Page 38 of The Gilded Heiress

He was infuriatingly calm, not to mention impossible to read. “I don’t know. I get the sense you’re here on a fishing expedition.”

“Now, what in the blue blazes would I be fishing for?”

“You tell me.”

Ambrose gave me a wide grin, his eyes twinkling. “You are doggedly determined, Miss Smith. I like it. Is it wrong to want

to get to know the woman who has stolen the heart of my best friend?”

“Best friend?” I asked skeptically.

“One of them, anyway.” Ambrose drained the rest of his tea and stood. “I must be off. Give my regards to Leo, will you?”

Returning to the table, he found my hand and brought it to his lips. He gave me the briefest of kisses, his mustache tickling

my skin. “Adieu, dear Miss Smith.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

He slapped his derby on his head and strolled out the front door. I stared at the closed wood and drank my tea. How odd. Ambrose

was such a strange fellow. Stopping by and not even waiting for Leo’s return.

Suddenly, I realized that he hadn’t carried any clothes with him when he left.

Leo

I was nearly bursting with anticipation when I came through the door of Ambrose’s apartment. I’d held off on reading the letter

the baby nurse supposedly wrote my father until Josie and I could look at it together.

I found her at the kitchen table, with a stack of newspapers in front of her. She glanced up as I came in, her lips curling into a welcoming smile. Everything inside me calmed at the sight of her here, and I couldn’t prevent the grin as I removed my hat. “Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“Strange.”

She rose and came over to me. Before I could ask why, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me on the mouth. She met

my tongue with hers, boldly invading, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed returning to a place this much.

Probably never.

I kissed her hard, forgetting everything else except her taste and the feel of her breath on my skin. I held her close, my

hands at her waist, and her palms landed on my chest. My head swam, my body responding as the seconds expanded, and I tilted

my head to deepen the angle. She rewarded me by sighing into my mouth, and I stroked her tongue with flicks and swirls. I

hoped to be doing the same to her pussy shortly...

When she pulled away, her breath was labored. “Goodness. You are happy to return, it seems.”

“I’m happy to see you . And I have something to show you.”

“I also have something to show.” She angled toward the table and cast out her arm. “Melvin sent me these shows to review.”

“Review?” I drew closer to the newsprint to see. “Why?”

“These are the shows either about to open or recasting a major role. He wants me to see what strikes my fancy.”

“He must feel confident about getting you whichever part you decide on.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t say. His note didn’t elaborate.” She lowered herself into one of the chairs. “Now tell me what has

you in such a tizzy.”

“Let me sit first. Would you like a drink? We could open one of Ambrose’s bottles of wine.”

“Yes, please. Speaking of Ambrose, he stopped by today.”

“What did he want? To see me?”

A little divot formed between her eyebrows. “It was strange. He said he stopped by for fresh clothes, but he didn’t carry

any out with him when he left. Instead, he sat and talked with me.”

The back of my neck tightened with warning. Ambrose hadn’t stopped by to see me or to pick up clothes. He’d visited with Josie

instead.

To hide my growing concern, I turned and went for the wine. “What did the two of you discuss?”

“You, mostly.”

I opened the wine and smelled the contents to make certain it hadn’t turned to vinegar. With Ambrose, one never knew. It smelled

fine, so I poured two glasses and carried them to the table. “And what about me were you discussing?”

“Would you like for me to recite the entire conversation?”

I did, actually, but I didn’t think it was fair to Josie. Handing her a glass, I said, “No, that’s unnecessary. Your general

recollections will do.”

“Let’s see, there was your family. Your father. How the two of you met. How you’ve always wanted revenge on the Pendeltons.

He said the two of you discussed it quite a bit.”

Now, why had Ambrose said that?

“Also,” she continued, “he thinks you’re smitten with me.”

She spoke shyly, as if she couldn’t believe such a thing might be true, and lying never occurred to me. She deserved the truth

about this—and so much more.

Leaning over, I kissed her cheek. “That’s because I am.”

Her expression softened, and she stared at me like I was a frozen ice treat on a blistering summer day. “Good, because I’m

equally smitten.”

A wave of relief went through me. “I’m glad to hear it.”

When I started to pull back, she grabbed my arm. “But you were talking about returning to Boston.”

I was? I didn’t remember making any plans. “When?”

She drank her wine, then licked her lips. “Last night. You said you needed to have a long chat with the two men from my past when you returned to Boston.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m planning to leave tomorrow.”

“Martha said you’re not a man who sticks.”

I blinked several times in surprise. Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have let Martha and Josie go off alone that day. But it didn’t

matter. It was time to tell Josie how I knew Martha, what my life in Boston was like.

It was time to tell her how I knew Ambrose.

I took a long drink of wine to bolster my courage. I wasn’t used to the telling the truth; lies were so much easier. But Josie

deserved to hear it. Confessing was the right thing to do, even if I wasn’t comfortable with saying the words.

I drained my glass. Fuck, I needed more wine for this.

I went to the counter, retrieved the bottle, and brought it to the table with me. When I refilled our glasses, I took another

swallow before saying, “I have to tell you something. And you’re probably not going to like it.”

Josie’s green gaze anxiously searched my face. “Are you married?”

“No! Jesus, no. I’m not married.”

“Phew!” She wiped her brow dramatically. “That’s a relief. So what is it?”

“It’s about how I earned a living back in Boston. It was similar to sales, but it wasn’t exactly sales.”

She froze with the glass halfway to her mouth. “Similar to sales? What does that mean?”

I drew in a deep breath, then let it out. There was no more putting off the truth. “I worked on the street. Mostly as a confidence

man.”

