Kissing Comfort

by Jo Goodman

“Where does he get the money?”

  “Don’t know. I always supposed he uses the allowance you give him. And he wins sometimes, so there’s money there. He reinvests it, I guess you’d say.”

  “I would not say.”

  Comfort pulled out a chair and joined them at the table. She wrapped her hands around her cool glass. “Bram borrows money.” When both men turned to look at her, she nodded faintly. “I’m afraid so.”

  “He told you?” asked Bode.

  “No. He wouldn’t. I think I mentioned once that Bram and I didn’t discuss money. He never hinted that Black Crowne was in financial trouble.” She gave Bode a pointed look as she raised her glass and sipped. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this—I’m sure I was never meant to know—but Bram once took out a substantial loan from Jones Prescott. He arranged it privately with Uncle Tuck. I wouldn’t have known except I was closing out the books last year, and I found the entry. Usually Tuck would have handled the closing, and I wouldn’t have seen it, but he took ill for several days and Newt asked me to begin the work.”

  “How much is substantial?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  Bode swore softly. “Tucker Jones lent my brother twenty thousand?”

  “The bank lent the money,” said Comfort. “Uncle Tuck approved the loan.”

  “Thank you for clarifying.” Frustrated, Bode shoved his hand through his hair. “That makes all the difference.”

  Comfort bristled. “I’m sure Uncle Tuck didn’t know Bram was going to use the money to gamble. Bram repaid it quickly. That must have alerted Uncle Tuck, because I’m unaware of any other loans that he arranged for Bram. It could be that Bram never asked for another.”

  “At Jones Prescott,” said Bode. “But if it worked with someone as shrewd as Tucker Jones, then he’s probably done it elsewhere.”

  Comfort nodded. “That’s why I thought I should say something.”

  “God, what a mess.”

  Samuel Travers leaned back in his chair. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Bram about this?”

  “I guess I have to.” Bode wanted to press the glass to his forehead. He took a drink instead. “Tell me again when it was that Bram sent you out to find me.”

  Travers was silent as he reflected back. “A bit more than two weeks back. It was a Wednesday. Well, Thursday actually. It was after midnight. No one was in the office. Not that I expected anyone would be, but I was surprised not to find you at home.”

  “What could have happened that late that would make Bram send for me?”

  Sam shrugged. “The house was quiet. Hitchens is the one who woke me. Bram asked him to.”

  Bode stared at his glass, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “How would Bram have summoned Hitchens? And why wouldn’t Bram ring for you directly? I thought his bell pull was rigged so he could reach it from his bed.”

  “It is. I guess I assumed he didn’t want to wake anyone else.”

  “Have you ever known him to be that considerate?” He put up one hand to keep Samuel from answering what was essentially a rhetorical question. “So Hitchens went to Bram first. Is that what we’re all thinking?”

  Sam Travers said, “Maybe your mother sent Hitchens to Bram’s room.”

  “Or maybe someone came to the door,” said Comfort. “Hitchens would answer that, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Sam told her. “He always does.”

  “Still,” Comfort said, “it was terribly late. What would bring someone to the house that—” She didn’t finish; she didn’t have to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bode’s fingers tighten around his glass. He clenched his jaw. She said, “You think it had to do with me.”

  Bode nodded.

  Sam looked from Comfort to Bode and back again. “How’s that again?” When Comfort and Bode exchanged looks without answering, he said, “It’s like I was set adrift these last weeks. Could be someone needs to say something, because that Farwell’s been like a sphinx.”

  Smiling faintly, Comfort reached for Bode’s hand. “You can tell him. We can’t really discuss it around him otherwise. Go on,” she said when he hesitated. “I can bear to hear it if you can stand to tell it.”

  Slipping his hand out from under hers, Bode turned his attention back to Travers. Beginning with the attack on Comfort’s carriage, Bode told all of it. By the time he was finished, Samuel Travers had his elbows on the table and his head propped up in his hands. He looked like a man bowed at last by the weight on his shoulders.

