A Match of Wits by Jen Turano

thirsty, the staff should be able to provide you with whatever you want.”
    “Agatha got her greedy hands on their supply as well, and told them she’d be very disappointed if they purchased additional quantities during the route to New York.”
    “She is thorough when she gets her mind set on something.”
    “She’s irritating. It wasn’t her place to dump out my whiskey.”
    “Whiskey rots your insides.”
    Zayne shrugged. “I use it to numb the pain in my leg.”
    “Understandable, but at least now your insides won’t start giving you trouble.” Mr. Blackheart tilted his head. “I did find it interesting, though, that you didn’t protest too strenuously when Miss Watson insisted you stop drinking. Makes me wonder why you gave in so easily.”
    “ Is there a reason you sought me out?”
    Mr. Blackheart’s lips twitched, but then he coughed behind his hand, and when he lowered his hand, he looked as grouchy as ever. “I’ve been trying to eavesdrop on the ladies.”
    “Brave of you.”
    “Indeed, especially since I keep getting caught. . . . But I am concerned about Miss Watson. I get the distinct impression she’s not going to stay behind closed doors once we reach New York.”
    “And that surprises you?”
    “Given that her life is in danger in the city, yes. I was hoping she’d be reasonable and agree to lay low until I have time to assess the situation.”
    Even though he was incredibly irritated with Agatha, Zayne couldn’t stop the worry that began trickling through him, worry that was distinctly mixed with guilt. “You do realize that I didn’t want her to accompany me back to the city, don’t you?”
    “You were quite vocal with your protests. Although, I have to tell you, the more you protested, the more determined Miss Watson became to see you safely home.” He released a snort. “You turned into a challenge for her, and unfortunately, Miss Watson views a challenge the way most ladies view a delicious tart. Even if she hadn’t blown up your mine, she’d have found a way to get you back to the city.”
    Fresh irritation replaced the guilt. “But she did blow up my mine.”
    “You may not appreciate my reminding you of this fact, but I did warn you that putting her in the direct vicinity of dynamite wasn’t exactly a stellar idea. It shouldn’t surprise you in the least that something of a dastardly nature occurred. Although, I suppose we do owe Miss Watson our thanks for getting us away from Mary alive.”
    “That was completely unintentional.”
    “Everything is with Miss Watson.”
    “Exactly my point,” Zayne said before he folded his hands over his stomach. “Do you know that I stored a whole cache of gold in that mine? It’s gone now, buried under an entire mountain of dirt, and it will take months of hard work to unbury it again—if I can even find it.”
    “That explains why you’ve been a bit sulky of late, but . . . don’t you think it would have been more prudent to store your gold in a bank?”
    “And let everyone know how much I was uncovering? Certainly not.”
    “You’re supposed to be a businessman, Mr. Beckett, but burying your fortune in a mountain is hardly good business, which makes me question your mental capabilities at the moment. I would have thought you’d have invested your profits in the market, earning you additional, and probably substantial, money.”
    “Weren’t we talking about the ladies?”
    “You’re the one who brought up the mine and your loss of what seems to be a fortune.”
    “I still have a fortune, one I earned working in the family business, and then there’s the trust I received from my grandparents.”
    “Then you have absolutely no reason to sulk. Most people never acquire one fortune in a lifetime, let alone several.”
    “Getting back to Agatha,” Zayne said loudly. “Any ideas on how you’re going to keep her safe?”
    “Not a one. She’s unpredictable, fearless, and doesn’t enjoy being told what to