"I can't. I need to leave if I want to catch the next stagecoach."
"But if you talk to my father then–"
"Cora, please trust me. It won't be much longer. I promise."
He grabbed his bag and walked outside to a waiting horse. She didn't follow instead she stood on the porch. As soon as his bag was tied to the rump of the animal, Frederic ran to the porch, placed both hands along Cora's face, and crushed his lips to hers, expressing all the hurt and pain he felt at leaving her. He swiped her tears with his finger and walked backward to the horse.
"I'm coming back, you'll see."
She lifted her hand and waved as he rode away. He made it to Bayou Sara with plenty of time to spare. He forced himself to walk the streets and enjoy the simple offerings.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Priscilla and he walked the other way only to be stopped by her brother.
"My sister got slapped because of you," said Thomas, his brows dipping in the middle.
Frederic fought the urge to roll his eyes as he said, "A thousand pardons for that incident, but I believe it was her fault and not mine."
"Maybe you was drunk and don't remember what you said, but my sister knows the truth and one day Cora will know it too."
Frederic ignored the threat, tipped an imaginary hat, and sauntered away. On the bench in front of the stagecoach, he watched families saunter by. He clutched his hands and thought about Cora. He'd told her the truth in the barn that night so he wasn't worried about any lies Priscilla might concoct about what he'd shared, however, he had told enough of his own. His heart hammered in his chest as the stagecoach stopped before the station. He shot one cursory look upon the town. Would he really be able to return?
The stage departed and Frederic fell into a restless sleep. Every spoken lie turned to words and drifted before him until he awoke in a sweat. After that, he stayed awake. Several stages were delayed and it took extra time to arrive at his destination. By the time he reached his apartment, he was worn to a frazzle and ready to fall over from exhaustion.
Letters littered the floor and he scattered them as he entered. One glance revealed their origin, Cora. He grabbed a stack and threw them on the table. They fell in a swirled pattern. One caught his eye. It was address to him without a return. He broke the seal, the paper crinkled as it unfolded.
To Frederic St. Martin, Thank you for the information. Due to your lead we have apprehended Arthur Wiggins, Zeke Hoskins, and several of their associates. Enough information was gathered to bring down the smuggling ring and you have been awarded a check for your service.
You may receive your reward money at…
An address was listed that Frederic didn't recognize. He folded the letter and set it aside, holding his head in his hands he tried to reason out what he'd read. None of it made sense. Had Cora mailed it to the police on his behalf? Had Josh shared the information? Indeed this was a turn of events he'd not prepared for.
****
Cora waited patiently for a letter. If she just knew he’d arrived safely in New York, then she could wait. But not even that wish was granted. With each passing day her worry mounted.
Week old newspapers filled with the country's news drifted through the house but still no word was mentioned of Frederic apprehending Arthur or any of his consorts.
Tensions in the Beaumont house grew as Millie and Stephen departed for South Carolina and Cora remained at home. Charles and Amelia, as well as her father and mother, often directed sympathetic stares her way. It was if they believed she'd been abandoned, as if they thought he'd lied to her and was never returning.
As she stood on the banks of the Mississippi River and watched the muddy waters flow south, similar thoughts plagued her. How many times had Frederic lied to her? The answer was too many and this brought fear to her heart. The possibility existed that Frederic had had no intention of returning. That she was destined as she'd always feared to live out her life in Bayou Sara married to one of the locals with nothing to show for her existence.
The sound of Amelia calling broke her reverie. She swiped the tears from her cheeks and faced her sister.
"Oh, there you are."
"Yes."
"Someone is here to see you."
No sooner had Amelia finished her words than Cora lifted her skirts and fled to the house. Her heart pumped wildly in her chest, her face flushed with excitement. He was finally here! He hadn't lied after all.
Skidding to a halt in front of the library doors, Cora saw an unfamiliar set of slender shoulders. The person turned and she drew her brows downward.
"What are you doing here?"
Thomas, Priscilla's brother, lifted one side of his lips into a grin. "Why I'm here to make a delivery."
"What? I don't understand."
Her father spoke up, "Cora come in and have a seat. Thomas here has just returned from a trip to New York City and while he was there he was kind enough to pick up some of their current newspapers."
"Is that so?" She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to sit.
"Yes. I journeyed there with Priscilla and my mother. It is a beautiful place this time of year. So many things going on in the North, why we even witnessed a hanging! Mother and Priscilla almost fainted, but I must say it was the most fascinating thing I've ever seen."
Cora moved her arms to her sides and tapped her fingers against the sides of her gown.
"I can see you're impatient for the reason I brought you the papers, well, it is nothing short of my concern for you that made me do it. You see, I know you've been waiting on that St. Martin feller to return and when I saw these articles in the paper I knew you would want to know what I'd found."
Cora didn't comment and Henri said, "Thank you for your thoughtfulness."
"Of course. I've always had a fondness for Cora and I would hate to see her hurt because a cad led her on."
