Kathleen Y'Barbo (12 page)

She watched him take long strides across the roof. Only when he had almost moved out of her sight did Millie decide to follow.

Keeping to the shadows, she made her way carefully toward him and then watched while he knelt down. He set to work, his moves swift but methodical. After what seemed like only a few minutes, the flying machine had been packed up. Now all that remained of the wondrous device was a carpetbag and some sort of sack that likely held the black silk balloon. Eventually he would go back and fetch the crate from the Cotton Exchange, or so she assumed. However, without a key that feat could not be accomplished until after the second day of January.

Millie hoisted up her courage and then said a quick prayer for favor. If she could get the stranger to agree to help her open the cypher, perhaps her troubles with Father would be over...and without having to marry an Englishman she barely knew.

Keep it safe, Millie. Your treasure lies inside.

Begging Mama for details had not done any good. Instead, she quoted the Bible’s warning that where your treasure is, so was your heart, or something to that effect.

Millie knew better, though. She had guarded her heart even more carefully than the ancestral necklace. Someday she might solve the puzzle of how to open the cypher, but no one would come near to solving the puzzle of how to reach her heart.

The stranger straightened and lifted the sack over his shoulder. When he reached for the carpetbag, Millie knew it was time to act.

She stepped boldly from the shadows and softly drew in a deep breath of chilly air and then let it out slowly. Finally her dark-haired flying companion turned to face her.

Their gazes collided. He froze, seemingly at a loss for words.

“I had begun to wonder if you would keep me waiting all night,” she said in her most casual tone.

Though cast in shadows, it appeared he was studying her before formulating a response. “How long have you been up here?” he finally asked, his voice soft, almost gentle. His expression, however, was not as he conducted what appeared to be a survey of their surroundings.

“Not so long that I had grown weary of waiting,” she said when his attention returned to her.

He shifted the bag off his shoulder and allowed it to drop to the ground before setting the carpetbag beside it. One hand reached into his coat while the other rested at his side.

“What do you want?” he demanded, his tone much firmer.

“Well,” she said as she squared her shoulders and feigned a casualness she did not feel, “I thought perhaps I might ask a favor.”

One dark brow rose, but he said nothing.

“The cypher.” She lifted the chain to show her grandmother’s prized possession. “You mentioned you had some skill in solving this sort of puzzle.”

“Yes.” He glanced around again and then returned his attention to Millie. “Do you mean now?”

She thought of Sir William, possibly in conversation with Father. Or Father, alerted to the fact his only living daughter was on the roof and heading this way. No. He would send one of his minions, but the result would be the same.

“I know the hour is quite late, so I fear I cannot stay long...”

“Nor can I.” Even in the moonlight, she could see his eyes narrow. “Are you a guest of this hotel?”

Millie shook her head. Though she felt no threat from him, she thought a reminder that there was indeed someone awaiting her descent from the rooftop seemed in order. “I am sure Father will want to know
where I have gone.”

The truth, as Sir William had probably told him the truth of her destination already.

A grin began. “So you are asking me to solve your puzzle, only I must be quick about it?”

She met his smile. “Yes, that is it exactly.”

Having his daydream inexplicably appear was disconcerting at best. Now that she had charmed him with her smile and her suddenly shy demeanor, Kyle knew he would have agreed to almost anything she asked of him.

He watched as she slid the chain containing the cypher and a smaller heart-shaped locket from her neck.

“The light here is poor. Perhaps if we went inside, then I—”

“No!” She clutched at the lapels of her coat and appeared to be formulating a further response. “That is, I have a good reason for not being seen.”

His Pinkerton instincts went on alert. They were alone on the roof, of this he had no doubt. Still, many a pretty woman had been used to accomplish ugly purposes.

“Want to tell me what that reason is?”

She met his steady gaze and barely blinked. “Among my set, Memphis can prove to be a very small town. I cannot risk any sort of...misunderstanding...should you and I be seen together at this late hour.”

“You are afraid of what the gossips will say if you are seen with me?” He handed the necklace back to her and she slipped it on again. “And yet you did not give flying with me a second thought once you determined my craft was worthy of flight.”

“That is completely untrue,” she quickly responded. “I was simply presented with dire circumstances and had no choice.”

“No choice?” His laughter echoed in the quiet of the early morning. “As I recall, you are the one who asked me not to land as planned.”

She waved away his protest. “Much as I would love to debate the details of our evening together, as I said, our time is short.”

A rumble of footsteps on the other side of the door he had remembered to wedge shut caused his companion to scramble for the shadows. When he stood firm, she returned to grasp his wrist.

“Please do not let them find me up here!”

