Verity and the Villain Page 22

  Fear.

  She knew she wasn’t completely devoid of the attribute. She had the strength of character to protect herself from Steele. She’d stolen his passage fare and sailed halfway around the world disguised as a boy. She’d sought out her aunt and created a new life and a promising business in a new place. This had all taken courage, and yet, when faced with Mr. Steele a second time, why had her first instinct been to hide? And when she could no longer hide, she’d run.

  Why?

  In fact, why had she run that very night in New York? Surely, there would have been someone who would have helped her? Her parents’ friends, her pastor, or her landlord. Now that she thought about it, there were countless people who would have gladly stepped up to her defense.

  As if on automation, Verity went to the wardrobe and pulled out her father’s clothes. She knew if she thought too hard, gave it too much consideration, she’d give way to her fears and try to hide or run, again, and although she never did anything without a plan, sometimes, she thought as she pulled on the pants, plans need to be developed along the way.

  It occurred to her then that she’d changed more than geographical locations. Her world had changed and she’d changed with it. She didn’t need to run. She didn’t need to hide; she could take on Steele and win.

  But not alone.

  Moments later, Verity hurried through the dark streets, her hair caught up in her father’s soft wool hat, her legs free in the pants. Rats skittered beneath the boardwalk. It’d been unusually dry and the streets, typically soaked with muck, had turned into small hills and valleys of dried mud. Still, she swung the umbrella at her side. The moon shone brightly and glinted off the windows of the dark homes that lined Lily Hill. It’d been six months since she’d escaped through the tall rows of apartments and shops in Elm Street, six months since she’d left New York. She didn’t know what she’d do if she found Steele and Minnie. Yet.

  Only this time she wouldn’t be alone. Trent and Miles, adversaries only minutes ago, were now allies, united in finding Minnie and defeating Steele. Verity didn’t know how she could help, but she would try.

  She heard the scurry of night animals, a barking dog, and the drone of insects. Moon and starlight sparkled on the dew lining the boardwalk and clinging to the tall grass that shot up through the cracks between the buildings. A gentle breeze caused the shadows to shift and Verity, confident in her ability to walk through the night, didn’t see the dark cloaked figure lurking behind a closed newspaper stand.

  CHAPTER 20

  Chinese Fortune Cookies

  In a small mixing bowl, stir together flour, sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Add oil and egg white; stir until smooth. Add water and mix well. Pour about a tablespoon of batter onto a lightly greased skillet. Flip cookie and cook for one minute more. Put a riddle strip in the center. Fold cookie.

  From The Recipes of Verity Faye

  He hadn’t been looking forward to scaling the trellis a second time. Some things should only happen once or twice in a lifetime and trellis climbing was one of those things. He hadn’t minded so much the first time, after all, he’d felt himself two steps closer to Gracey and, if he admitted it, a couple of leaps toward impressing Verity Faye, but in the intervening weeks, he still hadn’t a clue as to Gracey’s whereabouts, and he felt he’d secured Verity’s hand, so trellis climbing seemed unreasonable. Unless, of course, you were worried about your sister.

  Beside him, Trent felt Miles’ burning hostility mixed with concern. The man exuded pent up emotion. If someone were to light a match in their general vicinity, Trent was sure Miles would explode. Perhaps he would anyway. Spontaneous combustion.

  Trent understood the feeling. He didn’t know how rational he would be if someone had kidnapped Chloe. He remembered the overwhelming panic he’d felt just a few hours ago when he couldn’t find Verity.

  Above them, the dark windows of Steele’s room didn’t show any signs of life. Every window looked as blank and empty as the next. “Come on,” he said, nudging Miles and heading toward the trellis, but just then they saw a dark coach roll from behind the hotel.

  Miles started. “Do you think?”

  Trent shrugged. “It could be.”

  “Maybe one of us should follow it, just in case.”

  Trent took a deep breath and nodded. As long as the coach rolled through the city streets, Miles had a shot of looking in the windows and discovering Minnie. Trent looked at the trellis and knew he had other windows to scale.

