Full Steam Ahead (14 page)

A stinging sensation radiated around the back of Nicole’s eyes. She’d done nothing to earn this woman’s faith, yet she gave it without reservation. It was humbling. Somehow Nicole managed to push a thank-you past the knot in her throat.

Mrs. Wellborn lifted her teacup to her mouth and sipped, then regarded Nicole thoughtfully over the brim. “You’ve been good for him, you know. For all of us, really, but especially for the master.”

Nicole’s pulse sped at the thought even as her mind discounted the comment as illogical. “I don’t see how you could think that. I’ve been here less than a week, and before today he avoided my company as much as possible.”

A knowing grin curved the housekeeper’s lips. “You’re young, dearie. You don’t have the experience to see what I can. Believe me, I’ve noticed a change in him since your arrival. That burden he’s been carrying for the last year and a half has been grinding him down with its weight month after month, draining his life like an insatiable leech. Then you came, and it was as if the load lightened.” As Nicole opened her mouth to respond, Mrs. Wellborn hurried to add, “And not just because you’re helping him transcribe all those notebooks of his.”

She winked at Nicole over her teacup, and Nicole immediately raised her own cup to her lips, desperate for an excuse to drop her gaze. “You give him something to think about besides those horrible boilers. Something much more uplifting, if you ask me.”

The housekeeper’s words pleased Nicole far too much. Pleased her, and plagued her with guilt. As much as she wanted to be the one to help shoulder Darius’s burden, she had a weight of her own to carry. Her father was depending on her to find him an heir, and family had to come first.

So why did she find herself hoping the wages she’d receive in ten days’ time would be so paltry they would require her to extend her stay?

N
icole took special care with her appearance the following morning, opting for her light green silk. It was the nicest of the dresses she’d brought with her, the lace lining the bodice a bit extravagant, but the relatively plain skirt making it perfectly acceptable for a country church service. The rag curls she’d slept in framed her face to advantage, and her gloves added just the right touch of formality. But even knowing she looked her best, her stomach still churned uneasily as she left her room and headed to the parlor. She had much to make up for after last night’s squabble, and Darius was not the type of man to forgive a woman’s transgressions just because she cleaned up well.

After sharing tea with Mrs. Wellborn last night, Nicole had closed herself up in her room and, instead of simply checking on the dagger to make sure it remained safely tucked away, she’d taken it out of its hiding place, unwrapped it, and stared at it until her eyes began to cross. She’d done it to remind herself of her mission, but instead of clarifying her purpose, it only left her more torn.

Did
Darius have a right to know what trouble he courted by letting her stay at Oakhaven? Surely Will and Fletcher Jenkins wouldn’t do anything to harm him or the Wellborns, even if they found her here. They wouldn’t want to risk bringing the law down on their heads. Then again, she never would have dreamed they’d attack her parents in their own home, either. If anyone at Oakhaven was harmed because of her, she’d regret her silence for the rest of her days. Yet, if she lost the Lafitte Dagger because she confided in the wrong person, her family’s legacy would be forfeit. Such a loss would kill her father for sure.

I don’t
want anyone hurt because I made a wrong choice, God
. I need all the wisdom and guidance you can spare
.

Before Nicole reached the parlor, Mrs. Wellborn met her in the hall and shooed her toward the front door. “Come along, dearie. The master doesn’t like to be late.”

Nicole immediately lengthened her stride. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . I don’t have a timepiece. . . .” Her excuses dissipated into the air. The
why
s didn’t matter. She knew how much Darius valued time, yet she’d let herself get distracted by vanity and worry—two of the most worthless pursuits known to womankind. Not exactly the best start in repairing her relationship with her employer.

They exited to the porch, and while the housekeeper paused to latch the door, Nicole hurried down to the wagon that stood hitched and ready to go. It was more of a buckboard, really, with a second bench seat bolted into the bed to allow for more passengers. Wellborn and Darius stood at the horses’ heads, conversing quietly. Nicole approached, an apology on her lips.

“I . . .” Whatever she’d been about to say vanished from her mind the moment Darius turned to face her.