Carefully, she placed her glass on the table. “Mostly a confidence man. What about the rest of the time?”

“I have other skills.” I waved my hands. “Abilities that I may call upon to—”

“Spit it out, Leo!” She straightened. “You’re starting to worry me.”

“I was a pickpocket.”

The air left her lungs in a rush. “You’re a thief.”

“I prefer ‘dipper.’”

“Thief.”

She pushed out of her chair and began pacing. I clasped my hands together and waited for her to absorb the news.

“You steal,” she said. “From other people. Their belongings and whatnot. Like the man in Central Park, which was how you knew

what he was about to do.”

“I stole , past tense. But yes, all of that is true.”

“Stealing is wrong, Leo.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” I needed her to understand, so I gestured to her chair. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Warily, she lowered herself into her chair. “I hope you aren’t going to try to excuse it.”

“I’m not. It was wrong. But there aren’t many honest opportunities available to a thirteen-year-old boy who has a family to

support. The factories don’t pay enough, and what else was I qualified for? Some boys I knew sold their bodies—there are always

people willing to pay for that sort of thing—but I couldn’t do it. So I was on the street, considering joining one of the

gangs, when I met a man named St. Elmer. He had a group of young men he mentored, teaching them how to pinch and run schemes

on unsuspecting citizens. It seemed so easy—and the money?” I whistled. “More than I could make in a month in a factory. I

didn’t have the luxury of turning it down. My father was dying, drinking himself to death, and my mother couldn’t afford food.

We were desperate, Josie. There wasn’t time for right and wrong.”

Her lips flattened, but at least she didn’t look away in disgust. Instead, she continued to stare at me. “This is how you

know Ambrose.”

I nodded once. “This is how I know Ambrose.”

“That makes what he said today slightly more sensible, at least.”

The same tightness returned to the back of my neck. “What did he say?”

“How you dreamed of getting revenge on the Pendeltons by writing a fake ransom note and taking the money. Things such as that.”

I stared at the liquid in my glass and wondered over this. Why was Ambrose discussing the Pendeltons with Josie? I made a

mental note to find him tomorrow and demand an answer.

“Are you...?” She reached for her wine and took a long draught. “Are you going to keep working as a pickpocket?”

“No, of course not. I’m a manager now, remember?” I paused. “That is, if you’ll still have me.”

“But what if we never make any money? What if my voice gives out? What if everyone hates—”

“Stop.” I couldn’t stand to hear her doubt herself. Not when she was so dashed talented. I grabbed her hand on the table and

squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’s all going to work out. I know it.”

“So... Martha? Was she mentored by this St. Elmer character too?”

“Nothing like that. But I performed at parties for her, card tricks and other sleight of hand. Which brings me to this.” I

held up the love letter in my fingers. “This is a letter the Pendelton baby nurse supposedly wrote to my father, her lover.”

Josie’s eyes went huge. “Your father was sleeping with—”

“No, definitely not. But someone was and they tried to pin that, as well as the kidnapping, on my father.” I told Josie everything

I’d learned from Detective Porter this morning. “So, we have to use this letter to figure out who tried to frame my father.”

She pointed to the paper in my hand. “You stole evidence from the police.”

“Borrowed,” I corrected. “I’ll return it when I’m done.”

Josie cast her eyes toward the ceiling, like she was looking for divine intervention. “Leo! Stealing is wrong. Did we not

just have this conversation?”

“This is the last time, I swear. What was I supposed to do? They accused my father of something terrible, Josie. His name

deserves to be cleared.”

“There are proper methods for these things. You can’t go about making up names and stories and stealing evidence!”

“And I won’t, I promise. Not after this. You don’t have to worry.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “We will discuss this later. For now, let’s read the damn thing and

see if it proves your father innocent.”

Grateful for the temporary reprieve in the topic, I opened the letter. Flowery script flowed over the page. I spread the paper

on the table so we both could read the words:

My dearest—

Your affectionate letter, though brief, was most touching. I keep it hidden, of course, but I dare say it resides close to

my heart. I do so look forward to the day when we may share our feelings publicly, not in secret as we have done for these

many months. As you say, the wait will be worthwhile, but it pains me to be apart from you.

Do not think as I walk by that I am not thinking of you, pining for you. Be assured, my golden angel, that I am forever holding

you in my heart most ardently.

“Golden angel?” Josie snorted.

“You wouldn’t like it if I used that endearment for you?”

“Be serious.” She elbowed my arm. “Now, be quiet. Let me read the rest.”

The day rapidly approaches. I do hope we are not caught, as much hinges on our success. I cannot know the epitome of happiness until this business concludes and we are sharing our lives in a distant place. From student and tutor to man and wife, I remain—

Your still constant, faithful, and devoted love,

Annie

“It’s dated five weeks before the kidnapping,” I noted. “This must be the event to which she refers.”

“Student and tutor.” Josie eased back in the chair with her wine. “What an odd thing to say.”

“My father never tutored anyone.”

“No, Annie is the tutor. Man and wife, so man matches up with student.”

That made sense. “These were definitely between two members of the Pendelton staff. She talks about walking by.”

“Too bad we can’t find his letters, too. Then we would know his identity.”

Frustrated, I dragged my hands through my hair. “This only raises more questions.”

“There are clues here.” She patted my arm, her smile teasing. “Do not despair, my golden angel. We will—”

I lunged for her, lifting her over my shoulder and tickling her ribs. Squealing, she wriggled and laughed, but I held steady

as I carried her into the bedroom. “Let’s go and put your smart mouth to better use.”