Pinkerton nodded—in agreement, in dismay. He was remembering his detective’s uncharacteristic plea earlier that day, the way the man’s voice had shattered, the tremor in his hands that he’d been hard-pressed to disguise. But Hazard had, damn it. He had.
“He isn’t drinking anymore, Nora.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t. Especially if he’s under her influence again. That woman is evil, Mr. P. Surely you recognize that now if you didn’t before. The Baroness Von Drosten is the devil in silk and ermine.”
“She’s a fake,” Pinkerton said through clenched teeth.
A harsh laugh broke from Nora’s throat. “It doesn’t seem to matter, does it? Fake or not, she still manages to cast her evil spell on—”
“That’s enough, Nora.” Allan Pinkerton sagged into the chair behind his desk and began massaging his throbbing temples. His own worries about Jack Hazard were legion; he didn’t need Nora’s to aggravate them.
“Hazard has a plan,” he said, attempting to put an end to the discussion.
“He had a plan before,” Nora shot back, as soon as the words were out of her employer’s mouth. “He was going to seduce her last year, wasn’t he? But instead, the baroness seduced him. And worse.”
“This time he won’t be alone.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “That’s the other mistake I was intending to bring to your attention. To send littie Mrs. Matlin along on this…this devil’s business… is like sending a lamb to the slaughter.”
“She agreed, Nora. We spoke at length this afternoon,” he muttered. “The woman even seemed rather pleased.”
“She wants to keep her job! How the devil else would you expect her to behave?” Nora shot up from the arm of the chair now, planting her fists on her hips. “You’re determined to carry through with this, aren’t you?”
Allan Pinkerton closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head.
Nora threw up her hands. “I knew it. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother wasting my breath,” she muttered on her way to the door. “Nothing good will come of this. You mark my words. Jack Hazard will be lost forever, if he isn’t already. And God only knows what will happen to poor, unsuspecting Anna Matlin.”
“Is that all, Nora?” Pinkerton asked wearily.
“I should think that would be quite enough,” she said with a sniff. “Good night, Mr. P. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After his secretary slammed the door, Allan Pinkerton leaned forward, cradling his aching head in his hands, praying that for once in her life the infallible Nora Quillan was fallible—and dead, dead wrong.
For someone who had proceeded with slow caution for most of her twenty-six years, Anna Matlin felt as if she were speeding downhill on ice skates. For someone who had enjoyed invisibility for so long, she suddenly felt as if she were standing, quite naked, in the hot glare of a spotlight. And Anna wasn’t altogether certain that she liked it.
Everything was happening so fast, so unexpectedly. First there had been Mr. Pinkerton and his astonishing request. Then, at the Edgewood Inn, where Anna habitually took her meals, when she quietly announced she would be gone for the next few weeks, everyone had seemed, well…disappointed. Even sad. Anna had been amazed, particularly when the cook, Miranda, after shaking Anna’s hand, pulled her to her great, damp bosom and wailed how much she would miss her.
Right now, her landladies were behaving as if Anna were the center of the universe.
She had been a boarder in the big frame house on Adams Street for six years. She paid her rent on the first Saturday of every month and, when she wasn’t working at the Pinkerton Agency, Anna spent most of her time in her third-floor room, reading. Her landladies, the Misses Richmond, had always treated her kindly while keeping their distance. Until tonight. Anna had asked to borrow a trunk. Along with the luggage, however, she was now receiving a good deal of unasked-for advice.
Little Miss Richmond—Verna—was perched on the footboard of Anna’s bed at the moment, while big Miss Richmond—Dorothy—stood in the doorway, rather like a prison matron, jingling a set of keys.
“Your employer purchased a ticket for you, I presume,” Miss Dorothy said now.
“Well, not exactly.” Anna stuffed her hairbrush in the carpetbag, then took it out again and put it on the dresser She’d be needing it in the morning. She reached into her handbag and produced a small but official-looking square of paper. “He gave me this, instead.”
Miss Verna snatched it from her hand. “Oh, my. This is interesting. It seems to be a pass of some sort for the Chicago, Alton and St. Louis Railroad.”
“I’d be more comfortable with a ticket, myself,” Miss Dorothy said with disdain “One never knows about these things.”
“It looks quite official to me, sister.” Miss Verna handed the paper back to Anna. “I’m sure it’s all right.”
“A lot you know,” the larger sister snapped. “And just when did you last travel by train, Verna Richmond?”
“Actually, I’ve never…”
“Precisely.” Miss Dorothy gave her keys an authoritative jingle. “I’d be much happier, too, if you weren’t traveling alone, Mrs. Matlin. You did say that was the plan, didn’t you?”
Anna merely nodded now, as she continued to take underwear from the dresser, fold it, then lay the garments carefully in the trunk. She had indeed told her landladies she was being sent to St. Louis alone, not knowing whether or not they would take exception or offense to the truth, unsure whether or not they would let her return after traveling with a member of the opposite sex. For, when this surprising assignment was over, Anna had every intention of returning—to this house and this room, to her quiet life.
A little ripple of excitement coursed through her, bringing goose bumps to her skin. She was going to St. Louis with him. With Johnathan Hazard. As his wife! Suddenly she wanted to pinch herself—again— to make certain this wasn’t a dream. If it was, Miss Dorothy’s voice broke into it.
“We’ll want to know where you’re staying, dear. I don’t suppose your employer gave you a hotel pass, as well? You’ll want to choose a simple establishment.”
“Hotels can be dreadfully expensive,” Miss Verna put in, but when her sister clucked her tongue, she quickly added, “Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never stayed in one personally.”
Anna laid another chemise in the trunk. “Actually, I don’t know where I’ll be staying. Someone in the St. Louis agency is meeting me there. I’m sure he will have made all the proper arrangements.”
Her landladies gasped in unison.
“He?”
“Who,
