6

Agatha looked around Grand Central Depot, relishing the sight of so many people bustling past her. She’d missed the city, missed the energy it held, but now, finally, she was home. She tugged Matilda’s leash and pulled the pig away from something she was trying to eat off the ground before turning to Drusilla. “It’s wonderful to be back, isn’t it?”

Drusilla, for some unknown reason, had once again pulled out her opera glasses and was peering off into the distance. “Yes, ah, wonderful.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for Zayne and Mr. Blackheart. I have no idea what could possibly be keeping them so long.”

“I told you, Mr. Blackheart informed me when I went to fetch them after the train stopped that he had yet to make Zayne presentable and that they’d be along directly.”

“We’ll be waiting forever, then, because . . .” Drusilla’s lips suddenly thinned as her scanning stopped. “Oh, for the love of . . .”

“What?”

Handing over the opera glasses, Drusilla rolled her eyes. “Take a look for yourself.”

Lifting the glasses, Agatha turned in the direction Drusilla had been gazing and caught sight of Mr. Blackheart and Zayne in the distance. Frowning, she pressed the glasses closer to her eyes, as if that might change the image she was seeing. “Good heavens, what happened to Zayne? Mr. Blackheart seems to be holding him up and . . .” She lowered the glasses, wiped the lenses on her sleeve, and looked through them once again. “Hmm . . . I wasn’t seeing things. Zayne’s freshly shaven face looks like it’s soaking wet and it’s very pale.”

“It’s pale because his face hasn’t seen the sun for months, buried as it was underneath all that hair.”

“But . . . why do you suppose he looks so wet? You don’t think Mr. Blackheart encouraged him to bathe, do you? But . . . no, that doesn’t make any sense because surely he’d have dried off before leaving the train, wouldn’t he?”

Drusilla suddenly let out a snort, a sound Agatha had never once heard come out of the woman’s mouth. Pulling her attention away from Zayne, she settled it on her companion. “What?”

“I think Zayne’s supposed to be perspiring—profusely.”

“Supposed to be perspiring?”

“Gentlemen have no subtlety when it comes to matters of a devious nature, and these particular gentlemen are definitely abysmal plotters.”

“Well that certainly clears everything up for me.”

Drusilla waved her hand impatiently toward the men. “I’m reluctant to admit that I think this fresh bout of madness might be my fault.”

“You’re still being annoyingly vague.”

Drusilla took hold of Agatha’s arm. “I hope you won’t be too distressed with me, dear, but I was beginning to have some concerns regarding the business of tracking Willie down, and . . . I made mention of my concerns to Mr. Blackheart.”

“You’re consorting with the enemy now?”

“Really, Agatha, Mr. Blackheart isn’t exactly the enemy. He’s been charged with the daunting task of keeping you alive, and setting you loose on New York to search for Willie isn’t exactly the best way to help him achieve that goal.”

“And you believe voicing those concerns is what’s behind Zayne’s fragile and wet appearance?”

“I have to admit I do.” Drusilla shrugged. “Given the fact that Mr. Blackheart didn’t have much time before we reached New York, I imagine what we’re seeing now is the only plan he was able to come up with on such short notice.” She patted Agatha’s arm. “Since you’ve been rather vocal regarding the idea you want to see Zayne recover, I think Mr. Blackheart has convinced him to assume a fragile demeanor in order to persuade you to offer to look after him until he gets better.”

“That’s a horrible plan.”

“True, but it would keep you off the streets if you were to agree.”

Agatha lifted her chin. “I have no intention of agreeing. I didn’t travel back to the city in order to hide away from whatever danger might still be stalking me.”

“You don’t want to spend more time in Zayne’s company?”

