An Agent for Alexandra Page 9

  Tucker shook the man’s hand, satisfied with the firm grip and calloused hands. “Tucker Carlton, sir.” He smiled at the man ruefully. “And might I say, sir, that you do not have the hands of a businessman?”

  That earned him a nod, and a more genuine smile from the older man. “Neither do you, son.”

  “So my wife tells me,” Tucker sighed with a wink towards Alexandra.

  She laughed lightly. “Neither does my uncle, Mr. Teague. Y’all are just a collection of hard-working, self-made men. What are we poor, dainty, soft-handed women to do?”

  “Marry us,” someone around them called out. “And teach us our better manners!”

  Alexandra turned towards the shout and curtseyed very slightly. “I am sure your wife has a time of it with you, sir, but I commend her for her efforts.”

  “Speaking of efforts,” Mr. Teague broke in, turning to Alexandra, “let me take the two of you over to my wife. I think she would very much like to meet you.”

  “That would be simply charming,” Alexandra dimpled with a nod. “I have heard a great deal about her, and am wild to make her acquaintance for myself.”

  Mr. Teague offered his arm to her. “Let it never be said that I kept a lady waiting.” He nodded at Tucker, who returned it, and the three of them moved through the people with ease.

  “Did I understand that you recently formed a partnership out here, sir?” Tucker asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “I did, yes,” came the almost bored reply. “One that could improve the accessibility of my interests to those wishing to invest, as well as securing for my company an increase in notoriety.”

  That was an interesting claim, if a bit vague. “In what ways, if I may ask?”

  Alexandra gave him an exasperated look. “Tucker, we are at a party. Can we not avoid the topic of business for one evening?”

  Teague chuckled and patted her hand. “Pay it no mind, Mrs. Carlton. True men of business find themselves discussing the topic even socially. It is our favorite conversation second to our wives.”

  “I wonder if you would say the same thing if I were not currently on your arm,” Alexandra mused impishly. “I don’t believe men choose to discuss their wives for their own pleasure unless it is to disparage us.”

  “I never disparage my wife,” Tucker insisted with wide-eyed innocence. “Do you, Teague?”

  “Never,” came the immediate reply. “Not even once.”

  “Oh, really, Lawrence…” a low feminine voice said, her tone filled with amusement. “You’ll make them think you’re a paragon of husbandly virtue.”

  An elegant woman with fair hair and a warm smile stood nearby, another striking couple beside her. She eyed Mr. Teague, her lips pursing, waiting for a reply.

  Teague shrugged. “It’s good for the image, Collette.” He quickly introduced them to his wife, then turned to the other couple. “And this is my new partner, Marshall Creet and his wife Anna.”

  Tucker reached out a hand, which was belatedly taken. “Tucker Carlton, Mr. Creet. And this is my wife, Alexandra.”

  Creet was older than Tucker would have expected, and his wife younger than he would have expected, but both were attractive, well-dressed, and bore the same sort of blank expression.

  A strangely perfect match, then.

  How fortunate for them.

  “Mrs. Creet,” Alexandra gushed, wasting no time in building on the new connection, “that is the most stunning necklace I have ever seen, and it does flatter your gown and your complexion with such perfection. I am envious to the extreme just looking at you.”

  Tucker thought that was a bit much for flattery, but, as his wife had said, this was her specialty, and he really wasn’t that well-practiced in this area.

  “You are too kind,” Mrs. Creet murmured, her voice barely reaching them, though they were standing rather close. “It was a gift from my husband on the event of this partnership.”

  “And more will come, if it proves as fruitful as we think it will,” her husband boasted, the volume of his voice making them all jump compared to the comparative whisper of his wife. “Great things await us, I am sure.”

  Mrs. Teague smiled politely, raising her glass in a half-toast. “From your mouth to God’s ears, Mr. Creet.”

  He smiled at the hostess, though the smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I tend to leave God out of business affairs, Mrs. Teague. He has his work, and I have mine.”

  Being the good Christian woman of the South she was, Alexandra quickly crossed herself, her eyes darting to Tucker, who dipped his chin in the smallest nod, smiling a little.

  “And what is your work, Mr. Creet, if I may inquire?” Tucker asked, taking in the man with new interest.

  His suit was new, that was evident, and the fabric very fine. The gold watch dangling from his vest pocket was also new, or simply extremely well cared for. Yet the man’s knuckles bore the faintest abrasions, healing well, and his fingernails had a slight dirty edge to them.

  And the callouses Tucker had felt on his hands with the handshake had been the roughest of any businessman yet.

  “Shipping, Mr. Carlton,” Creet replied, his smile tight. “I have most of the interests taking place on the Portland docks.”

  Ah ha… Now that was something of interest to Tucker and the mission at hand.

  Tucker smiled with real pleasure at the man. “Now that is an impressive statement, sir. I’ve seen the docks, and it is quite the operation.”

