Love Between the Lines

Love Between the Lines

Kate Rothwell

LOVE BETWEEN THE LINES

Copyright © 2013 Kate Rothwell

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Cover Artist: Angela Waters

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places
, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thanks to Linda,
and with enormous gratitude to Susan G. This one is mostly for the amazing Toni Lee because it wouldn’t have happened without her.

1883 New York, New York

By ten a.m., the ragged diner near the docks had finished its morning rush.
Gideon pulled out a seat at a table, dragging the chair over the sawdust-strewn floor. He nodded at Brinker, his man, who reluctantly took a seat across from him.

The look and smell of the place reminded Gideon of his native Liverpool and brought him back to his days as a waterfront reporter.

Though Gideon almost enjoyed the scent of low living and mud, Brinker made it clear he did not. Those elegant nostrils flared as a brute of a worker pushed past their table on his way to the counter. No doubt the diner customer stank of tar and river sludge like nearly every man on the docks.

Poor Brinker.
The gentleman’s personal gentleman made it clear he thought Gideon occasionally sullied his recently acquired elevation in life.

In Gideon
’s opinion, the wrong man had come into a title—even if it was a puny title hardly worth a mention. Brinker, with his impeccable manners and reverence for Debrett’s, should have been the new baronet.

The brute returned from the counter, a cup of coffee clutched in a fist the size of
a cannonball. He found a table near the door and glowered through the grimy window at the world outside. Then his frown faded—for a brief moment, his mouth twitched into a smile. Gideon twisted to see what had caused the fleeting response. The hulk watched a man and a woman as they entered the restaurant. The big man’s fleeting smile had to be for the young female.

The girl had a slender figure and wore an unfashionable green gown that must have been made for a larger woman.
Her light brown hair was sliding from the bun at the back of her head. She looked the picture of the worn traveler just off one of the ships. Yet she was attractive enough—one of those girls fresh from the country, he supposed, with clear skin and large blue eyes that sparkled with excitement.

She carried a portmanteau and nervously picked her way around the empty tables and chairs, following her companion. The thin gentleman led her to a table in the quiet far corner across the room from the bulky worker.

The girl newly arrived in the big city, taking it all in.

She was taken in as well, Gideon suspected, as he examined the man she accompanied. Something about the overdressed man seemed far too slick. It wasn
’t just his waxed mustaches, or the suit shiny at the elbows and garishly tight trousers. He wore the natural ebullience of a salesman selling something more dangerous than snake oil. Gideon saw other signs of danger. The man hadn’t traveled with her, wasn’t truly a companion, or he’d be carrying that bag of hers. And there was the undeniable fact that a girl that young and pretty didn’t belong in this place.

Gideon straightened up. The ever-alert Brinker shuffled his own chair slightly to move out of the way and to get a better view himself.

Under his mustaches, the dark-haired thin man scowled at Gideon, who half shrugged in return. The man picked up his mug of deplorable coffee, pulled the newspaper from his overcoat pocket, and pretended to read.

A public place. That man wouldn
’t try anything here, would he? Gideon got out his pad and pencil and sketched a profile of the man. The eyetooth that slightly overlapped the one next to it. The nose that ended too soon and the smile that took up just a bit too much of his face under the mustache.

He wished he could move his chair so he
’d see the girl better. The side view was in darkness. From his stealthy glances, he saw she was even more attractive than he’d first thought, though perhaps not as young. And somehow she had a familiar look to her. She must remind him of someone. A girl back in England? Someone’s sweet younger sister he’d met on school holiday?

She laughed at something the thin man said. But there was nothing suggestive in that laughter or in the enchanting large eyes—only the innocent flirtation of a sheltered girl.

She excused herself and apparently wasn’t so completely the lost lamb, because she took her bag with her.

Gideon held up
his newspaper but peered around the edge. The girl’s thin companion was stirring her coffee.
Hers
. And then he quickly slipped something into his pocket. A screw of paper, perhaps.

Gideon leaned close to Brinker and muttered
, “I think he’s done something to her drink.”

Brinker would never heave a sigh, but perhaps he gave an exhalation that was slightly deeper than usual. Gideon had been about to leave the
café, but now he stayed in his chair. Waiting. Watching, while pretending to read.

In the far corner, the big brute had finished his coffee and had pulled his workman
’s cap down, covering part of his face. He appeared to be dozing, yet something about his shoulders seemed too tense. Was he in league with the oily man?

After the girl returned, she carefully pushed her satchel under the table and sat. She raised her mug of coffee.

Gideon got to his feet, ready to speak even if he did sound like a fool. Hell, maybe it was poison. But before he could open his mouth, she put down the cup and he saw she
’d drained it. He sat again and frowned at Brinker. Perhaps he’d only imagined the danger to the girl, but he’d take at least an hour to find out. He suspected that if the man had slipped a drug into her drink, it wouldn’t take long to work.

“
Keep your eyes open, eh?” he told Brinker. Gideon shook out the paper and began to scan the articles. Most of them were just as lackadaisical as the stuff back home. All reports about reports, no immediacy. His excuse to travel to New York had been to find new blood for his papers. The list of possible hires grew shorter all the time.

“
Sir,” Brinker murmured. Gideon folded up the paper at once.

The girl tottered to her feet. She swayed, hitting her table.
A plate clattered to the floor and broke. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Her words sounded slurred.

Gideon glanced around the room. Wasn
’t anyone else going to do anything?

The big man wasn
’t pretending to sleep. He’d pushed his cap back and even watched, but he had a bored look on his face. His arms were folded over his massive chest. The two apathetic waiters didn’t move. One leaned against the wall studying a racing form. The other dreamily smoked a cigar. Gideon had thought himself used to the indifference of a big city, but he was shocked by their lack of interest.

