Her face was turned up to his. He shouldn’t find her so tempting, but he did. He drew his fingers across her cheek. It was soft as the velvet in her hat. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his. She inhaled and went rigid.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.” He kissed her again, pulling her more firmly into his arms.
One gloved hand lodged against his chest. The other arm stole around his neck. The sweetness and purity of her lips was like nothing he’d ever dreamed of or imagined. He deepened the kiss and realized how deeply he’d fallen in love with her. Not because she was an Eaton, but because she was Addie. Delightful, laughing Addie.
He pulled away and smiled into her half-closed eyes. The heady fragrance of her hair, her skin, filled his head. Words of love hovered on his lips, but he held them back. It was too soon. He might frighten her.
Her eyes came open, then her fingers crept to her lips. “You kissed me,” she said. “I dreamed you might tonight.”
His heart stuttered, then leaped to a steady rhythm again. “I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
She touched his cheek. “I wondered what love felt like,” she said. “Now I know.”
He crushed her to his chest again. There was no pretense with her. He kissed her again, not caring to hold back the depth of his love.
His breathing was ragged when he raised his head. “Oh Addie, Addie, what did I do before you came into my life?”
Tears shone on her lashes. “I don’t think I lived before tonight.”
“We must be married. Quite soon, darling girl. I can’t wait for long.”
“I’d marry you tonight,” she said. “Right now.”
He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. “I’ll ask your father for your hand tonight.”
A shadow darkened the joy in her eyes. “What about Lord Carrington?”
“What about him?”
“Father seems quite set on a match with him.” She wet her lips. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. That God might be disciplining him. You might be right.”
The shadow didn’t leave her eyes, and the fear in her face spread to him. Henry had to consent.
THIRTY-TWO
ADDIE KEPT TOUCHING her fingertips to her lips on the ride back to the manor. John loved her! She couldn’t take it in. Her lips felt fuller, softer. Different. She was going to be married. Life could change just that fast. She couldn’t wait to tell Katie. Her father had to agree. He just had to. His own daughter would be the new mother of his grandson. What more could he want?
John kissed her quickly when the carriage stopped in front of the manor. “I’ll talk to your father now.”
“I’d like to be there. Is that allowed?”
“It’s not usual,” he said. “But I can’t deny you anything tonight.”
Her heart would not stop its insistent knocking against her ribs. “I’m so happy,” she whispered.
He clambered down and held out his hand. “I’ll do my best to keep you that way,” he said, his eyes smiling.
She looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her toward the house. “That’s Lord Carrington’s brougham,” she said.
“Perhaps he’ll leave soon so we can talk to your father.” He opened the door for her.
The flowers on the entry table perfumed the hall. She and John followed the voices to the drawing room, where she found Lord Carrington and her father smoking cigars. The claret was out on the table, and both were talking more loudly than usual.
Her father turned his head and saw her in the doorway. His face was flushed, but he bellowed out her name. “Julia, my dear, I have wonderful news for you. Come in. You too, John. You might as well hear this now.”
She glanced at John, then slipped into the room. “What is it, Father?” She’d never get used to calling him Father.
His smile was expansive, and he preened. “Your future is all settled, my dear. Lord Carrington has graciously asked for your hand, and I’ve given my permission. The wedding is to be at Christmas.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “I know that’s not much time to arrange all the fripperies you ladies like, but Clara will help make the arrangements. You’ll be Lady Carrington.” He beamed at her.
The bright bubble of her joy burst in her chest. Instead of being upset at the denial of a proper proposal, Lord Carrington smiled.
“But Father, I hardly know Lord Carrington,” she said.
Henry waved his hand. “There’ll be time enough for that after the wedding.”
She glared at the Englishman. “I don’t know you well enough to marry you, sir. And you’re much too old for me.”
“Julia!” her father gasped.
She whirled toward her father. Her face was hot, and her hands shook. “It’s true. He also wanted to marry my mother. How can you even think of allowing him to marry me? Did you know he came to see my mother before she died? What if he had something to do with her death?”
“Go to your room!” her father shouted. “You know nothing about this.”
“I know more than you think,” she said. “I’m not going to marry him.”
Lord Carrington rose and stepped to where she stood. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ll leave you to absorb the news, my dear. You’re overwrought. I shall call on you tomorrow.” His eyes held kindness. “I’ll see myself out.”
She stood mute as he walked from the drawing room. When the front door closed, she glanced at John. His eyes were steely. She took his hand, and he squeezed it.
Her father poured himself another glass of claret and drank the whole thing. “I realize you were caught off guard, but I’ll not have my own daughter speak to me with such disrespect.”
“I meant no disrespect, Father, but I’m not going to marry that man. Don’t you even care that he might have had something to do with my mother’s fate?”
“Oh my dear, you’re being much too melodramatic.” Her father leaned back. “Carrington is a good man.”
Was her father being deliberately obtuse? “You don’t know that!”
John dropped her hand and stepped forward. “Henry, I must protest this arrangement. Carrington is much too old for her.”
