by Cat Cahill
“Then what was it? Especially considering the amount increased since the first time you met with my mother.” Eli was speaking through gritted teeth. Molly didn’t have to see his face to know that.
Mr. Carter didn’t reply right away. Instead, he glanced at Mrs. Jennings again, and when his gaze returned to Eli, he wore a pained expression on his face. “It was a series of loans. To keep his business afloat.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been through his accounts. The company was solvent, and was doing quite well before his death.”
Mr. Carter shrugged, as if that didn’t concern him. “Perhaps it wasn’t for the company. I didn’t ask. After all, people borrow money for all sorts of reasons. Gambling debts, to repay less savory folks, to—pardon me, ma’am—keep certain women in comfort.”
Eli’s back was as stiff as the wall Molly stood against, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. Molly couldn’t blame him. After all, Mr. Carter just about slandered his father. She only prayed he wouldn’t strike out at Mr. Carter.
“I am a man of the law, Carter,” Eli said in an even, barely contained tone. “Else you might find yourself in a great deal of pain right now for what you just implied about my father, and in front of his wife, too.”
Mr. Carter raised both his hands, as if to ward off any punches Eli might throw at him. “Now, don’t get upset. I didn’t mean to imply any of that was true. I was merely offering examples. Mr. Jennings borrowed from me—more than once—and I need the debts repaid, that’s all.”
“There are no debts.” Eli took a step toward Mr. Carter.
Molly wanted to reach out and grab his arm, to hold him back and ask him to get the police instead. But she remained where she was, gripping the doorframe for all it was worth while Mrs. Gowan drifted in from the kitchen behind her.
Carter slid to the right, closer to the door as Eli approached him. “I can assure you there were.”
“You have no proof.” Eli took another step forward, to the side this time, as if he was attempting to keep Carter in the room.
Carter said nothing, but he sidestepped Eli and paused just by the parlor door, mere steps away from Molly.
Mrs. Gowan reached for Molly’s hand, indicating they should retreat to the kitchen. The last thing Molly wanted to do now was disappear, not when Eli had Mr. Carter cornered like the coward he was. But she took a step backward with Mrs. Gowan to put distance between them and Mr. Carter.
The movement drew Mr. Carter’s attention away from Eli. His blue-gray eyes widened in surprise when he saw her standing in the Jennings’s hallway. “Miss Hill! Why are you . . .” He trailed off as he glanced between her and Eli, and his expression hardened as he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion in his mind. “You are quite the opportunist,” he said to Eli.
“Don’t change the subject,” Eli almost growled at Mr. Carter.
Mrs. Jennings drifted back into Molly’s view, coming up alongside her son. “Eli . . .”
“Why don’t we take a ride over to the city police and sort this out?” Eli said to Mr. Carter, stepping in front of his mother.
The man shifted, and Molly could feel the nervousness wafting off him in waves. Eli’s gaze flicked to her, and he jerked his head just slightly toward the kitchen, which sat at the end of the hall.
Mrs. Gowan immediately moved backward, and she tugged at Molly’s hand. Molly took a step back, but she refused to hide. If Mr. Carter did something, she wanted to know immediately so she could go for assistance. She was much faster than either Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Gowan, and besides, her carriage sat waiting just out front. Her heart pounded, but she stayed put even as Eli glared at her. She wouldn’t leave him alone in this, whether he loved her or not.
“There’s no need to involve the police,” Mr. Carter said, his hands going to his hips. Eli’s right hand drifted over the pistol that sat holstered, but he didn’t remove it. And when Mr. Carter settled his hands on his hips, Eli dropped his hand to his side again.
Molly swallowed as she pressed a hand against the staircase beside her. Surely Mr. Carter wasn’t armed. He was hardly the sort of man to carry a weapon. Surely—
Everything happened so quickly that Molly didn’t have time to react. Seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Carter drew a small revolver, and just as Eli drew in response, Mr. Carter had taken three steps to the side and clamped a hand around Molly’s arm.
She gasped and tried to pull away as her heart threatened to burst from her chest, but he held fast.