  “It’s not your fault,” Bode said. “You couldn’t have known he was so deep in debt he was being threatened. None of us could have suspected that someone would use Comfort to force Bram’s hand.”

  Comfort turned her glass slowly. Wet circles stained the tabletop. “You have to go see your brother, Bode. We don’t even know if he’s all right. Mr. Travers doesn’t know anything that’s happened at the house since he left.”

  Sam stared at the table. “Mrs. DeLong’s been real anxious to talk to Bode. I know that much.” He glanced up and saw that Bode and Comfort were both waiting for him to go on. “She was here that Thursday afternoon, the day after the Rangers attacked the carriage. I know it because she stood at the bottom of the steps and called up for you. That’s why I shoved the bookcase over the hatch. I didn’t trust her not to make the climb. She sounded that determined. Later, when I finally talked to Mr. Farwell, I learned he told her that you didn’t want to be disturbed. He and I worked out the secret knock in case she sent someone from the house to fetch you. She did, but they didn’t try to get in, and so no one knows I’ve been hiding out here.”

  Sighing deeply, he finally raised his head. “Maybe I should have gone back, in spite of Bram telling me different. I guess I wanted to show him he needed to think before he issued orders like he was a potentator . . . a postenator . . . a—”

  “A potentate?” Comfort asked gently.

  “That’s right. One of those.”

  Bode looked at Comfort. “The first thing we need to do is get you back to your uncles. They had one job to do while we were gone, and that was to make certain everyone thought you were at home. If I can’t be here with you, then I want you there.”

  “All right. But what is it that you’re going to be doing?”

  “Killing Bram and calming Alexandra.”

  “Bode.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll come for you later, or we might even stay with Newt and Tuck for a while. I’ll know better what we should do once I’ve heard what Bram has to say.”

  “I’ll go,” she said, “because I want to see my uncles, but you shouldn’t plan on abandoning me there. I won’t stay without you. And you should expect that at this hour of the day they’ll be at the bank, not at home.”

  “You’re right. Sam will escort you to the bank.” Bode pushed back his chair and stood. He went to his drawing table, scribbled a few lines on a pad, and then tore the paper loose. He handed it to Travers. “Can you get someone to gather those things for her?”

  Sam looked at the list. “I can do this myself. I know just where to go.”

  “There’s money in a coffee tin in the pantry. Take what you think you’ll need. Can you negotiate the stairs?”

  “I can. I’m not as limber as I once was, but I still do for myself.” He got up. “Won’t take but an hour or so.”

  Comfort waited until he was gone before she went toe to toe with Bode. “Why didn’t Bram’s name come up when we were discussing threats and motives on the Demeter? You asked me questions about Newt and Tuck and never once offered Bram’s name as a suspect. I know you, Bode. You’ve been thinking about him all along. Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

  Bode didn’t flinch, but he found it was more difficult to square off against Comfort when she was hurt than when she was angry. “I wanted to be wrong,” he said quietly. “And if I was right, I needed to be sure. He’s still my brother, Comfort. Nothing he’s done changes that. After I see him today, I may nev
er speak to him again, but it doesn’t alter the fact that we’ll always be brothers. If there were other people who could have been responsible for what happened to you, I owed Bram the benefit of the doubt until all doubt was erased.”

  He saw Comfort draw in her lower lip just enough to still its trembling. Tears welled but didn’t spill. “I wanted to believe I was protecting you from his betrayal, but like everything else where Bram is concerned, it’s more complicated than that. I knew that if Bram was responsible, then I was the one who made the attack on your carriage possible.”

  She blinked and swiped impatiently at her eyes. “You? You didn’t mention that when you were telling Mr. Travers what happened.”

  “Because I wanted to say it to you first. I told Bram that I was going to meet with you and your uncles. I told him when. I told him where. Without that information, the Rangers couldn’t have attacked your carriage.”

