The Incredibly Irritating Irishman: Book Three of the Conn-Mann Chronicles Read online

  Opal took the extended hand.

  “I’m ever so obliged, Mrs. Carrouthers.”

  They walked along in companionable silence for several blocks, then stopped before an imposing wooden structure with tall arched windows and a columned porch.

  “It’s lovely,” Opal breathed. “Is it a church?”

  Millicent Carrouthers laughed. “Some of my customers think so.”

  “Customers…?”

  “Gentlemen callers, you might say,” she replied with a wink.

  Opal had always been quick-witted. Her eyes widened. “This is a pleasure house?” she gasped.

  “Oh, yes, my dear. A house of great pleasure.”

  Opal was in a quandary. She was a good Christian girl…

  ...But a girl had to eat.

  — Garrett Goldthwaite

  Old-Fashioned Opal and the House of Ill-Repute

  Chapter 2

  I must have been tireder than I thought, because the next time I woke, it was morning again.

  For an instant, I had a moment of pure peace.

  Priss curled beside me on the pillow just like she always does. The kittens mewled softly in their box. The sun streamed in through the skylights. It was perfect.

  And then the soft mewling became strident yowls of hunger. Priss growled at being awakened. The peaceful moment shattered.

  I sighed, and threw back the coverlet. I must have become chilled after my conversation with Fred in the middle of the night, because I had originally gone to sleep on top of my bedclothes in my best party dress.

  I grimaced ruefully. It would take a miracle to get the wrinkles out of the silk.

  Ah well. Time to start the day.

  I got up and splashed water on my face. It felt deliciously refreshing, and helped to clear my head of the last cobwebs.

  I slipped out of the mussed gown and dressed in something more appropriate for work. This was to be our first full day occupying the new laboratory. It seemed like forever since I had actually performed the job that Alistair was still paying me weekly to do.

  By the time I was ready to go downstairs, I had half-convinced myself that the stranger, with his outrageous announcement, was another dream. Until I rounded the door into the kitchen for breakfast—and saw Seamus O’Leary holding court at Ma’s dinner table.

  “There she is!” he exclaimed the moment he saw me. “The future Mrs. O’Leary.”

  I held my temper despite the provocation. After all, his wishing didn’t make it so. I forced a smile to my lips.

  “Please pass the butter, Alistair,” I said in my sweetest tones, as I settled myself into my usual chair across from him, snapping out my napkin and placing it properly across my lap. “What will we be working on today?”

  Seamus, I ignored completely.

  Alistair blinked. “I thought you might be busy with your cousin today, Miss Mann.”

  Back to Miss Mann again, were we? I’d soon see about that!

  I sniffed and proceeded to butter my toast. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “I just assumed—”

  “Quite foolish of you.”

  I swallowed my irritation with my toast. The nuns always told me that you could catch more flies with honey, after all. And it wasn’t Alistair’s fault that Seamus had come to town. The poor dear was looking completely at sea, but there was absolutely no way I was going to be left behind with Mr. O’Leary while Alistair and Fred were off at the workshop inventing. Not this time.

  “Besides,” I continued, “I am sure Mr. O’Leary has his own lodgings to return to. As soon as possible.”

  Seamus—if he was my cousin, I supposed there was no point in trying to be formal—beamed at me across the coffee pot. “Oh no, m’dear. Miz Stark has graciously offered me a room here in this establishment.”

  I choked on a bit of toast, and Fred had to thump me quite vigorously on the back to dislodge it. It seemed to me she could have gone a bit easier on me, and I glowered at her for the extreme force used, but she shrugged and returned her attention to her eggs.

  I counted to ten in my head and took a deep breath. “You will be staying here?” I asked Seamus. “Ma—”

  My traitorous landlady shrugged as well. “Seems reasonable to me, luv. You two appear to have quite a bit to sort out, and Mr. Thurston’s room was just settin’ empty. After all—” She pointed out, with a trace of a frown. “—this is me place o’ business.” The hint of brogue that I had noticed in Ma’s voice from time to time was broadening with every moment she spent in Seamus’s company.

