Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) by Kathleen Y'Barbo

seat and looked past her, presumably to the scenery passing outside the window.
    “Nor do you seem to be forthcoming, Mr. Tucker. Perhaps those of us who are in a line of work that requires secrets to be kept have a few of our own as well.”
    “Perhaps so.” He gave her a direct look. “If this career hadn’t chosen you, what would you be doing?”
    “That depends. What would I wish to do or what would I actually be doing?”
    “Don’t make me choose. Answer both questions.”
    “Only if you will.”
    “Agreed.”
    Sadie considered her answer a moment and then smiled. “All right. If I had not become a Pinkerton agent, I would probably be auditioning husbands or, more likely, decorating some grand home and planning a nursery. Apparently, that is what my parents believe I was put on earth for.”
    “And if you were able to do what you wished?”
    “Probably the same, although on my own timetable and not married to a man chosen for me.”
    “Chosen for you because your parents care for your future?”
    “They do,” Sadie said with another smile. “Alas, I am cursed with a mother and father who love me.”
    He met her gaze. “What would you do first, if given your own timetable?”
    “Paint.” The word slipped from her mouth unbidden. She’d never told that secret to anyone. Even at the Institute, she had settled for a course of study in art history instead of the more hands-on arts. “I’m awful at it,” she hurried to say. “My skills run more toward the history of art rather than the creation of it.”
    “Perhaps with more practice?”
    She laughed. “I would only be poor at it rather than awful. No, I’ll keep to the study of ancient Egyptian and Iraqi artifacts and oils by the Old Masters.”
    “Egyptian and Iraqi artifacts?” He gave her a sideways look. “Seriously?”
    Shrugging, she brushed off his question. “Any course of study in arthistory begins with the Egyptians and their cuneiform tablets, hieroglyphic papyri, and such. And one can hardly make a complete study of the era without including the Iraqis.”
    “Yes, of course,” he said thoughtfully.
    “And you?” she asked, happy to direct the questions back to him and away from herself. “What would you do if not for the career you left back in England?”
    He thought only a moment, or so it seemed. “I would probably become a gentleman farmer. Hopelessly boring, I know, but it gives a man a feeling of accomplishment to know he is tilling soil handed down to him through the generations and in the process leaving something for future offspring.”
    “That is noble indeed and not the least bit boring. My father is much like you’ve described, only his legacy consists of sugarcane fields and the processing mill he and my brothers keep innovating.”
    Further questions would have to wait as the brakes squealed and the conductor passed through the car.
    By habit, Sadie searched the faces of those gathered on the platform outside. Though she half expected to see her brothers waiting, she did not expect to find Kyle Russell there.
    Before she could gather her things and exit the train, Kyle had climbed aboard. When he noticed Sadie’s companion, he stopped short, eyes narrowed.
    “Agent Russell,” Sadie said as she urged him forward. “I would like to introduce you to William Jefferson Tucker.” She turned to Mr. Tucker. “Jefferson Tucker, please meet Kyle Russell, formerly of the Pinkerton Agency.”
    “And your escort to Mobile,” Kyle said as he moved close enough to shake the man’s hand.
    “Oh? I thought you retired.”
    “I did, but Henry can be persuasive.” He looked past her again to the Tucker twin.
    “I’m pleased to meet you, Agent Russell,” he said to Kyle. “Unless I am mistaken, your name appears on my brother’s arrest warrant as a witness against him.”
    Kyle barely blinked. “You are correct.”
    Jefferson held his gaze for a moment and then offered a curt nod. “I hope you understand that