by Sherry Lewis
Nathan Fullmer waved a hand as if the project were of no import. His thin lips puckered and his deep-set eyes gleamed. “Perhaps not. My main concern at the moment is catching the eye of that waiter so he can bring me another brandy. Of course even this brandy can’t compare to the one you served at your last dinner party, Zacharias. Will you have more on hand?”
Gregory McDonald turned a hungry smile in his direction. “If you ever decide to rid yourself of one of those houses, old man, you know where to come. Just be sure you include the contents of the wine cellar in your asking price.”
“I have no plans to sell either house,” Zacharias assured him as he had at least a dozen times in the past, “or to part with the contents of my wine cellar.” He slung back the rest of his own drink and cast about for an excuse to escape.
Just when he thought he was stuck in a dismal discussion that could have taken place around his own dining table, he heard a familiar laugh and his spirits climbed. He followed the sound and caught a glimpse of his boyhood friend, Philip Clayton, engaged in conversation with several men on the opposite side of the room.
Offering his apologies, he motioned for a second brandy and made his way toward Philip. But even then, he had to stop occasionally to answer a greeting or an inquiry about his mother’s health.
At long last, he drew abreast of his friend. Philip, as dark as Zacharias was fair, as husky as Zacharias was lean, had been his closest friend since childhood even though Victoria had never approved of the bond between the boys. She hadn’t approved of his father’s friendship with Isaiah Clayton, either. Isaiah Clayton had toiled for his fortune, and his wife, Eleanor, had come from Savannah, which had always made her suspect in Victoria’s uncompromising Yankee eyes.
But even her stern disapproval hadn’t stopped the boys from becoming fast friends, nor the men from continuing their association. Philip knew more about Zacharias than any other living soul, and of course the reverse held true as well. But even Philip didn’t know everything.
Smiling broadly, Zacharias waited for a break in the conversation, then clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “Fancy meeting you here in the middle of the day. Won’t the saw mill suffer without you there to oversee it?”
“Undoubtedly,” Philip said with a laugh. “But it was too fine a day to stay cooped up with logs and invoices and bills of lading.”
“So instead, you coop yourself up with brandy and cigars.” Zacharias accepted his glass from a black-coated waiter and sipped eagerly. “The workings of your mind remain a mystery to me, my friend.”
“No more than yours are a mystery to me.” Philip nodded toward his companions and stepped away for a private word. “What brings you here?”
Zacharias waited until they’d put some distance between them and the nearest set of ears. “Same as you. The need to escape.”
Philip laughed again. “And speaking of escape. . . How is dear Victoria?”
“As ever.” Zacharias felt some of his tension slipping away, but, then, Philip’s company always had that effect on him. “I seem to have given her new cause for alarm.”
“Really?” Philip’s eyebrows winged upward, two dark caterpillars on his broad face. “What have you done now, served the wrong port to guests? Chosen the wrong cravat?”
“Worse. Much worse.” Zacharias downed his brandy, welcoming the burn as it traced a path through him. “I’ve been in contact with Agatha.”
Philip rocked back on his heels and stared at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all.”
“Why would you want to put yourself through that torture again?”
Zacharias sometimes thought his friend was angrier with her than he was, himself. But of course, without all the facts at his disposal, he would be. “She seems to have undergone a complete change of personality.”
Philip studied him for a moment, no doubt searching for a hidden smile or flash of mischief in his eyes. “It’s a trick.”
“I thought so at first,” Zacharias admitted. “But it seems she’s suffered a loss of memory. She remembers nothing about the events that led to our estrangement.”
Philip smoothed his fingers over his moustache. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you certain?”
The memory of her lips beneath his returned to haunt him. The look in her eyes and the soft sound of her voice wound their way through him. “I’m certain.”
Philip shook his head emphatically. “It’s a trick, Zacharias. She wants something from you. Don’t be fooled by it.”
Until that moment, Zacharias hadn’t realized that he’d hoped Philip might encourage him. But the strong shaft of disappointment that accompanied Philip’s warning made him take stock of himself and acknowledge the truth.
In spite of everything, he wanted very much to believe her.
Maybe it was foolish. Dangerous. Even down-right irrational. But that didn’t change the way he felt, it didn’t dampen his hopes or douse his enthusiasm. It didn’t make the memory of her kiss distasteful or convince him to keep a safe distance from her. He was intrigued by the changes in her and he wanted very much to explore the differences.
God help him.
He signaled for another brandy and argued his case. “She has asked me to resume our marriage.”
Philip’s eyebrows hitched a bit higher. “All of it?”
The question brought on a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the brandy. “All of it.”
“You said no, of course.”
“Of course.” Zacharias led Philip toward two chairs far enough removed from the others to give them some privacy. “But she’s behaving so differently, I wish you could see for yourself.”
“We both know that’s not likely to happen. Even before she became a recluse, she didn’t like me.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Zacharias said with a wry grin. “She didn’t like me, either.”
“True enough.” Philip pulled a cigar from his pocket, snipped the tip, and lowered it again without lighting it. “Then, why does she want to resume the marriage?”
“I suppose it’s because she can’t remember why she didn’t like me.”
