by Jen Turano
“A frightening thought to be sure, but speaking of frightening, do you think your parents might be growing tired of exploring their artistic natures?”
“You haven’t gotten accustomed to their . . . ?”
“Unexpected gestures of fondness they’re constantly giving each other?” Murray finished for her.
Beatrix grinned. “That’s an interesting way of phrasing it, but yes.”
“While I readily admit that there’s something delightful about seeing a couple who’ve been married as long as your parents have still so obviously in love, it does take me aback when I happen to walk in on them and find them kissing or staring into each other’s eyes.”
“Rest assured, they never linger long with any new diversion, so by spring at the latest, I imagine they’ll give up art and take on something else.” She grinned. “Mother’s been talking about learning how to box, so unless you’ve begun giving boxing instructions, you’ll be safe.”
“Good to know,” Murray returned before he glanced past Beatrix and blinked. “On my word, that poor man should not be riding such a beast, what with how he doesn’t seem comfortable in the saddle, but he’s heading this way and . . . I think he’s in trouble.”
Beatrix turned in the saddle, discovering as she did so a man galloping her way, holding on to his horse for dear life, his hat long gone.
“Norman!” she yelled right as he thundered past her.
“Can’t talk now, Beatrix,” she heard him reply. “Got a bit of a situation here.”
“He’s lost all control!” Theodosia exclaimed, galloping into view and dashing past her.
Beatrix kneed her horse into motion, bending as low as she could over the sidesaddle. She then urged her horse faster when she saw Norman’s horse, one of her father’s high-spirited stallions by the name of Lightning—a horse Norman had no business attempting to ride—head for a row of hedges that was at least five feet high.
Two feet away from the shrubbery, Lightning came to an abrupt stop, and then Norman went sailing through the air and disappeared over the hedges.
While her horse, Tory, was perfectly capable of leaping the hedge, Beatrix had no idea where Norman had landed, so she reined Tory in, jumped to the ground, then rushed to the hedges, trying to peer through the branches.
“Norman? Can you hear me?”
A moan was his only response. Turning, she nodded to Murray. “Help me over?”
Murray immediately got down on all fours. “Don’t know if you’ll have enough height, but give it a go.”
Beatrix stepped up on Murray’s back, finding herself a few inches short, but then Theodosia gave her backside a hard shove, which had Beatrix moving upward at a rapid rate. She promptly tumbled over the hedge, landing directly on top of Norman, who let out an “Oomph.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, scrambling off him. “Can you tell me where you’ve been injured?”
“I think you knocked the wind out of me just now, but . . . I’ve got an odd ringing in my head.”
Bending over him, Beatrix began probing his head, concern flowing freely when she felt him begin to shake, until she realized he was laughing. Sitting back, she gave him a swat. “Is your head even injured?”
“Well, no, it might just be my ear since I landed on one of them, but the last time I told you I injured my head, you leaned over me exactly as you just did, allowing me to enjoy the most delightful scent of your perfume.”
“You really have injured your head, haven’t you?”
Norman pushed himself up to his elbows. “I don’t have an injured head, Beatrix, although I am most assuredly suffering from an injured heart, a condition brought about by my own stupidity.” He sat up before reaching out and taking hold of her hand, the action and his recent words taking her by such surprise that she didn’t even try to tug her hand from his.
“I was an idiot, but I’m here to try to make amends,” he said. “I’ve already spoken to your father and extended him a most fervent apology for even entertaining the thought that he was behind the continued threats to my research, so now I’m here to do the same with you.”
“How did my father react to your apology?”
“He was quick to accept it, although he did launch into a rather scathing lecture about how I’d mistreated you. He told me he’d be happy to take me to Grace Church so that I could seek out the advice of a man of the cloth. However, when I hesitated about that because I really wanted to seek you out without delay, he then launched into a bit about how men of science should not dismiss religion but should embrace it since God is the only explanation for life . . . or something to that effect.” He winced. “I must admit I missed some of it because your mother began whispering things to your father to add, and then your aunt Gladys chimed in, and then Edgar a moment later.”
“Did you come to New York with Aunt Gladys and Edgar?”
“No, it was one of those unexpected happenstances I’ve been experiencing ever since I met you.”
“Were you able to make amends with my father?”
“I believe so, although I’m relatively certain Gladys is still put out with me, because after I told him I wanted to borrow his fastest horse, she’s the one who convinced your father that Lightning would be a good choice for me.”
“She knows you don’t ride horses, Norman.”
He glanced at the hedges. “Clearly, although I’m getting rather proficient at tumbling off them.”
“You should have told my father that, because he would have never chosen Lightning for you.”
“I didn’t have time. As I said, I wanted to get to you quickly, but in all honesty, even if I had admitted to your father that I am less than proficient at riding a horse, there is a possibility he still would have given me Lightning, what with the way he was going on about how I mistreated his daughter.”
“Is everyone alive over there?” Theodosia called.
“We’re fine,” Norman called back. “How’s Lightning?”
