The Fall of Rome Page 9

  “Just easing into character,” Athens said, reverting to his own voice.

  “You’re a character alright.” She quirked a lopsided grin. “Where’d you dig up that suit anyway?” The knee- length frock coat with a contrasting collar lay between them. He’d shed that miles ago due to the heat. But the matching waistcoat and trousers and fancy accessories still pegged him as highfalutin. “You didn’t purchase those duds in this area, I can tell you that.”

  “I didn’t purchase them at all. Kaila did.”

  The Englishwoman he intended to marry. Soon. “The top hat, too?”

  He thumped the shiny brim. “Pretty, huh?”

  “More ornamental than useful.”

  Athens pointed to her flower- and feather-laden bonnet. “You’re one to talk.”

  They both smiled, and Kat marveled that she used to actually collect such nonsense. Rome had been right on that score. She’d owned a steamer trunk filled with frivolous bonnets, parasols, and gloves.

  “Kaila thought I should have something appropriate to wear when I meet with President Hayes,” Athens continued.

  “You’re meeting with the president?”

  “Eventually.”

  Because Athens was so down-to-earth, it was easy to forget his elevated status. In good favor with the president of the United States, she imagined there were greater things in his future than duping outlaws. Were he inclined, she easily imagined him as governor of the Territory. Maybe even a U.S. senator.

  Kat noted the gold watch chain dangling from his tailored waistcoat, the wide ascot tie fastened with a jeweled stickpin. “I suppose this getup would be considered distinguished over in London.”

  “It would.”

  “But not in Washington, D.C.”

  “Not unless I’m meeting the president at the opera house. Even then ...”

  “Not really your style.”

  “Not really.”

  She commiserated, still readjusting to the rib-crushing effect of a corset. It had been years since she’d laced herself into misery for the sake of a miniscule waist. “I assume you found a tactful way to break the news,” Kat said.

  “Didn’t have to. She knew the clothes didn’t fit the man--so to speak--the moment I tried them on.”

  “Still, you kept the suit.”

  “How could I refuse her good intentions? English has a heart as deep and vast as the ocean.”

  She noted his pet name for Kaila Dillingham with a wistful smile. His affection for the woman was evident, and it plucked a melancholy cord within. She’d never been the recipient of true love. Just lust. She swallowed a lump of regret. Your own fault, Kat.

  “I told her that I’d find a need for this suit someday,” Athens said, as he navigated the horse and buggy through a rocky patch of road. “And I did. Not my style, but I’d say it works for Sherman Shakespeare, wouldn’t you?”

  She laughed at the absurd name. “Along with that fake moustache and beard.”

  “My face isn’t famous like Rome’s and Boston’s,” he said, “but it doesn’t hurt to take precautions. Not to mention, the costume helps me to feel like I’m someone else.”

  She understood that concept well. “Although you didn’t follow in your parents’ theatrical footsteps, you certainly inherited their gift for acting.”

  “We all did. Especially Rome.”

  She frowned. “I don’t follow.” When she’d first met Rome, he’d been twenty-two with three years under his belt at Wells Fargo. “I don’t recall any mention of him ever gracing the stage.”

  “You don’t need a stage to act.”

  She was living proof of that. But Rome? She scrunched her brow. “Are you saying Rome’s not who he appears to be?”

  “I’m saying there’s more to him than he lets on.”

  “How so?”

  “If you knew him well,” Athens admonished kindly, “you wouldn’t need to ask.”

  Words failed her, but a hundred thoughts swirled. She’d blamed Rome for their shallow relationship when perhaps she was equally at fault. She’d never pried beneath his cock-assured surface because she’d been desperate for a protector. No weakness. No vulnerability.

  Did she really know Rome Garrett at all?

  “Speaking of acting,” Athens said, intruding on her thoughts, “you should start easing into character yourself.” He pointed out their proximity to Tucson. “Won’t be long now.”

  “Like I said before,” Kat mumbled, her mind still on Rome, “don’t worry about me.”

