Flora's Wish (45 page)

“Is that something you learned at that fancy ladies school?”

She turned back to the rail. “I assure you that very little of what I learned at Dillingham Ladies Preparatory School has been of any use to me since I met you.” She laughed. “I think my gentle education has been more of a hindrance, actually.”

A round of applause indicated the music had ended. Flora looked at him again, and her breath caught as she noticed the angles of his face silhouetted in the moonlight. The cut of his coat and the turned up corners of his smile.

Though the entire image formed an unimaginably handsome whole, the true beauty of this man was in his tenacious search for justice. Whoever this Mary-Margaret person was, his quest was on her behalf. And right or wrong, the loyalty he felt to her was what led him to seek answers in the person of Will Tucker.

It was a revelation. Flora felt as if she were seeing Lucas McMinn for the first time.

Once again the strains of a violin drifted toward her. “Beau Soir,” she whispered.

“By special request,” Lucas said as he reached out toward her. “May I have this dance?”

Flora smiled. “I would be delighted.”

Lucas swept her into his arms, her feet barely touching the ground as they danced. This time it was she who began to sing, and only after the first verse did he join her. They circled around the balcony with the stars for a canopy until the song ended.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said though he made no move to step away.

“Your French is flawless.”

“
Merci.”

She met his eyes and then moved out of his arms to twirl as the next song began. “It makes me wonder whether you learned the language at home or took instruction elsewhere.”

He lifted a brow as he stood in place. Apparently, he was finished dancing even if she was not. “Flora,” he said softly, “please leave the detective work to me.”

Coming up to him and offering her most petulant face, the one that almost always worked on her father, Flora decided to try another attempt at prying information from the secretive lawman. “But I know nothing about you, Lucas. After all we've been through together, can't you tell me anything more than the meager details you've shared?”

Lucas leaned closer, his lips almost grazing her ear. “Flora?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“The answer is no.”

She feigned irritation. “That's not fair, Lucas. Just tell me one more thing about you.”

“One thing?” He shrugged. “For some unknown reason, I like dancing with you.” With this declaration, he drew her close and once again set her in motion to the sound of the orchestra. It was a waltz, though a slow one, and conversation soon became impossible because she was completely mesmerized by the feeling of being held in his arms.

But when the music ended, she found her voice. “Who are you, Lucas McMinn? Really?”

His chuckle was soft, his expression softer. Slowly he slid her a look. “All right, Flora. I suppose you've earned a little trust.” He angled closer. “I went to Natchez Under-the-Hill last night to meet with my best friend Kyle. He's a Pinkerton agent too. We joined up together, and until he was assigned to the Denver division and I to the Chicago office, we hadn't been apart much since we were little boys growing up in New Orleans. And he's not only a fellow Pinkerton, but he's also my collaborator on many of the inventions you've seen me use. There. Now you know a little something about me.”

Lucas gave her a satisfied look and once again was about to set her in motion. This time she dug in her heels and stalled his dancing.

“That's it?” She shook her head. “Your best friend, Kyle, is an inventor and a Pinkerton agent?”

He shrugged. “Yes, that's it. However, you may meet him in New Orleans. Maybe you can get more out of him than you can out of me, though I doubt it.”

She moved away from him to lean against the rail. “You're not working on this case alone?”

“Not anymore,” he said as he came to stand beside her. “Kyle has information that says your Mr. Tucker booked passage to New Orleans. When you showed me the note, I was only half surprised.”

“Why half?”

“Because you only showed me half the note, Flora.”

She jerked her attention up at him. How had he known this?

His green eyes narrowed. “Where are you meeting him?”

“Who is Mary-Margaret?”

He stepped back as if she'd pushed him. And maybe in a way she had.

“One question has nothing to do with the other,” he said through a clenched jaw.

“Not true.” Flora reached to close the distance between them and then placed her hand atop his. “I need to know if I can trust you, Lucas. You say I've earned a little trust. Show me by answering my question.”

He let out a long breath. “She was someone I loved.”

“I see.”

Disappointment obviously colored her words, for Lucas shook his head. “Not in the way you think. She was family.”

Family. Her heart sank even as a tiny part of her felt relief at knowing she was not standing in the shadow of some used-to-be love. “Was?”

“Yes, and as you may have guessed, she is the reason I began this quest to find Tucker.” He paused. “She is not the reason I continue it, however.”

“And what is that?”

“You, Flora. Even though you're obviously in this for what you will gain from your grandfather's will, you don't deserve what Tucker will do to you.”

She squeezed his hand. “How sentimental.”

“There's no room for sentiment in a Pinkerton's life,” he said slowly as if his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Liar.”

“What did you say?”

She grinned. “Oh, come now. You make your life sound so…” Flora searched for just the right word. “Dire. Yes, that's it. You sound so dire.”

“Dire?” He shook his head. “I don't know about that. What I do know is when a Pinkerton is on the job, there should be no distraction to interfere. Sentiment can be dangerous. It can get me killed.”

He thought of the information Kyle had forwarded to him this afternoon on Winthrop Brimm and his mounting debts. Any of the men to whom Brimm owed money might decide Flora posed too great a threat should she be allowed to marry.

