The Timepiece Protector Installment 2

         The streets of London were just as congested as the streets of downtown New York. Sellers

hawking their wares in the streets stood shoulder to shoulder with prostitutes and children left not

other place but to beg on the streets. The noise was almost defeaning. Almost. Even after all the years

Dermot had been "civilized" the super sensitivity of the world around him was apparent.

      The clip-clop of metal shod hooves mixed with some sort of machine that spit out white smoke

and made rumbling noises as Alstronia lead him to the shopkeeper who traded her the pocket watch.

His father's pocket watch. A small grubby hand reach toward Alistronia. On instinct Dermot grabbed

the small thin wrist.

      "Didn't mean no harm, gov. 'ave a message for the lady."
     
      "For me?" Alstronia turned around her pale skin even paler in the weak afternoon sunlight. "From

who?"

      "Don' know, miss. 'e was hidden in shadows."
  
      "Oh. Ummm.... thank you."

      Alistronia reached forward to take the note with shaking fingers, but Dermot snatched it out of the

boy's grubby fingers first. He slit the black wax seal watching with narrowed eyes as the boy ran off

down an alley. Looking back down at the masculine scrawl across filthy paper, he grunted.


    "What is it?" She stepped closer to him biting her bottom lip.


     "Nothing to worry about. A fear tactic."


      Alistronia's swallow was loud in an even louder world. "What did it say?"


     "She's fine. Continue on."

      For a second she hesitated then finally nodded and turned back towards the row of brick buildings

ahead of them. Shaking his head at the stupidity of criminals he slipped the paper into the inside

pocket of his great coat. The bastard had made the biggest mistake of his life. He must be getting

desperate. Not only did he have a gender, but judging by the script and wording he was well

educated. Which took much of the work of him hunting down in the hells of London.

     "Are you sure this is place?"

      The building they stopped in front of was an everyday run of the mill brick building with a shop

front on the first floor, apartments on the second floor and more than likely storage on the third. The

shop two shop windows on each side of the door showcased ready-made clothing for the average

working man, a few toys and a very pretty party dress for a little girl. He'd seen so many similar

displays in America he was actually surprised to find it in downtown London.

     "Of course I am. I've been here several times before yesterday. Occasionally the owners received

some interesting things from the orient. Not often, hence I'm not a regular customer." She paused

trying to peer through the curtains behind the displays. From his knowledge it usually meant the

owners were not opening for the day.

     "There hasn't been any rumors that they went on holiday. How strange."

    "There would be such rumors?"

     "Of course. We shop owners are a close-knit group. We look out after each other whenever

possible."

     "Back door?" Alistronia scowled spinning around to face him. He sighed. "Is there a back door?"

     "Oh! Yes. In the alley." She pointed to the corner of the building.

     "Stay here."

     "Sorry, but until I get Bronwen back in my arms, where you go I go."

      Dermot snorted then coughed quickly hoping to cover the blunder. She wrinkled her nose at him.

swallowing the need to kiss the tip of her nose he turned towards the alley. He didn't know what it

was about her that made him feel comfortable. The rustle of her black cotton skirts filled the alley

blocking out what he knew to the scurrying of rats. She gasped a couple times telling him she'd

noticed them as well. The scent of decay poured out of the back of the building. He shook his head

but the stench was there to stay for at least the rest of the day.

     "What is that smell?" she coughed.

     "Something decayed."

     "In a matter of one night and morning? What could do that so fast?"

      He glanced at her over his shoulder reaching to grasp the knob. "You're certain the woman who

traded with was the woman who worked this shop regularly?"

       "Of course. You can ask anyone in this neighborhood. She never goes anywhere. I think she's

afraid of her husband. He can be a real mean person." She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule

and pushed it against her nose. He could tell by the wrinkling of her nose it didn't do anything to keep

the smell from her.

      "Has he ever raised a hand-"

      "If he has he's never marked anywhere uncovered. Do you think someone died and that's why it

smells so bad?"

