Kathleen Y'Barbo (21 page)

“As I suspected.” He bobbed up, a leather volume in hand. “You have an entire section of books on the pirate Lafitte.”

“I also have a section of Jules Verne, Jane Austen, and William Shakespeare.” She turned her practiced look of innocence on the man before her. “As well as many others. What sort of hypothesis are you attempting to prove?”

“A valid one. That we are, to some extent, what we read. Are the others as marked as this one is?”

Millie opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it. Indeed, he was correct. None but the Lafitte books bore such marks. She must learn to be more careful in the future.

Kyle opened the book and turned to a page where Millie had placed a bookmark. “I believe you’ve noted the location of the Baratarians’ suspected hideaway as well as...” He flipped to another page. “Oh, here. It appears you have taken an interest in the location of a home our pirate friend occupied in New Orleans.” He looked over at Millie. “I know the place. I’m not sure I agree with the author’s premise that Lafitte would hide his ill-gotten gains under his own roof. That would be poor judgment on the pirate’s part, and nothing that fits with the legend of him burying his valuables in more obscure places.”

Snapping the book closed, he pointed it at her. “Another question, and I will offer no bargain in the answering of it.” He waited only a moment before continuing. “This treasure connected to your cypher. Did it once belong to Jean Lafitte or one of his men?”

Just then a series of loud bangs ended the conversation. “Open this door, Mildred!” her father demanded. “Or I will have it torn off the hinges!”

Twelve

M
y father!” Millie thrust the coin and foolscap into her pocket, darted a look at her companion, and then hurried to remove the book from his hand and return it to its hiding place. “You must go!”

Kyle grasped her arm, and she looked up to meet a determined expression. “I will not leave you in danger.”

“It is your presence here that puts me in danger,” she whispered. “He will not harm me. He wants my marriage too badly to ruin it.”

The noise on the other side of the door increased. Her companion looked down at her and seemed ready to say something. Ready to go to battle for her.

“Daughter, you will open this door at once or I will ring for the police!” Father shouted.

“Now would be an excellent time to tell me you are a police officer. Then I could assure my father he has no need to make that telephone call.” It was a poor attempt at humor, but fear kept her from moving or responding with any sort of intelligence.

“I am not,” he said against her ear.

“Then please, Kyle, just go.” Millie turned to walk toward the door, praying he would heed her request.

Instead, he snagged her wrist and pulled her back. “I cannot leave you with that man in such a rage.”

“He will get over it,” she whispered. “He always does.”

“What do you want?” Father said, apparently to someone else, and then another voice outside the door responded. The valet.

Oh, thank goodness.
Millie pressed her finger to her lips and tiptoed to the door. Kyle followed, pressing his hat into her hand.

When she gave him a confused look, he turned the brim over to reveal some sort of gadgetry beneath. “The better to hear things with,” he said softly.

With a wink he fitted the hat onto her head and then extended a small tube toward her ear. Instantly she could hear the conversation on the other side of the door quite clearly.

“No, sir, it is merely a place for storage,” the valet was saying. “That door must be wedged shut again.”

There was a pause as Father grumbled. “Yes, well it has always been locked when I have had reason to be in the attic.”

The truth,
Millie thought,
because the door is locked at all times.

“I heard voices inside there,” Father protested. “A woman was speaking, and I know it had to be Mildred, for who else would be up here? Surely not one of the house servants. And I see firelight. Now, if you cannot open that door I will find someone who can.”

“But, sir, if it is voices that has you thinking your daughter is in the storage room, I can easily clear that up for you.”

“Go on,” he said.

“Yes, um...you see, there is a chimney inside this particular portion of the attic. I believe the room was once used as a bedroom for the help many years ago.”

“I fail to see what the history of my home has to do with my daughter once again defying my wishes and carrying on in an unseemly manner.”

“Yes, well,” the valet continued, “in any case, the same chimney flue travels between this room and the kitchen two floors below. And thus, if you did hear someone, it was just as likely the voices came from the kitchen.”

Also the truth, for Millie had heard more than her share of conversations between Cook and the maids since finding this hideaway and making it her own.

“Likely?” her father demanded. “I did not become the wealthiest cotton trader in Memphis by using the word ‘likely.’ A thing either is or it is not.”

Father punctuated his statement with a series of sharp blows on the
door. Millie jumped back, covering her mouth to keep from crying out in surprise.

“What I should have said, sir, was that it indeed is. The chimneys have ears. In fact, I wager the voices must have come from the chimney flue owing to the fact this is a storage space that has obviously been sealed shut for some time. And the light must be coming from the streetlight outside.”

Father protested again, though this time with less enthusiasm.

“Indeed, I do understand, sir, but I did not see Miss Cope once she excused herself to retire for the night.”

Unless Millie misunderstood, the valet was sending her a message to get out of the room and into bed somehow. But how?

She moved away from the door and handed the aviator his hat. He followed a step behind as she crossed the room and paused at the window.