“And you didn’t remind her.”
“Of course I didn’t. She’ll remember soon enough. In the meantime—”
Philip’s brows knit. “You’re not considering it.”
“Absolutely not.” Zacharias sipped carefully, hoping he looked and sounded convincing.
Some of the tension left Philip’s shoulders. “What does our dear Victoria have to say about this latest turn of events?”
The question dropped a cloud over Zacharias’s mood. “She’s not happy, I can tell you that. She still insists that I divorce Agatha at last and marry Patricia.”
Philip turned his cigar slowly between his fingers. “But you’re not going to, are you?”
“I have no desire to marry Patricia,” Zacharias reminded him. “I have no desire to marry anyone. Remaining legally bound to Agatha is convenient. It prevents my mother from pushing matrimony at me too enthusiastically.”
“The woman made your life a living hell,” Philip said, lowering his voice. “Why are you even considering reconciling with her?”
“I’m not,” Zacharias said tersely. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m telling you all the reasons I won’t let myself get caught in that trap again.”
Philip let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay, if you say so. Personally, I hope never to see you that miserable again.”
“And I hope never to be that miserable again.” Zacharias scowled at the memories of the life he’d shared with Agatha, the things she’d said, and of the hatred he’d seen in her eyes before they separated.
Philip lit his cigar and smoked thoughtfully for a moment or two. “Does Patricia know?”
“No doubt my mother has told her.”
“But you haven’t?”
“I’ve seen no need to tell her.”
Philip lowered his cigar a
gain and leaned closer. “The woman is obviously in love with you.”
Zacharias sent him a thin smile. “Perhaps she is. But my heart doesn’t belong to any woman, nor is it likely to any time soon.”
“You could do a sight worse than to have Patricia on your arm and running your household.”
Zacharias sent him a sidelong glance. “What are you doing, playing devil’s advocate? As I recall, you’ve never been overly fond of Patricia, either.”
Philip chuckled softly. “Only because she’s not the right woman for you, no matter what your mother thinks.”
Zacharias set his brandy aside. “No,” he said thoughtfully, “she’s not. I’ve always thought I might enjoy the companionship of a woman who could, occasionally, discuss something relevant.”
“Then divorce Agatha quickly but for hell’s sake, don’t marry Patricia. Save your serious talk for your fellows and leave women to what they do best.”
“What they do best,” Zacharias muttered, “is to make my life miserable.” He let his gaze trail slowly over the room. “I envy you, Philip. At least you have something to escape to.”
Philip waved his words away. “So you say. But your father cared enough to leave you financially secure, so why do you complain?”
“Yours left you with an occupation,” Zacharias countered. “That to me would have been a far greater gift.”
Philip studied him with eyes narrowed in doubt. “You’d trade your life for mine?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Philip shifted his weight in his chair, paid attention to his cigar for a moment then ran his fingers over his moustache once more. “I wouldn’t have brought this up, but as luck would have it I’m somewhat in need of a cash infusion at the moment. The expansion we undertook last year has left me short on the books.”
Zacharias didn’t like the sound of that. He’d always thought Philip financially secure. “Is there cause for alarm?”
“No,” Philip assured him quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly. “But I’ve been thinking for the past month of finding an investor . . . or a partner.” He smiled weakly. “If I must, I’d rather have you in that position than anyone else.”
Zacharias didn’t know whether to worry or take offense. That depended on whether Philip really needed an investor or had extended the offer out of pity. “Don’t toy with me,” he warned. “I’m in no mood—”
“Who’s toying?” Philip sloshed his brandy. “If you’re serious about wanting an occupation, I can offer you one. If not you, I’ll have to take on someone else. And, as I said, I’d rather see your face every day than any other.” He sobered before he went on. “Trust is a valuable commodity, my friend, and at the moment I’m in as great a need of trust as I am of money.” He held up a hand to keep Zacharias from responding. “Don’t worry. Your investment would be perfectly safe.”
Zacharias nodded slowly, running the pros and cons through his mind rapidly. “How involved in the day-to-day business would I be?”
“As involved as you want to be.”
“I wouldn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”
“Neither would I,” Philip agreed. “But I trust that of we did have a disagreement, we could resolve it as quickly as we used to settle our boyhood skirmishes.”
“But not in the same manner, I hope,” Zacharias said with a laugh.
“Bloody noses?” Philip’s laughter joined his. “I would hope not—for your sake. I’m quite sure I could still best you.”
“You have a faulty memory,” Zacharias said with a laugh. “You never bested me.” His smile faded slowly. “It’s a tempting proposition, I’ll say that.”
“On both sides.” Philip’s manner became even more serious and the concern in his eyes tipped the scales. “To tell you the truth, I’m at a loss to explain how I find myself in this position. I thought finances were secure, but the books indicate that the mill is creeping closer to the red every month.”
Even if Zacharias hadn’t been close to desperation for something to occupy his time, he would have considered the partnership for Philip’s sake.
Philip’s moment of seriousness evaporated. “If you accept, your mother will want to have me shot. You realize that.”
“And me along with you,” Zacharias agreed.
