There were times when Betty wished that she wasn’t the oldest. That she could be more carefree when it came to breaking rules.
Her stomach hiccupped with excitement, and she knew why. Whether she was breaking a rule or not, the idea of seeing Henry again was exciting.
Following Jane down the steps of the tavern, Betty ran her hands over the skirt of the cream-colored sleeveless dress she’d chosen to wear, making sure that no wrinkles had formed during the streetcar ride. The dress had an overlay of light pink lace and long silky fringes of the same color along the hem. She’d also chosen to wear a black hat and black shoes and a set of black pearls.
A moment later, her heart skipped a beat when her gaze settled on a table behind the piano player. Henry was there, saw her, and gave a slight nod in recognition. She bit her lip, knowing she shouldn’t be so happy to see him, yet truly couldn’t help it. Everything about him was thrilling, from his looks, to him being an intelligence agent, searching for a criminal, to asking her to help him.
It shouldn’t be. She should be frightened to death, knowing he knew about her and her sisters, but she wasn’t, and that was as odd for her as breaking rules. It was almost as if there was something about him that made her want to break rules. Made her want to be someone she’d never been before. Even while sneaking out, she hadn’t been as boisterous and outgoing as her sisters. She had danced and had fun, but she’d also spent a lot of time watching, mainly her sisters, making sure they weren’t breaking rules that would get them in trouble. Like dancing with the same man too often, or sneaking outside with one, or drinking too many glasses of wine.
At least that was one rule she hadn’t broken.
“Hello,” Henry said, holding out a chair for her as she arrived at the table.
“Hello,” she replied, breathing through how fast her heart thudded.
He sat down and slid a glass in front of her. “I ordered you a glass of wine.”
A lump the size of an orange formed in her throat. She couldn’t even say thank-you.
He picked up a glass in front of him and held it out to her.
She picked up hers and flinched slightly as their glasses clinked, because she’d probably break yet another rule tonight.
She did.
She’d barely been there five minutes when she was already on her second glass of wine. He asked her where her third sister was, and when she said Patsy hadn’t joined them tonight, he said he’d seen all three of them leave the house.
She finished her glass of wine, and watched as he refilled the glass before she had the nerve to ask how he’d watched them.
“From the abandoned house,” he said.
She’d tried not to look at that house as they’d crossed the lawn tonight, but had, and had been thinking about how that tunnel they’d been in last night went all the way to that house. She took a sip of her third glass of wine, before saying, “Patsy is with a friend of hers. I gave her permission.”
He lifted a brow. “You gave her permission?”
“Yes, I’m the oldest, so I’m responsible for them.” When it came to her sisters, she was not only responsible, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe. That gave her the courage to lift her chin. Meet his gaze. “Which is why I am here, Mr. Randall. To hear how I can help you, so that you don’t tell my father about them sneaking out.”
“What about you?” he asked. “You are sneaking out, too.”
“I can face the consequences—they can’t.” Her time of sneaking out was almost over. She only had a few months before marrying James. That was not something she liked to think about, nor did she like to think about what that would mean for her sisters.
He twirled his glass around on the table, as he looked at her and nodded. “Henry,” he then said.
“Henry?” She knew his name.
“Yes. You called me Mr. Randall. I’d prefer you call me Henry.”
“Oh, all right, Henry.” She’d merely called him Mr. Randall in order to remind herself of the reason she was here. To help him in order for her sisters to continue experiencing a small amount of freedom. “Have you determined how I can help you?”
“I have.” He glanced toward the bar. “I believe the person I’m looking for has started a bootlegging business and I need to be cautious as to who I question, in case someone recognizes me. I’m curious to know about the whiskey the Rooster’s Nest serves.” He lifted up his glass. “It appears to be a premium one.”
A bit of relief filled her. “It is. It’s Minnesota Thirteen. That’s part of the reason this place has so many dockworkers as customers. They know where the good stuff is delivered to.” She’d learned plenty during her first few weeks of sneaking out. “Murray gets deliveries every Sunday and Wednesday afternoon.” She tilted her head slightly, toward the bar. “Murray also arranges deliveries for parties and special occasions.”
“How do you know all that?”
She shrugged. “Listening. There was a man in here the other night, saying his whiskey was as good as Minnesota Thirteen, but Murray told him no, that he wasn’t interested.”
“You heard that?”
“Yes.” She bit her tongue from adding that the man hadn’t been happy or that her sister Patsy had danced with the man. She would help him, but she would protect her sisters at the same time.
Chapter Four
Could he be wrong about her? Henry wasn’t quite ready to believe that. Nor was he
