Come with me, Flora,” Grandmama insisted. True to Father’s prediction, they had listened outside the door until the men finished their conversation. Slipping into Mrs. Brimm’s private parlor, Flora couldn’t help but tease her grandmother.
“So,” she said as she settled on her favorite spot, a floral divan with a tasseled ottoman for resting her feet. “I couldn’t help but notice that you heard the conversation on the other side of the door better than I did.”
“Don’t be silly.” Seated in a lemon-yellow chair nearest the window, her grandmother changed the subject. “I noticed you coaxed Violet out into the sunshine earlier today. Well done.”
She had, though it had taken the promise that she would read Pride and Prejudice aloud to her to achieve the feat. “I wish I could have done more. Why does she insist on living down there at the cottage?”
“Have you asked her?”
“Repeatedly. She refuses to leave. I did offer up a quote you might recall.” At her grandmother’s lifted brow, Flora continued. “‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’”
“Well done, my dear.” With a soft sigh, Grandmama appeared to turn her attention to the trim on a pillow at her side.
“I won’t stop trying. She is just as much a member of this family as I am, and I hate it that she will not be attending the ball.”
“Flora, dear, you must be patient.”
How could she be, with Brimmfield slipping a little further from her grasp every day? “She is happy there, isn’t she?”
“I believe she is,” Grandmama said. “Violet has all the comforts of Brimmfield without the invasion of privacy that too often happens here in this house. For now, at least, the cottage suits her. I hope someday soon that will change. In fact, I plan to have her accompany me to take the waters next year. I think it would be quite beneficial. Now, may we speak of something else before your father barges in and interrupts us?”
Violet take the waters? Yes, Lord, please. “Of course.”
“I’ve worked hard to keep our family name unsullied. Do not leave out any of the details when you tell me what your plans are with Mr. McMinn.”
“Plans with Lucas?” Flora let out a long breath. For once, the demands of the Brimm matriarch did not frighten her.
“Ladies, are you in there?”
One gray brow rose as Flora’s grandmother continued to watch her. “We are, son.”
Father opened the door, his expression far from grim. “Thank you for your discretion in giving me time alone with Mr. McMinn.” He crossed the room to hand Grandmama her ear trumpet.
“I trust you had a worthwhile conversation in our absence,” she said as she fitted the device to her ear.
“Yes, very.” Father turned his attention to Flora. “You will give your best cooperation to the Pinkerton agent, though you may continue to vex him should he broach propriety.”
Flora grinned. “I shall, though I doubt that will be a concern.”
Father and Grandmama exchanged a look. “Of course,” he said before making his excuses and his escape.
“Do you love him?”
“No, of course not, Grandmama. Why on earth would I love Lucas McMinn?”
Another smile, this one much slower to grow into a broad grin. “Oh, dear, it’s much worse than I expected. You’re completely smitten and vexed all the same.”
Ire rose, as did Flora. “Truly, Grandmama, I thought you were on my side.”
“I am, dear. I just find it interesting that when I said him, you assumed I was speaking of Mr. McMinn.” She gave Flora a pointed look. “You’d best get that sorted in your mind before you marry the wrong man.”
The next evening in preparation for the ball in her honor, Flora had Lucy lace her corset tighter than usual. She did this only because she didn’t want to give those who tended to gossip a reason to suspect she had any cause to marry quickly other than for love. If only love really was the cause, she silently lamented.
Duty would have to suffice.
She held tight to the bedpost and held her breath in while Lucy completed the work of perfecting her tiny waist. As the process of dressing continued, she allowed herself to think of the plan she and Lucas had agreed upon.
This afternoon’s reception had gone very well, mostly because he had not been required to attend after all and her grandmother had not mentioned their conversation of the previous evening. Though Grandmama’s friends grilled her without ceasing about every detail of her engagement, Flora was able to handle the questions and returned to her bedchamber exhausted but ready for the next event.
Lucy completed her dressing duties and stepped back to offer Flora the mirror. A nod and the maid was gone, leaving Flora alone. Again she went to the window, and this time when she saw the light in the cottage window across from her, she smiled. “It’s Wednesday,” she whispered. “Two more days and our problem is solved.”
A knock diverted Flora’s attention. She went to answer the door and found Lucas standing there. Gone was the Pinkerton agent with little regard for fashion or society. In his place stood a well-groomed and well-dressed gentleman with a smile that appeared to be only for her.
“Breathtaking,” he said in a voice so soft that she wondered if she had actually been meant to hear.
He offered his arm, and together they walked down to the ballroom, where the band was playing a sedate violin concerto by Vivaldi. At Flora’s arrival, the conductor gave the signal to cease the music. Someone must have sent word to Father and Grandmama that they were on their way down, because both of the elder Brimms awaited Flora and Lucas on the dais.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my daughter Flora and the man who has undertaken the daunting task of seeing to her well-being, Mr. Lucas McMinn.”