  Ma’s gentle rebuke made me remember an incident a few days before, when I heard her asking the grocery boy if she could bring round payment at the end of the week. I knew that normally she paid on delivery…having an empty room might be more hardship than she let on. Mr. Thurston had gone to live with his daughter several weeks ago—he had been elderly, and not in the best health, so it had been decided he could no longer live on his own.

  “I suppose there is nothing to be done about it, then,” I conceded reluctantly. If Ma really needed the money, I couldn’t be selfish. “But I refuse to lose another day of work.”

  Alistair opened his mouth as if to speak.

  I kicked him under the table. He winced. Whatever he had been about to say, what came out was “Yes, of course. We have postponed those tests of Phaeton’s abilities far longer than I like.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why don’t I come t’ tha workshop with ya, Perfessor Conn. I have some things I would like yer opinion on.” Seamus beamed us all a smile. “And I would like to see this marvelous mechanical man I’ve bin hearin’ about.”

  Ma suddenly gasped. “Oh! That reminds me, Perfessor. There was a messenger come yesterday mornin’ before you all got back t’ town. In all the excitement, I clean forgot!”

  Ma had declined to stay for the full reception the other night because she had biscuits to make and elderly tenants to look after.

  She is an extremely conscientious landlady, despite my earlier grousing. She, Aunt Emily, and Roderick had returned early in the evening, as soon as the wedding itself was over, and then Roderick had come back for us.

  Now, she pulled a creased envelope out of the pocket of her apron and handed it to Alistair, a worried frown wrinkling her brow. “I hope it ain’t bad news, Perfessor. It looks frightfully official.”

  Alistair frowned in turn, handing me the envelope. “Jo, could you…?”

  “Of course, Alistair,” I murmured, slitting it open with my butter knife and handing it back to him.

  He adjusted his glasses with his good hand, and awkwardly removed the single sheet of heavy paper, scanning it swiftly. “Good Lord.”

  “What is it, Alistair?” I was worried by the way the color had leached from his face.

  “Do you remember the incident at the Central Park Menagerie the other day?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  How could I not? Phaeton had been provoked into accidentally knocking a schoolboy off his feet. To be fair, the child had been plucking at the automaton’s clothing as if he were no more than a piece of motionless statuary, but I had been afraid we had not seen the last of the matter. Even though the boy had not been hurt—other than his pride—Phaeton’s sheer size played against him in the matter. From the look on Alistair’s face, it appeared my fears were justified.

  “It seems that the boy’s parents have lodged a formal complaint against Phaeton, and me as his owner. I am to deliver him to police headquarters at once pending determination of his disposition.”

  “That’s absolutely ridiculous!” A wave of anger washed over me, lifting me to my feet and dislodging my napkin to the floor.

  This was beyond the pale! I had worked too hard on Phaeton—well, at least on his development—to allow him to be imprisoned, or worse, destroyed, because of a child’s pique. “We must go down to the Precinct House at once and get to the bottom of this affair. Kevin—Inspector Reilly—will soon sort it
out for us.”

  “That may or may not be possible,” Alistair cautioned, removing his glasses and setting them on the table as he rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not at all sure the matter falls under his jurisdiction.”

  “Well, surely it’s the place to start!” I bent to retrieve my napkin from the floor, and folded it with shaking hands, glad to have something to do to help calm my nerves. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long. “Unless you have other friends on the police force? Go and get your coat, Alistair. We will soon straighten this matter out.”

  “Kin I be o’ any assistance?” Seamus asked eagerly, surging to his feet and nearly upsetting the cream.

  “I don’t see how,” I told him coolly.

