Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(55)

“I-I’m nervous,” I stammered with what I hoped was a shy expression. “About tonight.”

“Ah, I understand.” Mama tapped the side of her nose. “Well, I will call Mary in to finish your hair.”

“Yes, fine.” I waved her away, too lost in my thoughts to care about her satisfied smirk.

“Miss Fitt,” Clarence murmured, bowing when I greeted him in my family’s parlor. The dim, yellow glow of the gas lamps layered him in flickering shadows, hiding the haggard expression I knew he wore.

“You look simply stunning,” he added.

“Thank you, Mr. Wilcox.” The dress was a lavender silk lined with white lace and miniature roses, and it trailed at least three feet behind me. It did enhance my plain looks to a passable pretty. But no matter how much it flattered my figure, it could never be worth the three hundred dollars Mama had paid for it—or rather had bought on credit.

“You look nice as well,” I told Clarence with a wave to his crisp black suit and gleaming patent leather shoes.

He offered me his elbow, and I hooked my arm in his. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he gracefully escorted me to the carriage.

A rough breeze kicked at my curls, and I pulled my black velvet cloak tightly to me. Rain would ruin my elaborate hair and cover the gown’s train in mud. And how will rain affect the Spirit-Hunters’ mission?

I nodded to Willis, who sat with the driver on the back of the Wilcox carriage. He tipped his hat.

Clarence swung open the carriage door and hefted me in. I started when three leering faces emerged in the darkness before me.

Clarence guided me to a seat, plopped on the bench across from me, and slammed the door shut. “I took your advice, Miss Fitt” he said. “Allow me to introduce my newest guards.”

I squinted to see them. They were tough-looking men. Though all three wore shiny top hats, they looked more like men one would find patrolling the streets at night. Broad shoulders, bushy mustaches, and stiff postures.

“They’re Pinkertons,” Clarence said. “The best of the best.”

“Ah.” The Pinkerton National Detective Agency was well-known for its top-notch private security. Its motto was We Never Sleep. Even President Lincoln had hired them. Although, that hadn’t worked well for him in the end.

“How appropriate,” I murmured in a syrupy voice. “The men who never sleep to guard the man who never sleeps.”

Clarence laughed hollowly. “Well, perhaps now I can sleep.” He slouched back in his seat and rested his hands behind his head. “I’ve also decided to send Mother and Allison on a trip to our seaside cottage. They are at home packing as we speak. You were right to suggest more protection, Miss Fitt. Why, I haven’t felt this at ease in two weeks!”

So the Wilcox women were not ill at all. The carriage rattled to a start. None of the Pinkertons moved or even flinched.

“I’m glad I could help,” I said dryly.

“Yes. It’s wonderful to relax.” Clarence’s tone was light, and he was almost like his old charming self. If three stone-faced guards weren’t with us in the carriage, I might have enjoyed him again.

As if in response to my musings, Clarence said, “I must admit, Miss Fitt, I actually enjoy your company.”

My eyebrows darted up. “You sound as if this surprises you. Some people do like me, you know.”

He only laughed again. “Yes, yes, of course. Pardon me—I merely meant that although you have a vexing habit of never acting quite as I expect, I still enjoy my time with you. Perhaps that’s precisely why I like you... or perhaps it’s because you are the only person who knows of my situation. Either way, it makes your mother happy to have me around, and it makes my mother happy to see me showing such interest in a young lady—even one such as yourself.”

“Honestly, Mr. Wilcox, do you hear yourself? You insult me at every turn.”

He grinned and leaned toward me, setting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, and you’re a wonderful sport about it.”

I sighed dramatically. “Are we still going to the opera?”

“Of course. And these men will be joining us. The three extra tickets shan’t go to waste.”

“Oh.”

We descended into silence. This evening was turning out far different than I’d imagined. I couldn’t even dream of escape—not with those Pinkertons there.

I tried to concentrate on something else, to lose myself in the clack of the horses’ hooves, the rattle of the wheels, and—land sakes! Snoring!

I leaned forward and peered at Clarence in the darkness. The man had fallen asleep. I wilted back onto my seat, and the Pinkerton nearest me said, “I reckon he’s tired. Don’t wake him.”

Pshaw. I glared at the man and then turned my stare out the window. Why had Clarence even bothered to take me out if he intended to sleep the entire time? As intriguing as he might have been, a sleeping companion was utterly useless. I doubted our mothers would be particularly pleased to know he’d left me to make conversation with the Pinkertons.

A quarter of an hour passed, and we clattered to a stop on Arch Street. Clarence twitched to life and dragged himself from the carriage. He tugged me out with him, and I fought the urge to resist. As he spoke to Willis and the driver, I hugged my cloak tight and glanced around.