Chapter Eight

Lena survived her first day working alone. She wasn't sure how, but she remembered the instructions Jack had given her, and managed to accomplish more than she thought she would. She sat back in her chair and shifted her shoulders to ease her stiff back.

"It's time you went home, Lena," Jack said from the doorway. "You've been here long enough."

"I was just going to—"

"Whatever it is, you can do it tomorrow."

Lena relaxed her shoulders and stood. "You're correct. There's always tomorrow."

"You did a great job today. I knew you would, but you accomplished even more than I expected you to."

"So, you don't intend to let me go after the first day?" she said, laughing.

"Absolutely not. I'd just have to train someone new to take over your position."

"Did you manage to make some headway with your work with the railroad expenses?"

"Yes, but I realized it's going to be a much bigger job than I anticipated."

"Perhaps if I get my work done early, there will be something I can do to help you."

"There might be," he said with a smile. "For today, though, you need to go home and catch up on your sleep."

Lena met his smile and took her bonnet and reticule from the cabinet. "I'll see you in the morning," she said, walking through the door Jack held open for her.

"George should have the carriage waiting for you. If ever he's late, stay inside until he arrives."

Lena appreciated how concerned he was for her, but knew his overprotectiveness was misplaced. This was Willowbrook, for heaven's sake. It was one of the safest towns in England.

She walked past Jack with a smile, then went to the back door. George was already waiting for her, but she knew he would be. She walked to the carriage and stepped inside.

"Did you have a good day, miss?" he asked before he closed the door.

"Very good, thank you, George."

"I'm glad. Mr. Corbin is a good employer."

"Yes, he is," she said softly as George climbed atop the carriage and they moved off.

It only took a few minutes to arrive at Corbin House. Lena bade George goodnight and walked to the house.

"Hello, Franklin," she greeted the butler.

"Hello, Miss Osbourne."

"Is my sister close?"

"Yes, Miss Osbourne. She's in the library with Mr. Prescott and Mattie."

"Oh, is Mr. Prescott here?"

"Yes, he's been here for most of the afternoon."

"Thank you, Franklin," she said, then headed to the library.

When Lena reached the room, she stopped at the door. She could hear Brad talking in a deep voice, and after listening for a few seconds, she realized he was reading. Lena opened the door and stepped into the room.

Brad saw her and stopped reading, then stood with a finger keeping his place in the book.

"Don't stop," Essie said, sitting up straighter.

"I have to, Essie. We have company."

"Lena!" she called out. "Is that you?"

"It is. What is Brad reading to you?"

"The Count of Monte Cristo," she answered. "You read it to me before, but Brad said he's never read it, so I told him I wanted to hear it again."

"Are you enjoying it?" Lena asked.

"Very much. It's quite exciting," Brad answered.

"I knew you'd like it," Essie said, and smiled at him. He returned her smile even though she couldn't see it.

Brad shifted his gaze to focus on Lena. "How was your day?"

"There's much to learn," Lena admitted, sitting. "I discovered several more things I needed to do in order to keep good records."

"Did Jack help you?"

"Yes, he was a great help. I couldn't have managed without him."

"What surprised and intrigued you the most?"

"Oh, that's an interesting question." Lena thought for a few seconds. "I think what surprised me the most is the amount of money the club takes in from the tables. I didn't realize that men could risk such amounts so cavalierly."

"It is amazing, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, but what intrigued me most was the number of men who visited the club. Not the gaming tables, but the number who came to occupy time chatting with other men, or to read the newspapers, or just to conduct business. I didn't realize there was such a need for Jackson's Gentlemen's Club. It made me wonder if a ladies' club would be as successful?"

"What an interesting idea," Brad said. "We might need to consider that someday."

"Yes, that would be interesting. I wonder what Jack would think of that."

"You might be surprised," Brad said as food for thought. They were silent for a moment, then he closed the book and stood. "It's time I returned to the club. I usually start my shift about this time." He reached for Essie's hand and brought her fingers to his lips. "Thank you for a wonderful afternoon."

"I was the one who had the wonderful afternoon. I so enjoyed your visit. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Perhaps," he said.

"Oh, I hope so."

"I'll look forward to tomorrow, then," he said, and left.

Lena listened until she heard the outside door close after him before either of them spoke.

"What does he look like, Lena?"

"Mr. Prescott?" she answered, hesitancy in her voice.

"Yes. You know how I can touch a person's face and get an idea of what they look like."

"Yes."

"I tried to touch Brad's face, but he wouldn't let me. He held my hands so I couldn't. What reason could he have for not wanting me to know what he looks like? Is he so terribly ugly?"

"No, Essie. He is not ugly. In fact, I believe that before the war he was quite handsome."

"What happened to him during the war?"

"He and Jack were captured by the enemy and tortured."

Essie's hands flew to her face, and she released a small cry. "Is he scarred?"

"Yes, Essie. Quite severely. He has an ugly scar that runs down the right side of his face from his temple to below his jaw. Jack mentioned that Brad avoids going out in public where ladies are present because of their reaction. It's my opinion that he only feels comfortable around you because you cannot see him."

"I see," Essie whispered. "I never thought I would be glad for my blindness, but if it helps Brad feel comfortable around me, then I am."

Lena reached for Essie's hand and held it. "You are so sweet, Essie. Papa always said God has a purpose for everything He does, and I believe he was right. Perhaps one of your purposes is to be a special friend to Brad and help him be more comfortable around people."

"And perhaps one of Brad's purposes is to be a special friend to me."

"Yes. Perhaps you have both found a special purpose in life. Now," Lena said as she squeezed Essie's hand, "I have asked Cook to prepare an early dinner for us. I have had a tiring day and would like to retire early tonight. Is that all right with you?"

