Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (5 page)

Either way, James Kent would pay.

Crossing her arms she let out a growl, and dropped into a padded seat in the dressing room. The blue-striped silk gown spilled in an awkward puddle around her.

If she had to stay here all night, at least the room, with three overstuffed sofas and two chaise lounges, seemed comfortable. Happy daffodils and nodding white snowdrops perfumed the air. A potted grape hyacinth, with its triangular tower of blue flowers, stood just to the side of a large mirror, and the extra fabric from the brown velvet curtains pooled like rich, melted chocolate on the floor.

“Oh!”

Ellen turned at the little yelp to find Priscilla Conti, a hand to her heart, in the doorway. Priscilla flushed clear to her thick, black curls. “So sorry. I thought the room would be empty. Didn’t we meet outside at the top of the hour?”

Tears pricked Ellen’s eyes as she tipped her head to look at Priscilla’s dusky complexion. The girl appeared to be about her age. Priscilla’s almond-shaped eyes were so dark they almost seemed black, and her full lips pouted out her pity.

Ellen expelled a breath, tossing up the curls near her forehead that were going flat. “I’m waiting for my escort. He hasn’t arrived yet.”

Popping her hands onto her corseted waist, Priscilla commandeered a seat in a more elegant manner than Ellen had plopped into hers. She patted Ellen’s arm. “I’m sure there is a reason your knight has been detained. I take it you two didn’t arrive together?”

At that, Ellen rubbed her now leaky nose. “My knight? Ha. James escorts me out of obligation.”

Priscilla unsnapped the fan from around her wrist. An intricate design of purple flowers matched her impressive dress. “A girl as pretty as you? This cannot be true.”

“He’s my brother’s best friend, and since my brother’s away right now and I know no one in Chicago, James is stuck with me.”

Priscilla’s eyebrows jumped into her hairline. “Did you arrive tonight unchaperoned?”

Ellen squeezed Priscilla’s buff-gloved hand. “No, no. Nothing as dismal as that. My aunt and uncle are here.”

“Your problem is solved then. Tell me their names and I’ll fetch your uncle. He can escort you from the dressing room to the party. Then you are welcome to come with me, my parents are well connected and can introduce you to everyone.”

“No, I don’t want to enter on my uncle’s arm.” Ellen balled her fists. “Oh! I hate propriety. Why is it a gentleman can come and go as he pleases, but a lady must wait in the dressing room until she’s escorted to the ballroom? Maybe I should go in on my own and see what happens. For once I’d like to be daring.”

A female servant entered and gave a small bow. “A gentleman outside asks if there is a Miss Ingram present.”

After a wave and a promise to locate Priscilla later, Ellen left the women’s dressing room. James leaned one arm on a side table as he feigned interest in a Chinese sculpture that looked somewhat like a teal dog. When he saw her, he straightened to his unforgiveable height. As he extended his left arm his lips pressed together in a tentative smile and his green gaze searched hers.

Blast his handsome face! Even when he was a teen yanking her hair and tossing things into her soup, that sheepish smile never failed to prompt her forgiveness.

Resting her hand upon the crook of his arm, she gritted her teeth. “You, sir, are late.”

“You, half-pint, look beautiful. The blue in your dress matches your eyes to perfection.”

She pinched the inner side of his arm
. Hard.

In a stealth movement, he clamped his free hand over the top of hers, pressing so her fingers couldn’t dig into his skin, all while inclining his head as they passed people on their way to greet the host and hostess.

“I was being honest. I think you look nice.” He spoke out of the side of his mouth, his eyes trained ahead of him. Ellen noticed a smudge of black along his jaw.

She smiled at a group of young people as they passed. “Aunt Louisa says that flattery is the first sure sign of a lack of mental resources. Tell me why you were late.” She arched her eyebrow.

“My errand ran long.”

“An errand that dirtied your gloves and left a smear of soot along your cheek?”

Letting go of her hand, he palmed the clean side of his face. After rolling her eyes, Ellen rubbed at the spot with her gloved thumb until it disappeared. Applying spit would have made the process quicker, but she thought better of that.

