Taking a step back after plumping up his pillows, she shook her head. “Honestly, darling, I thought after our last chat that you were determined to fix matters with Agatha. Telling the poor lady you were quite fond of her while you were in the midst of proposing was not really an effective method.”

  “Fondness is an emotion that most ladies long to receive.”

  Gloria waved the comment away. “You then, from what Cora explained to me, rescinded your horrible offer.”

  “I was slightly annoyed over the whole rejecting-me-out-of-hand business.”

  “Ah, hmm,” Gloria muttered before she plopped down in the nearest chair and began, much to Zayne’s surprise, to look through the papers she’d scooped off his bed. “Matters going well with Willie?”

  “You want to discuss Willie?”

  “Until I decide what I want to say about Agatha, yes, I’d like to discuss Willie.”

  Realizing that whatever his mother finally did decide to say regarding Agatha was not going to be pleasant for him to hear, he leaned back against his recently plumped-up pillows and summoned up a smile. “Willie has agreed to form a partnership with me and help me rebuild the mine. Hamilton’s been sitting in on our talks, and he decided that this mining venture should be backed by the Beckett name and funds. Because of that, Willie will soon be leaving to set our plans into motion, and the Beckett family should see, in a year or two, a substantial profit.”

  “That’s lovely, dear,” Gloria said. “And how do you feel about Agatha tracking down this poor Willie and allowing you to finally do what’s right for the man?”

  “I thought you weren’t quite ready to discuss Agatha?”

  “I’ve suddenly found my words and organized my thoughts.”

  “That’s a little frightening.”

  “Yes, it is,” Gloria agreed. “So, tell me, what do you have in mind next?”

  “As pertains to . . . ?”

  “Agatha, of course.”

  “Since she apparently doesn’t want to speak with me, I’m not certain how to proceed.”

  Gloria nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say, which is why Cora and I have come up with a plan.”

  “A . . . plan?”

  “Indeed. And it’s a good one—one of our best, if you must know.”

  “I was under the impression Cora was put out with me at the moment.”

  “Oh, she’s furious, but she still adores you, dear. That’s why she’s hosting a intimate dinner party at her house, and we’re going to sit you right next to Agatha.”

  “You do remember that, even though Dr. Gessler proclaimed me recovered, he did caution me against placing myself in dangerous situations.”

  “He was referring to placing yourself in Matilda’s vicinity, not Agatha’s, and I highly doubt she’ll try to inflict any harm on you while dinner’s being served.”

  “Matilda might though.”

  “Not if you treat Agatha with the proper amount of respect and don’t get annoyed with her again.”

  “That’s a daunting idea, especially since Agatha annoys me frequently.”

  “Which I’ve always thought is very telling.”

  Zayne quirked a brow. “How is that telling?”

  “She brings out emotions in you I rarely see.”

  “I get annoyed with you all the time.”

  Gloria laughed. “No, you don’t, you’ve only started getting that way since I started meddling in your life, but that has nothing to do with getting Agatha back.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to help me get Agatha back. In fact, if we look at this objectively, it might be best if I simply let her go.”

  “That’s a horrible idea, and of course you need to get her back. The two of you fit each other to perfection.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You complete each other. You’re happiest when you’re with her. You smile more, laugh more, and seem more at peace.”

  His breath stuck in his throat when it suddenly struck him that everything his mother was saying was exactly the truth. Zayne caught her eye, saw the compassion in them, and sighed. “I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Which is why it’s a good thing you have me for your mother. I have a few ideas—one of which I’m going to ask you to put into motion at the dinner party.”

  “And that would be . . . ?

  “You’re going to have to grovel.”

  “I don’t think I’m capable of groveling, Mother.”

  “I’m certain you ca
n summon up a good grovel if you set your mind to it. Consider this—Hamilton groveled, Theodore groveled, and even Grayson groveled. If you want Agatha back, groveling will be required.”

  “Did I miss anything good?”

  Zayne turned his head, his mood immediately improving when Piper skipped into the room, her golden curls bouncing even though they were tied back with a red ribbon that exactly matched her dress. She stopped by the bed, leaned over, kissed his cheek, did the same to Gloria, and then pulled up a chair. Demurely placing her hands in her lap, she tilted her head. “Mama says to give everyone her regards. She and Ben are off to get ice cream. Even though I love ice cream more than anything, after eavesdropping—I mean, overhearing Mama and Aunt Arabella discussing your sad plight this morning, Uncle Zayne—I thought it would be better if I came over here to offer you some much needed assistance.”

  Smiling, Zayne tilted his head. “While I appreciate your giving up a treat in order to help me, darling, I must point out the fact that you’re, well, eight.”

  Piper’s expression turned stubborn. “I helped Uncle Grayson win over Aunt Felicia, and I was only six at that time. Age needn’t be taken into account when one is dealing with matters of the heart.”

  “Good heavens, you’ve been in your Aunt Arabella’s stash of romance novels again, haven’t you, dear?” Gloria asked.

  Grinning, and not appearing at all abashed, Piper nodded. “I do enjoy a good romance, Grandmother, and because of that, I feel I’m becoming an expert on relationships.” She looked at Zayne. “You are a classic case of what a hero should not do to win the affections of the heroine.”

  “I hate to tell you this, Piper, but Agatha and I have never been involved in a romantic relationship.”

  “And that is why I insisted Mama let me come over here today. I know I’m young and that you’re just humoring me at the moment, but no one has brought up the real problem between you and Agatha.”

  “And you’ve figured out what that problem is?” Zayne asked slowly.

  “Of course I have. It’s all about feelings.”

  The collar of his shirt suddenly felt a little tight. “Feelings?”