Interesting how Father managed to speak the truth while giving the impression that Lucas and I are, indeed, engaged.
A round of applause filled the ballroom. “While I’ll not ask Mr. McMinn to make a speech at this juncture, I will ask him if he would lead off the dancing tonight.”
The next thing Flora realized, Lucas was leading her around the dance floor and the tune had switched to a waltz. Other dancers joined them, including Simon Honeycutt’s parents. As the older pair danced closer to Flora and Lucas, she began to cringe.
“What is it?” Lucas asked.
“Mrs. Honeycutt. I don’t know what to say to her. It’s just awful whenever I see her.”
A breath of laughter was in his voice. “Yes, I’ve seen the lengths you go to avoid her.”
He moved her deftly around a slower-moving couple and picked up the thread of conversation once more. “What do you wish you could tell her?”
“How very sorry I am about Simon.” She paused. “How deeply I cared for him. And how much I still miss his smile.”
He slowed their pace to match the Honeycutts just as the waltz ended. “Then that’s what you need to tell her.”
For the first time since meeting Lucas, Flora decided to take his advice. Once they had parted, she reached out to Mrs. Honeycutt, and after a long hug, she told her dear friend’s mother exactly how she felt. Though tears fell, Flora walked away from the conversation with a deep peace and gratitude that the Lord had somehow used Lucas McMinn’s wise words to restore a once-lost relationship.
“That was very nice of you,” Grandmama said a moment later, discreetly handing Flora a scented handkerchief. “I’m sure Miriam heard what she’d hoped from you.”
As Flora dabbed daintily at her eyes, she looked out over the crowd and saw Lucas deep in conversation with her father. “What she’d hoped?”
“Yes, dear. All she’s ever wanted to hear from you is how very dear Simon was to you. She just needed to know he was loved.”
Flora smiled. “I told her that.”
“Good girl.” Grandmama patted her arm. “Now I must go and mingle.”
Seeing that the ballroom doors were open to the balcony overlooking the gardens, Flora slipped outside to breathe in the night air. Strains of a vaguely familiar song drifted toward her on the breeze and settled deep in her heart. As with the last time she stood beneath the stars, Flora found the night sky far too beautiful for words.
“Lovely,” Lucas said as he came to stand beside her.
She rested her palms on the rail and let out a long breath. “Yes, the night is beautiful.”
“No, Flora,” he said gently. “I meant you.”
“Thank you.” She slid a glance in his direction with a smile. “You clean up quite nicely yourself.”
A dip of his head served as his thanks. How long they stood side by side, Flora couldn’t say. All the while her conscience niggled at her until finally she turned to face Lucas.
“I need to apologize to you.”
“Oh?” He lifted a dark brow. “For what?”
She smiled. “Though I’m sure it would be far more satisfying if I offered up a laundry list of offences to which I would plead an apology, suffice it to say that I realize I’ve been a pain. Worse, I have put myself and your investigation in danger on more than one occasion.”
“You have indeed.” Lucas showed the beginnings of his own smile. “Am I to understand you are mending your ways?”
“Mending is such a harsh term. I think I prefer amending.”
Lucas chuckled. “And what’s the difference, other than one vowel?”
“I am amending the ways I already have. Not changing, but rather refining them.” She shrugged as she struggled to keep a straight face. “You see the difference, of course.”
“Is that something you learned at that fancy ladies school?”
She turned back to the rail. “I assure you that very little of what I learned at Dillingham Ladies Preparatory School has been of any use to me since I met you.” She laughed. “I think my gentle education has been more of a hindrance, actually.”
A round of applause indicated the music had ended. Flora looked at him again, and her breath caught as she noticed the angles of his face silhouetted in the moonlight. The cut of his coat and the turned up corners of his smile.
Though the entire image formed an unimaginably handsome whole, the true beauty of this man was in his tenacious search for justice. Whoever this Mary-Margaret person was, his quest was on her behalf. And right or wrong, the loyalty he felt to her was what led him to seek answers in the person of Will Tucker.
It was a revelation. Flora felt as if she were seeing Lucas McMinn for the first time.
Once again the strains of a violin drifted toward her. “Beau Soir,” she whispered.
“By special request,” Lucas said as he reached out toward her. “May I have this dance?”
Flora smiled. “I would be delighted.”
Lucas swept her into his arms, her feet barely touching the ground as they danced. This time it was she who began to sing, and only after the first verse did he join her. They circled around the balcony with the stars for a canopy until the song ended.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said though he made no move to step away.
“Your French is flawless.”
“Merci.”
She met his eyes and then moved out of his arms to twirl as the next song began. “It makes me wonder whether you learned the language at home or took instruction elsewhere.”
