Silken Promises

by Lisa Bingham

  “What’s the problem, Rusty?”

  As soon as they’d left the hotel, Jacob drew Rusty into the alley, where they could talk with some privacy.

  “There’s been some trouble at Exeter Prison in Wilmington.”

  Jacob didn’t need much more of an explanation than that. He knew that Judge Krupp had been moved to Exeter after an attempted prison escape at his previous location—an attempt that had succeeded in freeing his friend and long-time ally, Gerald Stone.

  “Let’s go.”

  It took nearly an hour to reach Exeter on horseback. Rusty used the time to brief Jacob on Krupp’s escape. As well as the casualties.

  Stepping into the cellblock where it had all occurred, Jacob fought the roiling of his own stomach. He’d seen death. He’d seen violence. But never in his career had he seen such senseless slaughter.

  “What leads do we have on the men who did this?”

  The deputy in charge frowned and spat on the floor. “None. We’re quite sure Gerald Stone had a hand in this. We knew he’d try to get to Krupp sooner or later.”

  “Sir!” A young guard burst into the room. “The midnight watch just discovered Bob Wilkens, one of the day guards, strangled and lying in a ditch just outside the prison. “By the looks of him, he’s been there more than a day or two.”

  Jacob sighed. “Well, at least we know how Stone got into the prison.” He surveyed the dingy walls spattered with blood, the limp bodies being wrapped in sheets and carried out of the room, where they would be taken to a long line of hearses waiting in the inner courtyard. “Who was on duty?”

  Rusty touched his arm, warning him with a glance. “Jacob, I think we need to talk,” he murmured so softly that no one else could have possibly heard him.

  Jacob had learned well enough over the years to trust his deputy. He’d learned to read his thoughts, his expressions, and his gestures. Knowing that he was about to tread on dangerous ground with his questions, he nodded, following the bowlegged lawman from the room. Dodging the prison staff and convicts who went quietly about their grisly business, they weaved through the tangled corridors, making their way steadily downward until they stopped in front of a door that read “Infirmary.”

  “Only one guard was on duty in Krupp’s cellblock last night,” Dusty said. “One of our own men. Dub Merritt.”

  A sick lump of dread wedged in Jacob’s stomach.

  “The governor hadn’t released him from his special assignment to investigate the prison. Dub got caught in the middle of a business that wasn’t his own.”

  With that, Rusty opened the door, revealing the hushed, somber interior of the room. There were five bodies lying on the cots. Five bodies covered in bloody sheets. All still, so still.

  “Take him away as well, poor bastard.” The stolidly shaped medical officer sighed, stepping away from the corpse he’d examined. “Cause of death: shot to the head.”

  Jacob’s hand clenched over his revolver. No. Not Dub. Not Dub.

  “He’s over here.”

  Jacob nearly wilted visibly when Rusty led him to another bed. One where the stained sheet rose and fell in a shallow pattern of breaths.

  Seeing their intention, the surgeon took a rag to wipe his bloody hands. “What will you be wantin’ me to do with the man?” He shook his head. “I’ve stopped the bleeding—for a time. But he needs a hospital. Real doctors.”

  When Jacob’s brow rose, he shrugged. “I’m not so blind to my own skills that I think I can help that one. I’m a simple doctor. Trained over twenty years ago on the battlefield. He deserves someone with a little more finesse.”

  “Who knows he’s here?”

  It was Rusty who answered Jacob’s question. “We’ve kept things as quiet as we can. If Stone discovers he’s left a witness…”

  Rusty didn’t need to finish his sentence. All involved knew the seriousness of their situation.

  “Send a messenger to inform Dub’s wife of what’s happened, but don’t let her return with you. Not yet.” His eyes swept the dirty room. “Not here.” He moved a few steps closer, taking Dub’s hand as if the action could infuse a little of his own strength into the arms of his colleague. “Publish a list of the dead. Put Dub’s name on it. Then arrange for one of the hearses to meet us outside the rear door. We’ll draw it into line with the others but detour once we’re out of the prison walls. We can take Dub to Holy Mercy Hospital.”

