A Talent for Trouble (26 page)

Piper tugged Ming over to them and stopped. “Ming is being difficult. She keeps trying to bite everyone, and when her nannies tried to help us, she threw herself on the ground and began screaming for you. So here she is.”

Piper let go of Ming's hand, sent her a disappointed look, spun on her little heel, and marched off, one of Ming's nannies falling into step beside her.

“Would you care for us to try again?” one of the two nannies left asked, stepping forward.

“I'll take her from here, Clare. Why don't you and Mary return to keep an eye on Sam and his sisters.” He sent Felicia a
resigned smile. “On second thought, why don't you bring them to join us? Miss Murdock and I were just about to eat lunch.”

Clare frowned. “Begging your pardon, sir, but Sam, Beatrice, and Harriet are having a wonderful time with Piper and Ben. I'm sure they wouldn't mind eating lunch with you, but since they haven't had much fun in their lives, do you think it might be possible to allow them to eat with their new friends? We'll watch over them—not that they need much of that since Mrs. Beckett and Mrs. Watson haven't let them out of their sight—and we'll bring them to you after they're done eating.”

“That'll be fine, Clare,” Grayson said. “And thank you for the suggestion. Miss Murdock and I will take over with Ming, and do make certain you and the other nannies get some lunch as well.”

Clare nodded and then walked away with Mary, leaving Ming staring angrily after them. Felicia moved over to the little girl and crouched down. “Shall we go and find a lovely spot for a picnic?”

Ming's lip jutted out. “No.”

“That was my favorite word when I was a child, Ming, but we're going to have a picnic, and you're going to enjoy it.” Not giving Ming an opportunity to protest, she scooped her up and ruffled her hair, causing the girl to smile ever so slightly. “Now, we need to go and fetch our basket.”

Grayson grinned. “No we don't, because your mother's heading our way, and it looks as if she has two baskets.”

Felicia looked up, and sure enough, Ruth was strolling their way, a huge smile on her face and clutching in her hands not one but two basket handles. Grayson stepped forward and took them from her, earning himself a pat on the cheek from Ruth once she had use of her hands again.

“You're a dear boy.”

“Why did you bring us two baskets, Mother?”

“You don't think I would actually allow anyone to eat what you've prepared, do you?”

Grayson laughed. “I swear I heard you make the claim just a short time ago that Felicia was a wonderful cook.”

“Did I? Hmm. I don't recall.” She turned but then looked over her shoulder. “Do try and find a nice shady tree to eat under. It's growing quite warm, and I wouldn't want any of you to take in too much sun.”

Felicia looked around and realized that the nearest grove of trees that had available space underneath them was quite some distance away.

Her mother, it appeared, was back to her plotting ways.

She fell into step beside Grayson, and they strolled across the grass, Ming, surprisingly enough, chatting in the way three-year-olds were prone to do about everything and anything under the sun. They reached the grove of trees, but Grayson continued forward, pointing to another grove that was even farther away and would apparently lend them even more privacy.

Felicia found she didn't have a single objection to that idea.

By the time they reached the second grove, she could feel perspiration beading her forehead. She set Ming down, swiped her brow with her gloved hand, and set about helping Grayson unfold a blanket they found in her mother's basket. Once she had Ming situated on the blanket, she began pulling out food but paused when she felt Grayson's gaze on her.

That gaze had heat warming her cheeks, and not a heat caused by the warmth of the day.

“Have I told you how lovely you look today?”

Her mouth felt remarkably dry. “Um, no, I don't believe you have.”

“Well, you do. Stunning, in fact.”

Incapable of summoning up a response, she simply sat down beside Ming and watched as Grayson began to inspect their lunch. He handed Ming a sandwich—out of her mother's basket, of course—then handed her one, but then . . . he pulled
over the basket she'd prepared, pulled out the sandwich she'd assembled, and moved to sit down right beside her.

Right then and there, Felicia knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was well and truly in love with the man.

She waited with bated breath as he took a bite, thought she heard something crunch as he chewed—which was odd because tomatoes and eggs really weren't supposed to crunch—and then almost dissolved into a puddle of mush right beside him when he swallowed and smiled, not a single trace of a grimace on his face.

“Delicious.”

He was delicious, and she wanted nothing more than to have him lean forward once again and finally kiss her.