Three floors up was a dizzying height to attempt creeping around the house on the outside, but she had to do something. There was a downspout just beyond the window that, if she stretched, she might be able to reach. From there it would be a matter of climbing to the floor below where...

She groaned. Her bedchamber was on the other end of the house. Though she might find a way to climb down one floor, there was no possibility she could somehow make her way to her bedchamber without being discovered, whether she made the attempt inside the house or outside.

After another look down, Millie completely ruled out anything to do with escaping around the exterior of the home.

“Do not even consider it,” Kyle said softly against her ear as he returned his hat to his head.

“What?” she whispered.

“Nod if you are thinking of leaving this room without going through that door.” When she did, he said, “Then we will do it my way. Follow me.”

He stepped outside on the ledge and then helped her do the same. Just beyond her reach, the flying device bobbed in the light winter breeze.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked when he had closed the window behind her.

“I think the best plan is to somehow reach my bedchamber. If I can crawl into bed, perhaps Father will believe I have been there all evening.”

“That is probably best. Which room is yours?”

“It’s in the front. The eastern corner room with the balconies. The windows face the street, and that might be a problem.”

His grin was immediate. “Not for us. Come on. Let’s get you tucked in.” At her sideways look, he amended, “I will get you to your window, and then you can take it from there. How is that?”

“We should hurry,” she said as she allowed him to once again buckle her in to the device and set off into flight.

This time the ride was brief, just enough time to circle the back and go around the side of the Cope home. “I will anchor the craft just over there,” Kyle said as he indicated the decorative rail on the balcony just beyond her windows. “Once I do that, you should have no trouble climbing out and getting inside.”

“Thank you, Kyle.”

Slowly the device descended until Millie felt the wooden bar beneath her feet scrape the iron rail. The sound of whistling drew her attention just as he was uncoiling the rope.

“It’s the night patrol! We need to get out of here before he sees us.”

“He?”

“The police officer who walks this beat at night. If he sees us here, we are doomed!” She glanced around and saw the man in question apparently occupied with something that had caught his attention several houses away.

“All right,” Kyle said as he handed her the rope. “Hold this while I divert our landing for a while.”

The device rose and moved back to the back of the house. And though Father was on the warpath inside, all looked quiet and well from Millie’s vantage point. Perhaps the valet had convinced her father there was nothing to see behind the locked door. Or perhaps by now her sanctuary was in shambles.

Either option was possible, given the volatile nature of her father. However, Millie knew with absolute certainty if anything ever happened to the precious possessions inside that room, she would have no incentive to
protect Father or to live any life other than one where she was free to sketch and invent and explore her scientific curiosities.

“I’m glad we didn’t spend all the fuel in our travels tonight,” Kyle said,
interrupting her thoughts. “And I do have to praise my partner for thinking of using black silk. It makes the device hard to spot in the dark.”

“You have not said much about your partner. What is he like?” She paused. “I assume you speak of a he. Am I correct?”

“You are correct in saying I have not yet said much about my partner. As to whether he is a he, well, his wife thinks so.”

“I see.”

“Now hush. If I have to leave this in your back garden for lack of fuel to take me back to the Peabody, both of us will have some explaining to do in the morning, and not just to your father.”

Millie leaned against Kyle’s shoulder, suddenly far too aware of the fact that she wanted to know more about him. And perhaps she wanted to tell him more about her. He already knew her name and address and that she had an extensive library and...enough. What harm could come from asking?

“So, you are an inventor who works with a partner who is male and married. Your workshop is not in Memphis, and you carry with you some sort of identification that, when offered to a policeman, convinced him you could not possibly have stolen anything from a hotel room. Who are you, Kyle?”

She felt the rumble in his chest before she heard his chuckle. “Quiet, Millie, or you will bring the policeman back here.”

“Oh, my. Have I struck a nerve?”

“You have struck at the truth. And here is a little more truth for you. You have a fiancé and are to be married and shipped off along with all your worldly goods to England on Thursday. The last thing you need to know right now is more about me.”

“Unless my hypothesis proves untrue due to new information.”

When Kyle did not immediately respond, Millie reached to jab him with her elbow. “What? No witty comment on my little joke?”

“I have plenty to say on the matter, but in the interest of good sense, I am going to keep my mouth shut.”

The whistling started up again, causing Millie to fall silent. As the sound of the officer trailed off, so did her ability to keep from speaking.

“All right,” she whispered. “What say you tell me something more
about you? Anything. After all, you have bound us together several times, and my guess is I am the only girl you’ve taken to the moon and back.”

Again he chuckled. “Millie, you are truly one of a kind. Now be still so I don’t run this thing into the trees trying to land on the balcony.”

“Are you saying you cannot manage this thing except under ideal conditions?” She shook her head as if she were attempting to absorb the information. “And I was under the assumption that a test flight was meant to test under multiple conditions.” She lifted her free hand to cover his. “Here, let me console you. You poor, poor man. Your attention diverted by an ordinary female.”