“Good thing the old gal doesn’t frighten me, isn’t it? What will Patricia think of this?”
“I don’t care.”
“And Agatha?”
Zacharias downed the last of his brandy and shoved his glass away. “I know exactly how she’ll react. When it comes to what’s expected of a gentleman, she’s even less forgiving than my mother.” He extended a hand to Philip. “You’ve got yourself a partner. Shall we take care of the details on Monday? I can ask Arthur Williams to draw up the paperwork—if that’s agreeable to you.”
Philip held back for a moment. “Don’t you want to think about it?”
“I have thought,” Zacharias assured him. “You have no idea how much I long for something substantial to occupy my time.”
He just hoped it would work. If he didn’t do something to take his mind off Agatha, he just might make the biggest mistake of his life.
Victoria didn’t give any indication of her distress as she rode through the streets of Hannibal. She’d long ago learned how to behave like a lady under any circumstances, and she’d been taught from earliest childhood that there was nothing more important than maintaining the proper appearance, regardless of the circumstances that may cross one’s path.
But inside. . .
Inside, Victoria was tied in knots. For the past four days, Zacharias had been behaving abominably. First, the strange turn of events with Agatha, then his decision to go into business with Philip. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear.
She blamed Zacharias’s father for this horrible turn of events. She’d always been a willing and pliable woman, bowing first to her father’s will, then to Hugh’s, though with Hugh, she’d had to exert an ever-so-mild influence from time to time to counteract his utter disregard for decorum.
It was Hugh’s insistence that Zacharias be allowed to marry That Woman—in spite of Victoria’s objections—that had brought them to the brink of disaster now. And perhaps a small share of blame lay at her own feet. She’d always been the most agreeable of persons, too agreeable, perhaps. Too pliant. If she hadn’t bowed to Hugh’s will, they wouldn’t have been brought to this.
Agatha—Victoria could hardly bear to think of That Woman by name—had come from the most unfortunate of circumstances. She’d been born to a wholly inappropriate mother who’d obviously neglected her training. Though it pained Victoria to admit it, Zacharias was too much his father’s son to recognize how inappropriate the marriage was. She had hoped that Agatha’s unsuitable behavior over the Unfortunate Incident would bring Zacharias to his senses. And for a time, it seemed that it had.
But Zacharias had ever been too soft-hearted, and his reaction to Agatha’s odd behavior over the previous four days only bore that out. Though he was thirty years old, he still needed his mother’s gentle guidance to keep him on the right path—a path that did not include Agatha Carruthers.
When her carriage drew up in front of Avondale, Victoria alit and swept up the front stairs. Within minutes, she was seated in the sunny drawing room with Patricia. She let her gaze linger on the Chinese Export pieces on the mantle, the exquisite heirloom mirror over the fireplace, and the muted floral fabric covering the chairs with satisfaction. Though her own tastes ran to more substantial furniture and stately colors, the care Patricia lavished on her family pieces gave her great comfort. This was a woman she could trust with the Logan heirlooms when she could no longer care for them herself.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Victoria said when the maid finished serving tea and left them alone. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“Of course, Victoria.” Patricia settled her cup and saucer on her knee. “What is it?”
�
�Zacharias.” Victoria didn’t miss the slight softening of Patricia’s expression. What mother could resist a woman who so obviously loved her son? She set aside her cup and folded her hands in her lap. “Or perhaps, I should say the trouble is That Woman.”
“Agatha?” The softness disappeared immediately and the name hung between them like a storm cloud.
Victoria inclined her head a fraction of an inch. “I thought you might like to know that she paid a visit on Zacharias yesterday.”
“A visit?” Patricia’s face revealed nothing—she was too well-bred for that—but her eyes said everything. “She left Summervale?”
“Indeed.”
“Did he receive her?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I see.” Patricia stood quickly, her agitation obvious in every movement.
Victoria indulged in a private smile. Patricia was everything she’d ever hoped for in a daughter, and Victoria knew that in Patricia she had an ally. “I have long known that you have a . . . shall I say, a particular fondness for Zacharias.”
“I am fond of him.” Patricia smiled softly. “But, of course, circumstances being what they are . . . ”
Victoria waved her words away. “I am not interested in circumstances. I have allowed my family to be victim to them for entirely too long. I intend to manage the circumstances in which we presently find ourselves.” Victoria smoothed the folds of her skirt and allowed herself a sip of Patricia’s excellent tea before she went on. “It seems that Agatha wishes to resume her relationship with Zacharias.”
Color flooded Patricia’s face and a cloud darted across her eyes. “How does Zacharias feel about that?”
“Feelings are highly over-rated, Patricia. Zacharias’s emotions have put us in this unfortunate situation to begin with. I shall not allow him to compound his mistake by resuming his relationship with That Woman.”
“I see.”
Victoria smiled slowly at the almost indiscernible gleam of approval in Patricia’s eyes. “It would, of course, be best for everyone concerned if Zacharias were to obtain a divorce.”
“But he will not.” Patricia sighed softly and let her gaze travel to a particularly beautiful vase on the mantel. “He has made his intentions clear on that score.”