“Leave her out of this.” Eli’s words were heated. He moved forward, down the hall, both hands grasping the pistol he pointed at Mr. Carter.
“Back away, Deputy,” Mr. Carter said as he drew Molly in front of him.
She tried to pull away from him, the blood pounding in her ears, but he held firm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his revolver pointed at Eli. “Let me go,” she spat at him as she tried again to pry his hand off her arm.
Mr. Carter said nothing to her, instead wrenching her arm in front of her as he pulled her against him. If he thought that might keep her still, he was sorely mistaken. Molly pushed against his arm, which was clenched to her stomach.
“Be still,” he whispered in her ear, his breath making her shudder. “Lest I shoot your favorite suitor.”
Molly froze. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t, not with Eli aiming at him, too. Unless he was that desperate . . . Molly couldn’t tell, but she wasn’t about to put Eli in more danger than he already was.
“We’ll be leaving now,” Mr. Carter said to Eli, as if this were a pleasant social visit.
“You’re going nowhere,” Eli said. His voice was even, and the revolver he held on Mr. Carter didn’t so much as shake. His entire demeanor was the opposite of how Molly felt at that moment—terrified, jumpy, and wishing for nothing more than the ability to hide in the kitchen as Eli had wanted her to. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she wouldn’t have, even if she’d known what would happen. She never would have left Eli to face this alone.
“On the contrary, Miss Hill and I will be leaving in the carriage out front. And you’ll be remaining here. I bid you good day, Mr. Jennings.” Mr. Carter pressed her forward, and Molly’s legs moved reluctantly toward the door.
Eli remained in front of them, revolver on Mr. Carter, refusing to move until Mr. Carter drew the muzzle of his own pistol away from Eli and instead, pointed it toward Molly.
She swallowed hard, seeing the polished metal out of the corner of her eye. Eli’s eyes darkened with anger, and he clenched his jaw. He didn’t lower his weapon, but stepped backward, out of the hallway and just into the parlor.
“Farther,” Mr. Carter said, and after a brief moment during which Molly thought that if Eli could have downed Mr. Carter with only his eyes, he would have, Eli took another few steps back into the parlor, his mother just behind him.
Mrs. Jennings clasped her hands together, her face lined in worry as Mr. Carter nudged Molly sideways down the hallway. Just past the staircase, Mrs. Gowan clutched the kitchen doorframe. No one said a word as they approached the door.
“Open it, Miss Hill, if you please,” Mr. Carter said.
Molly choked back a sob. They were leaving and there was nothing she could do to stop it. There was nothing Eli could do. What was going to happen? What would Mr. Carter do with her once they were in the carriage? Where would he take her?
“Now, please.” Mr. Carter ground the words out through his teeth, shaking the revolver ever so slightly.
Molly gripped the doorknob awkwardly, given the angle at which he held her, and turned. The door opened inward, and in one quick motion, Mr. Carter led her around the door and sideways down the steps. They walked backward to the carriage, Eli at the door now.
The driver, seemingly unfazed at this turn of events, opened the door while Molly’s own driver watched in alarm. Mr. Carter stepped inside, and then pulled Molly in after him. The driver shut the door, and Molly was alone in the carriage wi
th a desperate man.
Chapter Twenty-four
The second the Brougham lurched forward, Eli shoved the revolver into its holster and raced down the porch steps past Molly’s idling carriage. Carter’s driver moved the horse along quickly. Eli pushed himself to run faster through the muck of the street, realizing far too late that he should have taken Molly’s carriage. His lungs burned and a few folks out for a morning walk stared at him. Eli barely noticed them. Molly was in that carriage, alone with Carter, and Eli refused to let him get away with her.
He was catching up as the buggy reached the street corner. It would need to slow if it intended to turn—and Eli prayed it would turn. He didn’t know what Carter intended to do with Molly once he reached his destination, and he didn’t want to find out.