  “So, who does?”

  She blinked out of her reverie. “Excuse me?”

  Athens, aka Sherman, glanced over, one bushy brow raised. “Who worries about you, Katrina Simmons?”

  Rattled further, she fussed with the satin ribbon of her fancy bonnet. “No offense intended, but why should it matter to you?”

  He smiled. “It matters because I like you.”

  She didn’t detect sexual interest, just friendly interest. Remnants of her early morning discussion with Rome flared. Guilt pricked. What if his interest had been genuine? “You don’t know me.” The theme of the day.

  “I’m an excellent judge of character.”

  The confidence in his tone coaxed a smile out of her. “That so?”

  He nodded. “Famous for it.”

  “You’re famous for a lot of things,” Kat said as the buggy rocked from side to side. “Most notably your political achievements and diplomacy skills.”

  Now it was his turn to frown. “Concerned I won’t be able to handle myself with a rotten egg like Brady?”

  “No,” she said kindly. “Just curious as to why you’re inspired to try.”

  He focused back on their destination. “President Hayes put me in charge of taming the West. Currently, Bulls-Eye Brady is public enemy number one.”

  Part of the speech he’d delivered when they’d first met.

  She pursed her lip. “Strictly business, huh.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I don’t buy it.” Kat shifted in her seat and regarded the man beneath the costume. “I think it’s personal.”

  His shoulders stiffened, and she smiled.

  “I read people, too, Athens. It’s what makes me good at playing cards. So. Want to discuss what’s really driving you to nail Brady’s worthless hide?”

  “I do not. Want to talk about your true motivation?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  Athens nodded. “If you ever change your mind...”

  “Same goes here.” They fell into companionable silence, and Kat contemplated the possibility that she’d just forged a positive bond with someone other than the generous and kind soul currently overseeing her saloon. Given her upbringing, given her history, Kat didn’t trust easily. Especially men. But she sensed she could trust Athens Garrett. Still and all, she wasn’t ready to confess her sins. For Frankie’s sake, she’d take those to her grave.

  A short time later, they rolled into Tucson.

  With great effort and anxiety, Kat regressed several years, pretending to be the woman her daddy had raised her to be. An outrageous flirt. A free-spirited creature who used beauty and sensuality to distract and manipulate.

  “They won’t be concentrating on their cards, Kitten, if they’re focused on you.” She ignored the self-disgust gnawing at her gut, envisioned Frankie’s smiling face. Whatever it takes. She primped, shaking trail dirt from the linen duster she’d donned to protect her stylish gown. She winked at the male passersby who openly gawked.

  “I say, everyone should have someone who worries about them.”

  Kat cast Athens a sideways glance. He’d affected Sherman’s accent, but he’d referenced a previous conversation. The man was relentless. No wonder he excelled at politics. “Johnson Pratt,” she gave up in a whisper. “The barkeep at the Star. He’s my friend. He worries.”

  Satisfied, her companion smiled as he sought out the Cosmopolitan Hotel. “Excellent. Including Rome, Boston, Seth, and
me, that makes five.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Phoenix

  “What do you mean, she can’t stay here?”

  “I confess to an accent, London, but it’s not as if I’m speaking another bloody language. Were circumstances different, I’d happily take in Miss Adams until you arrange for suitable housing. But circumstances are currently dreadful.”

  They were certainly tense.

  Kaila Dillingham hovered over the stove in Athens’s kitchen, fussing with a cast-iron kettle. London loitered next to the pie safe, hat in hand. He hadn’t known his brother’s intended for long, but in that time he’d never seen her agitated. She’d seemed the perfect match for Athens--always calm and logical. Always diplomatic. Always accommodating.

  Until now.

  “Anything I can do?” he asked, temporarily distracted from his own personal crisis.

  “Absolutely not.” She whirled, fists clenched at her side.