  #

  Verity felt rather than saw, someone watching her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, the skin-tingling sensation of being watched prickled along her neck. And yet, she didn’t stop. She picked up her pace and began counting her steps. One step for courage, two steps for valor, three steps for bravery, four steps for….

  She rounded a corner and ducked into a dark doorway. Holding her breath, she pressed her back against the black wall, willing herself invisibility. The noiseless footsteps came her way. She twirled the umbrella in her hand, waiting.

  Her breath escaped with a soft whoosh when she recognized the cloaked figure. “Young Lee,” she gasped. “What are you doing?”

  Young Lee halted beneath a street light and put his hands on his hips and lowered his eyebrows at her. “What I doing? No. That is not the question. It safe for me to be out in the dark. It no safe for you. So, the question is, what you doing?”

  Verity swallowed. “I’m going to see a friend.”

  Young Lee pointed his finger at her. “You have too many friends. I not like your friends.”

  Verity remembered Trent swinging at Young Lee and smiled. “I can appreciate that, I really do, but—”

  “No buts! You going home to Miss Tilly. I taking you home.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Young Lee folded his arms. “Then where we’s going?”

  “We’s, I mean, we’re not going anywhere. I’m going to a friend’s and you are going home.”

  He jerked his thumb at his chest. “I no going alone.” And jabbed a finger in her face. “You no going alone.”

  Verity bit her lip, considering, and then had an idea. “Come along, then.”

  After visiting the dark Grand Hotel and not finding Miles and Trent, Verity and Young Lee climbed the hill to Trent’s house. The lights were on, so she approached the front porch. Nerves fluttered in her belly. Would he turn her away? He might balk at her assistance, but he couldn’t refuse her plan. It was too good. Much better than chocolates laced with a sedative. Still, she felt jumpy when they reached the door.

  Young Lee stood beside her, scowling. He liked everything about her plan except for her involvement, but she’d told him that if he tried to tell and needlessly concern her aunt, Verity wouldn’t tell him where to use the explosives. She cast him another look.

  Young Lee folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his lower lip. “I no leave until I know you not alone.”

  She sighed. They’d been over this. “I’m perfectly safe.”

  “You stay with Mr. Trent until I return.”

  “Of course,” Verity murmured, not even knowing whether Trent was at home or where he’d be if he wasn’t. Although the burning lamps were promising.

  Mugs creaked open the door. He stood in the half-light with a bemused look on his face, an expression that said I don’t know what you’re doing here in men’s clothing, but it promises to be great fun.

  Verity cleared her throat. “Good evening, Mugs.”

  Footsteps clattered down the stairs and Chloe appeared in her dressing gown. “Verity, goodness, whatever are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m surprised to see you, too.”

  Chloe’s eyes glittered in amusement. “You didn’t think Gram would let Trent return to the city without a chaperone, did you? I’m to be her spy.” She laughed. “I don’t know why you’re at my brother’s house at midnight dressed like a farmhand but, please come in.”

  “Than
k you.” Verity turned to Young Lee. “I’ll wait here for you, I promise.”

  Young Lee gave her a slant-eyed stare, before disappearing with a swirl of his cloak.

  Chloe reached and took Verity by the hand to draw her into the sitting room. “Oh, you’re freezing. Come and sit by the fire and tell me all about your romance with my brother. I’ve been dying to speak to you alone.” She shot Mugs a glance. “Goodnight, Mugs.”

  He looked reluctant to leave, but after it became apparent that neither of the women would speak until he did so, he turned on his heels, but Verity suspected he didn’t go very far.

  Without sparing or whitewashing on details, Verity filled Chloe in on her past with Steele.

  “Goodness,” Chloe gasped. “And to think my grandmother entertained that villain in her home!”

  “It gets worse,” Verity said before launching into Minnie’s elopement.

  Chloe’s eyes grew round when Verity shared her plan. She spoke loudly and distinctly, hoping Mugs would overhear and volunteer to help.

