Sit, Flora.” Grandmama gestured to the chair nearest where she’d settled. “And do not dawdle.” With a nod, Flora joined her grandmother, though her thoughts continued to be divided between the strange man and the plan she hoped would include Grandmama.
They were in a quiet alcove with a lovely view of the Crescent Hotel’s grounds. Though other chairs were scattered down both sides of the long veranda, only a gray tabby dared come anywhere near Millicent Brimm without permission. And even the cat kept a respectable distance as she stretched lazily in the shade and peered through half-open eyes at the waiter who brought the tea tray.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Grandmama mused as she added sugar to her tea. “It reminds me a bit of home.”
“Mmm,” Flora said though she could see little to compare with Brimmfield and its indigo fields that rolled down toward the Mississippi River.
“Violet should be here.”
Flora gave her grandmother a sideways look. “We’ve been over this. She refuses.”
Grandmama reached to pat Flora’s hand. “She refuses thus far. One must give prayer time to work. You know this, dear.”
“Yes, but I also know my sister. If we can’t get her to move back into the main house, how will we get her back out in the world?” She looked away. “It’s just been too long.”
“A pity Brimmfield is in jeopardy of leaving the family.” Grandmama’s words were a surprising change of topic as well as a none-too-subtle jab.
“Is it Brimmfield you would miss or the fact that it would go to Cousin Winny?” Flora met her grandmother’s level stare even as her thoughts raced. “After all, he is family.”
The teacup rattled against the saucer as Grandmama set it down with a force that was echoed in her expression. “Winthrop Brimm is merely a blood relative, Flora. First cousin and family are distinctly different.”
“And yet family all the same,” she dared.
Grandmama’s expression sharpened. “Like his father before him, Winthrop has been known to associate with persons of unsavory character. Unlike his father, he has not yet married one of them.”
Sipping her tea, Flora let the comment pass without response. Bigger arguments were yet to be fought. Or perhaps Grandmama would fall into league with her without difficulty.
It was a good plan.
“Yes, I would miss Brimmfield. And for the record, no child of Clothilde is family of mine,” Grandmama continued as she leaned back in her chair and regarded Flora with an I-dare-you-to-argue look.
Whether it was Clothilde Brimm’s questionably dusky hair and skin or her disdain for the restrictions of polite Southern society, Grandmama piled reason upon reason to dislike her daughter-in-law. For those same reasons, Flora had loved her aunt dearly.
But she loved her grandmother more, and thus she let the comment pass unanswered rather than allow Grandmama to continue to harp on a feud that should have been long ago resolved. Talking about her plan to marry would have to wait until Millicent Brimm was in a better mood, as would reminding her that feuding with a dead woman rarely left a person feeling they had won anything of value.
“Tell me about tonight’s dinner plans. Will we be dining with the Culbersons again?”
“You cannot change the subject so easily, Flora Belle Brimm.”
“I can and I have,” she said gently but firmly. “Though if you would prefer not to discuss the Culbersons, perhaps you might regale me with another of your lovely stories of your travels. You know I wish to follow in your footsteps.”
And soon was best left unspoken.
Grandmama’s lips remained closed tight, her irritation etched into the lines of her forehead. Flora watched her grip the arms of her chair and then slowly lean forward as if to stand. Instantly, one of the hotel porters hurried to assist her.
“Leave me be,” she said as she shook off his assistance. When the young man had gone back to his post, Grandmama turned toward Flora. “Something else is on your mind.”
“There is, actually.” She worried with the words she longed to say and the trim on her sleeve in equal measure.
“Then you’d best just get it over with and tell me. You never were much on keeping secrets. At least not from me.”
Flora smiled. “You were always willing to listen.”
“I still am.”
“All right.” She let out a long breath and seized her courage. “I have a plan that will save Brimmfield.”
One iron-gray eyebrow rose. “Go on.”
“It’s a bit far-fetched, but I’ve decided to marry.” There. She said it.
“Of course you’ll marry,” Grandmama said with a polite chuckle. “I’m sure some brave fellow will manage to make it all the way to the altar. We’ll just have to give the Lord a bit more time to find him.” She leaned forward again to press her palms against her knees. “And to strengthen his health.”