“I thought we agreed you’d cease your attempts at matchmaking, Drusilla.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

Lifting the glasses once again, Agatha found Zayne and Mr. Blackheart still standing in the same spot. Her lips curled as she watched Zayne raise a hand and wipe his brow in a dramatic gesture. His wiping suddenly stopped when Mr. Blackheart shook his head and dropped his hold on him. Agatha couldn’t help but notice the telling fact that Zayne seemed to have no trouble standing on his own, especially since he began walking backward without the use of the cane he held in one hand when Mr. Blackheart plucked a towel out of the sack he was holding. Her mouth dropped open when the man then proceeded to try and wring water out of the towel, right over Zayne’s head. Heated words seemed to be exchanged as the men struggled for possession of the towel, but then both of them stilled, looked her way, leaned forward as if they were trying to ascertain whether or not she was watching them, and waved rather feebly back at her.

Lowering the glasses, she caught Drusilla’s eye. “I might have to go along with this nonsense if only to see how far those two are willing to go in order to retain my cooperation.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, and while you’re catering to Zayne and his nonexistent illness, I’ll start looking for Willie.”

“Forgive me, Drusilla, but you’re hardly qualified to search the slums for a man.”

“You’d be surprised by what I’m qualified to do.”

Before Agatha had an opportunity to respond to that telling, yet slightly confusing, statement, someone called out her name.

Turning, she found none other than Mr. Hamilton Beckett, Zayne’s older brother, striding through the crowd toward her, a welcoming smile on his handsome face. Passing Matilda’s leash over to Drusilla, Agatha hurried to meet him. “Hamilton, this is a delightful surprise.”

Hamilton grinned right before he swept her into a strong embrace, lifted her off her feet, gave her a good squeeze, and finally returned her to the ground. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised to see me, Agatha. I knew to the minute when the train was due, and I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of welcoming you and my brother back to New York.” He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Zayne?”

“He’ll be along soon. He’s plotting, er, talking with Mr. Blackheart at the moment.”

Hamilton moved a little closer to her. “Since he’s not here yet, tell me, how is he?”

Agatha bit her lip. “He’s . . . different.”

“Because of his leg?”

“While his leg is certainly damaged, it’s more his spirit I was referring to.”

“That’s what I’ve been afraid of, but I do hope you realize how grateful I am, along with the rest of my family, for your having convinced Zayne to come home. You’ve done us a great service, although”—he narrowed his eyes—“you must know you’ve put yourself in danger by bringing him back to us.”

Waving his concern away, Agatha smiled. “I was getting tired of traveling, so I would have come home soon even if I hadn’t run into Zayne. And, just so you know, I didn’t really convince Zayne to come home. It was a case of my blowing up his reason for being in Colorado that prompted his return to the city.”

“You blew something up?”

“With dynamite,” Drusilla added as she joined them, tugging an obviously reluctant Matilda beside her. She handed the leash to Agatha. “It’s good to see you, Hamilton.”

Hamilton smiled at Drusilla, but his smile dimmed when he glanced down. “Is that a pig?”

Matilda let out a grunt right before she disappeared under Agatha’s skirt. Lifting her head, Agatha grinned. “She is a P-I-G, but she’s sensitive about that word, so you probably should stick to calling her Matilda.”

“And you have this Matilda because . . . ?” Hamilton pressed.

“It’s a long story,” Agatha admitted.

Hamilton considered her for a second, and then his eyes widened as he turned to Drusilla. “Did you say something about dynamite?”

“I’m afraid I did, and I’m afraid dynamite ignited by our very own Agatha was what put a rapid end to your brother’s mining venture.” Drusilla smiled. “Although, to be fair, it was an accident, because she certainly didn’t intend to blow up that mine with all of us in it.”

Hamilton looked from Drusilla, to Agatha, and then back to Drusilla again. “You let her near dynamite?”

Drusilla narrowed her eyes. “If you’ll recall, I was hired to provide her with extra protection, but protecting her from dynamite was never part of the . . .” Her voice trailed off, she sent Agatha a guilty look, and then promptly gestured to a lady wearing an extraordinarily large hat. “My goodness, would you look at that. I have to wonder if we’ve missed some new fashion trend while we traveled around the West. And if that’s the case, I’m going—”

“What do you mean, you were hired to provide me with extra protection?” Agatha interrupted. “I was under the impression you were simply my paid companion.”

