An Agent for Emily Read online

  How disappointing.

  “At least we know,” Emily said when he told her.

  “True. Well, let’s see if any of these other papers are helpful.”

  As they looked through all the correspondence, they found letters from each of the house guests saying they’d be more than happy to attend the weekend house party. Mr. Duncan added that he was glad to resolve their dispute. Beyond that, they found nothing that seemed pertinent or important.

  “What sort of dispute do you think they were having?” Emily asked.

  “I have no idea, but that sounds like something you might be able to get out of Mrs. Cunningham,” Todd replied.

  “I don’t know how I’d even approach it.”

  “You could say that Mrs. Astor confided in you,” Todd suggested. “I can’t imagine that Mrs. Astor will be downstairs very early tomorrow, if at all—you could use that time to your advantage.”

  “That’s a good idea. Of course, that means I’d have to be up early, and I don’t enjoy being up early.”

  “Yes, I noticed that about you,” he replied.

  She turned to him with an irritated look on her face. “Ladies shouldn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, you know. They’re often up late the night before seeing to their societal duties, and they must sleep sometime.”

  “I know that. I also know that some ladies do better with early morning hours than others. I’m not judging you—I’m just making a statement.”

  “You knew from the start that I’m a spoiled creature. Nothing should surprise you at this point.”

  “And I’m not surprised. I’m amused, shall we say.”

  “Well, amuse yourself with something else.” She looked over the surface of the desk. “I think we’ve done all we can for right now. There are some cabinets on the other side of the room, but we need daylight for those—just the desk has been hard enough with this one light.”

  “Agreed. Let’s see about coming back tomorrow.”

  Emily gathered up her petticoat, grumbling the whole time about having to put it back on. “I wish I could just carry it, but someone would ask questions, and then my reputation really would be ruined,” she said. Todd grinned, glad the candle had been put out so she couldn’t see his face. He shouldn’t find things like that funny, but he did.

  “All right, let’s go. I’m expected at a whist game,” he said. He turned the doorknob slowly, but froze when he heard voices in the hall.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mother, Father, I will not be treated like a child anymore.”

  Emily pressed her lips together. The Duncans—what sounded like all three of them—were in the hallway. She and Todd would have to wait to make their escape.

  Todd slowly let go of the doorknob and stepped back. She sensed his movements rather than seeing them, as the curtains were still closed and she didn’t have the help of the moonlight.

  “I can’t stand the thought of my daughter throwing herself at some young man as though she was a common . . . well, I can’t even say the word.” Mrs. Duncan sounded disgusted. “What difference does it make if Mr. Gray does or does not come back to play cards? The actions of a young man should be of no consequence to a young lady whatsoever.”

  “Mother, all I did was wonder aloud if he was coming back. That’s all I said, but you’re acting as though I announced my intention to marry him or something.”

  “And do you? Do you intend to marry him?” Mr. Duncan asked.

  “Of course not! Father, I met him this morning. We’ve spoken perhaps ten full sentences to each other. How could I possibly intend to marry him when I don’t even know him?”

  “Girls do it all the time! They get these fancy ideas in their heads, these romantic notions. It’s ridiculous. They don’t have a bit of common sense anymore.”

  Priscilla sighed. “Mother, Father, you’ve raised me to have common sense. You’ve taught me to approach my relationships in a reasonable way. Isn’t it time to step back a little and see how well I’ve learned those lessons?”

  “I . . . I don’t know, poppet,” Mr. Duncan said after a long moment. “You’re our little girl, and we’ve done everything we can to give you a proper upbringing. You’ve wanted for nothing, and we’re proud of that. But it’s hard to send you out into the world where maybe you won’t be treated quite so well. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I don’t want to get hurt either, but if I am, isn’t that part of growing up?”

  This sounded like it had the potential of becoming a long, drawn-out conversation. Emily felt her way over to the desk and sat down. Todd came with her, but sat on the floor, leaning up against the wall.

  “So,” he whispered after a long moment. “When are you going to put Jeremy out of his misery?”

  “What do you mean?” she whispered back.

  “I mean, when are you going to forgive him and marry him?”

  He certainly didn’t beat around the bush. “I believe I’ve already mostly forgiven him, but I’m not going to marry him.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, and he knows it—I haven’t pretended with him.”

  “Oh. I thought you were just . . .”

  “Dangling him on a string?”

  “No. More like, waiting until he’d learned his lesson or something.”

  The voices in the hallway stopped, and Emily heard a new one. “Good evening. Is there something I can do for you?” It was the butler—he must have come upon the Duncans’ clandestine meeting spot.

  “No, we’re quite all right, thank you,” Mrs. Duncan replied.

  “If there’s nothing I can do, perhaps I could encourage you to move along to the other wing of the house,” the butler continued. “At this time of night, I close off this wing to conserve heat.”

  “Of course. We’ll go back to the drawing room.”

  “Excellent choice. There’s a nice fire going in there, and the maids will be around shortly with tea.”

  He closed up that wing of the house? What did that mean, exactly? Emily heard a rattling sound, and then another, and realized he was checking doorknobs. Oh, no. She slid down in the chair as far as she could, hoping she couldn’t be seen from the doorway, and yet knowing she could be.