The girl reached down for her bag. When she straightened, she groaned.
“Oh my.”

The thin man put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. She lurched and made a small protesting sound.
He grinned around the restaurant, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Whoops. Long voyage,” he announced in a loud, overly cheery voice. He began to haul her toward the door. Her feet dragged every step as she stumbled along.

The man pulled her faster and spoke again to no one
. “She’ll be just fine. We’ll get to the hotel—”

But Gideon had leapt from his chair and walked quickly in his direction. Brinker had already blocked the exit.
“Let go of her,” Gideon said. “Now.”

The thin man growled.
“Get away. It’s none of your affair.”

Gideon spoke in a loud voice, so everyone in the small restaurant could hear him. Damn them for not caring, but they
’d be witnesses anyway. “No, I think it is. I saw what you did to her coffee.”

For a moment
, the whole place froze as if everyone in the room, the two waiters, the big man in the corner, even the woman, held their breath.

With a grunt of a curse, the man pushed the woman hard in Gideon
’s direction. He shoved the astonished Brinker out of the way and ran out the door.

Gideon reached for the girl to grab her as she fell. Her face slammed against his shoulder. She gave a yelp. And suddenly she wasn
’t falling.

She was on her own two feet, glaring at him.
“Darn, darn. Oh,
damn
it.” She twisted away. “Oyster. You follow him, right?”

The bruiser from the corner was already halfway out the door.
“Right-o. But he’s fast. I still got the bum knee.”

“
Good luck,” the girl said and watched him go. The door slammed behind him and she sighed. “Bah. That’s that. I never thought I’d get another chance and now it’s kaput. No possibility they’ll ever be so careless again.” She rubbed her cheek where she’d landed on Gideon’s shoulder. Her blue eyes still sparkled as she looked him over. “You are a real pain in the neck, mister, you know that?”

“
Forgive me,” he said. “If I’d understood you wished to be abducted, I wouldn’t have interfered, but how was I to know you are a reckless idiot and not an innocent one?”

And then she smiled. A wide grin showing white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek. That smile knocked his already befuddled brain into a full gallop of stunned confusion.
Gideon just blinked at her. He was not used to being the one fooled and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Although… He didn’t think he hated it.

She made a soft tsk.
“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry to curse at you when you were only being a good Samaritan. I don’t expect that in these parts. Heck, I should know better. Our pal should have too. The trick is to wait until the place is really dead or completely jammed.” That wide smile looked knowing. Not a trace of innocence in that lovely face now.

“
Thanks,” she said to the glum waiter who’d ambled over at last. She pulled a bag from her pocket and extracted some coins. “Sorry about the plate. I added twenty-five cents to the usual.”

“
No more of this usual. No more of your stuff in here,” he said. “I don’t like you chasing out regular customers.”

“
Aw, I pay you enough. Anyway, how was I to know these two were too alert? And you hear the way they talk.” She directed her smile at Brinker. “They’re not just Brits; they’re upper-crust English. Regulars at this joint they’re not, Bill.” She reached up and pulled off her hat. Then she removed the brown wig. Underneath, her hair was short, curly, and very black. A peculiar too-dashing hairstyle for a woman, but Gideon saw it suited her delicate features.

He forced himself to stop goggling at her and found his voice.
“Who the hell are you?” But he suspected he already knew. No wonder she looked familiar. She was one of the ones on that short list of his. Trudy Tildon falling almost into his lap.

He gestured to the empty chair.
“Won’t you take a seat while you wait for your, ah, companion’s return and tell me what is going on?”

She sat as ladylike as you please, straight-backed at the edge of her seat.
She made a face. “Forgot,” she said and, reaching into the portmanteau, pulled out a jar wrapped in cloth. Then, with a dexterous yank, she pulled a stained cloth from her voluminous sleeve. She shoved the damp brown cloth into the jar. The drugged coffee, of course.

“
Are you with the authorities?” he asked. Brinker shot him a look of disgust. He must have recognized her too. The waiter came over with new mugs of coffee.

“
I’m not against them,” she said. “I’m trying to write a story.”

Gideon couldn
’t believe his luck. She really was the woman he wanted—and she was as much of a fearless fool as he’d suspected. She’d be perfect. “A story?”

“
Article. Piece.” She pushed a cork in the jar, wrapped it up in the cloth, and shoved the bundle back in the bag.

“
And what will you do with that?” He indicated the bag.

“
I have a chemist friend who’ll figure out what they’re using in the coffee.”

“
Why don’t you just let the police take care of it?”

“
I’m not stopping them.” She sipped the fresh cup of coffee. “Heck, I even count on ’em now and again. But I’d be stupid to let the big story go to anyone else.”

He leaned back and folded his arms, trying to hide his amused interest.
“Why?”

“
Why do you care?”

He smiled.
“I think you owe me something for ruining my Sir Galahad moment.”

She grinned back.
“I suppose I do. The story will sell. It has all the trappings to snare the audience. Innocent young girls alone in the world, no protectors, snatched off the streets.” She shut her mouth suddenly and eyed him.

Before she could ask him questions, he slipped in one of his own.
“And will you write about today’s events?”

She put down the coffee.
“I don’t know. I don’t want whoever’s doing this to suspect what I’m up to,” she said slowly. “I don’t think it’s just the one person, and I’m going to find who’s behind it.” She put her hand to her chest. “Say, who did you say you are? I’m still so jangly from that episode, I’ve been talking on and on.”

“
It’s quite all right.” He leaned forward to get her attention. She was staring at Brinker.