Kathleen Y'Barbo (30 page)

“That your mother could have been an Arnaque?”

Or a Lafitte?

Kyle reached for the letter again and pretended to study it. Instead, he thought of the lovely woman beside him. How had he missed the delicate features of what must be a Creole heritage? The complexion that had to have been passed down from relatives of the French persuasion?

“My mother was far too young to have been the Sophie to whom Mr. Arnaque writes.” She let out a long breath. “I wish my father would be more forthcoming. All he will tell me is that his father, Hugh Cope, came to Memphis before the war but somehow met and married Genevieve Lacoste in New Orleans and then brought her back here. There was a Lacoste home in New Orleans, but it has passed out of the family’s hands. Beyond that, I know nothing else.”

At this his brows rose. “So there is a Louisiana connection in your family. Interesting.”

“Yes, but that does not answer the more immediate question of who J.L. Arnaque is.”

One thing was certain. Arnaque translated to “swindler.” But who was being swindled? If the answer was the federal government, then Kyle was obligated to act. Indeed, it was what he had been hired to do.

He would much prefer to sit here with Millie Cope and play the part of helpful assistant while she plied him with information and begged him to allow her to come along with him to New Orleans. Not that she realized he was going to the Crescent City. He hadn’t admitted that much yet.

It was indeed a conundrum. And yet there was evidence spread on the table before him that must be catalogued.

Yes, of course. That was the answer. Photograph the evidence and then leave quickly before he could change his mind and allow her to inch her way any closer into his heart. For she had certainly already gained far too much real estate there. That much he had realized when she asked about Sadie Callum.

Given the right situation, he could see himself settling down with a woman like Millie. A woman whose wit matched her beauty and whose humor matched his. Could imagine working beside her. Waking up next to her.

The thought jolted him back to reality. This was not a woman he could consider making his wife. Not when her father could be at the center of the case he was currently working. He forced his mind back on the project at hand.

Kyle allowed only a moment’s guilt at the possibility Millie might be incriminating herself by offering these items to him for photographing. He comforted himself with the thought that if anyone held guilt here, it was her father, not her.

He spread the letter open. “May I see the locket and cypher too?”

She handed them to him. “What are you doing?” she asked as she watched him arrange the items so they would all fit in the photograph.
Deciding the engraving on the back was more important than the painting
on the front, he turned the tiny piece of artwork over and placed it beside the locket.

The seemingly blank piece of foolscap presented a similar problem. He lifted the torn page to the lantern’s best light to study both sides. Though they looked the same, he knew anything could be written there—or nothing.

“Millie, would you open the cypher? I think it might be best to show the spanish coins.”

She shook her head. “I cannot.”

“Of course you can,” he said as he played with the lantern light. “I told you the code is ‘Lafitte’.”

“Yes, I know, but I have yet to manage it. Apparently you are the only one who can.”

He watched her try and fail several times before taking the piece from her hand to align the gold coins into their proper places. “See how I have done this?”

“I do, and I’m spelling ‘Lafitte,’ but the cypher refuses to budge.”

“Show me.”

He pressed the cypher into her palm and then leaned close. The scent of her perfume, soft and floral, diverted his attention.

Her fingers moved. He saw that from his peripheral vision, for his attention was focused on the curve of her jawline, the dark lashes that swept her high porcelain cheekbones, and the way her pink lips turned up slightly as she concentrated.

“See, it’s hopeless.” She caught him looking. “What? Are you amused that I cannot open my own cypher?”

Had he been smiling? He hadn’t noticed.

“Not at all.” He reached to take the coins from her, and his fingers brushed her palm. “I should have been more specific in the method I used to spell ‘Lafitte.’” She was close. Too close.

Kyle cleared his throat and continued. “See these notches here?” He indicated a set of deep indentions that, when aligned, traveled the length of the stacked coins.

“Yes, and I did notice those two were deeper than the others. I assumed
that meant one was the starting point. The difficulty was in deciding which of the two was the correct one.”

“Are you familiar with semaphore flags?”

Her brow wrinkled as she concentrated. “As in flag signals used by ships?”

“The very same.” He aligned the seven coins so that each of them corresponded to a flag position of a letter. “See here, this is an
L
. And the next one is an
A
. Then an
F
...”

It was his turn to catch Millie watching him instead of the cypher. “What?”

“Nothing. I...” She tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear. “It’s just that the code is so simple and obvious and yet so effective.”

“Sometimes it’s the simplest things that confound us, Millie,” he said, no longer speaking of the cypher. He leaned closer. “And it’s the obvious that we are apt to miss.” Such as how the Lord had already answered his question about whether this woman was the one. And yet though the answer had come, the manner in which God would make such an impossibility actually happen eluded Kyle.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong? No.” He handed the cypher back to her. “Try it again. And should you find yourself unable to open it, there is a simple solution. Just break it. The gold is soft and can be managed without too much trouble.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Kyle finally had everything arranged as best he could manage. He lifted the camera and paused only a moment. “Once I take the photograph I have a limited amount of time to develop the plate.”

“Wait then.” She touched his sleeve. “Is there no way I can convince you to allow me to accompany you to your laboratory to do further research on these items?”

Oh, how he wanted to say yes. How he wanted to kiss her again and toss aside his Pinkerton assignment to see where the Lord was leading in a relationship with her. But responsibility and good sense must prevail.

“There is not,” he said, though he had to look away from her to accomplish the steady tone he used.

“And what of my offer to help search for the treasure?”

“I’m taking that under advisement.” This time he met her gaze. “That is the best I can do at the moment.”

“I see.” She laced her hands together in her lap and looked away in her turn. A moment later she returned her attention to him. “Then I shall require a gentleman’s promise of confidentiality from you regarding the things I have shared.”

