Masked by Moonlight (19 page)

R
everend Bauers wandered out of his bedchamber with the look of someone growing weary of being roused by an Englishman at all hours of the night. He managed a weak grin when he saw that Matthew was still dressed as the Bandit—whip, sword and all. It was near one o’clock in the morning.

“I half suspected,” Bauers said, yawning as he led Matthew into his study, “you’d come here tonight, but I thought you’d be glowing with happiness. You look dashing. And terrible.” He stifled another yawn. “What has happened?”

“Everything,” Matthew said, still working to keep the tidal wave of emotions from overtaking him. He slumped into a chair, planting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang. He looked at his polished black boots and thought sourly,
I am no hero.

Bauers pulled a chair up next to him. “I was so sure she cared for you. I am sorry.”

Matthew looked up. “She does,” he said, a cockeyed smile flitting across his face. “I am in love. It is dreadful.”

The reverend looked puzzled. “I’ll admit you have some rather unusual circumstances, but most men do look happier when they say such things. What happened?”

“She did not believe me at first. I thought she would know, somehow, just by looking at me, but even when I told her…it took a moment.”

“You are the last person she would suspect,” Bauers offered. “I imagine she’s never had so great a surprise.”

Matthew’s heart turned over in his chest when he remembered the look in her eyes. “It was wonderful.” He cast his gaze over to Bauers, who still appeared confused as to why a man who has just kissed the woman he loves seemed as if he were to be hanged within the hour. “And then it all fell to pieces.”

“How?”

“We were almost interrupted by Stuart, but I managed to escape while Georgia held him off. I left my hat and mask, though, so I went back a few moments later. That was where I overheard Stuart and Dexter Oakman on the terrace.” Matthew scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue suddenly flooding him. “I’ve been seeing trouble in the Covington books. Signs of wrongdoing, but nothing I could put a finger on. But it’s them.”

“What do you mean?” Bauers asked, still confused.

“Waterhouse and Oakman. They’ve been collaborating. Conspiring, actually. They’ve got a plan to traffic opium through Covington Enterprises. I believe the first shipment is to arrive Thursday night.”

Bauers’s face paled. “I find that hard to believe. Opium? Even Stuart would not fall in league with that lot.”

“He’s not,” said Matthew darkly. “He’s crossing them.”

“Going against the highbinders? For opium? They’ll have him killed.”

“He wouldn’t be the first.” Matthew looked gravely at Reverend Bauers. “Or the last.” He voiced the thought that had driven him here in the middle of the night. “They’d harm Georgia if they thought it would be the way to Stuart.”

“I wish I could say you exaggerate. But I don’t think you do.” Bauers sighed heavily. “What ugliness. I do not think highly of Stuart Waterhouse, but even I would think him above this.”

“The shipment must already be en route. We cannot stop it now. So the question becomes what do we do when it gets here?”

Bauers’s expression echoed Matthew’s thoughts: there were no good choices. Every option had terrible consequences. “The
true
question is what are you going to tell Georgia?”

It felt as if all Matthew’s breath ran out of his body. “I must tell her. She needs to be part of whatever is decided.”

Reverend Bauers looked relieved. “I am glad you see it that way.” He leaned closer. “Still, can you not also see God’s timing in this? It is no mistake that you are here, now, with her. That you were the one to discover this. Can you take heart from knowing this must surely be part of God’s plan?”

“I should, but I’m finding it rather difficult to get past the disaster part. I do not care for the Lord’s sense of timing on this.”

Bauers put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I have a friend who once said that what we think of as disaster and calamity is often God’s prelude to a mighty victory. After all, it takes a big problem to let God show how powerful He can be.”

“In that case, I believe we qualify for a miracle.” Matthew looked at the reverend. “Can you get her here? Now? Under some pretense?”

“Do you not think that a little rest might give you a clearer head? The dawn will not make things worse, but it might clear your thinking. You are welcome to stay here if you like, but perhaps you might want to get out of those clothes.”

Matthew pulled himself off the chair and paced the room. “I’m exhausted, but I’m too angry to sleep. He’s a weasel. A thoughtless, spineless snake without a moral to his name.” He turned on the reverend. “What right does he have to take the Covington name down with him? To endanger Georgia? I have never been a man prone to violence, but so help me, Bauers…”

The reverend grabbed his arm. “All the more reason to put a little time behind you before you see Georgia. You’ve got to have your head about you when you tell her. You owe her that much.”