Though her grandmother was far too proper to reference the reasons, time was certainly not something they had in abundance. Grandfather Brimm’s will stated that Flora was heir to Brimmfield—but only if she produced an heir before Winny turned thirty. Her cousin had recently celebrated his twenty-eighth birthday. Given the fickle nature of timing the birth of a child, not much time remained for Flora to find a husband who could survive to the altar and give her the child she needed.
“Actually, I have a candidate,” Flora said with what she hoped would be the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. “He’s well qualified and willing to accept the terms as I’ve outlined them.”
“A candidate? With terms?” Grandmama leaned back and shook her head. “Flora, you sound as if you’re talking about a potential employee.”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am.” Before Grandmama could protest, Flora hurried to continue. “You see, the fellow in question is most trustworthy. His character is above reproach, and he’s indicated he will sign a contract outlining his duties as my husband.”
This time her grandmother’s chuckle was accompanied by a sideways look. “Darling, I believe most men are well acquainted with the expectation of their duties as a husband without the likes of you outlining it in a contract.”
“Do be serious,” Flora snapped. “I’m not talking about that sort of marriage.”
“In order to beget the required heir within the allotted time, I’m afraid you must have that sort of marriage, my dear. I know of no other way.”
“He is of high esteem. He will see that an heir is…” She felt herself blush to her roots. “Is begat,” she finally managed. “The care and raising of that child, however, will be exclusively my domain.”
Grandmama appeared to take that assertion with unusual calmness. Perhaps she didn’t believe the statement. Or, more likely, she was busy formulating a plan to counter it.
Finally, she let out a long breath. “I’d be hard-pressed to believe you could find a man of such high esteem who would be willing to be bound to such an agreement. I would certainly have no respect for him.”
“Well, the Frisco Railroad finds him worthy of respect. He’s made quite a name for himself as one of their special railroad detectives.”
“Is that so?” Her grandmother appeared to consider the news with more than a little interest. “And this railroad man is willing to take on a loveless marriage for what I assume is a tidy sum? That isn’t the sort of fellow I would call above reproach.”
This was not going as Flora had hoped. “You don’t understand, Grandmama. He’s seeing to the needs of his family as well.”
“Likely a wife and a half dozen children tucked somewhere back on the railroad line in Springfield or St. Louis, unless I miss my guess.” She let out a long breath. “Truly, Flora, you must rethink this plan. I’ll not approve this sort of misbehavior.”
“Forgive me, but I’m not asking for your approval. Rather, I am informing you of—”
“Flora, please.” Grandmama’s expression sobered as she held up a hand to cease the discussion. “Dear, I believe we’ve been followed.” She gestured to the row of chairs on the far end of the veranda. “That man on the end. I’ve seen him before.”
Flora followed the direction of her grandmother’s gaze and found Will Tucker smiling in her direction. With a grin that even from this distance could charm a woman’s heart, there was no mistaking the railroad detective.
Worse, the man looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world as he tipped his hat.
“You’ve seen him before?” Flora managed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m certain of it. Perhaps on the train from St. Louis? Or was it at that dreadful reception for the governor last week?” She nodded. “Yes, that’s where it was. He was skulking about as if he didn’t want to be seen. I couldn’t help notice he’d taken an interest in you, though.”
The taut string of nerves holding her in place threatened to snap as Flora watched Mr. Tucker rise to stroll inside. As the doors closed, she gripped the arms of the rocker, her thoughts reeling.
“Are you certain?” That came out sounding as though someone else had said it.
“Dear, I am old and I may have need of my hearing trumpet on occasion, but I’m neither dotty nor blind. Nor do you need to ask the same question more than once. Yes, I am absolutely certain.” Grandmama’s eyes narrowed. “Only a careless fool would assume I don’t take notice when any fellow has set his sites on my unmarried and quite wealthy granddaughter. And that is the man I saw.”
“Last week?”
“Now who needs this ear trumpet? Yes, that is the man.”
Irritation and relief rose in equal measure as Flora returned her attention to Grandmama. “Would you excuse me?”
