A Worthy Pursuit (34 page)

Stone fought a grin at her beleaguered tone and grunted in response. He had a role to play, too. And with the house drawing nearer, it was high time he got into character.

Thinking of Dorchester’s plans to use Lily’s remarkable talents for illicit gain was all it took to blacken his mood and harden his mouth into a scowl. By the time he reached the front of Dorchester Hall, he’d worked up a good head of steam. The flash of black he’d caught in his peripheral vision only stirred the pot.

The veiled woman in widow’s weeds sitting so stiffly on the bench across the street, a book open in her lap, the wind ruffling the pages, should never have been accused of kidnapping and hunted down like a criminal when she’d been the legal guardian all the while. If Dorchester had hired Franklin first . . . If he had found her . . . It didn’t bear contemplating.

With a growl vibrating in his throat, Stone swung down off his horse, one arm still locked around Lily’s middle. She squealed, striking out with her legs, but he tucked her under his arm horizontally so her shoes kicked harmlessly behind him. He flicked the reins of his horse through the loop on the wrought-iron hitching post at the edge of the walkway then tramped up the gravel path.

Before he’d even reached the stone steps leading to the entrance, the door opened. A butler in suit and tie looked down his nose at Stone’s travel-stained clothes and squirming package.

“Mr. Hammond to see Mr. Dorchester,” Stone announced in a thunderous voice as he climbed the steps, ignoring the servant’s hauteur. “I’m expected.”

He pushed his way past the flummoxed butler and strode into the marble-floored entryway as if he owned the place.

“Dorchester!” Stone hollered even as he quickly refreshed his memory on the layout of the house. Grand staircase to the upper floor. Kitchen behind. Dining room to the left. Sitting room to the front of that. Formal parlor, front right. Study behind. “I’ve come for my fee!”

“Put me down!” Lily demanded, her voice high-pitched and furious. “I told you. Mama said I was to live with Miss Lottie, not Grandfather.”

Stone squeezed her ribs, a reminder to hold her tongue. He didn’t want her drawing undue attention to herself. He needed
to be the one drawing the fire. Although he had to admit, her shrieking had done a good job of drawing an audience. The housekeeper had emerged from the kitchen to see what all of the commotion was about, as had an upstairs maid who hung over the balustrade gawking at the goings-on downstairs.

“Dorchester,” Stone called through a clenched jaw, “I’ve got your brat. Come fetch her before I decide to teach her some manners.”

“I am
not
a brat!” Lily’s fist collided with Stone’s thigh. “I’m just not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be with Miss Lottie.”

So much for him doin’ the talking.

“Really, Mr. Hammond.” The housekeeper ventured into the foyer, her hands wringing but her chin high. “Must you cart the young mistress around like a sack of potatoes? Hand her over to me. I’ll see to her.”

The woman had more gumption than Stone had expected from one of Dorchester’s staff. It spoke well of her. Standing up for the child and all. It was good to know the girl had an ally with backbone in the house. ’Course, whether that backbone would still be standin’ straight when facing Dorchester was another matter altogether.

Stone couldn’t let the woman take Lily yet, though, not until Dorchester showed. So he shot a harsh scowl at her. “If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I think I’ll just hang on to her a little longer.” The housekeeper ceased her cautious advance, her eyes widening at his hard tone. “Dorchester owes me a pretty penny for retrieving this package. I ain’t lettin’ her go for anyone but the man himself.”

“Well, you certainly took your own sweet time about it, Hammond.”

Dorchester. Finally.

Stone swiveled toward his employer’s voice. The man had just opened the study door, his hand still on the latch, his eyes cold and assessing. Stone narrowed his own gaze.

“Maybe if you hadn’t lied to me about the circumstances surrounding the package’s disappearance,” he said, swinging Lily around to stand on her feet, “it wouldn’t have taken so long. The schoolmarm was a complication I didn’t need.” He kept a firm hand on Lily’s shoulder, both as a reassurance to her and a show of strength to Dorchester.

The man shrugged as if twisting the truth was of no consequence. “What is one female against a man of your reputation?” Dorchester stepped through the doorway, his shoes sliding gracefully over the marble floor. “Though I’m quite disappointed in your level of efficiency. I expected better from you. Why, as soon as Franklin located the girl, he had her in hand by the next day. It took you weeks.”