Drusilla stopped watching the hat lady and frowned at Agatha. “There’s nothing simple about being your companion, Agatha.”

Hamilton cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Drusilla, if I’ve allowed something to slip, but I simply can’t believe you never got around to telling her.”

“I didn’t think she’d take it well,” Drusilla reluctantly admitted.

“Take what well?” Agatha demanded.

“Yes, take what well?” Mr. Blackheart asked as he stopped right beside her, handing Zayne his cane before he turned and glared at Drusilla.

All thoughts of questioning Drusilla further about her obvious duplicity slipped right out of Agatha’s mind as she got a good look at Zayne. His face, refreshingly devoid of hair, thereby bringing attention to his classic features, was now drenched, as if Mr. Blackheart had stumbled upon a basin of water and had dumped that water directly over Zayne’s head. Zayne was trying, not very successfully, to pretend he wasn’t sopping wet, while Mr. Blackheart had apparently forgotten all about Zayne as he glared rather menacingly at Drusilla.

“What didn’t you get around to telling Miss Watson?” Mr. Blackheart demanded.

“I don’t care for your tone of voice, Mr. Blackheart,” Drusilla said with a sniff. “And . . . you’re disrupting what is certain to be a very touching reunion between Hamilton and Zayne.” She stepped aside and waved a hand at the two brothers. “Well, get on with it.”

Reluctant admiration over the gumption of her companion had Agatha’s annoyance with the woman disappearing in a flash. She, having all too often found herself in the middle of the frying pan, had frequently employed such diversion tactics, and—

“Why are you all wet?” Hamilton asked, pulling Agatha abruptly from her thoughts.

A rather pained expression crossed Zayne’s face as he sent a furtive look to Mr. Blackheart, who completely missed the look since that man was still glaring at Drusilla. Zayne swiped a hand over his face and winced. “Ah, well, I’m perspiring.” He glanced over at her, then back at Hamilton, and then . . . he wiggled his brow.

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed for just a second before he spun around but not fast enough for Agatha to miss the grin on his face.

Hamilton and Zayne had always shared an incredibly close bond, one that, apparently, was still intact even given the amount of time they’d been apart.

The last vestiges of the concern she’d had regarding coercing Zayne back to the city melted away.

It didn’t matter if someone was still out there, intending to do her harm. Mr. Blackheart, along with Drusilla, by the sound of it, would work diligently to see her kept safe. What mattered was Zayne was back where he belonged, and once he was surrounded by his family, his healing really would begin.

Hamilton finally turned back, his grin firmly under control, and took a step closer to Zayne. He paused, looking as if he didn’t really know what to do next. To Agatha’s surprise, Zayne moved forward and threw his arms around his brother, hugging Hamilton tightly to him for a long moment before he stepped back and smiled. “Sorry.”

It was so like a gentleman to sum up the whole of his transgressions with one simple word.

“There’s no need for you to apologize, Zayne,” Hamilton said, his voice gruff. “I’m simply glad you’ve come to your senses and returned home. We’ve missed you.”

“I should have kept in better contact.”

“Yes, you should have, although we did appreciate your monthly telegrams, but again, you’ve decided to come home, and that’s what matters.”

“Agatha didn’t give me a choice,” Zayne said.

Hamilton smiled. “So I’ve been told, but you really should have known better than to allow her in the vicinity of dynamite.”

Not particularly wanting to delve into the whole dynamite fiasco again, Agatha tugged Matilda out from under her skirt and looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the interest of your safety, we decided it would be best not to have a crowd waiting here to greet you,” Hamilton said. “Your mother is waiting for you at your home, along with my mother. My father was called out of town just yesterday, so he won’t be around for a few weeks. But he did want me to make certain to welcome both of you back and to mention that he’d appreciate it if both of you would remain in town for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ve always found your father to be absolutely delightful,” Agatha said, “but since my mother and yours are apparently together at the moment, we really shouldn’t leave them that way long. Who knows what mischief they might get into.”