       Dermot shook his head. Even on the battlefield he hadn't smelled anything so foul.

      "This isn't a dead body. At least nothing I've ever encountered. I've never smelled anything so

bad. You should probably stay here. There's no telling what I'll find inside."

       "I told you. Where you go, I go."

      "Are you always so stubborn?"

      Alistronia shrugged. Grumbling under his breath he swung back to the shop door. She slipped up

behind him practically pressing her front to his back. His fingers itched for the pistol he'd forgotten

back at Tremayne's place. Thrusting one hand back Dermot grabbed a fist full of her skirt just to be

sure of where she was standing at any given point. Her small gasp went straight to his groin. Damn!

     "Stay right behind me and be quiet."

     "I'm not going anywhere else."

      Dermot wasn't sure this was a good idea, but getting a law enforcement agent would take too

long. The last thing he needed at the moment was to loose the lead on what happened to his father all

those years ago, and on the whereabouts of Alistronia's God-daughter. The swung open the door

choking on the bile that threatened to come up at the overwhelming smell. After a few seconds to

gain his composure, he stepped over the threshold very aware of ever step she made behind him.


                                                             ***

     Dermot's hand gave off the only heat in the darkened smelly building. He said it wasn't the smell

of death and it certainly wasn't food rotting. She didn't know of anything that could decay that fast.

The acrid scent burned her nose and threatened to cause her stomach to revolt.

      "Can you see anything?"

     "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

     "I can't see anything."

      Dermot sighed. "Stay."

      He released her skirt. His footsteps thudded softly on carpet away from her. A match struck and a

flare of light illuminated the small back room. Her breath caught in her chest and it had nothing to do

with the smell.

      "Happy now?"

     "Not really." she croaked closing her eyes through unable to scrub the image burned into her lids.

      "Aw fuck."

      Bubbles tickled her nose as she tried to keep from crying.

      "Don't move Miss Parker."

      "Ali. Call me Ali." she whispered. She wasn't a hundred percent certain they should be on first

name basis, but at this point hearing such an intimate thing was welcomed. She jumped when

Dermot's warm hand wrapped around her trembling shoulders. She dared not open her eyes for fear

she'd see even more horrendous images.

      "I'm going to walk you back outside along the same path we took coming in. Only more when I

nudge you."

     "Do I have to look?"

     "It'd be best if you kept your eyes closed. You already say more than you should have."

      She let her breath out. She should have agree with him and waited outside. His front pressed

against hers. Every definition of muscle rubbed against her soft feminine parts. Her heart pounded

while her breath sawed in and out of her corseted torso. If she hadn't been in such a predicament she'd

swear the reaction was from his closeness. Shaking her head just a little she pushed the thought from

her mind. His arms wrapped around her waist his fingers spreading across her lower back.

      "Right foot straight back." His heated moist breath whispered in her ear while slightly

pushing with his body. Slowly he guided her back to the threshold and out into the alley.

     Timidly she cracked her eyes open. The door was mostly  closed hiding the carnage. She sighed.

      Dermot cleared his throat sliding his hands from around her waist. She shivered.

     "Better?"

      She nodded trying to look everywhere else except his brown gaze and husky voice. "Yes. Thank

you."

     "Seeing as what we had tripping into I think it would be best to round up a constable and report

this."

      "Oh...ah...yes. Yes, your right." she shifted looking back down the alley.

      "Why don't you go summon one while I make sure the scene stays undisturbed."

       "It might be a few minutes. I don't usually see one around this time of the afternoon."

      "I'll be here."

      Ali nodded. Grabbing up her skirts she fled down the alley praying there would be a constable not

too far away. Of course luck wasn't with her. She had to go down five blocks and took close to half

an hour before she found someone. He debated her story at first but once she threatened to go to the

papers with their incompetence he quickly followed her back.

      Dermot leaned against the wall next to the back door riffling through a stack of papers. He

nodded to the constable but didn't bother coming to attention. The constable took one step inside

before turning around and vomiting. Ali jumped back thankful for her quick thinking for the vomit

had just barely missed her new boots.

