Angels, Sinners and Madmen

by Cate Masters

  His brow furrowed. “You’re angry because I was schooled to be an attorney?”

  “You told me you were a thief in Philadelphia.”

  A twinkle lit his eyes. “I said I was little better than a thief, so I spoke only the truth.”

  “Yes, I should have guessed by your love of argument, I suppose, what you truly meant.” Her insides churned, twisting in on themselves. She had no idea what to believe.

  “I didn’t tell you about my past because I chose to leave it behind.”

  Was he trying to make himself seem a kindred spirit to her? “Why? If you’re so intent on revealing yourself, tell me everything.”

  “All right.”

  His soft voice twisted her anger into desire. Walking toward her, heat filled his gaze. “I never wanted to be a lawyer. I went to school because my father wished it. I joined my brother’s law firm. A very successful firm. So profitable, the woman who ensnared my affections endeavored to become my wife.”

  He had a wife? His revelation singed her gut, and left her too weak to breathe. This was too much in one evening. Livvie turned away.

  He grasped her arms so she had to face him.

  “No. You asked, and now you will listen. To all of it.” His grip tightened, and his tone hardened. “I was engaged to a woman. Helen. I bought her anything and everything she wanted. And she wanted a lot.” Bitterness tainted his laugh. “I was such a lovesick fool I set aside my suspicions while she spent time in the company of other men. What man wouldn’t want to court her? She was beautiful, born to a well-connected family, an asset to any man.”

  An asset. How typical. Yet supremely disappointing, coming from Sam.

  “And?” she prompted. “What happened?”

  His depth of emotion conveyed the answer.

  His gaze drifted. “A week before our wedding, I found her in the company of someone else.” The wound she’d inflicted appeared to reopen, if Sam’s pained expression were any indication. He released her.

  “How awful.”

  His idle gaze grew more focused as if coming out of a trance. “I couldn’t stand the thought of having to attend the same social gatherings as Helen and John.”

  “So you left it all behind.” She couldn’t blame him. She’d escaped an awful marriage herself, though it hadn’t damaged her heart in the least.

  “I’d read of Key West and been intrigued. Going there was the best thing I could have done. I should have done it years earlier, instead of wasting my time at Harvard.”

  Her lifelong frustrations bubbled forth. “Only a man would say such a thing. If only I could have gone to school.” Although her father had been sympathetic to her desire, he’d gently denied her again and again. Yes, it would benefit her writing, but it held no guarantee of success like other occupations.

  “I’m sorry. I understand.”

  “How can you possibly know what I feel?” She fought back tears.

  “Oh, yes I do, Livvie. I know exactly what you feel.” He moved behind her.

  She tensed, expecting his touch. The fine hairs along the back of her neck prickled with his warm breath when he spoke, he stood so tantalizingly close. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself.

  “You feel trapped living with your brother and his wife, who expect you to marry into society. A life you don’t want. You long for freedom, to do as you please.”

  She glanced back, yet didn’t turn to face him. She walked beneath the balcony, out of view of the prying eyes surely watching from above.

  He followed, and moved closer this time, his whisper like a silk ribbon reaching within her, twining itself around her heart. “You think of me as often as I think of you. Throughout the day and night. You dream of me, and awake in a sweat, aching for my embrace. I know because I feel the same ache for you. An unrelenting yearning.”

  Her breath quickened, and she searched for something indefinable. She couldn’t think straight. She needed more air. She stepped away. He gripped her arms, and she gasped.

  “You are afraid of what you feel for me. Afraid I will have nothing to offer you.”

  “No, it’s not true.” She wanted nothing from him, nothing but himself. But if she couldn’t have all of him, she wanted none of him.

