Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to do. If his posture begins to sink, decorum dictates that you complete the dance, but make certain you never accept his hand again. A man who slumps when courting will end up proving to be a lazy husband every time.
    James Kent could dance. How many young women had he held in his arms like this? Why did the number that popped into Ellen’s head bother her?
    With a stumble, Ellen stepped on his toe. He winced. Then she stopped, and James bumped against her.
    He caught her by the upper arm and gave a small squeeze. “You’ll do fine tonight. Just don’t be so nervous and remember to let the man lead.”
    “At least then I can blame any stumbles on him.”
    “That’s the trick.” He offered his arm.
    “Will you dance the first one at the party with me?” A woman really shouldn’t ask, but this was only James. “Then if I make any mistakes, at least it’ll be just you.”
    “Of course.” He pulled a chair out for her. “Now, I do believe we have a game of chess waiting.”
    Ten minutes later James looked across the table, meeting her giggles with a dumbfounded stare.
    She snatched his white king. “Don’t look so woebegone. A man may enjoy the lead on the dance floor, but around the game table, a woman’s mind wins out.”
    “Even though I know you’ve always been clever with puzzles, it’s hard to believe you could slaughter me in two moves.” He rubbed his temples as he examined the board.
    “Did I make your head ache?”
    “Oh. Don’t mind me. I’m trying to figure out how you cheated.”
    Ellen banged her fist on the table with such force the chess pieces toppled over. “I didn’t cheat! That move is called a fool’s mate.”
    “Which would make me the fool?”
    “You said the words.”
    He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I think I may have to study more before I demand a rematch.”
    “Chess is a simple game, really. I like it because it follows a formula and rules. With each move you can examine the board and know with certainty what your opponent’s next move will be.”
    “Funny. I’ve always considered chess a game of chance.” James tapped the chessboard. “You’re something else, Ellen Ingram. Your mind works four times faster with information than any man of my acquaintance. I’d put money on you in a chess match against anyone.”
    “Do you know they are holding the first world chess competition in Europe this summer?” Ellen leaned her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand.
    “And if they allowed women, I’m sure you’d be the champion.” He rose, stretching to his full height. “Well, half-pint, it’s been amusing but I have some errands before this bash at Cobb’s tonight. I assume I’m to escort you?”
    “Aunt Louisa says you must, since I know no one in Chicago, and Lewis is away. You are the closest person I have to family in town. Unless, of course, there is another lady you wish to escort.” She followed him out of the room and into the hallway.
    He plucked his beaver-skinned top hat off the of the hat tree and reached for the door. “I’ll call for you at a quarter to nine.” He tapped the end of her nose. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
    “I’ll always keep you waiting.” She laughed and swatted his hand away.
    James sighed. “I know that all too well.”

CHAPTER THREE
    Chicago, April 27, 1886
     
    Perched on the second-story window, James gripped the crumbling sill. At least the anarchists held their meeting facing the alley. What might the drunks teetering down the road at this end of town bellow if they saw him squatting on the eight-inch ledge, with his ear pressed to the half-inch opening? At least if he tumbled, the rats and rubbish below might break his fall. The smell of waste, overrun from the outhouses after the earlier storm, made him gag.
    Wind whipped down the street, sending bulletins and newspapers tumbling into the alley. He pressed closer to the building. It would serve him right if he fell and cracked his head