He lifted a brow as he stood in place. Apparently, he was finished dancing even if she was not. “Flora,” he said softly, “please leave the detective work to me.”
Coming up to him and offering her most petulant face, the one that almost always worked on her father, Flora decided to try another attempt at prying information from the secretive lawman. “But I know nothing about you, Lucas. After all we’ve been through together, can’t you tell me anything more than the meager details you’ve shared?”
Lucas leaned closer, his lips almost grazing her ear. “Flora?” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“The answer is no.”
She feigned irritation. “That’s not fair, Lucas. Just tell me one more thing about you.”
“One thing?” He shrugged. “For some unknown reason, I like dancing with you.” With this declaration, he drew her close and once again set her in motion to the sound of the orchestra. It was a waltz, though a slow one, and conversation soon became impossible because she was completely mesmerized by the feeling of being held in his arms.
But when the music ended, she found her voice. “Who are you, Lucas McMinn? Really?”
His chuckle was soft, his expression softer. Slowly he slid her a look. “All right, Flora. I suppose you’ve earned a little trust.” He angled closer. “I went to Natchez Under-the-Hill last night to meet with my best friend Kyle. He’s a Pinkerton agent too. We joined up together, and until he was assigned to the Denver division and I to the Chicago office, we hadn’t been apart much since we were little boys growing up in New Orleans. And he’s not only a fellow Pinkerton, but he’s also my collaborator on many of the inventions you’ve seen me use. There. Now you know a little something about me.”
Lucas gave her a satisfied look and once again was about to set her in motion. This time she dug in her heels and stalled his dancing.
“That’s it?” She shook her head. “Your best friend, Kyle, is an inventor and a Pinkerton agent?”
He shrugged. “Yes, that’s it. However, you may meet him in New Orleans. Maybe you can get more out of him than you can out of me, though I doubt it.”
She moved away from him to lean against the rail. “You’re not working on this case alone?”
“Not anymore,” he said as he came to stand beside her. “Kyle has information that says your Mr. Tucker booked passage to New Orleans. When you showed me the note, I was only half surprised.”
“Why half?”
“Because you only showed me half the note, Flora.”
She jerked her attention up at him. How had he known this?
His green eyes narrowed. “Where are you meeting him?”
“Who is Mary-Margaret?”
He stepped back as if she’d pushed him. And maybe in a way she had.
“One question has nothing to do with the other,” he said through a clenched jaw.
“Not true.” Flora reached to close the distance between them and then placed her hand atop his. “I need to know if I can trust you, Lucas. You say I’ve earned a little trust. Show me by answering my question.”
He let out a long breath. “She was someone I loved.”
“I see.”
Disappointment obviously colored her words, for Lucas shook his head. “Not in the way you think. She was family.”
Family. Her heart sank even as a tiny part of her felt relief at knowing she was not standing in the shadow of some used-to-be love. “Was?”
“Yes, and as you may have guessed, she is the reason I began this quest to find Tucker.” He paused. “She is not the reason I continue it, however.”
“And what is that?”
“You, Flora. Even though you’re obviously in this for what you will gain from your grandfather’s will, you don’t deserve what Tucker will do to you.”
She squeezed his hand. “How sentimental.”
“There’s no room for sentiment in a Pinkerton’s life,” he said slowly as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Liar.”
“What did you say?”
She grinned. “Oh, come now. You make your life sound so…” Flora searched for just the right word. “Dire. Yes, that’s it. You sound so dire.”
“Dire?” He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is when a Pinkerton is on the job, there should be no distraction to interfere. Sentiment can be dangerous. It can get me killed.”
He thought of the information Kyle had forwarded to him this afternoon on Winthrop Brimm and his mounting debts. Any of the men to whom Brimm owed money might decide Flora posed too great a threat should she be allowed to marry.
“Lucas?”
He softened his expression. “And right now it could get you killed too.”
“Oh, please. There is nothing dangerous in this investigation. At the worst you will capture a man who has been doing some bad things, though none of them worth killing someone over.” Flora paused as an awful thought occurred. “Oh, no. You don’t think he killed her, do you? Your Mary-Margaret? She’s dead, isn’t she.”
“She is.”
“Is Mr. Tucker suspected of her murder?”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “No,” he said slowly, “he is not.”
“There, you see?” She shrugged. “I’m very sorry for your loss, but once you talk to him and he shows you his credentials, everything will be just fine.”
“What credentials?” he asked, suddenly alert.
Flora pressed her lips shut. She’d said too much. What was it about the moonlight and the nearness of Lucas McMinn that had her wanting to talk without thinking first?
“Flora,” he said, his voice deep and very serious. “If you know something that is pertinent to this investigation and you don’t tell me, be it the particulars of your upcoming appointment or the details of Tucker’s credentials, you’re going to be considered just as guilty as he is.”