  The doorknob to the office rattled, then opened. “Curious,” the butler muttered. He reached around the door, turned the lock, then pulled the door closed, checking it one more time before moving on. Emily felt as though her heart was going to burst from her chest—if he’d opened the door even the slightest bit farther, the light from the lantern he carried would have fallen on her, and that would have been an utter disaster.

  She waited to speak until she could no longer hear him rattling the doorknobs down the hall, then whispered, “So, are we in here for the night?”

  “I don’t know,” Todd replied. “I’ll need to see if I can jimmy the lock from this side, but I’m going to wait a few minutes until we’re sure the butler is gone.”

  “Good idea.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “So, why did you think I was just biding my time with Jeremy?”

  Todd didn’t reply at once, and she began to wish she hadn’t asked the question. Then he said, “He has the sort of lifestyle you want, and he has the connections you want. I thought it was an obvious match.”

  That made her sound so heartless, but . . . she was heartless. And that knowledge had never bothered her until now. “I thought so too until very recently, but that was my pride speaking. Somewhere along the line, I figured out there’s another kind of pride, a more important kind of pride called self-respect, and while I believe that he’s sorry, my self-respect won’t allow me to marry him now. I now believe that I deserve someone who has treated me well right from the start, regardless of what their relations might say.”

  “Good for you.”

  “What?” She’d expected him to have a different reply, maybe even a teasing retort, but not to applaud her. “You . . . approve?”

  �
��I don’t think anyone should marry just for a house or status. Houses can burn down. It’s what’s inside the house that’s worth fighting for and preserving.”

  “I agree. However, if that house does happen to be rather nice, I won’t complain. I’m not meant to be a pauper, Agent Wilcox. I can’t feed four people for a month on a bag of flour. Anna’s the useful one, not me.”

  She sensed Todd moving, but she didn’t know what he was doing until he knelt down next to her chair and took her hand in his. “You listen to me, Emily Gray,” he whispered intently. “You’ve been more useful these last twelve hours than you can ever know. Stop downplaying your contribution to this case and to this world. You’re far more valuable than just your pretty face and your witty conversation. You have a brain in that head and a heart in that chest, and it’s time you owned up to both.”

  She sat there, stunned, not knowing how to reply, but then it was too late anyway. He moved over to the door and fiddled with the lock for a moment, and then it popped open. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, and she was all too eager to agree.

  ***

  Todd and Emily joined the others in the drawing room, and Emily gave an obligatory report on Jeremy’s condition. Then she excused herself to go to bed, and it was just as well because Todd couldn’t concentrate with her around. He had realized something that night, something that had completely unnerved him, and he needed time away from her to muddle it out in his mind.

  He kept up a light banter with Priscilla Duncan, fed tidbits of cheese to Hermie, and played the piano for Mrs. Cunningham while she sang. Then he excused himself as well, more than ready to get out of the chaos and find some peace and quiet.

  Jeremy was asleep when he entered the room, so he changed and lay down on the cot that had been brought in for him so he wouldn’t disturb the patient in his bed. The cot suited him much better anyway because his restless thoughts led to tossing and turning, and the cot was forgiving.

  He might, just might, be falling for Miss Emily Gray.

  And he had no idea what to do about it.

  He’d become a Pinkerton agent when he was twenty-one, and it was all he’d ever wanted to do. He’d never dreamed of owning a shop or being a doctor or becoming a lawyer—he wanted to be a Pinkerton, and that was that. He’d read every newspaper article he could find on the great organization, and he’d all but memorized every quote he could find that Allan Pinkerton had given. When he played with his childhood friends, they all wanted to pretend to hunt down the Indians—he wanted to hunt down criminals. And he believed he could do all that best if he wasn’t married.

  But gracious if Miss Emily Gray wasn’t starting to get under his skin.

  He knew he could never marry her. She wanted a life that was leagues beyond anything he could offer. But that bit of logic didn’t erase the memory of the way her skin had felt under his touch, her soft intake of breath, the faint scent of lilac on her neck when he leaned in close to speak to her. He could try to convince himself that he’d react that way to any pretty woman, but he knew that was a lie. There was something special about Emily Gray, and he was in serious trouble.

  He’d better get this case solved and be on his way back to New York. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, and he could certainly never make her happy. It would be best to put some distance between them so he could eventually forget about her.

  If that was even possible.

  ***

  Of all the things that annoyed Emily Gray, having a bad night’s sleep was certainly at the top of the list, and when she climbed out of bed the next morning, she was in a rotten mood. Her brain was whirling a million times a minute, and she couldn’t calm it long enough to sort anything out. The only thing that stood out was the fact that Todd had been close enough for her to kiss, and she’d wanted to. Badly.

  But that was ridiculous. She’d known him for a scant few days. How could she possibly want to kiss someone she didn’t even know? When he’d leaned in, when he’d taken her hand, he’d been so close, and in the darkness, it was as though all her other senses were heightened and she could have found his lips without any trouble at all. But again, that was ridiculous. She was a lady, and ladies didn’t think about finding men’s lips. They were content to leave those men’s lips exactly where they were.