Goodness and mercy
. The unkempt scientist with wrinkled trousers, rolled sleeves, and mussed hair had been replaced by a debonair gentleman handsome enough to make even the sturdiest female swoon. Clean-shaven jaw, hair dampened and combed, a pressed suit including a tailored jacket, vest complete with watch chain and fob, starched collar, and tie. The effect left her quite speechless.

“Ah, Miss Greyson. Good of you to join us.” Darius stepped around the butler and moved to her side. Inwardly, she winced at his subtle barb, yet outwardly, as he took her arm, she presented the composed facade Miss Rochester had insisted they all perfect at the Academy. He led her past the horses to the side of the wagon where a stepstool had been placed in line with the second bench seat. “Allow me to assist you.”

The man looked far too smug. Too polished. Too . . . tame. Suddenly she wanted the obsessive scientist back, the man who praised her intellect and rescued her from exploding boilers, not this . . . this . . . bland fellow.

So she prodded him.

“I take it you enjoyed your morning swim?” she asked as he handed her onto the stool.

His head reared back slightly. “How did you know I . . . ?”

That’s more
like it.
A smile curved her lips as she gathered her skirts to ascend the rest of the way. “Easily enough. I recalled how much your manners improved after your last dip in the pond.” Clasping his hand to steady herself, she boldly met his gaze. “I hope you swam long enough to ensure your manners last all the way through church. I know how much of a strain it will be for you to be imprisoned in that suit for the next few hours.”

His only reaction was a single raised brow, but as she turned away, she could have sworn she’d seen his mouth twitch as
if he were struggling to contain amusement. At least she
hoped
it was amusement. Anger wouldn’t serve her purposes nearly so well.

Darius bit his tongue to keep from grinning as Nicole hoisted herself into the wagon. He managed to keep the smile contained until he stepped aside to allow Wellborn to assist his wife. The moment he turned his back on the little minx, however, he let it loose.

She was making it awfully hard to keep up the disgruntled employer pretense that he’d started last night. He usually had no trouble being disgruntled around people, especially when he was trussed up in a jacket with ridiculously tight sleeves and a collar that made his neck itch. His bad temper was legendary in the Thornton household. ’Twas why his mother finally stopped forcing him to attend parties and why his father put him in charge of King Star’s accounting records.

Yet a few teasing comments from Nicole had him mighty close to whistling, for pity’s sake. He actually liked the chit. Outside of his sister and mother, he couldn’t remember ever actually
liking
a woman before. Oh, he’d been attracted to several and even admired a few, but he’d always felt pressured to put on an act for them, to cover up his flaws so they wouldn’t see his true self. When the act became too tedious, he simply forfeited the chase. Without much regret.

Nicole, however, had already seen his flaws. He’d paraded them before her since the moment she arrived for her interview. Yet instead of turning up her nose, she’d come to accept them as part of him, even teased him about them. It left him with no tedious act to maintain, only a growing hunger to learn more about her, to prove that he could accept her flaws,
as well. Starting with that bullheaded stubbornness that kept her from asking for help.

As he climbed into the driver’s seat and took up the reins, he leaned close to Wellborn on the seat beside him. “Tomorrow I want you to go to the landing in Liberty and see what you can learn about a family named Jenkins,” he murmured in a voice too low for Nicole to hear over his housekeeper’s chatter and the jangle of the harness as the horses set the wagon in motion. “It seems they’re the ones making trouble for our houseguest. Competitors of some sort for her father’s business. I recall her mentioning something about reading shipping manifests from a young age, so her father might be involved in freight or import/export endeavors.” Their conversation by the pond came back to him, as well, the part where she’d tried to convince him that she was unruffled by his soggy condition. “She grew up near the Gulf, so you might start by questioning the crews coming up from Galveston.”

Wellborn dipped his chin. “I’ll see to it first thing in the morning, sir.”

Darius straightened. “Thank you.”