  Fred raised an eyebrow at my tone, but I didn’t care. Surely, after the heart-to-heart we had had the night before she would understand that I had to be sure to put the gentleman in his place whenever possible. I was not about to encourage him—flattering though his attentions might be.

  After all, what girl doesn’t want a mysterious stranger to appear out of nowhere and offer her his hand in marriage? It is the stuff of daydreams, of flights of fancy—but it’s not the stuff of practical reality.

  I was quite content with the beau I had—thank you very much—and Seamus O’Leary was only serving to complicate matters. Something I was not about to let happen as hard as I had worked to get him to this point. Alistair was the only man I wanted, and I was determined to have him.

  I reached across the table and picked up Alistair’s glasses, cleaning them with my napkin. The poor man would need a lot of attention until his cast was removed.

  Seamus’s face fell at my rejection, and my resolve faltered—for an instant. After all, he was family—perhaps the only family I had left. The Good Book says we are to honor family. Tradition also says family is so very important…

  But Seamus was not Alistair. Alistair, who had won my heart the day we met…though it had taken him quite a long time to notice.

  Still, there was no call to be rude to Seamus.

  “Surely you have items to retrieve from your previous lodgings?” I asked kindly. “We shan’t be long. We will probably beat you back here. Didn’t you say you had something you wished to show Alistair? Go and fetch it, and when you return, we can discuss matters further with clearer heads.”

  He nodded, like a big shaggy puppy when you offer it a crumb of kindness. Of course, I am a cat person, so the analogy didn’t sway me.

  Alistair had paused in the doorway. “I’m going to go and fetch Phaeton. Stay here until I get back, Jo.”

  I thought a moment. If we took him with us to the precinct house, he would be at the mercy of the police force—if he could even fit through the door! On the other hand, if we did not, they might come and seize him while we were gone.

  I decided to err on the side of caution. After all, Phaeton would not be easy to seize if he were disinclined to cooperate, and I had spoken to him at length previously about going anywhere with people with whom we had not authorized him to do so. He was rather trusting for a being of his size.

  “Wait, Alistair! If we take him with us, it might just make things worse. Tell him to remain in his storeroom until you tell him otherwise. That should keep him out of trouble.”

  “I still think we should cooperate with the summons. It could be disastrous if we don’t.”

  “But if we do, we might lose him prematurely to red tape. Let us talk to Kevin first and get his input.”

  “I suppose you do have a point. I’ll go and see about transportation after I have spoken to Phaeton. Meet me out front.”

  I brushed the last crumbs from my frock and went to get my hat.

  Mrs. Carrouthers gave her a wink.

  “Don’t worry, Opal. No one expects you to do anything more than a spot of cleaning, I promise. The girls might ask for a bit of help with their laundry, but they won’t ask for anything else from you.”

  They entered the front of the establishment, and Mrs. Carrouthers clapped her hands.

  “Girls! Come and meet Opal. She’s going to help around the house.”

  Doorways opened upstairs and down, and a bevy of young women poured out. Blondes, brunettes, redheads—all shapes and sizes.

  Opal gawked at their clothing—or lack thereof. What on Earth had she gotten herself into?

  “Mrs. O’Malley, could you take Opal up to her room and get her a uniform? She’ll be joining the cleaning staff in the morning. But tonight, we will welcome her in style.”

  — Garrett Goldthwaite

  Old-Fashioned Opal and the House of Ill-Repute

  Chapter 3

  Sadly, we were without a convenient carriage presently—not that we had ever had one of our own, but we had previously enjoyed the use of Aunt Emily’s conveyance whenever we required it. However, a wicked man forced Roderick to lose control of her transport recently, and the resulting upset damaged the vehicle beyond repair. At least the horses had been unharmed. All that is beside the point, of course. Since we were without a carriage of our own, William Vanderbilt had told us to keep one of the vehicles in which he had sent us home from the wedding for as long as might be necessary.