  Several red ringlets had escaped her chignon and now hung limp against her pale, sweaty face. Her normally friendly expression was hostile. Her bodice was stained with ... something. The always impeccably dressed and coiffed Kaila Dillingham had come undone in more ways than one. “I would be most distressed if you attempted to fix this matter, London Garrett.”

  More distressed than she was now? He bit back that question and asked another. “What matter?”

  “Earlier today, Zoe instigated a pastry fight.”

  His chest eased. “Is that all?”

  “In the bakery,” she snapped. “During peak business hours. I had to close early in order to deal with the mess.”

  “I’ll send over Mrs. Chen to clean--”

  “Not that mess. Zach and Zoe. I’m referring to the two out-of-control children whom I am presently watching over.”

  “I’ll have a word with Zoe.”

  “It’s not entirely her fault. Zach taunted her.”

  “Then I’ll have a word with him.”

  “It’s not entirely his fault, either.” She turned back to the stove, lowered her voice. “He’s anxious because his father is away.”

  Understanding dawned. Knowing Miss Tori Adams was currently medicated and under the watchful eye of Parker, London perched his hat on the pie safe and straddled a kitchen chair. “Zach’s not the only one who’s anxious.”

  “Of course, I’m concerned.” Her hands trembled as she procured two teacups from the cupboard. “He’s out there taunting a ruthless beast. Athens is a brilliant motivator. A brilliant strategist. But he doesn’t possess an iota of practical experience when it comes to dealing with outlaws.”

  “Rome, Boston, and Seth have plenty of practical experience.”

  “Which is why he should have left the task of catching Bulls-Eye Brady to them.”

  London agreed, but didn’t say so. His brother had his loyalty, although he questioned his judgment of late. He understood Athens not wanting to keep his future wife in the dark regarding his job as director with the Peacemakers Alliance. But why wouldn’t he shield her from unnecessary worry? It would have been far kinder to be vague. Going away on business. Be back in a few days. A belated thought caused him to frown. “Athens didn’t tell the kids about--”

  “Of course not.” She spooned dried leaves from a tin into the china cups, her movements jerky but efficient. “He just said he’d be away a few days on business. Apparently, he used to travel quite a bit when he served as state senator.” The traveling had intensified, London thought, directly after Jocelyn’s death. His brother had dealt with the guilt and loss by burying himself in work. London remembered those days well. The entire family had pitched in to look after Zach and Zoe until Athens came around. Not to say he’d wholly put Jocelyn’s death behind him.

  “Whilst Zach and I had developed a comfortable relationship,” Kaila continued, “he now worries that, with a stepmother around, his father won’t think twice about traveling frequently once again.”

  “I’m pretty certain this is a one-time deal.”

  “I know exactly what it is,” she said in a scratchy, hushed voice. “I know it’s something he needs to do. I just want it over and done. I want Athens home safe.”

  Her voice broke, and London rose. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “My brother lucked out when you walked into his life.”

  “Actually,” she said, sniffing back tears, “I didn’t walk. I fell.”

  “Out of a tree, into his arms.” He smiled. “I heard.” Encouraged that the dust devil moment had passed, he repeated an offer meant to further ease her distress. “Let me talk to Zach.” “No. Please. I need to do it.” She looked over her shoulder and regarded him with a watery smile. “It’s important to our future.”

  He’d been watching over his brothers and sister for a long time. That tendency naturally overflowed to extended family. It was hard to pull back, but he did. “Understood.”

  He stepped aside, crossed his arms. “About that tea you’re making. I’m more of a coffee drinker.”

  “This isn’t for you,” she said kindly, pouring hot water into the cups. “It’s for Zach and Zoe. Catnip tea. Known for its calming effects. I intend to stack the deck in my favor when we have our heart-to-heart.”

  “Where are they anyway?”

  “After I cleaned them up, I made them an early dinner and then sent them to their room to ponder their disgraceful behavior.”

  “Surprised we haven’t heard them going at it since they’re bunking in the same room.”

  “Yes, well, they’re not speaking at the moment.”

  “But you’re going to remedy that.”