  “It is. I’m here, Livvie.” He turned her toward him. “I will do whatever is necessary to win you. If you want me to stay in New Orleans and join your brother’s law firm so you can live in a pretty house, I will. It would be worth it to come home to you every day. To be able to hold you all night. I would endure silly gatherings of mindless men and prattling women if it meant you were mine.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought. Had Wendell lured him though she could not? “No. You don’t want that life.” She’d never wanted that life, either. Its pretenses and falsities sickened her.

  His fingers drifted along her arm. “Yes, Livvie. I see myself through your eyes and glimpse the man I could be. You make me want to be that man.”

  She laid her hands against his chest, wanting desperately to know if he really was that man, or the mere illusion of him. “It’s no use. I don’t want such a life.” She’d left New York to escape it, and would not succumb to it here. She could not let him sacrifice his freedom, either, whatever the reason.

  “It would be a good life if we were together.”

  God, what was he saying? How could he suggest they live a life he’d gratefully escaped? She pulled away, and he tightened his embrace.

  “What do you want, Livvie? Tell me. I will do anything in my power to give it to you.”

  His urgent tone arrested her. She searched his face.

  “I will not be trapped into asking for your freedom. And if you gave it to me, however willingly, you would hate me later for accepting it.”

  “What about your freedom? Isn’t that a fair exchange? Yours for mine?”

  Unshed tears burned her eyes. She had to ask him about the letter. If Wendell had told Sam about it, asked him to keep it a secret, she would be able to tell by his reaction. The sole reason she feared to ask.

  “Livvie, I know your soul yearns for freedom as much as my own.”

  She steadied her hands against his chest and pinned him with her gaze. “Did you know about the letter?”

  “The letter? The one you spoke to your sister-in-law about earlier?”

  Oh God. “You knew, then.”

  “I saw you with her. Is it significant? I don’t understand.”

  Significant? She wanted to laugh. And cry.

  His soft voice plied her so deeply, and he looked at her with such yearning. Marianne’s words came back: Men will say anything, act desperate to love you and you alone, but don’t doubt that he says the same thing to every woman he sees. Did anyone in this house speak the truth? Her emotions roiling, tears burst forth and she covered her face.

  When he encircled his arms around her, she twisted away from his embrace, and ran into the house. Once in her room, she slammed the door and locked it.

  Tomorrow, she would leave this place. First, she would write Mr. Randall to inform him her address would change, and not to trust her brother with any news.

  * * * *

  Sam’s heart deadened in his chest. He leaned against the wall and heaved a long sigh.

  So that was her answer. An offer of his freedom in exchange for hers wasn’t good enough.

  He went inside. The dining room lay in darkness, as did the hallway. A lantern burned in the parlor, but its silence amplified its emptiness. Spying some paper on a desk, he sat and wrote quickly. From his pocket, he removed several items and wrapped them inside another page. Using a ribbon he found inside the drawer, he tied it. After scrawling Livvie’s name on the outside, he left it on the desk, went to the front door and slowly pulled it open, hopes mounting that Livvie would come back to stop him.

  “Mr. Langhorne?” a woman said.

  His heart leaped and he swiveled around.

  Marianne stood on the staircase. “Is everything all right?”r />
  He strained to keep his voice steady. “I’m afraid my business here is concluded, Mrs. Collins.” He ducked his head. “Thank you for your hospitality during my stay.”

  Concern etched her features, and she descended. “You’re not leaving, are you? You’ve only just arrived.”

  “I’ll be returning to Florida as soon as I can arrange passage.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear it. I’m sure Olivia will be too.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “No, I’m afraid she’ll greet the announcement joyously. I would ask a final favor of you. Please deliver the package on the desk to Livvie for me?”

  She reached for his arm. “Of course. But—”

  He pulled away. “I must say goodnight. And farewell.” He bowed.

  She curtsied. “Goodnight, Mr. Langhorne.”

  He strode through the courtyard, the burden of his despair a leaden weight that would not allow him to glance up to the balcony. He knew Livvie would not be there.

  * * * *

  Livvie lay in her bed. Tears flowed until her eyes burned and her stomach ached.

