A Lady Never Trifles with Thieves Read Online Free PDF Page B

than get in my way.
    There ought to be a law.
    Percy stepped out the door just as I rounded the corner. He fumbled with the key, his head bent, muttering at the lock as though inanimate objects must be cajoled to ensure cooperation. Papa had been a great one to speechify everything from wagon jacks to Rochester lamps, but his comments were colored the most exquisite shade of blue my ears had yet absorbed.
    “Percy, thank goodness you’re still here.”
    He whirled. Papers flew from his arms like snowbirds taking wing. Bowler askew, his spectacles hanging from one ear, he bellowed, “Now look what you’ve done.”
    “Me?” I knelt to scoop up the foolscap littering the boardwalk. “Ye gods, you’re jumpier than froglegs in hot fat.”
    He righted his hat and eyeglasses, then squatted down beside me. “Please spare me the backwoods colloquialisms. I’ve heard quite enough of them for one day.”
    “I apologize, Percy. I truly didn’t intend to startle you so fierce.”
    He stood. “Whatever your intentions, it’s been an extremely trying day, and as you can see, I have reams of work ahead of me this evening.”
    “Then I won’t bother you another second. I’ll call on Mr. Shulteis tomorrow morning.”
    “He will be in court tomorrow and very probably the next.”
    The image of Penelope LeBruton, the wounded angel imprisoned in a gossamer cage, shimmered behind my eyes. It wasn’t a matter of if her husband would make good his threat, but when. “One question is all I need ask, Percy. Surely he can find time for that.”
    He shrugged and started away. “The trial is in Leadville, Miss Sawyer. He left the city on the noon stage.”
    I assume my expression fell to the depths of woebe-gone, for Percy shifted his weight as though recalling his mother’s instructions on gentlemanly behavior. In a tone as solemn as an undertaker’s, he said, “Might I in some way be of assistance.”
    Eager as he was to please his employer, Percy was book smart, but he lacked the aptitude for creative thinking. His type, I believed, was better suited for the accounting profession or government work.
    In any event, I wasn’t comfortable divulging the complications of the LeBruton case. Trustworthy or not, Percy hadn’t read law long enough to familiarize himself with its intricacies, which afforded no help to me at all.
    He could forward a letter to Fulton, but it would probably reach Leadville an hour after the attorney quit that city. What a telegram gained in speed, it sacrificed in discretion. Avoiding specifics would render my message unintelligible. “Now that I think about it,” I said, “maybe you can be of assistance.”
    It was obviously not the hoped-for response, but I continued, “That is, if you’d loan me a book on territorial law pertaining to bills of divorcement.” I tilted my head. “Unless you’d rather assist me in my research, it being on behalf of one of Fulton’s clients and all.” A dreamy sigh escaped my lips. “What a delightful evening that would be. Just the two of us. Alone. Together.”
    Blushing to the roots of his sandy hair, Percy could not fit the key in the office’s door lock fast enough. He reexited a moment later with three leather-bound, gilt-embossed volumes, which he foisted into my waiting arms.
    The books were as heavy as flagstones and pinched my corset’s whalebone stays. Five long, sweltering blocks separated me from my Champa Street office—a fact of which Percy was undoubtedly aware and would celebrate with a cup of milky tea, his pinky finger raised in salute.
    I simpered, “I can always count on you, Percy. Why, if I wasn’t a lady, I swear, I’d kiss you smack on the lips.”
    He ducked behind a wall of papers. “Egads, woman. Restrain yourself!”
    Two teamsters dodged around him, chuckling. One said, “Whoo-ee. If’n that pretty gal took a shine to me, danged if I’d fight her off.”
    Percy looked at them, then me, with equal disdain. “Well, I