Clara rolled her eyes before making a successful grab for the book. He held tight, but the front cover tore off, leaving him with a sheet of paper and Clara with pages of unwholesome subversion. He glanced down at the sheet, and his frowned deepened.
The Lady’s Terrible Secretby Lydia R. Pelton.
Surely not.
“Abraham! That book cost me fifteen cents!”
He ignored Clara and continued to stare at the name printed along the bottom. It could not be the same Lydia Pelton he’d arrested tonight. Dr. Pelton was too respectable to allow his daughter to write such scintillating stories.
Except she did attempt to steal a goat from the circus.
And her flirtation? Was that a truer depiction of her character? He was tempted to grab the dime novel back and read exactly how detailed that kiss scene had been. And was it just kissing she’d included, or had she gone further? Danger to a woman’s virtue inevitably came up in these stories, but Abraham had too much experience with his job to find entertainment in such depravity. And that was just one reason these books should be banned, especially from young, undiscerning readers.
“Give it back. She’s my favorite author.”
He released the cover but scowled at Clara. “You didn’t answer me—do Mother and Father know you read this?”
“I don’t hide it from them. Mother even likes Miss Pelton’s books. She says as far as romance novels go, they’re pretty tame.”
As far as romance novels went? Did his own mother read this fire kindling? How else would she know how Miss Pelton’s stories compared? “Hand over the book, Clara. I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to continue reading it.”
Clara backed up to her bed and sat on the thick leaflet. “No. If Mother gives me permission, you can’t take it away. Once I finish, I’ll gladly give you the opportunity to read it. Or if you are so impatient to know whether Miss Pelton’s writing can be trusted, grab any copy of her works from that stack on my desk.”
He glanced at the stack of dime novels she indicated. There must have been a dozen. “You’ve read all of those?”
“Multiple times.” She arched a brow in defiance. “You cannot judge my reading choices without first having read them yourself. In fact, I dare you to. I bet when you’re finished, you’ll love her as much as I do.”
Abraham considered shoving Clara over and stealing her current read, but with fifteen pages left, she’d probably fight him to the death. At least if he accepted her challenge, he could remove the rest of the perversion from the room and protect her.
“Fine, but I’m taking them now.”
“As long as whatever you take, you read, and you finish them by the end of the month. After that, I’m calling your bluff and confiscating them back.”
He snatched the stack and stalked to the door. “Go to bed, Pages. Your hero will survive until you next open the book.”
She didn’t turn off the light immediately, but by the time he’d changed into his nightclothes and checked the hallway again, the light was out. She’d probably just shoved a blanket against the base of the door to disguise the light. He grunted and climbed into bed. Clara was old enough to contend with her own consequences, and he needed to get what little sleep he could muster. It might be his day off, but he intended to attend the last circus show and catch his fugitive aerialist.
Well before it was time, someone knocked on his door.
“Wake up, Abe. Lucian’s here and says they want you at Central.” Jake’s nine-year-old voice hollered through the door.
Grit bleared Abraham’s vision as he checked the clock on his side table. Barely eight in the morning. He groaned. Word about last night’s arrests must’ve already reached Superintendent Carson’s ear. It’d been foolish to think the consequences would wait until tomorrow’s shift to make themselves known.
“I’m up. Coffee, please?”
“Will do!” Jake’s feet raced down the hall.
It was far too early for that much energy. Abraham crawled from bed and dressed in his last clean uniform. At least catching Clara last night meant she’d wash his clothes for the upcoming week in exchange for his silence.
She met him downstairs with a mug in hand. “Are you going to tell Mother and Father about my staying up last night?”
“Not if you agree to the usual payment.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pile still in the corner of your room?”
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “I assume you woke up on time?”
“Yes, I did, and they lived happily ever after.”