  “Why else would a man with Teague’s vast experience and interests partner with me?” Creet chuckled with the same tension he seemed to live with. “Connections are everything, you know, and in business, you cannot survive without them.”

  “I believe the same can be said for social ties as well,” Alexandra pointed out, flashing her usual charming smile. “You won’t get very far if you don’t know the right people, and those that you do know can provide distinct advantages.”

  Mr. Creet bowed to her, his smile far warmer for her. “As your presence tonight so perfectly illustrates, Mrs. Carlton.”

  There was nothing particularly aggressive in his words, but something about the way he said them started something to snarl within Tucker, and he shifted a little closer to his wife, letting his arm brush hers.

  In response, she leaned into him, her fingers grazing against his leg.

  “Indeed, Mr. Creet,” Alexandra replied, her tone sending off several warming bells in Tucker’s mind. He knew this tone well, and for the first time, he smiled in sheer delight at hearing it.

  Mostly because it wasn’t directed at him.

  But his absolutely favorite part of this tone was the promise that whatever she said, the opposite was, in fact, the real intent.

  He settled in for an entertaining opportunity.

  “In truth, my husband and I are most fortunate that we happened to have a connection with the Teagues here,” Alexandra went on, her fingers still at his leg. “I have no social graces myself, and must rely on the goodness and charity of my friends and associates to assist me. Intelligent, handsome, and gifted though my husband here may be, his attention is always so devoted to business that he cannot be relied upon to fill my need for social connection. Thankfully, this evening we are able to combine the two, and both find our nights so very fulfilling. What a blessing it is to meet such marvelous people like you. I am quite overcome by it all.”

  Tucker wasn’t sure how he avoided choking on his laughter, let alone biting clear through his lips, but somehow it was managed, and he could not help slipping an arm around his brilliant wife’s waist, if for no other reason than to show his support.

  Mrs. Teague looked between Alexandra and Mr. Creet with some speculation, and Tucker sensed she knew more than she let on, rather like her husband might. She smiled a little and looked at Alexandra again, her eyes narrowing. “And what brings the two of you to Portland, Mrs. Carlton? Clearly you are from the South.”

  Alexandra made a point of fully
leaning into Tucker and putting a hand on his chest, which he instantly covered. “I am from Georgia, Mrs. Teague, but my husband has lived in many places, and when his business affairs take him away, I take the opportunity to accompany him. It is profitable for him, and educational for me.”

  “And I,” Tucker broke in, warming to the act and private joke, “have the benefit of having the woman of my heart and my life always with me, as companion, chaperone, and, if nothing else, entertainment.”

  The group laughed, though the Creets seemed to reluctantly do so.

  Tucker looked at Alexandra, and she looked at him, winking fondly.

  Oh, if they were alone, what that wink would have made him do…

  “What is your business in Portland, Carlton?” Creet asked, breaking the moment without any subtlety whatsoever.

  “Exploration, mostly,” Tucker replied, making Alexandra cough a surprised laugh she had to hide against him. “I’ve seen how shipments move in and out of Savannah, and I’d heard that Portland was growing in its influence in the Pacific trade, so I came to see for myself.”

  Teague grunted on the other side of Alexandra. “Fine idea. Shows an open mind and keen sense of opportunity, doesn’t it, Creet?”

  “Certainly does,” Creet murmured without the same complimentary tone. “And you said you’ve seen the docks? You should have asked for me.”

  Tucker shrugged apologetically. “We’ve only recently arrived, Mr. Creet, and I had little information to rely upon. I made a very cursory examination of the docks, but hardly one of real understanding. I did not know you had such influence there, or I certainly would have come to you.”

  Creet nodded once, making a brief, noncommittal sound. “If you have real interest, you may come again on Tuesday. I’ll make some time to show you the real side of things.”

  Now it was Tucker who nodded. “That would be much appreciated, sir, thank you.”

  “Such a kind, generous offer,” Alexandra praised, patting Tucker’s chest. “We are so very grateful, Mr. Creet.”

  “It’s nothing,” Creet replied awkwardly, averting his eyes. “The boy wants to know the business, I don’t mind showing him the way.”

  Boy? Tucker stiffened, his knuckles suddenly itching for the older man’s face. There was no more surefire way to get his ire up than to say something so completely ignorant and asinine, and only Alexandra’s suddenly tight grip on him kept him in place.

  “At the risk of being impertinent,” Alexandra said quickly, one hand fisting into Tucker’s coat out of sight of the others, as if she could physically ground him to her, “might I ask, Mr. Creet, if you’ve had any trouble with smuggling on the docks? I know that my uncle has had his share of woes in such matters down in Savannah, and I would hate to think of anything so disastrous occurring up here in Portland, particularly when the city has such potential for the future.”

  Clever girl. With one question, given in a sympathetic tone, she had turned a patronizing and provocative comment into something she could use. If the man thought himself so superior and exceptional in his affairs, if not the entire shipping world, he wouldn’t be able to resist boasting in one direction or the other on this particular topic.

