A Stranger's Wife

by Maggie Osborne

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly, his eyes locked to hers. “I do know that taking you to bed could create enormous problems and complications.”

  “So you’d rather take a mistress,” she said jerking away from him. “Fine, you do that.” Walking quickly she moved away from him, kicking at the snow. “Let’s talk about Miriam,” she said abruptly, flinging the words over her shoulder.

  Thinking about Miriam grounded her, reminded her that Quinn saw his wife when he looked at her with those smoldering eyes. It was Miriam he saw in Miriam’s room, in Miriam’s bed. Miriam he saw at the end of the table, wearing Miriam’s clothes and Miriam’s earrings and perfume.

  But it was Lily whom he rejected as causing too many problems and complications.

  “Miriam,” he repeated in an expressionless tone.

  Furious that they thought she was an adventuress, she raised her hem and strode along the row of elm trees. How dare they? She hadn’t come to them; they had forced her into this situation. She struck back at him the only way she knew how, by throwing Miriam at him.

  “I know Miriam didn’t support your decision to run for governor. How strong was her objection?” He pretended indifference to Miriam’s disappearance, but Lily had grasped this was not true. There were painful unresolved issues between Quinn and his wife. He didn’t like to think about Miriam, would have preferred not to talk about her.

  “Miriam hoped I would become a judge like her father,” he said shortly, catching up to her. “Politics bored her, and she shrank from the social obligations that would be required of a governor’s wife.”

  “Then she didn’t support your candidacy.” Right now she detested Miriam and would have given the earth not to look like her. “Wouldn’t Miriam’s lack of support make her a political liability?” She felt his gaze swing to her and his attention sharpen.

  “Yes.” Although the answer came reluctantly, his tone sharpened like cracking ice.

  Turning in a swirl of skirts, she faced him. “Then she disappeared at a convenient time, didn’t she?”

  “What are you suggesting?” His angry expression hardened into a cold tight mask.

  “I ain’t—” She stamped her foot in frustration. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely stating the obvious.”

  He studied her for a long, searching moment before he caught her arm and turned back toward the mansion. Stumbling along beside him, Lily tried to recall exactly what she had said that made him so coldly furious. Whatever it was, she was glad she’d said it.

  “I won’t see much of you during the next few days,” he announced as they approached the gas lanterns flanking the porch. “I have a full week scheduled. I’ll leave the house before you wake, and won’t return until after you’re asleep. Please inform Cranston that I’ll dine at my club.”

  “As you wish,” she snapped.

  They entered the house in chilly silence. As Lily had expected, talking about Miriam had cooled them both. He didn’t look at her. She no longer trembled at the nearness of him.

  But nothing had really changed. They had banked the fires, not extinguished them. When he looked at her before they parted at the bottom of the stairs, she realized he knew it, too.

  Chapter 11

  By Friday, Lily’s nerves were frazzled. She had changed her mind a dozen times about what she would wear for her first at-home before finally deciding on a dove grey velvet trimmed in black and cream. She instructed Elizabeth to dress her hair to match the style Miriam had worn in the portrait Lily would sit beneath, and she chose the same small pearl earrings that Miriam had worn in the painting.

  After much anxious indecision, she finally selected a menu featuring tea cakes with fancy French names, and toast points with marmalade. Cranston seemed content with her choice, so she told herself that she was, too. But he’d thrown her off-balance when he inquired which china she wished to use. Stumbling over her tongue, she had suggested the flowered set. Considering that the rooms where Miriam had spent her time were papered and carpeted with flowers, Lily assumed she must have purchased at least one set of flower-patterned china as well. When Cranston nodded, she knew she had guessed correctly, and her shoulders sagged in relief.

  Every afternoon and evening she settled into her small household office and reviewed Paul’s cards until they were crumpled and ragged and her mind reeled with names and details. It was Mrs. Brown whose daughter had recently married a Spanish count, not Mrs. Black’s daughter. Mrs. Smith who was organizing the Christmas ball, not Mrs. Smyth.

