Grace (The Marriage Market Book 2) (4 page)

"And you had other things to think about, is that it?" he asked.

              "Yes, well, Hugh, we've hardly left the house," she insisted, blushing wildly. "I completely forgot I asked Alice to mail those letters."

              "So, should I expect an irate father at my door, demanding justice? Or perhaps Miss Lane will arrive to defend your honor with her pistol."

"How do you know about Effie and her pistols?" Amelia gasped.

              "She sent me a picture of her holding a rather large firearm, along with a letter of thinly veiled threats.

"She didn't?"

"Yes, my love, she did. It arrived while we were in San Francisco and Sam opened it."

"Oh no," Amelia groaned, a hand to her cheek.

"Are all of your friends prone to violence?"

              "Effie isn't prone to violence. She's just very protective of those she cares about. Did Sam write back to her?"

              "Yes he did, and he invited her to come to Seattle to see for herself that you were being well cared for. He also informed her that should she arrive with a pistol in hand she should be prepared for some old fashioned discipline," he said, resting his hip on the desk.

"That may have been a mistake," Amelia said, rounding the desk and pacing in front of it.

After several trips back and forth, Hugh snagged her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

"Is your friend so fearsome then?" he teased.

              "Not fearsome, but fearless. Effie doesn't care for being bossed around. She may have taken his letter as a challenge." Looking up at her husband's face it was clear to Amelia he wasn't taking it very seriously and that worried her. "I need to write the letters immediately," she said, pulling away from him.

              "By all means, get to work," Hugh agreed, patting her bottom firmly. "It seems my life may be at risk."

              "This isn't funny," she insisted primly, pulling her robe closed as his eyes traveled over her naked body.

              "No, it certainly isn't," he agreed. "It will be even less so if Miss Lane shows up and Samuel finds himself at the end of a gun barrel. If that happens, I don't think Miss Lane will be the only one on the receiving end of a damn good spanking."

"You don't?"

"I'm certain of it," he promised with his eyes full of warning.

"Oh… well I better get busy."

              "You do that and while you're at, it don't forget to mention I'm not an ogre," he suggested as he moved to the doorway.

              "No, I won't. I'll tell them you're a wonderful husband… even if you do spank me," she finished with a whisper as she took up her pen.

Hugh smiled, watching her dark hair spill onto the desk as she wrote furiously.

"And Amelia…"

"Yes."

"You might mention that you particularly enjoy the marriage bed," he offered as he walked away laughing.

"Hugh!"

Effie smiled and patted Grace's hand as she smoothed her skirts.

              "See, I told you everything would be fine. We're on our way, in our own cozy compartment and all without drawing any attention. By the time your parents realize you've gone, it will be too late to do anything about it. You even managed to bring enough clothes to last until we get to San Francisco."

              "We're not there yet," Grace replied watching out the window as they pulled out of the station. "I won't feel safe until we get past Chicago. If mother does hire a detective, she'll get in touch with the Pinkerton's at the main office I would imagine."

              "Don't fret so," Effie insisted. "If she does, they'll be looking for Miss Grace Wentworth, not Mrs. Lacy Brown who is on her way to reunite with her husband at Fort Omaha. Did you decide on a name for the imaginary man in your life?" she teased.

"I think Michael; Corporal Michael Brown has a nice ring to it."

              "Well it's a heck of a lot better than Horace Remington," Effie agreed rather abruptly. "So far that's the only thing I regret about this trip," she continued as she took two oranges out of her bag and handed one to Grace. "I really would have liked to give that scoundrel a piece of my mind. As it is, I only got to write a short note to his Mama."

"Effie, you didn't?" Grace gasped.

"I most certainly did. It should be delivered this morning by special messenger."

              "Oh Lord, what did you say?" Grace's face paled as she watched her friend calmly peeling her orange.

              "I simply told her the truth of the matter regarding your engagement to Horace," Effie replied before popping a piece of fruit into her mouth.

"And?"

              "I may have mentioned it would behoove her to do everything she could to stop your mother from pursuing you as you need a few weeks away to get over the physical indignities you'd suffered at the hands of the villainous blackguard she calls a son," Effie said happily.

Grace's laugh bubbled out while her friend continued to pick at her breakfast.

              "I think I also might have mentioned that if you were forced to return home before you are fully recovered from the unfortunate experience, the entire matter might somehow become public knowledge, thus tarnishing the Remington family name for generations to come."

              Sinking back against her seat, Grace studied Effie in awe. She was amazing, fearless and had more bravado than anyone she'd ever met. Taking a section of her orange, she chewed thoughtfully.