Georgia woke to find her inkwell still open, her pen still lying atop the journal beside her on the bed. She’d written pages upon pages after retiring last night. The remainder of the party seemed a blur of unnecessary introductions, distracted small talk and secretive glances around the room. Part of her knew Matthew would be gone after their encounter on the terrace, yet part of her still surveyed the party on the slim chance he dared to stay.

Did he feel the way she did this morning? As if the world had begun turning in a new fashion? As if everything were too wonderful? Their circumstances had not changed; all the reasons why they could have little time together were still there. Yet when she thought of him and what it had felt like to settle into his strong arms last night, the obstacles seemed smaller. She knew one thing for certain: no matter what the future held, she would not have traded last night for all the world. Even though he did not know the half of what he’d done, Stuart had given her the most marvelous present ever. The fact that she would be presenting Reverend Bauers with a generous contribution later today was just God’s overabundant blessing.

You knew all along, didn’t You, Father? You knew he was there, but You knew the steps I needed to take to find him. The Bandit, the ball, I accomplished those things with the gifts You gave me. You’ve blessed me with courage and confidence, and rewarded me with love.

Love.
Did she love him? Her heart answered with a cautious, exhilarated “yes.” As if it felt too new to say for certain. She had loved parts of two men, knowing the impossibility of both. Now those two men had become one, and impossibility didn’t seem…well, impossible. Did everyone newly in love feel as if nothing was beyond them? As if the combination of their hearts rendered all obstacles defeated?

England was still England. California was still California. Stuart, for that matter, was still Stuart. But Matthew was the Bandit. And that changed everything.

Georgia watched Matthew pull the door shut. Reverend Bauers’s study was hardly a fitting place for such a meeting, but it was the most private, and inconspicuous, place possible.

Had Matthew been this handsome before? Surely he had not changed, yet Georgia could have sworn his eyes were a deeper blue, the cut of his shoulders broader, his voice smoother than yesterday.

He took her hand and kissed it as if it were the most precious thing God ever created. She’d rehearsed what she would say to him next time they stole a moment in private, and it came tumbling out of her at his touch. “I love you, and I don’t care if you have to go back to England, because last night was enough for a lifetime and I love you for letting me know the truth.” It came out in a gush of words, a single babbling exhalation that made her blush so fiercely she thought even the tops of her feet must be pink.

The resulting glow in his eyes surely turned her feet scarlet. He reached up and feathered his fingers against her cheek. He planted the tenderest of kisses where his fingers had been. It made her heart drop through her stomach.

“I had meant to be more elegant than that,” she added when she could finally open her eyes. “But you seem to make my sense leave me.”

Matthew circled her waist with his hands. “I don’t know what future God holds for us, Georgia. Especially now. But I do know that I love you. I loved you even before you were George. I love you doubly now, and I would not take last night back for anything.”

She’d thought, in her daydreams, that the moment they professed their love he would sweep her into a breathtaking kiss. She was sure of his words, but there was something dark lurking in his eyes, a tension in his face. “But what?” she said slowly, her intuition telling her all was far from well.

“But I do love you enough to offer you the truth,” he continued, choosing his words carefully, “and there is something you must know. Something I only learned last night. A very hard truth, Georgia.”

It seemed there should be something dramatic she should say. Something about drawing strength from love, or Paul’s words about welcoming trials, but none of them fit the deeply pained way Matthew was looking at her. Something was very, very wrong.

“What is it, Matthew?” she asked, as steadily as she could.

He shifted his feet, glanced away for a second and then gazed straight into her eyes.
He’s gathering courage,
she thought.
Whatever can be so awful now?

“I have suspected for some weeks that all is not well at Covington Enterprises. Things have been…altered…for my arrival. Last night, after I left you, I discovered who has been planning crimes through Covington Enterprises and why.” His hands tightened around her waist. He shook his head and groaned. “I do not know how to say this easily.”

“Then simply say it,” Georgia said, fighting her growing sense of fear.
He is leaving on the next ship,
she thought.
He’s to be arrested within the hour. Men are plotting his murder and he needs to run for his life.
A thousand scenarios played out in her imagination. The horrible black hole in the pit of her stomach grew deeper with every look from him.

Matthew pulled in a shuddering breath. “The two men corrupting Covington Enterprises are Dexter Oakman and—and Stuart.”

G
eorgia registered the names, but her mind would not accept the concept. “Stuart?” She stared at Matthew as he waited patiently for her to wade through the shock of what he had just told her. “Stuart?” she repeated. “He has no reason to. I don’t understand.”

“I came back for my hat and mask after I left you last night. Stuart was still on the terrace, evidently waiting for Oakman. I overheard their conversation. They are planning to smuggle in opium and hide it within the Covington shipments. They’ve been paying off port officials and policeman for some time, evidently, and that’s what I’ve found hidden in the books.”