  She gave a curt nod. “I am. But shall I make you coffee first?”

  “Thank you, but no.” He moved to the pie safe and snagged his hat. “I should get back to Miss Adams.”

  “Miss Adams. Good gracious. I didn’t mean to . . . I was . . . self-involved.” Her cheeks turned pink. “She’s welcome to stay at my house, of course. It’s small, but comfortable, and, as I am sleeping here, quite vacant.”

  London shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t do. She’s ill. Nothing serious, according to Doc Vargas, just exhaustion and a mild case of influenza.”

  She frowned. “All the more reason not to bring her here. Influenza is contagious, and children are exceptionally vulnerable. If--”

  “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” Not straight anyhow. Tori Adams had his brain working every which way His heart raced every time he thought about the fragile woman who’d walked through his swinging doors. Visually, she was stunning, and it had little to do with the dipping neckline of her form-fitting gown. Frankly, the woman could stand to gain a few pounds. A passing thought as he’d fixated on her unique face. Almond-shaped eyes. Button nose. Lush lips. Sleek, brunette waves cascaded down her back, the front portion anchored back with ornamental combs, accentuating her quirky, yet striking, features. Unlike most women in the theater, she didn’t favor face paint. Nor did she seem aware of her beauty. Hard to believe she was a veteran performer, which by virtue of profession meant she was somewhat worldly. Those pale green eyes said different. They said shy, wounded. Then again, she’d been traumatized by Bulls-Eye Brady.

  “Maybe you could acquire a room at Mrs. O’Malley’s boardinghouse,” Kaila mused aloud. “If you pay extra, I’m sure Mrs. O’Malley would look in on her.”

  “She has nightmares. The man who brought her here said she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night.” He mentally coldcocked Bulls-Eye Brady. “I doubt Mrs. O’Malley or her other boarders would appreciate the intrusion.”

  “How dreadful,” she said, hand to heart. “Do you know what tortures her dreams so?”

  He did, but in light of their very recent discussion, he wasn’t all-fired eager to bring up the famed outlaw. “A recent tragedy,” was all he said. Vague to be kind.

  She furrowed her brow. “Mr. Parker said you hired Miss Adams to perform.”

  “I did and I didn’t.”


  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I, but I intend to sort that out.”

  She tucked limp curls behind her ears, expression intense. “Clearly, you’re responsible for this girl.”

  “Not so clear, but I agree.”

  “She’s ill and troubled, and you have a guest room at the Last Chance, do you not?”

  “She’s there now. But I was thinking of her reputation--”

  “I do not profess to understand the stereotypes and prejudices when pertaining to theatrical artists, but am I wrong to assume conventional rules do not typically apply?”

  London raised a brow, intrigued by her tolerance. Although he didn’t know her background, it was obvious she was well bred. He would have guessed her more conservative. “You’re not wrong.”

  “She’ll be prejudged by nature of her profession, yes?”

  “Probably.”

  She glanced at the steeping tea, and he registered her sudden impatience with his presence. “Right,” he said, then made a spontaneous request.

  Two minutes later, he bid his future sister-in-law a hasty farewell and, clutching a spare tin filled with the makings for catnip tea, made his way back to the Last Chance. Tori Adams filled his head and heart. He realized now that seeking out Kaila had been a knee-jerk reaction. He realized fate had already determined a specific course. He not only understood John Fedderman’s desire to protect the woman, but upon locking gazes with the troubled soul, he experienced the same bone-deep urge. His feelings, however, were far from pure and paternal. The delicate beauty had upchucked on his boots, and all he could think was, I’m going to marry this girl.

  A longtime bachelor, he was dumbstruck, to say the least. Of course, he had spent the last year pining for an adventure, anything to shake up his boring-as-hell life. Taking a wife certainly applied.

  “Maybe you should try courting her before dragging her to the altar, Garrett,” he murmured to himself.

  Right. As soon she recovered from the flu, and exhaustion, and, Christ, amnesia.