Six

Simon released a silent breath of relief when the preacher said the final “amen” and dismissed the service. It wasn’t that the sermon was lacking or that it hadn’t spoken to his heart. . .it had, but he felt uneasy leaving Torey home all alone after Frank had told him about the man standing outside their home. Yesterday, at least, Katherine had been upstairs and could have rousted herself had the man returned and threatened either of the women.

He fingered his moustache. For all he knew, the girl was in no danger from whoever had been lurking about the house. Perhaps she was an accomplice in a plot to harm or defraud him and his mother. Regardless, he didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone. There were too many unknowns.

Tapping his foot, he waited in the carriage while his mother spoke at length with Reverend Graham. He eyed the pair, willing them to hurry.

“Stop fidgeting, Simon,” Katherine admonished from her seat across from him. “You squirmed all during the preacher’s sermon. I was ashamed of you.”

Her outrage struck a humorous chord with Simon, but he tried to hide his smirk. “At my age, one would think I’d have learned to sit still in church.”

“I completely agree. It’s little enough the Lord asks of us to come and worship once a week with our fellow believers. The least you could do is pay attention.”

“I’ll do better next time.” He smiled fondly at the housekeeper. “I promise.”

She jerked her chin and stared out the carriage window. “You needn’t promise me. It’s the Lord you should be worrying about offending. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, trying to hide your laughter behind that ridiculous moustache.”

Simon forced himself to sober. The woman took her faith very seriously and had an enviable respect for the Lord. He’d wager she wouldn’t allow herself to fidget in church if she had an ant crawling up her arm. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I have no business teasing you.”

Fortunately for Simon, Katherine had never been able to stay annoyed at him for long. She gave him an indulgent smile. “I forgive you. Ah, here comes your mother.”

Simon opened the carriage door and stepped out.

His mother smiled sweetly as he helped her onto her seat next to Katherine, then climbed in after her. “Thank you, Son.” Mother sat heavily, trying to catch her breath. After adjusting her hat and smoothing her dress, she eyed Simon. “I told Reverend Graham that you want to hire someone to protect us—as though the angels of the Lord aren’t encamped about us—and he said he’d keep a lookout for someone suitable.”

“The angels may be hovering over the house, but they didn’t keep Father from being killed, did they?”

Katherine and his mother gasped in unison. “Son, I know you have an ax to grind with the Lord right now, but I won’t have you blaspheming.”

“For shame,” Katherine clucked. “You need to evaluate your relationship with God, young man. I don’t think you’re where you think you are.”

Simon looked from one scowling woman to the other. He sighed. They were both more than likely correct. His father’s death had taken a spiritual toll on him. He’d become cynical, if not bitter. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if God had allowed him to get back to the theatre booth a few moments sooner. Maybe he could have saved the man who had always been the foundation of his world.

Sometimes, going into his father’s study at home sent waves of physical pain through Simon’s chest, so great was his grief. Immersed in thought, he stared out the window, watching the cobblestone street roll past. The hypnotic effect combined with the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves sent nostalgia through him. A longing clenched his chest—not only for his earthly father but also a longing for the closeness he’d once shared with his heavenly Father. Still, a part of him couldn’t let go of the raging inside, the “why?” of it all.

Father shouldn’t be dead. He had never hurt anyone and was known in life as a generous man. He gave without expecting anything in return. This hackney was proof of that. When their driver had approached Father with a desire to start a business hiring out his own carriage, Father had not only released the man from service but had also extended him a loan and sold him their carriage at a low rate. Then, rather than buying another carriage and hiring another driver, Father made a standing arrangement with their former driver and paid for a ride wherever he went—including the Sunday ventures to church.

Simon hadn’t necessarily agreed with the arrangement, but when he’d voiced his concern over whether this was a sound financial decision, Father had bluntly told him that as a child of God he conducted personal business the way he believed God would. Those words had ended the argument before it had even begun. Father’s steadfast belief that it was more blessed to give than to receive was a principle by which he lived his life.

Oh, how Simon missed him. He didn’t want to blame God, but he knew in his heart that he did. And although he was willing to forgive, the feelings weren’t there yet. He also knew that even if he renewed his trust in God, he could never forgive the man who had killed his father.

