Running Wild (39 page)

Who—?

A gas lamp flared to life, illuminating Jane—and Simon
Price. Star yanked the sheets up to cover herself, as he lit another. “Jane,
Simon, I don’t understand. Is something the matter?”

“Why yes,
everything
,” Jane gasped, then grabbed the
bedpost, looking suddenly weak. Abandoning his task, Simon flew across the room
to bring her a chair. Giving Simon a weak smile, Jane breathed, “Thank you,
dearest. I was losing my strength.”

Dearest
? “Good gracious,” Star said, glancing at the
clock on her bedside table. “Jane, it’s three a.m. Could this not have waited
until later?” The last time she’d looked, it had read one-thirty. She’d fallen asleep
at last, after hours of tossing and turning, with neither a solution to the
problem of Romeo, nor reprieve from heartache.

“Oh, but it’s a matter of life and death!” Jane exclaimed,
reaching for Star’s hand. It was too far away for her to grasp, and Star
refused to move it. Encouraging Jane’s love of drama did not pay, and Simon,
Star thought with a scowl, ought to know better.

“You appear unharmed,” Star answered discouragingly, noting
that they were both fully dressed.

“Until Del hears of it!” Jane breathed. “Oh Star you
must
save me! Save
us
.”

Sighing wearily, Star rubbed her eyes. “He left for
Philadelphia this afternoon Jane. He could not possibly endanger you so very
much as to wake me at such an hour.”

“He’s only in New York. He’ll return today when he hears,
and I must escape before he arrives.” Tears formed in her eyes as a dramatic
shudder ran down Jane’s back.

Blast, now Simon was pulling over another chair. “Hears
what, Jane?”

“Why,” Jane said in a high, fluttery voice, “why—I am sorry
to tell you this, but about Simon and me. We’re in love.”

Judging by the expression upon her countenance, Jane
expected Star to swoon. Star only swooned when confronted by mutilated photos
and trunks full of ripped clothing.

Better not think of that now.

“And how would he learn that?”

“You already knew?” Jane asked dolefully.

“You’ve scarcely been discreet.”

“Why,” she said taking Simon’s hand, “it is difficult to be
discreet when there is so much strength of sentiment between two people. We
have fought it, you must know that, since we met last summer, but one cannot
win a battle against destiny.”

It required all of Star’s patience not to roll her eyes. “It
does not, however, answer my question. If you please, Jane, it’s past three am
and I’d like to sleep. Not that the affairs of your heart are not of
prime
importance to me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows, but Jane missed the sarcasm. “Oh,
and I know how much you love me, Star. I have always known it! That is why I
have come to you. We are,” she paused for dramatic effect, “eloping!”

Eloping? Oh good God, someone ought to throttle the woman.

“And we wish you to join us,” Jane added.

“You’re already married, Jane. You cannot marry Simon.”

“Not
all
the definitions of elopement mean to marry!
Although we shall eventually, once we persuade Del to sue for divorce. And
Star, my dear, dear sister of my heart,” Jane said as she slid onto Star’s bed
to take the hand Star had tried to withhold. She looked deeply—vexingly!—into
Star’s eyes. “We are depending upon you to accompany us and lend us
respectability with your kindness and good name.”

Respectability? Not even the Montgomery name could give them
that after elopement and divorce. This time, however, Star kept her thoughts to
herself, for the more she voiced them, the more Jane would defend their
actions, and the less sleep she would get. It really was entirely too bad that
murder was illegal. As Nicholas has once said, it’d be a mercy killing.

She would
not
think of Nicholas and the way he made
her laugh.

“And yet,” Star said, “I fail to understand either the rush
or the elopement. Wouldn’t it be more, um, respectable, and a great deal less
uncomfortable, to confront Del instead of eloping?”

“Oh no, for Del will try to kill Simon.”

Only if Star didn’t do it first.

“He would not succeed,” Simon interjected. “However, Jane
wishes not to besmirch her good name with the resulting scandal.”

As opposed to divorce.

Ignoring Simon, Star said, “I have known Del all of my life,
Jane. If you are sincere and lay the situation out to him calmly, you may
expect a rational response.” Most of the time, at any rate, even if, she
thought with a twist in her chest, it would break Del’s heart.

“But you never saw what he did to Alistair Pembroke.”

“Del hit Alistair. He didn’t murder him.”

“He knocked him to the ground, and that was only for
flirting!”

“Jane, he found you kissing Pembroke at his parents’ ball.”

“It was innocent—”

Star waved a hand. “Alistair is in the past. Let us focus
instead upon Simon, whom you love and are destined to marry.” She might as well
fill in all of Jane’s lines and get to the important part.

“Except that Lottie Carter sent a telegram to New York,
which he may be reading at this very moment and plotting revenge!”

“Del’s sister? Why would she do that?”

“She is here visiting with the Michael and Bernadette
Hathaway—”

“The Hathaways are here? No one told me.”

“They arrived just yesterday with Lottie and invited us for
dinner you see—”

“And not me?”

“You had the headache, if you recollect. We stayed after
most people had left, and well, you see, Lottie
saw
us.”

“Kissing Simon? Oh good gracious, Jane, when will you learn
discretion!”

“You don’t understand,” she wailed. “If you had a hea—”

“Jane, my love,” Simon interrupted. “Now is not the time for
recriminations.”

“You’re right.” Jane took a deep breath. “Anyway, it
was—well, it was more than kissing you see—and Lottie was shocked. And so we
must
flee for she’ll tell Del and he’ll challenge Simon to a duel!”

Star sighed. Lottie
would
tell Del. In fact, she’d
lord it over him, for there was as little love lost between Del and his sisters
as there was between Jane and hers. It was about the only thing the two had in
common. And when he heard the news, Del
would
come running.

