The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,19
man in my office who gets me those particulars.”
“However, I’m not comfortable doing these types of things, as you know. I did meet with Miss Thompson socially a few days ago, but I won’t be seeing her again.”
Schmitt leaned forward in his seat and folded his hands in front of him on his desk. It was a classic confrontational pose Alexander had seen his employer use on many occasions.
“You may want to think twice about denying me. I’d hate to see your family embarrassed.”
“As a gesture of goodwill, I can tell you that Miss Thompson shared with me that her family came here from Scotland. But that is all the information I will be able to provide. I won’t be meeting with her again.”
“Seems strange as you just met with her at the market on Bainbridge Street last week.”
Alexander could feel the heat rising on his face. “Are you having me followed, Mr. Schmitt?”
Schmitt shrugged. “An acquaintance saw you there with your sister speaking to two young women. One of them was towing a wagon with jarred goods, and once described, I knew it was the woman from the whorehouse. It was just a coincidence that they mentioned it to me.”
Alexander did not believe him for a minute, which made him wonder if the Thompsons, and Elspeth in particular, were in danger. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, although he was careful to keep his posture relaxed and his face expressionless. “Quite a coincidence,” he said and brushed a speck of lint from his pants.
“I’m interested in learning more about the Thompsons.”
“If you can’t tell me why you need to know, you’ll have to learn it from someone other than me. And if you do tell me why, I’ll use my regular channels, but I won’t be meeting with her personally.”
“That may prove to be problematic for your mother and for poor Mrs. McMillan too,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need you to charm this Thompson woman, and I need very specific facts, including when they arrived here from Scotland and if they went by the name of Thompson before immigrating.”
“I won’t do it, Schmitt,” he said and stood. “And I’d be careful of what rumors you bandy about my mother and any other woman. I’ve heard that your son has been courting Althea Bartholomew. It just so happens that her mother is a very dear friend of my mother’s. They serve on several charity boards together. My sister and I call her Aunt Bartholomew, even though there is no blood relation. What a pity it would be if Aunt Bartholomew learned that the young man courting her daughter spends many of his days in opium dens. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Dashing your hopes of moving the Schmitt family into Philadelphia’s upper echelons.”
Alexander opened Schmitt’s door and walked down the hallway to his own office. He heard Schmitt’s office door bang open but did not turn.
“Don’t threaten my family, Pendergast. You’ll be sorry.”
Alexander put his hand on the brass knob of his office door and looked at Schmitt. “I would never dream of it, sir.”
He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He was walking a tight rope and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was determined to guard his mother and hang on to his job at the same time. He didn’t know if he’d be fired or if he’d played his hand well, but it appeared that Schmitt bought it all and would understand that he’d leveled the field. And it was not just his mother he was concerned about, he thought as he slouched down in his leather chair behind his desk and stared out the window of his office.
He didn’t know why Schmitt was interested in her and her family, but protecting Elspeth Thompson felt as natural as breathing. What did that say about his ability or determination to forget her? She was somehow, even on this short acquaintance, part of his thoughts on a regular basis. He did not dream of or envision other young women he’d met, but Elspeth was rarely far from his mind.
Chapter 7
“This is a terrible idea, Kirsty,” Elspeth said. She jostled around on the bench in the horse-driven trolley she and her sister were on, angry with herself for accepting the invitation. Kirsty was looking out the window at the scenery, oohing and aahing at the fancy homes and shops they were passing.