  Brilliant Chickadee. Her head had been exactly where it should have been, despite the social scene. She was playing the field effortlessly, and manipulating every detail into her benefit in some way.

  When all this was over, he would have to take notes.

  “Smuggling?” Creet repeated, seeming to rise in stature. “We were once overrun with them, and with quite substantial losses. But we discovered their caches, their stores, and are well aware of the tunnels they use in and out of the city. I am pleased to say that it is no longer a problem of significance.”

  Tunnels. Alexandra’s hold on his coat tightened very briefly, and except for her short exhale of relief, nothing was given away of their real feelings.

  And Alexandra was talented enough to write that off.

  “What a relief!” she cried, her hand going to her heart. “I must have you tell Tucker how you managed it so that we might tell Uncle Andrew to do the same!”

  A smug smirk appeared on Creet’s face, and he nodded at the pair of them. “Happily, if your uncle has the ability to apply it to his interests.”

  “Enough talk of business for us all!” Mrs. Teague said at last, waving her hands dismissively. “This is a social occasional, not a meeting of the board! Ladies, if you will follow me, and gentlemen, if you will disperse… I absolutely insist upon us enjoying ourselves.”

  “But what if we wish to dance with our wives?” Teague asked as his wife began to pass him. “What then, Collette?”

  She gave her husband a look, her mouth curving. “Why, then, come and find us, Mr. Teague. You may find us quite amenable.”

  “Would I?” Tucker murmured, allowing himself a real exhale, now that they had the connections they had come for, and details they had sought.

  Alexandra looked up at him, eyes dark, her nose wrinkling up on a restrained smile. “You heard the lady, Mr. Carlton,” she drawled. “Come and find us.”

  “Can you dance, Chickadee?” he asked her, allowing himself a teasing smile.

  “Better than I shoot, Mutt,” she quipped in return. “Take that for what it’s worth.”

  Then the ladies were off, and the men, after hesitating for a moment, dispersed as directed.

  But Tucker, for one, watched his beautiful, charming, captivating, remarkably bright wife make her way about the room, attracting attention and praise, wondering if Archie Gordon wasn’t more of a genius than he ever gave the man credit for.

  And then he gave up the pretense, and quite a few of his walls, by walking through the crowd, not seeing any of them, and claiming his wife for two dances in a row, and another just a few minutes later.

  Chapter 7

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I am really not in the mood to socialize.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Alexandra looked over at her husband as they neared the Dobson’s home, presumably at the request of the incomparable, if unrealistic, Mrs. Dobson, should she truly exist, as some sort of social evening away from the world of investigation. Tucker had taken care to see that none of the individuals they had met with at the Gilded Cage hotel would be invited, so there was no worry on that account.

  But heavens, she was exhausted.

  In the few days since the hotel party, she and Tucker had been working almost constantly, digging into the details of every interview and report with fresh eyes. Tucker had taken up Mr. Creet on his offer to show him the docks, which, apparently, had been far more fascinating than he’d expected. Their nightly excursion to explore some of the tunnels Creet had spoken of had given them an energy, a drive to unearth clues and discover the truth of their assignment.

  They hadn’t done so yet, but Alexandra, for one, expected them to do so at any time. Constantly on the edge of victory, but not yet in possession of it, was a surprisingly draining experience.

  “Yes,” she finally answered, slumping a touch as they walked. “I am serious. I’m exhausted, Tucker. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to talk, I don’t even want to have my eyes open to see anyone or anything for several hours.”

  Tucker stopped, looked Alexandra over with concern, and then pressed his hand against her brow. “Are you feverish, wife? Are you well? You don’t sound like yourself at all. Do we need a doctor?”

  She swatted his hand away, scowling at him. “Stop that, Mutt. Aren’t you tired? It feels like we haven’t slept for days!”

  He chuckled and continued to walk, and she linked her arm with his, keeping by his side. “I actually feel fairly energized myself. This is what I want. Progress, connection, speculation that could actually be truth… I live for this. I think we all do.”

  Alexandra made a face. “Well, I don’t live for more sewer ventures. There’s only so much I can take, and last night was it.”

  �
��You did make quite the picture ankle deep in mess,” he praised, patting her hand on his arm. “That alone would be worth going again.”

  “You have a very skewed sense of the picturesque, Tucker Waite,” she muttered with a reluctant smile. “When we finish all this, kindly report to the good Sergeant, or whoever else important you meet, that the sewer system here is in desperate need of restructuring.”

  Tucker seemed to consider that, looking up at the cloudless evening sky. “Why don’t you tell someone? You have a voice, and you chirp well enough.”

  “Ohhh,” Alexandra said with all the sarcasm she could dredge up. “Because everyone will listen to what your decorated accessory of a wife would have to say on the subject. Excellent idea.”