Kathleen Y'Barbo (41 page)

He let out a long breath and reached for the bread pudding. “Now for the only thing in the room sweeter than you, Millie Cope.” A wink accompanied the statement just to keep the mood light.

She tasted the concoction and then nodded. “Oh, this is...” Another taste. “Amazing. And it is made from bread? I can hardly believe it.”

“Day-old loaves from the French Market.”

“Tell me what is in this,” she said as she savored yet another bite.

And with that request, the conversation had veered back into safer territory. By the time Millie had scraped her bowl clean, he had done the same.

All thoughts of discussing how they would catch Will Tucker or find the Lafitte treasure were banished. Tomorrow would be a new day, but tonight there was nothing but a workshop, a kitchen, and a very happy Millie Cope.

Especially when he served up another helping of bread pudding.

Twenty-Three

January 30, 1889

New Orleans

A
winter gully-washer, as the maid termed yesterday’s rainstorm, kept Millie indoors and away from making contact with her newfound relative. Instead, she had made good use of Kyle’s library, zipping through the copy of
Faust
she still insisted was merely a loan and then moving on to a volume of critical essays on Shakespeare’s sonnets.

With Kyle otherwise occupied with business matters that had piled up in his absence from home, she found the hours passing at a leisurely pace. Even as she tried to lose herself in a book, Millie was aware that very soon all of this would end, and she would be forced to decide what to do next.

With Kyle occupied in his workshop, she found the hours passing at a leisurely pace. She could have joined him. He certainly had made the offer. But after the day before when they lost track of time and ended up dining at midnight, Millie determined she would be more careful. Very soon all of this would end, and she would be forced to decide what to do next.

If the treasure were found, the choices were much simpler. The only complications came in the warning Kyle had given her that the government might become involved and declare the treasure to be ill-gotten gains.

But if there was no treasure, if Sir William or Will Tucker or whatever his name was could not be found, then she would have to make other arrangements. For she could not go home to Memphis again. Not after all that had happened. Not after what her father had done.

Father.

Millie smiled as a plan emerged. Donning her wrap, she adjusted her new hat and set out down the stairs and into the brilliant late-January sunshine. Though she had not taken much notice of her surroundings, she felt sure she could find a telegraph office if she just set off walking.

And so she did, past wide lawns and narrow alleys. Picking her way over muddy patches that rivaled the ground she had traversed at the port, Millie kept walking. Now the homes were smaller, closer together, and some looked to be in need of repair.

A woman sweeping a sidewalk looked up as she passed. “
Bonjour
,” she called.

Millie returned the greeting, and then asked in French where the nearest telegraph office might be. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the office, her mission accomplished.

If Father did not pass on the message of her wish to reunite with her former fiancé, then she would figure out something else to attract the man to New Orleans. And if he did, she hoped to have a response very soon.

Now to decide how to tell her host that she had given an escaped criminal his telephone number. She thought he would be proud.

Her next errand was not so easily accomplished. Finding a way to Royal Street seemed an impossible task. Writing a note and having a footman deliver it, however, was certainly something she could manage.

Millie stepped into a tiny stationer’s store tucked into what almost appeared to be an alley and purchased a lovely set of writing papers and a pen. Sealing wax and a seal with a lovely floral design completed her purchase. Tucking the wrapped parcel under her arm, Millie retraced her steps toward Kyle’s home.

When she returned to the house on Prytania Street, however, he was furious. She was just climbing the stairs when he came out of the library, his expression as thunderous as yesterday’s weather.

“What do you mean you just walked out of here and found a telegraph office? And a stationers? Are you serious? This is New
Orleans, and you have no idea of the city or what could happen to you here! And for goodness’ sake, we have more paper in this house than we will ever use.”

“But there was a lovely shade of crimson sealing wax that I—”

“Millie, please listen to me. No lovely crimson sealing wax is worth the risk you take when you just go walking around without an escort.

He paused, and she made an attempt to interject, her fingers gripping the curved bannister as she looked down at him from the odd vantage point of superior height. Perhaps if she could manage to tell him about the steps she had taken to contact Sir William, then he would cease scolding her.

She smiled. “Kyle, I did something you will—”

“Millie, you did something that could have put you in danger.” His expression softened as he leaned against the newel post. “Has it occurred to you that people know who I am in this city? That a number of them know I work for the Pinkerton Agency?” He nodded to the secret door behind him in the foyer. “Have you not considered why I go to such extremes to keep certain things away from prying eyes? I assure you it is not my mother’s penchant for nosiness that gives me concern.”

“That is a relief,” Mrs. Russell said as she made a grand entrance through the front doors. Resplendent in yellow silk with matching hat and trim, the older woman handed off her fur to the footman.

“Mother,” Kyle said, his voice even and his expression anything but.

“Good morning, Kyle dear. While you are lecturing your lovely houseguest on safety, you might want to give consideration to the fact you left your doors unlocked.”

She moved across the marble floor to give her son a kiss on the cheek before turning her attention to Millie. “Good morning, my dear,” she said. “I have come to take you away from all of this for the day.” And then as if she only just thought of it, Mrs. Russell glanced over at Kyle. “That is, if you can spare her.”