              "That may be enough to stop Mother.  She certainly admires Mrs. Remington and her social connections, not to mention their enormous fortune. Of course, she'll be devastated knowing this will end forever any hopes she envisioned of a match between Horace and I. Even if that is the only thing that comes of this, I'll be eternally grateful to you."

              "Don't count your chickens, Grace. Horace Remington is not a man who likes to lose and certainly not one used to being denied. For some reason he set his sights on you, and I don't mean that in a cruel or insulting way. You're certainly prettier than you realize and far too good for him, but this may not be enough to make him give up his pursuit. He's a wily devil and may be able to convince your mother and his that this was simply a lover's spat. You should know if he does come after you, I shall have no compunction about using my derringer.

              "Come on, the dining car should have cleared out by now. Let's go and get some breakfast."

Rising, Grace followed her.

              In the dining room, they made the acquaintance of Mrs. Myrtle, a matronly widow returning to her home in Albany after an extended visit to the coast.

              "Mrs. Myrtle, I wonder if you might help us," Effie began as they sipped their hot chocolate. "My friend, Mrs. Brown has been ill and as a result her hair has become quite thin, ouch! Excuse me, I must have bumped my leg on the table," she continued, glaring at Grace. "As I was saying, we wondered if you might know of a wigmaker in Albany who has ready-made pieces for just such a situation. You see, she is going to Fort Omaha to meet her husband whom she has not seen in nearly a year. It would be a shame if she didn't look her best."

              "Oh my dear," Mrs. Myrtle replied sympathetically as she turned her eyes to Grace. "I understand completely. Why I've suffered that same thing for years. I'll bet you didn't know this was a wig?" she whispered, patting her tightly wound silver curls.

              "No," Effie exclaimed. "Why I never would have guessed, not in a million years. Your hair is lovely, just lovely."

              "Thank you," Mrs. Myrtle said as she preened. "I've tried several in the city, but the best by far is Madam Fifi and her shop is not far from the train station. I'd be delighted to drop you there once we arrive in Albany. My carriage will be waiting and it's not out of my way. How long do you have before your train leaves for Chicago?"

              "A little over two hours, I believe," Effie replied. "Do you think that will be enough time?"

              "Oh my yes. Madam Fifi has quite a selection available. I'm sure Mrs. Brown will be able to find something that suits her in no time at all. Now don't you fret, Mrs. Brown," Mrs. Myrtle continued as she patted Grace's hand, "you'll look as lovely as a new bride with one of Madam Fifi's creations."

              "Thank you so much," Effie said, standing when Mrs. Myrtle took her leave. "We'll meet you on the platform as soon as the train pulls into the station."

              "That's fine, dear. It's been ever so nice meeting you both." In a cloud of dusting powder, she took her leave.

"A wig?" Grace hissed when Effie sat back down.

"Yes and why did you kick me? I'm only thinking of you."

"Sorry, I guess it just surprised me," Grace murmured.

              "I've been thinking. Changing your name is smart, but there's no way we can disguise that red hair. In fact, by now they know we're traveling together, or at least suspect it. A blonde and a redhead of a certain age will be hard to miss. I think this is the perfect solution. At least we won't be so easily recognized."

"You're right, as usual," Grace said admiringly. "Why do I never think of these things?"

              "You don't have a sneaky, suspicious nature," Effie said with a cheeky grin. "I, on the other hand, am exceedingly mistrustful of arrogant, overbearing men such as Horace Remington and Samuel Jordon who make a habit of throwing their weight around. Trust me, Gracie-Lacy, I will get you to Seattle one way or another. Let's go back to our compartment. We should be in Albany in a few hours."

              The two young women who exited Madam Fifi's shop would not have been recognized by their own parents and probably not by Amelia either. Grace sported a stylish new hat perched rakishly atop her black upswept hair. Long ringlets dangled over one shoulder, plump circlets of shiny curls bounced with each step she took. Her blue eyes sparkled, set off by her fair complexion and the beauty patch Madam affixed to her cheek. A parasol twirled over her other shoulder and with her tall, curvy frame, it was not likely she would go unnoticed.

              Effie trailed behind, her blonde hair covered with a mousey brown wig, giving her a slightly frazzled look. Useless spectacles rested on the end of her nose and a fringed shawl dangled from her shoulders.

              "If I didn't know it was you, I wouldn't believe it," Effie giggled as she hailed a carriage. "It's incredible."

              "I know," Grace agreed. "Madam even gave me some dark powder to brush on my eyebrows. I just feel bad you had to make yourself unattractive. It's not really fair."

