9

With his heart in his throat, Zayne heard the sound of breaking glass right as Drusilla, followed by Piper and Ben, rushed out of the room. Pushing himself up, he swung his cast over the side of the bed and groped around for a moment, finally finding the crutches he’d stashed behind the headboard, the crutches Dr. Gessler had assured him he was ready to use. Putting them under his arms, he got to his feet and began making his way rather clumsily toward the door. He finally made it into the hallway as sweat rolled from his forehead and stung his eyes, blurring his vision for a second. Stopping, he blinked a few times and then felt temper replace his fear when he spotted Agatha. She was soaking wet and standing next to a rather large hole in the wall at the end of the hall, and . . . she was laughing.

Why she was laughing, he had no idea, because from what he could see, there was a distinct trace of red running down her face, clear testimony that she’d been hurt in the crash. Propelling himself forward, he glanced to the stairs and found his mother racing up them. He reached the stairs right as she finished climbing, but she barely glanced his way as she dashed off to join Agatha.

“My dear, you’re bleeding,” Gloria exclaimed as she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to Agatha.

“It’s just a scratch,” Agatha said, swiping at her wet face with the handkerchief. She grimaced when she looked at the blood now staining the fine linen. “I’m afraid I might just have ruined this, Gloria.”

Gloria waved the comment away. “What happened?”

To his annoyance, Agatha laughed again. “It seems I mistook one of the many knobs Charlotte included on that cart for the brake, when in actuality, the knob I pulled must have had some type of spring attached to it which gave it an extra boost, something I certainly hadn’t counted on.” She pulled a flower stem off her head and grinned. “It’s ingenious, that knob, and I’m going to have to make certain to tell Charlotte that the next time I see her, although I probably should ask her exactly how one is supposed to stop that cart, because . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of him. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Ignoring her question, he hobbled closer. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Shrugging, Agatha smiled. “Not really, and besides, better me than you.”

His temper kicked up a notch. “This is exactly why I need to find you a good man.”

The moment the words slipped out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a grave mistake. Silence was immediate, paired with a distinct air of coolness from Drusilla, Gloria, and even Piper, although little Ben was simply watching him with his mouth open. Agatha, however, given the distinct fire in her eyes, was furious.

“What . . . did . . . you . . . say?” she demanded.

“Children, I believe it’s time for some cookies and milk, down in the kitchen,” Gloria said firmly. She took Ben by the hand and nodded to Piper, who seemed about to protest but settled for saying something under her breath that sounded like “Uncle Zayne doesn’t understand ladies at all” before she took her grandmother’s free hand. They began walking quickly to the stairs and then disappeared down them.

Alone now except for Agatha and Drusilla, Zayne shifted on his crutches, but before he could speak, Agatha turned to Drusilla.

“You don’t have to stay with me.”

“I’m not staying for your protection.”

Agatha brushed a wet lock of hair out of her face. “I’m not going to hurt him.” She shot him a glare. “Well, not too much.”

“I don’t know why everyone is behaving as if I did something wrong,” Zayne said. “You’re the lunatic who ran right into the pedestal and almost killed yourself, and once again, you did it in order to keep me safe. I’m the man here, in case everyone’s forgotten. I don’t need a slip of a lady putting her life on the line time and time again in order to save me from some type of distress or injury.”

“I think I’ll go find those cookies,” Drusilla said before she dashed away.

The sound of crunching glass drew Zayne’s attention. Agatha was tapping her toe amidst the broken glass she was still standing in, and the reminder of what had happened to her caused his blood to boil. “You’re a complete threat to yourself.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes. “I cannot believe you’ve apparently taken it upon yourself to find me a . . . How did you put it? Oh yes, a good man.”

“You need someone to look after you.”

“I must say, this certainly clears up the whole having Piper read the society page to you and your strange interest in eligible gentlemen. I can’t help but wonder who you’ve decided might suit me, besides Mr. Blackheart, of course.”

Before he could summon up so much as a single word, she gathered up her skirt and bolted down the hallway, her intentions only too clear.

“Don’t touch my book,” he bellowed as he took off at a snail’s pace after her.

By the time he reached his room, Agatha was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, her lips moving but no sound coming out as she held his journal up to her face.

“Put that down.”