       "Better?"

      Ali wanted to smack the smirk off Dermot's face. The poor constable hadn't been prepared.

      "Stay here. The Captain will want your statements." The constable stumbled down the alley

wiping his mouth.

      Ali turned watching him completely stunned. She had expected him to go inside and look for

survivors. At the very least.

      "No one has been inside there for several days."

      Ali spun back around. Dermot held a piece of paper up to the light as he spoke.

      "I told you the shop owner's wife traded me the watch for one of my summer hats specially

designed for her."

      "And once again. Are you one hundred percent sure it was the shop owner's wife?"

      "Why would you ask that?"

      "Just answer the question."

      "As sure as I can be. It wasn't like I came in here every single day, or even every week. She

looked and sounded the same."

       "And yet that..." he waved tot he door, "is not from one night and one morning. That is weeks if

not months worth of time from several people."

      "I...I'm going to wait on the corner. I need some fresh air." Ali stomped off.

      "Wait! Ali, please stop."

      "I don't want to hear it Mr. Harken. I am not a feathery minded woman who can't remember

someone she's worked with before."

      "Dermot grabbed her arm and swung her around. She landed against his chest her own heaving at

the hurt. Hurt? Yes. Hurt. It hurt that he thought so low of me Why? It never bothered me before

when men thought of me. The only man's opinions that had ever mattered had been Lord Gray,

Bronwen's father. Ali notched her chin up determined to push the wayward emotion away. His eyes

caressed her face and when he spoke his voice was softer. Gentler.

      "I didn't intend to imply any such thing." he pulled back handing her a single sheet or parchment

paper. "Read this and tell me what you think."

       Ali frowned. The paper trembled as her fingers locked around the greasy item. Dread filled her 

chest. whatever was on this paper wasn't going to be good news. Pulling her gaze from his concerned

one she saw the paper was a piece of a ledger. Inventory in, inventory out with the amount it sold for.

Nothing unusual in a shop, except for the names of the items.

      "These are female names. Why?" She glanced up at him the feeling getting worse.

      "My guess... this shop was used as a purchasing point for the white slave trade."

      Ali frowned. She understood the concept behind slavery. She read the newspaper. It was the

very important in the American South, but here in England it wasn't important. She'd never given any

thought to owning another person. But weren't slaves usually of African descent?

     "What is a white slave?"

      Dermot scowled. "How sheltered are the women in London? Surely you've at least heard the

term?"

Ali shook her head. "White slavery is...they take women, preferably young, and sell them to anyone

willing to pay their price."

      "What do they do with them?"

      "Slavery. What does that imply? Anything their masters' decide. Usually it's sex, procreation..."

Her face went hot than all the blood drained. As she scanned the ledge her gaze stopped on the very

last name on the list. Bronwen. The world tilted. Her legs went weak. The last thing she remembered

seeing was the same masculine scrawl of Bronwen's name waiting to be sold.


Copyright Mae Pen 2013
www.maepen.weebly.com

The Timepiece Protector

Chapter One

"It's a lovely piece."

The saleswoman's sugary sweet voice irritated him. The crunch of cheap tin crumpling pulled his gaze from the woman browsing the front counter. He ground his teeth as he realized he'd just crushed the small tin solider toy. He'd have to spend extra money to buy the stupid piece. He needed the watch. He glanced up through his lashes. The exact one the blasted saleswoman was trying to pitch to the somewhat familiar woman. He slipped the tin solider into his pocket and sidled his way to her other side pretending to look at a set of cufflinks.

Wasn't much to anything in the shop. Except for the intricately engraved pocket watch glinting gold in the gas lamp light.

"How much?"

"Ninety pounds."

Steep. He might still have a chance. Perhaps his hands wouldn't get dirty on this one. Then again... He felt the grin slide across his lips. No! Stay in character. Killing will come later. Much later. He needed that watch. Now. His fingers twitched.