  Rusty nodded to show he’d understood. Needing no further bidding, he went on his way, leaving Jacob alone with the doctor and the wounded man.

  “Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

  “No.” Jacob hooked his foot around the leg of a rickety chair, pulling it close to the side of the bed. “No. I’m just going to sit here for a while.” Dub appeared so pale, so fragile, so weak.

  And no man should be left alone to die.

  The omnipresent midday heat followed Gerald Stone like a sluggish wake as he stepped into the rear room of the printer’s shop, taking great pleasure in the exuberant way Krupp finished his meal. It was good to see that his appetite had returned.

  “Well?”

  “I’ve been able to discover that the man being guarded at the Liberty Hotel is one Mickaleen McFee.”

  Krupp’s brows rose. “Who, pray tell, is that?”

  Stone shrugged. “I’ve no idea. No one really appears to know him. He’s a petty thief of some sort.”

  “Yet Jacob has him living in a hotel at taxpayer expense? Then he brought the woman to see him, the same woman our man in the governor’s office says has been employed to help Grey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm.” Krupp wiped his lips and took a sip of wine. “What an interesting twist in events. They must be using the man at the Liberty Hotel to hold something over the woman. To make her cooperate. Keep your eyes on him.”

  Stone nodded but didn’t leave. “We have another problem, I’m afraid.”

  Krupp’s fingers tightened around his glass, but he didn’t speak, knowing from the tone of Stone’s voice that what he had to say would be serious enough to warrant his caution.

  “Dub Merritt is alive.”

  “Who?”

  “The guard delivering meals in your cellblock during the time of the escape.”

  Krupp’s eyes narrowed. “I thought that you assured me he’d been listed as one of the dead.”

  Stone shifted uneasily. “He was. I had one of our men obtain a copy of the report. But I saw Merritt this afternoon.”

  “Where?”

  “A few of our men noted a great deal of activity in and around the back streets surrounding Exeter. The bodies were being removed, but one of the hearses made a stop at the infirmary instead. Two of our boys followed the hearse, the other came to get me. We caught up with the conveyance at Holy Mercy Hospital. I saw Dub unloaded myself. He had a companion on his journey.”

  “Who?”

  “Jacob Grey.”

  Krupp’s lips twitched ever so slightly in irritation. “How very coincidental.”

  “Grey must know we’re responsible.”

  “Of that I’m sure.”

  “What should we do?”

  Krupp’s fingers closed so tightly over the glass that it threatened to shatter. A thousand ideas tumbled through his brain and, with them, an overwhelming rage. Summoning the last dregs of control he possessed, he said, “Nothing.”

  “But—”

  “It’s too soon to do anything yet.” He took a healthy swallow of wine. “But the prison guard is another matter.” His head bobbed in a curt nod. “Another matter indeed.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll take care of him. That way Jacob will have no doubts that I have returned to haunt him like the devil he claimed I was.”

  Chapter 10

  “I want out of this assignment!”

  Jacob pounded the desk of Walter Carruthers, one of the g
overnor’s aides and the man responsible for recommending that Jacob be put in charge of investigating the counterfeiting ring. The governor had since turned the direction of the operation over to Carruthers, and in Jacob’s opinion, the man was far too zealous. He had stipulated that every detail of the mission must have his approval first—a needless waste of time and manpower.

  “I understand your position, but—”

  “No, dammit, you don’t!” Jacob pointed in the general direction of the city that waited just beyond the office windows. “The men responsible for the prison break won’t stop here, do you understand? They’ll be out for revenge.”

  “They’ll be on the first train heading toward Mexico.”

  Jacob leaned upon the shiny surface of the desk. “I know Krupp; I know Stone. Neither one of them fears the law. They were lawmen themselves. Now they’ve got some twisted vision of their own power. They think they’re above any kind of retribution, that they’ve been given the right to punish whoever and whatever they please.”