She lifted her head. “What did you mean by this—Mr. Arnold Putman . . . nice teeth?”

“Ah, Arabella mentioned the other day that Mr. Putman has a nice smile, and she specifically mentioned his straight teeth.”

“So that makes him a viable candidate?”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to be married to someone who only has gums and no teeth, would you?”

Letting out a snort, Agatha flipped the page. “Mr. Constable Hefferstenforth. . . .” She rolled her eyes. “Do you really believe I’d like to be known forever after as Mrs. Hefferstenforth? Why, I’m not even certain how to pronounce that name.”

“If you’ll continue on to the notes I wrote after that name, you’ll see I made that exact same observation and also wrote that it wouldn’t be a good match.”

Sending him another glare, she flipped to a different page. “Ah, and here we have Mr. Jeffrey Murdock, although it looks like you tried to scratch out his name.” She released a huff of clear annoyance. “Out of all the eligible gentleman I know at the moment, Mr. Murdock would probably make me a more than acceptable husband, but there’s just the pesky little problem of me not actually wanting to acquire a mate,” she said, her voice having risen to almost a shout.

“You’re upset with me.”

Pacing back and forth again, Agatha practically sizzled with tension. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are, which is why I decided I had to help you.”

“By marrying me off to someone else?”

Zayne arched a brow. “What do you mean by ‘someone else’?”

Agatha stopped pacing. “Nothing, I meant nothing by that, but tell me . . . why?”

Leaning forward on his crutches, Zayne sighed. “You’re always putting yourself at risk trying to save others. If you had a strong and capable man to look after you, you wouldn’t have to do that.”

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Zayne. I’ve been doing it for quite some time now.”

“But not doing it well.”

For just a second, what looked like hurt flickered through her eyes, but then Agatha squared her shoulders and the look was gone, replaced, unfortunately, with rage. “You are not going to find me a husband.”

“I’m not?”

“No. If I decide I want one—and I’m not sure I’ll ever want a husband now—I’ll do the selecting. Are we clear?”

“Not really.”

“That’s too bad.” With that, Agatha walked to the fireplace, tossed his journal into the fire, and without another word stalked out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he called.

To his dismay, Agatha didn’t bother to answer.

“You do realize this is completely irresponsible of both of us to be out here, in the open no less, and with Matilda leading the way, don’t you?”

Shoving her spectacles farther up her nose, Agatha glanced at Drusilla, who was dressed in a hideous floral gown of lime and pink, her hair stuffed underneath a ratty old white wig, and carrying a fashionable reticule that was at distinct odds with her gown. Strangely enough, Drusilla was looking as composed as ever. “We’re both in disguise.”

“True, and I do thank you for not insisting we take this jaunt around the neighborhood dressed as men, although I’m still a little confused as to why you insisted I disguise myself.”

“I didn’t want you to feel left out, and I didn’t insist we dress as men because it would have taken us too long to don whiskers. I needed to get out of the house.”

“And since I find that to be a completely rational explanation, it’s clear I’ve spent entirely too much time in your company. However, I’m not exactly sure I understand why you chose to dress as a lady who looks about ready to give birth, especially since most ladies in society don’t venture out in public when they’re in your supposed condition.”

“It’s 1883, Drusilla, and it’s past time someone made the stand while in this condition. It can’t be pleasant for ladies to be stuck inside for months on end just because they’re expecting, so perhaps I’ll start a new trend.” She was pulled to an abrupt halt when Matilda suddenly found something worth investigating on the sidewalk and refused to budge. Agatha blew out a breath. “He’s an idiot.”

“Ah, I take it we’re back to discussing Zayne, are we?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, allowing myself to care about him, especially since I vowed after he broke my heart a few years . . .” She stopped speaking when Drusilla stepped closer to her and, in a move that was quite unlike the Drusilla she’d come to know, patted Agatha awkwardly on the arm.

“You never mentioned that Zayne had actually broken your heart.”

She shrugged. “Well, he did, and now he’s done it again.” A yank on the leash pulled her into motion. Matilda was apparently on the trail of something new, and since the little darling was rather strong when she turned determined, Agatha had no choice but to break into a trot, if only to save herself from being dragged down the sidewalk.