The Brougham arrived at the corner, and to Eli’s relief, the driver slowed the horse. That was all he needed. He pushed himself harder and drew even with the carriage on what he thought would be Carter’s side. He reached for the door, just out of sight of the window. Just as the carriage began to turn, Eli grasped the handle and yanked the door open.
The carriage swayed and he stumbled backward into the mud. A larger coach swerved around him, but Eli barely noticed. The Brougham came to a halt as the driver jerked around to see what had caused his conveyance to rock sideways.
Carter’s face appeared in the doorway. Eli scrambled up, unable to see Molly in the dark interior of the carriage.
“Go!” Carter shouted at the driver as he fumbled with something in his hands.
Eli took no chances, rolling to his side as he approached the buggy and just narrowly missing the shot Carter fired. He gripped the wheel and stood.
“What are you waiting for? Drive!” Carter yelled again. But the driver had leapt to the ground and was backing away toward the confectionery that sat on the corner.
Eli took advantage of Carter’s distraction. He reached inside the door and grabbed hold of the man’s coat, yanking him out of the Brougham and into the street.
Carter fell ungracefully into the road, his hat landing top down in the mud. Eli was only vaguely aware that horses and carriages around them had come to a halt. Carter recovered quickly, raising the hand that still held the revolver—but Eli moved faster. He leapt from where he stood by the door and grabbed hold of Carter’s arm, pushing it back down into the muddy road. The force knocked the revolver from Carter’s grasp. Eli kicked at it, sending it further out of the man’s reach.
“Mr. Emerson!”
Eli couldn’t comprehend why Molly would be calling Emerson’s name in the middle of this, but he couldn’t think about it for long. Carter was stronger than he looked. The man had grabbed hold of Eli’s arm, and with one forceful push, knocked Eli to the side. Eli rose just in time to see Carter crawling to his revolver. Eli reached for his own weapon, but before he could draw, a hand scooped up Carter’s gun.
“Hold it right there, Carter,” a voice said.
Eli scrambled to his feet, pistol in hand, to see Emerson standing just before them, aiming Carter’s small revolver at its owner. Eli stood there, breathing hard and utterly dumbfounded.
Molly appeared at Eli’s side in an instant. “Are you hurt?”
He glanced down to find her looking up at him, one hand clutching his arm and the other reaching to turn his face so she could examine it. “I’m fine,” he said, still trying to figure out where Emerson had come from. “How are you? Did that coward hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. But more than ready to see him in jail.” She smiled weakly at him. “Thank you for coming after me.”
“Pardon me, Jennings, but what did you want to do with this . . .” Emerson trailed off as he eyed Carter, and Eli could only guess at the colorful word he might have used if Molly weren’t within earshot.
“Put him in his carriage. We’ll take him to the police station.”
They got a sputtering, muddy Carter into the Brougham. Emerson found the driver and convinced him to climb back onto the carriage.
“I’m happy to escort Miss Hill home,” Emerson said as Eli kept an eye on Carter.
I’m certain you are. Eli looked to Molly. It was the last thing he wanted, but he refused to give in to the jealousy that had consumed him before. Nothing Emerson could say in the next few hours would change Eli’s feelings. He’d still apologize for his actions and tell Molly how he felt, as terrifying as it was, and let her decide.
Molly glanced at Eli and gave him a small smile. It was a tiny thing, but it lifted his spirits. Something about it gave him hope.
“Thank you, Mr. Emerson. Might we check on Eli’s mother first? I’d like to let her know we’re all safe.”
“Of course,” Emerson replied, though he didn’t look thrilled with the idea. Eli nodded his thanks to Molly while his heart swelled with her thoughtfulness.
“Thank you for happening by at just the right time,” Molly said to Emerson.
“Well, it was a lucky coincidence.” Emerson straightened his tie with a furtive look at Eli.
Eli tried not to smirk. Emerson had been coming to see him. Why, he didn’t know, but he was certain it had something to do with their meeting last night. Whether he’d been coming to apologize or demand an apology himself, it didn’t matter now. He wasn’t the guilty party, and, Eli supposed, he ought to ask Emerson’s pardon for his actions last evening.