“As a matter of fact, Mother, we do have plans—”

“Change them, unless it is something that absolutely cannot wait.” Again she turned to Millie. “Are you expected at an appointment of some sort?”

Kyle met her gaze over his mother’s head and appeared to be trying to send a message that he wished her to turn down his mother’s offer. At
least, that is what she assumed the shaking of his head and narrowing of his eyes meant.

“There is no actual appointment, ma’am. I only thought to pay a visit to a relative.”

“And this relative will still be at the same address tomorrow?” When Millie nodded, Mrs. Russell turned to Kyle. “You see, darling? Problem solved. Now do be a dear and finish your rant so that Millie and I can get on with our day.” She reached to give Kyle another kiss on the cheek. “I will be waiting in the carriage, so get to the point quickly.”

Millie covered her smile with her hand until the door closed behind Mrs. Russell. And then she began to giggle.

“I fail to see what is so funny,” he said through clenched jaw. “Can a man not make a valid point in his own home without someone interfering?”

“Is that a rhetorical question,” she managed when her giggles ceased, “or are you speaking of something specific, Emperor?”

His glare quickly softened. “Your ability to tame my mother is beyond my understanding. Therefore, I am giving you the day off to do whatever it is women do when they are allowed to roam free.”

“Roam free? You do realize you sound as if you are allowing the horses out of the barn.”

Ignoring her comment, Kyle pointed a finger at her. “But I warn you. My mother is relentless in her search for information, especially where it concerns me and my life. She refuses to make peace with the fact that although she manages to control my father most of the time, she cannot seem to get a handle on how to do the same thing with me. I insist you not say anything about me, my workshop, or any of the things you and I have said or done since our first meeting. I will have a promise from you on that.”

Though Kyle Russell was nothing like Silas Cope, at this moment the conversation was taking a dangerous turn in that direction. Her amusement vanished. Millie crossed her arms as her temper flared.

“Well, now,” she said as she carefully measured her tone. “Just look at who is trying to control whom.”

If he caught any veiled reference to her father, he did not allow that to show in his expression. Instead, he turned his back on her to walk toward
the door. Millie followed, in part because she wished to be gone from the conversation and from his presence, and also because she refused to allow him to so easily dismiss her.

When he turned abruptly, she nearly smacked into him. Kyle caught her by the shoulders and held her upright.

“How can I keep you safe if you do not cooperate, Millie?” he demanded, his tone still edged with the steel of his irritation.

The door opened, and a footman cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, but your mother has expressed an interest in collecting Miss Cope before she ages another year.”

His penitent expression almost gave Millie another round of giggles in spite of her anger with Kyle.

“Her words, sir. Not my own.”

“We will continue this conversation when you return,” he said to her firmly as the footman slipped outside and closed the door behind him. “And I will assume you understand the reason behind the request I have made of you.”

“So it is a request now?” she asked as she slid from his grasp.

“No. Yes.” His frustration showed in his tone and in the way he scrubbed at his face with his palms, leaving a lock of dark hair to fall across his forehead. “Millie, stop twisting my words. It always was a request, for I cannot possibly make demands on you, now can I?”

“Well, that is somewhat better.”

“Though a woman of your intelligence should have understood I was merely stating the obvious,” he continued, plunging himself right back into the inky depths of a poorly constructed argument. “A woman like my mother cannot be trusted. She is devious.”

“Yes, I am.” Mrs. Russell now stood at the door, a smile touching her perfectly painted lips. “And you should remember that, Miss Cope. I will stop at nothing to learn all of my son’s secrets.” She fixed Kyle with an amused look. “Really, son. You are a grown man. Why would I possibly wish to meddle?”

“Because it is your strong suit, and the skill you have honed best above almost all others.”

“Except loving my husband and child,” she said before turning her attention to Millie once more. “I believe Miss Cope can handle her own with me.”

“And you claim I am one to control?” he said to Millie. “I dare you to think otherwise after you have spent a day in my dear mother’s presence.”

“I adore you, Kyle,” Mrs. Russell said. “And, Millie, he is completely correct. I plan to try in every way I can to extract all sorts of personal information from you.” She smiled warmly. “I am very good at it, so I find it only fair that you be warned.”

Kyle gave Millie an I-told-you-so look before he left them. “Enjoy your day, ladies.” He stalked off in the direction of the hidden panel, likely to spend another day in his workshop.

Kyle need not have worried, for from the moment Millie entered the Russell carriage, his mother did all the talking. And singing.

For all she knew of the world of opera, Millie had never been fond of the musical genre. Perhaps it was Father’s penchant for it that had turned her against it. But here in the confines of the carriage, it was Josephine Russell’s vocal stylings that were completely responsible.

“Are we here already?” Mrs. Russell sang as the carriage stopped. “My, that was fast.” She allowed the footman to help her out and then waited for Millie to join her. Linking arms, she marched her charge into the nearest dressmaker’s shop and demanded a new wardrobe forthwith.