“Don’t you think it might be best to turn around and go back to the house?” Drusilla asked, panting slightly when she finally caught up to Agatha.

“No.”

“You can’t hide from Zayne forever.”

“I’m not planning on hiding for long. In fact, I think it’s about time for me to shed my disguises and walk freely around New York as Miss Agatha Watson.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to shed your disguise right this moment. I’m afraid we really will draw unwanted attention if you go strolling around in your unmentionables, especially since you’re walking a P-I-G.”

“Hmm . . . such a display might draw the person who wants me dead out in the open.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

Skidding to a stop because Matilda, for some reason, had changed direction and was now rooting around the sidewalk, Agatha laughed. “I wouldn’t really strip down out here, Drusilla. Honestly, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Back at the Beckett house, where it’s safer for you.”

“But not safer for Zayne.”

Drusilla sent her a look filled with sympathy. “I truly am sorry for pushing you toward him, Agatha. I never dreamed in a million years he’d tried to pawn you off on some other gentleman, especially since I was certain he held the same amount of affection for you as you hold for him.”

“Held for him,” Agatha corrected. “I foolishly let my guard down, and he wormed his way right back into my heart, but never again. I’m done with him for good this time, and I’m furious with myself for believing he truly understood me, when in actuality, he doesn’t understand me at all.”

“I don’t think Zayne understands ladies in general.”

“Be that as it may,” Agatha began, jolting forward when Matilda began scampering down the street. “Some other lady can take over the daunting task of teaching him about women, because I’ve had quite enough of Zayne Beckett.” She lifted her chin. “What’s become remarkably clear to me is this—I need to return to work. Writing is my great passion in life, and once I get firmly settled again at the paper, I’ll be able to put Zayne behind me once and for all.”

“Theodore will never agree with the idea of you going back to work.”

“What everyone seems to have forgotten is that Theodore is not in charge of me. I am an independent, successful woman. It’s time I remembered that and stopped mooning over a gentleman who clearly has no romantic interest in me at all.”

“If Zayne didn’t have a romantic interest in you, I doubt he would have scratched Mr. Murdock’s name out of his journal, something I remember you making sure to point out to me.”

“I thought you were going to cease with the whole matchmaking business.”

“Oh, right,” Drusilla said. “But I really must voice my concern about you going back to work. Someone truly does want you dead, given that you were almost run down by a carriage the moment we returned to the city, and don’t forget all those threats you received before we left to go out west.”

“I’m hardly likely to forget that someone left a P-I-G’s head on my front porch, Drusilla. It was a grisly scene, made all the more horrific now that I have Matilda, and believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Have you forgotten that the note attached to that head stated your head would be next?”

Before Agatha could respond, a carriage pulled up next to them. And in the blink of an eye, Drusilla shoved Agatha out of the way even as a pistol appeared almost instantaneously out of her reticule.

“Honestly, Drusilla,” Eliza Beckett said as her head poked out the window, her red hair styled to perfection underneath the fashionable hat she wore, “you’ve knocked poor Agatha to the ground. Is that any way to treat a lady who looks about ready to give birth?”

Picking herself up from the sidewalk, where she’d unfortunately fallen after Drusilla’s shove, Agatha rubbed her elbow and grinned. “What are you doing here, Eliza?”

“Hamilton and I were just at Gloria’s, taking Viola to see Zayne, and . . . well . . . Gloria thought you might want to talk. Hop in.”

Shaking her head, Agatha nodded to Matilda, who was straining against the leash, her interest fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think Matilda’s done with her little adventure yet. You should walk with us.”

“What a lovely idea, especially since the day is turning downright brisk, what with that wind and all,” Eliza said before she grinned. “And while it’s apparent you’re toasty warm, a condition no doubt brought about by the rage you’re currently experiencing due to my annoying brother-in-law, poor Drusilla’s shivering.”

“Gloria told you about Zayne, did she?” Agatha asked before she turned to Drusilla and noticed that the lady was indeed shivering. “Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

“Really, Agatha, after spending so much time with me, I’d have thought you’d come to the realization that I’m one of those suffer-in-silence types.”

Rolling her eyes, Agatha nodded to Matilda. “I’ll grab her head, you take her backside, and, Eliza, you’d better scoot over to the far side of the carriage, because I don’t think Matilda’s going to like this.”