The memory of Father gasping for breath while he lay in Simon’s arms haunted him. The dying man had taken a weak fistful of Simon’s shirt and tried to pull him close. Simon leaned closer so he could hear. “Giiieee. . .” Puzzled, but unwilling to cause Father undue anxiety in the last seconds of life, Simon hadn’t pressed for clarity. He’d simply smiled through tears and kissed his father’s hand, assuring him.

The longer Simon thought about the incident over the next few days, the more he convinced himself that his father was saying, “Get him.” So he’d made a decision that he would look for the killer for the rest of his life if he had to. The man would get what he had coming.

“Looks like Abe got loose again.” Mother’s amused voice brought Simon back from his memories.

Katherine grunted. “That dog is a menace. He should be locked up.”

Simon glanced out the window as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the wrought-iron gate. Frank held Abe firmly by his collar and spoke to Torey. Simon frowned. Was it his imagination, or did Torey appear to be distressed?

Simon exited first and helped the ladies from the carriage; then he paid the driver and headed up the walk.

Frank darted a gaze to him. Was that a nervous look?

Simon focused on Torey. Her face was drained of color, making her wide violet eyes even more pronounced.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”

“My fault, I’m afraid,” Frank said quickly. A little too quickly? “Abe escaped again. I reckon I didn’t get his pen locked when I fed him this morning. Before I knew it, he dashed out and headed right over here.” He scratched his balding head with arthritic fingers. “Can’t imagine why ol’ Abe loves this place so much. Shot right through the house and into the kitchen just like he knew where he was headed.”

Katherine sniffed. “Any dog with even a little sense can smell a chicken roasting in the oven.” She scowled at the gardener and stomped past. “You should train him to stay home!”

Watching the exchange hadn’t deterred Simon one bit. Up close, he could see that Torey trembled. This was more than the dog running into the house. “What else happened?”

Torey shot a glance at Frank, her wide eyes speaking volumes to him. And for some reason, Frank forsook his loyalty to Simon—loyalty built of years of acquaintanceship. He shrugged. “Reckon that’s all I’m at liberty to say. I best get this animal back home.”

“And I need to help Katherine prepare lunch.” Torey took off before Simon could detain her and demand answers.

He let out a frustrated grunt and watched her scramble up the front steps and disappear into the house.

Something wasn’t as it seemed with that girl, and he had every intention of discovering what was going on in his household. In the meantime, he planned to devote as much of his day tomorrow as necessary to securing a guard for the house.

❧

Torey barely made it through lunch without losing every bite she forced down. Her overwrought nerves threatened to snap any second. She kept a tight rein on her emotions, not allowing the tears that welled up in unguarded moments.

Thankfully, Frank had agreed to her plea not to tell Simon about the hired thug. It had taken some convincing before he would believe the Crawfords were in no danger from the man—only she was at risk. She’d finally persuaded him that she alone was the target, and if she thought for one moment Simon or Mrs. Crawford—and yes, even Katherine—were in any danger, she’d immediately confide in Simon. For some blessed reason, Frank had agreed.

“Torey dear, are you feeling poorly?”

Torey looked up from her plate to find Mrs. Crawford studying her, a frown of concern creasing her brow.

“Perhaps a–a little. May I be excused? If you will notify me when you’re all finished eating, I’ll come back down and clean up.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” she replied firmly. “Go and get into bed. You’ve most likely caught the same thing that ailed poor Katherine yesterday.”

Nearly weak with relief to have the convenient excuse, Torey nodded. She stood and scraped her plate into the refuse pile. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll be in my room lying down.”

Thus far, Torey had avoided Simon’s gaze, fearful of what she might discover in the depths of his eyes. But as though drawn of their own volition, her eyes looked at him. Just as she’d feared, he studied her, suspicion clouding every feature. His expression veiled an admonition not to bring trouble to their household. She averted her gaze immediately.

“I’ll be up to check on you later, Torey dear.”

“Thank you.” Barely able to contain the tears choking her voice, Torey couldn’t say anything else. She knew that when the woman came to her room, it would be the last time they saw one another. Torey couldn’t take a chance that Amos might harm one hair on Mrs. Crawford’s precious head. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stay in this lovely home.

Dragging her legs up the steps to her room, she forced herself to consider what might happen if she didn’t go away. Her mind spun with planning her departure, though her heart nearly broke at the thought.

