Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (19 page)

His practiced moves had duped her. Moves he’d probably perfected on the likes of Priscilla Conti, among other women during his collegiate days. Really, the man was a bother. Not just a skunk, but a super skunk. He’d tricked her and toyed with her and tossed her aside. James could go ahead and crawl right back to the gypsy-eyed Prissy for all Ellen cared.

Even if it wasn’t true, it felt good to think all that.

She peeked over at him. Stress lines marred the skin around his closed eyes, and her heart squeezed.

Besides, Carter could be taught to kiss better. All she and he required was some practice together.

When the carriage came to a lurching stop behind her aunt’s address, Ellen didn’t wait for James to help her down. Before he opened his eyes, she bolted out of the cab and ran to the servant’s entrance. Fumbling through the dark kitchen, she succeeded in banging her left elbow, her hip, and both knees on shadowed objects. The whole scene produced loud exclamations and no small amount of racket.

Hands splayed like a blind woman, she pushed the door open to the main area of the house. Lamps still burned in the hallway.
Odd
. She couldn’t imagine why someone would still be awake.

A mirror tossed her reflection back in her face. Mud clear to her knees, swollen red marks around her wrists, tear stains on her cheeks, and holes ripped in her dress. If she saw someone who looked like her begging near the storefronts, she would have tossed a couple coins in their cup. How would she scrub up and hide the evidence without rousing anyone?

But the sound of a charging buffalo—otherwise known as Uncle Garret—snapped her from her thoughts.

He barreled down the hall, eyes trained on her. His chin waggled in time with his steps. “Where in tarnation have you been?”

“Uncle Garret, what are you doing awake at this hour?” She tried to tuck the loose hair back into the bun under her mobcap.

“I could ask you the same question.” He came to a stop a foot from her and heaved to catch his breath. “I
demand
to know where you have been.”

None of her options for answers—a tavern, the vice-district, the bubbly branch of the river, or an anarchist meeting—seemed appropriate to quell her uncle’s flared nostrils.

“Uncle.” Ellen laid a hand on his arm. “I think you are unwell. Let’s speak in the morning.”

She attempted to brush past him, but he seized her arm and wrenched her back in front of him. “This is my house and we do things by my schedule.” He released her.

Ellen rubbed her arm.

“Now,” he began again, his voice calmer, “tell me why, when I sent the maid to fetch you hours ago, she came back telling me that you were not in your bed.”

“You sent for me?”

“Your aunt is unwell and wished for your company.”

“I’ll go to her now.” Ellen tried to get around him again, but he stepped in her way.

“Not so fast. You will tell me whom you’ve been gallivanting with.”

What could be wrong with Aunt Louisa? “With James. I was with James.”

Just then a very James-sounding
ouch
came from the kitchen.

A growl rumbled from Uncle Garrett’s chest, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ll kill him.”

Chicago, April 30, 1886

James rubbed his knee, muttering. How many times could the fool thing get bashed in one night?

By all accounts, he deserved the ache in his neck and back, and the hot pain blistering through his shoulders. But that’s not what hurt the worst … Ellen would never look at him the same. Not after tonight.

I don’t want you.

Utter rubbish.

He wanted her all right … wanted her to have a full and safe future, even if that meant losing her. If anything ever happened to her, that pain would hurt more than lying to her had.

With little energy left to even drag his feet, James pushed through the kitchen door only to be met by a shocked Ellen and her fuming uncle.

“Mr. Danby.” James inclined his head, although he knew the gesture would garner him very few points at such an hour in the morning.

Mr. Danby surged forward. “What have you done to my niece?” In a flash, he hauled James against the wall by the front of his shirt. The old man’s second chin grew red as he shook.

James’s feet dangled a few inches above the floor. Who knew the old man had the strength?

“Uncle, no!” Ellen slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes bulging.

Mr. Danby clamped his brawny fingers around James’s throat, blocking his airway. “You impertinent little prig.”

James attempted to shove Mr. Danby’s hand away, gulping for breath. His head spun and heat seared his lungs.

Ellen yanked on her uncle’s arm. “Stop! You’ll kill him.”