They stepped forward in the receiving line. A gentleman, who had to be Mr. Cobb but looked like a painting of Saint Nicholas that mother put on display around Christmas time, gave James a handshake. Santa then turned to smile at Ellen. “And who might this pretty lady be?”

She extended her hand. “Ellen Ingram, sir. I believe my aunt, Louisa Danby, claims the honor of a friendship with your wife.”

Silas Cobb chuckled and grabbed his wife’s elbow. “Maria, dear, this is Louisa’s niece.”

After greeting a few more people and squeezing hands with Aunt Louisa, they entered the high-ceilinged ballroom. Ellen gaped at the number of couples on the floor.

James gave her hand a pat. “Shall we? If memory serves me right, I get your first dance tonight.”

Ellen began to speak, but Priscilla appeared at her side.

“Miss Ingram, I looked everywhere for you. There are some people—” Her voice dropped off and her smile fell when James turned to join the conversation.

Color drained from his face. “Prissy?”

Ellen looked back and forth between the pair. “You two know each other?”

Priscilla extended her hand. “Come with me, Miss Ingram, there are so many people to meet.”

Without a moment’s pause, Ellen untangled herself from James and followed her new acquaintance. A part of her wanted to look back over her shoulder, but to what end? To see if he appeared sad that she left? It didn’t matter.

He missed the first dance an hour ago.

James narrowed his gaze and watched Ellen smiling at Carter Hurst. The man had no right escorting her to the dinner portion of the ball. Not when James escorted her here … well … was
supposed
to escort her here. Anyway, Carter looked ridiculous with such a young girl on his arm. Why, he graduated in the same class at university as James.

Biting back a growl, James fisted his hands and dug them into his armpits. A public display on his part wouldn’t improve the situation.

Carter touched Ellen’s shoulder as he placed a plateful of sandwiches, cold meat, and salad on the table in front of her. Ellen leaned forward, whispered something and giggled. Those wide blue eyes fringed with heavy black lashes blinked at Carter as she lowered her chin. She traced her fingers over the white table linen.

Was she…? No, she couldn’t be.

James felt the vein in his neck throb.

In a flash she snatched a chocolate from Carter’s plate. He grabbed her hand and seized the chocolate back
with his lips
. A becoming crimson flamed across Ellen’s cheeks. Her movements brought attention to that kissable dent at the center of her collarbone.

The flirt.

Waging war between the desire to wrench Ellen away and the urge to clock Carter across the temple, James decided against both. She wanted a quick wedding and if she continued to behave in that fashion, she’d be guaranteed one.

He turned to leave, then stopped and glanced back at the pair.

Although … he’d have to warn her to show more reserve. Even a foolish man didn’t want such an eager woman. Not for keeps, at least.

Carter, with his suave ways and golf-caddie looks, didn’t deserve her.

No doubt about it, though, Ellen wouldn’t listen if James tried to set her straight. He could see her now, stomping her foot and growing cross-eyed angry with him. Looking so confounded adorable that he’d fall for her harder than he already had.

Yes. In love with his best friend’s little sister. If anyone decided to fire up the ‘chump’ brander, he’d roll up his sleeve and have the word seared right across his arm. Or heart. They could take their pick.

He’d stayed around at first because he needed a place to call home and because of his friendship with Lewis. But anymore … well, he’d be lying not to admit his presence around the Ingram family had more to do with that raven-haired pipsqueak than anything else.

Carter Hurst didn’t deserve her. Then again, neither did James.

Backing out of the room, he bumped into Hugh who gave him a knowing look. James returned a discreet nod and pushed past people in the crush of the ballroom. Not that he wanted to be a part of the Cygnus Brotherhood’s dealings, but Hugh had asked him to keep an ear open.

Besides, no one else needed or wanted him around.

Find Downing, find Downing, find Downing
. The words pounded with each footfall. With hawk-like precision, he scanned the area for an individual with a ruddy complexion and ruddier hair. When James spotted the man he squinted, zeroing in.

Downing leaned against an alcove, tapping his finger on his glass in time with the polka the orchestra played. Tonight, even the man’s bulbous nose glowed red. The polished buttons of his evening coat strained in a war against his stomach.

James tried to find a seat or some reason to remain in the area. He turned in two aimless circles when a hand on his arm stopped him.

