Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (3 page)

Nice like the mama skunk that dug a home and had her babies under the woodshed. Mother had sent Lewis to drown them in the DuPage River. If only she had exhibited the same sense before marrying Asa Holt. Ellen ground her teeth to keep from speaking.

“Besides,” Aunt Louisa continued. “I’ve warmed to the idea of having young people around me to bring into society. Although”—she turned on James and jutted her teacup in his direction—“why you are not doing something more useful with your time is beyond me.”

“I’m set to start at my father’s bank when my parents return from their travels.”

“Your parents seem to be forever on a journey. It would do them well to pay more attention to their responsibilities.” A shaft of light sneaked between the almost closed curtains and sent a ray of sunshine across the drawing room floor. Dust motes swayed in the air as Aunt Louisa twisted her teacup in her hand.

James yawned. “At three and twenty, I think I’m long past the point of needing parental supervision.”

“That is immaterial. It is my understanding they’ve been gone half of every year for a decade. And, to my knowledge, they have never brought you along.”

James yanked at his vest. “They have not.”

With a nod of the head she dismissed him. “Ellen, am I correct to assume that you have not had a proper debut yet?”

She should have known her aunt would launch a full investigation their first day in town. And of course, Aunt Louisa would not like what Ellen had to tell her. “No. It’s still very country around Wheaton. People would consider it snobbery to host a formal debut.”

“Well, it’s too late for a formal one here, but let us consider tonight at the Cobb’s ball your debut. Just between us, of course. As your chaperone I’ll allow you to dance with any man of your choosing. How would that be?” Aunt Louisa nibbled a sweet biscuit. “Now, you do own a proper bustle?”

Ellen fought a grin. “Yes, ma’am, I couldn’t have graduated from Madame De Molineus School for the Enrichment of Young Ladies without one.”

“Very good. At least your mother had the intellect to send you to finishing school. Oh, don’t look affronted. You know as well as I that your mother chose a simple life when she could have married a different suitor than your father. It’s still beyond comprehension as to why she chose him.” Her aunt sipped her tea. “Where’s my help? This has gone cold.”

“Yes, but if my mother hadn’t married my father then I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

Her aunt huffed and sloshed tea over the edge of her cup. “Don’t speak about such things in public.”

“But you just said—”

James took a seat on the horsehair sofa and extended his long legs, crossing them at his ankles. “What is the fascination with bustles anyway?”

Aunt Louisa’s eyes popped wide open. “Mr. Kent, I know you fancy shocking me, but really it is impolite and vulgar to speak of women’s attire in such a flippant manner.”

He shrugged. “No offense meant. But it confuses me, one minute a girl looks normal, as Ellen does now”—he gestured her way—“and then you see the same girl two hours later and the costume she’s donned could knock vases off of tables when she turns if she’s not careful.”

Aunt Louisa put up a hand to block James and turned toward Ellen. “You can waltz? You
were
taught proper dances at that school? It is my belief that a woman should not appear in society at all unless she is physically equal to the occasion.”

Ellen pushed away from the secretary, securing the drop leaf before she bent to adjust her skirts. “Yes, ma’am. I am accomplished in the popular forms of the waltz, quadrille, polka, and cotillion. I can also walk across the room with a book and a piece of china balanced on my head if you’d like. Another one of Madame’s rules.”

Rocking to her feet, Aunt Louisa clasped her hands together. “Imagine my dear, if you marry well, your entire family could be launched into high society. No one needs ever to know that your father dabbled in the horse races.” She patted Ellen’s cheek. “The matchmaking mothers all over town will adore you, I’m sure. The bluebloods are forever searching for new worthy families to add to their circle. It gets to the point where everyone in the top echelons are related, you know.” Her aunt stepped back to regard her. “And as long as a man can forgive your freckles, the rest of your features are quite striking. At least in an exotic way, with those enormous blue eyes set off by such dark hair. Don’t you think so, Mr. Kent?”

James scuffed his shoe across the Oriental rug. “I’m rather fond of Ellen’s freckles.”

Aunt Louisa tapped his shoulder. “Be serious, young man. We need an honest opinion from a member of the male species. Unfortunately, you are all we have at the moment.”