  By the time dawn came, she was more than grumpy. She sat up in bed, scowled at the thought of a new day, and threw back the duvet, determined to be unpleasant. She’d let her guard down with Todd the night before, and it had gotten her nowhere good. Never again.

  When Bessie came to help her get ready for the day, she asked about Mrs. Astor and Mrs. Perceval.

  “Oh, they’re both still sleeping, and I think that’s the best thing for them,” the maid replied. “The nurse gave them some drops, and hopefully they’ll get plenty of rest before they have to start thinking about the world around them again.”

  “I agree,” Emily said. And if Mrs. Astor was still asleep, that morning might be the perfect time to try Mr. Astor’s office again. She wondered where the butler was, and if Todd was up and around yet. “Can you tell me anything about Mr. Tobler?” She’d better ask about her fiancé before she inquired about her cousin—appearances and all that.

  “Yes, I ran into his maid out in the hallway, and she says he’s doing quite well this morning. He seems to be missing you, though.”

  “Gracious. I saw him last thing before I went to bed.”

  Bessie laughed. “Yes, but he’s a man in love. I’m sure he’d much rather be with you than anywhere else in the world.”

  Emily didn’t know how to respond to that. She disliked lying to Bessie—the girl had been so free and easy with her that it felt wrong to lie in return. “Is everyone having breakfast downstairs?” she said instead.

  “Yes, miss. Not too many have made it down yet, though—I think last night was hard on everyone.”

  “I was hoping to speak to Mrs. Cunningham this morning.”

  “She’s downstairs right now, miss. You’re in luck.”

  Emily smiled. “I don’t know how you manage to keep track of everyone.”

  “It’s just part of my job, miss. There now—what do you think of your hair?”

  Emily turned her head from side to side. “You did an excellent job. Thank you.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure, miss. Your hair is so long and soft, it’s enjoyable to see what it will do.”

  Emily finished getting ready for the day and headed downstairs, eager to catch Mrs. Cunningham before the woman finished her meal. She was relieved to see that Mrs. Cunningham was reading the newspaper while she sipped her coffee and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave the dining room.

  “Good morning,” Emily said, taking a seat near Mrs. Cunningham’s right elbow. “Did you sleep all right? I confess, I’m a wreck today.”

  “Last night was very disturbing,” Mrs. Cunningham replied. She set the newspaper down and focused on Emily. “You were in the room during the questioning last night. Do the police have any idea where Mr. Astor might be?”

  “None at all, at least that they said,” Emily replied. “They’re considering him a missing person.”

  “Hmm. Is that all they’re considering him?”

  Emily tilted her head to the side. “I beg pardon?”

  Mrs. Cunningham leaned forward and whispered, “Isn’t he a suspect? I should think that with everything going on . . .”

  Emily nodded, even though she was clueless. “I was talking with Mrs. Astor yesterday, and she mentioned . . .” She trailed off. “It seems difficult,” she ended. There—that was enough to get Mrs. Cunningham talking, wasn’t it? And she didn’t have to outright lie and say Mrs. Astor had said anything revealing to her.

  “Oh, it’s been very hard. And now this.” Mrs. Cunningham shook her head. “If Astor isn’t dead, I know a lot of people who’d be willing to rectify that mistake.”

  “I’m sure.” Again, Emily was adrift. “I hope it doesn’t take
long to resolve.”

  “Well, that all depends, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Cunningham finished her coffee. “I’m going out to sit in the sun for a bit. It’s so gloomy in the house. Let me know if the police arrive while I’m out there, would you? I’d just as soon say my piece and be done with it.”

  “I know how you feel. Yes, I’ll let you know.”

  Emily ate her toast while she considered that strange conversation. Who all wanted to see Mr. Astor dead? And what did everything depend on?

  Todd entered the room just then, and she nearly choked on her toast. She wasn’t ready to see him again so soon, not after spending the whole night analyzing what had happened between them the night before.

  “Morning, cousin,” he said while pouring himself a cup of coffee on the sideboard. “How are you this morning?”

  “I’m well. How’s Jeremy?”

  “He’s all right. Looking a little less green around the gills.” He paused, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that about someone who’s fallen in a pond, should I?”

  “You mean, you shouldn’t make fish jokes?”

  “Something like that.” He carried his cup over and sat down next to her. “He says to wish you good morning.”

  She nodded, then leaned over. “I’m told Mrs. Astor and Mrs. Perceval are both still asleep,” she said softly. “Do you want to try the office again this morning?”

  Todd seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I have a feeling that as soon as the police are done questioning everyone, all the guests will leave, and we’ll lose our chance to prowl because we’ll be expected to leave as well.” He took a few sips of coffee. “Let’s go now. I’m not that hungry.”

  They left the dining room and crossed the foyer, walking down the hallway as though they had a right to be there. Persons couldn’t very well sneak in full daylight. They reached the office door and tried the handle, not expecting it to open, and of course, it didn’t. Todd reached into his pocket, pulled out his piece of wire, and got to work on the lock.

  “I hear footsteps,” Emily whispered. “Hurry.”