Charles poured a third shot and quickly downed that one too. The shot warmed his stomach and made him feel just a little dizzy, but he dismissed the feeling and poured yet another. Then he toyed with the glass trying to decide if he wanted to hear more. Alexandra lied, but so did Sinclair. “He must still love her,” Charles mumbled, slurring his words slightly.
Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. “Mother must never know about this!” He grabbed the glass, tossed the fourth shot down his throat and then hiccupped.
*
The next morning, Charles woke up wearing the same clothes he had on the night before. He guessed he somehow managed to collapse on his bed, but he had no recollection of it. He put one foot on the floor, then the other, sat up and abruptly grabbed hold of his pounding head.
It was then he remembered, which made his head hurt even worse. Feeling the full sober force of Alexandra’s betrayal, he slowly lay back across his bed and moaned. His thoughts were fuzzy, his heart was broken and it took nearly an hour…but at length he got up.
*
As much as he hated to leave his wife alone to tend the prisoners, Attwater saddled his horse the next morning and went to Charles Whitfield’s hotel. He arrived just in time to see Charles board a rented carriage, followed, and soon it was clear Charles was going to see Sinclair. Once they arrived and while Charles knocked on Sinclair’s door, Attwater tied his horse to a tree and snuck across the yard to listen through an open window.
“Dead?” Charles asked. He was seated across from Mrs. Sinclair in the parlor just as Lord Bayington had been just a few days before.
“What did you want with him, Mr. Whitfield?”
“Well…I…ah.”
“Out with it, I doubt you could shock me,” Mrs. Sinclair demanded.
“I am trying to find my wife.”
“What has that to do with my dearly departed husband?”
“Her name is Alexandra, and…” He stopped in midsentence. Mrs. Sinclair’s glare was as hot as any Charles had ever seen.
She slowly and with marked determination stood up, forcing Charles to stand as well. “Till the day I die, I never want to hear that name again!”
“What?” Charles stammered.
She moved a step closer and raised a clenched fist. “That name was the last Mr. Sinclair uttered right before he died…not my name, but hers, do you understand?” She closed the distance between them, opened her fist and started jabbing her finger into Charles’s chest. “Every word he said about her was a lie and I believed him. Alexandra didn’t steal the Sinclair family jewels, he gave them to her and then lied to me about it. Why not give them to her; she was his wife, after all. He lied about that too!”
Wide eyed, Charles inched sideways until he could move out from in front of the chair and back toward the door. Even that didn’t keep Mrs. Sinclair from jamming her finger in his chest. “Can you believe it? She sent her ball gowns to him.”
Charles finally grabbed her finger and made her stop poking him. “Ball gowns?”
She realized what she was doing and wiggled her hand free. “They came just yesterday, all the way from San Francisco, wherever that is.”
“Then she intends to come back?”
Mrs. Sinclair walked around Charles, opened her front door, came back and then began to shove him out. “If she does, she’ll find her precious ball gowns made into dresses for me and my Beth.” As soon as he was outside, she grabbed a broom left by the doorstep and lifted it as if to strike him. “Be gone with you and don’t come back. And if you find Alexandra, tell her I aim to kill her!”
Charles made a run for his carriage, barely had the door open and dashed inside when he shouted for the driver to go. He got in, yanked the door closed, stuck his head out the window and looked back. To his amazement, Mrs. Sinclair was about to take her broom to Mr. Attwater.
*
Charles Whitfield had been in Liverpool for three days, with nothing else to do but sip coffee in a café and watch the passenger ships come and go. He had a ticket on the RMS Oceanic, which was scheduled to leave the next day, but he didn’t really want to go home.
What was he to tell his parents? He could say he couldn’t find Alexandra, but he had not been in England long enough for a thorough search. They would know, or at least suspect, he had learned something…something he didn’t want to confess. They would be right, of course. Alexandra was the worst mistake of his life. All those months of missing her, believing she loved him and being worried sick about her had been a total waste. He knew that now.
On the other hand, what was there to do if he did not go home? It took him a while to figure it out, but there was one thing he could do – he could be there when Alexandra showed up to claim her ball gowns. He could find some employment, perhaps in one of the nearby mills and just wait. She would come back someday, of that, he was certain, and he fully intended to be there when she did.
Charles picked up his hat and his traveling case, left the café, walked to the ticket office and cashed in his ticket. Then he hailed a carriage and headed for the town nearest Sinclair’s country manor.
CHAPTER 7
Jedediah Tanner proudly walked around Smith Lake in Denver’s Washington Park, with the beautiful Caroline Griffith on his arm. He was smartly dressed in charcoal trousers, a white shirt and a gray vest. Red silk sleeve garters, worn just above the elbow, added a touch of color and his dome crown bowler hat fit perfectly.
It was to this park he often came between robberies, when he wanted a peaceful place to think and make his plans. The park included Russian Willow trees, which were his favorite, and several carriageways meandered between two lakes, a meadow edged by a grove and a lily pond.