"Of course," Essie said. "Before Franklin calls us for dinner, would you help me choose another book? I think I'll have Betsy read to me for a while after dinner. I don't want to read ahead of where we left off on The Count of Monte Cristo so Brad and I remain on the same page."

"That sounds wise."

Lena rose from her chair and went to the shelves. She named several titles, and Essie finally settled on Gulliver's Travels. Lena gave her the book, and they talked a few more minutes before Franklin announced that dinner was ready.

Lena ate, then bade Essie good night and went to bed. Surely, she was so tired that she would go right to sleep.

Ifshe could keep from thinking of Jack and the kiss they'd shared the night before.

*

The next dayand the next went better than the days before. By the end of the second week, Lena almost had her routine down to perfection. She arrived on time, if not a little early, every day and counted out her money, then got it ready for Jack and Brad to take to the bank.

It still bothered her when Jack removed his gun from the bottom drawer of the desk, but she told herself she shouldn't be alarmed. He'd been in the army and was used to firearms. Growing up in the vicar's parsonage, she was certainly not.

While Jack was gone, Lena entered the amounts from the day before in her ledger, then added all the columns to make sure her totals came out. Usually by the time he and Brad returned, she was ready to put her books away. Then she went to Jack's office and asked if there was anything she could do for him. There always was.

She worked on whatever he wanted her to do, then took a few minutes to watch the action on the floor below. Today she was bothered by some of the day's totals that seemed strange to her, but she was sure she had imagined it.

It was getting late, and Lena was just ready to leave for the day when Jack entered her office.

"Are you still here?" he asked. He carried a glass of brandy into the room and sat in the chair next to her.

"I was almost ready to go home," she said with a tired smile.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pointing to the paper she had in her lap.

"I'm just making notes."

Jack leaned over and glanced at what she had written. A frown creased his forehead. "What is this?" he asked.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever had any of your dealers take from your club?"

"Are you suggesting that one of my dealers is dishonest?"

Lena closed her eyes. She should have known that he would skip over the possibilities and go right to her accusation. "Perhaps, but I can't be sure."

"I think you'd better tell me where this is coming from." Jack's voice contained a harsh edge, and the expression on his face darkened. "What are you suggesting, Lena?"

"Very well," she said with a sigh. "But I could be wrong. I've only been doing this for a few weeks."

"But you caught on very fast, and you know what you're doing."

"I just want you to make sure before you take my word at face value."

"I will. I check out anything I hear, regardless of who says it. I always make sure I'm right before I accuse anyone of anything."

Lena sighed again. "Good. There are nine tables below us on the floor."

"Yes," he replied.

"Which table do you think is your most popular table?"

"That would be table one."

"Yes," she agreed. "It's a poker table."

He nodded.

"It's also the table that takes in the most money on a nightly basis. About three weeks ago, the daily take from table one decreased substantially for two nights."

"That could just mean that those were slow nights at the club."

"But they weren't. The nights were in general exceptionally good."

Jack looked down to watch the activity at table one, then sat back in his chair. "Go on."

"I took note of who the dealer was on table one, thinking that the same man would remain on table one, but that wasn't the case. The dealer did not always remain the same."

"No, the dealers rotate throughout the week. Your point being…?"

"I've spent the last three weeks following that particular dealer every night and making note of what table he worked, then comparing the intake of that table."

"What did you find out?"

"His table always has several poor nights."

"Stay here," he told her as he rose from his chair. "I want to get Brad."

Jack left the room, then soon returned with Brad. He poured his friend a glass of whiskey, then handed it to him. "Tell Brad what you just told me, Lena."

Lena started her explanation with the same warning she'd given Jack: to verify her accusations before doing anything about them. Then she related the same details that she had told Jack. When she finished, Brad and Jack exchanged serious looks.

"This is the first time we've had a thief in our employ," Brad said.

"That we know of," Jack added.

"Yes, that we know of. So," Brad said before throwing the last of his whiskey to the back of his throat. "What are we going to do about it?"

"We're going to watch his every move to make sure what Lena suspects is true, then we're going to catch him in the act."

Brad nodded, then walked to the window and looked down at the busy floor below. "How does he do it?"

Jack turned to where Lena sat watching the action below. "Do you know, Lena?"

"Not for sure," she answered. "I've been watching him for more than a week now, and I haven't figured it out. All I know is that when he's working, he takes several more breaks than any of the other dealers."

"There he goes," Brad said. "He just motioned for the floor supervisor to step in for him."

Lena looked down to try to follow his movements, but before she could see anything, Brad was out the door and racing to the stairs. He intended to follow the dealer. Lena hoped Brad could see where he went.

When he was gone, she was left alone with Jack. "I hope I'm wrong about your dealer," she said. "I don't want him to be a thief."

Jack looked at her and smiled. "I don't want him to be a thief either, but the world isn't the perfect place we want it to be."

"I know," Lena said, realizing Jack considered her na?ve view impossible.

"Now," he said. "You've been here long enough. You need to get home before Essie accuses me of working you too much and demands that I give you at least one day off on a regular basis."

"Essie knows how busy we are, and how much time it takes to keep the club running, as well as the additional time it takes to make sure the materials are here for the railroad workers when they need them."

"And I know Brad stops in to see her at least once a day," he said with a wink.

"Yes," she replied. "They seem to get along quite well."

"Yes, they do," Jack said, walking her to the door.

He stopped when he reached the door and let his gaze focus on her. Lena wanted him to kiss her, yet knew she shouldn't allow him to take such liberties, especially after what happened the last time she'd let him kiss her. And yet she wanted him to kiss her more than anything.

With their gazes locked, he lowered his head and brought his lips close to hers. A loud knock on the door interrupted them a moment before he kissed her.

Jack lifted his head and turned to the door as it opened.

"Am I interrupting something?"