An Agent for Liana Page 2

  She straightened. “Twenty-four years.”

  “Any illnesses or limitations the agency should know about?”

  “None…unless you count an affection for the latest fashions.” She giggled, hoping to elicit a similar response. Seeing his expression remain tight, she stilled, her stomach lurching. Had she just revealed a detail that disqualified her for the position?

  He braced his forearms on the desk. “You’re aware you receive a small stipend, a regulated wardrobe, and will train with an experienced agent who handles the travel and accommodation arrangements?”

  “Oui, messieur.” She needed to just answer his questions so she didn’t blurt out any other revealing facts.

  “I’m sure you’ve also learned what has proven to be the most provocative detail.” He sucked in a long breath. “But I must inform you of the two factors that have caused several women to bolt from this office and never be seen again.”

  His tone was so serious, but she could not wait to hear the part of the job that first drew her to being a Pinkerton agent. Careful to curb her exuberance, she nodded.

  “You must marry before leaving on your first assignment. Is that condition a problem?”

  “No.” A shiver wiggled through her insides. Who would object to a marriage of convenience to a man who would lead her into an adventure and be sworn to protect her?

  “You don’t earn your detective’s badge until the end of a successful assignment.” He ran a hand over his beard. “At which time, either of you can have the marriage annulled.”

  Excitement forced Liana to her feet, and she stuck out her right hand. “I accept all these conditions, and I cannot wait to meet, er, be assigned a job where I can put my skills to the best possible use.”

  “Your enthusiasm is another of your attributes, Miss La Fontaine.” Leaning heavily on a cane, Mister Gordon stood and accepted the handshake. “I’m waiting on an agent to return from assignment before I make a final decision. But you’ll hear from me soon.” He smiled then gestured toward the door. “Please, send in your sister.”

  “Thank you, Mister Gordon.” She gave a shallow curtsey then crossed the floor toward the door. “You will not be sorry—”

  The door crashed open, banging against the wall.

  A tall, scruffy-looking man strode into the office.

  Without missing a step, he cupped his hands around her upper arms and bodily moved her to the side. Paper rustled near her ear. She stiffened against his hold. Blinking fast, Liana sucked in a breath. He lifted her like she weighed almost nothing. Her pulse raced.

  “Gordon, what in blue blazes do you mean by this note?” He shook a crumpled piece of paper in the air.

  Liana could not tear away her gaze from the bearded stranger. The impact of his strong hands remained. The contact was brief, but heat radiated up and down her arms from his commanding touch. Her breath caught in her throat. On the street, never would she look twice at a man dressed in the rough clothes of a laborer. But something about this man drew her attention.

  He tore a broad-brimmed hat from his head and tossed it into the vacant chair. Then he jammed both hands on his hips. “Well?” In the next second, he leaned forward to brace hands on the desktop.

  From her position looking at his back, she noticed how his broad shoulders strained the denim of his shirt. Such power. Such magnetism. The supple cloth clung to a tapered waist that—

  The wooden chair creaked. “Miss La Fontaine, did you have a question?” Mister Gordon angled sideways to look around the man’s wide body.

  The stranger glanced over his shoulder, his narrowed gaze running from the top of her head to her hems. A dark eyebrow arched.

  Caught staring, she jumped and covered her gasp with a lace-gloved hand. “Non, messieur. Je m’en vais.” She dashed through the open door and across the hallway toward the library.

  A deep-throated laugh followed her.

  Covering her face with shaking hands, she slumped against the foyer wall. Messieur Gordon had no idea what she just said. If that was her first test as a Pinkerton agent, she failed.

  Chapter 2

  Dale Claybourne heard the agitated swish of fancy skirts as the wide-eyed brunette hurried from Gordon’s office. If she was the boss’s idea of a prospective agent, the Scotsman was so very wrong. A laugh rose from his gut, and he let it rumble loose. During the past month’s job, he’d experienced little that amused him, and the release felt good.