Georgia pulled her hands from Matthew’s. “Opium? The Chinamen’s drug?”

“I gather there’s a lot of money to be made in it. No one would suspect someone like Stuart. Or Covington Enterprises. Most consider it a purely Chinese affair.”

“Stuart? Involved in something like that? No. Stuart is misguided at times, but not this. Surely you misunderstood. Why ever would Stuart get involved? He’s no friend of the Chinese, and certainly not their crimes. Those highbinders—I’ve heard enough about those. They…they
kill
people over far less than opium.”

Matthew put his hand to his forehead. “I’ve no doubt they’d kill Stuart if he crossed them. Which, Georgia, is exactly what he is planning to do. Undercut the Chinese opium black market. He’d make a fortune—if he lives. Which I very much doubt he will, no matter how powerful he thinks himself to be. He’s in danger, Georgia. Grave danger. Stuart’s made enough enemies over the years. The highbinders would find him an easy target.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “And, Georgia, you need to understand this. Listen to me. I fear they wouldn’t hesitate to harm you to get to him. If Stuart fails Thursday night, he might pay for it in jail. But if he succeeds, then both of you are in danger. And Covington Enterprises is undone. Your world and mine could come apart Thursday night, and I do not know what to do about it.”

It became hard to breathe. Stuart was cunning, unscrupulous, but this? This seemed beneath even him. His holdings were doing splendidly—what need did they have of more money? Such dangerous money? From such a horrible source? “It can’t be true. Matthew, it cannot be.”

He ran his finger down the angled edges of a pewter candlestick on the study shelf next to him. “I would give anything that it were not so.” He looked at her, and she thought all the blue had fled his eyes, leaving them black and fathomless. He was afraid.

“Have you seen anything, heard anything, that might lead you to believe Stuart is up to something?” Matthew asked.

She looked at him—this man who was both a man and a hero—and felt her own fear ignite. Stuart had been acting strangely lately, and had indeed spent a lot of time with Dexter Oakman. He’d even started locking up his papers in a safe at night—something he had never done before. Could Stuart now be some stranger she did not really know? Some man capable of things she could not fathom?

“Perhaps. What do we do if it’s true?” she whispered, clutching suddenly at his shoulder. “How can we save him? Or me?”

“I don’t know how yet,” he said, pulling her to him. She heard the frustration in his voice, felt the urgency tightening his chest. “But I promise you, if there’s a way, we will find it. We,” he repeated, tilting her face up to his. “You and me together. Between the four of us—you, me, the Bandit and George, there’s got to be a way.”

“Six,” Georgia answered shakily. “I have a feeling we can count on Reverend Bauers and God as well.” She attempted a small smile, but it failed miserably. Her lips melted into a pathetic, trembling pout.

He kissed away the tear that pooled at the corner of her eye. She felt small and defenseless, unable to keep up any semblance of courage. “Just when I thought I could not love you more,” he whispered into her hair as he wrapped his strong arms around her, as if to keep the whole world at bay.

“Shut down the docks? We cannot simply shut down the port of San Francisco, Covington. It can’t be done.” Reverend Bauers, Georgia and Matthew sat around a table in the Reverend’s study, supposedly factoring the Bandit Ball donations into Grace House’s bookkeeping.

“I know that, Bauers, but we must find a way to effectively do that very thing.”

“Or,” mused Georgia, “focus so much attention onto the docks that the shipment can’t go through unnoticed. Oh,” she sighed, looking pained, “I hate this. I hate every single bit of it. I just can’t believe Stuart’s capable of something like this.” Her voice quivered as she added, “He’s my brother. My only family.”

Matthew grasped her hand. “You have me. And I cannot begin to understand what it must feel like to be plotting Stuart’s demise. But you must bear up, Georgia. You have it in you, I know you do.”

“How can I go home? How can I pretend everything is fine when I know it is all going to pieces right in front of me?”

He wanted to wrap her up in his arms all over again. “Because you are strong enough,” he said. “Because if Stuart suspects something it will be all the more difficult to seize the shipment.” He stared hard into her eyes, willing her to feel the strength in herself that he had seen from the first. “You
are
strong enough.” After a moment, he turned his gaze to Bauers. “We’ve got to paralyze the docks. Or at least slow the activity down substantially.”

Georgia let her head fall into her hands. “Goodness, we’ll need an army to do that.”

Reverend Bauers suddenly froze. “And we know just how to raise one. Glory! I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Bauers?” Matthew questioned.