“Why do I have to grab her backside?” Drusilla asked in disgust.

“Ladies, allow me,” the coachman said as he jumped down from his seat and gestured them out of the way, sending Agatha a pointed look. “You, Miss Watson, are apparently supposed to be in no condition to hoist a pig into a carriage. Go get settled and I’ll see to the beast, but may I add that it’s delightful to see that you haven’t changed a bit?”

Agatha smiled, but before she could respond, Matilda—evidently taking exception to being called a pig, or perhaps she didn’t like the word beast—yanked the leash straight out of Agatha’s hand and took off like a flash. It took a few minutes to run her down, and by the time they got her into the carriage, Drusilla was no longer shivering but sweating. The coachman was eyeing Agatha in amusement, probably because she’d been the one to catch her pig and had then wrestled the dear up and into the carriage. Finally settling back against the seat, Agatha grinned at the coachman as he shook his head and looked at Eliza. “Where to, Mrs. Beckett?”

“I think a nice ride along Broadway might be in order,” Eliza said. “I’ll let you know if we decide to stop somewhere along the way.”

The coachman nodded and shut the carriage door. A moment later they started down the road.

“So much for remaining inconspicuous,” Drusilla muttered as she readjusted her wig.

“If you truly wanted to remain inconspicuous, Drusilla, you should have left Matilda behind,” Eliza said with a fond smile at the pig. “She is, after all, the reason I was able to track the two of you down so easily.”

Drusilla glanced to Matilda. “I wasn’t given a say in the matter, Eliza. I talked Agatha into leaving Matilda behind, but the annoying creature somehow managed to slip out of the house and catch up with us. The moment Agatha saw her, carrying her leash in her mouth no less, she was adamant about letting her pet join us.”

“What a bright girl you are,” Eliza cooed to Matilda, earning a glare from Drusilla in the process. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, since we’re now moving, and toward Broadway, would anyone be opposed to me running a few errands? It’s rare I’m infant-free these days, and I need to stop by B. Altman’s to check on a special order I placed last week.”

“We are not going to B. Altman’s,” Drusilla said firmly.

Narrowing her eyes, Eliza gestured to Agatha. “Fine, by all means, let’s not distract Agatha from her troubles by doing something safe, like shopping. Instead, why don’t we just take her back to Zayne’s house, where you and I both know she’ll do her very best to sneak out and will probably end up in the slums.”

Drusilla patted her wig and smiled a rather strained smile. “Shopping sounds delightful.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” Eliza settled back against the seat and turned her attention to Agatha. “Now then, before we get to B. Altman’s, I’d like to hear your thoughts about Zayne.”

“He’s clearly turned mentally deficient while he’s been away.”

“I would love to argue that point, but since Gloria did mention the pesky little fact that Zayne’s been trying to find you a man, well, there’s really nothing to argue, is there?” She leaned closer. “He’s hurt you again, hasn’t he?”

Seeing no reason to deny it, because Eliza, out of all Agatha’s friends, had always known exactly how she really felt about Zayne, Agatha nodded. “He has.”

Pulling her into a tight hug, Eliza blew out a breath. “I’m so sorry, darling, but he’ll come around.”

“I don’t want him to come around, and I don’t really want to talk about him right now.”

“Fair enough,” Eliza said as she released Agatha. “We’ll talk about shoes.”

Agatha’s spirits began to lift as Eliza launched into a ridiculous discussion about the latest styles, most of which Agatha was fairly certain her friend made up on the spot, but time flew as they rumbled down the street, and before she knew it, they’d arrived at B. Altman’s.

Cautioning Matilda to behave herself, Agatha rolled up a carriage blanket and put in under the little pig’s head before climbing out the door with the help of the coachman. She discreetly rearranged stuffing around her middle that had begun to slip and then followed Eliza and Drusilla into the store. They made their way down a marble-covered aisle, but Agatha stopped when her stuffing slipped again.

“I’ll catch up with you two in a moment,” she said. “I need to visit the retiring room and make some adjustments before someone notices I’m looking a little lumpy.”

Drusilla nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t need a nanny, Drusilla. I’m perfectly capable of staying out of trouble for a few minutes.”