"As lovely as it is, that is much too steep for me." She began to hand it back.
The saleswoman looked around. More than likely looking for her husband, who owned the establishment. She leaned in lowering her voice.

"You're the milliner that designs those fabulous hats for the royal family for the Ascot races, aren't you?"

"Uh...I suppose, though I do more than the Royal family. I've designed for the ambassadors and other ladies. Though I do prefer to keep names to myself. You know how it is with the higher ranks."

The saleswoman blushed. "Of course. Would you consider a trade?"

The customer pulled back frowning. "What sort of trade?"

"The pocket watch for one of your lovely creations? It's been my dream for five years to own one of

your hats." The saleswoman sighed.

He clenched his hands holding his breath. He wanted to swing in between the two women and snatch the timepiece from the woman. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. Just because she gets the watch doesn't mean he can't retrieve it within the next couple days. Damn! Just three days to the full moon and the secret initiation of the Hellfire Club. He had to have that piece!

"I suppose that would work. If you're not wanting this on your hat."

"No...no...no. That would just be inviting thieves to attack. No. Just one of your lovely summer hats."

"Deal."

He ground his teeth as the women shook hands. Bile pushed up the back of his throat. He quickly paid the woman for the broken tin solider before racing out of the small shop after the milliner. Ah! There she was, strolling down the cobblestone street. Probably heading back to her own shop. She paused craning her neck to look behind her. He dashed into an alley peeking around the corner of a building. She shrugged and moved on. This one would be tricky. But he would have that pocket watch and his revenge on the Royal family. Even if it killed him.

*   *   *  

Ali huddled deeper into her caped black wool jacket. The misty fall morning left a chill similar to snow melting down the back of her neck. She shivered and hunched further in. Her hands would be stiff with the weather by the time she got to her shop seven blocks from her flat.

"S'cuse me, miss?"

Ali froze. Despite the temperature sweat beaded across her forehead. She glanced to the entry way of the alley she was crossing. A young boy of about ten sat huddled against the brick building.

"Yes?"

"Got any food?"

Her stomach dropped. He held out his filthy hands turning red with the bite in the air. She shook her head but pulled out a coin.

"I don't have food, but here. There's a lovely bakery on the other side of this alley. Tell her Alistronia sent you and she'll see that you fill your belly." Ali held out the copper coin.
His eyes went large as he jumped to his feet. His fingers barely touched hers as he snatched the coin from her fingers. She blinked and he was already a quarter of the alley from her. Shaking her head she turned away from the street urchin.

If she hadn't taken on the care of her God-daughter Gods knew what would have happened to her with no other family to care for her. She smiled at the thought of her young charge. Though she wasn't so young anymore. Bronwen would be turning seventeen in a couple months. Just before Christmas. She was a good girl. Bright in her studies, very helpful in the shop but eager to go off on her own. Well, eager to have the season her father   had promised in his will. Bronwen had saved every little penny she earned to help pay for her coming out ball.

Ali paused on the corner where her shop stood proudly smashed between a seamstress and a tailor. She sighed letting the tension of the rough night flow off her. Bronwen hadn't come home last night, though that wasn't unusual when she was working on a new hat. The creativity tended to take over and she lost track of how much time has gone by. Ali pulled the key to the front door as she crossed the cobblestone street. Bronwen had to be there. She hadn't met any boys she was interested in. At least not that she had ever mentioned to her.

Ali stopped just in front of the door. The breath froze in her chest. The door stood slightly ajar, not in a welcoming way. Her heart sped up causing her to start to tremble. Bronwen knew to keep the doors locked at all times until she was there. On shaking legs Ali pushed the door open further with her index finger. She gasped clapping her hands over her mouth as the front of the shop came into view.

"Bronwen!" She screamed running into the destroyed room. Only silence met her cry of terror.
"Bronwen! Please answer me!" She pushed through the overturned countertop not caring that all of their hard work lay shredded and torn apart on the floor. Still only her movements filled the eerily silent building.