“Flora Brimm, I’ll do no such thing. You and I were in the middle of an important conversation that we need to take upstairs and continue in private.”
“And we shall. Just not right now.”
“Whatever did they teach you at that Yankee boarding school?”
“To behave in a manner befitting my station in life and to do nothing to disturb the peace of that station,” Flora said sweetly as she quoted from Dillingham Ladies Preparatory’s oath. “And to see to the needs of my family before my own. Which is exactly what I plan to do.”
Flora straightened her back and took her leave. Later she would pay the price with a lecture or perhaps a ticket back to Natchez. By then, however, neither Father nor Grandmama would have any say in what she did.
That honor would go to her husband, at least in theory. And in reality, she would leave the name of Fatal Flora Brimm behind.
As to her grandmother seeing Will Tucker last week? That was preposterous. Had he been in Eureka Springs, there was no reason for Mr. Tucker to hide himself from the woman he planned to marry.
No, Grandmama must certainly be mistaken.
The Crescent Hotel’s double doors once again opened, and a pair of liveried doormen stepped back to allow Flora entry into the main rotunda. Up ahead she spied Mr. Tucker sidestepping the fireplace of Eureka marble that anchored the center of the room. Such was the throng in the corridor leading to the staircase and elevators beyond that she easily caught up to the scoundrel.
He was tall and fair, with eyes of stormy gray and impossibly long lashes that a woman might envy. His hair stood in stark contrast to his dark hat and suit, and it had been cropped shorter than she remembered upon their last meeting. Still, he bore that dreamy Mr. Darcy quality that women who liked that sort of man might adore.
Had she planned on marrying for love, Will Tucker would not likely have made the topmost tier of her wish list, but with four former fiancés in their graves and a rumor that she might somehow be a party to their demises, Flora had long since given up on any sort of demands she might place on a husband.
For that matter, she’d almost given up on a husband due to the lack of possible candidates until her fortuitous meeting with Mr. Tucker on the steamboat between New Orleans and Natchez. She’d just left an interminable visit where she’d been forced to listen to Winny speak at length on what he would do with the profits gained from the sale of Brimmfield. Rather than hide away on a packet ship to a remote location, she’d climbed aboard the Lady of the River with a headache and a prayer.
Mr. Tucker and his talent for conversation had been the answer to both. That and his interesting ability to quote literature and to remember almost anything he read with perfect clarity and recall.
Then there was the fact that almost immediately after petitioning the Lord for the perfect husband, he appeared.
“A moment of your time, sir,” Flora said as she linked arms with her intended and led him away from the staircase toward the office and front exit.
If he was surprised by her forward behavior, Mr. Tucker did not let on. Rather, he dipped his head in greeting. “Well, hello there, Flora.”
She slid him a sideways look. “‘Hello there’ is not what I’d hoped to hear from you, Mr. Tucker. But this is not the place to discuss it.”
“I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow,” he said, quoting Mr. Darcy from the novel Pride and Prejudice as he had upon their first meeting. The cad.
“It’s a bit late for that sort of behavior, Mr. Tucker. You’ll need to stop quoting others and begin by telling me the cause of your delay.” She nodded toward the front exit of the hotel. “Perhaps a walk is in order. Will you join me?”
He offered a smile. “After you, Miss Brimm.”
When they had made their way around the side of the building away from the prying eyes of other guests, Flora released her grip on his arm. A sweep of his person from the tip of his well-shod toes to the top of his head, covered in a most fashionable hat, told her Mr. Tucker’s trip to Eureka Springs had not been uncomfortable. Nor had it been recent, for there wasn’t a single spot of soot or a wrinkle in his clothing to indicate he’d just traveled by rail.
Several responses came in response to the grin that lifted the corner of his mouth. “You’re late,” was the one she chose.
He dared to chuckle. “I’m right on time, darlin’.” He glanced around and then swung his attention back to Flora. “You’ll understand if I don’t elaborate. Official business and all.”
But she didn’t understand. Nor did it matter what sort of business kept him from arriving two weeks ago as promised. Or, worse, kept him on the periphery of her life without any indication he’d been there, if that had indeed been the case.
