The Pinkerton Matchmaker Read online

  Recognizing the voice as belonging to Wyatt McGrath, Archie gave a visible shiver. Wyatt had been with the agency for nearly five years. He stood at over six feet tall, he rarely became angry. Instead, when angered he would go quiet, leaving the target of his emotion on edge, not knowing what the outcome might be.

  He sounded mad.

  Extremely mad.

  Marianne quickly stood, grabbing the tray and headed towards the door.

  “Marianne!” The voice reverberated across the hardwood floors.

  When she reached the doorway, she turned, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Archie. “I guess this is one of those times when I shall let you handle it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “What, in the blazes, is this?”

  Marianne watched as Wyatt waved the newspaper in the air. “Language, Wyatt. I told you I don’t like language like that being used in the house. Was there something particular in the newspaper you are referring to?”

  Wyatt growled, “Don’t play coy with me, Marianne. I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know everything that goes on in this office. Why should this be a surprise?”

  “I’m sure Archie can handle whatever concerns you have. He is the agent in charge.”

  Wyatt hit the table next to the door with the newspaper. “Where is he?”

  “In his office. I warned him someone might be coming.” She continued towards the kitchen as Wyatt went to Archie’s office. “And I think the news is wonderful,” she called over her shoulder.

  She could hear Wyatt enter Archie’s office and close the door. The voices carried all the way to the kitchen where she put the dishes in the sink.

  Trying to delay walking back through the foyer to the stairs leading to her apartment, Marianne decided to quickly wash the dishes and start the kettle.

  As she heard the voices rising she felt sorry for leaving her employer to deal with this alone. Sometimes she wondered if Archie really connected with the agents. She knew they took delight in exasperating him to no end.

  Even though Archie was a kind and fair employer, Marianne noticed he was a bit addlebrained the first time she met him. Granted, it was while he was still unpacking from the office opening. It didn’t take her long to prove herself a valuable assistant and help him organize the office to a smooth operation.

  Hearing the voices rise again, she thought this type of entertainment required a cup of tea.

  The voices were still booming from behind the closed door when she took her cup and started the long climb to her living suite. She hit the third step when the front door opened again. She turned to see Maverick Jones and Bronco enter the foyer.

  Mav stopped when he heard the noise coming from Archie’s office.

  “What’s going on in there?” he asked Marianne.

  Marianne shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps they are discussing the weather?”

  “That doesn’t sound like the weather, Marianne.”

  “Is that Wyatt?” Bronco asked. “He never yells.”

  “Well, he is yelling now.” Marianne took a seat on the top step and had a sip of her tea.

  Mav looked at her before hitting Bronco on the arm. “Let’s check it out.”

  They disappeared into the room and everything fell silent for a moment before a loud “What?” reverberated through the house. Marianne took another sip of tea and listened to the muffled sounds from behind the door.

  She was down to the bottom of her cup when she heard the footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Archie’s younger sister and the only other woman in the house, Victoria, appear on the landing.

  “What the devil is going on? I can hear that racket all the way on the third floor.”

  “Language, Victoria,” Marianne chastised, finishing her tea before placing the cup on the step below her. She scooted over to allow Victoria to take a seat next to her. “I think your brother is addressing some of the agents’ concerns.”

  “Is that Mav?” Victoria asked, pulling her wrap closer around her.

  “Mav. And Wyatt. And Bronco.”

  Victoria bit her bottom lip and Marianne lightly rubbed her back. “It is nothing to worry about, Mouse,” Marianne said, calling her the nickname she gave Victoria when she first arrived at the house all those years ago.

  Victoria had been a little overwhelmed living right in the middle of the house they made their headquarters at. The number of agents and their differing personalities would make her scurry away when they all assembled in the house at once.

  Victoria was only three years younger than Marianne but had already had a lifetime of experiences.

  She was uprooted from her home to be dragged halfway across the world to her brother. Both her parents were killed in Scotland and she was sent on the first boat to America to live with Archie.

  Unsure what to do with a sister many years his junior, Archie sent her off to be schooled at a prestigious academy on the east coast. She visited the Denver office over her first summer break and that is where Marianne first met the young Scottish miss.

  When Victoria returned to school in the fall they continued to build their friendship through letters exchanged on a semi-regular basis.

  Marianne looked at her friend. There was nothing mousey about Victoria now. She had grown into a beautiful young lady and spoke her mind often, much to Archie’s mortification. Her hair was a beautiful auburn color and it hung in a single plait down her back.

  Marianne often thought that being independent those many years of schooling, gave her a sense of courage that she may not have had if circumstances were different. Marianne was simply glad her friend matured into the lovely young lady sitting next to her.

  “I don’t want Mav getting hurt.”

  Marianne looked at her friend with a puzzled expression on her face. “What makes you say that? No one is going to hurt anybody. They are just discussing upcoming cases.”

  “Well, they are discussing it very loudly.”

  “And you are concerned about Mav’s safety… because?”

  Victoria blushed and looked away. “No reason. I don’t want any of the agents to get hurt. Besides, he doesn’t see me as anything other than a pest.”