Unfortunately, he didn't move forward but simply took another bite of the dreadful sandwich she'd made, even though his eyes had gone somewhat dark.

Perhaps, since she'd been giving him the cold shoulder over the past week, he wasn't aware that she was feeling more charitable toward him.

She leaned ever so slowly in his direction but froze when Ming scooted between them and let out a giggle.

Good heavens, she'd forgotten all about Ming.

Knowing her cheeks had to be bright red, she turned back to her sandwich and struggled to come up with something to say.

“Eliza told me you're taking care of Sam and his sisters.”

“Yes, well, Agatha told me not to bring that up in case you got it into your head, if I proposed again, that I was using the children as a way to soften your heart.”

Her pulse leaped through her veins. “Were you considering proposing again?”

She heard the sound of carriage wheels in the distance, and the buzzing of a bee sounded right by her ear, but Felicia didn't let those distract her as she kept her attention squarely fixed on Grayson.

He set aside the sandwich and leaned forward, almost obscuring Ming from view as her giggles rang out once again, but before he could say anything, or kiss her, for that matter, the sound of the carriage wheels grew unusually loud, and he pulled back from her right before he jumped to his feet.

“Take Ming and run,” he yelled as a carriage pulled up right next to them. The door flung open, and a man jumped out brandishing a pistol, and that pistol was directed right at Ming, who was already nestled in Felicia's arms.

“I do beg your pardon for interrupting what seems to be a most touching scene, but I need to speak with you, Gray, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to do so far away from here. Don't want any of those pesky guards you've been surrounding yourself with to interfere. I'm sure you understand.”

Grayson's hands clenched into fists, and his stance suggested he was about to pounce. “I thought you were dead, Francisco.”

The man let out a hearty laugh, the sound more menacing than amused. “I'm delighted to report that I am not.” He gestured with the pistol toward Ming. “Get in the carriage, and bring Ming with you.”

Was it possible this was Grayson's partner from China? How was it that he was in New York?

Francisco smiled at Felicia, the smile causing pure terror to settle over her. “I won't be needing you, darling—well, not in the carriage.”

He looked up and nodded to the driver of the carriage, a driver who turned out to be a woman. Alarmingly enough, she too was holding a pistol, one that was trained on Grayson. “If any of them make an untoward move, my love, don't hesitate to shoot them. We mustn't forget that Grayson has some rather formidable skills at his disposal, which is why I feel prompted to reveal that I won't balk in the least with shooting any of you, including Ming.”

Grayson's eyes turned dangerous. “In case you've forgotten, she's your daughter.”

“An interesting point, and one that we'll discuss at a later time, once we're well on our way.” Francisco took a step closer to Grayson. “Now then, to the business at hand. You and Ming are going to come with me, and your little lovely here is going to go on an errand for us.”

“Leave Felicia out of this. She has nothing to do with anything regarding China.”

“True, but I need someone to fetch those jewels you so foolishly made off with.” He growled under his breath. “What could you have been thinking? Those jewels are worth a fortune. You couldn't have believed no one would realize you'd taken them with you when you left China so abruptly.”

“I took them for Ming. They are her inheritance, and I was hoping everyone would think I'd been killed along with the rest of the Wu family.”

“But I wasn't killed either, was I? But enough about that for now.” He turned to Felicia. “Do you know where he's stashed the jewels?”

Felicia swallowed. “Ah . . . well, no. Truth be told, I've never even been in his house.”

“Then we shall provide you with directions, my dear, if that's where Gray has hidden the loot.”

“Francisco, let Felicia and Ming go. I'll take you to get the jewels. I don't need or want them, and there's been too much bloodshed as it is. There doesn't need to be more.”

“That remains to be seen, but the jewels aren't the only thing I need. And that is why, again, this lady is going to go fetch them for us.”

Felicia lifted her chin. “I can do it.”

“Felicia, no, you can't.”

She ignored Grayson's protest even as she moved closer to
him. “Just tell me where they are, and I'll go get them.” She looked to Francisco. “Where do you want them delivered?”

“I'll send you a note after I feel sufficient time has been given for you to recover them.”

Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Meaning . . . you're going to have someone trail after me, aren't you?”