Pushing down her spectacles, Drusilla glared at her. “I realize you believe I’m paranoid, but someone might have noticed us walking Matilda before and followed us here.”

“No one knows about Matilda.”

“Mary does.”

“And since she’s probably still out west, spending her ill-gotten gains, I highly doubt we’ll run into her in the midst of this fine department store.” Not giving Drusilla time to argue further, Agatha headed off for the retiring room, just making it through the door before her stuffing slid down her legs. Hobbling over to a private stall, she slipped inside, closed the door, and put everything back in place. When she was certain she was again looking expectant and not lumpy, she headed back into the parlor area of the room and paused before the mirror, unable to stop the grin that spread over her face.

She was a sight—of that there could be no debate. She’d tucked her hair under a garish red wig she’d given to Piper to use for dress up before she’d headed out west. Because Piper had apparently used it well, the wig was missing chunks of hair, which was why Agatha had plopped a large hat over top of it, one that tied around the chin with a lovely purple ribbon. Add in the fact she was wearing huge black spectacles and a dress that could almost be considered a circus tent, she was fairly unrecognizable. That meant she’d be able to shop in safety because no one could confuse the image she saw in the mirror with that of Miss Agatha Watson, especially since, her figure being sufficiently stuffed, she was round as a barrel.

Hurrying through the door, anxious now to purchase a few new things, she stumbled to a stop when she spotted Matilda sitting smack dab in the middle of the marble walkway. “How in the world did you get in here?” she asked as she bent over, picked up the leash, and looked around. Not seeing the coachman anywhere in sight, she squared her shoulders. “You’re quite sneaky, aren’t you, darling, and it was really very clever of you to figure out how to get out of the carriage. But I’m going to have to take you right back there. This is one of those fancy stores, and they won’t appreciate you being here.”

Matilda sent Agatha a pitiful look.

“Oh, very well, I’ll sit with you in the carriage while Eliza finishes her errands, but next time, since it’s clear you can’t behave, I’m leaving you at home.”

Hugging the side of the aisle while pretending it was completely normal to have a prancing pig at her side in the midst of the dress department, Agatha spotted a rather stern-looking gentleman talking with some customers in the millinery department. She yanked Matilda in amongst the dresses. “He’s management, which means both of us will be in big trouble if he sees us, so be quiet.”

Matilda scampered underneath some gowns hanging on a circular rack, leaving Agatha standing on the other side, holding the leash. Striving for an air of nonchalance, she began to sort through the gowns, stopping when her eye settled on a delicious confection of blue that exactly matched a hat she owned.

A squeal from the middle of the rack had Agatha parting some of the gowns and looking down. Matilda was rooting around under the rack, trying to slurp up what seemed to be some type of sweet from the floor.

“That’s going to make you sick,” Agatha muttered, pulling on the leash and grimacing when Matilda refused to budge. “Listen here, Matilda. You need to leave that alone. I hate to think what will happen to us if you throw that up in the middle of these lovely gowns.”

Matilda continued to slurp, and then she began to make grunting noises, noises that were bound to draw someone’s attention.

“I’m going to take you back to my mother,” she threatened, to which Matilda paid not the slightest bit of attention. “I’ll tell her to serve ham.”

Evidently Matilda hadn’t yet learned that ham and pig meant the same thing, because she didn’t so much as twitch an ear, but continued attacking the sweet.

Knowing there was nothing else to do but drag her pig away from the sweet and out of the store, Agatha shoved some dresses aside and was just bending over when the strong scent of a lady’s perfume caused her to sneeze. Straightening, she sneezed several more times and then raised watery eyes to the lady standing on the other side of the dress rack.

“What is that under there?” the lady demanded.

Agatha opened her mouth as she struggled to come up with a plausible explanation, but then the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, and she narrowed her eyes on the woman in front of her.

Dressed in the first state of fashion in a green gown paired with an ornate hat sporting a variety of exotic feathers, the lady’s face was partially obscured by the veiling also attached to the hat, but . . . her voice was, unfortunately, familiar.

Matilda took that moment to wander out from under the rack, a sticky treat a child must have abandoned stuck to her nose; and if Agatha wasn’t so furious, she’d have found the sight amusing.

“Is that a pig?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes on the woman she’d determined was none other than Mary and watched as the lady’s head shot up and they locked gazes. Mary’s eyes widened a second later, when recognition set in.