Mr. Danby dropped his hold and straightened his jacket. “Fool girl. That’s precisely my intent. Go to your room, I’ll deal with you later.”

James slumped to the ground, rubbing his neck and gasping for air.

Fisting her hands, Ellen stepped between her uncle and James. “I will not.”

“This man—” Mr. Danby pointed at James and James had enough intellect to flinch—“takes you out of the home of your relations in the middle of the night without our knowledge. He returns you in a state of complete duress, wearing a getup that I can only assume was for his ill gain in some manner, and you want me to pretend it didn’t happen?”

Ellen held her palms toward her uncle. “But it’s not like that at all. James holds no fault. I followed him. He didn’t invite me, and he didn’t want me along on his journey tonight. I’m to blame. If you want to wring someone’s neck, then it should be mine.”

“Step aside, Ellen.” Her uncle shoved her out of the way. “The blame falls on him. A ruined reputation always falls on a man.”

Ellen crossed her arms. “But I—”

Neck still stinging, James found his feet and used the wall to stand. “Your uncle is right. Any fault falls squarely on me. I’ll accept whatever punishment he sees fit.” Hopefully Mr. Danby was done with wanting to kill him….

Mr. Danby jutted his finger, thumping James in the chest. “Then here and now, choose your course. You can announce an engagement to Ellen tomorrow morning—if you do so, we’ll forget about this lapse in your judgment and welcome you into the family—or leave this instant and never see her again.”

James’s heart beat a death march.

He looked at Ellen, drinking in the sight of her. Her pink cheeks and long lashes, her softness and raven hair—he memorized every detail. Even after everything she’d been through tonight, she was still the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. More than that, her teasing tempered him. And he loved the honest, open way she asked him questions she’d never voice to anyone else.

Marry her? Did dreams really come true so easily?

He shot out a long breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

No. He couldn’t drag her into any more danger. He had to crack the spy ring in order to keep her safe. Having her tagging along would slow him down and make her an easy target. That, and if someone discovered he was a member of the Cygnus Brotherhood, they could capture Ellen and threaten her to get at him.

Two weeks ago he’d have kissed Mr. Danby for offering such a chance at happiness, but his situation had changed—very much so. James needed to finish what he started in the carriage.

He bowed his head, not meeting Ellen’s gaze. “Then if you will excuse me, I must go ready my bags.”

Mr. Danby’s eyebrows ratcheted to the top of his forehead, but he said nothing.

As James walked down the hall, Ellen’s voice followed, clouded with tears as she whispered his name.

But his decision was for the best. She’d understand one day.

He hoped he could.

Within minutes, he’d shoved his belongings into his trunk and changed into fresh clothes. A bath would have been nice, but it would have to wait until he found somewhere else to stay at such a late hour.

When he lugged his trunk down the stairs, no one wished him goodbye. The Danbys’ butler, looking terse and groggy, ushered James out. He pointed James to the Danbys’ carriage. Ellen’s uncle had spared no time waking the staff and forcing them to deal with their now unwanted guest.

A driver with sleep still in his eyes secured James’s trunk to the back of the rig, then turned to address him. “Where am I taking you, Mr. Kent?”

Where could he go?

In the last few weeks he’d lost his best friend, the girl he loved, and entrance to Ingram House. That left his parents. But they were touring Europe at present and held few ties in Chicago. None of which he could descend upon at four in the morning with good graces.

James grabbed the door and hauled himself up the steps of the carriage. “Drive me to Hugh Gunther’s residence. I believe his home’s on Calumet Avenue.”

“Yes, sir.” With a flick of the reins they were off, leaving his heart in their wake.

He glanced back at the Danby mansion, selfishly hoping to see Ellen waving or sending a wink his way from one of the windows. But all the curtains remained still.

“You didn’t let me see him.” Ellen pounded the great hulk of her uncle’s chest with her tiny fists. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

He grabbed her wrists. “Settle down, girl. It’s for the best. Any man that reckless isn’t worth shedding tears about.”

James hadn’t sought her out. Hadn’t offered a word of explanation. Hadn’t wanted her.