She looked past him toward Magnetic Springs and the mountains beyond, a lovely scene to soothe her rumpled thoughts. But gazing at the vista would do nothing to remedy the fact that her carefully laid plans were quickly falling by the wayside. Flora crossed her arms over her chest and willed her temper to cool.
“Mr. Tucker,” she said firmly. “You are not ‘right on time.’ You are, in a word, late. Two weeks late, and without so much as a note of decent explanation or apology.” He moved toward her, but Flora easily sidestepped him. “No you don’t, sir. I’ll have that explanation and the apology. You’ve caused me no end of trouble.”
“Have I?” His look of contrition almost worked. Almost, but not quite. The gleam in his eye gave him away. His expression told Flora that Mr. Tucker was actually enjoying her irritation. “And I thought I was the solution to all your troubles.”
That did it.
Flora Brimm was no wide-eyed girl intent on marriage to the first fellow who offered it. Rather, she was a grown woman who had mourned more than one man making the same offer as Tucker.
Straightening her shoulders, she let out a long breath and fixed him with a stare. “You and I had an arrangement. Please understand that this arrangement is in grave danger of being declared at an end. And lest you misunderstand, it is you and not I who is in breach of its terms.”
Instantly his arrogance disappeared. Apparently, he’d counted the cost of his cheeky behavior and deemed the loss too great to chance. “Let’s walk.”
Before she could protest, he linked arms with her and led her past the gazebo and around the side of the building before pausing once more near the empty croquet field. Here the scent of freshly cut grass drifted toward her on a light breeze.
“Surely you’re not thinking of changing your mind, Flora? I’m here now.” He paused to inch toward her, and he placed his hand on her arm. This time she allowed the familiarity. “I know once your feathers get unruffled, you’ll—”
“You are truly insufferable.” She yanked her arm away and began to retrace their steps. “To think you were the solution was pure madness,” she said over her shoulder.
He fell into step beside her. A moment later Mr. Tucker snagged her wrist to cease her progress.
“You could have sent a note. Something.” She sounded like a petulant fool. A woman scorned. Flora bit her lip and looked away. In truth, she felt a little like both.
“Hey, now,” he said with no small measure of irritation in his tone. He looked away briefly, and when he once again met her stare, his expression was neutral.
“Please, Flora. Can’t we discuss this elsewhere?” He led her away from the path to the more private shadows of a bench some yards away from the main building. He sat down and gestured for her to join him. “I am the solution. And far as I’m concerned, our arrangement’s still good. Why would I have bought this if I didn’t intend to go through with our marriage?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold wedding band encrusted with rubies and diamonds. “Do you like it?”
In order to maintain control over the conversation, she elected not to allow any indication that she was impressed with his offering. She did, however, concede to joining him on the bench. “It’s lovely. However, it proves nothing, especially when you’re two weeks late to the wedding with not a word to me in the meantime.”
His face told her nothing of what he must be thinking. When he did not respond, she looked away. “I found you easily enough, Mr. Tucker. I’m sure I can find a replacement for you.”
“What with those Fatal Flora rumors and all? Four down at last count is what they say. But I suppose it’s possible you wouldn’t have a reputation this far from home.”
She gasped. How could he know this? Of course. He was a detective. She should have taken that into consideration. The only thing to do for it now was to feign indifference. And perhaps add a bit of bravado to her flagging attitude.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said as she stood, “but are you insinuating something?” With the question, her backbone straightened and her ire rose. “For I would much prefer you just say it now while you have the chance.”
Mr. Tucker’s penitent look was instant if not completely believable. “Look, Flora. I was going to save this for later, but maybe this will repair your frayed nerves a bit.”
“My nerves are fine,” she snapped. “It is your calendar that needs repair.”
He produced a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and offered it to her as if he hadn’t heard her comment. “Our marriage license,” he said with a wink. “I even spoke with the parson before I checked in. He can marry us tomorrow morning.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back at her. “See, I have been busy.”