In the meantime, he planned to keep a close eye on his new secretary. Perhaps make a few discreet inquiries of his own. And if the prospect of spending more time with her happened to speed his pulse every time he thought of it, who was he to complain? With the sadly insufficient amount of sleep he acquired each night, a rush of fast-pumping blood every now and again would help keep him alert.

And the distraction she presented? Well, he’d find a way to deal with it.

After a thirty-minute wagon ride, a two-hour church service, and another thirty minutes in the wagon on the way
home, Darius was seriously reconsidering his ability to deal with the distraction his secretary presented. On the ride to Grand Cane, he’d run countless scenarios through his head about how he could best protect her from the unknown Jenkins brothers. During church when the preacher extolled the congregation to look not only to their own interests, but to the interests of others, his first thought was of her. Even now as he steered the horses onto the drive that led to Oakhaven, he found his senses straining to eavesdrop on the ladies’ conversation behind him instead of concentrating on his driving.

“I can’t believe I just attended the church that Sam Houston’s wife established. Maman won’t believe it.” Nicole’s giddy enthusiasm reminded him for the first time of the difference in their ages. She carried herself with such maturity, self-possession, and intelligence that he’d never given much thought to her age. Yet by physical appearance, he’d guess her to be of similar age to his sister who’d just turned twenty this past year.

And the way she called her mother
Maman.
French ancestry. Another clue to have Wellborn follow up on.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Wellborn cooed. “She and her sister-in-law, Nancy Lea—she was the lady in the yellow bonnet—were the ones to suggest building a church near the Houston home. Did you meet Nancy?”

“I’m sure I did.” Nicole laughed, the light sound carrying an edge of self-consciousness. “However, all the names and faces are rather a blur right now.”

“Don’t worry about that. A few more visits, and you’ll have everyone straightened out.”

“Of course.” Nicole responded politely, but Darius heard the change in her voice, as if someone had snuffed the light
from it. And he knew she was thinking the same thing he was—she wouldn’t be here long enough to learn the names.

Darius frowned and turned his attention back to the horses, guiding them between the barn and the house and pulling them to a halt near the front porch. He had just reached for the brake lever when Mrs. Wellborn screeched.

“Thief!”

Darius whipped his head around. There. The parlor window. A boy. Halfway in, halfway out. Though in a blink he was all the way out. Out and running like blue blazes across the open field on the far side of the house.

Passing the reins to Wellborn, Darius prepared to give chase when a tiny growl echoed behind him.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Heedless of her finery, Nicole leapt over the side of the wagon as if it were three inches off the ground instead of three feet and ran after the boy at a speed he’d never witnessed in a woman.

Darius vaulted after her, immediately lamenting his Sunday garb. Running down a fleet-footed lad and a gazelle of a woman would be so much easier sans necktie and jacket. Eventually, his longer legs prevailed, catching him up to Nicole.

“I’ll get him,” he huffed as he passed her, assuming she would pull up and catch her breath. But the crazy woman never slowed, even when he passed her. Her feet continued slapping against the earth behind him.

Did she doubt his ability to apprehend the lad? The thought pricked his pride and added an extra surge of energy to his stride. “Ho, boy!” he called. “Hold up there.”

The young thief glanced over his shoulder at the shout, then tripped over something and fell sprawled on the ground. He started to scramble to his feet, but when he got on all fours, he froze.

Darius sprinted faster. Was the lad hurt? Whatever he had stolen, it wasn’t worth the child coming to harm. But as he rushed up behind the boy, his heart dropped to his stomach and he careened to a halt.

A coiled rattler lay not two feet in front of the boy. The deadly
shhhh
of the snake’s tail had the hair standing up on the back of Darius’s neck. The creature’s head lifted another inch, its forked tongue darting out as if measuring the distance of the strike.

“Easy, lad,” Darius murmured in a soft voice. “Keep still. I’ll not let him bite you.” Though how he was going to keep that rash promise, he hadn’t quite figured out. He had no pistol. No knife. There wasn’t even a decent-sized rock within arm’s reach. All he could think to do was grab the boy and fling him behind himself, praying the rattler would either miss or strike him instead of the boy.