Free Masked by Moonlight by Allie Pleiter Page A

wicked-looking scissors and a bottle of something Matthew was sure would result in considerable pain. “Now, Covington, let’s see to that arm.”
     
    His arm had been stinging for hours. That was his excuse. Surely the pain had driven him to such foolishness.
    The pain and the harrowing tales he had heard that afternoon.
    After Bauers had left, Matthew’s arm stung so badly he decided further ciphers would be out of the question. He shifted his attention to the shipping interests of Covington Enterprises. A couple of inquiries had led him to a contact, a clerk within the offices who dealt repeatedly with dockworkers and marine merchants.
    Matthew didn’t like what he found.
    An hour or two with the clerk not only confirmed Reverend Bauers’s dire assessments, it exceeded them. Commerce on the docks, if one could even stretch to call it such, was nothing short of piracy. London’s worst corners held more justice than San Francisco’s docks. So far Covington Enterprises appeared innocent of such behavior, but given such a culture, Matthew couldn’t be certain. It was standard practice to promise immigrant workers one wage and then pay another after a long day’s labor. One company’s shipments moved swiftly through the docks while another’s rotted in plain sight.
    Matthew had heard enough to sour his stomach.
    And that’s why he’d done it.
    Well, that and the fact that he couldn’t sleep. A man’s mind plays tricks with his good sense at three in the morning. He hadn’t set out to head South of the Slot at that hour—no man in his right mind would consider such a thing. He hadn’t set out to do anything. It just overtook him, like a wave sweeping out to sea.
    And somehow, with no forethought, as if someone else had moved within his own body and the way had been cleared for him, the deed was done.
    He came back near dawn, exhausted, and astonished at his own actions. Thompson asked where he had been, but he didn’t answer. Thompson stared at his exposed wound and asked if he wanted a new bandage, but Matthew still said nothing.
    Mostly because he had absolutely no idea what to say.

Chapter Thirteen
    “Q uinn? How on earth did you find your way here?”
    “You have to come, now. Reverend says so.” The boy looked pressed for time, but not upset. What could bring him here this early in the morning?
    “Is everything all right? Is the reverend ill?”
    “No, ma’am. He’s jumping around like it’s Christmas.” Quinn stared past her to the breakfast table visible through the dining room doors. “He sent me to get you right away. You have to come now, Miss Georgia.” The boy looked past her skirts again, licking his lips. “I think he’ll explode if you don’t.”
    Georgia watched the lad’s sense of urgency war with the scent of bacon wafting out from behind her. “Quinn, has no one offered you a bit of breakfast for your efforts?” she inquired, trying hard to keep the laughter from her voice.
    “No, ma’am!” His eyes widened in hungry hope.
    “Well, I’m all for rushing to Reverend Bauers’s aid, but I have a few things to attend to that will only take a moment. Why don’t you busy yourself with a plate in the kitchen while you wait. I won’t be but a…”
    Before she had even finished, Quinn was bounding down the hallway.
     
    A small crowd circled Grace House, when Georgia and Quinn arrived in her coach. Several families stood in the courtyard with Reverend Bauers, chattering excitedly. Some great news had obviously reached the mission. If he already knew, Quinn’s mouth was sealed; he claimed he’d been told to be silent.
    It took a few moments to find it. After all, one would have expected something far larger, given the commotion. Eventually, after a question or two, she was directed to something small on the Grace House doorpost.
    At which point Georgia nearly stumbled.
    Money.
    A good deal of money, from the looks of it.
    Nailed to the doorpost with a white ribbon.
    The