  I was becoming quite enamored of the luxuries built into it—from the extra plush seat cushions to the convenient railed shelf just under the roof where one could place a handbag or hat without fear it would go plunging off and hit someone if an abrupt stop was necessary.

  I had already been in consultation with Roderick and Alistair about implementing some of these features in our next carriages—which were taking longer to begin than I had expected, though at least I had finally convinced Alistair to order one of our own as well. We had been offered a place in Aunt Emily’s carriage house to store it.

  As Roderick turned the horses downtown towards the precinct house—yet again—I turned my thoughts towards my hoped-for solution to our problem. Kevin Reilly was a staunch ally on the force—and I believed the business with Bridget and Nettie about the blackmail might have swayed their uncle, Sergeant Doyle, to our side—but there were other members of the constabulary that would not be so willing to help. Like Kevin’s superior, Captain Caldicott, who was downright rude to me at our last meeting.

  He had pooh-poohed my concerns about the blackmailer’s identity—though, of course, I was later proven to be correct—and had gone so far as to threaten my arrest if I did not desist in my investigation.

  Of course, I ignored him.

  No, it would be best to avoid Captain Caldicott at all costs.

  By the time we arrived at the station, I resolved we should speak only to Kevin Reilly. To facilitate that, I told Roderick to pull the borrowed carriage around the side of the building so that Alistair and I could ascend the back stair.

  Alistair frowned. “Josephine Mann! I will not skulk about like some servant. We have a perfectly legitimate reason for being here. The front door would be the correct entrance. This is official business, after all.”

  Alistair is perhaps the most intelligent human being I have ever met, but the poor dear has the common sense God gave a goat.

  “Precisely why we don’t want to go through the front door, Alistair. If we are here on official business, why do we not have Phaeton with us? That is the first question anyone besides Kevin is likely to ask. At least he will allow us a chance to plead our case without clapping us in irons for contempt of the summons.”

  He shook his head. “You read far too many dime novels, Josephine.” Still, with a heavy sigh, he turned to the coachman. “Wait for us here, Roderick. If we don’t return within the hour, please go back to Aunt Emily’s and ask my mother to come round and bail us out.”

  “Very good, Master Alistair,” Roderick replied—and, I swear, he was struggling to suppress a smile.

  Lifting my skirts, I sniffed—it seemed like I was doing a lot of that these days. Either I needed a new sign of disapproval, or I was coming down with a cold.

  I spun on my heel to lead th
e way up the steep staircase. My momentum nearly over-balanced me, but Alistair put out a steadying hand.

  “Careful, Jo. The last thing we need is another invalid,” he remonstrated, glancing ruefully at the plaster encasing his broken limb.

  I was touched by his worry. “Thank you for your concern, Alistair,” I said softly, “but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  With that, I picked my way up the remainder of the steps and twisted the knob on the door to the precinct house at the top.

  It was locked.

  I was flabbergasted. Never, in all our dealings with Kevin Reilly, had this door been locked.

  Of course—it suddenly struck me—never in all our dealings with Kevin Reilly had we gone in this door. We had always come through it from the other side.

  I was not pleased. My grand entrance was ruined. Not to mention the fact that I must concede Alistair had been correct in his assertion all along—we would need to enter through the front door.

  I kicked the panel in frustration, succeeding only in bruising my toe, and started back down the steps. I hadn’t descended more than three when the door was wrenched open to a growl of “What the devil—Josephine?”

  I felt my face heat as I turned to find Kevin Reilly gaping at me from the open doorway.

  The bang on the door must have drawn him to investigate. His office was quite close to the portal.

  “Inspector Reilly,” I replied sweetly. “You remember my employer, Professor Conn?”

  A distinct look of distaste flickered across Kevin’s rugged features before he nodded in Alistair’s direction with a cool, “Professor. I see you survived your recent kidnapping ordeal relatively unscathed.”

  Now what was that about? I had never known Kevin to be so rude. Not even in Caldicott’s presence when he was basically calling me a fool.