He set down his glass. “What the devil, John? This is no business of yours.”
“It is indeed, sir. I want to marry Addie myself. I love her, and she loves me.”
Hearing John say the words brought back Addie’s joy. She stepped to his side. “He’s right, Father.” She linked hands with John. “I love John. I want to marry him and be a mother to Edward.”
Her father slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. “Ridiculous!” He shook his finger at John. “I gave you one daughter, whom you made miserable. I’ll see Julia dead before I see her married to you.”
John paled. “Then we’ll marry without your blessing.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Henry surged to his feet. “Go to your room, Daughter. We will discuss this between us.”
“I won’t marry Lord Carrington, Father. I won’t!” She ran from the room and nearly tripped over her skirt in her mad rush upstairs. Sobs tore from her throat.
When she reached her room, she hurled her hat across the room, then fell onto her bed and wailed.
The grandfather clock in Henry’s office chimed two in the morning. John’s movements were jerky as he pulled open the desk drawers and went through them. He barely controlled his anger. Henry had no right to treat Addie like she was some kind of property to be bartered off. He knew what had to be behind this: money. Carrington was probably buying her the way he would a horse.
He heard footsteps in the hall, and he quickly killed the gaslight. The room plunged into darkness. The door opened, and a shadowy form filled the doorway, then moved into the office. There was no place to hide, so he sat motionless until the moonlight allowed him to recognize the figure.
“Addie,” he whispered.
She gasped and turned toward him. “John?”
He rose from the chair and embraced her. “What are you doing up?”
She pulled away, then went to the doorway and shut the door. “Turn on the light.”
“What’s happening?” He lit the light and adjusted the glow.
She joined him at the desk. Her hair spilled onto her lilac dressing gown, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the long curls that hung nearly to her waist.
“You’ve been crying,” he said, noticing her reddened eyes. He took her in his arms again. “We’ll convince your father.”
Her head nestled against his chest and her fingers clung to his shirt. “I can’t marry Carrington, but this is what I’ve longed for.” She raised her head and stared at him with tear-filled eyes. “I wanted to be part of a big family. To have roots. If Father doesn’t consent to our marriage, everything I’ve worked to find will be gone.”
“Are you saying you won’t marry me without his consent?”
She bit her lip. “I would rather have his blessing, but I can’t marry Carrington.” She glanced over his shoulder at the desk. “What are you searching for?”
He guided her to the desk chair. “I want to find proof of your father’s mismanagement. I thought if I could show you that he’s reaping what he’s sown, you’ll be able to let go of feeling responsible for his future.”
“I already know he’s done this himself.”
He pulled out more desk drawers and lifted the contents onto the top. “Sort through these and see what you find.”
She picked up the top sheet of paper. “What am I looking for?”
“Contracts. Legal notices. Bank accounts.” He settled in a chair with another stack of paper. They read in silence for several minutes until he heard her gasp and saw her pale. The paper in her hand shook.
He rose and stepped to the desk. “What did you find?”
She held out the paper. “I think it’s a will. My maternal grandfather’s.”
Not what they needed, but it had obviously upset her, so he took it and began to read. The first part detailed property and money left to Clara and Walter. Both were substantial. He read on.
To my daughter Laura I bequeath the bulk of my entire estate. In the event of her death, the estate shall pass to her daughter. If she leaves no heirs, the estate shall pass to any offspring Clara or Walter produce.
He rubbed his forehead and puzzled out the meaning. Edward was the beneficiary? He was the only descendant. No, wait, he wasn’t thinking right. His gaze went to Addie’s face. She was the legal heir. She was Laura’s daughter. “He wasn’t going to tell you this,” he said slowly. “He’s never told me that all this belongs to Edward, not him and Clara. All he’s ever mentioned is the tract of land I showed you. It’s all been a lie.”
She blanched even more. “He’s acted like this was all his.” She straightened. “Not that it matters now. It’s all gone.”
“No it’s not,” he said slowly. “This is all in a San Francisco bank. It’s still intact.”
“Then why is he so desperate for me to marry Carrington?”
“It’s the title he’s always craved, not so much the money.”
She winced. “He cares so little for me. How has he managed this? How can Walter and Clara not know?”
“Walter was abroad when your grandfather died. And Clara would have let Henry handle matters of the estate. He covered it all up.”
“We have to find that other clue,” Addie said. “Maybe it’s all connected to my mother’s disappearance.”
“There’s no time like the present.”
He tucked the will into his pocket and led Addie up the stairs and down the hall to the attic steps. They creaked under his weight as the couple climbed to the attic. He lit the gaslight. “I’m not sure where to look first.”
Addie scrutinized the attic’s shadowed contents. “My mother loved music.”
“And you. I know there is a trunk of your old toys around here, because Edward found it once. I think it’s in the northwest corner.” He stepped past shrouded furniture and stacks of pictures to the alcove. Two chests were under the window. “I think it was this one.” The brass latches on the chest were battered. He lifted the lid. “Yes, this is the one.” He began to lift out dolls, clothing, and a tiny tea set.
