Anna Finch and the Hired Gun (11 page)

She was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Though he bore a striking resemblance to his older brother, Edwin Beck had taken the features that were pleasant on Daniel and wore them with a rakish air that made
handsome
an inadequate description.

“I must apologize for the unkempt manner in which I’ve been forced to greet you,” Edwin said, “but I fear I’m still suffering from the journey. Perhaps once I’ve rested I will be worthy of making your acquaintance.”

“Unkempt?” She studied him from head to toe then back up again. “I fail to see how any part of you could be improved whether by rest or any other such contrivance. Why, given the distance you’ve traveled, you’re certainly fit to be—”

Papa cleared his throat. “Forgive Anna. She does go on.”

“Yes, well,” Edwin said, “I confess I’m entranced by her. I could listen at length. Do continue.”

He punctuated the statement, spoken with the British accent his brother had all but lost, with a wink. She should have protested, but now that she’d stopped talking, she didn’t seem able to start again.

She looked at Gennie, who watched Edwin with an odd expression on her face. Daniel joined his wife, and a look passed between them that Anna couldn’t help but notice.

“Miss Finch?” Edwin said.

Anna braved another glance at his face. “Yes?”

“You’re not a stranger to my name, are you?”

An accusation for sure, though he seemed amused rather than angry. “Of course not,” she said, intending to be succinct and demure, but his expression appeared to ask for more and she found herself obliging. “Why, I practically called this place my second home until Gennie arrived, so you can imagine Daniel mentioned his family on occasion. Though I admit he did not prepare me for the fact you might be, well …” She clamped her mouth shut to stop the gush of words.

She looked around the room. Around them the party guests mingled while up in the ballroom the orchestra struck the first chords of a waltz. Anna studied her mother’s gloves and willed her heart to stop racing.

“Might be what?” Edwin prompted.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I’ve completely forgotten where I left off.” The truth, but only barely. Though the actual statement escaped her, the embarrassment still lingered.

“Then I shall help you.” Edwin leaned forward as if relating a secret. “You were about to tell me how your expectations of me were not only met but exceeded.”

“I was?” Had she said that? It was certainly possible. “Yes, well, I hope you’re not offended by the admiration, because I truly thought you’d be—well, that is, I didn’t expect you to be a man of such …”

Thankfully, her breath ran out just as Gennie tapped on her shoulder. “Anna, darling, might I borrow you a moment?”

Edwin chuckled. Was he laughing at her?

Gennie linked her arm with Anna’s and repeated her question. “Anna, could I see you, please?”

The Englishman’s amusement grew, and others turned to stare. Daniel made his way toward them.

“Edwin, the governor is asking to meet you,” Daniel said.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the realization of everything she’d just said to Daniel’s rogue brother, Anna slipped from Gennie’s grasp.

“Perhaps later?” she whispered. Then she took her humiliation and fled.

It had been a long time since Jeb had played the dandy. He resisted the urge to tug at his collar and focused on the plan for tonight. First order of business would be locating the subject, and then he would maintain visual while keeping watch on the surroundings.

No different than any other assignment. That the person in question was a pampered princess rather than a hardened criminal held no interest to him. It was a job.

Just a job.

And when he completed his mission, Jeb could set aside his Pinkerton badge and go home long enough to let the hole in his side and the weariness in his soul heal up.

One last check to secure the wrappings covering his bandage, and Jeb was ready to make his entrance. He decided against his usual routine of taking on an alias in favor of being himself. After all, if he didn’t remember Anna Finch, it was highly unlikely Miss Finch remembered him.

Squaring his shoulders, Jeb stepped out of the guestroom and into the hall leading to the second floor ballroom. Daniel spied him,
as did Governor Grant, and he soon found himself embroiled in a debate regarding the ongoing construction of the state capitol.

Halfway through his statement regarding his belief that the wrong people were in charge, Daniel tapped him on the shoulder and gestured to his left. “She’s coming our way.”