“Regardless,” Star said, reasonably, “I doubt he’ll challenge
anyone to a duel. This isn’t the 18th century, Jane. I own, though, that it
might get ugly. Where do you plan on going?”

“To Chicago,” Simon said. “I have family there. You’ll
accompany us, then?”

She nodded and his eyes lit up. Odd, that. He professed to
love Jane, but she never saw any affection when he looked at her.

Some men, however, were adept at concealing emotion. Simon
had always been reserved, and had behaved with nothing but kindness when she’d
learned of Bella’s death. He generally displayed impeccable manners, this
evening’s business notwithstanding.

Other men pretended emotions, who evidently felt none. Like
Nicholas.

Chicago was a thousand miles away. A thousand miles from
Nicholas, a thousand miles from Romeo. Surely distance would ease the pain and
anxiety those two men dealt her daily. “Purchase the tickets first thing, and I
shall pack.”

Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors

Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Nick stared at one
half-packed trunk. Packing to come East had been exciting. Packing to go home
was tiresome. He sighed and glanced at Jim’s letter, on the bureau. Jim had
hired a girl to help Melinda until the new baby slept through the night. No big
deal, except that he’d never had to hire anybody for the other births. After
last year’s heavy freezes, they’d been storing food for the cattle, just in
case it was another bad year, creating more work than usual. Sure, they’d pared
back the herd at bedrock prices, but still. . . . While Nick gallivanted around
the East, Jim was working too much to devote much time to his family or new
baby son, like he ought to.

It was long past time pull up stakes.

Didn’t have anything to do with Star.

He’d leave in two days, maybe three. Today he’d wrap things
up with Gabe, and then tomorrow he’d visit with Ward, hand over the
investigation and say his farewells.

A sudden hammering on the door jolted Nick from his gloomy
meditations. “Nick, are you in there? We need to talk to you.” Lee’s voice,
unusually rough. He pounded on the door again.

“Hold your horses,” Nick said, crossing the room. He opened
it, letting in Lee, pale-faced and rumpled, and Huntington, his face harshly
lined, his hair mussed. He smelled of booze. It was only eleven a.m.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked closing the door.

As Huntington crossed to the bureau, where Nick kept port
and glasses for Star, Lee pushed a piece of paper in Nick’s hand. “It’s Star.
She’s vamoosed,” Lee said.

“Gone?” Nick asked, as he opened the paper.

“And Jane too,” Huntington added roughly. “With Price.”

“Simon Price?” Nick asked. Stupid question. How many Prices
did they know?

More stupid thoughts. What “they”? Nick wasn’t part of
“they.” He couldn’t understand them or how they casually gave away babies when
they had more than enough money and resources to raise them. For “them” life
was about convenience; for him it was about honor and duty. He didn’t know if
he would want to be part of them even if he could.

“Haven’t you had enough of that?” Lee snapped at Huntington
as he sank into a chair, a full glass of port in his hand.

“You ought to thank God for this. It’s the only thing
keeping my temper under control,” Huntington snarled back.

Nick sat on his bed, looking at the paper and immediately
recognizing Star’s handwriting. As he read he heard each word in Star’s ironic,
singsong voice, and the persistent ache in his chest turned to stabbing.

She’d left him. He’d made the tiniest attempt to hold onto
her and she’d fled. “When?” Nick asked, his heart heavy.

“The man at the depot said a train left at seven a.m. for Chicago.
Are you her ‘other reasons’ Nick?”

He rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d chased her away. But what
else could he have done?

He could’ve not argued about the baby.

He’d have lost her, anyhow. She didn’t love him. That was
the crux of the matter.

“Reckon I am. One of ’em, leastways.”

Lee shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nick,” he said gently. “I
did warn you.”

He shrugged.

“And the other reasons?” Huntington asked in a voice
slightly slurred from booze.

“Romeo,” Nick said as a knock sounded on the door.

“Who’s there?” Huntington and Lee yelled out in unison.

“It’s my private investigator,” Nick said, rising.

“Your what?” Lee asked, as Nick let Gabe in. He was a
dark-haired man, a couple inches taller than Nick, with a powerful build that
he concealed under a perfectly pressed black suit. He carried a thick envelope
under his arm.

“Hey Gabe,” Nick said, with a quick handshake. “Thanks for
coming.”

“Sure thing,” he said and handed Nick the envelope. He ran
his grey eyes over Lee and Del, no doubt gauging their usefulness. If they
measured up or not, Nick couldn’t tell. Gabe had one of the best poker faces
he’d ever seen.

“This is Lee Montgomery,” Nick said, nodding to Lee, “and
Del Huntington. Gentleman, this is Gabe Keller. He’s a former Pinkerton with
his own private detective outfit out of Philadelphia. I hired him to
investigate Romeo.”

“Philadelphia?” Lee asked warily.

“Yeah. Winchester suggested him.”

“Well . . . I suppose if Rick approved him,” Lee said,
coming forward to shake Keller’s hand.

Gabe took his hand. “Happy to meet you, Montgomery.”

Huntington eyed Gabe speculatively, as Nick sat on the bed
and opened the envelope. “Keller. I know that name. You married the Clifford
woman a few years back, didn’t you?”

Gabe nodded. “Catherine is both my wife and my business
partner.”

“Is that so?” Del said, rising to offer his hand. “I expect
Star would appreciate that. At any rate, ’tis bloody-well time that someone did
something.”

Nick frowned. He hadn’t expected Huntington to care.
’Specially since Huntington was Nick’s number one suspect.

Gabe took Del’s hand. A quick shake, after which for some
reason, Gabe frowned, suddenly appeared ill at ease. “A pleasure, Huntington.”
He turned to Nick. “I didn’t anticipate company, Nick. I can return at a better
time if you prefer.”