Her throat closed as she entered the sacred back room. The back room was their creative space normally organized with trims, frippery, and hat forms. Now it was shambles of a trash heap. Every drawer had been pulled out and dumped onto the floor. Books had been opened and papers torn out. Cushions Bronwen had designed and sewn were shredded the goose feathers all over.

"Bronwen?" She hiccuped. "Please. Please answer me."

She raced up the spiral wrote iron stairs to the small second story. Bronwen was nowhere to be seen. She slid on papers strewn across the floor as she stepped further into the room. Perhaps Bronwen had gone to market or somewhere else and left a note on her desk. She glanced to the large roll top her father had left her as a child. Even the cubbies had been empty and thrown across the room. As her gaze slid across the room and the helplessness start to slink in she spotted a piece of paper stuck against the single window. Hope flared as she slid and tottled her way to the only piece that looked like it had been purposefully placed there.

Her stomach dropped. It wasn't a note from Bronwen. The writing was a man's elaborate scrawl. A ransom note.

*   *   *

"What do you mean the police won't help you? Isn't it their job to retrieve kidnap victims?"
Ali shook her head hiccuping into her handkerchief.

"They say they have too much on their hands to worry about a runaway who staged her escape. They won't listen to me. They wouldn't send anyone out to look at the destruction done at the shop."

"How awful! That's just... just..."

Tristan hugged her close. It was just like her sister to offer comfort when Ali needed advice not love. Hugging wouldn't help her get her god-daughter back.

"Let me see that note again. Perhaps I can figure something out."

"I don't see how, but here." Ali pulled it out of her simple black reticule.

"Tremayne will be home shortly. He might know someone on the force that will help."
Ali sniffled pulling the blasted pocket watch from the same pouch. She'd spent the morning looking over the piece wondering what was so important about it that someone would kidnap a young woman in order to get it back. She'd even stopped by the general store who'd traded it, but no one had been there. The shop stood in silent darkness. Had she known the trouble it was worth and traded it to be rid of it? Was Bronwen alright? Had the kidnapper hurt her or Gods forbid done something irreparable to her?

The front door slammed. She wanted to take her eyes off the clock face peaking through the intricately carved gold filigree of the outer case, but it seemed to hold a mesmerizing effect on her. Tristan's silk skirts rustled as she left the sitting room to meet who Ali could only assume was her husband, Tremayne.  Men voices mixed with Tristan's softer words. The door of the sitting room opened finally drawing her gaze away from the clock.

Embarrassed to be caught still staring at the prized ransom item, she quickly stuffed it into her reticule. Tristan glided in. Sometimes Ali felt a pang of jealousy watching her sister. As far back as she could remember she moved with a grace Ali had never found. Not to mention Tristan had actually found a man who loved her as much as she loved him. Unlike the man her stubborn heart had chosen all those years ago. She sighed.

"It'll be alright, Ali. Tremayne said he might know someone who would be willing to help."

"Really? I don't have very long. When can I meet him?"

Tristan looked back over her shoulder. "Sooner than you think."

"Miss Parker. Even though this is such a horrible time for you I am glad to see you. It has been awhile since you visited our home." Tremayne sauntered into the sitting room holding his hands out to her.

Ali stood up accepting his warm hands. He pulled her into a large hug encouraging her to sink into him. The comfort of his hold had never felt wrong. He had always made her feel like the treasured little sister he'd never had. A throat cleared behind them. Tremayne smiled setting her a little away and stepping to the side still holding her right hand.

"Alistronia Parker, I'd like to introduce you to my best friend recently of New York America, Dermot Harken. Dermot, Alistronia Parker, my sister-in-law."

Ali couldn't help staring at the man standing before her. He was tall, taller then Tremayne by a few inches, and Tremayne had been the tallest man she knew. The simple black riding jacket fit his body to perfection making her realize he didn't need the disguise of padding to look healthy. His dark hair hung loose against his collar bringing her gaze to the creases in his face. He looked like he had spent endless hours in the sun.

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am." He held out his hand.

Without conscious thought Ali slipped hers in his hold. His hands were rough with callouses and strong. Very strong, yet so gentle. Her pulse thumped against her skin as she drew back quickly.