Hamilton grinned, looked at her, then Zayne, and shook his head. “I’m afraid they’ve already taken to plotting. They haven’t had an opportunity to do any matchmaking since Felicia got married two years ago.”

Eyes widening, Agatha prodded Matilda forward. “There’s no time to waste.”

Making her way through the station, Agatha continued chatting with Hamilton while Matilda pranced beside her, letting out squeals of excitement every other minute.

“You do know you’re drawing a lot of attention with your Matilda, don’t you?” Hamilton asked as they reached the exit and he held open the door for her.

“I didn’t really think about the attention we’d garner, but yes, I’ve seen the looks,” Agatha admitted, stepping out into a blustery wind. “It’s a good thing no one knew I was coming back to the city besides the family.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” Mr. Blackheart said, taking her arm as he joined her. “Motivated people are dangerous, so now that we’re back in the city, you’re going to have to be careful. And speaking of being careful, poor Zayne is not at his best at the moment, and someone is going to have to watch over him.”

It took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes. “Then it’s fortunate we’ve returned to the city where his mother resides. Knowing Gloria, she’ll pull up a chair and hand-feed the poor man soup while he struggles to recover from whatever’s plaguing him. But . . . speaking of Zayne, where is he?”

“He claimed to need a bit of a rest,” Drusilla said, strolling up to Agatha’s side. “He’ll be along soon I’m sure, once he figures out what’s exactly wrong with him, and what symptoms he’s supposed to be displaying at the moment.” She smiled. “Shall we go get the carriage and have it ready to pick him up right at the entrance when he finally decides to leave the station?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, but Miss Watson needs to stay put in order to keep Matilda out of all the traffic,” Mr. Blackheart said. “I’ll come with you, Drusilla, because I’ve been dying to chat with you, and what better time than right now, as we go to fetch the carriage?”

“While that does sound like a splendid idea, Mr. Blackheart, I would think, given that your main purpose in life these days is to keep dear Agatha alive, that your time would be better spent looking out for her than trying to discern the extent of my secrets.”

“So you do have secrets?”

“Ah, would you look at that, here comes my carriage,” Hamilton said rather loudly, speaking over Drusilla and Mr. Blackheart, who’d begun to argue. “My coachman must have seen us and took matters into his own hands.” He turned to Agatha as the carriage pulled to a stop right in front of them. “May I help you inside?”

“Since my bodyguard and my . . . well, whatever Drusilla actually is, don’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention to me, I would be grateful for a hand up, and even more grateful if you’d somehow get Matilda in the carriage. She doesn’t really like confined spaces.”

Three minutes later, Agatha was sitting on the seat, Matilda lying on top of her feet, while Hamilton sat on the opposite side of the carriage, nursing the bloody lip he’d gotten when Matilda had turned feisty and caused him to fall face-first into the carriage. Drusilla fished in her ever-present satchel, pulled out a handkerchief, and gave it to Hamilton, while Mr. Blackheart continued to glare at Drusilla without speaking, even as Drusilla pretended not to notice his glare.

“I wonder if someone should go check on Zayne?” Agatha asked, breaking the silence that surrounded them.

“I’ll go,” Mr. Blackheart said with a grunt, disappearing out the carriage door a second later.

“Well, this is pleasant,” Drusilla remarked.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “You’re deliberately avoiding Mr. Blackheart’s questions, but I’m beginning to lose patience with you as well, so you really do need to start talking.”

Drusilla smiled, turned to Hamilton, and asked, “How is your darling sister doing these days?”

Hamilton smiled back at her around the handkerchief he still had pressed to his lip and ignored Agatha’s huff of frustration. “Arabella is well, thank you for asking. Are you aware she’s expecting?”