“I think he’s snickering.”
“Of course he is.” Norman turned back to Beatrix and blew out a breath. “I owe you a heartfelt apology.”
“Did someone tell you to add that heartfelt business?”
“Gladys might have mentioned it.”
Beatrix pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Of course she did, but since you did travel all this way to apologize, I believe it would be churlish of me to do anything but accept it.”
Norman rubbed his head. “Perhaps I have suffered some type of head trauma, because I swear you just accepted my apology, and with absolutely no fuss.”
“I’m not a fussy kind of lady. I’m practical. I told you I wanted you to apologize to my father, which you have done, and then you apologized to me, although I’m not sure how you came to the conclusion I wasn’t guilty of the charges your mother laid against me.”
“Well, I wrote out a summary of everything, and after studying it for a full day, I—”
“Decided there wasn’t enough evidence against me?”
“No. I abandoned the summary because it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I know you—know you better than I’ve ever known anyone, including Theo—even though I’ve not known you for that long, if that makes any sense.”
Beatrix blinked to keep the unexpected tears that were threatening to blind her at bay.
What Norman had said did make sense because . . . she knew him too.
He was annoying, opinionated, and too intelligent for his own good, but he made her laugh, was incredibly kind when one least expected it, and she found him more interesting than any man she’d ever known, and . . . she was rather certain she loved him.
He’d been willing to carry her straight out of her aunt’s house when he’d thought she was in danger, and then he’d come to visit her at Marshall Field & Company, parading past her in the most outlandish jacket she’d ever seen, the sight of him in that jacket leaving her laughing. He’d also abandoned his work on
his electrical conveyance vehicle to help his little niece and her friend build a peddle-boat, and then there was Hubert.
Norman, without anyone asking, had created a new leg for a man he didn’t know, an act of kindness that spoke to his true heart, and an act that might very well have been the moment when Beatrix’s fondness for the man had turned into something more.
“It makes perfect sense,” she finally whispered when she realized he was waiting for a response.
He smiled. “That’s a relief. I really didn’t know how I’d go about explaining it any differently.” He leaned closer to her. “And now that that’s out of the way, I feel compelled to set matters completely right between us, and even though I’d intended to do this differently, I simply can’t wait.”
If she’d been standing, Beatrix was fairly certain her knees would have turned just a touch weak.
“Or perhaps you’d like for me to wait,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “From everything Theo and I have read, this type of moment is usually expected to be done in certain settings, and this”—he gestured to the hedge they were sitting beside—“doesn’t lend itself to, well, . . . an expected setting.”
“You’re not really a gentleman who does the expected.”
“True, probably because I’m a rather unusual man.”
“I’ve recently discovered I find unusual to be most appealing.”
A mere second later, Norman was drawing her to him, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss that was so unexpected and yet so completely perfect that Beatrix felt a shock run through her, one she was quite convinced felt exactly like what Norman’s electrical currents would feel like.
“While I hate to break up such a touching moment, we got a man that wants to talk to you, Mr. Nesbit. And to make sure you come quiet-like, do know that I ain’t got no problem with shooting one of you—and that one would be the woman, if that’s in question.”
Chapter 37
Norman leaned against Beatrix as they rattled along in a fast-moving carriage, his broad shoulder providing her with support as she swayed back and forth, her hands tied firmly behind her back.
Their captors were the same men they’d encountered in Chicago, although Beatrix hadn’t quite figured out how those men had been able to find them or who the man was who wanted to speak with Norman.
She certainly couldn’t tell where they were heading, not since she, as well as Norman, had scratchy bags over their heads, those bags giving off the distinct smell of potatoes.
“It’s a most peculiar predicament we’re in,” Norman said calmly, as if they were taking a leisurely carriage ride instead of a ride where the driver seemed to think that all haste was required, the carriage actually having tilted up on two wheels when he’d taken a sharp turn.
“An understatement to be sure,” she said.
“Indeed, although I now find myself wondering if you still find the unusual to be delightful, because this situation is certainly unusual, but I’m not sure how delightful you’re finding it.”
She felt the oddest urge to laugh. Only Norman would ponder such a matter while in the midst of an abduction, but that pondering spoke to the curious nature of his mind. Frankly, she found it charming, found him charming as well, even though he had the ability to be able to charm her one minute and leave her wanting to strangle him the next.
“Speaking of unusual, though,” Norman said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ve yet to finish settling matters between us, what with all the loose ends we still need to tie up, the greatest one being that of where we’re going to go from here with the affection we most certainly share for each other.”
She resisted another urge to laugh. “Forgive me, Norman, but since we’re currently facing what I have to imagine is going to be a most unpleasant meeting with some man who is now desperate to obtain your research papers, this probably is not the best time to continue with the conversation we were enjoying before we were abducted.”
“Too right it isn’t,” a voice growled from the seat opposite them. “You two should be preparing yourself for the trouble that awaits you, not behaving as if you’re in the midst of a garden party.”
