Masked by Moonlight. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ would welcome him. San Francisco seems to be in dreadfully short supply of men with noble character—present company excepted, of course.”

      Matthew wondered, by the way she said it, if she’d added the last remark out of sheer obligation rather than any genuine respect for the men in the room.

      “Georgia doubts my sources, Mrs. Hawkins. She feels I manufactured the whip’s appearance to sell papers. That I’m printing shameless gossip rather than verifiable facts. As if I’d ever print anything but the honest truth.”

      “Stuart Waterhouse,” laughed the rather besotted man next to him, “when have you ever printed the honest truth?”

      “Miss Waterhouse, it seems to me that you endure much on your brother’s behalf,” Matthew offered, because it seemed that no one else in the room gave a thought to her obvious discomfort. “How do you find the strength?”

      She smiled—just a bit, and only for a second, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Hours and hours of prayer, Mr. Covington. I have been known to take my frustrations out on the upper strings of my harp—I am forever breaking them—but mostly it requires endless prayer.” She kept her tone light and conversational, but he noted an edge of weariness in her glance.

      Matthew looked around the table and thought Miss Waterhouse must have a penchant for lost causes. “That’s far too large a load for such delicate shoulders. Perhaps one ought to leave such a Herculean task to the likes of the Black Bandit.” The last remark jumped out of his mouth seemingly of its own accord, before he had one second to think better of it.

      “Speaking of Herculean tasks, Mr. Covington,” declared Stuart, “I think it’s high time you visited Georgia’s precious Grace House. They’re always working to save the world over there. What do you say to a tour tomorrow?”

      “Appealing as it sounds, I am expecting some documents to arrive from Sacramento in the morning. Perhaps another time?”

      Dexter Oakman nearly jumped out of his seat, opposite Stuart. “Oh, gracious, I’d completely forgotten, Covington. Meant to tell you before dinner.” He put down his glass. “Those documents won’t be in until Tuesday, perhaps Wednesday. The wire came in this afternoon.”

      “Well,” said Stuart, smiling broadly, “events are conspiring in your favor, aren’t they? Tour Grace House, then. Reverend Bauers and his high-minded companions will make excellent chaperones. I’ve even heard nuns work there.”

      “I hardly think Reverend Bauers has time to conduct social outings,” said Georgia.

      “Nonsense,” her brother replied. “You might even convince Covington to send over a spot of money to help the needy.” He turned to Matthew. “Mind your pockets, Covington. My sister can be most compelling when it comes to philanthropy.”

      Of that, Matthew had little doubt.

      Chapter Nine

      The clock chimed quarter past the hour as Stuart refilled his glass and Oakman’s. “Did you have any trouble?”

      Dexter winced. “Some. It took a bit more grease across the palm to get them diverted, but we’ll see those ledgers from Sacramento before Covington does. We’ll have to be careful.”

      Stuart picked up the poker and stirred the fire. The gold-orange flames flickered, reflecting in amber liquid in his glass. “I’m always careful. Georgia’s just making my job that much easier. We practically waltzed into that tour of the mission this evening. I hadn’t yet worked out how I was going to get Covington out of the office for a few hours in order to switch things. Honestly, I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

      “I did follow your line of thinking, Stuart.” Oakman groaned, rubbing his leg. “Was it really necessary to bash my shin under the table? You’ve left a mark.”

      “Sorry about that, Dex.” Stuart replaced the poker and walked over to the chair where he sat. “I hadn’t time to be subtle. And speaking of marks…” He lowered his voice even though they were completely alone. “You’re sure of this fellow? They’ll be no trace of the alterations?”

      Oakman drained his glass. “He’s the top man, they tell me.”

      Stuart frowned. “Remind our friend that it won’t go at all well for him if anyone can notice his…handiwork.”

      “Oh, I believe he knows.” Oakman smiled.

      “Make sure,” Georgia’s brother said, sipping from his own glass. “Show him your shin if you think that will help. I want no slips on this. Not one.”

      The man nodded, forcing a weak laugh. “Without a hitch, Stuart. It’ll come off without a hitch.”

      Waterhouse began loosening the knot in his cravat. “Tell your wife there’ll be a lovely piece about her dress tonight in the social column this week. She looked stunning at dinner, and we haven’t run something about her yet this month. She deserves it.”

      “She’ll be very pleased to hear that, Stuart. You’re always so good to her. And Caroline does love to see her name in the columns, you know.”

      Everybody does, thought Stuart. Everybody always does.

      “It’s not a grand cathedral, but I rather fancy God enjoys it here.” Georgia ran her hand across the adobe arch of the mission’s side doorway, and a piece of the facade crumbled under her touch. “She’s put up a grand fight over the years, and she’s still standing. Reverend Bauers excels at what he calls ‘making do at making do.’”

      “That really means finding new sources for bandages, making food go three times as far, and squeezing yet one more use out of most any object,” explained the reverend as he led Georgia and Mr. Covington out into the gardens.

      They’d not gone three steps when a noisy commotion started somewhere off to their left, by the kitchens. Within seconds a pair of youths burst through the door, bundles in their hands. It was clear they hadn’t expected to find anyone in the garden.

      “Thief!” a voice cried from inside. “Stop them!”

      Georgia gasped as she realized what the boys were carrying. Poking out of one of the bundles was a gold cross from the mission’s tiny chapel. After glancing quickly at each other, they split up, running around the garden fountain toward the gate. Without any discussion whatsoever, Mr. Covington and Reverend Bauers set upon them, Covington taking the larger of the pair.

      Georgia backed up to the fountain rim as a brawl broke out around her. “Help! In the garden!” she called as arms and legs thrashed.

      As large as they’d seemed coming through the door, the boys were still rather young, and it was only a minute—albeit a dreadfully long one—before each was subdued. Grunting, they struggled against the grip of Reverend Bauers and Mr. Covington.

      “How dare you!” the reverend huffed at his captive, as angry as Georgia had ever seen him.

      In that second, the larger boy managed to pull out of Covington’s grasp and slide something metal from his boot. It was a knife, which he quickly waved at Matthew.

      No one moved. The mission cook burst through the door, only to freeze on the threshold СКАЧАТЬ