  “Close the door, Dale. Then have a seat, and I’ll answer your questions.” Frowning, Archie shook his head. “Or will you hit me with another set of demands like last time?”

  Dale stomped back to the door, detecting a hint of jasmine in the air. Must belong to the pretty brunette who’d just run away. With a hand on the doorknob, he stepped into the opening and spotted the woman in the navy dress slumped against the opposite wall. Both hands covered her face, but he recognized defeat in her stance. Had he caused that response? Emotions warred in his chest. Should he go to her and apologize? As he knew all too well, words of consolation from acquaintances didn’t help, and those from a total stranger would be meaningless.

  Instead, he eased the door closed so she wouldn’t know her moment of personal distress was observed. Then he turned, grateful for this chance to clear the air. As soon as he met his boss’s green gaze, he squared his shoulders and approached the desk. The reason for his visit rose uppermost in his thoughts. “You’re ordering me to take on a partner? One I’m expected to train?” He crossed both arms over his chest and gave his boss his best dark stare.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He lifted his hands with palms upright then dropped them to the desk. “Contrary to what some people might believe, I am in charge of this Pinkerton office.”

  Dale scrutinized Gordon’s tense expression. The man looked paler and thinner since their last meeting. Didn’t their long-standing, working relationship hold any sway in this matter? After twenty years as an agent, Archie was too practiced to give away the irritation he must be feeling. Dale had heard plenty of bellyaching from fellow agents over the past year about this new policy. “Because you have the details about my history.”

  “That happened three years ago, Dale. And Jamie’s death wasn’t your fault.” He shrugged. “You have to move on.”

  The consoling tone in Gordon’s voice made his throat ache. But sympathy wasn’t what he deserved. He scooped up his hat and dropped his exhausted body into the chair. No one had convinced him he couldn’t have saved Jamie if Dale’d paid closer attention to the recruit’s cocky attitude. “But I work alone.”

  “Correction, you used to work alone. Until now.” Archie leaned forward, setting his elbows atop a stack of reports. “Dale, you’re a great agent. Your record of solved cases stands as proof of your abilities.”

  Was that success a possible out? “I appreciate that you noticed. Which provides another reason to let me work by myself. I can maneuver better when the situation calls for it.”

  “The decision is out of my hands.” He steepled his fingers across his chest. “The directive came down from headquarters in Chicago.”

  Years of Army service taught Dale that when orders were issued, the underlings had no choice but to obey. He lounged deeper into the chair, crossing a boot over the opposite knee. “And if I threaten to quit?”

  Huffing out a breath, Archie narrowed his gaze and shook his head. “I’d have to let you go. With the utmost reluctance, of course, but I’d write you a solid recommendation.”

  The statement stung. Dale did his best to hide his wince. He was out of ammunition. If his successful career couldn’t save him from the new edict, he’d either have to walk away from a job he excelled at or cave to the new regulations. “But forcing us to marry? That move seems extreme.” He hated the possibility he’d have to find another line of work. What other duties was a former Army sniper and ex-bounty hunter good for?

  “Look at the situation from an angle that doesn’t involve your pride.”
Archie glared across the desktop. “Could you go out on an assignment miles from here, most likely to a town smaller than Denver, with a unmarried woman? Travel with her, sleep in the same hotel room, maybe even learn to count on her to back you up, and not be married? The woman’s reputation would be ruined. What’s honorable about that circumstance?”

  “Nothing.” Archie’s words sounded rehearsed. Dale guessed all the other agents before him probably expressed the same resistance. Basic decency surfaced, and he shook his head. “You’re right. I’ve only come back to Denver for a day or two at a time since the first teams were matched.” Archie’s own sister, Victoria, went behind his back and, while wearing a disguising veil, participated in the first group marriage, being matched with Maverick Jones. So, Archie also had a personal stake in this arrangement. “How are they working out?”

  “Better than hoped for. Which is why your threat won’t work.” Archie smiled. “The cases we’re accepting recently require a balanced team. The women have proved to be fast learners and quite competent, and their skills are essential in certain instances.”