“I’ve always considered Ellen a beauty, even when she was all knees and elbows at ten years old, trying to force me to play Indians with her.” He winked at Ellen.

When Aunt Louisa turned to fan herself, Ellen stuck her tongue out at James.

He rubbed his chin. “And if I remember right, you didn’t even need the headdress to be chief, because your hair stuck up so much it looked like you already had one on.” His gaze locked with Ellen’s and held. “Wasn’t your mom always getting after you for playing in the mud? What a sight you made with it streaked down your arms and face.”

Ellen balled her fists. “I could still skin you alive.”

Her aunt sniffed. “I hope you two won’t act like this in company.”

James offered a lopsided grin. “Not to worry, Mrs. Danby, Ellen and I only try to kill each other in private.”

“It’s good to know you can behave yourself some of the time. In the meanwhile, if you feel the need to wage war please refrain from spilling any blood on my cushions. Those gold tasseled ones are a particular favorite of mine. They were a gift, a long time ago.” As if forgetting her point to the conversation, she stared down at her cold cup of tea. “Where is my help? Don’t they know I can hire a new staff at any time?” Aunt Louisa hustled out, teacup in hand.

Ellen glared at James. He laughed. She shook her head. The man was such a menace.

Truth be known, she didn’t mind his ribbing, not really. A certain comfort came from having a friend intimate enough to pester. In the past twelve years, James spent more time living in the Ingram household than the Kent residence and his presence was now more expected than her own brother’s, who always found a need to be away. Well, at least in the past six months. Not that Ellen blamed Lewis.

If she carried the sense of shame that she knew Lewis felt, she’d make herself scarce, too.

James ran a hand over his short-clipped blond hair. “What’s that you were reading?”

“It’s the third volume of
Emma
. I finished it only moments ago.”

“What did you think of the story?” After grimacing, he reached behind his back and pulled out the cross-stitch pattern Aunt Louisa had worked on last night. A hideous image of a boy with a sheep—the sheep looked more like a howling banshee though. With a flick of his wrist James tossed it onto the table then rubbed his back, mumbling about a tingling backside.

No one understood her fascination with reading. Aunt Louisa told her a woman who read became patronizing at best, and at home, mother snatched books from her, demanding to know where Ellen apprehended them. She’d never tell that her best friend Margaret kept her up to date with the latest dime novels. Even now a copy of
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
was safely hidden under her mattress, begging to be yanked out later tonight. Oh, she could hardly wait for the next chapter.

At least James cared enough to engage her in conversation about her hobby. No one else did.

“I found it inspiring, to a point.” Taking up her book, Ellen crossed the room and sat on the chair across from James.

He snatched one of Aunt’s tea biscuits from her abandoned plate. “How so?” Crumbs scattered across his shirt, he brushed at them with the back of his hand.

“The main character had an enviable position. She did not need to marry because her father’s wealth kept her in the highest reaches of society, but she did marry. For love. The man she ended up with was her truest friend. When they wed, she didn’t burden him in the union, instead, she brought with her more wealth. It is romantic, but it is not a true-to-life portrait.”

James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What rang false? Don’t you want to marry for love?”

Ellen snorted. An unladylike sound, to be sure. But with only James there, who cared. “I won’t be able to bring great wealth to any match, and I have no longtime friend to sweep me off my feet. But yes, it might not look like Emma’s marriage, but I do plan to wed.” She lowered her voice to make him a co-conspirator in her plan. “In fact, I will be engaged within the next month if I have my way.”

“The next month!” He jerked back and his eyebrows rose. “You’re teasing me. I know you aren’t courting anyone at the moment, and half-pint, as beguiling as you can be, only the strongest magic could work such a miracle.”

Ellen crossed her arms and glared at him. “I’m quite serious, James.”

His brows knit together. The face she knew so well, that Ellen admitted was a handsome one, paled. “But who? Really, Ellen, speak plainly with me. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She peeked over her shoulder, making certain that Aunt Louisa remained out of earshot. “The name of the man is yet to be determined. But I will not return to my mother’s house. I am determined to find a match during our visit.”