Dorchester raised a brow in challenge even as a second man stepped out of the study. Franklin.

Stone’s scowl deepened. So he had another gun to deal with. And one with a grudge, judging by the dark gaze aimed in his direction.

“You hired me because I’m the best.” Stone emphasized the last word as he eased his duster back behind his holster, making sure his draw would be unhindered while giving Franklin a little reminder about who was in charge. “And one of the things that makes me
the best
is the fact that I work within the law. When I retrieve something, you can be sure there’ll be no suspicious lawmen showing up at your door askin’ embarrassing questions or arresting you on charges that could do serious harm to your reputation. If I hadn’t been there to smooth things over with the teacher, you can bet there would have been a company of Texas Rangers breathin’ down your neck before Franklin could have
even made his delivery. Train might be fast, but last I checked, telegraph is still faster.”

Dorchester glared over his shoulder at Franklin before turning back to Stone. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I hired the right man for the job, isn’t it?”

Stone could feel the heat of Franklin’s fury scorching the air between them, but he refused to acknowledge it, keeping his focus on Dorchester.

“And my fee?” Stone demanded.

“We’ll discuss that in a moment, after I assure myself that my darling granddaughter is unharmed.” Dorchester looked to Lily for the first time, crouching down in front of her and reaching for her hands.

Lily shied away from him, and for a moment Stone worried that she’d turn to him for comfort. Not that his gut wasn’t screamin’ at him to put himself between her and her scoundrel of a grandfather. He didn’t want the foul piece of filth touching her, either, but they both had to ignore their instincts and play the roles they’d been assigned.

“Lily, sweetheart. I’ve been so worried about you.”

So worried that he hadn’t even glanced at her once for the past five minutes. Stone’s molars ground together at the back of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” she choked out. “Can I go back to Miss Lottie now?” The plaintive note in her voice sounded far too genuine for Stone’s peace of mind. She spoke to her grandfather, but Stone couldn’t shake the feeling that she meant the question for him as well. Brave girl that she was, though, she never broke character.

Dorchester frowned at her question but quickly masked his displeasure with a doting smile, one about as genuine as a string of paste jewels.

“No, dear. You’ll be staying with me. With your
family
. Miss Lottie meant well, I’m sure, but your place is here.” He made a gesture with his hand, encompassing all the grandeur surrounding them. “You’ll have everything a girl could ever want. Books. Dolls. Fancy dresses.” He paused then winked at her. “A pony.”

“But I don’t want a pony. I want Miss Lottie! Mama said I was supposed to stay with her.”

Dorchester made no effort to hide his frown this time. He stood abruptly and grabbed Lily’s arm, dragging her away from Stone. “Well, your mother was wrong. You are to stay with me, and that’s the end of the matter. I’ll hear no argument, young lady. Understand?”

“Y-yes, Grandfather.”

It took all the control Stone could muster not to slam his fist into Dorchester’s jaw. He maintained his impatient hireling veneer by the thinnest of threads.

Dorchester snapped his fingers and called his housekeeper over. “See to the child, Mrs. Johnson. No doubt she is overtired from her journey. I’m sure she’ll be more agreeable after a nap.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Dorchester.” The woman hurried forward and wrapped a motherly arm about Lily’s shoulders. “Come on, little one. You’ll like all the new toys your grandfather bought for you. He’s had your room ready and waiting for weeks now, hoping you’d come home.”

Lily let herself be drawn away, but not without casting a glance over her shoulder at Stone as she went. He wanted to smile or wink or do
something
to show his support, but with Dorchester looking on, he didn’t dare.

Mrs. Johnson rambled on as she led Lily up the stairs. “That tabby you were so fond of is probably sunning himself in your bedroom window right now. It’s his favorite room in the house, you know.”

Lily turned back to the housekeeper, a tiny smile playing at her lips. She didn’t say anything, but her steps lightened a bit as she headed up the staircase.

Forcing his gaze away from Lily, Stone turned back to Dorchester and glared at him as if he were facing the man at ten paces, hand hovering over his pistol, about to draw. Hard. Arrogant. Unmovable.

