by Sharon Page
“She’s a beaut, mister,” the boy said.
Cal’s throat tightened. In the boy’s low whistle, he heard himself twenty years ago. In the boy’s look of longing and desire as he cooed over the car, Cal saw his own hunger, when he’d been a boy, to get money and go places.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Tom.”
On a whim, Cal motioned Tom to come over to his window. He talked to the lad, found out the boy’s father had been a mechanic, but was out of work after the War. “Pa lost his leg, and can’t get any work,” Tom said.
“How terrible,” Julia breathed. “Even here, there isn’t the kindness and care given to the war heroes that should be given.”
“No,” Cal said. “Which is why boys ended up in gangs, fighting for money, fighting to move up in the world.” To Tom, he said, “Tell me where you live. I need a man to fix my engines. I keep a few cars out of the city, and my chauffeur’s leaving me to get married and move out to California. I need a new man. Give me your address, and I’ll come back and talk to your pa. If I think he’s right for the job, there’s a cottage out at my place on Long Island Sound.”
Tom grinned, gave him the address, then took off. He ran up the steps into the open front door of the building.
Cal shook his head. “What are the odds?” he said thoughtfully. “He lives in the apartment I lived in.”
“Will you give his father a job?”
“A missing leg won’t make it impossible for him to tend an engine. That takes a man’s hands and his head. The boy can help him and learn a few things when he’s not in school.”
“This is very good of you.”
“I learned it from you, Julia. The pure, sweet pleasure that comes from helping someone. From changing even one life.”
“Cal...that’s so sweet. Thank you.”
He saw her smile, a smile more radiant than any sunrise, or autumn-leaved forest, or stunning wilderness scene he’d tried to capture on a canvas.
As much as he wanted to turn around and drive away and have Julia, keep her, make sure he never lost her, he knew he had to be honest with her.
* * *
Cal drove away from the sidewalk. Julia reached out and touched his shoulder. More sad apartment buildings flashed by them. She smelled the river, heard a mournful horn.
They were driving toward the tall buildings of the center of Manhattan.
“When I was a kid,” Cal said, “I wanted to make money for my family. I told you my father worked at the docks. He hated the brutality, the intimidating, the thieving. He stood up to the gangs and that got him beaten up. I ended up working for them. First I was running messages and acting as a lookout when they broke into warehouses.”
“But you were just a boy—”
“I knew it was against the law. And I knew it would break my mam’s heart if she knew I’d been helping the gangs. But I needed the money. After Father was killed, I swore I’d never be vulnerable like that. Mam worked as a seamstress in the daytime. Twelve hours a day, every day, she worked in a warehouse with bars over the windows and poor light, worked until she was losing her eyesight. And after she’d slaved all day making clothes, she spent the nights washing dishes at pubs. She worked so hard she got sick. That’s when she got desperate. She feared David and I wouldn’t be able to survive if she couldn’t earn, so she swallowed her pride and wrote to the Carstairs family. She hated that they felt she was nothing. But she kept muttering that they were right and she was nothing because she wasn’t strong enough to look after her boys. She was weak, thin as a tiny bird, because she let David and I have almost all the food. I wouldn’t eat all of mine so she could have some.
“She got sicker, and she lost her jobs. Then she—she sold herself to men for money. I used to hear her cry at night. Some of the men were like the one that beat up Ellen Lambert. They didn’t want sex unless they could use the woman as a punching bag.”
Julia wanted to say something, but saw he needed to talk. So she let him.
“Having to prostitute herself finished her. It ate away at her inside. I wrote to Lady Worthington myself, begging her to help my mother. I hoped for some pity, some shred of kindness. But I didn’t get any. I went back to the Five Points Gang. Then America entered the War and I signed up along with a man I knew, Wild Bill Lovett. When I got out, he was heading up the Jay Street Gang. Prohibition started and I got involved with them and with bootlegging. In war, I’d learned how to kill—”
“Did you—did you do that in the gang?”
“No. I was muscle. I threatened people, collected debts. I never took an innocent life.” They were moving into the tall buildings. “I’m taking you to the Plaza for luncheon. There’s something I’ve got to tell you there.”
“Cal, you don’t have to tell me anything more. I love you, you know.”
They drove down Park Avenue to the Plaza Hotel. Cal stopped there. Cars zipped past them. A cacophony of horns rose around them. Girls strode past on clicking heels.
“I’ll drive you back to Nigel and Zoe if you want, after I tell you this,” Cal said. “I left the Jay Street Gang and started my own enterprise. Bootlegging and fake bonds.” He hung his head. “A member of one of the gangs tried to kill me, to move into my position and get my turf. I had to fight for my life. He stabbed me and I beat him badly. Then he went and got drunk and got hit by a car.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” she said.