Yet, after an hour or so, when Caroline once more managed to be noticed by every other man in the park, he wondered just how wise it was to draw so much attention to himself. Always before, he could simply blend in with the hundreds of gold miners who came to Denver and not be noticed. On the other hand, he doubted any of them bothered to look closely at him, except perhaps with envy. He couldn’t really blame the men for gawking, she was every man’s dream and he wanted her – even if it heightened his sense of danger. He desperately wanted her, especially when she looked at him the way she was now.
“May I have a cigarette?” she asked. Her eyes sparkled and she had a way of swinging her hips just enough to heighten his desire.
“No,” he answered, tipping his hat as they strolled past a couple going in the opposite direction.
She stopped walking and abruptly glared at him. “Why not?”
“Because you might be arrested. Women are not allowed to smoke on the streets of Denver.”
Her demeanor quickly changed back to a more pleasant one as she started them walking again. “Only women? That is ridiculous.”
“I agree, but we must let them have their little rules. It makes them feel important, especially since they have little control over the crime in this city.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“That, my dear, Caroline, is how a man on a meager salary can afford a house, servants and fine carriages. How much he can afford depends on how often he manages to look the other way. Oh, the town folks get upset occasionally, and the sheriff orders a few arrests, but in less than a week everything is back to the way it was.”
Caroline had never met a man like Jedediah – a man who lived on the edge. She too was a little concerned about getting caught in his company, but she found the danger thrilling and by now, she was getting used to it. She found him thrilling too. It was not just his breathtaking eyes. Every time he touched her, she thought her heart would stop beating. He had not yet kissed her, but she wanted him to. She wanted him to very much, and it was an unfamiliar yearning that touched the very fiber of her being.
She was even jealous when he mentioned the female boarding houses where a man could get all the pleasure he could afford. “Tell me about the ladies of the evening. I have always been curious?”<
br />
A slow smile crossed his face, “Are you asking me to confess I’ve been with them?”
“Of course not. I merely want to know what they wear and how they…”
“They normally do not wear anything.”
His boldness made her blush, something she rarely did. “I suspect we best talk of something else. My husband, Mr. Sinclair once said…”
“Sinclair? I thought you said your name was Griffith.”
She quickly turned her head away for a moment so she could recover from her mistake. “Oh dear, did I say Sinclair? Mr. Sinclair was my poor, dearly departed father. Today is the anniversary of his death and I suppose he is on my mind. I meant Mr. Griffith.”
It was his first hint something was amiss, but he gladly accepted her explanation as any man falling madly in love would. “What did Mr. Griffith say?”
“What? Oh that. I am afraid I have completely forgotten what I was about to say. Do forgive me.”
“You are forgiven. Did you marry Mr. Griffith in England or in San Francisco?”
“In England. It was an arranged marriage, settled upon before my father died. What could I do but carry out his dying wish? At first, I thought Mr. Griffith the most witless man I had ever met. Sailing across an entire ocean with a stupid man can be quite tiresome.” She nervously giggled. “Unfortunately, my youth betrayed me and soon proved I was the tireless one.”
He chuckled. “You are delightful, Mrs. Caroline Griffith. I hope our time together will not end too soon.”
“I do not see why it should, do you?”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He took her hand, pulled her into a clump of trees, abruptly stopped and wrapped one arm tight around her. He removed his hat and as soon as she lifted her face, he found in her lips the love he had waited years to find.
At least…he thought he had.
His passion left no doubt in her mind how he felt, and little doubt about her own feelings. His kiss was all consuming, and his strong arms were clamped tight around her, just as she dreamed they would be. For the first time in her life, a kiss took her breath away.
Yet, this man was Jedediah Tanner – a train robber and possibly a lot more. She knew not to let the feelings of love happen, yet she was helpless to stop them.
*
For the next few days, the duchess and Jedediah spent nearly every waking moment together. They attended the opera at the Tabor Grand Opera House and performances at the Apollo Hall, the Denver Theatre and the Broadway Theatre. When she mentioned an interest in seeing the gambling halls, he took her to the most opulent one he could think of.
The duchess, who loved the gambling halls in Paris, found the occasional gunfight, fistfight and unruly gold miners in Denver appalling. Such things rarely happened between men in the finer European establishments. While she adored being admired, the boisterous Denver men threw manners to the wind, and were not opposed to touching her quite uninvited.
“They are just like Charles,” she absentmindedly muttered.
“Who?” Jedediah asked.
Thankfully, a disturbance across the room distracted him and she was not required to answer. Her curiosity was a great deal more than satisfied and she was relieved when Jedediah suggested they find a place more to her liking.
That night, after he took her back to her hotel, he broached the subject of marriage. It was not as though she wasn’t expecting it, but she begged to be allowed to think about it for a while.
Alone in her room, she got ready for bed and then slumped in a chair. His proposal complicated everything. She truly wanted to marry him – not for money, but because she loved him. How could she have let that happen? Furthermore, how was she to lure Hannish MacGreagor away from Marblestone with Jedediah constantly by her side?
Of all the bad luck, this was the worst.
There was only one thing to do—let him down easy and somehow rid herself of Jedediah, even if it meant breaking her own heart.