  Now the day of her at-home had arrived, and she was edgy and nervous, utterly convinced that she couldn’t possibly succeed.

  “Damn,” she muttered, pacing across the formal parlor where she would receive her guests. She would call Helene Van Heusen by her first name along with a handful of others, but most of the callers were to be addressed by their married names. With luck, she would remember which were which. But she didn’t feel lucky.

  She was convinced the ladies would take one look at her and immediately suspect she was not Miriam. The moment she spoke they would know for certain.

  Someone would denounce her. Newspaper headlines would proclaim the scandal. Quinn would be ruined, his candidacy in shambles. Paul would send her back to Yuma in chains.

  “Stop pacing,” Quinn said, entering the room. “You’ve done this a hundred times.”

  Glaring, she bit off a shout of frustration. She was almost certain to pour scalding tea on someone’s hand rather than into her cup, or spill her own tea in her lap. She could imagine herself calling a dear friend of Miriam’s by the wrong name, or politely asking a widow how her husband was feeling.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, sinking into a chair. The wrong chair. Jumping to her feet, she flung herself into the chair beneath the altered portrait. “I’m not up to it. I’m rushing things. This was a mistake.”

  “Nonsense,” Quinn said, taking a chair across from her. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “You’ve always been nervous before a social event.”

  By now she knew Miriam’s habits well enough to know that Miriam would not have paced or flung herself from chair to chair. Miriam would have borne up with sad sweetness, betraying her nervousness by quieter means than Lily. Perhaps watery eyes or a trembling lower lip.

  Wringing her hands, she scowled at Quinn. “How can you be so calm?” Despite her best intentions, she was about to destroy his dreams, she just knew it.

  Today the audience widened, and it would be a critical audience. Her callers would study her with all-seeing eyes, searching for lingering signs of illness and melancholy. They would notice every detail of her second-stage mourning gown and recall the fire and the death of her daughter, closely examining her behavior for signs of recovery or continuing grief.

  Susan. Lord, in her nervousness she had forgotten why she was wearing mourning. In fact, as Susan hadn’t been her daughter, Lily seldom thought of Susan at all. Guilt tightened her throat. Days passed when she was too occupied to think of Rose either.

  “Do you ever think about Susan?” she blurted. “Miss her?”

  Quinn looked down, adjusting the ruby stud in his cuff. “Not often.”

  His blunt honesty shocked her. “This is one of those times when I wish you’d lied,” she said with a sigh. “Someone should remember poor little Susan.” And poor little Rose. “She was your daughter, too.”

  “You look lovely,” Quinn said, giving her one of those long slow looks that made her feel crazy with wanting him. Today he wore a dark coat over a silver waistcoat and grey trousers, and he’d had his hair trimmed. The ladies would thrill to his charm and rugged good looks. As she did, she thought with another sigh.

  “You’re in a good mood,” she commented sourly. “Apparently it’s lifted your spirits to spend a week without me.” She hated to admit it, but she’d missed him. Life without Quinn was pallid and uninteresting, the days long and bland. She’d actually pressed her ear to the connecting door between the
ir bedrooms to hear him moving around, and had tried to think of excuses to rap on the door and talk to him.

  “I spent a couple of days at the ranch. Getting out of the city rejuvenates me.”

  She had been correct. There were a few nights when he hadn’t returned to the mansion. “How fortunate for you. I haven’t been out of this house since I arrived except for one short walk.” Which she didn’t care to recall, especially not now when she needed to think like, act like, and become Miriam.

  Five minutes later, at three o’clock on the dot, Cranston wheeled the tea wagon into the parlor and Lily felt her blood pressure surge. After fiddling with the items on the wagon, Cranston cocked an ear toward the front of the house. “There’s the bell. I believe your guests are beginning to arrive, madam.”

  Lily’s heart slammed against her rib cage, fluttered hard, and dived to her toes. She fanned her face wildly and prayed for the strength to stand when Cranston ushered the ladies into the parlor. “Damn, damn, damn. I can’t do this. They’ll know.”

