An Agent for Victoria Read online

  An Agent for Victoria

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

  Kate Marie Clark

  Copyright © 2018 Kate Marie Clark.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by Virginia McKevitt

  Book Design by Jolene Perry

  Edited by Jolene Perry

  Printed by Kate Marie Clark, in the United States of America.

  First printing edition 2018.

  [email protected]

  www.katemarieclark.com

  Contents

  Kate Marie Clark

  May 1871

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Kate Marie Clark

  For a complete list of Kate Marie Clark’s books or to sign up for her newsletter, visit katemarieclark.com

  May 1871

  1

  Victoria Gordon tip-toed closer to the door. The shouting, which had reached an all-time high, had lured her in. The clatter of furniture being thrashed about only heightened her interest. She couldn’t take the suspense a moment longer. Her brother had lost all control of the agency as of late. Without his secretary, Marianne, he’d have a mutiny on his hands.

  Another agent was currently at the chopping block.

  She smiled. In all honesty, she should have been more concerned for Archie; her brother didn’t stand a chance against any of the agents. They were younger, stronger, and, more often than not, more likely to throw the first punch. What was Archie discussing anyway…something about female applicants arriving…?

  Curiosity might kill her one day. Victoria pressed her cheek against the door, and to her mortification, the latch slipped, and the door opened wide.

  Archie stood at his desk. His cheeks were red and his eyes bulging— the usual result of her brother’s Scottish temper. His jaw dropped at the sight of Victoria.

  Maverick Jones, perhaps the most dangerous of all the Pinkerton agents—not to mention the most handsome—sat across from Archie. From all appearances, Maverick seemed to have been on the receiving end of the yelling. His legs were spread out in front of him, and one of his boots rested on a nearby chair.

  Victoria tried to recover from her humiliation, brushing her fingers down her skirt and smiling. “Pardon me, Archie. I hadn’t an idea you were busy.”

  “You can’t just come into my office,” Archie said, growling.

  She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Archie hated to be teased. Her brother could be ever so dramatic, especially in front of his agents, and Victoria didn’t want to cause any more of a scene. “Has something happened? Another case lost?” She paused and flipped her curls behind her shoulder. “You know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize when—”

  “My cases are private. What part of that can’t you understand?” Archie asked. He rubbed a hand along his beard and returned his gaze to the man seated across from him. “Apologies, Mav. I can’t seem to manage my little sister any better than I can that secretary of mine. Women in the field might prove its ruin. Mark my words.”

  Maverick shot Victoria a furrowed-brow glance, smirking. There was no mistaking his disinterest in both his previous conversation and this one; his shoulders relaxed against the leather chair. “Ain’t no matter.”

  “Women in the field? What a splendid idea!” Victoria sauntered to the edge of Archie’s desk, pretending not to notice the exquisite profile of the agent seated across from her brother. “You’d see less cases lost, and more money earned, if you decided upon such action.”

  Maverick stood. “I reckon I don’t have a pig in this fight. Mr. Gordon,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I’ll be filing my notes with Marianne straight away.”

  Seeing Maverick Jones’s figure disappear into the hallway was a shame. Indeed, Victoria had hardly seen a finer cut of a man. She leaned back on her heels, nearly falling to her hind end, to catch a final glimpse.

  “Could you be any more ridiculous?” Archie asked. He spun a pencil in his hands. “This isn’t the place to find suitors. Go to town. Heaven knows you’ve got charms enough to settle a husband. Why do you persist in barging into my office and admiring my men—men, I remind you, that aren’t available in the slightest? Catching the eye of Mav Jones would be the worst choice of your domestic happiness. He’s always running to and fro, not to mention the danger that follows him wherever he goes.”

  She brushed her hand against her brother’s arm. “But where is the fun in a spoiled and silly city man? Denver society hardly suits me, and the men? Even less.”

  Archie exhaled. “What is it? What do you want—more dresses, more pin money? Tell me, so that I can return to my work.”

  A lump formed in the back of her throat, aching with each breath. She blinked back dry tears; she never cried. “Do I have to have a reason to visit my brother?” Archie had been so immersed in his work, and for so long, that he could hardly be bothered to notice her. “Don’t you give your agents breaks between assignments—time to recuperate before turning them on to the next case?”

  “Yes…” Archie lifted a brow. “What’s it to you?”

  She sat in the chair opposite his desk, where Maverick had been, and smoothed her skirt. “Why don’t you ever take breaks?”

  “I’m in charge of the Denver office, Victoria. I shouldn’t have to remind you of my responsibilities—”

  “Like me?” She dropped her gaze.

  After their parents had died, she’d been forced to set sail for America and meet her brother—a man who’d fled Scotland when she was only three years old. Archie, ever the dutiful man, took sole responsibility for her. At least in most aspects. He was attentive to the essentials, and she’d enough money and dresses and bobbles to her name to prove it. She’d finished schooling at Wesleyan College a year ago—a feat for any woman in 1871—and since then, Victoria had joined her brother in Denver.

