Almost a Lady (24 page)

With a wide smile, he came forward and put his arms around her waist for a quick hug. “Congratulations. I hope you'll be very happy. All three of you,” he added, with a nod at the bedroom where Erik slept.

"Well,” he continued, “I'd best be going.” Grabbing his hat from the low table before the settee, he twisted the band of the bowler and moved for the door. “If you need anything, be sure to let me know."

"We
will,
thank you."

As soon as Robert departed, Willow turned and walked straight into Brandt's arms.

"I hope we don't have many more days like this one.” Brandt feathered his fingers through her hair, careful to avoid the bump on the side of her head.

"
Mmm
,” she murmured in languid agreement. Her lids felt heavy even though she'd just awakened from a rather lengthy nap.

"I think we need a happy day for a change,” he continued, pulling her with him onto the settee. He propped his legs on the low table in front of the sofa and arranged hers over his lap, tucking her head into his shoulder. “So when do you want to marry me?"

She lifted her face and smiled at him. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was truly, completely content.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a warm, hard kiss on his lips, she curled her fingers into the smooth chambray of his shirt. “Any day you say,” she whispered softly. “Any day you say."

Two months later. . .

"I still can't believe you and Brandt are getting married,” said Megan McCain, one of Willow's best friends and her matron of honor, as she stood behind Willow at the cheval glass and adjusted the long folds of diaphanous veil covering the auburn waves of her hair. “When Lucas and I asked Brandt to stop in Jefferson City to check up on you, we never expected this."

Willow couldn't quite believe it either. Oh, not the part about falling in love with Brandt. That had been inevitable, even in the beginning, when she'd fought so hard against it. But she couldn't believe she was standing in this opulent hotel room, readying herself to be married. The stiff satin encasing her body from the tips of her toes to just above her breasts should have assured her of the situation, but instead it only made her feel more stupefied.

Brandt was downstairs, she knew, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Probably chatting with Lucas and Caleb and his sisters’ husbands, and keeping Erik out of trouble, she hoped.
Though Erik seemed to have found a kindred spirit in Caleb and Rebecca Adams's son, Zachary.
The two boys had been playing together ever since Brandt's friends had arrived in
New York
three days earlier.

Willow hadn't known the
Adamses
before now, but from the moment she'd met them, she'd liked them immensely. Megan was Caleb's younger sister, and though she was married now, with a child of her own, they still seemed very close. Having lost out on family ties during her own childhood, kith and kin meant a lot to Willow, and she felt that these people, who weren't actually related by blood, were about to become the next best thing. Brandt had assured her this was so.

Right now, she wished she could imagine her soon-to-be husband pacing and tugging at his collar, as nervous as she. Brandt, however, was the calmest groom she'd ever encountered. And any time she'd mentioned this apparent tranquility of his—in complete contrast to her own belly full of butterflies—he'd simply smiled that sexy, charming smile he reserved only for her and said he had nothing to be anxious about; he was marrying the woman of his dreams.

Well, she was marrying the man of
her
dreams, but that didn't keep her from feeling queasy and clammy and ready to jump out of her skin.

The queasiness, she admitted, could be due to something else entirely. She wasn't positive, since they'd been quite careful about preventing such things, but she had been feeling a touch nauseous in the mornings of late and was a few days overdue for her monthly courses. This wasn't something she wanted to share with Brandt until she was certain, but it was just as well they were getting married now instead of later.

As though sensing Willow's thoughts about babies, a low whimper sounded from the bed behind them, and Megan turned to shush her two-month-old daughter, Tessa. She had a dark crop of hair just like her mother's, but Megan insisted she'd inherited her father's stubborn chin.

The door behind them opened, and Willow whirled back around to see Rebecca Adams carrying a lovely bouquet of pink, red, and white roses, with a few bright yellow daisies added to the mix.

Willow smiled at the woman she'd heard so much about from not only Brandt but Megan. Rebecca had light brown hair pulled back in a chignon and a bright, ready smile. And though she wasn't wearing them now, a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles had perched on her nose last evening while she'd helped Willow add one small adjustment to her otherwise perfect gown.

Willow had also gotten to meet all five of Brandt's well-meaning but nosy sisters in the past few weeks, and all she could say was that she was glad they lived a ways off in Boston.

The only reason she wasn't surrounded by them now was because she'd asked that they please plan the wedding, from which minister should perform the service right down to the type of flowers that should be woven into her veil. After waiting so long for their near-hopeless brother to finally tie the knot, they had not only seen to every detail of the ceremony but had talked all five of their husbands into paying all the expenses—including a short honeymoon in Paris, of all places.

Erik was to take turns staying with each of them so he could play with and get to know all of Brandt's nieces and nephews. This prospect delighted Erik, as he suddenly found himself surrounded by more friends and family than he could count.

When she'd learned of his sisters’ machinations, Willow had laughingly told Brandt that their honeymoon might be the perfect time to brush up on her French. He'd agreed that would be just fine, as long as she stuck to her former version of the word
headache
and never learned the proper translation.

"Everyone's waiting,” Rebecca told them, breaking into Willow's thoughts. She handed Willow the bouquet, tied with a strip of yellow ribbon that matched the centers of the daisies, as well as the spring blossoms threaded through the bride's hair. “Are you ready?"

Willow's heart stuttered in her chest. Why was she so nervous? It was Brandt, she reminded herself. She loved him, wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Of that she had no doubts whatsoever.

