Flora's Wish (50 page)

He did. He'd seen it happen… just not to him.

“Once Tucker's in jail, I'll have more time to think about Flora.” Lucas let out a long breath. “And yes, you've guessed right about my feelings for her. And possibly hers for me. But we both know we'll get over it. She has her family to see to, and I have the law to uphold.”

As he said it, Lucas knew those were thin excuses. And yet he couldn't imagine asking for Flora's hand in marriage. Not that she would ever accept. She was a lady used to fine things, and he was a Pinkerton agent used to sleeping in a different town every few weeks and putting his job above everything else.

Which is why he would never ask.

A few hours later, Flora stood at the window and watched Lucas disappear around the corner, his gait indicating that whatever mission he was conducting now was important. Well, so was hers: to send a telegram to the man who managed the telegraph office in Natchez Under-the-Hill requesting he invite his friend Mr. Tucker to tonight's party. The details would have to be brief but sufficient to draw the man to the correct location at the appointed time.

She'd almost made her escape through the front door when Winny arrived at the house. “Leaving so soon, Flora?” he said, though his tone told her he cared little for the answer.

“I just thought I'd take care of a small matter.” She stepped aside to allow him entry. “I won't be long.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Winthrop headed upstairs without comment. His snub might have bothered her had she not been in a hurry.

Inquiring of the best place to send a telegram had taken some doing, but before long Flora returned to Third Street, her mission accomplished. Now to wait and see whether that awful telegraph operator in Natchez Under-the-Hill would pass along the invitation she'd sent to his pal Will Tucker. If anyone knew how to find him, it was that man. Or, at least, he should if Mr. Tucker's assertions were true and the two men were working together on an investigation.

Slipping back inside the Brimm house, Flora felt a thrill of excitement at a job accomplished without detection. Was this what it felt like to be a Pinkerton?

“Back so soon?” Winny looked up from his afternoon glass of bourbon. “I don't see shopping bags, so I'm left to believe you slipped out to meet someone. Not slipping around behind your fiancé are you?”

Of all the insolent questions! “I suppose it would make you happy if our wedding was called off,” she said snappishly.

His expression did not change, though he did sit up a bit straighter in his father's favorite armchair. “What are you insinuating, Flora?”

She gathered her arms around her waist and fixed her cousin with an even stare. “Only that you would have much to gain should I be unable to produce a Brimm heir.”

Winny took a slow sip of the brown liquid before setting the glass aside. “Flora Brimm, do you really think I'd be so vulgar as to impede your happiness?”

“Vulgar?” She shook her head. “Not you. Unless you had a good reason.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Finally, he sighed. “We both know I have plenty of reasons.” A shrug, and he once again reached for the liquor. “Tell me the truth. Are you marrying for love or so that I don't sell Brimmfield out from under your addlepated relatives and your crippled sister?” At Flora's gasp, he continued. “Is she still afraid to leave that cottage? It would be a pity if something happened and she was forced to rejoin the world, wouldn't it?”

Rage blinded her as Flora launched herself toward Winny. She lifted her hand with the intent to slap him.

“Go ahead. I deserve it.”

What had she become? Lowering her arm, Flora began to shake, either from anger or in the knowledge that in that moment she'd wished harm—serious harm—on Winthrop Brimm. And that made her no better than he.

“The simple thing would be to blame Grandfather Brimm,” her cousin said, “but the truth of it is that we're both at fault.”

She found it impossible to respond.

“I've collected debts almost as quickly as you've collected former fiancés. Ironically, mine were acquired in the name of love, though I doubt you would believe me.” He lifted his glass. “To the Brimm frauds. Anything for money, eh?”

The Brimm frauds.
If only she could argue the point.

“Apparently, I've struck a nerve.” After another swig of bourbon, he pointed the empty glass at her. “The trouble is you don't want Brimmfield any more than I do. It's just a means to an end.”

“It's my home,” she finally managed.

“It's your sister's home. If you win this contest, she'll never be forced to return to the world.” The tumbler fell from his hand and shattered. “At least with Brimmfield gone, she might actually have to begin living again.”

He paused to give her a look. She returned it with a vengeance.

“You know it's true, Flora. You're not responsible for her fall, and don't forget I was there too. I saw it all. But you will be responsible if you continue to allow her to hide away from the world.”

“You don't care about Violet. You laughed and said we couldn't do it.”

A shrug. “I was wrong. But I do care.”

“How much money will it take to buy Brimmfield back from you?”

His smile ratcheted up a notch. “Ah, now look who's conceding defeat.”

“How much?” she demanded even as she heard the door open behind her. “Name a sum and I'll raise it.”

“How, Flora?” Winny said. “By marrying the Irish whelp? Do you have any idea who McMinn is? His mother's good enough stock, old New Orleans money, but his father—”

“What's going on here?” Lucas demanded.

“Tell her who you are, McMinn.” Winny rose. “Then see if she still wants to marry you.”

Rather than give Lucas the explanation his expression required or Winny the clarification that Lucas was her fiancé in name only, Flora straightened her spine and walked away. Somehow through shimmering tears she found her room, locked her door, and buried her face in her pillows. When she rose a while later to prepare for the evening ahead, she had replaced the tears with a calm resolve.