  “Cranston will announce each guest by name,” Quinn reminded her in a low voice, standing behind her chair. His fingers touched her shoulder, and she shuddered lightly as a hot tingle shot through her body. “Remember, none of your guests have any reason to suspect you’re not who you pretend to be.”

  “But what if I make a mistake?” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the door. She couldn’t have dreaded this more if she’d been expecting a lynch mob.

  “If you make a mistake, my political career will be destroyed, a lesser man will become the first governor of Colorado, and the history of the western half of the United States will be irrevocably altered.”

  Gasping, she twisted around to look at him in horror. When she saw his smile and realized he was teasing her, Lily burst into semihysterical laughter. His gaze softened and astonishingly, he winked at her.

  “Thank you,” she said when she could speak. Some of the tension had fled from her shoulders and throat.

  Quinn was standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder, and she was smiling up at him when Cranston announced her first two guests. When Lily realized the tableau they presented, she wondered if he’d arranged it deliberately.

  It didn’t matter. Feeling better, she drew a breath, stood, and pasted a smile on her lips. Frantically, she struggled to recall the information on Paul’s cards, was certain it had all gone out of her head. Silently cursing a blue streak, she stepped forward and extended her hands, hoping coherent words would fall out of her mouth when she parted her lips.

  “Mrs. Brown, I’m happy to see you again. I’m so sorry to have missed Electra’s wedding. I’ve heard the ceremony was lovely. And Augusta,” she said, turning a wobbly smile on her second guest. “How stunning you look.”

  Glancing at the door, she noticed Quinn greeting the next arrivals, chatting and leading them toward her. Panic flared in her eyes as she hadn’t heard Cranston’s announcement. But Quinn smoothly referred to each of the three ladies by name and in less than a minute she had placed them.

  During the next twenty minutes, Lily was too busy to fret, too occupied greeting guests and pouring tea to be drawn into any potentially disastrous conversations.

  What she had failed to realize when she worried about her debut as Miriam was the number of callers prevented any but the most superficial of conversations. As she went about her duties as hostess, the ladies crowding the parlor talked among themselves. Occasionally she noticed someone looking from her to the portrait with a slightly puzzled expression, but to her relief and amazement, most of the women didn’t appear to question that she was Miriam Westin.

  The true test arrived when Cranston announced Helene Van Heusen. If Lily passed the inspection of Miriam’s intimate friend, she might finally relax a little.

  Stiffening her spine and squaring her shoulders, she swiftly reviewed everything she knew about Helene. A formidable and dominating woman. Active in social clubs. No children. Her husband was Paul’s counterpart in the opposing party, a man who was grooming a candidate to run against Quinn in the upcoming election.

  Lily could certainly understand why Quinn had objected to the puzzling friendship between Miriam and Helene Van Heusen. What she didn’t understand was why Miriam had defied her husband to continue an unsuitable and unwise association.

  A brief silence befell the group when Helene appeared in the doorway, and the significance was not lost on Lily. Her lady callers did not care for the imperious woman who scarcely deigned to notice them.

  Helene sailed across the parlor, her gloved hands outstretched. “No, no, dear, don’t rise, you’ve been ill and you look it. You’re much too thin.” Cool black eyes settled on the woman seated beside Lily. “I can only stay a moment, so I’m sure you won’t mind finding another chair, will you, dear? How thoughtful of you.” She slid into the chair Mrs. Alderson silently vacated and peered into Lily’s face. “You look lovely, but the changes are evident. And no wonder after all you’ve been through. It’s to be expected,” she said, patting Lily’s hand.

  “Helene, you haven’t changed a bit,” she said carefully.

  “Your voice! What happened to your voice? You sound like a different person!”

  The sudden silence in the room informed her that Helene wasn’t the only person to notice and wonder. But Lily had anticipated this question and prepared a response. “It was the violent coughing,” she explained softly, letting her shoulders slump. “The doctors fear I’ve permanently damaged my vocal cords.”