Ellen’s aunt held his elbow in a vise. “Mr. Kent, as I see you are without a partner, might I ask a favor?” Saying no was clearly not an option if he intended on living to see dawn break.

He nodded.

“Go ask my friend’s daughter to dance. She’s been overlooked all night and could use some masculine encouragement to wiggle her out of her shell.”

Wiggling wasn’t really his thing, but Mrs. Danby flicked her fan to point out an unfortunate creature wearing a matron-appropriate dress buttoned clear to her chin. But worse, in a time when the ideal female possessed slight angled shoulders, healthy hips, and a miniscule waist, the girl before him looked more like the overstuffed cherubs in old-style paintings. She tapped her toe … out of rhythm.

Saints save him! If not them, then something else. A freak earthquake would be nice or a herd of man-eating lions.

James sucked in a fortifying breath. “What’s her name?”

“That’s Hattie Prisimon. And whatever you do, don’t tell her I put you up to it.”

After subjecting himself to a dance—if dragging and being repeatedly stepped on could be named that—for a span of seven minutes, while Hattie looked at the floor without answering any of his questions, James returned to his post only to find….

Downing had disappeared.

Chicago, April 27, 1886

Ellen ran through the advice her aunt offered on the ride to the party.
Allow your actions to go before your feelings if a man has social standing and is worth catching. To make a name among the women, you must listen all night for useful information. They like nothing better than to hear tidbits of private conversation that you overhear.

How helpful to have a relative who knew how to behave in society.

Ellen set her senses on high alert as she peeked about the room and tilted her head to listen for noteworthy exchanges to pass on.

So far the best data she’d gleaned—
Mrs. Worth had corns
—didn’t add up to much. That, and Sofia Wrigley wished for a puppy. Not the type of scandals she hoped to use to gain influential friends.

Carter patted her hand and leaned close to whisper. “What are you hoping to see?”

Startled, she felt heat rush to her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“It looks like you’re checking behind the potted plants for fairies.” His laugh came out rich and melodic.

“Nothing as strange as that, although if there were fairies and I discovered them I’d be the talk of the town.” Ellen peeked under the table for good measure.

Granting her an all tooth smile, he cupped her shoulders. “Yes, they’d talk you right into the asylum. Be honest, I see you scanning the room. Don’t tell me there’s another man?” He pulled her closer to him than propriety usually would allow. “Do I need to dust off my dueling pistols?”

Well, James, but he didn’t count. She shook her head. “There’s no one else.”

“Good.” He ran his hands down her arms, sending a shiver through her. “You are a singular girl. I’m enjoying tonight in a way I didn’t think was possible and I believe it’s entirely your fault.” He took her hand, bowing over it.

“Do you truly have dueling pistols?”

“No, but it sounded very brave, didn’t it?”

They stood together, pointing at the other couples and joking until the next song began and Priscilla waved at them.

Carter ran his fingers over his jaw. “I promised Prissy earlier that I’d dance with her. I do hate to give you up, though. Say you’ll wait for me?” His eyebrows lifted.

Ellen grinned, bobbing her head.

Who knew finding a husband would be so easy?

Releasing her hand, Carter moved to make good on his offer to dance with Priscilla. Glad for the chance to break away for a moment so she could listen in on conversations like Aunt had instructed, Ellen found a set of doors that led to a large balcony. A few people stood near the edge, sipping coffee and gazing out toward the lake. She stepped to join them but a slight movement along the wall near some potted trees captured her attention.

A woman pressed against a man in the darkness, whispering close to his ear. Madame De Molineus would have urged Ellen to avert her eyes, but this particular clandestine meeting could be just the tittle-tattle that soared her straight into the best drawing rooms in Chicago.

With a moderate amount of caution, Ellen eased her way against the wall until she could make out some of the couple’s words. She crouched behind a statue.

The busty woman wearing green purred. “It isn’t up to you any longer, Mr. Jackson. You
will
be present and you
will
put your qualms aside.”

“I feel I’m left no ch-choice.” Mr. Jackson grabbed the woman by the shoulders.

The lady in green ran her fingertips down his chest, tucking a piece of paper into his waistband—Ellen gulped—before giving his cheek two quick pats and flouncing away.