Kathleen Y'Barbo (9 page)

“You really should go,” she insisted.

He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Yes, I should.
But I have one question. Did you hide atop the Cotton Exchange because you were afraid of someone here?”

“No,” she said without missing a beat. “I ran from the spotlight.”

“I see.” Kyle stared down at her, memorizing eyes the color of café au lait, a nose that tipped slightly at the end, skin of flawless porcelain, and mahogany curls. “But you came back.”

“Thanks to you.”

He registered her gratitude, though his focus was on watching lips the color of rose petals move.

“You
must
go,” those lips said.

He forced his thoughts away from recalling how she felt in his arms as they flew over the Memphis rooftops. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I suppose I must. One more question?”

Her perturbed expression gave way to a nod. “Just one.”

“Would you have returned had I not deposited you on the roof of this hotel?”

Their gazes met. “I don’t think I know the answer to that.” She gave him a discreet push. “Now go.”

Kyle reached out to draw her further down the hall with him. Another step to the left and they were in a dark corner completely hidden from view.

Brushing back a curl from her forehead, Kyle once again studied her. “Not until I have your assurance that your insistence on my departure has nothing to do with anything illegal or with anyone who might intend to harm to you.”

“I assure you.”

Barely a blink and she had continued to look into his eyes. Kyle knew a liar when he saw one. She had spoken the truth.

His gaze fell to her neck and the gold chain glittering even in the shadows. His fingers itched to lift the chain and make his own attempt at solving the unusual cypher. “I have been toying with an invention that might solve your puzzle,” he said. “Perhaps someday...”

She inhaled sharply. “Yes, someday...”

“All right.” He released her. “Then I suppose there is nothing left to
say except Happy New Year, Miss...” He paused. “We never did exchange names, did we?”

Her lips turned up in a smile. “We did not. And Happy New Year to you as well.”

Kyle made good on his escape only doubling back long enough to retrieve his coat and hat. Another moment in her presence and he would be sorely tempted to make good on that promise of a celebratory kiss.

The notion was ridiculous, of course. Even considering it defied logic. And yet why was it when he turned to catch her still watching him did he feel an overwhelming urge to ignore logic in favor of the ridiculous?

Because the society scientist was dangerous. And though a Pinkerton agent never ran from danger, he held a healthy respect for it. He also knew better than to follow when danger left town. Or, in this case, left the hall in favor of rejoining her party.

Kyle headed to his room, shaking his head as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Later, when there was less chance of being observed, he would go back up to the roof and retrieve the carpetbag and the components of his flying device. For now they were stowed away and safely hidden from view.

“Took you long enough,” said a voice he did not recognize.

Reaching for his revolver, Kyle took a step back to connect with the door. Slowly, he inched his free hand along the wood until it collided with the doorknob.

A flash of light temporarily blinded him. Then he heard familiar laughter.

Five

January 1, 1889

Memphis

M
ildred, it’s time.”

Millie glanced back at the empty hallway and sighed softly to herself. He was referring to the purpose of the evening, the reason everyone who was anyone in Memphis had dined and danced until well past midnight.

Turning to face him, she offered a curt nod. “Yes, Father.”

“Now, to find that fiancé of yours,” he muttered. “The man was right here, but it appears he has gone somewhere and...”

The orchestra resumed their playing, preventing further conversation this close to the musicians. Millie offered a weak smile to Father’s companion that was not returned.

Ah, so it was to be like that. Once the heir was safely married off and bundled away to England, the funds Millie’s marriage would bring in would be spent on a woman who found it impossible to manage a smile?

“Not while I have a say in the matter,” Millie muttered.

“What is that?” the object of her thoughts demanded.

“I was just thinking about England,” she responded sweetly.

“I understand it is cold there. And the castles are drafty.” Mrs. Ward-Wiggins shook her head. “I am sure it will be a fine place for you to live, but it is not a place I am keen to visit.”

You’re not a person I intend to invite for a visit
, Millie longed to say. Instead she kept her thoughts unspoken and schooled her expression to stay as neutral as she could manage.

“Perhaps the chap will buy you that balloon you pestered me to purchase.” Father began to describe to his companion the ballooning trips Millie had convinced him to take her on while in France.

Millie momentarily ignored her father as thoughts rose of a certain dark-haired balloonist, or aviator, or whatever the handsome fellow could be termed. Then she said, “I thought you felt a balloon was an unsuitable means of transportation for a Cope. Do not you find it unseemly?”

Eyes the color of her own narrowed. “But you will not be a Cope then, will you? Nor will you be running about the Memphis skies for all to see and comment upon.” He opened his pocket watch, and then snapped it shut, muttering something about the lateness of the hour.