She had no choice but to keep the dress she wore, as the one she had arrived in had long since been burned. But she would leave money on the nightstand to pay for it. The rest of her savings should last for a few days if she spent frugally and found another position as quickly as possible.

Or perhaps she should spend part of her meager funds and purchase a train ticket to someplace where she could make a fresh start. New York City, maybe? Amos would never find her there, and as large as that city was, she shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a suitable position.

She stretched out on her bed, knowing she had to wait until at least six. If she left earlier than dusk, she ran the risk of someone observing her departure. Then she’d be forced to admit Amos was looking for her. Or rather that he’d found her.

Mrs. Crawford had her reasons for not informing Simon that Torey had run away from home or why, and Torey wanted to respect her wishes. Besides, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of making Simon privy to the information in the first place. He would probably consider her an accomplice and would want to take her to the police.

Torey closed her eyes. From experience she knew she’d better sleep as much as possible now. If she couldn’t find a place to sleep tonight, she wouldn’t sleep at all.

Only five hours remained until dusk. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the hair at her temples and dampening her pillow.

Five hours before she left this wonderful place behind for good.

❧

Sweat beaded on Amos’s forehead. His jaw dropped open, and he stared unbelievingly into John Shepherd’s smug, wrinkled face. He wanted to ask the old man to repeat what he’d just said, but he knew he would hear the same thing again.

“I can see by the look on your face I’m right.” The scrawny, nearly toothless man stared hard, his eyes glittering like onyx. “This changes the dynamics of our relationship quite a bit. Wouldn’t you say?”

“B–but how did you find out? No one knows but. . .” His eyes widened.

Mr. Shepherd cackled. The “apes” to his right and left chuckled on cue. “It seems I’m more adept at finding those I’m looking for than you are.”

“You mean, you’ve been looking for Torey?” If the old coot had found the girl, he had no reason to honor their agreement. Amos was as good as dead. He glanced at the apes and could feel their meaty fingers around his neck, squeezing the life from him.

Amos swallowed the bile rising in his throat and inwardly kicked himself for not being more forceful about finding her, even if it had meant combing the streets himself.

“I know precisely where she is.” Mr. Shepherd leaned forward in his brown leather wing chair. “Now, I have an amendment to our original agreement. Sit down and let’s talk.”

Eyeing the man warily, Amos did as he was bidden. He preferred to stand, but one didn’t remain on his feet when John Shepherd commanded otherwise.

“If you know where my stepdaughter is, then I assume you have no intention of honoring our agreement?”

Mr. Graham gave him a look of mock indignation. “Of course I intend to keep my end of the bargain. I will honor all of your debts and pay you handsomely—when you deliver the girl to me.”

“But if you already know where she is. . .”

“Yes, but I am not a kidnapper. I have decided I need someone to accompany me to events. Someone beautiful and completely devoted to me. Your job is to convince the lovely Victoria to come to me willingly. I do not want a slave. I am too old to put up with an unhappy woman in my home. I have discovered life is much easier if a man keeps his woman happy. You may think me foolish, but I am ready to invest in a mutually beneficial relationship with your stepdaughter.”

Taken aback, Amos could only stare. He’d known for some time the old fool was enamored of Torey. And who wouldn’t be? She’d always been polite to the old man, and he’d soaked up every smile. He’d watched her like a hawk, growing fonder of her as she grew older. Why hadn’t Amos initiated a financial arrangement earlier? He inwardly kicked himself at his oversight.

Shepherd grinned. “I can see you doubt my sincerity.”

“Oh, no, Sir! I’m just not quite sure I understand. Are you offering Torey marriage?”

“Perhaps, eventually. For now, I am offering her security and protection. She’ll have anything she wants as long as she keeps me happy.”

“And you think my ability to deliver her willingly to you is worth your silence about the man I killed?”

“You would do well to accept my generous offer. Convince the girl that my proposal is in her best interest, and you will have no worries. Unlike you, I keep my word.”

Heat seared Amos’s neck and ears. Oh, how he wished he could throw John Shepherd’s offer in his face, but he knew he had no choice. Not only did he have to get time alone with Torey, he had to convince her that her reputation and virtue were worth a life with this shriveled old fiend sitting across the desk from him. It wasn’t going to be easy. But what choice did he have?

He drew in a quick breath and nodded. “All right. Where is she?”