  Quinn had been listening and followed her lead. From his position near the fireplace, he added, “The doctors doubt Miriam will regain the same tonal consistency as before her illness. Most likely she’ll always sound as husky as she does now.”

  Tonal consistency? The reference sounded like nonsense to Lily, but the ladies nodded solemnly and murmured sounds of sympathy.

  Mimicking Miriam’s fluttery gestures, Lily raised a hand to her throat and gave her head a resigned shake, using the moment to examine Helene Van Heusen in greater detail.

  Wings of white hair flowed back from Helene’s powdered face, twisting into an intricate chignon that formed a base for a hat trimmed more elaborately than others in the room. Lily guessed that even in her youth Helene had not been beautiful, but she was striking. Fine black eyes dominated a strong face and determined chin, eyes that saw everything and passed instant judgment.

  “I do hope your stubborn husband informed you that I did everything but threaten at gunpoint in an effort to learn the address of the sanitarium where you were staying. Mr. Westin is solely to blame for your friends being unable to write you any notes of encouragement.”

  “I wasn’t permitted to receive mail.” Lily patted her chest as if she were still ill. “I was so terribly weak, and my attention wandered. I couldn’t have responded.”

  “The doctors prohibited any excitement or stimulation,” Quinn explained, returning to stand behind her.

  Lily could not see his expression, but she saw Helene’s eyes go flat and harden. “I’m surprised to see you,” Helene said rudely. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. Your performance as a devoted husband is lost on us, as no one here can vote.” There was no mistaking the dislike in her tone and expression. “You could have spared yourself an inconvenience and stayed at your office.”

  Even to Lily, Helene’s bluntness was startling. She sucked in a sharp breath and heard the other women do the same. Only the rustling of skirts and the quiet clink of cups descending to saucers broke an abrupt and uncomfortable silence.

  Quinn’s hand dropped to Lily’s shoulder. “Had I put work before my wife, I would have missed the pleasure of enjoying Denver’s most charming ladies.” Quinn’s words lengthened into a lazy drawl, and Lily could picture him smiling at the guests.

  It was then that she noticed Helene gripped her wrist as if she and Quinn engaged a subtle tug of war with Lily as the prize.

  Helene’s laugh was harsh. “More to the po
int, you hope these charming ladies will influence their husbands to vote for a man willing to give up an afternoon to support his wife on her return to society. I doubt I’m the only one to see through such a transparent ploy.”

  Quinn’s fingers pressed hard against Lily’s shoulder, betraying his anger, but his voice was light. “If our lovely guests should choose to mention what a swell fellow I am, I wouldn’t be dismayed.”

  The ladies balancing teacups on their knees smiled or chuckled, and the moment passed. Conversation resumed, and Quinn moved away from Lily’s chair, responding to Cranston’s appearance in the doorway.

  Speechless, Lily stared at Helene. She had no idea what to say to the woman.

  “I can understand that you wouldn’t wish to communicate with—” Helene waved a hand, indicating Lily’s other guests—“but to deny me access to my dear little friend. Well! Such arrogance is not to be borne.” Her eyes narrowed on Lily’s dress. “Really, Miriam, you’re too old-fashioned. I don’t wish to be indelicate, but these days no one does a full year of mourning for a child.”

  Genuine shock widened Lily’s eyes, and she pulled away from Helene’s grip. All of her guests had skimmed a glance over her gown and she had read sympathy in their expressions, but none had alluded to Susan’s death. Certainly she had not expected Miriam’s intimate friend to do so.

  “Now don’t look so stricken,” Helene said, waving an impatient hand. “You’re young, you’ll have other children. You must pull yourself together and get on with life. Sometimes I think you enjoy sadness and melancholy, honestly I do.” She flicked her fingers at Lily’s gown. “Put away those drab things, buy a wardrobe in gay colors, and enjoy the holiday season.”

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” Quinn said coolly, appearing at her side. Leaning, he murmured in her ear. “Walter Robin is in the library with some papers that must be signed at once. I’ll return in five minutes.”

  Lily nodded, and smiled woodenly at her other guests before Helene tugged her arm and leaned closer.