"Likewise I'm sure." Ali turned back to Tremayne. "Do you really think you can help? Bronwen is -"

"Important, I know." Tremayne settled a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Ali nodded and fought the urge to crumble into a new sobbing fit. She squeezed her handkerchief in her left hand.

"Why don't we sit down and go over the details."

Tremayne escorted her to the settee she'd been crying on minutes earlier. Tristan sat down next to her while Dermot sat across from Ali. Ali glanced down at her hands hiding the frown marring her forehead. How could she call him by his first name? She'd never felt comfortable with men, yet this man had her relaxing into the cushions.

*   *   *

Alistronia. Such an unusual name. She fit exactly as Tremayne had described her. Except for the red puffy eyes and the tearful blue trying to avoid his gaze. Having known Tremayne since they were toddlers he hadn't been surprised at how much he cared for his sister-in-law, but seeing her personally, Dermot could see the fragility in her. As Tremayne poured them all drinks she worried the delicate lace edge handkerchief. Her gaze darted from him to the letter now sitting on the side table to her reticule attached to her pale wrist.

He breathed in silently. He shouldn't be feeling anything for anyone. He had been sent to England for recruitment and to investigate a location for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Mr. Pinkerton was hoping to spread his agents all over the world, and London was the premiere spot. He'd just happened to believe he could kill two birds with one stone. He'd immediately pulled up Tremayne's address and made contact.

"Now, my dear sister. Tell us what has happened."

She sighed her shoulders turning inwards.

"I don't know what happened. Honestly-"

Dermot took her right hand between his. Once a client is comfortable with you they will tell everything. He'd always been good with the women clients. It was one of the aspects of his personality that Mr. Pinkerton had loved about him.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

She frowned shaking her head. "I don't know where-"

"When did you receive this note?"

"This morning. I went to my shop like I do every morning..."

"Shop?"

"My millinery. Bronwen hadn't come home last night. Sometimes she looses track of the time and will work all night. When I got there... the door was open...the shop destroyed..."

Alistronia began to tremble. He rubbed her hand trying to pour some of his body heat into her.

"So you're assistant was missing and your shop destroyed?"

"She's not my assistant. She's my God-daughter. Gods, if anything happens to her..."

"If she's anything like her God-mother I'm sure she'll be fine." Tristan spoke sliding an arm around

her shoulders.

"That's not the point, Tristan. I gave my word-"

"To a dead man." Tristan sighed. "I know. I know. What I don't understand is why someone would take Bronwen. It's not like she's from a wealthy family."

"What does the kidnapper want in exchange of her safe return?"

Alistronia hesitated for a minute before finally digging into her reticule. He found himself fascinated as she pulled a gold object from the black silk bag. She held her hand out. Her fingers unfurled. In the center of her palm lay an intricate gold filigree pocket watch about the size of the American Half-dollar. Chills chased up his spine leaving in it's wake chill bumps. His mouth dried as he stared at something he thought he'd never see again. With shaking hands he reached forward. Her skin was smooth against his rough fingertips. She in hailed.

He dragged his gaze from the pocket watch up to her blue gaze. She frowned as if her reaction had confused her. Her fingers closed over the pocket watch trapping his fingers in her fist.

"I would prefer not to let this go. It's my only bargaining chip."

"I can understand that. Where did you get it? When did you purchase the watch?"

"I received it in trade. Yesterday evening."

Dermot moved so that he sat on Alistronia's right side. His leg pressed into hers as he pulled her hand towards him. If she wasn't going to let the watch out of her hand he'd look at it in her hand. If it was the one his father had put together, he'd be damned if he let her give it up to some monster who more than likely would kill her as return her God-daughter.

Her breath hitched as he unfolded her fingers. Sending her a glance from under his lashes he couldn't help but notice her pupils had dilated. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before biting it between perfect white teeth. He in hailed. Pulling his gaze away from her tempting mouth he cursed the timing. He couldn't afford a fling at the moment.