Jeb nodded. “Governor,” he said as he attempted to discern which of the well-dressed ladies was his quarry, “if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”

“Ever the Pinkerton, I see,” Governor Grant said.

“I’m afraid so.” He leaned toward Daniel. “Which one?”

“There.” Daniel made a small gesture toward the crowd. “Green lace with flounces.”

Jeb scanned the crowd, unfortunately populated with a multitude of females. “Flounces? What are those?”

Daniel pointed him toward a dark-haired woman moving quickly through the throng. Her chestnut curls sparkled with diamond combs, and her emerald dress was cinched tight and fitted to perfection. Surely he couldn’t be so lucky as to be paid to follow her.

“Stop joking around, Daniel. Just tell me which one’s Anna Finch.”

“Her,” Daniel insisted. “The one your fellow Pinkerton’s trailing after like a puppy.”

Sure enough, he saw Hank Thompson tagging two steps behind the gal in green. No wonder, Jeb decided. If he wasn’t supposed to remain discreet, he’d be following her too.

“There you go, buddy,” he said under his breath as Hank caught up with her and made contact. She whirled around and offered the former Pinkerton a smile, and Jeb saw her face.

“No,” he said as the breath went out of him. “It can’t be.”

He moved in for a closer look, ducking his head when she glanced his direction. With a sideways glance, he saw Thompson had her occupied.

He also saw he was right.

Anna Finch was the same woman who’d shot him yesterday, then nearly caused him to kiss her today. What she’d have him doing by midnight was anyone’s guess.

Pasting on a smile came naturally to one whose occupation for most of the last decade had been attending mindless social gatherings. Anna offered greetings to those she knew and those she didn’t as she worked her way toward the back door.

The amount of traffic at the front entrance made escape that way impossible, so she’d turned toward the broad expanse of doors flanking the back of the home. Behind the curtains—which were of substantial weight to hide a grown woman in a ball gown should she be required to disappear—was access to the back lawn. From there, it was a decent hike to the Finch home, across grounds that would likely ruin the gown her mother had shipped in from Paris.

She had a third option: the kitchen. She might have to endure the cross-examination of Tova and possibly Elias, but neither of them would fault her for fleeing.

Her plan resolved, Anna turned around and nearly slammed into Hank Thompson. The Pinkerton’s ears reddened as he tipped his hat.

“Forgive me,” he said.

Anna shook her head and looked past him. The kitchen was beyond the stairs, a decent distance from where she stood but an
expanse she could cross in a short amount of time if not otherwise hindered.

“I am sorry,” Mr. Thompson said again.

“Mr. Thompson, you must stop apologizing. It is neither required nor requested.” When he began to laugh, Anna felt her temper rising. “Am I so funny that men cannot help but be struck with uncontrollable mirth in my presence?”

“Oh, Miss Finch, I do love to listen to you speak, especially the way you put words together. A man like me, I’m—well, I’m just impressed, is all.”

“That I might be educated?” she demanded then wished she hadn’t. She sighed. “I’m afraid it is my turn to beg an apology. You see, the evening has begun on a rather sour note and …” No, she’d not share her humiliation. “That is, I am in need of good humor. Perhaps you could cheer me up. Tell me about yourself, Mr. Thompson. Have you always been involved in the world of law enforcement?”

That would work. She often tossed the conversational ball back into the gentleman’s court, with great success. On this subject, Mother was right: all men love to talk about themselves.

Hank Thompson was no exception. He launched into a story about train robbers, and Anna stared determinedly at the clock on the wall behind his head so she wouldn’t look for Edwin Beck. She didn’t want to encourage him to resume their previous conversation. Not that she was averse to a second attempt at making a good impression on Daniel’s brother. He was, after all, practically family.

And practically perfect, at least from a visual standpoint.