“But—”
“Honey, I’m not going anywhere, but apparently the reverend is. It’s the soonest he would agree to marry us. Go ahead and look at the license if you don’t believe me.”
Flora inspected the document and decided it looked every bit as legitimate as the marital property agreement upstairs in her suitcase. Convincing an attorney to draw up the contract under a vow of silence had taken work, but she would not be sharing any more of the Brimm fortune with this stranger than the agreed upon amount.
A brisk north breeze lifted the edge of the document and almost pulled it from her hand as Flora met Will Tucker’s eyes. She had one more thing to clarify with him. “My grandmother swears she saw you at a party we attended last week.”
She watched carefully for any response. Instead, his face went blank. “Mr. Tucker? Did you hear me?”
Slowly a grin lifted the corners of his lips. “I did but I figured you had to be teasing.”
Flora schooled her own features. “So you weren’t there?”
“Honestly, how can you think I would watch you covertly and not make myself known?” He shrugged. “Your grandmother is mistaken.”
“Yes, I suppose she must be,” Flora said slowly as she allowed his words to take hold. She quickly folded the license and returned it to him. “I shall need a meeting time for tomorrow morning.”
He cocked his hat back and seemed to think a moment. “Nine o’clock. I’m to deliver you to the parsonage.”
The way he stated things, Flora felt as if she were some sort of package to be deposited on the porch. Truly, for an educated man, Mr. Tucker hid his accolades well.
“Very well, then. I shall meet you in the hotel lobby at half past eight.”
He reached to draw her fingers to his lips. The odd thought occurred that this intimate act should not feel so off-putting, not when the man would be her husband by this time tomorrow.
The man who would father the favored heir.
“Flora, dear, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were dismissing me. And only hours before our wedding.”
Something in his demeanor, in the flippant way he addressed what was a topic of great concern, jabbed at her. She glanced around to be certain they were alone and then paused to offer a look she hoped would measure up to Grandmama’s do-not-mistake-my-meaning expression.
“You do not know me better, Mr. Tucker, nor am I much acquainted with you. Any attempts to suggest otherwise, and that marriage license is worthless.”
Lucas leaned further into the shadows beneath the back stairs and adjusted his specially constructed and soon-to-be-patented bowler hat, being careful not to allow the acoustic tube that enhanced his ability to listen in on Flora Brimm’s conversation to show. She thought she was marrying Tucker in the morning.
He would see about that.
“So, yes, I am dismissing you, Mr. Tucker,” she said clearly as her groom-to-be clutched the document he’d shown her. “There are preparations to be made.” At the man’s dense look, she continued. “Do you wish to draw attention to the fact you and I are here together?”
“They’ll know soon enough, won’t they?”
Miss Brimm shook her head. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what I’ve told you regarding my grandmother. She would neither approve of nor allow any sort of dalliance with someone I barely know. She said as much just now, so I’ve work to do to get around the issue.”
Tucker’s chuckle and the familiar way he touched Miss Brimm’s sleeve made Lucas clench his fists. “What can one old lady do?”
The Natchez belle easily slipped from the criminal’s grasp. “That ‘old lady’ spotted you before I did,” she said sharply.
“I told you it wasn’t me she saw last week—”
“I meant today,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “And trust me. Should Grandmama get wind of our plans beyond the general statement I made regarding our contract, she would call in any number of favors to guarantee we would never get away with anything less than a long engagement followed by what would surely become an overblown circus of a wedding. Is that what you want?”
“She won’t hear it from me.” Tucker spoke just quickly enough to let Lucas know the man was more than a little worried. “You have my word.”
Tucker said something else, but a trio of squealing children skipped past Lucas’s hiding place, followed by their loudly complaining mother. A moment later, the trolley pulled into the drive and clanged without ceasing for a full half minute. By the time the extraneous noise ceased, the pair appeared ready to part ways.
Miss Brimm glanced around, but her gaze swept past Lucas’s hiding spot without pausing. “Let’s do this my way. I shall order up transport for us for eight thirty tomorrow morning. Please alleviate my fears and go to your room until then, sir. Order your meals sent up. I’ll gladly pay for them once we’ve finalized our bargain. Just stay out of sight.”