“I’d almost beaten him to death, Julia. Rumors started that it was one of my men who ran him down. I don’t think that’s true and I didn’t order it, if it was. Stories grew that I killed people. I didn’t, but that night I had come close to becoming the kind of thug my father hated, the kind of thug who had killed him. I was afraid that next time I might cross the line. I had to fight to succeed without hurting anyone. I got out of crime and spent day and night studying companies so I could invest my money and make enough to look after David.”
“Looking after David is what drove you. You never took anyone’s life. And you got away from crime.”
“That man’s death is on my soul. I pounded him and he likely got drunk to ease the pain. I was sure Mam was turning in her grave over what I was doing. So I went to Paris and tried painting. My dad had taught me how to draw, and he’d brought some paints and pencils from England when he left for good. I found I loved painting, and I guess I could have let it completely heal my soul, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to give up on my desire to get revenge.”
“Do you still want that? I understand if you do—”
“Julia, you crossed an ocean for me. I have to make myself worthy of you. I’m not going to hurt the family. Or destroy the estate. It’s yours, angel, so I can’t do that.”
“You’re helping that young boy. That’s what we should do together. Help people.”
Cal said softly to her, “I used to dream of having a rich man come up and offer me work. Give me a way to escape this place. So maybe I’ve made someone’s dreams come true.”
“You made most of mine come true,” she whispered. “My heart was in bits and pieces and you’ve given me the strength to make it whole. I understand that you can’t see Worthington as a home. Cal, maybe I am too late, but I choose you over Worthington.”
He shook his head. “You were right, Julia. I was always running away. But you can never outrun yourself. I don’t want to run away from the life you want. I know now that I can’t live without you. And, you know, I guess I actually miss Worthington Park.”
She smiled. “Now, let’s go inside, shall we? I have something to tell you.”
“I think we should take a room in there.”
“Really? Whatever for?”
“I want to spend the rest of the day making love to you, Sheba.”
Her heart glowed with joy. �
��There is something I must tell you, Cal. I believe I am expecting our child. If all goes well, you are going to become a father. And I know you will be the most wonderful father.”
“Julia!” He kissed her senseless. “Then we should go home. Back to Worthington.”
He’d called Worthington home. Her heart soared.
“I don’t want to go home just yet,” she said. “I have a few months—and you promised to show me adventure. I want to travel with you and paint.”
Cal looked stunned. But two months later, Julia drew the paddle of a canoe through crystal-clear water. Liquid dripped with each stroke, forming rings and ripples. The morning sun was rising over the mountains, sending warm light over the lake.
“You’re a great paddler,” Cal said, behind her.
Julia half turned, but carefully—she was still concerned she might tip the canoe. “I feel I’m doing it completely out of synchronization with you.”
“It’s perfect,” he said.
“It is.” She gazed over the water. Yellow and red leaves blazed around the lake. They had traveled by train into Canada, then up into the north of the province of Ontario. For weeks, they had traveled, as summer became fall, and had spent days here in a tent. At night they snuggled together in a sleeping sack.
“You know, you look damn sexy in trousers,” Cal said.
Julia blushed. “I don’t know how women ever did this in skirts.”
“Are you really enjoying this, or is this too rough for you?”
They glided toward a rocky point. A huge fir tree towered there. Julia paused, resting her paddle. “I love this,” she said. “I wasn’t certain I’d love sleeping beneath the stars, but I do.”
Cal steered them to the rocky shoreline and Julia got out, her leather boots balancing on the uneven rock. She loved the crispness of the morning air and the pure scent of it. It was wilder than the English countryside, but it spoke to her soul.
With Cal, she unpacked the canoe. He always wanted to do most of the work, but she helped him set up the tent and lay out the sacks and blankets they used for sleeping. Cal set up a fire. That night, they sat beside the fire and watched the stars. And she saw the glorious northern lights—stunning displays of dancing green, purple and yellow.
The next day, they worked together at the edge of the rock, sketching on small canvases. Cal painted the landscape and she tried to paint him. Much to her chagrin, he took the picture from her at the end of the day and looked at it. His eyes widened. “It’s incredible. You have real talent, my beautiful muse. More talent than me.”
She laughed. “I don’t.”
“You’ve made me more handsome than I really am.”
“That is exactly how you look to me. Even here, in the wilds, I think you are the perfect Earl of Worthington.”
He kissed her. “You know, Sheba, I think it’s time to travel home. Since you’re in a delicate condition.”
She nodded. “If I get very large, I’ll probably tip the canoe.” And she laughed as Cal pulled her back into his arms.
* * *
In April, when snowdrops blossomed over the lawns of Worthington, Julia gave birth to two beautiful babies—twins! Cal was there, helping her through the birth. Dr. Campbell and a London specialist attended. She had just sent Cal home from the hospital for some sleep, Nigel and Zoe had come and left. Isobel had come, fascinated by the medical practicalities of birthing twins. Although many medical schools had closed their doors to women now that the War was behind them, there were still some places and Isobel was determined to leave that year to study.