“I appreciate your help,” he said, shifting the pistol to his left hand to extend his right to Emerson.
Emerson paused, then took his outstretched hand. “Glad to provide it.”
“My apologies for last evening,” Eli added.
Molly knitted her eyebrows as she glanced between them, but to Eli’s relief, she said nothing.
“Accepted.” Emerson extended his arm to Molly. “And may the best man win.”
Indeed, Eli thought as Emerson led Molly away. Just as he slid into the carriage next to Carter, she glanced back at him with a reassuring smile.
“Let’s go,” he said to the driver. The sooner he delivered Carter, the sooner he could speak with Molly.
Chapter Twenty-five
Molly sat huddled under three quilts, with her feet propped up, and a china cup of steaming tea beside her when Eli arrived later that afternoon.
He stood in the doorway, Stevens hovering next to him, and gave her the most befuddled look.
“Miss Hill, may I present Mr. Jennings?” the butler said in his usual formal manner.
“Thank you,” Molly said, and after agreeing to let him inform the kitchen staff that Eli would also enjoy tea and perhaps some cake, Stevens finally left.
“Are you ill?” Eli asked as he entered the room. He sat in one of the wing chairs across from her.
“No.” Molly shrugged off the quilts and laid them to the side of her on the settee. “Aunt Ellen has been fussing over me all day. Her remedy for a distressful morning is, apparently, to treat it as if I’ve caught cold.” She breathed deeply as her skin began to cool. Sitting under several quilts in early summer was not the most comfortable experience.
Eli’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “I’m sorry about what happened. I should have suspected Carter. Moreover, I should have insisted you remain outside. What happened to you is entirely my fault.”
“No, the only person at fault is Mr. Carter himself. Did he give an explanation?”
“He didn’t. But I assume his fruit company isn’t doing as well as he boasted.”
“Thank you, again. For everything.” Molly sat forward and laid a hand on Eli’s arm. It was a natural reaction, and one she didn’t think twice about until she’d done it. And now she wasn’t certain whether to leave it there or take it back. If she left it, and Eli told her she was mistaken about his interest in her . . . She drew her hand away and looked down at her lap as her cheeks warmed.
“Molly, I . . .”
She swallowed hard and drew her eyes up. Rosa, one of her aunt’s kitchen help, had arrived with a tray of tea and little c
akes. Eli watched Molly intently as Rosa set the tray down and asked if they needed anything else.
“No. Thank you, Rosa,” Molly said, her voice wavering just a little. The girl nodded and left the room.
Eli rubbed his palms on the legs of his trousers as Molly stood and poured him some tea to busy herself. There was a heavy feeling in the air. She’d never felt so awkward around Eli before.
“Sugar or milk?” she asked.
“Sugar,” Eli replied.
When she turned to bring him the cup and saucer, he was standing just behind her. She swallowed again and handed him the tea. “Would you like—”
“I’d like to talk to you before I lose the courage,” he said, setting the tea back on the tray. “Please.”
Molly nodded mutely and clasped her hands together. She didn’t dare hope he’d say what she wanted to hear, and yet her heart fluttered traitorously in her chest.
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for months.” Eli’s face looked slightly green as he spoke, and his fingers appeared to shake before he shoved them into his pockets.
“Go on,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes a moment and drew a deep breath as if he were about to relay an enormous secret. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he gave a wry laugh as he opened his eyes again.
Molly bit her lip. Perhaps it was as she thought, then—that he was terrified to confess his feelings. That fluttering hope grew into a butterfly, beating inside her chest.
He looked toward the parlor door, as if that would give him the courage he needed. Finally, he turned back to her, his eyes a dark green with flecks of brown, and a smile playing across his lips. “Perhaps if I imagine you an outlaw with a shotgun pointed at me, this will be easier.”
Laughter bubbled up inside Molly, and she smiled. “Would you like to sit?”
“No. No, standing is better.” He looked down at her hands as if debating, and then finally reached for one. His warm fingers curled around hers, and Molly felt as if she’d come home.
