The Cautious Maiden

by Dawn Crandall

  I had an aunt in Massachusetts, but I didn’t know where. Going back to Ezra was my only other option. Was that why he’d done this? Did he not like the fact that I worked at Everston instead of staying to help him with what he’d made of my parent’s beautiful home?

  I hadn’t stayed around long once it was clear that Ezra’s plan was to make it into a brothel; only long enough to see a few of the first overtly confident girls show up and take residence. Later, after I’d started working at Everston, I’d heard that more had arrived—and that they weren’t always willing.

  It made me ill to think of what kinds of things were happening in the only home I had ever known. And that there was nothing I could do about it.

  The most pitiful sound I remembered ever making escaped from my chest. Would I eventually become just as helpless as those women?

  I’d certainly never be invited to dinner with Dexter and Estella again. Not that dinner was the most important thing to think about just then, but it had been something I valued.

  Dexter and Estella had taken up the habit of inviting me to dine with them when Estella’s brother was around, but I didn’t know why. I knew it had nothing truly to do with Vance Everstone’s presence. They likely wanted to keep the numbers right, and that was all.

  To dinner on the sixth floor of Everston was actually where I’d been headed when I’d heard Ezra’s voice from the bushes. I’d put on my best dress—which was the one I always wore to dinner with them—and done my hair into the most elaborate of coifs, lacing my yellow ribbon through the elaborate coils. I felt around the edge of my collar and scanned the sidewalk.

  Even my ribbon was gone.

  I felt the tears striving to return where I’d sufficiently stuffed them since seeing Ezra walk away. I closed my eyes. I’d been fooling myself for the last few months. I didn’t know why they’d been including me until then, but they wouldn’t anymore.

  “Miss Hawthorne?”

  My eyes startled open, and I jumped to my feet at the sound. I quickly wiped my fingers across my lashes, trying to contain my shock at having to face anybody in such a state.

  Vance Everstone. Even through blurry, tear-filled eyes and at a distance of about ten feet, he looked too good. His black eyes and brows were perfectly situated; his mouth, nose, and jaw so amazingly sculpted and proportioned. Ever since the moment I’d first seen him at the end of October, I couldn’t help but think of him much too often…as ridiculous as it was to entertain such thoughts. I couldn’t help it, but every time I saw him, he unwittingly captured my attention. And it was beyond annoying that he did so, because he seemed to want nothing to do with me.

  And why would he?

  Vance Everstone was primed and ready to take over his successful father’s empire of a few dozen hotels and a lumber company which covered almost half of Maine. I was just some girl with the misfortune of having a gambler and drunkard as a brother.

  Vance knew my background. It was probably the reason he never spoke to me beyond politely contributing to dinner conversation that floated around the table. Which, I supposed, was for his sister’s sake.

  “Miss Hawthorne…Violet, are you all right?” Vance came up the walk Ezra had just vacated.

  Hearing my given name upon his lips shocked me into silence, even if I’d wanted to answer him. I gripped the collar of my coat to my neck, hoping to hide my shorn hair and my tear-stained cheeks.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I answered, revealing only my eyes from behind my lifted coat collar.

  “All right then…were you crying a few moments ago?” He’d come closer and now stood only a few feet away. That was when I realized he held my bonnet in his hand and probably wondered why it had been on the ground so far away from where I’d been sitting—if the fact that I’d been sitting on the snowy steps outside Everston’s warm, dry lobby wasn’t something to question already.

  Without giving a verbal answer, I lowered the corners of my collar from my face.

  He stood stark still, staring at me as if I’d grown another head. “What happened? Who did this?”

  It was an odd way for him to ask; as if he already knew I’d had no say in the matter—but perhaps my tears had been clue enough on that count.

  “My brother…but I’m not sure why.” I swallowed hard and felt my blood turn hot with embarrassment. For what else could I say if he asked for more details?

  He took a moment to gather his next question. “Did he hurt you?”

  I shook my head, my loose hair tickling my jaw as it swept by my face. “But this”—I grabbed the ends of my hair—“this is humiliating.”

  “Now, I wouldn’t say that. It isn’t conventional, but it’ll grow back.”

  “But my hair….”

  “You still look as pretty as ever.”

  My eyes shot to his, my disbelief overshadowing his shocking words. They couldn’t be true; not from someone like Vance Everstone. But why would he say such a thing, especially considering he’d hardly ever said a word to me when he’d had ample chance?

  “You’re to dine with Dex and Stella upstairs with me tonight, are you not?”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to go looking like this.”

  Vance paused, chewed his bottom lip and stared up at Everston, as if looking straight through it. And then to my surprise, he quickly took my hand and steered me back to the veranda. Leading me up the stairs and down the length of it until we came to the doors to the reading room, he guided me inside. Removing my coat, he led me to one of the chairs in the corner and made me sit. Then he pulled another chair from a few feet away and set it right in front of mine, handing me my bonnet. Without a word, he sat studying me with his amazing black eyes, in a way that could only be described as intimately.