  “That’s not true, Mouse. He sees you as Archie’s younger sister and as the beautiful young woman you have become.”

  Victoria scoffed. “I don’t believe the last part.”

  There was no doubt in Marianne’s mind that Victoria was smitten with the brawny agent. But she knew that it could never grow beyond that.

  Giving a slight tug on the braid, she stood from the step. “How about you go back upstairs to the apartment and I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea? I’ll bring it up and we can talk about your future now that you’ve been in Denver for a year.”

  Marianne and Victoria shared living quarters on the third floor of the house. They had the entire floor to themselves, apart from one small room that served as a storage area.

  The men stayed in a second, smaller house on the far side of the two-acre lot. The pseudo-dormitory could house up to sixteen agents at any one time, and it had all the typical rooms of the main house. However, most of the men chose to work and eat in the main building and only returned to the outbuilding to sleep.

  A loud crash came from the office and then all noise ceased. Victoria ran down the stairs towards the door with Marianne right on her heels.

  Victoria stopped at the door and pressed her ear against it. Marianne joined her and did the same. She could hear snippets of the conversation coming from behind the door.

  Agents. Investigations. Women. Training.

  Marianne pressed her ear harder to the door hoping she might be able to pick up more of the conversation.

  Suddenly, the door was pulled open and both fell to the floor in front of four pairs of boots.

  CHAPTER 3

  Marianne fell into the room and Victoria fell on top of her. She couldn’t see anything as her face was
planted into the carpet, but she heard laughter come from above her.

  Bronson.

  “Victoria Mary Gordon, what are you doing down here?”

  Victoria grunted. Marianne felt the weight lifted off her as someone picked her up. A hand appeared in front of her face and she gladly took it, lifting herself to a kneeling position on the floor.

  She could see Archie and the three agents standing in a circle around them. Archie looked furious, his ruddy complexion turning a darker shade that already clashed with his red hair. Marianne swore if he didn’t calm himself he would turn the color of the beets at the green grocers.

  He had a cut on his lip and she could see a bit of blood had stained his shirt. He lifted his fingers to his lip and winced. A few more scrapes peppered his face.

  She wanted to kiss that lip, along with each one of those scrapes, and make his pain go away. Her mother always taught her that a kiss made every injury better, and there were many injuries in the Chapman house.

  Every single time Marianne or her five brothers were injured, Momma was always there with a bottle of witch hazel and a kiss. However, her momma was talking about scraped knees and elbows. Certainly not the lip of a man who didn’t view her as anything more than a secretary.

  Marianne swallowed hard and wiped her hands on her skirt.

  “I suppose there is a reasonable explanation for this?” Archie asked.

  Marianne lifted her hand, so someone could help her into a standing position. Archie grabbed it and the slight current of electricity moved up her arm.

  Archie rarely touched her. In fact, he went out of his way not to.

  She pulled her arm back slightly before allowing him to assist her to a standing position. She took a quick glance at the room – Archie’s desk was clear as the papers that were laid on top of it, were now scattered on the floor. A plant was knocked over in the corner, its soil dirtying the chair that Bronson normally sat on when throwing his knife at Archie’s wardrobe. In front of the desk, a chair was toppled over and laid on its side.

  She then looked at the agents.

  Wyatt had the makings of a bruise on his cheek, and she could tell the anger still simmered underneath the surface. She noticed his knuckles were scraped as he opened and closed his fist.

  Bronco was smiling widely, looking totally amused at the sight before him. Everything was a game to him, she wondered if he took anything seriously. Thank goodness his knife was still in the leather sheath on his leg.

  And then there was Maverick. He looked directly past her and his gaze moved from amused to smoldering. Marianne turned to the direction of his view and there was Victoria, still sitting on the floor with her robe opened slightly.

  Marianne quickly moved in front of her friend to block anything the agents might see. “There will be none of that. You men turn around right this instant.” She waited for them to comply before helping Victoria stand up and adjust her robe. Nothing was seen, but Marianne didn’t want anything to compromise the reputation of the friend she thought of as a sister.

  “Marianne,” Archie began. His voice came out with a low warning that he wasn’t pleased at all with catching them eavesdropping. “I’ll ask you once again, and only once. What is your explanation for being at the door?”

  “Stop it, Gordon,” Mav spoke up. “The noise probably brought them in.”

  Archie raised his eyebrow at Marianne.

  “I… I was just…” Marianne clenched her skirt again before wiping her hands on the bodice of her dress. “I was just letting you handle things but then I was concerned when I heard the loud crash.”

  Marianne looked up at Archie, hopefully. His eyes were a lovely shade of green with brown flecks. “You were able to handle things, weren’t you?”

  Archie sighed. “Yes. The lads were just leaving. I think we have discussed everything we need to. Victoria, I want you to head to your apartment immediately.” He signaled for Victoria to go.

  She looked at Marianne. “Remember to bring the tea,” she said before leaving the room. Once she disappeared beyond the landing at the top of the stairs, the agents left without saying another word.