  “Now Jacob—”

  “Don’t patronize me!” He took a deep, calming breath. “I agreed to help you with this counterfeiting ring. I agreed to enlist Fiona McFee as an accomplice in the venture. But this thing with Krupp has to take precedence. I am needed elsewhere.” Each word was punctuated with the frustration he felt.

  “Why?”

  Jacob growled in frustration. “Because Krupp has killed over a dozen men in his escape. He nearly killed one of our own.”

  “What makes you think you’re the man to stop him? We do have other officers at our disposal, you know. The city has jurisdiction over this matter as well.”

  “Dammit all to hell, I know these men. I know what they’ll do next.”

  What Jacob didn’t say was that they would be coming for him. He knew that fact to his bones. He wouldn’t be so lucky as to escape their wrath now that they were free. It was his testimony that had landed them both in jail. His and Lettie’s and Ethan’s.

  He could feel his face blanch. Ethan wasn’t due back from his investigations for another day or so. As soon as he arrived, Jacob would warn him. But Lettie and the children… Lettie had played an integral part in bringing the Star Council to justice once before. She wouldn’t be safe from their forms of retribution. He had to warn her. He had to see to it that she hid somewhere safe until Krupp could be caught.

  “You will not be dismissed.” Carruthers’s voice cut through the ensuing stillness.

  Jacob’s hands clenched. “I want to speak to—”

  “I’ve spoken with the governor and apprised him of the situation. He agrees that you are needed in your current capacity.”

  Slapping the desk, Jacob whirled and paced the room. “Don’t you see? Unless you take me off this assignment, you’re only jeopardizing it. The counterfeiting is a completely separate issue. But if Stone and Krupp come searching for me while I’m on that train, all the preparation, all the hard work, will be for nothing.”

  Carruthers’s brows lined. “Do you actually think Krupp and his men value any revenge against you above their freedom?”

  “Yes!”

  Carruthers steepled his fingers and peered at Jacob over their tips. Several minutes ticked by. Long, tension-fraught minutes. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. We need you where you are.” Lifting his pen in obvious dismissal, he murmured, “Goodbye, Jacob. Have a good journey. And see to it that you bring Kensington back in irons with absolute proof of his guilt.”

  Jacob’s hands curled into fists. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  “Goodbye, Jacob.” He scrawled something on the paper he’d perused. “You’re a resourceful man. If, as you say, you think Krupp and Stone will come gunning for you, then prepare yourself. Take a few extra precautions, a few extra weapons.”

  Jacob stared, wondering how the man could be so naive. Grabbing his hat from the chair beside him, he stormed from the room, knowing that if Krupp and Stone came hunting for him…

  He’d need more than a few extra weapons.

  “Good morning, dear.”

  Fiona turned from the window, where she’d been sleepily examining the new day through a slit in the curtains.

  “We’re glad you’re up.”

  Smiling, she grunted her acquiescence. Two days had passed since Jacob had been summoned away in the middle of the night. Since then the Beasleys had proved to be excellent tutors, showing Fiona by example and by pointing to women who passed in the street what was expected of a lady of manners.

  Fiona was surprised by how little effort it took to adapt to her new role. Her success was due in large part to the fact that she’d always been good at copying people—their behavior, speech, manner of dress. But what proved even more helpful to her was the fact that she didn’t see much of Jacob during that time. There was no pressure, no nervousness on her behalf, because the man she hoped to impress was not to be found. So what did it matter that just the thought of his absence caused a hollow ache to settle into her chest?

  “We’ve a special surprise for you today,” Amelia whispered as she stepped closer.

  “Jacob is here to check your progress.”

  Jacob. The sound of his name had the power to make her heart beat a little faster, and she damned the fact. Over the past few days she’d convinced herself that the feelings she’d experienced in his arms were an aberration, a moment of whimsy. But as if to dispute such logic, a flurry of anticipation plundered her veins.

  “Shall we show him what you’ve learned? Hmm?”