“In this country a person is considered innocent until proven guilty, Lucas McMinn, and you know that is the truth. As for those other things?” She paused to swipe at an errant curl loosened by the evening breeze. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“Trust you?”
She looked up into his beautiful green eyes and smiled. “I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating because you tend to forget. You and I are on the same side. We both want Mr. Tucker caught. And since I simply cannot marry a man with any sort of cloud of suspicion hanging over him—or us—I also want all the facts out so the matter can be handled with the utmost expediency.”
“Then tell me what you know and be done with it—”
“I made a promise, Lucas. And even though I’ve come to care deeply for you, I have not yet found a reason to break that promise. You’re just going to have to wait.”
There was something new in his eyes as his hand closed over hers. “Flora Brimm, did you just admit that you care for me?”
She had. Heat climbed into her cheeks as she searched for a way to undo the damage she’d just done. For nothing good could come of admitting her growing feelings for this man.
Nothing at all.
“Well…of course, I do,” she said as casually as she could manage. “You and I are on the same side of this endeavor. Why wouldn’t I wish the best for you?’
“That’s not what you said, Flora.” His voice was low and gentle, his hand suddenly warm atop hers.
Strains of a violin solo drifted past. Grandmama’s favorite. She would have Father out on the dance floor for her lone dance of the evening. And then she would plead her usual headache and retire, leaving the “young ones” to their merriment.
Life certainly went on as usual at Brimmfield, even when everything else in her life seemed doomed to tumble forth and change.
“Flora?” Lucas urged her attention to return to him by gently lifting her chin. “You said you care deeply for me. Did you mean it?”
She gazed into his eyes and found she couldn’t look away. “You know, Lucas, I did learn one thing at school. A lady is never the first to speak of such things.”
The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile. “Is that so?”
“It is,” she said as she leaned slightly forward. “My deportment teacher was adamant.”
His arm went around her waist, his palm pressing against her spine, drawing her close. “Adamant? Sounds like any sort of violation of that rule might cause a real problem.”
“Problem,” she echoed as she lifted up onto her toes. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Yes,” he said softly, his lips nearly touching hers. “Absolutely.”
And then he kissed her.
“Flora,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you have me roped up and moonstruck.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“A very good thing, though I don’t think we ought to advertise that fact.”
“No?” she said softly.
“No.” He kissed her again.
And then came the applause.
Flora turned around to see that all of Natchez society, including her father, had come to stand by the open ballroom doors during their kiss. Apparently Grandmama had already pleaded her headache and left, or she likely would be up front offering her opinion.
“Bravo,” someone called.
“Bravo, indeed,” another shouted.
Lucas immediately did what he did best. He took charge.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse us, I believe my intended and I are going to enjoy a walk in the moonlight.”
They descended the stairs that led down to the garden hand in hand and walked away to the fading sound of more applause and the rising notes of a brisk tune. At the edge of the garden, he paused and took her in his arms again. “About what happened back there…”
She looked up, hoping to see love, devotion, or at least the need to kiss her again. Instead, his handsome features gave no indication of his feelings, though his embrace told her otherwise.
“We should go back inside. I don’t want your father coming after me with the pruning shears.”
“I think my father’s going to allow us our walk. It’s what would be expected of the father of the bride-to-be, and my father always does what is expected.”
“I see.” He reluctantly released her but then took her hand again in his warm clasp. “Then that means we have some time to discuss this investigation a little more. If you don’t trust me now that I’ve admitted I’m falling for you faster than a buggy down an icy road, I don’t know what will.”
“True, though it might help if you kissed me again.”
He lifted a dark brow. “Flora, you are incorrigible.”
Flora’s grip on his hand tightened. “Come with me, Lucas. I want you to meet someone.”
“You’re trying to divert my attention,” he said. “Trust me with the rest of the information Tucker sent you.”
“All right. Mr. Tucker has set a meeting place for Friday.”
“What time and where?”
She shook her head and dropped his hand. “I’ve told you enough for now,” she said as she moved down the gravel path that led through the garden.
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not escaping that easily.” He caught up to her and wrapped one arm around her waist to stop her progress.
“I’m not escaping. Remember, I’m amending my ways.”
“Right. I’d almost forgotten. So where is it you think you’re going?”
“We’re both going.” Flora nodded toward the end of the path, a destination hidden by the cottonwoods and gardens. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
He hauled her close, his palm pressing against her spine. “No tricks,” he whispered.
“No tricks.”
The moonlight filtered through the leaves of the cottonwood tree and splashed his features with silver. He dipped his head to kiss her again, and after his lips at last left hers and she looked up at him, she saw that the errant lock of hair she’d noticed yesterday had fallen onto his forehead again. When she reached to slip it back into place, he wrapped her hand in his.
“Flora,” he said softly, “developing any sort of feelings for you is the worst thing I could do as a lawman. You do understand that.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“All right. Lead on.”