Cora backed Thomas against the wall, and barred her arm across his throat. "You will take that back!"
Flustered, Henri removed her arm and pulled her away. Addressing Thomas, he said, "Forgive Cora. If your words are true, her upset feelings are understandable."
Thomas straightened his coat. "Of course." He looked her in the eye and placed his hand on her shoulder. "One day I hope you will think on me as your friend."
Cora shook him off and opened her mouth to speak but her father interrupted. "We already do, Thomas."
"Thank you, sir. I will see my way out."
The door clicked closed behind Thomas and Cora fell into a seat. Her father sighed and wiggled his finger at her, before rounding his desk and picking up the first set of papers. His changing expressions spoke volumes about what he read.
"Go ahead and tell me."
His spectacles slipped to the tip of his nose as he glanced upward. He folded the newspaper and handed it to her. "I think perhaps you should take this to your room and read it on your own."
She grabbed the papers and wadded them in her hand before running to her room. The door slammed behind her and she fell to her bed scattering the papers before her.
Article after article with Frederic's name was circled. Cora read and reread every one. On the surface the articles were derogatory. Each one depicted Frederic as returning to New York, receiving a large check, settling in a large house and retiring. There was no mention of him traveling or having a future bride in mind. In fact one article spoke of him escorting a debutante to a show.
In Cora's heart she knew something wasn't right and she dug deeper. She searched for more articles that might say something, anything more than what Thomas had deemed important. Finally, she found them.
Big changes are happening in the Irish community. Father Chance O'Malley scores big as his church and orphanage receive an enormous donation. The Magnus Fish House has been bought out and given to the workers. They now have a say in not only their jobs, but in their community as well. The apartment complex that burnt a couple of months ago has been rebuilt and giv
en to the previous tenants. As you read you have no doubt asked yourself, "Where is all this money coming from?" The answer? No one knows. All these things have come through an anonymous benefactor and if anyone has any information as to their identity they aren't talking.
Cora waded through infinite stories of do-goodery and she knew Frederic was at the heart of them.
As she turned the page she came to the obituaries. Their in bold letters read, Rhonda Tomkins. The paper was vague about her death only saying that she was killed in an accident at too young an age.
Cora grabbed her chest as her heart beat rapidly. What had happened when Frederic returned? Had he been involved in Rhonda's death? Was he paying penance for a mistake? Would he ever feel worthy enough to come back to her?
Chapter Thirty-Three
"Frederic, darling, why in heaven's name did you pick this color? It is atrocious and hardly goes with the rest of the room."
Frederic ignored the decorator and continued to stare at the empty sheet of paper. So many things ran through his mind. Cora deserved to know what had happened since his arrival in New York. She needed to know that Josh had contacted the authorities in his name that he had turned over not only himself but Rhonda, Arthur, and all the rest. She deserved to know that Rhonda had killed herself because of him.
He ran his hand through his hair. It was growing out again. He would need to have a trim soon. Random thoughts of who to contact and when distracted him yet again from his real task — Cora's letter.
"Why do you continue to stare at that desk? I told you the color clashed and needed to be changed."
The decorator spoke for several minutes before giving up and leaving the room. Frederic tried to focus but found he couldn't. He held his weary head in his hands and fought exhaustion. Every since the hero worship had ended and he’d come back to real life and the knowledge that he had to make a decision about Cora, he hadn't been able to sleep.
People worked around him. Awarded an estate and an infinite amount of money for his part in catching the opium ring leader, Frederic found himself unhappy. He'd donated money to the church and orphanage, he'd bought the fish house and given it to the workers, he'd even rebuilt Cora's old apartment building and given it to the tenants, but it wasn't enough. Everything he'd done had been to make himself feel better about his lies, his deceit, and his part in Rhonda's death.
But no matter what he did it was still there. His last hope was if he wrote a letter to Cora and told her that he never loved her, that all of it had been a ruse, that even the lies Priscilla had spoken at the party really had come from his mouth, then perhaps he would have peace. But as he stared at the blank page, he couldn't do it. He couldn't pen the biggest lie of all. He couldn't tell Cora that he didn't love her because he'd loved her since the first moment when she fainted in his arms in the warehouse. From the moment he watched her sleep in her room, from the time he'd seen her wearing his nightshirt. Truth was he loved her, but he didn't deserve her. Better to have her hate him. That was the only way to make her truly happy.
A timid knock vibrated the door.
"Come in," he said, fighting to control the tears that burned at the back of his throat.
Light footsteps entered the room and skirts swished as they settled in a chair across the desk. He kept his gaze on the empty paper as he said, "What do you want? I've told you to design the house however you see fit. I don't really care."
"Is that because you won't be living here long?"
At the sound of the familiar voice, he jerked his head upright.
The smile that tugged at Cora's lips tore at his heart. He swallowed and placed his folded hands in his lap. This was his chance to appear aloof. To act like she didn't matter, that he didn't care. He could chase her back home in just a few words. He opened his mouth to speak, but her smile widened, and she walked closer to him. She scooted his chair back and sat on his lap. She placed her mouth to his ear and blew.