“But of course, my dear. That way I'll be certain no one is coming to your rescue, especially that annoying Theodore Wilder, who has been all too diligent in his efforts to figure out why there's been a bit of unusual activity of late surrounding the opium dens.” He smiled. “As an added incentive for you to not pick up any assistance, remember, I'm the one holding the gun, and it would be a shame if Grayson or little Ming would have to suffer from a bullet to the heart because you've done something . . . stupid.” He lifted the hand not holding the pistol and waved it. “Now, hand over the child.”

Her arms instinctively tightened around Ming, who had a death grip around her neck, but the strength of a small child was no match for Francisco. He wrenched Ming away and brought her to the carriage within a span of a few seconds. Someone in the carriage grabbed the child and pulled her inside. Francisco had brought reinforcements.

Grayson took a step forward but froze when Francisco turned the pistol on Felicia. “Careful, Gray. Just because it's handy to have her here to do my bidding doesn't mean she's not disposable, or rather, replaceable.” He smiled yet again. “So, be a good boy and tell her where you've stashed the jewels.”

“I need your word that you won't harm her after she brings them.”

“Fine. For what my word's worth, you have it.”

Grayson and Francisco stared at each other for a moment, and then Grayson gestured her closer. She moved on trembling legs to his side, tears stinging her eyes.

“It'll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing her back.

“I wish I could believe you, but I—”

“No chitchatting,” Francisco barked. “Get on with it before any of those guards come running, not that they can see right now since the carriage is blocking you from their view, but I don't want to take any chances.”

Grayson sent him a glare before returning his attention to her. “I know you've never been in my house, but do you know where it is?”

“Thor and I have driven past it . . . ah . . . well . . . a few times this week.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly. “We'll discuss the reasoning behind that after we get out of this latest bout of trouble, but”—he lowered his voice as he brought his lips next to her ear—“there's a safe hidden behind a horrendous painting of a rather large lady in my house. The combination is 42, 17, 34, 12.”

“42, 17, 34, 12?”

“Exactly. Can you remember that?”

She'd never been good with numbers, but she didn't think mentioning that would be very reassuring to Grayson at that moment. “Perhaps I should write them down.”

Before she had time to blink, Francisco shoved a piece of paper and a pencil at her. She scribbled down the numbers, showed them to Grayson, and when he nodded, drew in a breath and released it. “I'll need to find a ride, but I'll get to Grayson's house as soon as I can.”

Grayson tilted his head. “Take my phaeton. It's parked by my carriage. If anyone asks, just tell them you're fetching something for Ming. No one will think anything of it, considering how proficient you are with the reins.”

Hope was immediate.

Everyone knew she was an abysmal driver, and perhaps someone, anyone, would take notice and realize something was
amiss. All she had to do was pray that someone was discreet and wouldn't draw undue attention from whomever Francisco was going to have follow her.

“I think that's all the time you lovebirds need,” Francisco said cheerfully.

Even though there was so much Felicia felt still needed to be said, she could only watch with tears dribbling down her face as Francisco cocked the pistol and aimed it at Grayson. A second later, Grayson sent her a look filled with something indescribable and climbed into the carriage.

G
rayson settled into the seat and gestured to the Chinese man holding Ming. “Give her to me.”

The man—the same man he'd recognized in the pub— simply looked at him, his expression curiously blank.

Apparently, he'd not been imagining things. His presence in that pub had been noticed, and evidently, he too had been recognized. But did the Chinese want more from him than the jewels, and why was Francisco involved? And how had he escaped the attack against the Wu family?

Francisco flicked a hand toward the man and spoke something in rapid Chinese, whatever he said causing the Chinese man to lean across the space that separated them and thrust Ming onto Grayson's lap. Ming immediately burrowed against him, her little body trembling and not so much as a single sound escaping her lips as the carriage lurched into motion.

The poor child had seemingly been terrorized into silence.

“I imagine you have quite a few questions.”

Grayson patted Ming's head and turned to Francisco. “Just a few.”

“None of this would have been necessary if you'd stayed in China instead of fleeing on the first ship available following the Wu family situation.”

“I hardly think the slaughter of an entire family can be called a ‘situation.'”

Francisco ignored the statement. “Why didn't you just stay?”

“I was fairly certain my life, as well as Ming's, was in danger, since the entire Wu family had been killed.”

“I was a member of the Wu family, yet I wasn't killed.”

“How did you manage to escape?”