“Them?” he said as he pulled away to snatch up the pieces of the flying device and then allowed her to lure him into the shadows. Only when he had stowed his gear did Kyle give thought to the fact he could have walked right into a trap.

Seven

January 1, 1889

Memphis

A
fter the aviator had stowed his gear behind a stack of wooden crates, he snagged Millie’s wrist. With long strides that had her hurrying to keep up, he moved into the depths of the shadows.

“Who are they?” he said, his breath warm against her ear.

His demeanor required a response. The truth. Millie thought only a moment before answering.

“Most likely my father. And possibly my fiancé.”

His grip relaxed as he released her to step away. The man’s sweeping glance left her no question as to what he thought of being asked to protect a daughter from a parent or a woman from her intended.

“Give me a good reason why I should not remove the lock from that door, and make it fast.”

She shook her head. “But how can you lock the door from the outside?”

A pounding on the door attested to the fact that his claim was quite possible. The speed with which he left her to stride toward the exit showed her he would brook no delay in a response from her.

“An answer,” he said simply, ignoring her question entirely. “And I will allow no diversionary tactics.”

“Who is that?” came a male voice from the other side of the door. Definitely not Father, nor did it sound like Sir William.

Millie hurried to the stranger’s side and then motioned him away from the door. “Think of how it would look to my father and fiancé if you and I are caught up here with the door locked,” she whispered. She nodded toward the odd metal object her companion had used to secure their privacy. Or at least his.

His expression softened. Still, he made no move to open the door. At least for the moment the pounding had ceased.

Millie groaned softly and reached to touch his sleeve. She would have to tell him everything quickly and quietly. “Had I not been flying over the rooftops with you, my father would have announced my engagement tonight.”

“My recollection is that you found me atop the Cotton Exchange building and then you asked that we continue our flight when I was happy to take you straight down to the ground. Do
not
hold me responsible.”

“Yes, all right, I agree to all you have said. But I...I panicked and ran away, but only just down the street, and I had intended to return after...”

“Just one good reason and I will help you.” He held up his hand. “One.”

“There are many. But the one I will offer is this.” She gave him a pleading look. “I must not ruin this engagement.”

The pounding resumed, and Millie jumped back. “There are good reasons,” she said softly. “
Very
good reasons to marry. May we just leave it at that?”

The stranger leaned against the brick wall, his arms crossed, and his gaze unwavering. Something in his stance told her he had faced down greater challenges than her. And won.

“If what you say is true, why risk coming back up here to find me?”

She pulled the chain from her bodice again. “I thought I might find help with the cypher. You said—”

Demands that the door be opened came louder now, interrupting Millie’s response. Any moment whoever was knocking could call out her name and ruin the only chance at anonymity she had. Once he knew
her to be Mildred Cope, she certainly could not ask the stranger to help her with the cypher.

He studied her a moment and then nodded. “Find an empty barrel and climb in. Hurry.”

She did as he asked, knowing that in the process she would be hopelessly soiling a House of Worth gown of extravagant cost. And yet a stain on her reputation would cost much, much more than the value of a ball gown.

So she crouched down inside the dirty barrel and did her best not to sneeze as she heard the door slam open. Deep voices rose, one speaking in calm, almost hushed tones and the other much louder and insistent.

The dust settled around her as she tried not to inhale the earthy scent. Tried not to think of what the barrel might have held before she climbed inside. What might still be crawling around.

Something skittered across her shoulder, and she bit back a cry as she swiped at it. An ant, it appeared, though an overlarge one. But where there was one...

She closed her eyes against the image of horrible little insects marching across her shoes and climbing up her legs. They weren’t, of course, but the longer she remained inside the barrel, the longer she listened to the raised voices of the men some distance away, the easier it was to imagine the worst.

And then silence.

Millie waited, her view of the world limited to the bent wooden slats of a barrel and the oval of star-dusted sky above. Then came footsteps. Heavy, even, a measured stride that indicated neither hurry nor a leisurely pace.

Finally the barrel tilted and the aviator’s face appeared. He looked less than pleased. In fact, he looked downright angry.

“I will have an honest answer out of you. What do you know of a theft in the hotel?” he demanded.

“What are you talking about?” she asked as she tugged at the gold chain now caught on a nail inside the barrel. As she struggled with the necklace, Millie looked up to find her inquisitor’s handsome face masked with an expression of irritation.

He reached in to yank her out of the barrel, and she easily slipped out. “I repeat,” he said, “have you stolen something?”

“You are joking.” Thankful to be released, she steadied herself on her feet and then looked up to see that he appeared to be completely serious.