  Was this what it felt like to be the aim of a scheming flirt? I’d thought I’d be able to withstand such blatant tactics, but now I wasn’t so sure. Vance was far too good-looking for his own good; so much so that just the thought of him thinking anything at all of me sent my heart racing.

  Could he tell?

  “Do you happen to have any hairpins left?” Vance’s words broke through my thoughts.

  “Why, no, but there might be some on the ground outside—” I moved to stand, but Vance stopped me with a gentle hand at the cuff of my coat sleeve.

  “I’ll go look. You stay right here, don’t go anywhere.”

  “I was about halfway to where the path bends around the hotel when…it happened,” I whispered.

  With a sympathetic glance, Vance stood and left the room by the way we’d come in.

  While he was gone, I imagined him searching the ground for a few minutes, every so often collecting a pin here and there. This little service, and the fact that he cared to stop on his way up to Dexter and Estella’s to help me, did dangerous things to my already overly active imagination.

  I didn’t know why I’d felt some strange connection to Vance upon our first meeting—as if he’d in some way recognized something about me upon hearing my name. And no matter how I tried to convince myself that no good could come from my associating with the black sheep of the Everstone family, he kept surprising me. Yes, he would probably be labeled a flirt for the duration of his entire life. But could a man really help it if, at the sight of him, women practically wanted to kiss his feet?

  Yet, he wasn’t good or heroic. No true gentleman would amass the rumors that Vance had, unless he was guilty of at least a few of the accusations. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

  Upon returning, Vance took a seat again and held most of the pins out for me to take.

  I did so, but answered, “I don’t understand. My hair is too short—”

  “I think we can figure something out. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on having dinner with us on account of feeling unpresentable.” He studied my hair once again.

  I forced myself to breathe and averted my eyes as he focused on me so completely. How was it that he could make me feel
so reassured, and yet on edge at the same time?

  And then, without warning Vance took a lock of my hair, deftly twirled it about his fingers and pinned it above my ear, causing me to sit up straight, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?”

  “Making you look presentable. Not that this daring new style doesn’t look darling on you. I had the impression you weren’t happy—”

  “I’m not happy; my own brother would—”

  “Yes, about that,” Vance uttered, tight-lipped. He now held a few of the pins between his teeth, readying them to be of use. He didn’t go on, but simply continued to silently pin the strands of my hair into place. I tried my best to ignore how wonderful it felt. Never had I wanted any man to touch even my hand, and yet there Vance Everstone was, practically running his fingers through my hair.

  I closed my eyes. It was far too enjoyable, feeling his hands caress my scalp as he seemed to know just where to place the pins.

  “Was anyone else with him?” He must have used up the pins held in his lips, for he reached into my open hand for more, brushing my palm with his fingertips. “As you likely know better than anyone else, Ezra never does much on his own. There’s always someone leading him farther astray than is good for him.”

  “Do you know Ezra?” I asked; my eyes still closed, almost as shocked by his words as I was by how comfortable it felt to have him pin my hair. I really didn’t want him to stop; it felt so calming.

  “We’ve been acquainted. And you didn’t answer my question. Was anyone with him?”

  “He had a friend with him.”

  “Anyone you recognized?”

  “No.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know, just like any other lumberjack loitering about Westward…and now The Hawthorne Inn. What does it matter?”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. I’m sorry for grilling you—”

  “Ezra was drunk,” I uttered, almost to myself. “And he told me I wouldn’t want to know the details of why he’d done this.”

  “Of course.” Vance said the words under his breath.

  I opened my eyes and directed them to his, but his gaze was still focused on my hair. I hadn’t paid much attention to what he’d been doing with the pins. I’d been too amazingly relaxed and then distracted by our conversation. Just having Vance help walk me through my feelings of hurt and betrayal concerning Ezra made the idea of facing Dexter and Estella that much easier. Surely I wouldn’t lose my job. Surely they would understand my predicament.

  “Do you know why he would want to cut off my hair?”

  Vance didn’t answer, and I had a feeling he knew something about it but wouldn’t tell me. He silently handed me the leftover hairpins.

  “Is Ezra truly an acquaintance of yours?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen him around.”

  “He probably knows who you are.”

  “Doesn’t everyone know who I am?”

  “I didn’t know who you were when we met. I’d never heard of you before; just your father’s name because he’d sold Everston to Dexter.”

  “How refreshing.” Vance gave me a sly look from the corner of his eye, stood, and helped me to my feet. “How odd it is that it was I who knew of you before we met, and not the other way around.”

  “Me? How would you know me?”

  “Your brother has a rather loose tongue when it comes to bragging about his beautiful yet staunchly moral little sister.”

  I cringed at the thought. If Vance Everstone knew of me from Ezra, how many other disreputable young men also knew about me? And what had Ezra said? Was that the explanation for how Vance responded to me upon our meeting?

  “What exactly would Ezra say about me?”

  “I wouldn’t fret about it, Violet. He has a big mouth. You must know that. I suppose talking about you to his friends is his twisted way of being proud of having such a beautiful sister.”

