Check,” Flora said triumphantly. “Your king is in danger, Mr. McMinn.”
It wasn’t really, not fatally. And though Lucas could see three different ways to capture her king and win the chess game, he was enjoying the woman’s company far too much to end things so quickly.
And beyond that, they still had business to attend to.
He moved his king out of danger and then sat back to watch her consider her next move. He did the same, though not with any thought to the game.
Instead, he studied her while he had the opportunity. She was truly beautiful, though that was not what drew him to want to know more about her. This woman of wealth and privilege had something else about her—an inner beauty—which he couldn’t quite define. And then there was the thought that he’d met her before. Perhaps in New Orleans or during his days at Harvard.
He knew that was completely impossible, and yet the longer he sat across the table from her, the more he felt the odd sensation.
She looked up and caught him staring. “What? Did I make a bad choice?”
He looked down and saw she’d captured his rook. “No, you made a good one, actually.” He countered with his queen and then continued his study of Flora.
Instead of making another move on the chessboard, however, she paused to meet his gaze. “I wonder if you’ve decided about me yet.”
Lucas hadn’t expected her to say anything like that. His response took a moment to formulate. “What do you mean?” was the best he could manage.
“Whether I’m guilty of the things I’ve been accused of.” She paused. “I’m just curious as to whether you actually think I could have committed the crime you’ve sworn out a warrant for. Or are you only using me to get to Will Tucker? I have my opinion, but I wonder about yours.”
She tilted her head slightly and a curl slid free to cascade down her back. Lucas’s fingers itched to touch it, but he forced his addled brain back to the topic at hand.
“I’ve already admitting using you to get to him. That’s the substance of our deal and the reason you’re still walking around instead of sitting in a jail cell.”
“I suppose that’s true. And I’m helping you because I’m certain of my fiancé and his character. But as to my guilt or innocence?”
“You really don’t believe he could commit any crimes, do you?”
“No, not really, though I believe all of us have the ability to make choices to do the wrong thing. That’s human nature. However, in this case I am absolutely certain that Will Tucker would not have done what you think. If I could tell you the complete reason why, which I cannot at this point, I believe you would think the same.”
There she went again with the same defense of the man for this mysterious unknown reason that would be cleared up when Tucker was cross-examined. What struck him most was her insistence that the man Lucas knew as a hardened criminal couldn’t possibly be involved in wrongdoing.
Did she truly not know his past? His gut told him she didn’t, and yet if he believed she was being used by Tucker, there was a whole lot more about her he’d have to change his mind about. And right now thinking of Flora Brimm as anything but a potential criminal in his personal custody was dangerous.
His finger went to his lips as he recalled just what could happen when he allowed himself to see her that way. Just as quickly, he let his hand fall to his lap and sent his thoughts back to the topic at hand.
The fact remained, though. Flora Brimm was a dangerous woman whether she was guilty or innocent.
“You’re skeptical,” she said as she toyed with a pawn. Her gaze lifted to meet his. “My guess is that’s a hazard of your occupation.”
“It is.”
She moved the pawn to take out his knight. “Then I won’t take offense. I only ask that you remain fair and impartial, and that you give Mr. Tucker an opportunity to explain.”
Lucas wanted to give her a lecture right then and there about the character of her Mr. Tucker. About what he’d been known to do once a woman admitted her complete trust in him. What he could do to her next.
But if he got started, he’d likely say something he would regret. Something that might jeopardize the investigation. So, in the interest of seeing Will Tucker pay for the crimes he’d committed, Lucas chose to take the high road and keep his stronger opinions to himself.
“Mr. McMinn, you seem reluctant to respond.”
“I am, but I will admit I’m keeping an open mind.” The truth, though he hated to admit even that much of the doubts that had begun to dog him. “Though the evidence is overwhelming. The property you handed over to me was stolen.”
“From someone you care very much for.”
Her face looked so innocent when she said those words. And yet the insight behind them terrified Lucas. If she could see that in him, what else could she see?
“I prefer to keep the subject on someone you care for.” He paused. “Tell me about Will Tucker. What is it about him that made you accept his proposal?”
She shifted positions to move her pawn. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“I had indications he was the one. That’s all I’m going to say. And it’s your move.”
