A Match of Wits (9 page)

Agatha froze. “Did you just say you think I’m right?”

“Well, I wasn’t actually listening to
everything
you were saying, but I think you’re right about finding Willie.”

“And you’ll turn over the mine to him?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be opposed to bringing him on as some type of partner.”

“Why won’t you just give him the mine?”

“Because as
you
said, it’ll take money to get it running again, and I’m pretty certain Willie doesn’t have any of that.”

“Oh, good point.” Agatha leaned down, smiled, and caught his gaze. “Thank you.”

His breath caught in his throat. Why, he couldn’t really say, but before he could think of a response, or even get a sound out of his mouth, the door opened and Mr. Blackheart walked back into the room.

“We’re about an hour out of the city,” he said. “I thought I’d see how Mr. Beckett’s transformation is coming along.” He walked across the room and winced. “Hmm . . .”

“It’s not that bad,” Agatha argued.

“Give me the scissors,” Mr. Blackheart demanded.

“But I’m not finished, and Zayne and I were right in the middle of an important conversation.”

“It’ll have to wait. His mother will be appalled if she sees her favorite son looking like this.”

“You think I’m my mother’s favorite son?” Zayne asked.

“Of course you are,” Agatha said before Mr. Blackheart could reply. “But that has nothing to do with Drusilla and me helping you find Willie.”

“Shouldn’t you go collect the rest of your belongings since we’re almost to New York?” Mr. Blackheart asked.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Agatha countered.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to have to give Mr. Beckett a mirror soon so he can begin shaving, and once he sees what you’ve done to him, your life will be in danger. Since it’s my job to keep you alive, I’m going to suggest you leave this room, immediately.”

Agatha considered Zayne’s head for a moment, wrinkled her nose, and let out a whistle as she began to walk toward the door. Pausing to wait for Matilda to scamper to her side, she looked up and winced when she caught his eye. “Just remember, you look better than you did thirty minutes ago, although that might not really be saying much.” With that, she opened the door and disappeared.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Mr. Blackheart said. “Nothing I can’t fix.”

“Why did you make me think it was, then?”

“Don’t get me wrong—at the moment your hair looks hideous. But again, I can fix it, because I’m somewhat talented when it comes to cutting hair.”

“Why didn’t you offer to cut it in the first place?”

“Hmm . . . that’ll give you something to think about, but not right now. Now we need to discuss a situation that’s arisen, and I’ve come to the conclusion I’m going to need your help.”

“A situation?”

“Indeed.” Mr. Blackheart eyed Zayne’s hair. “After speaking a few minutes ago with Drusilla, not that she was overly generous giving me many details, I think we’re going to have to move forward with the idea of you playing the invalid.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t protect Agatha if she’s roaming around
derelict parts of the city trying to find that Willie character.” He blew out a breath. “From what Drusilla disclosed, Agatha believes if you make matters right with Willie it’ll help you recover, which means she’s focused now on finding the man and won’t be easily dissuaded.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with me, except my leg, of course, and Agatha has no reason to believe I need help recovering.”

Mr. Blackheart quirked a brow. “Right, because it’s completely normal for a gentleman to turn his back on everything he cares about and dig in the dirt for months on end with only his sulky attitude for company.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve been sulking. And my digging in the dirt, as you so quaintly put it, was beginning to turn profitable before Agatha blew everything up.”

“Be that as it may, Agatha’s determined to save you.”

Zayne frowned. “So what exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Let her.”

A
gatha 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.”