  “That afternoon,” Comfort said. “They couldn’t have attacked that afternoon. I’ve accustomed myself to the idea that it was inevitable. Someone wanted to make Bram pay by using me. It would have happened sooner or later. I was the security on his debt.”

  “Do you understand that Bram gave someone the information that was needed to carry out the threat? No one else knew about our appointment.”

  “But it was Bram who did that, not you. You probably thought nothing of it when you told him about our meeting.”

  “I was angry with him. I stuck the knife in when I reminded him that he couldn’t get out of bed, and I twisted it by telling him I was going to see you.”

  “Still, that’s hardly Cain and Abel.”

  “I told him I was going to marry you.”

  “You did?”

  “Not precisely in those words. I told him I wouldn’t try to convince you to marry him. I said something about throwing my hat in the ring.”

  “Oh, well, that was rather Cain and Abel of you.”

  Bode’s attention was caught by the sly and wry twist of her mouth. He felt the corners of his mouth lift. She grounded him. “All right,” he said. “I’m done trying to martyr myself.”

  “Good. It doesn’t suit.” He surprised her by laying a hard, brief kiss on her lips. “What was that for?”

  “For me,” he said, unapologetic. “That was for me.”

  She gave him a small push that would have had no effect at all if he didn’t want to be moved. “What was on that list you gave to Mr. Travers?”

  He started to tell her but was interrupted by thumping and scraping noises on the stairs. “That’s your trunk they’re trying to bring up. Let me stop them until we know if we’ll be staying with your uncles.”

  Comfort removed herself to the bedroom to look around while Bode dealt with the men. As soon as he was finished with them, he went to get her. He stood in the doorway, leaned against the jamb, and watched her as she smoothed the coverlet on the bed and refolded the quilt at the foot of it. She was a study in the economy of movement, every line graceful, no twist or turn without purpose. Nothing wasted. He recalled how she’d set him back on his heels the one time they had waltzed together, the lithe, catlike motion that would have put him on the floor if she hadn’t saved him from himself.

  “Can you put me down?” he asked suddenly.

  Startled, she glanced up. “Put you down? Like an old nag, you mean?”

  “No. The way you did when we danced. Can you do that again?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.” He glanced around. There wasn’t enough clear space for a proper demonstration. “Not here, but in the other room.”

  “I suppose. You’re expecting it, so it would be more difficult, but I think I could.” She hugged the quilt to her chest. “Why would you want me to?”

  “Humor me.” He saw she was still doubtful. “Please?”

  She laid the quilt on the bed and followed him out of the room. “I wish you’d explain what you want,” she said, holding her ground when he turned to face her. “More importantly, why you want it. Do you think I’m still in danger, Bode? Is that it?” She began to circle him slowly, finding her balance and shifting her weight imperceptibly from heel to toe on her forward foot. “I hope you appreciate that these petticoats and all this drapery are an encumbrance.” Her arms lifted in an elegant arc, drawing his eyes to them. “And I did very little in the way of practicing while we were gone. Tell me, do you want me to draw back on the thrust or—”

  The moment Comfort saw his thoughts turn inward in contemplation of the answer to her question, she struck. Grabbing fistfuls of her skirts, she yanked them up around her knees and pivoted. Her kick followed so swiftly that it seemed to be part of the same motion. Her foot landed solidly against Bode’s abdomen, driving the breath from his lungs. Although he responded swiftly, Comfort had every advantage, and by the time he made a grab at her, momentum was already spinning her out of his reach. She danced away as nimbly as a water sprite.

  His arms were still outstretched when she struck again. Her first kick knocked the arm nearest to her out of the way and cleared the path for her to plant her heel solidly against his hip. He staggered sideways but didn’t fall and came at her as a boxer would, feinting, bobbing, and weaving. Comfort raised her skirts even higher, showing off a pair of lacy drawers that closely followed the line of her hips and thighs. She anticipated that his glance would drop, and he didn’t disappoint. She kicked again, and this time put her foot firmly against his groin, applying only enough pressure to let him know how much worse it could have been.