“An army. I was thinking we needed an army to clear the docks, but that’s not it at all. We need an army to
fill
them. We’ve already done it once. It will be easy to do it again.”

“Reverend?” Georgia said, looking as baffled as Matthew felt.

“Don’t you see, Georgia? You called forth an army of Bandits for your ball. Hundreds of men dressed as the Bandit. They raised money because money
was what they had.
Now, call forth another army of Bandits for May Day, on Thursday. Call for a gathering of Bandits on the docks. They’ll raise a ruckus because that’s what
they
do. Think of it—the German tradition of the Maypole, all the ribbons—it’s as good as if we planned it all along. If you issue an invitation through the
Herald,
the police will be primed to show up in heavy numbers. The docks will be swarmed and no will know who’s who because there’ll be so many Bandits.”

“Are there that many German families here?” Matthew asked.

“Yes, but we don’t have to stop there. You could write something to invite everyone. Irish families. Italian families. Even Chinese families. Turn it into a spontaneous May Day festival. They’ll all have just finished reading about your Bandit Ball, and they’re all ready to have a party of their own.” Bauers reached across the table to take Georgia’s hand. “You could do it, Georgia. You could write something to stir them up.”

“I could very well start a riot,” she replied.

“A riot might be the best weapon we have,” Matthew answered. “It would both slow Stuart down and direct everyone’s attention to the docks. I daresay it might work.”

“How could I ever get something like that into the
Herald?
Stuart would never run it. Not only that, if I somehow got him to, he’d know in advance and divert the shipment.”

“Even if he knew in advance,” Matthew retorted, “he has no way of diverting the shipment until the boat is already at the dock. In which case all he can do is keep it on board and delay its off-loading. We’d still be in a position to expose him.”

“This is such a hideous business.” Georgia stood up, her anger rising. Matthew had expected it to eventually find its way to the surface, and she was more than entitled to her feelings. She’d held out such hopes for Stuart. Persisted in believing the best of him, only to have it ripped out from beneath her. She paced the room now, her hands flailing in frustration.

“Exposing,” she said bitterly. “Rioting. Why can’t we simply go to the police with what we know? Why must it be so cloak-and-dagger?”

“Because we don’t know who can be trusted,” replied Reverend Bauers. “If Stuart’s been buying off the officials for months, we’ve no idea who’s in his pocket and who isn’t.” The clergyman rose and walked over to put a hand on Georgia’s shoulder. “Try to think of it this way, child. If we expose Stuart, he’ll suffer time in jail. If we don’t expose him and he succeeds, eventually the highbinders will catch up with him, and I doubt their treatment will be anything as kind as jail. We are not exposing Stuart so much as saving him from himself.”

“I’m done saving Stuart,” she retorted, boiling over. Matthew was rather amazed that she’d lasted as long as she had. “Let him hang himself with his own greed.” She pulled away from Bauers’s grasp. “Who knows what else he’s done? Who knows what sorts of awful things have been putting food on our table or buying my clothes or paying for silly balls! I’ve been a fool! A naive fool.”

Matthew caught her arm as she stormed past him. “You’ve not been a fool. You have every right to be angry. And I admit, it’s tempting to leave Stuart to his own fate. But you know you don’t mean that. You’re tired and upset and not yourself. Deserting Stuart is not who you are, even in anger. And aside from all else, it would put you in peril. I won’t have that.”

She turned to him, eyes blazing. “You won’t have that?” He immediately knew he’d chosen the wrong words. “Isn’t this
my
peril we’re discussing?” she countered. “Shouldn’t that be my decision?”

“Can’t you see that perhaps I
am
here to protect you?” Matthew squared off in front of her. “That God brought me here, to you, to
see you safe?”
He took her by the shoulders, almost wanting to shake her despair out of her, surprised at his own panic that she might do something rash. “That He has made you so dear to me that I will do whatever it takes?”

He felt the set of her shoulders give just a little, and he pulled her to him, feeling her soften against his chest. “You’ve been betrayed by someone you love, and that’s a terrible shock. But you are strong and clever. You’ve been saving San Francisco for years—do not stop now when it’s yourself you must save.” Her head fell against his shoulder and he planted a kiss onto her hair. “Go home. Plead a headache. Anything to keep to your rooms. I will ask Stuart to lunch or some such thing. Keep him occupied. He is no less a snake than many in London—I will be fine, even if I would like to wring his neck at the moment.”

Matthew tilted her head to look into her eyes. “This is a part I can play. The part only you can do, Georgia, is to write Thursday’s episode. Raise up our army. That is your gift. And now is the time to wield it.”