Francisco smiled. “I didn't need to escape, considering I helped orchestrate the raid. You being alive today was due to me and my plans, but unfortunately, you did the unthinkable by leaving China—taking Ming with you, and taking the jewels.”

“You helped orchestrate the deaths of dozens of people?”

“That I did. But I also arranged for that captain to keep you late at your office, which ensured you would live.” Francisco released a grunt. “Feel free to thank me at your leisure.”

“You believe I should thank you, even though you're responsible for killing Lin?”

“But of course you should thank me. It was on my order that she was a specific target. I arranged her death so that you could finally be free of her.”

Grayson could only sit there, stunned, as horror robbed him of speech. Francisco's admission was unthinkable and . . . evil. He swallowed past the bile that had risen in his throat and then cleared it. “Why would you have done such a thing?”

“Lin was a hag, and you deserved better. She wasn't a real wife to you, and now, well, you're well rid of her.”

“I never wanted her dead.”

Francisco shrugged. “Well, she is, and there's nothing I can do about that now.”

“And what about Mei? Your own wife . . . the mother of your child.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“Why?”

“Money, of course.”

“Wu Wah Hing paid you handsomely.”

“Yes, he did. There was just the pesky little problem of him wanting me dead.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Wu Wah Hing had put out the word he wanted my head on a platter. I wasn't willing to part with my head, being rather fond of it, you see, so I put into motion a plan of my own.”

“You murdered an entire family.”

“
I
didn't murder them.
I
only gave pertinent information—such as drawings of every building, schedules, and the number of people residing in the Wu compound—to members of the Zang family. They took care of everything from there.”

“You were in league with the Zang family?”

“Indeed, but I'll explain how that came to be later. We've arrived at the docks.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop, and Grayson had no choice but to get out, holding Ming tightly as he climbed down. Apprehension was immediate when he saw a ship right in front of them, a ship that had numerous Chinese sailors swarming around it.

“After you,” Francisco said with a wave of his pistol.

Grayson followed the woman who'd been driving the carriage across the docks. What was a lady with fair skin and red hair doing mixed up with the Chinese? He didn't have long to wonder. When they reached the boat and began walking up the
plank, Francisco said, “Darling, do run and tell everyone I've returned, won't you?”

The lady glanced over her shoulder, sent Francisco a nod and a smile, and then hurried forward and soon disappeared.

“She's my wife.”

“Didn't take you long to replace Mei, did it.”

To his surprise, Francisco laughed. “Ah, my old friend, there are still so many things you don't understand.”

Slipping on the wet surface, Grayson steadied himself and held Ming a little tighter. As he stepped onto the deck, he wondered if he was going to make it out alive, and what Felicia would do when she realized he'd given her the wrong combination to his safe.

He'd done so in order to protect her, while at the same time he'd hoped that Mr. Blackheart would be following closely, careful to remain undetected. He'd keep Felicia safe.

Now all Grayson had to figure out was how to escape Francisco and keep himself and Ming alive.

Francisco directed him into a cabin and gestured to a chair. Grayson took a seat and arranged Ming on his lap. “How did you find me?”

Walking over to a table bolted to the floor, Francisco took a moment to pick up a decanter filled with an amber liquid, poured out two glasses, moved to hand Grayson one of the glasses, and then sat down in another chair. He took a sip of his drink and smiled. “You've led me on a merry chase, Gray, not one I appreciate, by the way. Once we were finally able to sail from China, I went to England, figuring you'd return home, but discovered you'd already taken off.”

He shook his head. “Your house in London is impressive, and I was somewhat taken aback when I learned you have numerous estates throughout the country. Finding out you were in America was slightly confusing. If I've learned one thing about you, my
friend, it's that you thrive on the challenge of business. What more profitable business could there be than that of estates you already own?”

“Surely we have more important matters to discuss than what I've chosen to do with my estates back in England, Francisco.”

Francisco settled back in his chair. “I was simply curious, that's all, but if it's a sensitive topic, by all means, what would you care to discuss instead?”

“You mentioned you wanted something besides the jewels.”

Francisco took another sip of his drink, set it aside on a nearby table, and sat forward. “I want Ming, of course.”