James sighed. “Is this about your stepfather?”

Yes.
“Of course not. I’m nineteen and my scores from finishing school guarantee I’m ready to run a household.”

“But listen, you can’t expect all that to happen during a month-long visit in Chicago.”

“I plan to start my hunt tonight at Silas Cobb’s ball. He’s the richest man in Chicago, and Aunt Louisa says there will be scads of eligible bachelors there.” She snapped to her feet and grabbed James’s hand. “Practice the waltz with me?”

His arm hung limp from her grasp. He didn’t stand. “You don’t need practice. Didn’t you just say your scores from Madame De Molineus were exemplary?”

“Yes, we learned the steps, but it’s an all-girls institution. Madame partnered me with Tessa Lockwood and she had a pitiful limp. I suffered countless bruises to my toes on Tessa’s account. I want to see how the dance feels when it’s performed with the right sort of partner. If I show up tonight and make a fool of myself, more than just my feet will ache. Now get up.” Ellen gave his arm a yank and James yelped.

“For such a little thing you’re stronger than you look.” He rubbed his shoulder as a grin tugged at his lips. Instead of fighting her though, he stepped away from the furniture and motioned for her to follow. Next, he put his arms out in proper form and bowed his head slightly.

Ellen played with the watch attached to her dress. “Right here? Without any music?”

James smiled. Never one to show his teeth, just his lips lifted, but the effect made his green eyes soft and welcoming. “You did want to waltz, did you not? Now or never, half-pint.”

“Don’t call me that.” She swatted at his chest, but then stepped into his hold. Ellen slipped her right hand so it rested in James’s strong left hand, then he moved his right hand to cup her waist. His warmth radiated up her back. Ellen licked her lips.

Heat raced to her cheeks as she placed her left hand on his right shoulder. It shouldn’t surprise her how solid he felt. He’d been a member of the rowing team during his time at Northwestern University and she knew he dedicated hours to athletic pursuit, but she had never been close enough to any man to feel their muscles. Well, besides hugging Lewis, but brothers didn’t count—especially lanky ones.

He titled his head a fraction. “Just promise me we’ll do something manly like play chess afterwards.”

She looked up and her gaze locked with his green eyes. They were so close. Inches away. Good thing she was practicing with James instead of feeling out of sorts sharing personal space for the first time with another man at her first ball. Would she embarrass herself completely? Ellen bit her lip.

James leaned closer—if that was possible. “You know the basic box-step, correct?”

Unable to speak, she nodded. From this near she could see two freckles on his neck, usually hidden beneath his collar. A small L-shaped scare on his left cheek brought back memories of playing pirates by the river. James had taken a sword …
er
… branch to the face to gain that battle wound.

“Okay. Now, one, two, three, one, two three.” He started the dance, his shoulders in the ideal position. Parallel to the ground instead of slumped like Madame De Molineus had cautioned many young men were apt to do.
If his posture begins to sink, decorum dictates that you complete the dance, but make certain you never accept his hand again. A man who slumps when courting will end up proving to be a lazy husband every time.

James Kent could dance. How many young women had he held in his arms like this? Why did the number that popped into Ellen’s head bother her?

With a stumble, Ellen stepped on his toe. He winced. Then she stopped, and James bumped against her.

He caught her by the upper arm and gave a small squeeze. “You’ll do fine tonight. Just don’t be so nervous and remember to let the man lead.”

“At least then I can blame any stumbles on him.”

“That’s the trick.” He offered his arm.

“Will you dance the first one at the party with me?” A woman really shouldn’t ask, but this was only James. “Then if I make any mistakes, at least it’ll be just you.”

“Of course.” He pulled a chair out for her. “Now, I do believe we have a game of chess waiting.”

Ten minutes later James looked across the table, meeting her giggles with a dumbfounded stare.

She snatched his white king. “Don’t look so woebegone. A man may enjoy the lead on the dance floor, but around the game table, a woman’s mind wins out.”

“Even though I know you’ve always been clever with puzzles, it’s hard to believe you could slaughter me in two moves.” He rubbed his temples as he examined the board.