Then Julia heard a nurse giggling outside her room, and she knew who had come. Seconds later, her charming brother Sebastian peeked around the door. “Only you would have one of each rather than having to choose. It’s more perfect this way,” he said, grinning.
She held both babies in her arms, which she felt rather nervous about doing. She asked her brother about John Ransome.
“Alas, I’ve realized I can’t change John’s mind. He won’t turn his back on his family—and their expectations—for me,” Sebastian said.
“As you said to me, he should be willing to fight for you. Perhaps if I bring you together—arrange dinner parties—”
“You will be too busy being a mother. I’m philosophical about this, Julia. Love will come for me eventually. I plan to return to Paris and paint. But I’m going to stay in England for the summer, to see my adorable nephews and niece.”
“It will be wonderful to have you here,” she said.
She sensed Cal just as he came in her room, carrying a bouquet of roses. He stopped in the doorway and just looked at her. She had never seen him look so happy. Diana had given birth to her daughter a few months before, after her marriage to David. David had even ridden a horse just before that, as Julia had vowed he would. It had been a delightful time. This was even more wonderful. “You are supposed to be resting,” she said.
“I couldn’t stay away. You look radiant, Julia. Perfect.”
“You mean they are perfect.”
“All of you are perfect,” he said softly. “There is no curse now. There can’t be. Your blend of modern compassion and old-world elegance and honor has broken the curse forever. You’ve brought happiness to Worthington. And brought the most wonderful miracles of all to me. Two beautiful babies, the perfect wife and love.”
“Amen,” Sebastian said.
Julia looked up. She saw the dowager countess in the corridor, afraid to come in. “Would you take our daughter?” Julia asked him.
He looked confused, then embarrassed, and she smiled. “Our daughter has the curls.”
As he scooped their little girl into his arms, she said, “You could introduce her to the dowager. I’ve had to think long and hard about it, but I think we should give her a second chance.”
Cal nodded. “She wrote me a letter telling me that she would never breathe a word about my mother. I admit, I haven’t answered it.” He made a beckoning motion. As the dowager Lady Worthington came in, she whispered, “I’m sorry. So very sorry. For everything.”
Julia looked to Cal. He said gently, “It’s accepted. And thank you for your decision. Now, come here and meet the future Earl of Worthington and his perfect sister.”
The dowager did, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Then her mother and grandmother came into the room. Julia saw the joy in her mother’s eyes, and she had Cal help her mother hold each baby, one at a time. “They are beautiful,” her mother cooed, her eyes bright with happy tears. “It is so miraculous. Two wonderful babies. And speaking of something miraculous, your grandmother has allowed Sir Raynard to court her more seriously.”
“Court me? Rubbish,” Grandmama declared. “But perhaps I have realized I have been blessed with everything—a home, a family, delightful grandchildren. So perhaps I could risk allowing a gentleman into my life once more.”
“I highly approve,” Julia said teasingly. And she knew she would be a Worthington Wife who had perfect happiness.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from AN AMERICAN DUCHESS by Sharon Page.
Acknowledgments
Many, many thanks to Allison Carroll, my editor for The Worthington Wife. Your enthusiasm for this story from the very beginning has inspired me and pushed me to make this book the very best it could be. From working back and forth with me on revisions when my life took a turn to brainstorming titles, you’ve been wonderful.
A huge thank-you to everyone at Harlequin and HQN. You have all put so much care and attention into this book. The lovely cover made me almost swoon with joy.
Also, thanks to my agent, Evan Marshall, for your support and for being there whenever needed.
I have to thank my family for putting up with a writer on deadline—and there
are quite a few deadlines along the way to getting a book out in the world. Their faith and support have made me feel blessed.
And of course, thank you to all who read this story. It was always my dream to write about the Roaring Twenties, and I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I have.
If you loved The Worthington Wife, then don’t miss New York Times bestselling author Sharon Page’s breakout novel, a dazzling and thoroughly modern tale of love and marriage in the Roaring Twenties.
An American Duchess
Rebellious American heiress Zoe Gifford has done almost everything to break society’s conventions—except get a divorce. Bound by her father’s will to marry before she can access the fortune she desperately needs to save her mother, Zoe strikes a deal with charming British aristocrat Sebastian Hazelton—not knowing it will change the course of her life forever.
Once in England, her foolproof plan to wed, inherit and divorce proves more complicated when Zoe meets the austere Nigel Hazelton, Duke of Langford. Still reeling from the Great War, Nigel is now staging a one-man battle against a rapidly changing world, and outspoken Zoe represents everything he’s fighting against. When circumstances compel Zoe to marry Nigel rather than his brother, an unexpected—and uncontrollable—passion turns their marriage of convenience into so much more. But can a man fixated on the past and a woman fighting for the future find love in each other’s arms?
Available now!
Get your copy today.
“Fans of Downton Abbey should reach for An American Duchess.”
—International bestselling author Pam Jenoff
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