But this was a big step. She'd testified in the cases against Virgil Chatham and
Outram
Kyne
and seen them both convicted, so that pressure was out of the way. And even though she and Brandt were remaining in
New York
and she was staying with the Agency, she knew that their marriage would change things. She would work and travel less, spend more time at home with Erik and Brandt. Maybe even with the children she and Brandt would have together.

She was looking forward to that, she thought, placing a hand low on her abdomen and wondering if her suspicions were correct. A year ago, she would have scoffed at the idea of becoming a mother. Now, she almost craved it.
Which was why the prospect of cutting back on her Pinkerton duties didn't bother her as much as it probably should have.

Willow took a deep breath and let all the tension seep from her body. Now that she thought through the changes taking place in her life, she realized she was no longer as anxious as she had been. In fact, she felt quite calm, anticipating the hours to come.

"One thing,” she said, and moved to the nightstand beside the bed. Lifting up the hem of her skirt, she slipped the pearl-handled
stilleto
into her garter.
The blue one with the bells that Brandt liked so much.

There. She always felt better when she was armed.

Straightening the folds of her gown, she turned to the other two women. “Do I look all right?"

"You look beautiful.” Rebecca gave her a strange look and asked tentatively, “Do you always carry a knife in your garter?"

"Not always,” Willow answered, keeping a straight face. “Sometimes I carry a gun."

Megan chuckled. “It's not the weapon that caught my attention. I'm curious about the bells.” And then she gave Willow a wink. “Can I borrow those things after you get back? Lucas would love them."

All three women broke out in laughter, and Willow promised to lend her garters to each woman in turn—if she couldn't find new ones in Paris, which she swore to give her very best effort.

"Brandt is going to faint when he sees you in that dress,” Megan added, lifting baby Tessa into her arms. “You look amazing."

"Thank you.” Flexing and
unflexing
her fingers around the bouquet in her hand, she said, “I guess I'm ready, then. Lead the way."

She followed Rebecca and Megan into the long hallway and down to the first floor of the luxurious hotel. One of the banquet rooms had been set up with ribbons and flowers and rows of chairs that were now occupied by the hundred or so guests Brandt's sisters had insisted
be
invited. The equally large room across the hall was filled with tables and attendants waiting to serve the wedding party immediately after the ceremony.

Rebecca passed through the heavy double doors and walked quietly to her husband's side, where he stood talking with Brandt and Lucas in hushed tones. A moment later, Caleb came to the back of the room and offered his arm to Willow. She smiled at her escort and slipped her hand around his elbow.

Balancing little Tessa on one shoulder, Megan propped the doors open and then scuttled ahead to her seat, nodding to the organist and minister as she approached.

The music began, and Caleb gave Willow a reassuring smile as they began slowly walking down the cloth-covered aisle. Brandt stood at the other end, looking as handsome as ever in his charcoal woolen dress suit. When he saw her, all expression washed from his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped, and then a smile as wide and charming and sexy as she'd ever seen crossed his face.

He made her feel beautiful and wanted, and she wished they could walk a little faster down this aisle.

Erik sat in the first chair on the bride's side, craning his neck to look back at her and
grinning
his bright, gap-toothed grin. She was surprised to see that his suit was still in fairly decent condition. He'd pulled the black bow-shaped tie from around his neck, but otherwise he looked like a young gentleman.

When they reached the minister, Caleb kissed her cheek before transferring her hand from his to Brandt's and taking a seat beside his wife and children.

Brandt pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “At least I know you didn't bring a gun to our wedding. There isn't a breath of space to spare in that gown."

She met his eyes and shot him a mischievous grin. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Donovan. I may not have brought my gun, but there was just enough room near my thigh for a knife."

He threw back his head and laughed, heedless of the multitude of guests who shot them funny looks. She bit down on a chuckle of her own and gave him a warning cuff to the arm before shifting slightly to face the minister.

They listened as the black-gowned cleric spoke of love and commitment. And then he addressed Brandt as he asked, “Do you, Brandt Maxwell Donovan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Brandt met her gaze and softly answered, “I do."

Then the reverend repeated the question for her. “And do you, Willow Elizabeth Hastings, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

She looked into Brandt's green eyes, bright and shining like emeralds, and couldn't keep the happiness from spreading across her face. “Oh, yes,” she said in a low voice, never so sure of anything in her life. “I definitely, definitely do."

Before the minister even gave him permission to do so, Brandt leaned forward and kissed her. And for the very first time as Mrs. Willow Donovan . . . she kissed him back.

I have always been fascinated by the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and enjoyed every minute of the research for
Almost a Lady.
I was even more excited when it seemed that each fact I discovered lent itself to Brandt and Willow's story.

For instance, while Allan Pinkerton (founder of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency) was alive, female operatives were quite common to the organization. He recognized what an asset the fairer sex could be to an investigation, understanding that a woman could not only use her feminine wiles to get information, but that a woman often would not be considered suspect as readily as a man. Unfortunately, his colleagues didn't, necessarily agree with him. After Allan's death in 1884, those who took over the Agency began eliminating female operatives from the payroll.

In real life, Robert Pinkerton was Allan's second son and did work under Superintendent Francis Warner at the
New York
office. Allan's first son, William, remained at the Chicago branch.

Yes, I did take a bit of literary license while creating Robert's character for this story, but I hope that I did his family justice. After all, I have always admired the
Pinkertons
greatly and like to think that if I'd been born a hundred years earlier, I might have had the chance to be a Pinkerton agent myself.