An Agent for Dixie: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #57

By Linda Carroll-Bradd

Foreign diplomacy is the Zivon family business but Alexei resists the polite constraints, not lasting a year in law school. The four successful years working as a Pinkerton agent prove he was meant to follow a different path. Now, he's faced with the biggest challenge of his career—training a female agent who has no practical skills. Alexei figures he can convince her to just observe as he solves the case, because nothing will interfere with his success rate.

 

Since childhood, Dixie LaFontaine lived in her older sister's shadow but applying to become a Pinkerton Agent is her first major decision. Being matched with confident Alexei is intimidating, especially when the assigned case involves them pretending to be brother and sister at a health spa where jewelry has gone missing. Dixie has no qualms about pretending to be a French heiress needing care for her arthritis. Soon, she falls victim to Alexei's charm and realizes that hiding her feelings might be as hard as ferreting out the thief among the spa's clientele.

 

Will Dixie focus on learning the skills of an agent, or will she concentrate on turning her marriage of convenience into a lasting love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barr26 Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223115250

Book preview

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May 1872

Denver, Colorado Territory

The day she dreaded for the last six weeks finally arrived. Dixie LaFontaine lifted a dress sleeve of rose-colored cotton and slid the silver needle into the lace edging, taking tiny, even stitches. Only after her older sister made the decision and submitted an application on Dixie’s behalf did Liana inform her. In less than an hour, she would have to endure an interview for a job she was not qualified for. Worse, she was too cowed by her demanding sister to relate her misgivings about becoming a lady Pinkerton detective. Bonté moi. Such a dangerous profession.

I so wish to make my impression the best ever. How is this angle, Dixie? Liana turned away from the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

Why is she so obsessed with her looks? From the armchair positioned across the room, Dixie frowned and lowered the item she sewed. She glanced at her older sister as Liana adjusted the angle of a navy velvet hat, dipped her chin, and smiled. Always the coquette. I do not know, Liana. What about your outfit did you change? Her sister had tried on three dresses already. As always, Liana looked lovely in the matching dress with deep swags at the hips that drew up to meet under the small bustle.

Dixie might share the same shade of brunette hair with her sister, but the physical similarities ended there. Liana had a heart-shaped face and a beautiful smile, while Dixie’s chin was too small and her upper teeth were too big. All during her growing-up years, she’d been subjected to comments about her bad teeth being a detriment to her looks. Comments from relatives, except Maman and Papa, made her feel like she had to hide them. When she first read The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen as a child, she yearned for the point in her life when she became the swan. She still waited.

Liana sighed before turning again toward the mirror, her silver ball earrings bobbing. Is the plume too much? She reached for the hat’s wide satin ribbons and crossed them under her chin then tilted her head from one side to the other. "I do not want Monsieur Gordon to think I am not taking this opportunity seriously. Est-ce que tu comprends?"

I understand, but, Liana, speak only English. Her sister had a tendency to revert to their native language when upset. Maybe because she hated to draw attention to herself, Dixie didn’t. She set the garment on a side table and walked past the bed’s footboard to a shelf. She gazed at the supply of hats resting on stands. As sisters, they often shared accessories. Dixie shied away from Liana’s flashier styles for her dresses. Of the hats you own, this black one with the single silk rose and the crimped ribbon flowing off the back is the most business-like. After lifting it, she moved to stand next to her sister and extended the accessory.

To Dixie’s way of thinking, a job interview represented serious business and was not the place to worry about fashion. She was glad to have talked Liana out of wearing one of her usual outfits with bright colors and vivid patterns. With this interview, logic dictated she would not need to make the same impression as in a social setting where she might meet her future husband. In her desire to always fade into the background, Dixie preferred solids in neutral shades, choosing accent pieces like jewelry or scarves to add color. A glance at the outfit she wore verified the dark taupe gown with the beige ruffle at the hem looked proper and professional. If she wanted to be taken seriously for the job of a lady Pinkerton detective, looking business-like should count for something.

I cannot help if I lapse into my native language when I am nervous. Liana switched hats and stared at her reflection, repeating her previous motions. You are right, Dixie. Of course, this design is more fitting. She collected a long hat pin from the vanity table and inserted it. Which one will you wear?

Nibbling her lower lip, Dixie again inched down the line of choices. I do not know. How much does my choice really matter? Mister Gordon will be evaluating the skills she might bring to the job and not her clothes. Especially since she had seen how the female agents left Denver with a small selection of clothing that could be used in various situations. At the end of the shelf, she stopped and rested a hand on the top. Although she had broached this topic before, she was not successful in making Liana understand. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try one more time. I doubt I have the right skills to become a Pinkerton agent. Working in such an active, and potentially dangerous, job was Liana’s preference, not hers. She would be just as happy remaining in the role she performed for the past year—sewing the wardrobes for the Pinkerton agents while stationed here in Denver.