  When he’d taken her in his arms tonight, she’d felt as though she were drowning all over again, this time in deceit and indecision. She’d wanted nothing more than for Sam to fill her arms, to open herself to him as she’d done that night in his cabin. The roar of her passion mixed with her confusion and allowed no rational thought. Since her father’s death, she’d blocked so much from her mind and railed against the unfairness of her gender.

  Damn her brother for concealing the letter, and damn Sam for aiding in the deception. Why should she be controlled by a man, any man? How dare either of them attempt to rob her of the only dream she’d ever had?

  Why had Sam revealed he’d chosen a dog? That part of the conversation made no sense. And that he’d bought a farm.

  Such an idyllic life had haunted her dreams since she’d sailed away from the island. The constraints of society were a distant thing in Key West, something the Key West Enquirer might report on, yet seldom followed by the islanders. While the wreckers might live reckless lives, they were honorable nonetheless. Unlike New Orleans, where people were murdered in public without protest, and thieves stole into houses and pilfered valuables, Key West residents left their doors unlocked from morning until night with little consequence. Although some islanders might behave rashly, even harshly toward one another, every man there would lay down his life for another.

  Farm life meant hard work, but if her novels sold well enough, she could afford to hire help for both Sam and herself.

  She walked to the balcony. The crescent moon hung low over the house. It looked so close, Livvie might have reached up and grabbed it and climbed aboard to sail off into the night.

  He’d spoken tonight about her desires as though he’d looked inside her mind to see her thoughts. He was right about everything, including her yearning for him. At times, when she thought of him, the images appeared so vividly in her mind, she could almost feel his presence. No matter the distance between them, he was always near, as warming as the sun.

  Yes, even now, she would forgive him for straying with Millie if he swore he’d never see the woman again, and if he swore he held no allegiance to her brother.

  Foolish thoughts. Useless, now.

  Her dreams would come true, but without Sam.

  * * * *

  The sound of little girls’ laughter greeted Livvie as she awoke. Sunshine poured through her window like a ray of hope. She arose and stretched in its warmth.

  Her novels would be published! Two of them! She could barely contain her excitement.

  Or her fury. She hoped Wendell had already departed. If not, she would simply inform him she was moving out. Today.

  A new life awaited. She could not stay rooted in a past that no longer existed, fearful of her future. Sam’s encouragement for her to live life as she deigned fit exhilarated her beyond measure. She would follow his advice, though it hurt to think of a future without him.

  She dressed hurriedly and flew down the stairs. Amelia and Claire sat at the dining room table between the nanny.

  “Auntie Livia!” they cried.

  “Good morning, my sweeties.” Livvie kissed the tops of their silken heads. How she loved their exuberant smiles and unbridled joy.

  “Join us, please?” Amelia kicked her feet in anticipation.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t this morning. I have urgent business to attend to.”

  Marianne strolled in. “What business?”

  Livvie’s cheeks warmed in a blush. “I must seek an attorney.”

  Marianne set a glass of juice before each of her daughters. “If you’re referring to Mr. Langhorne, I’m afraid he thinks your business is already concluded.”

  Livvie’s senses snapped to attention. “You spoke to him? What did he say?”

  “He’s arranging the earliest possible passage back to Florida. He might have already departed.” Her sister-in-law’s sorrow–and accusation–showed plainly in her face before she turned away. “He did leave this for you.” Marianne handed her a crudely wrapped package.

  Livvie ripped it open. Out fell her mother’s pearl and sapphire necklace, and a sapphire ring. She unfolded his handwritten note–and her pages.

  Dearest Livvie,

  I should have returned this necklace to you upon my arrival. I had to bribe Pinder for it. From your description, I knew it to be your mother’s.