  She’d thought Archie would be happy to have her back at his side, but he seemed only mildly pleased—and that was on the good days. Her brother inquired little of her schooling, even less of her happiness, and believed her only expectation in life was to marry.

  “Victoria.” Archie’s shoulders relaxed. “I know I’ve been preoccupied, perhaps even neglectful in some regards. You remember the motto of the Pinkerton Agency?”

  “We never sleep.”

  He swallowed, and the ball of his throat bobbed up and down. “Right.”

  She managed a weak smile. “You spoke of women in the field? Is Denver finally coming around then? I’ve heard of female agents in other places.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been tasked to find willing and able women. I’ve sent an ad to be placed in papers both westward and eastward.”

  She lurched forward and pressed her arms to her sides in hopes of containing the excitement coursing through her veins. Since she’d first met Archie and heard of his work, she’d wished to be a part of the agency. “You’ve probably already dec
ided upon your first hire then?”

  His shoulders rolled back once more, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ve hardly released the call for applicants. What do you mean?”

  She rose from the chair and curtsied. “Reporting for duty, Mr. Gordon.”

  He said nothing. The silence stifled her anticipation and suffocated any hope of persuasion. Archie seemed no more amused at her proposal than he’d been by her unannounced visit. He was well on his way to becoming the grumpiest and most horrid brother.

  He stepped closer and placed his hands over her arms.

  “I’ve heard stranger ideas,” Victoria said, daring to meet her brother’s gaze. The same blood coursed through their veins, and she continually mistook that physical connection for something deeper—kinship. “No one would suspect a woman of fashion and education of being in league with the agency.”

  “But I won’t allow it.” One eye flinched as he spoke, and his jaw jutted forward. “Now, get back to your dresses and friends, and don’t forget you’ll be dining at Mr. Henderson’s tonight. His secretary has sent me no less than three reminders.”

  Victoria’s hands balled into fists. Archie hadn’t given her a single consideration, not when or where it mattered. She sighed and gathered her purse from the desk. “You can assure Mr. Henderson I’ll be ready for his carriage. Will I be seeing you there as well? I’m sure there will be other women in attendance—perhaps one that will suffice for the famed Pinkerton agent, Archibald Gordon?”

  “I’ll be here, working.”

  Victoria’s lips broke apart, spreading in disbelief. Archie was married to his work; of course he wasn’t interested in the company of a female, even that of his only sister. If Victoria could set him in his place by proving all that she had to offer the agency, and all that he missed in life, she’d feel a thread of satisfaction. She pressed a hand against her racing heart. “No matter. Enjoy your evening, Archie.”

  She let herself out of his office, making it a point to shut the door louder than necessary. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. Moments like this brought out her Scottish tongue. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to stifle any distasteful phrase from leaving her lips.

  “Mouse? Is everything all right?” came a feminine voice.

  Victoria lifted her gaze to the woman standing in front of her—Marianne. She’d nicknamed Victoria Mouse when they met four years ago. After her parents’ deaths, Victoria hardly spoke a word and jumped at the slightest noise. Thank goodness her grief had passed. Victoria sighed. “I’m quite finished with that insufferable brother of mine.”

  Marianne worked as Archie’s secretary, and she was only a year or two older than Victoria. After Victoria had finished her schooling, Archie had placed her in the apartment above the agency with Marianne as a roommate.

  Marianne’s brows drew down. “What’s happened now?”

  “He’s been tasked to employ women in the agency, yet he refuses to consider me for the job. What woman is better suited? I’m educated and not the least bit suspicious. I’ve ties to the agency—I’ve heard more Pinkerton stories than I wager most women have, and I’m resourceful; there aren’t many women that come all the way from Scotland unaccompanied, become educated at one of the greatest women’s colleges, and spend their time in high society. Don’t you see? I’m perfectly suited.” Victoria laughed and shook her head. “I’ve become desperate for adventure, desperate for something other than my brother’s indifference and the polite conversation of gentlemen callers.”

  Marianne took a slow breath. “You mustn’t upset yourself.” She grasped Victoria’s hand. Marianne was everything delightful—fiery and optimistic, unfailingly observant, and stronger than her small frame appeared. “I see so many similarities between your brother and you—”

  “Similarities?” Victoria frowned. “Is there anything to Archie besides his work?”

  Marianne laughed. “I’ve never met a more determined pair than you and your brother. When there’s something you want, you find a way to get it. And despite being repeatedly welcomed into the finest of Denver society, you both find it intolerable.”

  “And yet, Archie would have me rot alongside Mr. Henderson.” Victoria shook her head and tugged at a curl. “You’d think he wished me unhappy by the way he encourages me to court and marry the first wealthy man to throw his head my way.”