“Now that the brat’s out of the way,” he growled, “let’s talk about my fee.”

34

Charlotte gripped the open book in her lap as if it were her only anchor in a gale-force wind despite the fact that nary a breeze stirred the Houston humidity. Perspiration trickled down her neck as her eyes scanned the upper balcony. She wasn’t to move from her bench until Mr. Ashe gave the signal.

Lily and Stone had been inside Dorchester’s house for days. All right, it was probably less than fifteen minutes, but still, it was too long. Too long for her to sit on this wretched bench and do nothing.

Charlotte’s fingers curled around the edges of the book even harder as she willed herself to remain still. She squinted, trying to get a better view of the tree that was supposed to be harboring their ally. She couldn’t see a thing. Infernal veil. It hid her identity well enough, but it impeded her vision to a deplorable degree. How was she supposed to carry out her part of the plan if she couldn’t see the signal when it was given?

Robert Ashe was a tall man. Surely she’d be able to make
out his form when he emerged from the tree, even with her veil in place. But shouldn’t he have made his move by now? Had his leg given out? She’d noticed his limp during their brief meeting last night. What if he wasn’t able to get to Lily if she needed him?

Even as the questions swirled in her mind, a dark shape separated itself from the branches of the hickory tree and lithely dropped onto the upstairs balcony.

Charlotte sucked in a breath, waiting for a cry of alarm that would spell disaster for them all. But no servant rushed to throw up a window sash or yell out a warning. Respect for the Ranger blossomed within Charlotte. He hadn’t made a sound. Bad leg and all.

Mr. Ashe crept toward the back of the house, checking each window before moving past. Only then did she notice the hitch in his stride. He finally reached the third window and crouched beside it, waiting. A moment later, he stood tall and waved his arm over his head.

The signal! Lily must be safely in her room.

Charlotte leapt to her feet, her heartbeat taking off at full gallop. She dropped the unread book to the bench and focused her attention on the door across the street. The door that separated her from Lily. From Stone. Her chest heaved as her breathing came in shallow rasps. She could do this.

Go, Charlotte!

In a flurry, she tore the veiled hat from her head, ignoring the pain as pins pulled out hair. For once, she made no move to repair her coiffure. Gaze locked on the door, she marched across the street, heedless of the loose tresses that hung unevenly around her face. She wouldn’t be tamping them down. Nor would she squelch her unbecoming emotions—her disgust of Dorchester, her rage over his involving Lily in his criminal
schemes. The fetters were off and this horse was about to run roughshod over anything she found in her way.

Her stride quickened until she actually ran. Ran up to the door and burst through without a single knock to announce her arrival.

“Where is she?” Charlotte yelled, her throat scratching at the volume she’d never before attempted. She glanced quickly around the foyer, spotting Stone, Dorchester, and a third man standing to the right of the large central staircase. All three men turned to stare at her, Stone with cold indifference, Dorchester with shock dulling to impatience, and the third man with a smirk.

Charlotte ran at Stone like a bull toward a matador. “Where’s my daughter, you cold-hearted scoundrel?” She collided with his chest and pummeled him with her fists, wishing he were Dorchester.

The third man chuckled. “Guess she’s not so sweet on you after all, huh, Stone?”

“Shut up, Franklin.” Stone shoved her away from him and directly into Dorchester’s path.

“Franklin? The man who kidnapped my Lily?” Charlotte screeched and lunged toward him, claws bared. “I ought to scratch your eyes out for what you did!”

Franklin sidestepped her reach, so she altered course. A porcelain vase filled with red roses stood on a small mahogany table beneath a large mirror. It looked delicate, expensive. Charlotte smiled. Good.

She snatched the vase from the table, flowers and all, and hurled it at Franklin’s head.

“Watch it, lady!” Franklin dodged to the side and threw up an arm. The vase cracked against his elbow with a satisfying
thunk
before smashing upon the marble floor. Shards
flew everywhere. Spilled water splashed the trousers of both Dorchester and Franklin, setting off a string of curses foul enough to put her to the blush. But the vulgarity only fueled her indignation. So she went for the table next, grabbing it up by the leg closest to her and flinging it with all her might at the men—men who no longer included Stone, she was happy to see.