Winthrop Brimm would not touch Brimmfield, nor would her sister's carefully contained world be shattered. Of this Flora would make sure. And as to who Lucas McMinn was—at the moment it didn't matter. He was her fiancé, at least in name, and together they would put an end to whatever larceny Will Tucker intended with the next poor woman who fell for his charms.

For tonight, this would be enough. Tomorrow she would demand to be allowed to return to Brimmfield. She would just have to figure another plan while there was still time.

Not how she'd hoped Fatal Flora would return to Natchez.

Shrugging off the thought, she donned a Worth gown of deepest sapphire trimmed in black lace that nipped her waist and accented her eyes. Tiny drop earrings with perfectly set pearls dangling among sparkles of diamonds, aquamarines, and sapphires completed the ensemble and caused Flora to smile. The earrings, borrowed from Grandmama, were an exact copy of the pair that Will Tucker appeared to have stolen.

She told herself it didn't matter what Lucas McMinn thought of her ensemble. And yet when she spied the reflection of herself in the mirror, she hoped to offer a striking ensemble that would set Lucas McMinn's heart racing. From the expression on the lawman's face as she made her way down the stairs, it appeared she had succeeded.

She tore her attention from Lucas to meet Winny's stare. Nothing in his expression gave away his thoughts, though neither man appeared happy to be in the company of the other.

Flora ignored her cousin to address Lucas. “Shall we?”

He took her arm, and then, as Winny disappeared out the door, leaned close. “Are you all right?”

She looked up into his beautiful green eyes. “Yes. Though I might be in need of hiring a Pinkerton agent very soon.”

“Oh?” He regarded Winny's retreating back with a suspicious look. “Has he made threats?”

Her cousin had already taken his place in the carriage. Flora, however, was in no mood to join him just yet. “He's far too certain of victory to resort to something so vulgar.”

“Vulgar?” Lucas muttered under his breath. “I'll see that doesn't happen, Flora. You have my word.”

“How? By marrying me and providing the Brimm heir?” Before he could respond, she hurried to continue. “Please forgive me for saying that. I shouldn't have. I just don't know what to do. I made him an offer of money for his inheritance. Pray Grandmama is willing to go along with the idea.”

“Is that legal?” he asked as he moved her toward the door. “According to the will, I mean?”

“Anything's legal if you word the documents properly.” She lifted one brow. “I'm starting to sound like my grandmother, aren't I?”

Lucas grinned. “I'm afraid so, though that's not necessarily a negative, depending on who is on the receiving end.” He paused. “You may not have as much trouble getting your cousin to agree as you may think.”

She allowed him to assist her with her wrap and then swiveled to face him. “Oh?”

Lucas seemed to be considering his words. “It's possible one of the men he's indebted to might be having financial trouble himself. He's made some threats over what might happen should Winthrop not repay him. Serious threats.”

Flora gasped. “Oh, no. Is Winny in danger?”

“He could be.” Again he seemed to be thinking before he spoke. “It's possible those threats might extend beyond him. To you.”

“Me?” She shook her head. “Why me?”

This time he met her eyes with an intent look. “If you inherit, he won't. That would make repayment of any loans, overdue or otherwise, difficult.”

“So you think this man might want to see that I don't…” Her heart sank. “Oh, Lucas, do you think he might be responsible for any of the deaths of…”

She couldn't continue. Thankfully, she didn't have to, for he took her hand and squeezed it. “We're going to check on that. As soon as I get you inside, I'll have a quick meeting with Kyle to catch him up on all of this. Do you think you can behave yourself long enough to let me do that?”

Flora managed a grin despite the circumstances. “Do you doubt me?”

“I think the question is, do you doubt me?” Lucas said, his expression softened, perhaps by the question or maybe it was merely a trick of the deepening shadows.

“Trust you? Yes, I believe I do, though if I only knew more about you, Mr. McMinn. Just a little more information to lessen the mystery of who you are would do the trick, I believe.”

“Like why your cousin calls me the Irish whelp?”

“Hurry along, will you?” Winny called.

Though Lucas had offered the opportunity to delve into his past, his expression told her of the cost involved. Kissing him quickly on his cheek, she turned to make her way down the front steps to the carriage, leaving Lucas to follow.

Had Flora not been preoccupied with her plans for the evening, she might have cared that Winny glowered at her the entire way to Prytania Street. Of course, Lucas returned the expression in kind, making it obvious to her cousin that should he intend an argument, he would find one with a Pinkerton agent.

For a few hours she would set aside the concerns of Brimmfield and the worry of whether Winny would cooperate in favor of a different mission. Tonight she intended on giving Will Tucker a piece of her mind and, she hoped, on setting the man off on a different path.

Perhaps one that did not involve offering hope and fraud in a measure equal to his substantial charms.

When the carriage took its place in the line of arriving vehicles, Flora focused her thoughts and memorized the brief speech she intended to offer Mr. Tucker. She even considered whether she should tell Lucas of her intentions, but she discarded that idea when her gaze met his.

With him watching, she would never be able to recall a word. She might miss Mr. Tucker altogether.