Anna glanced across the room and found him. When he caught
her watching and smiled, she hurriedly returned her attention to the clock.

“You’ve not said a word, Miss Finch,” Mr. Thompson said.

Anna shook her head, but before she could say anything, her mother appeared next to Mr. Thompson.

“Mr. Thompson, might I borrow Anna?” her mother said.

Anna just caught a glimpse of Mr. Thompson’s befuddled face as Mother whirled her around and marched her back toward the party.

“He’s a nice man but not our sort. At least not yet,” Mother amended. “Now that Mr. Beck, Daniel’s brother? He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”

“Is he?”

“Well, of course he is.” Mother waved at the man in question, who obliged by starting in their direction.

Thankfully Anna spied Charlotte standing alone at the top of the stairs. “Please excuse me, Mother,” she said, “but I promised Charlotte I would introduce her around, and she’s just now made her appearance.” She slipped free of her mother’s grasp, ignoring her protests, and moved toward the staircase.

Charlotte was truly on her way to becoming a woman, whether Daniel would admit it or not. Her curls had been tamed and properly styled so that few would recognize her as the impudent child she once was. In profile, Charlotte was very much a Beck, though her late mother—Daniel’s first wife—must have played some part in her slender build and the tilt to her chin. The tapping toes, however, were purely the influence of Gennie Cooper Beck, as was the lilac ball
gown that fit her so well, a last-minute substitute for the more childish dress Daniel originally deemed appropriate for this event.

Anna met Charlotte halfway up the broad carpeted steps on a landing that provided views of both the ballroom and the reception area. The orchestra played an up-tempo tune that had Charlotte almost bouncing in place by the time Anna reached her.

When they embraced, Daniel’s daughter whispered, “What do you think of Uncle Edwin?”

Anna broke off the hug to hold Charlotte at arm’s length. “Not you too.” At the almost sixteen-year-old’s perplexed look, Anna hurried to explain. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it appears I’m to be married off soon, and my mother thinks your uncle should be on the ever-growing list of potential grooms.”

The girl sighed. “It all sounds very exciting.”

“Not really.”

Charlotte’s green eyes widened. “Oh, Anna, I so look forward to the time when I can discuss suitors with Papa.” Her gaze swept the room below, then lifted to take in the ballroom above. “He’s so difficult.”

“Your father?” Anna found Daniel in the crowd. While he carried on a discussion with Governor Grant and the mayor, part of his attention was obviously focused on his two ladies, Gennie and Charlotte. “He only wants the best for you.”

“As does yours,” Charlotte said as she grasped Anna by the elbow. “Now, let’s listen to the orchestra.”

“Listen?” Anna tried to keep Charlotte to a sedate pace as they ascended the stairs. “I saw you tapping your toes. I wager dancing’s what you want to do.”

Charlotte skidded to a halt at the edge of the ballroom. “Not tonight,” she said as she craned her neck to peer around the room. “I promised Papa I wouldn’t. It’s the only way he would allow me to attend. Oh look, the Millers are here. I wonder if my friend Augusta was allowed to accompany them.” Her curls bounced as she slipped in front of Anna for a better view of the room. “Yes, there she is. Oh, I’m so glad her father changed his mind. Isn’t that a daisy?”

“A daisy? Yes, of course.”

The ballroom was populated with the usual collection of party-goers, chatting in groups or twirling around the dance floor. As Anna surveyed the crowd for someone she knew, she spied one man lingering in the shadows. He was tall but not overly so, with the look of an observer rather than a participant. The cut of his suit coat was stylish, the expression on his face one of watchful boredom. He seemed, however, to be looking right at her.

“Forgive me for abandoning you?”

Anna looked down at Charlotte, who gave her a pleading look.

“Go,” Anna said smiling, “and enjoy your evening.”

Charlotte giggled. “And you enjoy Uncle Edwin.”

As the girl skipped off, Anna looked for the man in the shadows only to find he’d disappeared.