“I’ve never been to a garden party,” Norman returned. “Are those normally held in gardens, or are they called garden parties to lend the occasion a certain atmosphere?”
Beatrix grinned. “You’re going to get us killed with statements like that.”
“Enough of the flirting,” the man growled again. “It’s enough to make me want to lose my lunch.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of flirting,” Beatrix shot back. “My parents are very flirtatious with each other, and they’ve been married for years. I imagine you’re only being so surly because you don’t have anyone to flirt with, but you have only yourself to blame for that. Ladies, I’ll have you know, don’t care for men who embrace criminal activity.”
“And here you were worried I would get us killed,” Norman muttered as the man across from them released a grunt. “I am curious, though, as to why we’ve been abducted.”
“My man wants your research—the real research. He’s losing patience, so me and Martin were sent off to snatch you. It was sheer luck to find you with the woman because we can use her to force you into giving our man what he wants.”
Beatrix frowned. “But why go through the bother of following Norman to New York? Wouldn’t it have been easier to abscond with his papers back in Chicago?”
“We was plannin’ on doing exactly that, but then he took off for New York.”
“How do you know he even has the papers on him?” Beatrix pressed.
Beatrix felt Norman stiffen beside her. “I, ah, might have let word about that get out down at my gentleman’s club. Didn’t want to take the chance of anyone tossing my rooms again while I was off to New York, not when Gemma and Oscar are known to wander through my workshop when I’m out of town.”
Her heart skipped a tiny beat. “That was very noble of you, even if it did result in you being abducted, something I’m sure you weren’t expecting to happen.”
“I must admit I wasn’t expecting an attack, nor did I even consider having a Pinkerton travel with me, because my decision to come to New York was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and hence, I didn’t believe anyone with skullduggery on their minds would have enough notice to successfully follow me here.”
“But you were followed, which suggests whoever is behind all this is more determined than ever to relieve you of your research papers.”
Norman shrugged. “I’m perfectly willing to hand over my papers, but only after you get set free.”
“I’m not leaving you to the mercy of some diabolical thief.”
“It’s not up for debate, and with that settled, I believe we’re slowing down.”
The moment the door to the carriage opened, Beatrix realized they were at a train station. Whistles sounded in the background, trains rumbled, and people called out to one another. The presence of so many people gave her a sense of hope, until one of her captors pulled her out of the carriage and slung her over his shoulder. He then whisked her up two steps and into some type of building, dumping her onto a surprisingly cushy surface, Norman tumbling beside her a second later.
“You weren’t supposed to bring Norman back here,” a man thundered. “You were only supposed to take the research papers from him.”
“You said nab ’em, so that’s what we did.”
“I said ‘nab them,’ meaning the papers, not Norman, you idiot, and why in the world would you bring that woman along?”
“Thought we could use Mr. Nesbit’s fondness for her to make him cooperate.”
“Which would have been a great thought except for the fact that I never wanted Norman brought to me, let alone—”
“She’s that Miss Waterbury, sir. You know, the woman that threatened to shoot me on the train, and then did shoot me in the middle of State Street. I’m lucky she didn’t kill me and lucky that tiny bullet went
clean through my shoulder.”
“You’ve succeeded in creating a complication I didn’t count on or want.”
Beatrix struggled to a sitting position, knowing she’d heard the voice of the man speaking before, but she couldn’t quite place who he was, or . . .
“Hello, Harvey,” Norman said pleasantly, sitting up as well and lending her the support of his shoulder again. “May I dare hope that this is all some grave misunderstanding and that you’re not behind all the skullduggery Beatrix and I have experienced of late?”
“Oh dear,” Beatrix muttered.
“What?” Norman asked.
“Haven’t you ever read any of those gothic novels where the hero and heroine find themselves in a dire situation but get out of that situation by keeping their wits about them?”
“An interesting question for you to pose at this particular time,” Norman returned. “But no, I’ve never read a gothic novel in my life, so you’re going to have to expand on whatever it is you’re trying to say.”
“I’m sure Miss Waterbury is of the belief that you shouldn’t have revealed to Harvey that you know who he is because now, well, you’ve left us in a bit of a pickle.”
Beatrix stiffened right as the bag covering her face was pulled off. Lifting her chin and squinting against the light, she discovered none other than Miss Amelia Burden standing before her, fury in her eyes.
“You, Miss Waterbury, are a menace,” Miss Burden spat before she yanked Norman’s bag from his head, tossed the bags to the floor, then stomped across what Beatrix realized was a private Pullman car. She stopped directly beside Harvey, who was looking at Miss Burden as if she’d lost her mind.
“Darling, are you certain it was wise to remove their bags? Now they can see us,” Harvey said, earning a roll of the eyes from Miss Burden in return.
“Since Norman recognized your voice, there was no need to have them sit there with bags over their heads. It was a troubling sight to be sure, and besides, it doesn’t matter that they’ve seen us since Norman knows it was you behind the skullduggery.”