Addie picked up a rag doll and sat down on a rug. “I remember this! The eyes, especially.” She traced the outline of the embroidered face.
John joined her on the carpet and put his arm around her. “I bet you were a beautiful little girl. I hope we have a daughter with your eyes and hair.”
“I want another son, a brother for Edward too,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him.
Her lips tasted of strawberry jam. She wound her arms around him. He deepened the kiss, and passion ignited between them. He couldn’t get enough of her soft lips. Her body was soft beneath his, and he realized they were lying on the carpet instead of sitting on it, though he had no memory of how they got there. It took a monumental effort to roll away and sit up. His pulse hammered in his chest. He wanted to hold her again, but he knew he didn’t dare. She was much too tempting.
She touched his arm. “John?”
He forced a smile. “We’ve gotten sidetracked. Let’s see if there’s anything else here.”
The smile she turned on him stole his breath. Such trust and love. He’d nearly broken that trust. He bent over the chest and pulled out small items.
She picked up the tea set and peered inside each cup, then lifted the lid on the teapot. “John, there’s something here!” She thrust her fingers into the pot and withdrew a tiny scrap of paper.
“Get it under the light,” he said when he saw her squint at the tiny print.
She scrambled to her feet, and he followed her to the sconce on the wall. Her brow wrinkled as she strained to see the words. “It reads ‘Fort Bragg.’” She stared at him. “The first time I talked to Katie was when she called to pass along a message from Father’s secretary about having completed the arrangements for his trip to Fort Bragg. She said he went twice a year.”
A memory surged to the forefront of his mind. “There’s an insane asylum there.”
Addie’s hand went to the pocket of her dressing gown and emerged with a paper. “This clue. The one about that reads ‘insane asylum.’”
He knew what she wanted from her thoughtful expression. “You want to go to Fort Bragg.” But his gut twisted at the thought of digging any deeper into this morass.
THIRTY-THREE
PEOPLE NOTICED WHEN she came to town. Monday morning, Addie could barely make it from store to store without being stopped with a smile and friendly hello. Before it became known she was an Eaton, people were friendly, but now that her identity was common knowledge, they gave her deference.
She knew her smile was lopsided as she spoke and went on her way down the street. Dawn had come with her still wide-eyed and sleepless over the revelations of the night before. Her father cared nothing about her and never would. All that mattered to him was more money and power.
She rounded the corner and saw her uncle outside a tavern. He was staring into the window with a faraway expression that cleared when he turned his head and saw her. “Julia, my dear, you look lovely. What are you doing in town today?”
She brushed a kiss across Walter’s cheek. “I had some errands to run.” Did he know about the will? She didn’t see how he could and have a relationship with her father. He needed to know what she’d found though. She owed him so much. “I found some other things my mother hid,” she said.
He took her arm and drew her off the main sidewalk. “What kind of things?”
“Notes. Clues. One reads, ‘Fort Bragg’ and the other one reads, ‘Father murdered.’”
He blanched. “Did she mean our father was murdered?”
“I’m not sure, but that’s what I’d assumed.”
“Fort Bragg. Henry goes there on business a few times a year.”
“So John said.” It was all she
could do to hold back the contents of the will she’d found. She had to find out more before she told him.
“I’ll put my investigator on it,” he said. “Thank you for keeping me informed. Now I must go, my dear. I have an appointment. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Let me know if you find out anything,” she called after him. She resumed her brisk stroll down the sidewalk and reached the hospital, a small brick building down the block from the garment factory. Mrs. Whittaker had been taken in more than a week ago, and Addie should have checked on her before today. Her only excuse was how unsettled her life had been.
She climbed the steps to the second floor and found the nurses’ desk. After asking the nurse where to find the older woman, she went to the end of the hall. The scent of carbolic and alcohol hung in the air. The coughing of patients told her she’d reached the right ward. She pressed her hand against her diaphragm and took a deep breath. Pinning on a smile, she stepped into the ward.
She walked between the rows of beds. The stench of blood and sickness nearly gagged her. Gaunt, pale faces turned her direction as she traversed the length of the room, searching for Mrs. Whittaker. When a voice called out her name, she turned and saw the woman struggling to sit up in a bed she’d just passed. Mrs. Whittaker had lost weight and was deathly pale.
She lifted a limp hand to Addie. “Miss Sullivan, is that you?”
Addie rushed to the bed and pressed the woman back against the pillow. “Rest, Mrs. Whittaker. I stopped by to see how you are.”
The woman fell back, panting. She dabbed at her lips with the handkerchief. “I’m better. Stronger. But my poor children.”
“Have they been to see you?”
Mrs. Whittaker shook her head. “The county orphanage won’t let them.” She reached over and clutched Addie’s hand. “Would you go see them? Make sure they’re okay. It would mean so much to me to know they aren’t being mistreated.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “Can I get you anything? Food, something to drink?”
“I’m fine, dear. Or I will be.” Her violent coughing into the handkerchief left flecks of blood.
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