He closed his eyes as her hot moist breath stroked his ear. He tried to count through the sweet torment but it was no use. He crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss lingered for several minutes, his arms wrapped around her waist and drew her closer and she moaned.
They pulled apart and she longingly gazed into his eyes. Her lips twitched at the corner as she ran her hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. "How are you?"
He couldn't speak. The love of his life was on his lap and he couldn't say a word to express himself.
"I see that while you've been donating to every cause and helping everyone that used to be in my social circle, you've neglected to take care of basic grooming." She played with his long hair and he bit the inside of his cheek. "I like it."
What was she doing to him? He struggled to reply. "Cora, I–"
She waved the words away. "There is no need to apologize. You had work to do before you could come home. I understand."
She removed herself and his body cried out at the loss of heat. Returning to her spot across from him, she played with the folds of her gown. She lifted her chin and stared at him. "I guess what I don't understand is… why you haven't written to me."
He stared at the empty paper.
"Ah, so you were trying to do that now. After three months, six days, and five hours you thought you might pen a letter." She leaned forward a slow grin tilted her lips. Was she angry? He couldn't tell.
He ran his finger around his collar. "Is it getting hot in here?"
"Not yet," she said with a wicked grin.
They sat in silence. He needed to say something, so he said, "What are you doing here?"
She arched a brow. "Is that the best you can do? You just want to know why I'm here? I thought it would be obvious. You never told me about yourself."
He blinked and shook his head. "What?"
She crossed her legs and clasped her hands on her knee. "You did promise to tell me your story, but somehow you just kept skipping out on it."
"You didn't travel here for–"
She held up her hand. "Please, don't tell me why I came. I believe I know why I do things."
This was ridiculous. She didn’t come all this way to hear his past. But as she sat across from him, he didn't care. All that matter was keeping her here a little longer. He cleared his throat. "My past was perfect. My parents were perfect. At least they were the perfect couple. They did everything together," his voice caught, "they even died together."
She gasped and placed a twittering hand to her heart.
"You wanted to know what makes me the way I am. I'm persistent because they never gave up. Even when they went through hard times they kept going." He shrugged. "The lawman thing just happened because when they passed I didn't care if I lived or died and then when I kept living I wanted to do something to make them proud of me." He snickered and scratched a place behind his ear. "Although Ma wouldn't be proud of all the lies I've told." He paused and stared at the empty pages of Cora's letter. "She always told me that I would have to make a choice." He looked up and she swallowed.
"I-I don't want to ask what your choice is until I tell you the real reason I'm here."
He leaned back in his seat, fighting a grin. "Oh, there is another reason."
Her lip twitched at the corners. "Yes, there is the slight chance I might be here because I want to know why you haven't come back to get me. I mean if you really want to stay in New York City, I'm not opposed to living here. Although we will have to return to Bayou Sara to be married because I don't want everyone coming here…" She rambled on for several minutes then stopped. "I see."
She didn't care to live in New York? What was going on? That wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't good enough for her. They couldn't be together. He was supposed to push her away so she could have someone better. That was the choice he was supposed to make, right? "What?"
"I see what this is about. You're not writing that letter to tell me when you were coming to get me. You were writing it to give me the old heave ho. The, 'I can't be with
you because I've done something horrible', routine." Her smile broadened and she stood and leaned over the table. Her dress was lower than normal and he found himself staring. "Please don't tell me, you were going to try and lie to me about how you feel in hopes of running me off again. Don't you remember we already tried that and it didn't work?"
He swallowed. He should look away or throw a shawl over her or something. Where were his gentlemanly manners?
She straightened, sat on the corner of the desk, crossed her legs, folded her hands in her lap, and glared at him. "I want the truth. Do you love me?"
"Yes," he said in a hoarse, breathless whisper as he struggled to catch his breath after admitting the truth.
"Do you want me to leave you and never come back?"
He closed his eyes when he opened them she was still there. Thank the good Lord. "No."
She returned to the chair and leaned back, a satisfied look on her face. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"But you don't know–"
"And I don't care. All I want is to know when and where we're having this wedding. If I don't get out of the house I'm going to strangle Amelia. All her sad puppy dog faces over my being alone is driving me crazy!"
They shared a laugh. Frederic opened his arms and his heart hammered in his chest as she rose from her seat and willingly ran into them.
Epilogue
"Amelia, would you hurry up? I'm sure I look fine."
Amelia had been standing over her for hours applying the final touches to her hair. Cora would have been happy to walk down the aisle in a burlap sack if it would have been quicker.
"Don't rush me. Beauty takes time."
"Not with Cora, she is always beautiful," said Frederic from the hallway.
Amelia gasped. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to see the bride until the wedding. Oh, this is a disaster." Focusing her attention on Cora, she said, "Why did you have to set your sights on marrying such a rogue?" and she ran out of the room.
Cora (Southern Hearts Book 3) Page 18