  #

  Verity and Chloe raided Trent’s room. A room says so much about a person, Verity thought. The books beside his bed, the drawings of horses on the walls. She knew she needed to focus, but she couldn’t help thinking, Trent sleeps here, and noticing the familiar scents of leather and cologne. Where had he gone? Was he confronting Steele at this moment? Had they found Minnie?

  Chloe searched the wardrobe, tossing out pants and shirts. “He’s really massively large. I’m so grateful you like him otherwise I might have him eating at my dinner table forever.”

  Verity knew she needed to dispel Chloe’s hopes. She determined she wouldn’t marry Trent for the sake of convention. So very few people knew she’d been found in a state of dishabille with him in the cottage. She wouldn’t hold him to a false engagement.

  If he didn’t want to be held. She loved being held by him. In truth, she loved him. The thought of him confronting Steele made her ill and it was those thoughts that pushed her into action. Once she’d executed her plan, then she and Trent could discuss their bogus engagement. If they were successful. Of course, they’d be successful. Any other thought was too horrible to entertain.

  How would Trent feel about her involving his little sister? Verity felt a tug of misgiving, rubbed the bruise on her forehead, and sat down on the bed. “Maybe you should stay here.”

  Chloe didn’t budge from the wardrobe. “Are you insane? This is the best acting gig a girl could ever ask for.” She held up a white shirt and then pressed it against her chest. “I’m just not sure about the costume.”

  Disguising Chloe’s curves would be a challenge. Her short, curvy figure took to breeches, even large ones, about as well as oil took to water. Chloe was round where Trent was narrow. Her hips, suited for childbearing, refused to hide. Even with a long jacket, the hips protruded when she moved.

  “Hold still,” Verity said, trying to tuck towels around Chloe’s waist. She hoped the towels binding Chloe’s breasts and thickening her waist would create the appearance of a barrel-chested man in an over-sized coat.

  Chloe frowned and shrugged off the coat. “I feel ridiculous.”

  Verity stopped, considered, and returned to the wardrobe.

  Seconds later, Chloe looked like a short round man in a cloak and wool hat. Verity fashioned a scarf about her neck. “Just keep your chin down and your hands in your cloak.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “It has to.”

  #

  Mugs had insisted they take the wagon. “More room for more girls,” he’d said and his face, which generally had the countenance of a mortician, seemed to glow. Even now, as they bounced over the rutted and bumpy streets, the three of them sharing the bench of the rattling wagon, Mugs wore an almost happy expression. They stopped outside the door of 9 Sea Point.

  “What if no one’s willing to help?” Chloe asked.

  “They will,” Verity assured her, giving Chloe’s hand a squeeze.

  A candle flickered in the window and a face appeared. Verity waved.

  #

  The horse nickered and shook his mane and the harness tinkled, a small sound blending in with the night noises, barely audible above the music streaming through the brothel’s windows. Mugs pulled the wagon beneath a thicket of alders. The moonlight streamed through the dark leaves and Verity prayed they were sheltered from sight. Verity swung out of the wagon and then held out her hand to help Chloe, box-like and awkward in her brother’s cloak. Chloe nudged her and pointed toward the stables.

  In a thicket of alders stood Trent’s Sysonby. Verity knew Trent was here on a rescue mission, but what if he had another purpose or had grown distracted? Her heart twisted. She really didn’t know him. She didn’t even know if she trusted him…but of course she did. She had to.

  “He won’t be happy I brought you here,” Verity said, pulling her hat so it sat lower on her head and covered more of her face.

  Chloe chuckled. “I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see you here either. Although,” she said with glistening eyes, “it is a very good plan.”

  Cassie, dressed in a light cotton frock, nodded as she clambered out of the wagon. A number of Georgina’s girls had wanted to accompany Verity, but only one could come and in the end, Cassie, the most strong-willed had won the argument. “It’s brilliant. The girls would be stupid not to join us.”