  “Even if anyone considered me beautiful before, they wouldn’t now. My glorious hair was my only true beauty, and now it’s gone.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “No respectable young lady would have her hair cut like this. I think Ezra wanted to humiliate me for some reason.”

  Vance helped me to my feet and led me to the hall, still intent on taking me up to dinner, apparently. I let him lead me willingly, one hand on his arm, the other holding my bonnet by the ribbons. I didn’t know when I’d changed my mind about attending Estella’s dinner.

  “Ezra might be up to something, but believe me, as long as I’m around—and I’m sure Dexter will agree to protect you as well—we will make sure you’re safe. But that means no more lingering about the deserted veranda at dusk; especially when a certain outlaw brother is around.” Vance caught my gaze.

  “I wasn’t lingering about. I was just about to go inside when—”

  “Violet, I’m only joking. You didn’t do anything wrong, besides possibly being too sympathetic to your no-good—”

  “I should have headed inside the moment I knew he was—”

  “You should have called up to Dexter and told him Ezra was—”

  “You think I should turn him in? My own brother?”

  “I can understand your dilemma. I’d have a difficult time doing that as well…but even now, after what he’s done to you, you’re still sympathetic,” he stated frankly.

  “After what Ezra said, I can’t believe he wanted to hurt me. He said he wanted to keep something worse from happening. I didn’t really understand what he was getting at.”

  “Hopefully you won’t have to find out.”

  I looked up to Vance again; his eyes were focused on the elevator, still a ways down the hall.

  It had felt so good to talk to someone about what had happened; it had been so long since I’d had anyone to truly confide in—ever since my parents had passed away. I hadn’t made many of what I would call true friends while working at Everston for the last nine months, and was well aware of the reason: no one wanted to associate with a young woman whose closest relative ran a brothel.

  I’d thought I could be friends with Estella, but not when her true identity was revealed. Instead of being a simple girl named Elle Stoneburner who might understand my predicament, she was a member of high society. I couldn’t be presumptuous and expect too much from her, not when she was an heiress to a fortune, and I the sister of a brothel owner. Even if she and Dexter invited me to dinner sometimes, and I politely accepted, I couldn’t think to actually form a friendship with her. Especially not now.

  And Vance, her brother—the “heir apparent” of the majority of the Everstone fortune and empire—despite being so surprisingly helpful to me, wasn’t my friend. Even if he wanted to be, I didn’t think I could allow it.

  “You look rather like a careless Shakespearean nymph, now that I think about it,” his smooth voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up catching his eye for just a moment.

  “I’m not a careless…anything.”

  “I can tell. You’re quite the opposite of your brother, you know. Just as he’s described.” Vance cocked an eyebrow over a suspicious look. “What were you just thinking about a few minutes ago?”

  “Oh nothing. You’ve done enough to help me, Mr. Everstone—”

  “Please, call me Vance. It’s long overdue.”

  “And you’ve done more than was needed already…Vance.”

  He stopped our progress down the hall toward the elevator, motioning me toward a mirror hanging on the wall nearby.

  “And really for nothing, for I’d much rather you make my excuses to your sister and her husband than show up to dinner like—”

  “Nonsense, you look perfectly acceptable.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Just look.” He gave me a little push toward the mirror.

  I faced it, hating to do so in his presence. But what I saw startled me. Yes, my eyes were slightly puffy from the tears I’d shed, but my hair looked amazi
ng. And I was used to doing the most extravagant styles I could manage…back when I’d had an abundance of hair to work with.

  Vance Everstone, somehow, with expert skill, had pulled each and every golden strand of my hair and twisted the ends into a lovely roll that circled the back of my head, from ear to ear.

  I almost asked him how he knew to do such a thing, but just as quickly realized that I probably didn’t want to know.

  “Ready to go up?”

  “What will I tell them if they notice?”

  “Why not tell them the truth, as you’ve told me?”

  “I wouldn’t want to worry them. They wouldn’t understand.”

  “You thought I wouldn’t worry about you?”

  “Well, not exactly that, but I knew you’d understand, somehow. And you did, probably better than anyone else could ever try.”

  “I’m sincerely happy I could be of service.” He placed my hand back upon his arm and escorted me to the elevator. We’d never met before dinner in the lobby; I was usually there early, and Vance was usually late, just as he’d been that time.

  We stood silently next to the ever-present elevator attendant on the way up to the sixth floor. For as calm as I’d been while he styled my hair, my heart now beat erratically in my chest just standing near Vance Everstone. And yet I wished to run; I needed to run as far away from him as I could get, not exit the elevator onto the sixth floor to have dinner with him and his sister.

  But Ben Whitespire would be there as well. He was probably already upstairs, for he was usually early too. Yes, I would focus on Ben. Even if he hardly acknowledged me as I wished he would, he was good, and good to be around.

  And Vance, no matter his charm, was most certainly not.

  It didn’t matter how wonderful he’d seemed during the last twenty minutes. He was a rake, and even if one of the rumors I’d heard circulating through Everston about him were true, it would be one too many.

  2

  Dinner at Everston

  “Let men tremble to win the hand of woman….”