  Sounds like a sales pitch. He couldn’t think of a single case where an inexperienced lady would have helped him track down the culprit and get him centered in his sights. “What say do I have in the choosing?” His thoughts strayed to the woman he’d set aside upon entering the office. Could she be one of the potential agents? Surely, not someone so refined…and beautiful. No matter. He really should find out who the woman was so he could apologize. If he wasn’t so tired from yesterday’s travel and his late-night arrival, he might have acted in a more gentlemanly manner.

  “Not a single word.”

  Dale sat upright. “The dickens you say—”Archie’s upraised hand stopped his protest.

  “My job…although why I’m explaining my methods, I don’t know.” He sucked in a breath and winced. “I have to evaluate the clients’ needs and the inherent skills and abilities of my agents. Like I told the first group, placements, meaning matching agents and trainees, are made based on the combined skill set. So far, the women who have applied bring a wide variety of abilities and talents. That they arrive here from diversified geographic locations has also proved an advantage.”

  He picked up a piece of paper and scanned it. “Even from as far away as…well, that’s not important. What is important is your answer, which I don’t need right this minute.” Setting a cane near his feet, he braced a hand on the desktop and eased upward

  “A cane, boss?” Surprise bolted Dale to his feet. “What happened?”

  “Took a bullet to the back last month while running an investigation on illegal whiskey distilling.”

  “Best wishes on your recovery.” Dale couldn’t remember the last time he heard about Gordon doing field work.

  “Appreciate that.” He grinned. “Once Marianne took charge of nursing me, I recovered well. While you’re contemplating the future of your career, grab some of what Pearl prepared for dinner. Then go to the dormitory to shower and crawl into your bed. I expect your answer by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  A home-cooked meal prepared by the housekeeper sounded great. Whatever she cooked would excel compared to the meals he’d wolfed down at train-stop hotels or sandwiches purchased from vendors. He settled his hat onto his head. “I am beat. Sleeping on trains is nothing like in a real bed.” He crossed the floor and opened the office door.

  “And, Dale…”

  Gordon’s last few comments had sounded almost caring, but as he glanced over his shoulder, he braced himself. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t shave. The beard might be appropriate for the image the new client wants.”

  Not shaving put him ten minutes closer to his much-needed sleep. “Right.” He popped a salute then crossed the threshold. Turning to the right, he moved toward the kitchen, following the enticing scent of cooked meat and fresh bread. A nearby swish of cloth caught his attention, and he glanced left to spot brown shoes under brown skirts descending the stairs from the second floor. She wasn’t the lady he’d manhandled earlier so he kept walking.

  The kitchen door stood a few inches ajar. He pushed against it and met momentary resistance before it swung inward. “What the—”

  “Shh.”

  A big hand yanked him inside, and Dale stumbled forward before righting his posture and turning, a fist clenched and lifted to shoulder height. When he recognized the bulk and blond hair of fellow agent Alexei Zivon, he relaxed. “What are you doing spying inside the main office?”

  Dishes clattered onto the counter next to the oversized stove. “Dinner’s almost ready. Wash up.” Pearl stirred a wooden spoon in a large cast iron pot.

  “Marianne mentioned Archie was interviewing today.” Alexei glanced back, his lips stretched into a wide smile. “I wanted to get a look at the women.”

  Dale dropped his chin then snapped closed his mouth. Did that mean the woman he’d almost bowled over in the office might become an agent? “Who have you seen?”

  “A petite brunette dressed in brown went into the office right after you came out. Real pretty, if a bit delicate-looking.” With two hands, he outlined a slim figure in the air. “Earlier, another brunette dressed in navy exited. She acted like Baba Yaga was after her.”

  “Like who?” Frowning, Dale leaned a hip against a counter.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged then turned back to the open door. “She’s a hag, actually a witchy demon, from Rus mythology.”

  Sometimes, Dale envied what Alexei had—connection with his ethnic heritage.