  The front door closed with a low click. Marianne turned to make her way out of the office, but Archie’s voice stopped her.

  “I’m not done with you, Miss Chapman. You can stay right there.”

  Archie heard Marianne murmur a quick “I’ll be right back,” before she scurried out of the room. It was less than a minute before she reappeared with a glass bottle and a linen cloth.

  “Sit,” she said, pushing Archie towards his chair. He sat with a hurrmph. “Now, shush and let me clean that busted lip.”

  Archie watched as she made herself comfortable on his desk. She sat down on the edge, adjusting her skirt so it wasn’t in the way. Bronson was correct, it was a new dress and she looked lovely in it. The fabric was in a yellow rose chintz and it complemented her coloring.

  He was level with her bosom, which was pushing against the confines of her dress. He quickly turned his eyes away before she saw him looking. He moved his gaze to her face. She was in deep thought, as she bit the inside of her cheek. It was a habit Archie noticed she did when something was on her mind.

  Her hair was a lovely dark brown that matched her eyes. Her skin was peaches and cream with full berry-colored lips. She had a pert little nose that wrinkled when something bothered her.

  Archie considered the rest of her, skimming quickly past her chest and onto her waist. She had a very small waist. He could probably span it with his hands.

  Archie knew that Marianne hated some of the contraptions of the day – especially corsets and would prefer to go without one unless she was going out in public.

  He learned that little tidbit from his sister when Victoria mentioned wanting to rid herself of the silly apparatus. Archie put a stop to that lickety-split. His sister was a lady and he didn’t want to give the agents any ideas.

  Marianne had been out earlier, and Archie wondered if she had taken off the dreaded contraption before this evening. Marianne rocked a little on the desk before picking up the bottle and cloth again. Archie suppressed a groan.

  She’s your secretary. She’s just your secretary, he reminded himself.

  Marianne poured a bit of the liquid onto the cloth. As she reached out to Archie’s face, he grabbed her wrist.

  “What is it?”

  “Witch hazel. Nothing more.”

  Archie ran his thumb along her wrist. He could feel her heart beat under his administration. He wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his?

  The smell of the alcohol mixed with jasmine invaded his senses. He quickly released her wrist and nodded for her to continue. She gently touched the cloth to his lip and pulled it away when he hissed.

  “It’s sore,” he said.

  “Of course, it is. It will probably swell by tomorrow.” She gently held his chin in her hand as she pressed the cloth back to his lip. She poured some more liquid on the cloth and began to clean the other scrapes on his face. “But not to worry, it doesn’t deter from your boyish charms. I’m sure the ladies will find you even more dashing because of it.”

  The words tore through Archie’s heart. There were no ladies clamoring for his affections. He heard what they said, that he was an auld bodach. A crabbit. A grumpy old man. Married to his work and the agency.

  He tried courting once and it didn’t work out. His occupation and nature made him suspicious and the lady didn’t appreciate it when he accused her brother of running a bootleg operation, distilling spirits that were causing great illnesses in the county, right under her nose.

  Her brother was arrested and subsequently found guilty. She told Archie she never wanted to see him again and last he heard she had run off with a man and was living out towards California.

  He never tried again. Even though his attempt was a disaster, the agents were never short of companionship. If they stayed true to the Pinkerton honor code he saw no problem with i
t.

  It would just be nice to have someone to share his innermost thoughts with and to go home to at the end of the day.

  Marianne tilted his head, so she could continue her ministrations. Archie relished the feel of her hand holding his chin. She was very warm, and he could feel the heat radiating through the scruff of his beard.

  She slightly blew on his forehead and Archie imagined it was the gentlest of kisses. He lifted his head to look deeper into her eyes. The brown pools turned the color of the rich chocolate that he enjoyed as a boy in his homeland. The smell of jasmine was stronger now.

  Before he could stop himself he lightly whispered, “Do you?”

  Marianne’s lips parted, and he could see her swallow.

  “Do I what?” She swallowed once more.

  “Find me dashing?”

  If he leaned forward just a bit their lips would touch. She parted her lips a fraction more and her eyes opened wide.

  Suddenly a cool liquid washed over his pant leg and he realized that Marianne had missed the desk when placing the bottle back down.

  The spell was broken as Archie pushed back from the desk to quickly stand. Marianne, surprised by the sudden movement, found herself nose with the carpet once again.

  Archie watched as she quickly scrambled up and ran from the room.

  CHAPTER 4

  She was avoiding him.

  Not that he blamed her. He behaved foolishly that night. Dashing, indeed.

  Archie recalled watching Marianne run from the room as fast as her feet would carry her. The next morning his desk and office were restored as if nothing had happened.

  Marianne brought him his tea and left without a word. She did the same with the post, dropping the letters and returning to her duties without consideration.

  She barely spoke two words to him during the noon meal. He even came out of his office to sit down with the agents at the large table to enjoy the repast.

  Lunch was strained as the men had been made aware of the editorial in the paper. Several of them took it in stride, others were angry, obstinate even.