  I hoped you would accept the ring and wear it as my bride. Not as a means to ensnare you, but as a small token of my immeasurable love. Now that I know you will never accept me as a husband, I give the ring to you freely. Use it to sustain you until you make your fortune through your writing career. For I know you will, dearest. Reading your pages thrilled me as no other to believe you might have been thinking of me when you put pen to paper and described your deepest longing. Foolish of me, I know. Your brilliance shines through on the page, and readers will fall in love with you. Not nearly to the depths I have.

  I shall never forget you, Livvie. You’ve wrecked me for any other woman. I intend to return to mainland Florida, and live out my days on a farm alone. Except, of course, for my dog.

  Try to remember me with some fondness.

  Sam

  “No.” Livvie pierced Marianne with her glare. “Tell me now. Did Sam know about the letter?”

  “Mr. Randall’s letter? Of course not.”

  He didn’t know! “Only you and Wendell knew?”

  Marianne met her gaze evenly. “Wendell wanted to protect you. He wants you to have a good, secure life.”

  “Tell me, Marianne. Did Sam know anything at all about this? That Mr. Randall offered to publish my novels?”

  “Mr. Langhorne sought out Wendell. Now we know why, of course—to find you.”

  Her thoughts raced. She must find him. Talk to him. It couldn’t be too late.

  After carefully folding the letter, she fitted the ring to her finger. Loose enough to twist off, if she weren’t careful. She intended never to lose it–or Sam. She fastened the necklace around her neck and then bolted for the door. “I’m borrowing the buggy.”

  “You cannot be thinking of following him.”

  She paused only long enough to say, “I can. And I am.” What had happened to the vibrant girl who married her brother?

  She rushed to the stables and enlisted the aid of a stable boy in readying the buggy. His slow movements agonized her. “Please hurry. It’s very important.”

  He increased his pace only slightly. Livvie rushed inside the stable, threw open the stall door and led the horse to the front of the buggy. She clucked her tongue and backed him up, speaking soothingly while the stable boy connected horse to wagon. Once he’d finally finished, she thanked him and climbed in.

  After she slapped the reins against the horse’s back, the buggy lurched forward. She negotiated the streets leading to the Arcade Hotel and steered the buggy to its entrance. A valet held the reins while
she ran inside.

  The man at the desk looked up in alarm as she rushed toward him.

  “Is Mr. Sam Langhorne here? What room is he in? Can you get him for me?”

  The man ran his finger down the ledger. “Mr. Langhorne’s no longer a guest at this establishment.”

  Her veins chilled. “No. When did he leave?”

  “An hour ago.”

  She clutched the counter. “Where did he go? Did he tell you?”

  His stare questioning, the clerk drew away. “No, miss.”

  She rushed outside to the buggy. The wharf—he had to be headed there.

  She thanked the valet and climbed back inside. The reins struck the horse’s flank. It threw its head and jerked ahead. The wheels rattled along.

  The bustle at the wharves lent more confusion to Livvie’s plight. Leaving the horse tied to a hitch, she spied into every boat she passed, whether big or small. A large paddleboat steamed away. She ran to the end of the pier, shielding her gaze against the blazing sun.

  Passengers crowded the boat’s upper and lower areas. One man caught her eye. He leaned against the end of the lower deck, gazing out over the water.

  Her heart jumped against her ribs. “Sam?” she called. “Sam!”

  His head turned. “Livvie?” came his distant call.

  Laughter bubbled through her throat. “You can’t leave! Come back, I need to speak to you!”

  He leaned over the rail. “What? I can’t stop the boat.”

  She held the wharf post, straining toward the boat. The growing distance between them brought back harsh memories of Key West, when she’d stood on the bow of the ship to watch him fade into the distance. “How many times must this happen to me?” This couldn’t be the cruel end.

  Clenching her teeth, she vowed, “I won’t let it be.”

  She scanned the river, and then the dock. A rowboat floated nearby that might bring her to the paddleboat. With surprising efficiency, she untied it from the dock, stepped inside and took up the oars. Although she rowed hard, she couldn’t make much headway.