“You,” Mary snarled.

Agatha forced a smile. “Hello, Mary. Spending some of the loot you stole from Zayne, are you?”

“What are you doing here—and dressed in such a ridiculous manner?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Not bothering to answer her, Mary took a step toward her but froze on the spot when Matilda let out a grunt that sounded downright menacing, right before she pawed a foot against the floor and charged, her action stripping the leash out of Agatha’s hand.

Letting out a shriek, Mary turned and began to run in the opposite direction, but Matilda was fast for such a little thing, and before Agatha had a chance to move, Matilda had grabbed hold of Mary’s hem, which brought the fleeing woman to an abrupt stop.

“Stupid pig, you’re tearing my gown. Let go of it,” Mary screeched.

To Agatha’s astonishment, Matilda did let go of the gown, right before she dashed underneath it and began emitting high-pitched squeals, clear evidence she was probably getting ready to begin gnawing on Mary’s leg.

“Get out of there,” Mary yelled as she lifted up her skirt and tried to pull Matilda off her leg, smacking the pig’s head with her other hand.

“Stop that,” Agatha snapped, jolting into motion, the only thought rolling through her mind was that of saving her pig.

Snatching up a wire dress form that was showcasing a lovely gown of purest ivory, she aimed it like a lance and rushed toward Mary, smiling in grim satisfaction when the dress form caught Mary in the stomach and pushed her backward.

Unfortunately, Mary sprang immediately back to her feet and grabbed the other end of the dress form, and a rather strange game of tug-of-war commenced. Just when she thought she was getting the best of Mary, a gentleman’s outraged voice rang out.

“Ladies, good heavens, this is hardly acceptable behavior. Brawling is not permitted within the confines of B. Altman’s, nor are pigs permitted. And I, Mr. Dowry, as manager of this fine establishment, am going to have to insist you let go of that dress form at once. Authorities have already been summoned, but if you cooperate . . .”

Whatever else Mr. Dowry was about to say was lost when two women suddenly appeared, dressed in charming gowns and looking exactly like proper ladies should look, but on closer inspection, the women turned out to be Mary’s cohorts, Jessie and Hannah.

Chaos was immediate as the two ladies entered the brawl.

“Jessie, get the pig. Hannah, get the man,” Mary yelled as she shoved the dress form into Agatha’s middle, making Agatha immensely glad she was wrapped in stuffing.

Trying to get a better hold, Agatha’s fingers curled around the dress right as she gave a good yank. A distinctive ripping noise sounded, and a second later, she found herself holding a tattered and torn slip of silk that had only moments before been a rather lovely gown. She glanced to Mary and found that woman grinning smugly back at her, the dress form solely in her clutches.

“That was an expensive piece of silk,” Mr. Dowry howled, “and you mark my words, one of you will pay me the full cost of the creation, because it was very—” His words were abruptly cut off when Hannah began pelting him with clothing she grabbed from a rack.

Agatha threw the pieces of silk to the ground and took a step toward Mary, only to be stopped dead in her tracks when an arm snaked around her throat.

“Not so fast,” Jessie rasped in her ear.

“Let go of her.”

Agatha opened her mouth to demand that Eliza, who’d just rushed onto the scene, flee and not get involved, but the arm around her throat took that moment to tighten, and all she was able to get out was a feeble croak.

“Hold on, Agatha. I’m coming,” Drusilla shouted.

Fear sliced through her when she heard Eliza let out a yelp, but the fear was immediately replaced with rage. This was her city, these were her friends, and she certainly wasn’t going to let someone strangle her in the middle of B. Altman’s.

Shoving an elbow into Jessie’s ribs, satisfaction mingled with the rage when the arm around her throat disappeared and Jessie stumbled backward and landed on the floor. Pushing her sleeves up, Agatha set her sights on Hannah, who was engaged in what appeared to be a duel with Eliza—both women, oddly enough, using parasols. A strong grip on her arm had Agatha turning as she balled her hand into a fist, but she stopped herself from swinging when she realized it was only Mr. Dowry who was gazing back at her with clear horror in his eyes.