  Even if Bode’s instinct hadn’t been to double over to protect himself from a second strike, Comfort retracted her leg too fast for him to grab it. Once again, she danced out of the way and continued to circle him. Her dark eyes fairly gleamed. She was a watchful predator, seeing all of him in a single glance.

  The next time she struck, it was with the heel of her hand, and she brought it down solidly between his shoulder blades before he straightened. Bode lurched forward and was able to keep from falling by grabbing one of the chairs at the table. It wobbled noisily and then tipped backward on its rear legs. Now Comfort attacked the chair, not Bode, and when it crashed to the floor, he dropped to his knees, threw up his hands, and offered surrender.

  Standing outside of his reach, Comfort watched him warily, suspecting a trick. Bode looked less like a man defeated than one enjoying himself. There was nothing contrite about the smile he flashed at her. His amusement made her want to pick up the chair and clobber him with it. She lifted a single eyebrow and conveyed that sentiment without saying a word.

  Bode sobered, but even on his knees he couldn’t manage penitence. “Will you allow me to get up?”

  Comfort didn’t answer immediately. She straightened her overskirt, paying particular attention to the ruffled trim, and then smoothed the front of her bodice. “Perhaps if you tell me the point of that exercise.”

  “I needed to be reminded that you’re not without defenses.”

  She simply shook her head, her mouth flattening. It required some effort not to roll her eyes. She picked up the chair and slid it back into place while Bode jumped to his feet. She sensed him behind her but didn’t try to evade his embrace when his arms circled her. Leaning back against his chest, she set her arms over his.

  “I’m not afraid,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to be afraid for me.”

  “If only it were that simple.”

  “I know. I feel the same for you.”

  “Me?”

  Comfort turned her head and gave him a significant look. “As I recall, you were no more able to hold your own against the Rangers than Newt or Tuck or me.” She paused a beat. “Or the pack of young ruffians that finished what the Rangers began.”

  He made a slight grimace. “Present company excepted, I do all right when the odds are a little closer to even.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She turned in his arms and lifted her mouth to kiss his wounded smile. When she drew back, she asked, “Did
you ever reckon with the boys?”

  “No. I thought I’d be able to find at least one of them, but they disappeared like shadows at high noon.”

  She nodded, not surprised. “What about the Rangers?”

  Bode’s eyes darted sideways.

  “Bode?”

  “The men standing guard outside your room at the concert saloon?”

  “Yes? What about them?”

  “I’m fairly certain they were two of my attackers. You understand, there wasn’t any time to exchange pleasantries, but I like to think I got some of my own back.”

  Remembering the breadth and brawn of the pair who all but carried her up the saloon’s stairs, Comfort couldn’t quite contain a shiver. She’d been helpless, but Bode had summarily dispatched them. Feeling the need to move and shake off her unease, she separated herself from Bode and collected the glasses on the table. “I’ve been thinking about the attack,” she said. “The one against you, not me.”

  “So have I.”

  “You have?”

  “For a quite a while.” He watched her set the glasses in the sink and waited until she turned to face him before he cocked an inquiring eyebrow. “Do you want to tell me?”

  “It’s occurred to me that the attack on you wasn’t random. I’ve been wondering if the Rangers were waiting for you.”

  “You’re thinking that Bram was responsible.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Bode, but yes.”

  He exhaled softly. “It’s all right. I suspected him almost at once.”

  “The night of the party?”

  Bode nodded. “When I learned about your engagement, I began to think that Bram’s announcement wasn’t the whim of a moment. He only wanted to convince you that it was. We expect him to act on impulse, so it wasn’t hard for him to make us believe that he’d done it again, but I believe he had the attack and the announcement planned. You said it earlier. You were the collateral on Bram’s debt. He made you his security that evening.”

  “How much do you think he owes, Bode?”

  “It’s hard to say.”

  “More than a thousand?”

  Bode’s short chuckle was humorless. “Conservatively? With interest on the debt, I’d say roughly a hundred thousand now.”