“Why, I had no idea,” Drusilla returned with a bat of her lashes. “Theodore neglected to mention anything at all about that in his many telegrams.”

“Arabella probably wanted to tell you in person, although once you see her, her condition will be obvious, since she’s huge. . . . But don’t tell her I said that. She’s a little emotional at the moment.”

“This was not what I meant when I said I wanted Drusilla to start talking,” Agatha began, but stopped in mid-rant. “Arabella’s expecting?”

“Indeed she is,” Hamilton said with a smile before he glanced out the window and frowned. “Is it my imagination or does it seem like it’s taking Mr. Blackheart forever to fetch Zayne?”

“I, for one, am enjoying Mr. Blackheart’s absence,” Drusilla said.

“I’m sure you are.” Hamilton reached for the door. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped from the carriage and began walking toward the train station.

Agatha watched him go. “You don’t think something happened, do you?”

“Zayne and Mr. Blackheart are probably just putting some finishing touches on their plan.”

“Perhaps, but I should go check on them.” Agatha scooted forward on the seat but paused when Drusilla took hold of her arm.

“You need to remember that you can’t dash about the city unescorted.”

“I doubt I’ll be in much danger simply by walking back into the . . .” Her voice trailed off when she looked out the window and saw Zayne being held up by Mr. Blackheart and Hamilton, his cane nowhere in sight, trying to make it down the small flight of steps leading out of the station. She knew without a doubt that the grimace on his face was genuine, and concern had her leaping from the carriage and rushing toward him.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“He fell,” Hamilton said.

“I’m fine,” Zayne countered. “I tripped over a piece of luggage, but again, I’m fine.”

Sweat, this time genuine, rolled down his face, and his color was paler than it’d been before. Agatha moved closer to him. “You don’t look fine, Zayne. Is it your bad leg?”

Without bothering to answer her, Zayne allowed Hamilton and Mr. Blackheart to get him down the steps and into the carriage as Agatha stayed right behind him. She felt tears sting her eyes when a telltale moan escaped Zayne’s lips when his leg smacked against the side of the seat, right before he fell back against it and closed his eyes. She hurried in and settled down on the seat beside him.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she whispered.

“Stop hovering.”

Folding her hands into her lap so she wouldn’t feel the urge to pat him on the arm—because Zayne would certainly take that as hovering—Agatha kept her lips pressed tightly together and watched as Hamilton, followed by Mr. Blackheart, climbed into the carriage and took their seats. An uncomfortable silence settled over the interior as the carriage lurched into motion.

“Would you like us to take you to the doctor?” Hamilton finally asked.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“I beg to differ, Zayne. You’re clearly in pain, and we should get that leg checked out.”

Opening his eyes, Zayne glared at his brother. “There’s nothing any doctor can do for this leg, Hamilton, so just leave it alone.”

A flash of heat flickered through Hamilton’s eyes, but then he shrugged. “Very well, but we’re not going to linger at Agatha’s house. We’ll fetch Mother and take you straight back to her house to get you settled.”

“Fine,” was all Zayne said before he closed his eyes again and began rubbing his leg.

Wanting to break some of the tension that now seeped through the carriage, Agatha summoned a smile and nodded to Hamilton. “You were telling me about how Arabella’s expecting soon. I imagine Theodore’s thrilled he’s about to become a father, and—”

“Arabella’s going to have a baby?” Zayne interrupted as his eyes flashed open and he scowled at Hamilton.

Hamilton smiled. “I’m delighted to admit she is.”

“And why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“Ah, well, we didn’t want to burden you with family news unless it was news of an urgent sort, and you were crystal clear in your telegrams that you wanted to be left alone.”

“Arabella expecting a baby is urgent news,” Zayne said, his voice holding a trace of irritation. “And the fact I wanted to be left alone didn’t mean I wanted to sever all ties with the family.” Color began to seep back into his face. “What else wasn’t I told?”