Fatigue tinged her muscles. Ellen leaned against a side table for balance. “James isn’t reckless. He’s the complete opposite. He’s slow and over thinks all his decisions. Sometimes he calculates a choice to such a degree that his friends are left to force his hand. He is everything good and upstanding Uncle, and now—thanks to you—I don’t know when I’ll see him again.”

Uncle Garrett’s lips pulled into a snarl. “If I have my way, never! Oh, stop trembling your bottom lip. I’m sure you’ll be forced to see him in society, but I never want the two of you alone again. Do you hear me? As long as you are under my roof, you will obey that order.”

He extended his hand, taking hers gently for the first time that day. “Now, go to your room. I’ve sent the maid to make you a bath. Become presentable and snatch a few hours of sleep. I’ll send for you at eight. By that time I want you smiling for your aunt. I won’t tell her about your escapade tonight. Louisa’s had too much stress today already.” Lamplight danced across his face, and deep lines stretched across his forehead, making the skin below his eyes sagged.

“What is the matter with my aunt?”

“I’ll allow her to explain. I’m worried about her.” Uncle Garrett released her hand and paced the hall, gripping his chin. “She had an episode last night and she wanted you. She’s so upset. I’m not keen on seeing her like that.”

As he walked, he yanked at the back of his hair, and his shoulders looked rigid as if bearing a heavy burden. But could an adulterer love his wife?

Ellen leaned against the wall and pulled the mobcap off her head. “You are anxious about my aunt? You care about her enough to stay up all night?”

Uncle Garrett faced her, his hands out in surrender. “Of course I care about her wellbeing. She is my wife.”

“I’ve heard not all men do.” She twisted the hat in her hands.

“Well, I am not all men. Louisa and I have lived a fulfilling life together. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I heard someone mention that sometimes the rich don’t marry for love.” Knowing her face could betray her, Ellen kept her eyes trained to the floor.

“The first time I saw your aunt I said to myself,
I’ll marry that woman someday
. We were both at the Wheaton harness racing track enjoying a summer afternoon. I watched her all day. For being middle-class, she held her umbrella with such dignity, I knew instantly she’d make it among the Chicago elite with minimal training. By midday I worked up the courage to offer for her and your mother to have a private introduction to the horses and the jockeys. Louisa’s been at my side ever since.”

Ellen’s head reeled. She couldn’t make her uncle’s speech make sense with the information her aunt had shared. At least, not on so little sleep. “I’m tired, I think I’ll retire. I’ll sit with my aunt after sunrise.”

Upon entering her bedroom, her body ached to curl up in a ball in the center of her bed and have a good cry. But a basin of perfumed water beckoned, and after catching a whiff of her soiled clothes, bathing won out over sleep. Besides, the hot water might sooth her throbbing ankle. She peeled off the dress and stepped into the tub, letting the liquid work its warm magic.

Then she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

James slammed his palm against the glossy cedar. “Hugh Gunther, open this door.”

In a few minutes, lights illuminated the front parlor. Hugh’s butler appeared, looking as stern as his employer. “Might I assist you, Mr. Kent?”

“Yes.” James leaned a hand on the doorframe. “Please have someone bring my trunk to an available room.” He crossed the threshold and scanned the entryway. A coat of arms bearing a rearing deer hung on the wall next to a painting of a castle surrounded by mist. Two full suits of armor flagged either side of the grand staircase.

The butler paled. “Mr. Gunther is expecting you?”

After removing his hat, James raked his hand through his hair. “He’ll have to host me. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Mr. Kent, I’d like to accommodate you, but the master of this house is most particular about the use of his guest rooms. If you could return in a few—”

“No need, Ansley.” Clad in a long maroon robe, Hugh descended the stairs. “Have his belongings placed in the William Lamb room.” The Englishman moved aside for his staff and turned his attention to James. “My rooms are named for Prime Ministers. I like to fancy myself still in my native country from time to time.”

“Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

“When did I say I’m letting you stay?” Hugh motioned for James to follow him down the hallway that led to the windowless chamber built into the center of the house. Leaning, he lifted the ugly brown vase a fraction of an inch and the tell-tale click came. The secret Cygnus Brotherhood meeting room creaked open.