He paused to give her a look that was hidden by the shade from his hat. “I’ll agree to it, but only because you asked so nicely, my dear. Consider it a wedding gift. Though I still don’t see why you’re so afraid of that old…” Tucker shook his head. “Forget I said anything. I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning after a night’s rest and an evening of behaving myself and staying out of your grandmother’s way. How’s that?”
She gave him a sideways look. “By staying in your room?”
He held up his hand. “I promise.”
“Then I think that’s a good plan.”
He winked. “As do I. Can’t be tired if I’m heading off on my honeymoon tomorrow.”
The trolley bell rang again, hiding her response. What could not be hidden, however, was the expression on her lovely face. Though Will Tucker was looking forward to a honeymoon, his bride was not.
Or perhaps she affected such an angry stance for some other reason. With his listening tube temporarily unusable and no other way to gauge her emotions, Lucas was left to wonder. It didn’t take a Pinkerton man, even one who specialized in advanced science and modern crime-fighting gadgetry, to tell Miss Brimm was not counting the minutes until the after-wedding celebration.
When she led Tucker toward the hotel’s front entrance, Lucas lost any ability to either see or hear them. He removed the bowler, made the adjustments that hid the listening device, and then returned the hat to his head to follow his prey. Keeping to the edges of the path where the foliage was dense, he easily trailed the pair until they separated at the front entrance.
Their parting left him momentarily baffled. Had Miss Brimm been his intended, Lucas knew for certain he would have offered at least an embrace. With lips that lovely and begging to be kissed, he would gladly have accommodated her.
Unfortunately, dwelling on a kiss that would never happen caused him to miss the direction in which Tucker headed. Flora Brimm, however, was impossible to miss as she swept past and hailed a doorman. Rather than access his listening tube to overhear her request, Lucas kept still until the doorman sprinted toward the entrance. Then, with Miss Brimm’s attention elsewhere, Lucas followed the employee inside.
“A moment of your time,” he said as he opened his coat just enough to allow the fellow to see his badge, but not enough to allow a viewing by any of the other hotel guests.
Especially not Miss Brimm, who had slipped inside and was now hiding—or, rather, attempting to hide—in a dark corner near the elevator.
Lucas nodded toward the manager’s office, hidden behind an etched glass enclosure. Releasing his coat lapel, he pressed a finger to his lips in a bid for discretion. “I’ll need to know what that young lady requested of you, and I’ll also need to speak with the manager.”
“She wishes to go into town. The post office, I believe.”
An odd request, considering that she could easily post a letter here at the hotel. “The manager, then. I need to speak to him right now.”
“Yes, of course, sir,” the man said as he hurried to his task. A moment later, the manager returned to usher Lucas into his private domain.
“Before you go,” he said to the fellow, “that same woman is skulking in the shadows near the elevator. Would you let me know the minute she leaves her hiding spot?”
A discreet glance and his eyes widened. “But that’s Miss Brimm, sir.”
“Yes, it is. Do not let her know you’re observing her.”
“Of course not, sir.”
“To what do we owe a visit from the Pinks?” the manager asked as he closed his door and gestured toward a chair in front of his desk.
“A matter of discretion,” Lucas said. “I’m afraid I have to inform you that two guests in this hotel are engaged in illegal activities. One has an arrest warrant pending. The other warrant should be active as of this afternoon at the latest.” He would confirm that with the sheriff as soon as he could manage it. “I am not at liberty to disclose these names as it might cause the parties to flee should attention be directed to them. However, I’m certain you would wish them to be dispatched quietly from your establishment.”
The manager’s brows gathered. “Indeed I do. We don’t condone anything of the sort at the Crescent. Consider the entire resources of our hotel at your command.”
Miss Brimm was seeking a personal visit downtown. Lucas grinned as he patted the handcuffs in his pocket. Indeed, she would have one. Unfortunately for her, the woman who was in collusion with Will Tucker would be heading for a jail cell and not the post office.
“Actually,” he said with a grin. “All I need right now is a buggy, the omnibus transport arrival schedule, and a little assistance from one of your men.”