If only she had saved enough money to return to her family in France. Six years ago, Papa’s import-export business suffered losses, and she and Liana were sent to Boston to live with his sister. Tante Cosette was delighted to finish training them in the finer graces and manners that all young ladies needed. Dixie loved living with her tante, attending poetry readings and concerts, and touring a city where lots of historical events were memorialized.

Gasping, a wide-eyed Liana rushed across the room and grabbed Dixie’s hand. Oh, do not say that.

As expected, Liana would not listen—like she had not since first coming up with the idea to apply. The only reason they were even in Denver to become seamstresses was because they’d run out of money on their trip to Los Angeles. Liana decided they’d learned everything they could from their tante and needed to expand their horizons. Working as a seamstress suited Dixie just fine. She had been so surprised when their written applications, submitted to the manager of the Denver Pinkerton National Detective Agency office, were accepted. Wishing she could be forthright about her feelings, Dixie could not hold her sister’s direct gaze.

"You most certainly have skills. You are smart and talented, and you have a quiet nature that draws in people and makes them want to talk, like Maman has."

A tug on her hand dropped Dixie to the mattress next to Liana. As much as she loved her sister, she never willingly put herself too close to Liana’s side, knowing the inevitable comparisons included Liana’s more symmetrical features and genuine smile. So aware of her overbite, Dixie adopted what Maman called a demure smile that hid her too-prominent front teeth. The intensity in Liana’s voice drew her back to the present conversation.

Remember the insurance fraud in San Francisco, or the cattle rustlers in the Rocky Mountains, or the case involving an agent’s missing sister? What about the apprehension of jewel thieves in San Antonio? Remember how we thought those cases sounded so exciting?

Dixie suppressed a sigh at yet another time her wishes where not noticed. I was not the one who mentioned excitement. You were. Not wanting to be swayed by Liana’s enthusiasm, she pulled free her hand and wrapped her arms around her middle. I am more bothered by how those women from all over America answered a newspaper ad and ended up married to complete strangers before having an adventure of any type. She scooted away from Liana’s navy velvet dress with the light-blue pleated underskirt. The color aided her skin in looking rosy, which made Dixie’s pale complexion look even waner. What if I just stayed here and maintained my job as the agency seamstress? Because she knew what the response would be, she faked a listening expression of an angled head and arched eyebrow.

Dixie, we have been through all this before. You already said you did not want to live alone. Once I leave, you will be in that very situation. She walked to the shelf, chose a hat accented with matching cinnamon bow and ribbons, and approached. Besides, we just about promised the seamstress job to Miss Thornton after she interviewed.

Why did I ever agree to that decision? Frowning, Dixie clamped a hand on top of the chocolate-brown felt hat. Then she rose and stood in front of the mirror. They were headed to an important business meeting, so no flirtatious angle would do. She set the hat straight atop her head and jabbed the hat pin into her coiled hairstyle. I always do better when we are together, because you take the lead in conversations so well. What if she entered the office and became tongue-tied? She spun, pulse racing at her sudden indecision over how to survive the upcoming ordeal. They must go through the process as a unit. They applied for the seamstress job as a team, so why not for the agent job? At her sister’s side, Dixie always felt stronger. Do you think Mister Gordon will let us interview together?

Probably not. Liana walked to the armoire and opened the right-side door. Jacket or shawl?

That was it? No discussion about the possibility. Dixie moved toward the second-story window and viewed the bright-blue sky over brown rooftops of nearby businesses. In a few places, smoke rose from chimneys but didn’t linger due to the city’s frequent breezes. The sky looks clear. The beige shawl, please. Remaining at the window, she extended her arm backwards. When she felt the garment in her hand, she turned.

Liana slung a black lacy shawl over her shoulders. If asked who wants to go first, I will volunteer. You can settle your thoughts and review the details you wrote on the application. Ready?

Hardly. Again, she couldn’t speak her mind. After draping the shawl over her shoulders, Dixie breathed out a long sigh. But I will not disappear before completing the interview. Surely, Mister Gordon would speak with her for only a few minutes before he determined, and rightly so, she belonged at a sewing machine, rather than carrying out subterfuge or hijinks as Liana anticipated.

Her biggest problem surfaced and overrode her other concerns. In the six years since leaving France after the collapse of their father’s business, Liana had always guided their decisions. She’d been the one to determine when the time was right to leave Tante Cosette’s home and venture out on their own. Dixie was not sure she was ready to do so for herself. With a sigh, she started down the stairs to the first floor that was their apparel shop.

On the boardwalk outside the seamstress shop, Liana breathed deep of the crisp mountain air and glanced around. At this elevation, the sun didn’t warm the air until early afternoon. She pulled a pair of black lace gloves from her reticule and eased them onto her hands before snapping open a silk parasol.

Dixie locked the shop door, stepped close, and