“My move?”
Flora nodded toward the game.
“Oh, right,” he said as he slid his king over. “How well did you know Tucker before he became your fiancé?”
He watched as several emotions crossed her face. Finally she met his eyes with what appeared to be embarrassment or regret. Lucas couldn’t tell which.
“I didn’t know him at all before that day.” She shrugged. “I know it sounds completely insane, and maybe it is.”
“I never did believe in love at first sight, but if you want to claim it happened to you, go right ahead.”
“I’m not claiming that at all.” She paused to move her queen within reach of his king. “You heard what the Lennart ladies said about me. About my grandfather’s will. Those women were complete strangers to me, and yet they knew intimate details about very personal issues that only my family should be privy to. You have no idea how often this happens.”
“You do appear to be a popular gal, Miss Brimm.”
“There was a time I might have enjoyed that. Even cultivated it.” Another pause, and this time she looked away. “I just got tired of being Fatal Flora and of having the weight of the family inheritance swinging in the balance between me and Winny. It seemed the easiest way.” She shook her head. “The best way,” she corrected.
“Do you want the inheritance that bad?” he said. “Bad enough to marry a stranger?”
He allowed that Tucker might be a stranger to her, but only as an experiment to check her reaction. To his surprise, her expression did not change.
“I don’t want it at all. But my father does and so does Grandmama. And then there’s Violet’s welfare to consider.”
“Your sister? What does she have to do with all this?”
Flora looked away. “She needs a home and full-time care. I can provide that if I keep Brimmfield. I don’t trust Winny to provide for her if I don’t.”
An invalid sister and relatives scheming to keep what some old coot wanted them to fight for? And here was Flora apparently stuck in the middle. For a moment, his heart hurt for her. “So these people are depending on you to somehow save the farm by marrying a total stranger?”
“Not exactly. Father has no idea beyond what I’ve written to him, and Grandmama…well, she was only recently informed.” She sat back in her chair, all pretense of playing chess now gone. “The idea was to wait long enough to become better acquainted before Mr. Tucker and I actually married. To answer the question you will likely ask next, yes, we did intend on eloping in Eureka Springs, though I had hoped to introduce him to Grandmama and to spend a week or two with him before we wed.”
“But it didn’t happen like that.”
“No. Unfortunately, Mr. Tucker was two weeks late, which meant that Grandmama’s departure date was nearing. Nothing happened according to plan, though I did tell her the day before…well, before we might have wed had I not missed the appointment.”
Lucas ignored the barb. “No wonder you were in such a panic the night we met. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a woman negotiate a fourth floor window ledge in a ball gown as skillfully as you did.”
Her soft chuckle was a welcome sound. “I owe that skill to Violet. She was the brave one…until her accident.”
“The accident that made you the only Brimm daughter who could marry and fulfill Grandpapa’s terms?”
“Yes.” It was a mere whisper.
Knowing people like the Brimms, who could write in their wills whatever outlandish terms they wanted to manipulate children and grandchildren like puppets from the grave, Lucas didn’t ask for clarification. Apparently Grandfather Brimm had set Flora and this Winthrop character up as cousins sparring for the same trophy.
“So, Miss Brimm, if you’re willing to marry a stranger to please your grandfather’s lawyers, what is your cousin Winthrop willing to do?”
Her confident expression faded. “You don’t actually believe that any of what the Lennarts gossiped about is possible, do you?
“Almost anything is possible.” He shrugged, just a nudge and nothing that would indicate any sort of extreme interest in the topic. And yet at the same time, he continued to watch her keenly.
“Possible, yes,” she said as she maintained an even gaze. “Probable? No, I don’t think it is probable that Winny had anything to do with my current unmarried state.”
“As in he didn’t kill any of your fiancés?”
“Exactly, though it sounds so harsh when you put it that way.” Her expression softened, and Lucas thought it possible that her eyes might have been hiding a few unshed tears. “Contrary to what you likely believe about me, I wasn’t always so intent on marrying for anything but love.”
“Oh?”
She’d definitely captured Lucas McMinn’s attention with that statement. Flora steeled herself for the remainder of the admission she planned to make.
“Believe it or not, I was in love.”