Hamilton considered his brother for a moment. “Quite a bit, but I suppose the information that’s going to annoy you the most is that Eliza and I have a new daughter. Her name is Viola—and before you ask, I didn’t send you a telegram telling you of her birth because I didn’t want guilt to be the reason you returned home.”

Instead of turning the anger that was now evident in his eyes on Hamilton, Zayne directed it straight at Agatha. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come home.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“I’m going to be smothered with coddling.”

“Families are supposed to coddle, Zayne,” she said slowly.

“And pitied,” he added with a grunt of clear disgust.

Agatha bit her lip as understanding settled in. Here it was—the real reason Zayne had distanced himself from the people he loved.

He detested the very thought of anyone pitying him, would apparently rather stay by himself than experience it. But . . . what in the world was she supposed to do with this newly discovered knowledge?

She’d known he was damaged but hadn’t realized the extent of his emotional distress. Here she’d blithely decided she was going to help him recover his former self without even considering how extremely difficult the task she’d set for herself was going to be.

Closing her eyes, she turned to God, hoping He would be able to send her the assistance she so desperately needed. She prayed for guidance and then prayed for healing for Zayne. When she was done, she opened her eyes and found Zayne watching her.

“What?”

Some of the temper left his eyes. “I forgot you make a habit of doing that.”

“Praying?”

He nodded.

“You used to make a habit of it as well, but—”

“I don’t need a lecture, Agatha.”

Snapping her mouth shut, Agatha turned toward the window and ignored the fact another silence had descended over them. Finally, after what felt like forever, the carriage began to slow, and Agatha felt a sharp sense of relief when she caught sight of her home. Four stories of a white stone façade rose up to greet her gaze, and if she wasn’t much mistaken, one of the curtains on the second floor gave a telling twitch, as if her mother had been watching for her arrival.

As soon as the carriage came to a stop, she wrenched open the door and jumped out, not bothering to wait for the groom. “I’ll go get Gloria for you,” she said with a nod to Zayne as she reached back into the carriage to fetch Matilda, who was trying to hide under Drusilla’s skirt.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Zayne said.

Struggling to pull Matilda out of her hiding spot, she lifted her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t you be ridiculous,” he countered. “I haven’t seen your mother for over two years. She’ll find it rude if I don’t pay her proper respect.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand, given the condition you’re . . .”

“I’m coming with you.” Zayne pushed off from the seat and hovered at the carriage door, forcing her to abandon her attempt to fetch Matilda and move aside. He stepped to the ground, wobbled for a moment, and nodded. The odd thought sprang to mind that she should have asked God for a huge dose of patience while she’d been praying.

Making a silent vow to pray for that later, she held out her arm, which Zayne surprisingly enough took. They made it all of three feet before Matilda let out a high-pitched squeal, launched herself from the carriage, and began running directly toward the middle of the busy street.

“Matilda, stop!” Agatha yelled, dropping her hold on Zayne as she ran after her pig.

The traffic on Fifth Avenue seemed to confuse Matilda and caused her to dash around in clear panic. Continuing to call for her little pet in what she hoped was a soothing tone, although, even to her ears it sounded frantic, Agatha dashed around the carriages. Most of them pulled off to the side as she waved her hands to draw their attention.

“Agatha, look out!” Zayne yelled.

Looking up, Agatha froze on the spot when she caught sight of a carriage barreling her way. She began waving her arms again, but to her horror, the coachman didn’t seem to see her, perhaps because his hat was pulled low over his face. For a split second, she thought the man had lost control of the carriage, but then he turned the horses ever so slightly and sent them directly at her.

A hard shove had her flying through the air and falling to the ground, rolling instinctively away from the wheels that missed her by inches. Mr. Blackheart’s face suddenly came into focus as he bent over her, but then a loud scream split the air, sending chills down her spine.

Mr. Blackheart jumped to his feet, and she did the same a second later. Sheer horror caused a scream of her own to erupt out of her mouth when she caught sight of Zayne’s body lying motionless on the ground.