  “Gents, the meal is ready.” The cook with the ash blonde hair and pale skin stepped close, making shooing motions with the hem of her apron. “Don’t offend me by letting the food get cold before you take your place at the table.”

  As he rushed to be first at the sink to wash his hands, Dale chuckled at the shy woman’s bluster. Since being hired the previous year, she’d become bolder. “I don’t want to be on your bad side, Miss Pearl. Your food is not to be missed.” What he’d also missed was the easygoing conversation around the table as others brought him current on the latest news. The agents and staff were his extended family.

  After a hearty meal of beef stew, yeast rolls, and dried apple pie, Dale checked the time on his pocket watch then waved off requests to join a card game. Satisfaction from the warm food in his belly loosened his muscles and weighted his eyelids. He staggered across the grounds to his upstairs room in the agents’ dormitory.

  At the sight of his bed, with the rumpled sheets and blankets, he shifted his priorities. He could always make his decision about the job later after he surrendered to sleep. Removing his clothes seemed to take forever. Finally, he was horizontal and tucked a hand under the pillow. The sunlight streaming through the window made him scrunch his eyes closed. So, why did he smell jasmine? The final thought he registered was of widened eyes staring into his own. If only he might see the enticing brunette again…

  Saturday, May 25, 1872

  The heavy front door of the Pinkerton agency office swung inward.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Marianne smiled from the doorway. “Please join me in the library.”

  Liana squeezed Dixie’s hand for good luck then returned the secretary’s greeting with a wide smile. “’Morning, Miss Marianne.” Since receiving Mister Gordon’s note last evening, she hadn’t thought of anything but what this meeting might entail. Would her hopes of becoming an agent be realized, or would she return to the apparel shop and sew dresses for other better-qualified women? She released her parasol before stepping inside.

  As she walked across the hallway, Marianne gestured toward the corner arrangement of armchairs near a settee. “Make yourselves comfortable. Pearl prepared a pot of tea for our meeting. Would you like a cup?” She lifted the quilted cover off a rounded teapot and set it aside.

  “Yes, please.” Liana sat in an armchair and smoothed the skirt of her pastel yellow dress so the hem ruffles covered the tips of her shoes.
br />   “A cup of tea sounds wonderful.” Dixie perched on the edge of the settee cushion, her hands clasping her reticule cords.

  Marianne set to work pouring. “Usually, Arch—I mean Mister Gordon—conducts this last interview. But I convinced him I’d heard it enough times to save him the effort.” She glanced up and met their gazes. “I’m assuming you’ve heard of his continued recovery.”

  Liana nodded and accepted the floral china cup and saucer. “Several customers at the shop shared about the shooting incident. We were both sad to hear of the horrible incident.” Belatedly, she realized she should have expressed her feelings at the interview with the recovering agent.

  Receiving her tea, Dixie murmured her thanks. “I noticed his pallor yesterday, when we talked. But he assured me he’s on the mend.”

  With a tsk-tsk, Marianne shook her head, bouncing long tendrils along her cheeks. “He acts like he’s invincible, but I make sure he gets adequate rest.” She settled into the second armchair and took a couple sips before resting the saucer in her lap. “Now, Dixie and Liana, I’m happy to share that, following the agency’s review of your applications and the personal interviews, you have both been matched with experienced agents.”

  A squeal of happiness escaped before Liana clamped her lips. “Oh, thank you. I’m so happy.”

  “Wonderful.” Dixie hid her mouth behind her tea cup.

  “The two agents are in with Mister Gordon receiving final instructions and reviewing the details of their case assignments. That process shouldn’t take long because both agents have completed several cases.” She glanced toward the open door then back. “Do either of you have any questions? Possibly ones of a more personal nature?”

  Anticipation jittered along her nerves to such a degree that Liana had a hard time sitting still. The next stage of her life was about to happen. “Will the wedding be today?”

  “That’s right. The ceremony will commence within only a few minutes.” Marianne took a deep breath. “Walking into Mister Gordon’s office is evidence you accept the stipulations of the outlined arrangement.”