              "Nonsense, we needed to change your looks and there's no sense drawing attention we don't want. Besides, I think it's kind of funny. You look so incredibly beautiful I almost wish Horace could see you now so he'd know just what he lost by being such a jackass."

"But I only look like this because of Madam Fifi. I'm not beautiful as myself."

              "Oh, shut up, Lacy Brown," Effie said. As the driver opened the carriage door, she shoved Grace in.

* * * * *

              Jonah Blackthorn tucked the file under his arm and walked out of the office of the Pinkerton Detective Agency with a spring in his step. This was his last case for the agency, and in his opinion, it couldn't be completed soon enough. He'd been with the company for nearly ten years and had his fill of dealing with criminals and bureaucracy. It was time to move on.

              He had visions of his last case being a difficult one that would delay his leaving for several months, but for once, the fates smiled on him. Instead of chasing bank robbers to the boarder of Mexico, he had one mission—to find the pampered, run-away daughter of a frantic New England socialite. It seemed Miss Grace Wentworth was not in favor of her recent engagement and had left town in a hurry.

              Jonah smiled as he hurried to his rooms to pack a bag. There were several things working behind the scenes in his favor. For one thing, his objective was young, inexperienced in the ways of the real world and should be easy to apprehend once he located her. She was also likely headed west, a direction he personally wanted to go. If he found her before he reached San Francisco, he would turn her over to the proper authorities and they could hold the little brat until her parents came to fetch her. Then he would move on to Seattle and look up some good friends. They had contacted him about a job months ago but he'd been unable to get away. Now, he'd be as free as a bird as soon as he tied up this little domestic disagreement.

              The fact that Miss Wentworth was a redhead was icing on the cake. Jonah always had an eye for flaming locks and could spot them a mile away. It was believed she was traveling with a small blonde woman, a Miss Lane, but Jonah had no reason to detain her. Apparently, her parents were not concerned, so either Miss Lane was not betrothed to a wealthy man or her parents felt she could take care of her herself. It was also possible they were glad to be rid of her for a while, but that was not his concern. No, his assignment was to arrange Miss Wentworth's return to the bosom of her family and that was precisely what he was going to do.

              Slapping his Stetson on his head, he checked his gun and picked up his valise. The first place to check was the train station. Miss Wentworth had been missing for three days and if she were riding the rail, she'd be in Chicago any moment. If he couldn't spot her, he'd purchase a ticket to Omaha and try to catch up with her there, or maybe wait around for a few days in case she'd been delayed. He knew it was a long shot, thinking he'd accidentally run into his prey, but he was a man who trusted his instincts and they hadn't failed him yet. With any luck, he'd be able to take care of his little problem and be sailing into Puget Sound in a few weeks.

              Jonah had a tidy little bundle of reward money tucked away, and if he were successful, he would add to it considerably after this. It seemed Miss Wentworth's fiancée was willing to pay an extra five thousand dollars to have her returned safely. Hell, he'd pursued killers who weren't worth that much. How much trouble could one runaway girl and her sidekick be?

              Arriving at the depot, he spent the next two hours watching passengers exit the cars, either at the end of their journey or to take a few minutes to walk the kinks out. Several women caught his eye, particularly a striking brunette. She and her traveling companion re-boarded the train nearly at the last moment, giggling as they juggled their parcels.

"I just had to buy it," the brunette insisted.

              "You should save your money and let me pay on this trip, Grace," the other woman scolded. "I know she'll love it, any hat with tiny birds isn't safe if she's spots it, but still, you don't know what will happen."

              "Excuse me, let me help you with those packages," Jonah offered after tipping his hat. Taking the hat box and two tied parcels out of their hands, he followed them onto the train. "If you just lead the way to your seats, I'll have the porter store these for you."

              "It's quite all right," Effie replied, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. "We have a compartment right down here." Leading the way, she slid open the door, ushered Grace inside and took the items, setting them down. "Thank you, but we can manage now."

              "Pardon me for being presumptuous, but did I hear you call this lovely lady Grace? It was my mother's name and I'm partial to it," he sighed. "Sadly, she passed while I was away on business and ever since, I've deeply regretted I couldn't be by her side in her last moments."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," Grace said sadly. "It must have been quite a blow to you."

              "Yes, I'm sorry too," Effie said shortly, "but you were mistaken. My friend's name is Lacy, Mrs.…"

"Miss," Grace corrected her, stepping on her foot. "Miss Lacy Brown and you are?"

              "Jonah Blackthorn, at your service." Taking Grace's hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her glove. Reaching for Effie's hand, he hid his smile when she took it and gave it a firm shake.