“With all four of them?” His tone did not offer the sarcasm she expected, nor did he seem to dismiss her statement offhand.
“Well, not at the same time, Mr. McMinn.”
“Lucas.”
Flora shook her head. “I’m sorry?”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Call me Lucas. I think we know each other well enough to allow us that.”
“All right. Lucas.” She tried out the name tentatively, giving it less emphasis than it felt when she spoke the word. “As I was saying, yes I did love Simon Honeycutt. I’d loved him since childhood. We had a pact.” Flora felt a smile rising despite the jab of pain at speaking of Simon. “When we reached the age of twenty-five, which seemed awfully old to us back then, if neither of us had married we were to become engaged. And then by thirty, which was all but elderly by a nine-year-old’s standards, we would marry and have one child.”
“Thirty?”
She shrugged. “We planned to travel the word first. And five years seemed like plenty of time to see everything at least once. His mother thought the whole thing amusing. Mine thought Simon was my perfect match. So, we were humored. Encouraged, actually.”
Her smile dipped slightly at the corners at how simple that all sounded. How very easy it might have been to do as Grandfather asked had things not taken such a terrible turn for the worst with Simon and the fever that took him so quickly.
“If only I had the wisdom of a nine-year-old again,” she said softly.
A moment passed as Flora looked beyond the chandeliers and champagne in the dining room to see the beautiful simplicity of the moon floating above the tree line through the high windows.
“What happened to the other three?” His question, though gently asked, still jarred her.
“Being a Pinkerton agent, I thought you’d know.”
“I know what the file says.” He paused to shift positions. “I’d like to hear it in your words.”
“Always investigating.”
“A hazard of the job,” he said without any sign of apology.
“All right.” She let out a long breath. “My first fiancé, Graham, and I were far too young to be considering marriage, but my mother had just died and…well, I suppose people marry at seventeen and do just fine. I’m not sure we would have.”
When he nodded, she continued. “Graham asked me to marry him while I was away at Dillingham Ladies Preparatory. We wrote the most romantic letters back and forth.” She paused to smile. “He was quite the writer.”
“What happened?”
“His father and mine had a dispute over the price of indigo crops. Though we’d already announced our intention to marry, Father forbade me to see him.” She shrugged. “We decided to run away together.”
Lucas smiled. “So you have a history of eloping.”
“Well, I have a history of attempting to elope. This one didn’t work out, obviously, though it wasn’t because the groom didn’t show. Unfortunately we only got as far as Memphis. Father hauled me home, though I was none too happy about it.”
“And Graham?”
“He wrote me twice promising to come and get me.” Flora paused. “And then he stopped writing. A few weeks later he was found in an alley in a rather seedy part of Natchez. Apparently there had been a robbery, though his body must have been dumped there, for he certainly did not frequent that sort of area. At least not that I knew of.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to know the details. I’m sure you can find them easily enough.”
“And fiancé number three?” he asked. “How did he meet you and then his Maker?”
She slanted him a look. “I met Alan while visiting my aunt in New Orleans. He and Winny were friends. He died…”
“Go on.”
She knew what he would think, but the truth was the truth. “He was shot while hunting.”
“And who was this man hunting with?”
“Well, there were a few boys from Tulane. He was attending school there.”
“Anyone else?” He shifted positions in the chair. “Was your cousin Winthrop hunting with them? Apparently he likes that sort of thing.”
Even if she were to deflect the question, Mr. McMinn likely already knew the answer. “He was,” she said with a look that dared him to make any further accusations. “And if it makes any difference, I wanted to believe Winny did it. I blamed him at first, quietly and privately, and I think other family members did as well. But we all closed ranks and saw to it that we provided a unified front until the scandal blew over.”
“What made you decide it wasn’t him who pulled the trigger?”
Flora sighed. “Because apparently Alan was killed by his own gun. The man who found him said he thought the weapon had either misfired or he dropped it.”
“Neither are likely for an experienced hunter.” He paused. “How long had this man been hunting, Flora?”
“Truly, Mr. McMinn…Lucas. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to see if protecting people you care about is a habit of yours or just a one-time event that applies only to Will Tucker.”
She crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and sighed. On the other side of the room, the orchestra had switched to an upbeat waltz that had people jumping up to fill the dance floor. For a moment, she considered making an attempt to redirect Lucas’s attention toward dancing. Or anything other than this macabre topic.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You lost one fiancé to a mugging. Definitely not something you could have any part in.”
“Correct.”
“Then there’s an unfortunate illness that took fiancé number two.” When she nodded, he continued. “And fiancé number three had a hunting-related death that left some unanswered questions.”
“Yes, though in both Graham’s and Alan’s deaths—”
“I know, you believe them to be accidents. Duly noted.” He paused. “Now by my count, we have one more. What happened to fiancé number four?”
“Logan was stuck by lightning.” She shook her head. “You certainly can’t blame Winny for that.”
“Nor would I unless the circumstances warrant.” Lucas paused. “Where was he when this happened?”
“Actually, he was with Winny. They were riding horses at the time. Winny was unharmed and able to go for help. Unfortunately, there was nothing the doctors could do.” She paused. “Having been struck yourself, you surely know how it is with such an injury.”
He did. Fortunately, his injuries hadn’t taken his life, though it had given him a healthy concern for thunderstorms. Unless Flora Brimm was nearby.
Lucas cleared his throat and returned his thoughts to the question at hand. “So by the time help arrived, courtesy of Cousin Winthrop, Logan was dead?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “It wasn’t like that—”
“You don’t know what it was like, Flora. You weren’t there, were you?” She shook her head as he reached down to move his queen. “Checkmate. Now let’s talk about our plan for finding your next fiancé alive, shall we?” He rose and offered her his hand. “Walk with me.”
She fell into step beside him, as much to placate the man who was making such awful assumptions about Winny as to prevent any further contact with the Lennart ladies, who were watching from their table.
Just when she expected him to turn right to exit the room, Lucas led her forward to the dance floor. “Oh, no,” she said. “I can’t. That is, we shouldn’t, should we?”
“Flora,” he said as he leaned in so close she could smell the scent of peppermint on his breath. “We already have. Twice. But never an entire song without an exit to interrupt it.”
Her laughter sufficed as an answer as he whirled her into the crowd. For all his rough edges, this Pinkerton agent was an expert on the dance floor. His touch was light but firm, and they moved through the maze of dancers as if they were the only ones on the floor.
It was exhilarating to be led, to think about nothing but holding on tight while the music flowed around them. When the song ended, she paused to clap, though she truly hated that it was over.
“All right,” she said as she made a move toward the exit. “Now we’ve danced an entire song. Time to exit.”
The first chords of the next song chased her, as did Lucas McMinn. “Not quite yet,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and slid her back toward him. “I don’t know about you, but this one’s a particular favorite of mine.”
She easily fell into step as the beautiful and elegant strains of “Beau Soir,” literally translated as “Beautiful Evening,” rose in a haunting melody. “Why, Lucas McMinn,” she said in her best boarding school voice, “I had no idea you were a fan of Debussy.”
He did not immediately reply, giving her cause to close her eyes and allow the music to once again sweep her away. This song, this tribute to the end of the day with its celebration of youth and happiness, had once been her favorite. Dancing in this man’s arms to a three-piece orchestra on a rumbling steamboat’s dance floor had once again elevated the tune to that status.
And then he began to sing. Softly at first, so soft that Flora was unsure she’d heard him, and then rising as the song rose. His French was impeccable, his tone a wonderful rich tenor that embraced the French lyrics as if he had lived them himself.
“Magnifique,” Flora said. “Je ne savais pas que vous parliez Français.”
He appeared surprised, almost as if he hadn’t realized he had been singing. “Thank you,” he said with a measure of what appeared to be embarrassment. “I speak passable French. My mother was…”
“Was what?” she asked as she spied the three Lennarts eyeing them with more than a little curiosity.
“A lovely woman.” He shook his head and began moving toward the edge of the dance floor. “Never mind. I think it’s time to exit.” At the staircase, he nudged her toward the door leading to the exterior balcony.
Her heart lurched at the thought of once again standing alone in the dark with Lucas McMinn. A rough-around-the-edges lawman who sang in flawless French and played a decent game of chess. Who knew what other secrets he was keeping from her?