*
“Tis the last train, I promise,” Cameron said as he helped Blair climb the steps. “This shall be a short ride, and as soon as we are there, you can run and play all you like.” He helped her into a seat in the passenger section and sat down beside her. “Your uncle has a very big yard, both in front and behind his house.”
“And a dog,” Blair reminded.
“Aye, the dog’s name is Traitor.”
“Traitor is a silly name.”
“Indeed it is.”
This train was not as crowded as the others had been, nor did they have a Pullman compartment this time, so James had his choice of seats. He settled into the one across the isle. “How long, Mr. MacGreagor?”
“Not more than an hour, as I recall.”
“Do you think Leesil and Cathleen will be waiting at the station?”
“I think half the clan will be waiting at the station.”
“Good,” said James. “I cannae wait to see them. Cathleen was as skinny as a rail last time I saw her.”
“Indeed she was. I confess, when I took her to the ship and sent her to America, I feared she would not survive the voyage. You need not fret now however, Leesil writes that she is strong and doing much better.”
“So you said, but if ‘tis all the same to you, I best see for myself.”
Cameron admired the way James felt about the sisters. He was younger and they were not blood relatives, but James talked about them as if they were.
The train was just a mile or two out of the Denver station when Cameron saw a man and a woman in a buggy. For a moment, he thought the woman was the duchess, but by the time he leaned toward the window to get a better look, the buggy was out of sight. He shrugged, leaned back and watched Blair mouth the memorized words to Snow White one more time.
*
Leesil and Cathleen’s first sight of the train was little more than black smoke billowing in the distance. As usual, a group of town’s people had also gathered. Carriages waited to take cherished passengers home, and wagons waited to take shipments to various businesses and farms.
Too short to see over the heads of others, Leesil handed the baby to her husband, put her arm around her little sister, moved closer to the tracks and leaned forward to watch.
“I am far too excited,” Cathleen said, leaning over as well.
“So am I,” said Leesil. “I wonder if we will recognize him, it has been a year complete.”
“One year and three months for you, sister.”
“True.”
“Oh look, I can see it,” said Leesil, happily clasping her hands together.
Hannish abruptly grabbed Leesil’s arm. “You best get off the tracks now, my love.”
Leesil giggled. She was so excited, she hadn’t realized she was on them. Behind her, McKenna and the judge watched. It wasn’t long ago that the orphan sisters played in the mansion like children. Now they were both young ladies, trying desperately to behave the way they should, but too overcome with anticipation to care.
As if to taunt them, the train slowed to a painful pace, until at last, it stopped. Other people soon crowded in front of the sisters, and even on tiptoe, they found it difficult to see. Finally, Cameron appeared in the doorway holding a little girl in his arms.
Both sisters shrieked with joy and Leesil shouted, “James, James!”
“Here,” a voice in the crowd yelled. He dropped his satchel and one glorious moment later, he had an arm around each sister, hugging and repeatedly kissing each on the cheek.
The sisters cried, McKenna got tears in her eyes and even Cameron got a lump in his throat. He stepped down and hardly noticed when Hannish put an arm over his shoulder. “What took you so long, little brother?”
“‘Tis a long way from Scotland, I’ll have you know.”
Blair put her little hand on Cameron’s face to get his attention. “What’s the matter with James?”
“He is happy,” Cameron answered.
“I am happy, but I don’t cry.”
“They are tears of joy. You will have them someday.”
Blair looked at Hannish and then back at Cameron. “Who’s he?”
“This is your uncle, Hannish.”
“He’s got a baby.”
“Indeed he does.” Cameron’s first sight of his nephew brought a smile to his face.
For a moment, Blair’s uncanny likeness to her mother took Hannish aback, but he soon remembered his manners. “You are very welcome here, Blair.”
“You got a dog?” she asked.
“Indeed I do.”
“Where?”
“At home.” Hannish felt someone behind him and smiled when he realized his sister was trying to wedge her way between the brothers. “Blair, this is your Aunt McKenna.”
Blair jerked her head toward Cameron. “I got an aunt too?”
Cameron rolled his eyes. “I told you about her. She’s the one who loves horses.”
“Oh, I forgot.” She leaned over and kissed McKenna on the cheek. “I like horses, but not as much as dogs. Mrs. Sinclair said we can’t have no dogs.”
McKenna was surprised by the child’s affection. She might look like her mother, but Blair had already captured McKenna’s heart. “Perhaps I might talk to your father about a dog later.”
Blair wrinkled her brow and stuck out her lower lip. “Mr. Sinclair is in a box. He died, but I already know he went to heaven. Mr. Greagor told me.”
“I see. Would you like to ride home with us? We brought a buggy and we are in need of passengers.”
Blair brightened right up, looked at Cameron, saw his nod and put her arms out to McKenna. “Yes, please.”
“She is delightful,” said Hannish.
“She is very busy too and asks a thousand questions.” Cameron watched McKenna and the judge take her to their buggy, and then turned his attention back to James. James still had an arm around each sister and it didn’t look like he was going to let go anytime soon. “You’ll like him,” he told his brother.
Marblestone Mansion, Book 3 Page 10