  Fiona nodded, knowing that the elderly women needed a response, but she was unable to form any sort of coherent reply. Jacob was here. Here. He would see the clothes she’d bought, the manners she’d adopted.

  Would he be pleased? Her fingers twisted together, betraying the intense longing for his approval. Please, please, let him be happy with how much she’d changed.

  “Come along, dear. We need to hurry.”

  Alma nodded. “Sister and I are about to demonstrate a point.”

  “A point?”

  “Never you mind.” Alma patted her hand. “It’s simply time Jacob took off the blinders and saw things as they really are.”

  After that cryptic statement, the women helped her brush her hair and tie it with a pink ribbon. All the while, they bandied comments to each other—comments Fiona only partly understood.

  “When you talk to him, Amelia, remember the element of mystery we wish to employ. It is very important.”

  “Just a glimpse of her.”

  “Then we’ll send him packing.”

  “A man should have to wait, after all.”

  “Downstairs, I think.”

  “I’ll talk to the maître d’. A spot by the window.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Remember, Fiona—”

  She jerked to attention when they addressed her.

  “Posture, attitude, and gentility.” Alma parroted the phrase that had become their motto.

  “Posture, attitude, and gentility,” Fiona repeated. “Very good.”

  The two women beamed. “Come along.”

  They led her into the sitting room, just a step or two past the threshold, then stood in front of her like a human barricade, allowing her little more than a glimpse of the face she craved to see.

  “Jacob, you’ll have to leave.”

  Peeking over Alma’s shoulder, Fiona noted the way he glanced up from his plate of eggs and bacon. He appeared tired. Worried. Was it because of her or whatever business he’d had with Rusty?

  His eyes met hers, briefly, spontaneously, and she thought she saw a spark in their depths. One that warmed her blood. The determination she’d felt earlier surged in her breast. She would make him proud of her. She would make him happy with his decision to trust her in this task.

  “Beg pardon?” Jacob asked blankly, tearing his attention back to the sisters.

  “You’ll hav
e to leave,” Alma announced. “It isn’t proper for a bodyguard to eat in the same room as his employer. Especially when that employer is a woman.”

  He returned to his food. “We all know the true situation here. I don’t think that such precautions would prove necessary.”

  “Jacob,” Alma said sternly. “You have entrusted us with this woman’s reputation and honor. You will leave.”

  “But—”

  “Go. If you’re so hungry, you can eat in the dining room downstairs.”

  “But—”

  “Go!”

  He sighed in frustration. Then he untucked his napkin and threw it on the table. “Come on, Rusty. Maybe downstairs we can finish our meal without being nagged.”

  The two men stomped from the room, leaving Fiona with her chaperones. When she would have wriggled past them to make her way to the breakfast table, they shook their heads.

  “You’ll want something hot, dear,” Amelia offered quickly.

  “And much more filling than the bird food those men ordered for you.” Alma’s bosom expanded with a breath. “Therefore, I think we should see to your toilette and—”

  “—take you downstairs.”

  “Exactly.”

  The elderly women pushed her into the bathing room, repeating a ritual that had become familiar to Fiona over the past few days.

  Until accepting Jacob’s challenge, Fiona had never been aware of how much effort was involved in becoming a grande dame of society. She was instructed to soak for thirty minutes. “Long enough to open the pores and soften the skin,” Alma proclaimed importantly. After stepping from the scented waters, she was wrapped in a huge towel and set on a stool. Alma and Amelia went to work, coiffing her hair, rubbing oil into her skin, trimming her nails, and dabbing perfume behind her ears.

  “Which dress, Alma?”

  “The rose-striped, I believe.”

  Amelia bustled from the room, returning with her arms laden. “Here are her unmentionables. While you’re helping her into her foundations, I’ll send a chambermaid to fetch Mr. Peebles from the parlor.”

  Alma helped her get up. “Slip into your drawers and camisole, then meet me in the other room,” she ordered, closing the door.