"What do you suppose the kidnapper wants with a watch? As pretty as it is, surely it can't be worth a life?"

"I suppose it depends on the importance of this piece to the kidnapper. I'd move heaven and hell itself to keep you with me, my love." Tremayne spoke to Tristan sliding fingers across the back of her neck. She smiled up at him.

"Everyone has their price." Dermot told Tristan without taking his gaze from Alistronia.

*   *   *

Ali pulled her gaze away from Dermot's intense bronze one. He was clearly warning her about something, but at the moment she couldn't make heads or tails what it was. He pushed the knob on the top and the filigree front popped open. The elegant roman numerals glowed black against the mother-of-pearl face.

"It's very beautiful." She found herself whispering.

He looked up for a second with a soft smile.

"It's very well crafted. I'd say by a master clockmaker."

"So why is it important? Why hold someone for ransom?"

"How did it come into your possession again?"

"I traded for it. The shopkeeper wanted something I provide."

"A trade?"

"Alistronia is very sought after. She is one of the best milliners in London. She's serviced the Royal family." Tristan spoke with pride.

"Tristan. I've created hats for many others besides the Royal family. Besides, the Royal family is very large and complex."

"So you traded one of your creations for this?" Dermot asked. Expecting skepticism Ali was thrown off that he sounded more intrigued. She nodded. "Do you know where the shopkeeper got the watch?"

"No. She never said, but she did seem in a hurry. She offered to sell it to me, but I wasn't willing to pay ninety pounds for it. That's when we struck the trade."

Tremayne whistled. "Ninety pounds? Pretty high cost."

Dermot flipped it over. "Though not as much as it should of been. This quality of work would cost several thousand if I know anything about clockmaking."

"Oh yes. Your father."

"My father. Have you dealt with this shopkeeper before?"

"Oh several times. She runs a general store with her husband just a couple blocks from my own."

"Are you willing to introduce us?"

"I don't understand."

"Dermot works with the Pinkerton Detective Agency is America. He's very skilled in this sort of

thing, Ali." Tremayne set his glass down on the mantle. "We grew up together, fought together and saved each other's lives on more than one occasion. You can trust him to bring Bronwen home."

"Why can't I just meet him where he wants and hand over the watch?"

"Do you really think that will work?" Tristan stood up. "You know these types of men just as well as

I do, my dear. You know Bronwen won't come home. And neither will you. Please let, Mr. Harken to help."

"I have plenty of experience and can give you my word I will bring your God-daughter home safe."

Ali sat nearly in his lap trying to figure out what his goal was. He had a hard time letting go of the watch even when she tugged it away. He seemed connected to the watch in some way. She frowned. Was it too much to ponder if he was the kidnapper? She swept a glance at Tremayne. No, he couldn't. Tremayne would never be friends with someone like that. But his willingness to "help" and his clinginess to the watch told a different story.

"I insist, Alistronia. As the head of the family, I'm hiring Dermot to bring Bronwen home safe."
Dermot wrinkled his nose. "I don't need to be hired. Besides, I'm here on an assignment."
Tremayne grabbed Dermot by the arm and dragged him out of the sitting room.

"You know once Tremayne gets something in his head he won't let it go."

Ali sighed. "I know. I suppose I'm stuck, aren't I?"

"What a way to be stuck? He's very handsome. Tremayne says he's very kind and generous. You couldn't do worse."

"I suppose not. At least he's willing to listen unlike the bobbies."

Tristan turned towards the door smiling. Ali's stomach jumped. She knew exactly what her sister was planning. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to set her up with a man. And probably wouldn't be the last. Despite her continued arguments that she's happy as she is, Tristan didn't believe her.

"Will you truly give up that watch to the kidnapper?"

"If it means getting Bronwen home, yes. I'll do anything to keep her safe."

Tristan spun around. "Even kill?"

Ali looked up locking gazes with her older sister. "Anything.”

Next Chapter will be posted October 4, 2013

Copyright Mae Pen 2013

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