“I don’t mean to cause you undue alarm, Madame, but I do believe the shock of all this has caused your . . . umm . . . child . . . to want to make an appearance. Might I suggest you abandon this madness and immediately seek out a doctor, because the dress department at B. Altman’s is no place to deliver a baby, and . . . think of the mess.”

Glancing down, Agatha felt the strangest desire to laugh. Evidently, in the midst of the ruckus her stuffing had slipped and was even now slowly drifting below her stomach.

It was little wonder Mr. Dowry was looking at her with such concern.

Knowing there was no help for it, because the stuffing was hampering her efforts to help her friends, Agatha shook out of his hold, bent over, lifted her skirts, and yanked out the linens. Ignoring Mr. Dowry’s gasp of outrage and deciding she might as well be fully prepared for whatever was ahead, she slipped her pistol out from the garter on her leg and straightened.

“Imposter!” Mr. Dowry bellowed.

Wishing she had a moment to explain matters to the distraught man but knowing now was hardly the time, she dashed past him and headed for Eliza, who was now soundly beating Hannah over the head with a parasol while Hannah yelled at the top of her lungs.

A shot had everyone freezing in their tracks.

Turning, Agatha found Mary and Drusilla facing each other, both ladies holding pistols in their hands, but only Mary’s was smoking.

Drusilla had lost her wig somewhere along the way, and her hair was hanging around her face, but her expression was hard and her eyes were blazing. “You missed,” she said in a voice that had turned deadly. “Now put your hands up and we’ll end this nicely.”

“Shoot, Jessie!” Mary screamed right before she ducked, a shot sounded behind Agatha, Drusilla dropped to the ground, and Matilda began squealing.

Another shot rang out.

“Not the pig, you fool!” Mary screeched from behind a rack. “We’ll only get paid if we kill Miss Watson.”

Crouching as she ran, Agatha reached Drusilla’s side and, to her relief, found Drusilla’s eyes open. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m not shot,” Drusilla whispered. “When I say move, jump to the right.”

“What?”

“Move.”

Suddenly finding herself on her backside as Drusilla jumped to her feet, Agatha could only stare in amazement at Drusilla, who was once again pointing a pistol at Mary. “Put your hands where I can see them, and tell your friends to stand down.”

Slowly raising her hands, Mary nodded to Jessie and Hannah. Hannah dropped the parasol she was holding, while Jessie lowered the pistol she was clutching in her hand.

“Very good,” Drusilla drawled. “Now, tell me what you meant when you said you’ll only get paid if you kill Miss Watson.”

“I don’t have to tell you nothing.”

“Were you responsible for trying to run Agatha over with a carriage?”

Mary frowned. “I don’t have a carriage.”

“But someone has hired you to kill Agatha?” Drusilla pressed.

Before Mary could reply, another shot rang out, this one coming from Hannah, and complete insanity took over B. Altman’s once again as bits of plaster began to fall from the ceiling, evidence that Hannah’s shot had gone wide.

“The ceiling’s about to collapse!” Agatha heard someone yell.

“Rogue pig, rogue pig!” another lady screamed.

A loud squeal followed that announcement, and a flash of relief darted through Agatha as she realized Matilda was still alive and apparently running for her life, leaving frantic customers in her wake. Pushing herself to her feet, she looked around for Mary, finally catching sight of the woman rushing down an aisle with Drusilla giving chase, Matilda galloping after them.

Hitching up her skirt, she started forward, her path impeded by ladies scrambling to get out of the store. Darting around a lady screaming something about a pig and the unacceptable shopping experience she was having, Agatha set her sights on the door, but she skidded to a halt when the entrance suddenly filled with policemen. Before she could make a discreet exit, her arm was taken in another firm grip by none other than Mr. Dowry.

“I told you the police had been summoned, missy,” he said with a distinct trace of glee in his voice. “Never in all my years of being a manager have I ever had the misfortune to witness such an abhorrent display of behavior, especially from what I assumed were ladies of quality.”

He lifted a hand and summoned a policeman. “Here’s the lady responsible for this disaster, officer. I expect her to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

Sending Agatha a glare and ignoring her sputtered protests, he thrust her directly at the policeman. Letting out a distinctive sniff, Mr. Dowry drew himself up. “Furthermore, you are forever, from this moment forward, banned from this establishment—as is that pig.”