Felicia wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve and stifled the urge to run through the crowd screaming. Not wanting to be stopped by family or friends, all of whom would most likely notice something was decidedly wrong, she skirted around the crowd and made for the parked carriages and horses, her pace slowing slightly as she caught sight of Mr. Blackheart out of the corner of her eye. When it appeared he was heading directly her way, she gave a tiny shake of her head, keeping her gaze forward even as she prayed he would see the shake.

She looked around the conveyances that were lined up in a row, picking Grayson's phaeton out a moment later. Summoning up a smile, she strode over to it and moved to stand in front of the coachman, who was polishing the side of the phaeton with a cloth.

“May I help you, miss?”

She drew in a breath and quickly released it. “Mr. Sumner has given me permission to borrow this phaeton, so I'll need you to step aside.”

The coachman blinked. “I'm afraid I can't allow you to simply take off with Mr. Sumner's property without him giving me his approval.”

Frustration flowed freely. She lifted her chin, glanced to the right, and saw two Chinese men watching her as they leaned against a tree a few yards away. She chanced a glance in the other direction, and relief edged over her when she spotted Mr. Blackheart, already on his horse, casually speaking to a pretty lady who was twirling a parasol. If she hadn't come to know the gentleman quite well, she would have sworn he was just a man enjoying the attention of a lady, not the trained and quite dangerous guard she knew he really was.

Feeling better because she was not totally alone, she returned her attention to the coachman. “I really am going to have to insist you stand aside.”

The coachman's eyes went wide. “Are you threatening me?”

Felicia blinked. “Well . . . no, er . . . yes, yes I am threatening you, because I am Mr. Sumner's fiancée, and if you don't step aside, I'll be forced to inform him about your disappointing behavior.”

“I didn't hear Mr. Sumner was engaged.”

“He just asked me today, in the park, right after he bid on my basket.” She forced a smile. “He paid two hundred dollars for it.”

“Mr. Sumner is the one who bought that basket?” the coachman asked before he shook his head. “That must have been some lunch, but . . . I'm not certain I should allow you to take the phaeton. It's incredibly fast, and you're just a tiny little lady.”

“I've driven it before, over to Mrs. Beckett's house.” She lifted her chin. “Mr. Sumner was surprised by my driving abilities.”

The coachman still appeared reluctant, so taking matters into her own hands, Felicia brushed past him, climbed up and into the phaeton, grabbed the reins in a less-than-practiced hand, and gave them a flick, causing the coachman to leap out of the way as the horses bolted into motion.

The speed she quickly obtained had her falling back against the seat as she thundered down street after street, calling out
apologies one after another as she left mayhem in her wake. She finally took to talking to God, out loud, with her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears, asking Him to keep Grayson and Ming safe, while at the same time keeping her from running over any people.

She soon found herself barreling down Fifth Avenue and wondered how she was going to get Grayson's horses to stop, but much to her amazement, they slowed down on their own, veered to the right, and stopped directly in front of his house. A groom came running toward her, and she took his hand and on trembling legs climbed down and glanced around the street.

She didn't see Francisco's men, or Mr. Blackheart, but that wasn't too surprising. Her mad dash through the city had been quite erratic. She would have been difficult to follow.

Sending the groom a nod, she hurried up the steps to Grayson's home and found the butler already standing with the door open, watching her warily. She forced another smile, but her smile dimmed when the butler looked down his nose at her and informed her that Mr. Sumner was not at home, right before he began to shut the door.

She had to find the jewels, and she had to do so quickly. So in desperation, she stuck out her foot and bit back a yelp when the door caught it. The butler's eyes widened considerably when she pushed past him, entered the house, and began running from room to room, looking for a painting of an ugly lady.

Unfortunately, Grayson's house was filled with such paintings, and she couldn't help stomping her foot, just once, in frustration when she peered behind yet another painting of an unattractive woman and found absolutely nothing.

“I've just convinced the butler you're not a lunatic on the loose, so I don't think he's going to summon the police, but you should probably hurry with whatever it is you're doing.”

Felicia jumped straight up into the air, landed back on her
feet, brought her hand to her chest, and gawked at Mr. Blackheart. “How did you get in here? Good heavens, do you think anyone saw you?”

Mr. Blackheart let out a grunt. “I didn't come in through the front door. If you'll recall, I'm good at scaling trees.”

“If you climbed in through a window, how were you able to calm down the butler? Didn't he find it odd you didn't come through the front door?”