“Including the kiss?” At her surprised look, he quickly amended, “Forgive me. I could not resist. And yes, you have my promise.”

“Especially the kiss,” she said as the beginnings of a smile showed on those lips that haunted his dreams. “Which was only a celebration of the New Year and nothing else.”

“Of course.” He lifted one brow. “And the other time?”

“What other time?” she asked as if daring him to argue.

A memory of kissing her lips and dusting soft kisses across her temple in this very room arose. Quickly he pressed it back into place in his mind. “Yes, of course. What other time?”

She nodded to the table and the items arranged there. “Go ahead, then.”

He did as she suggested, making the adjustment to the level of brilliance the lantern produced until everything looked just right. And then Millie caught his eye, and he aimed the camera at her instead.

She laughed at just the right moment, or at least it appeared so through the viewing glass. “I have never seen a camera like that.”

“No, you have not.” He made quick work of exchanging the used plate for a fresh one. “Nor will you see it again.”

“So this is another of your inventions? What is the principle behind it?” When he told her, she continued. “Well then, I just might see it again if I decide to travel on my own. When did you say you were going?”

“I did not say.”

Those beautiful eyes held his gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Please lean away from the lantern. You’re casting a shadow on the evidence.”

“Evidence?” She did as he asked but her expression changed to one of suspicion. “You sound like a police officer.”

Choosing not to respond to that, Kyle held the camera very still until he was certain the image would not blur. When he finished and looked up, her expression had changed again.

Millie reached to touch his sleeve. “I cannot believe I have forgotten to ask. Is your flying machine...that is, have I ruined it permanently?”

Kyle returned the used plate to his satchel and camera to his pocket before leaning back against the chair cushions. “No, it is not permanently ruined. Other than a bullet hole in the silk, it is remarkably free from damage.”

“Oh, good.” She released her grip on his sleeve, tears now glistening in the lamp’s golden light. “I was terribly afraid I had cost you a patent. I’m so sorry. I—”

“Millie.” Though he wanted to embrace her, Kyle set the satchel aside and regarded her from a safe distance. “I understand you were acting on instinct.” He paused to offer her his handkerchief. “I’m just glad you were carrying a Remington and not a rifle.”

Now she laughed, even as she dabbed at damp cheeks. “I no longer carry it.”

He feigned horror. “Please do not tell me you have purchased a larger weapon.”

“No, of course not. I cannot carry something I use inappropriately.”

Kyle placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “You were trying to help me. Other than the fact that you did a little bit of damage, you accomplished what you intended.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “I did not lose the machine, did I?”

“That is true,” she said softly.

“So you see, it all worked out.” He released her and reached for the satchel. “Now, tell me goodbye, my society scientist. If I stay here much longer, I will have nothing left on these plates to develop.”

He glanced past her to the fireplace. “Oh, before I go. Were you aware that the flue in this fireplace carries sound quite well? While I was
waiting
I could clearly hear two women working in the kitchen, which I assume is two floors beneath this one.” Kyle shrugged. “I took the liberty of closing the flue. That should make this room soundproof.”

“Yes, I was aware of that issue in this house, although I have never heard a conversation clearly. That may not be the same for those down in the kitchen.”

Gesturing to his hat, Kyle grinned. “I did have the help of my hearing device.”

She smiled back at him. “I shall have to be careful to instruct the maids to open the flue before laying a fire next time.”

Small talk. He detested it. And yet he found himself wishing he could remain in this chilly attic room and talk about anything but what was really important. Instead, he moved toward the window and away from the woman who tempted him so.

“I shall continue to search for the treasure whether you accept my offer to help or not,” she said when he met her gaze. “I have no choice.”

“Nor do I,” he admitted as he extinguished the lantern and plunged the room into silver shadows and puddles of moonlight. “Which is why I cannot accept.” He reached for the curtains. “However, you have my word that what we have discussed here will go no further.”

She was moving toward him now. “And the kisses?”

“I thought we have covered that point. Am I mistaken?”

“We covered the first two times we kissed.” She stepped within his reach, her gaze holding his. “However, we have made no such arrangement with the third.”

Only an idiot would have missed that hint. And he was a certified genius.

Gathering her in his arms, Kyle inhaled once more the floral scent that was all Millie. A scent he would commit to memory and recall often until the Lord showed him how the two of them might find their way back to each other. He bent his head toward her only to find her finger pressed against his lips.

“Do not think this is a goodbye kiss, Kyle,” she whispered, “for I promise you I will see you again.” She gave him a meaningful look and a wry smile. “And I always keep my promises.”

“As do I,” he said before he captured her lips with his.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Time stood still.

“I fear I have made a mistake,” he finally managed with a whisper that sounded far too rough to his ears.

“Oh?” Her eyes widened even as he traced the line of her jaw with his knuckle.

“Yes, a terrible mistake.” He smiled. “I should have waited to photograph you now. Like this.” He reached to wrap a strand of dark hair around his finger and then met her gaze once more. “Freshly kissed.”

“Yes, well,” she said, her voice strained and soft, “as we have no agreement in place for any further kisses, I think we should probably say our goodbyes now. Unless you wish to change your mind about allowing me to go with you.”

“Millie,” he said gently as he released her curl, “I think under the circumstances traveling together might prove ill advised, don’t you?”

She appeared to consider his question. Then slowly she nodded.

“Goodbye, Millie Cope. For now, at least.”

A smile was her response. “One thing more,” she added. “You should know that my interest in traveling to visit your workshop is motivated solely by professional curiosity and a need to find answers to a pressing question.”

To her surprise, he bent to kiss her again. “As was that.”

“Well...” she began, though she seemed unable to complete the thought.

“You have my promise of discretion, Millie. And who knows? Perhaps we will meet again soon.”