“Lucas?”

He softened his expression. “And right now it could get you killed too.”

“Oh, please. There is nothing dangerous in this investigation. At the worst you will capture a man who has been doing some bad things, though none of them worth killing someone over.” Flora paused as an awful thought occurred. “Oh, no. You don't think he killed her, do you? Your Mary-Margaret? She's dead, isn't she.”

“She is.”

“Is Mr. Tucker suspected of her murder?”

A muscle in his jaw clenched. “No,” he said slowly, “he is not.”

“There, you see?” She shrugged. “I'm very sorry for your loss, but once you talk to him and he shows you his credentials, everything will be just fine.”

“What credentials?” he asked, suddenly alert.

Flora pressed her lips shut. She'd said too much. What was it about the moonlight and the nearness of Lucas McMinn that had her wanting to talk without thinking first?

“Flora,” he said, his voice deep and very serious. “If you know something that is pertinent to this investigation and you don't tell me, be it the particulars of your upcoming appointment or the details of Tucker's credentials, you're going to be considered just as guilty as he is.”

“In this country a person is considered innocent until proven guilty, Lucas McMinn, and you know that is the truth. As for those other things?” She paused to swipe at an errant curl loosened by the evening breeze. “You're just going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you?”

She looked up into his beautiful green eyes and smiled. “I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating because you tend to forget. You and I are on the same side. We both want Mr. Tucker caught. And since I simply cannot marry a man with any sort of cloud of suspicion hanging over him—or us—I also want all the facts out so the matter can be handled with the utmost expediency.”

“Then tell me what you know and be done with it—”

“I made a promise, Lucas. And even though I've come to care deeply for you, I have not yet found a reason to break that promise. You're just going to have to wait.”

There was something new in his eyes as his hand closed over hers. “Flora Brimm, did you just admit that you care for me?”

She had. Heat climbed into her cheeks as she searched for a way to undo the damage she'd just done. For nothing good could come of admitting her growing feelings for this man.

Nothing at all.

“Well…of course, I do,” she said as casually as she could manage. “You and I are on the same side of this endeavor. Why wouldn't I wish the best for you?'

“That's not what you said, Flora.” His voice was low and gentle, his hand suddenly warm atop hers.

Strains of a violin solo drifted past. Grandmama's favorite. She would have Father out on the dance floor for her lone dance of the evening. And then she would plead her usual headache and retire, leaving the “young ones” to their merriment.

Life certainly went on as usual at Brimmfield, even when everything else in her life seemed doomed to tumble forth and change.

“Flora?” Lucas urged her attention to return to him by gently lifting her chin. “You said you care deeply for me. Did you mean it?”

She gazed into his eyes and found she couldn't look away. “You know, Lucas, I did learn one thing at school. A lady is never the first to speak of such things.”

The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she said as she leaned slightly forward. “My deportment teacher was adamant.”

His arm went around her waist, his palm pressing against her spine, drawing her close. “Adamant? Sounds like any sort of violation of that rule might cause a real problem.”

“Problem,” she echoed as she lifted up onto her toes. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Yes,” he said softly, his lips nearly touching hers. “Absolutely.”

And then he kissed her.

“Flora,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “I don't know how you've done it, but you have me roped up and moonstruck.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“A very good thing, though I don't think we ought to advertise that fact.”

“No?” she said softly.

“No.” He kissed her again.

And then came the applause.

Flora turned around to see that all of Natchez society, including her father, had come to stand by the open ballroom doors during their kiss. Apparently Grandmama had already pleaded her headache and left, or she likely would be up front offering her opinion.

“Bravo,” someone called.

“Bravo, indeed,” another shouted.

Lucas immediately did what he did best. He took charge.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse us, I believe my intended and I are going to enjoy a walk in the moonlight.”

They descended the stairs that led down to the garden hand in hand and walked away to the fading sound of more applause and the rising notes of a brisk tune. At the edge of the garden, he paused and took her in his arms again. “About what happened back there…”

She looked up, hoping to see love, devotion, or at least the need to kiss her again. Instead, his handsome features gave no indication of his feelings, though his embrace told her otherwise.

“We should go back inside. I don't want your father coming after me with the pruning shears.”

“I think my father's going to allow us our walk. It's what would be expected of the father of the bride-to-be, and my father always does what is expected.”

“I see.” He reluctantly released her but then took her hand again in his warm clasp. “Then that means we have some time to discuss this investigation a little more. If you don't trust me now that I've admitted I'm falling for you faster than a buggy down an icy road, I don't know what will.”

“True, though it might help if you kissed me again.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Flora, you are incorrigible.”

Flora's grip on his hand tightened. “Come with me, Lucas. I want you to meet someone.”

“You're trying to divert my attention,” he said. “Trust me with the rest of the information Tucker sent you.”

“All right. Mr. Tucker has set a meeting place for Friday.”

“What time and where?”

She shook her head and dropped his hand. “I've told you enough for now,” she said as she moved down the gravel path that led through the garden.