Millie waited for the familiar feeling of disappointment—that heavy blanket she carried about her shoulders even when the summer sun shone. Odd, but it failed to arrive. Not even a thin scarf of guilt to toss over her shoulder.

Interesting.

He was still muttering. Still looking around the room with a perturbed expression.

“Has my intended gone missing?” she asked lightly, for of course Sir William was in the room somewhere. Only then did she realize he had not returned with the beverage he had promised to fetch. Or had he?

Millie considered exactly when he might have returned and decided the time fit square in the middle of the most wonderful dance of the evening.

Her dance with the dark-haired aviator. She sighed. Had the Englishman taken offense to her attentions being stolen by another?

“If you will excuse me, Father, I think I will go see where Sir William has gone.”

But gone he was, for Millie scoured the ballroom and could not find him. Just as well, she decided as she returned to find her father still looking quite perturbed.

“Odd business, this disappearance. I suppose our announcement will have to wait for another day unless he returns soon.” He glanced down at her wrist. “Are those your grandmother’s pearls, Mildred?”

“They are,” she said as she slid the strands around to reveal the intricate gold clasp. Imbedded in the center of what could arguably be a stylized family crest were three yellow diamonds set in triangular fashion. In the center of the triangle was a single sapphire.

Land and sea. That is what Mama had termed the piece. A nod to the family’s seafaring past had been her mother’s best guess.

The way Father’s gaze lingered on the piece gave Millie an uncomfortable feeling that she would not continue to own it should she fail to keep it under lock and key. Stranger things had happened than to find a bauble or two missing at the end of a month that had failed to produce enough revenue to keep her father’s business funds flowing.

Another thing she would no longer worry about once her marriage to Sir William was finalized.

The idea should have been a relief to Millie. She had so few reminders of her mother, and with each loss of a pin or bracelet, necklace or earring, she felt another link to Mama slip away.

Her fingers went to her neck and the thin gold chain her father would never have. The cypher and heart shifted, reminding Millie there were still secrets left to uncover.

Her flying friend had boasted of his ability to solve Jefferson wheel cyphers. She also had a bit of talent there, though her grandmother’s puzzle had no solution as yet.

“You have gone and done it,” Father said as he removed his pocket watch again and pointed it in her direction. “Sir William was ready to proclaim his intentions publicly, but something has obviously delayed his statement. I have nothing left to do but send you home and pray your disgrace goes unnoticed.”

Disgrace? So Father was blaming the man’s disappearance on her. Of course.

“Not actually pray, of course,” Millie said under her breath as she turned to look away. “For that might be worthy of your time, speaking
to the Lord on my behalf, that is.”

For all the Cope family members who had graced the tufted and pillowed pew in church each Sunday, the only one who had kept Millie in prayers was Mama. And that had been far too long ago.

“Home with you, then,” Father said, oblivious to her mutterings. “I will do what I can to remedy the embarrassment you have once again brought to this family.”

Embarrassment, indeed. She bit back a retort. What was far more likely was that the town matrons’ tongues would be wagging tomorrow because Silas Cope was seen staggering into yet another hotel room with a woman to whom he was not married. And likely a woman of an age that Millie could call sister.

This time when she left the ballroom, Millie remembered her wrap in addition to her evening coat. And though the carriage ride home was brief, the peace she had hoped to find in the solitude of her bedchamber proved elusive.

She was tempted to escape to her third-floor hideaway to take up a book where she had left off this morning or perhaps sketch the stranger’s flying machine before she forgot some of its detail. Neither idea held any appeal.

When one of the maids came to remove her hairpins and assist her in changing into her nightgown, Millie waved her away and moved to the window. Had it been only a little while ago that she had drifted over the rooftop beneath the dark silk balloon of a flying machine?

It all seemed like a dream dreamed while awake and experienced from a faraway place. Oh, but the aviator had been real. His arms were sturdy and his smile quite lovely.

And he had claimed he could solve cyphers.

Millie paused just long enough to exchange her evening coat for a warmer and sturdier garment. Unless she missed her guess, it was quite possible the stranger had returned to the rooftop of the Peabody Hotel for his flying equipment.

And if he had, she intended to join him. Not because she wanted to know more about the elusive inventor, but because the need to solve her grandmother’s puzzle was becoming stronger each time Father
checked his pocket watch.

Kyle returned his revolver to its hiding place and then walked over to shake hands with his surprise guest. “Do you have any idea how close you were to getting shot?”

Lucas McMinn had the audacity to grin as he set his personal torch device on the table next to him and then leaned back to make himself comfortable. “None at all,” he said. “You would never take a shot in the dark. My guess is you were about to open the door and then aim.”