  “Do you think the wagon’s big enough?” Verity said, watching Young Lee gather the rockets beneath his cloak.

  Chloe watched the brothel. The windows were all drawn, but silhouettes and shadows occasionally moved across the shades like fleeting bits of pantomimes. “We have no idea how many of the girls will actually want to leave.”

  “At least ten, I think,” Cassie assured her.

  Verity said, “Well, we know there are no more than twenty girls. If half want to escape—”

  “You can ride home with Trent and I can ride with Miles,” Chloe finished.

  Verity shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to think about facing Trent. This was supposedly the eve of her wedding day, and she was going to spend it at a brothel. For a quick moment, she thought of all the traditional bridal preparations she’d be missing: shopping for the trousseau, the wedding gown, choosing a cake, flowers. She straightened her hat and took a deep breath. She thought about the girls in the brothel and reminded herself she wasn’t the only one whose plans had gone awry. “Are you ready?”

  Chloe grabbed one hand and Verity reached out for Young Lee with the other. Chloe caught Mugs’ and he took Cassie’s with his other hand so that they formed a chain. Verity squeezed Chloe’s hand. “I’ll sneak into the girl’s dormitory.”

  Chloe squeezed Young Lee’s hand. “I’ll wait in the basement and lead the girls to Mugs, Cassie, and the waiting wagon.”

  Verity nodded. “And Young Lee will work his magic.”

  Cassie frowned and jutted out her chin. “I still think I should go with you.”

  “No,” Verity said. “You’ll be recognized and raise suspicion.”

  Cassie snorted. “And you, dressed as a yokel, won’t?”

  Verity paused. Cassie had a good point. She didn’t fit the profile of the Lucky Island patron. She looked blankly at the brothel. They were so close. They had to be successful.

  “Look,” Cassie pointed to a dark window. “The north room is empty.”

  “But what if it’s not?” Chloe asked, her voice breaking midsentence. “What if someone prefers the dark?”

  Cassie shook her head. “That’s the room least likely used because—well, just believe me, that’s the one least used. Inside, there’s a wardrobe where you can find an assortment of…clothes.”

  Verity narrowed her eyes. “What kind of clothes?”

  Cassie took the hat off Verity’s head and ran her fingers through Verity’s hair, brushing it out. “Clothes that will help you fit in.”

  Verity grabbed the hat and shoved it back o
n her head. “And how do I get into that room?” She tucked her hair back into the hat.

  Cassie nodded at a large maple tree. “I used to dream of climbing that tree and escaping. I never dreamed I’d be climbing it to get back in.”

  “You’re not,” Mug, Chloe and Verity all said at the same time.

  Cassie scowled. “Remember, the guests are supposed to leave by three in the morning. Do you remember where Roxanne’s bed is?”

  “Third door on the third floor.” Verity nodded. Roxanne was her contact. Cassie knew that Roxanne wanted to escape.

  “Good. Let Roxy talk to the other girls. They trust her.”

  “What if we wait in the basement and no one shows?” Chloe asked.

  “Kaboom!” Young Lee smiled.

  BETTE

  Rose Arbor, Washington

  The sea of cars depresses me. Shiny, hot, glistening in the sun, the chrome and mirrors sparkle. Row after row of cars. Balloons. Flags. Even a hotdog stand. It’s like a circus. And I am the clown.

  Armed only with the printed out pages from Kelly Blue Book, Consumer Reports and the advertisement section of the Seattle Times, I face my dragons. A group of men in sport-coats loiter near the entrance of the glass and steel showroom. Salesmen. The enemy.

  It won’t be a fair fight. Car salesmen sell hundreds of cars a year. I have never bought a car. They’ve had training. Manuals. Practiced sales pitches. They’d probably taken classes and workshops on selling to susceptible widows. If they want to sell me a go-cart they’ll probably succeed. But they wouldn’t want to sell me a go-cart. No, they’d want me to buy a giant Mercedes like Errol Michaels’.