  “He only wants to protect you.” A momentary gleam caught Marianne’s eyes. She placed a hand against her rosy cheek.

  Victoria growled, catching her companion completely off-guard. “If you had Archie as a brother, would you be comforted by such an excuse? Wanting to protect me at the expense of my happiness seems a poor exchange.”

  “I suppose you’re right; it’s not fair, though there is little that is fair between the sexes.” She surveyed Victoria, and her lips puckered. “You know, I could help you, if you really wish to become an agent.”

  Victoria’s heart leapt; she’d hardly wished for something more intensely. She gasped and threw her arms around her roommate. “Oh, Marianne, that would be brilliant.”

  Marianne caught her breath, pushing Victoria an arm’s length away. “I assume Archie told you about his plans to marry the hired women to the existing agents?”

  The corner of Victoria’s lips tugged. “You mean, I could be hitched to one of those adventure-seeking and strapping men?”

  Marianne nodded. “As protection. The marriage would only be the duration of the case.”

  A marriage to a man like Maverick Jones was infinitely appealing—however temporary. A blush rose to Victoria’s cheeks at such a thought. She’d entertained the idea of romancing him for far too long. “I suppose, if you were really willing to assist me, you’d allow me a say of who I married?”

  A spark danced across Marianne’s eyes, and she laughed once more. She moved to her desk, fumbling through a stack of papers. “For you, Mouse, I suppose I can make an exception. Now, I’ll need you to send me a letter of all your qualifications. File it under the name of Miss Smith. Which agent are you wishing to be paired with?”

  Victoria’s vision clouded, and for a moment, she became lost in her daydream of marrying the most handsome and, perhaps, most dangerous and unpredictable Pinkerton agent in all of Denver. She sighed, brushing her fingers over her lips. “Maverick Jones.”

  Archie placed his knuckles against the desk. “Now…About yesterday, before my sister came.”

  Mav threw his hand in the air. “Like I said, it don’t matter. How you settle your family affairs ain’t no business of mine.”

  “Before she came, we were discussing the possibility of bringing female agents into the Denver office.”

  “Discussing? Seems like you were yelling.” Mav leaned his head against the back of the chair and grinned. He’d had more than a few chuckles of imagining women—particularly those like Archie’s sister, Miss Gordon—with a gun in hand, fighting off scoundrels. He swiped a hand through his hair. “I remember; I told you that I thought the idea stupid. My opinion hasn’t changed one stitch.”

  Archie scowled. “My orders are the same as yours; I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “But women, wielding guns and fighting crime—they wouldn’t stand a chance!” Mav’s voice cracked. Archie was mad to suggest such a thing.

  “That’s why I’ll be pairing them with more experienced agents,” Archie said. “A woman for each of my male agents. You’ll be training them.”

  “So we can tend them?” Mav cracked his knuckles and leaned forward in the chair, casting a dark expression at Archie. “I signed up as an agent for one reason, and one reason only—to use my skills for good. Ain’t nothing good about standing watch ‘round a girly girl.”

  Archie laughed. “Unless she’s your wife.”

  Mav’s eyes widened, and he laughed. Archie was on one. Mav crinkled his nose. “I ain’t marrying a woman that I don’t know, let alone taking her out on a case. What do you expect? ‘Nice to meet you, let’s go g
et you killed’?”

  Archie grinned. “Your employment is dependent on following orders, no matter how painful they might be.”

  Mav near lunged at his employer. “You’re serious?”

  “Judge Hotchkiss demanded we marry the women to agents. And think of it—women have the ability to infiltrate cases in a way men don’t. They can befriend wives of crooks, work as a maid to a conspirator, sweet talk a straggler, or, if she happens to have a passable figure and face, she might gather critical information.”

  Mav took in a slow breath, releasing it even slower. “It don’t sound encouraging. I’ve gambled many a times, but never with worse odds. If having a passable figure and face is only a possibility, I’m hesitant to agree. I’d like to think my future wife was prettier than a doorknob. Besides, you know I work alone.”

  Archie’s eyes narrowed, and he tapped his hand against the desk. “Mav, you’ve the ability to settle the men at this announcement. If you go along with my orders, the others might not protest as fiercely.”

  Mav folded his arms, huffing in disbelief. “You’re asking me to go along with this outrageous plan?”

  “If you want to remain an agent, then yes.”

  Irritation pricked the back of Mav’s neck. Archie was only six years older than Mav, but the way he carried on, and with such authority…Mav pursed his lips. There was no talking his way out of this one. If Archie was about to put such a condition on Mav’s continued employment, he’d have to play along. The agency was all he had left. He dipped his chin in resignation. “I reckon I can handle a woman, for the duration of the case at least, mind you get me a passable one.”