Courting Susannah

by Linda Lael Miller

  Aubrey was eating some of Maisie’s chicken and dumplings; he took time to chew. Just one more simple, ordinary thing he had to be careful about. Real careful, since he’d loosened a few teeth in the fight. “Never mind that,” he said impatiently. Delphinia was long gone, and as far as he was concerned, it would be downright greedy to ask for more. “What I want to know is, what’s happened to you? You aren’t the same man as before.”

  Ethan rounded in his own good time, regarded his brother with a slightly mysterious grin. He was holding his hat, turning it around slowly by the brim. “Oh, I’m the same, all right.”

  Aubrey narrowed his eyes, then shook his head. “I guess you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready,” he said. “I had a visit from John Hollister earlier this morning. It seems he’s resigned from the Pinkerton agency to take up the law again. I suppose he’s tired of traveling so much.”

  Perhaps it was the mention of the police that made the smile slide off Ethan’s face and vanish into thin air. “He’d like to marry Susannah,” he said, but the comment sounded like an aside; he was plainly thinking of something else. He made another stab at lightening things up a little. “You’d better get well fast, brother. Half the town’s set to court her, should you pass away or remain an invalid.”

  “Very funny,” Aubrey said without a shred of amusement anywhere in his being. “You’re in bad trouble over that little set-to with Delphinia, aren’t you?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Like I said, she’s disappeared. Hollister thinks they’ll drop the charges eventually, given the fact that I was shot in the scuffle and she’s not around to testify.” Another fleeting, faltering grin. “Provided I stay out of dutch in the meantime, of course.”

  “Of course,” Aubrey agreed, setting aside what remained of his lunch and lying back against the pillows. “That’s good advice, Ethan. You won’t accomplish anything by getting yourself sent to prison.”

  “You want me to just let those sons-of-bitches get away with damn near killing my brother?”

  “I’d prefer that to seeing you ruin the rest of your life. Forget what happened, Ethan. It isn’t your fight.”

  “Whose fight is it, then? And don’t say the police will handle it. You and I both know they’ll chase down a few leads, then give up and close the case for good.”

  “Did it ever occur to you,” Aubrey said, “that it might be my fight? I’m the one who took the beating, aren’t I?”

  Ethan slapped the hat against his thigh, and a muscle pulsed at the edge of his jaw. “You can’t even get out of bed. How are you going to track a bunch of wharf rats in and out of every dive on the waterfront?”

  “Ah. So you have been playing detective. And after you promised Hollister you wouldn’t.”

  This time, the grin was genuine. “All I did was ask a few questions here and there,” he said.

  “Ethan.”

  “I’ll be careful,” came the clipped reply. The strains of some really sorry piano playing began to seep up between the floorboards. “I see Susannah’s doing a brisk business teaching music,” Ethan said from the door.

  Aubrey tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know how anybody expects me to get well with that racket going on,” he complained. When he looked again, Ethan was gone. Grumbling, he reached for the bowl of chicken and dumplings and began to eat again.

  The sooner he got his strength back, the sooner he wouldn’t have to listen to miners and lumberjacks pounding the ivory. The sooner he could marry Susannah and bring her to his bed, and not merely to lie beside him, though that was a great consolation, to be sure.

  It was just that he wanted so much more.

  Ruby Hollister was bending over, taking a pan of biscuits from the oven, and even though Ethan tried to look away, he couldn’t quite find the will to deprive himself that much. When she turned and smiled at him, blissfully unaware that he’d been thinking lascivious thoughts, he felt some sort of coupling inside, two pieces coming together with a crash and then fusing.

  Ruby’s heavy hair was pinned up into one of those loose arrangements that made it puff out around her face like a cloud, her eyes were brown and bright with laughter, and her figure was womanly enough to stop a man’s heart. She was nothing like Su Lin, and yet he knew his feelings for her were as strong as any he’d ever cherished for his lost lover.

  It tore him apart, because he’d sworn, in his grief and his guilt, never to care that way for anyone else. For all that, with one smile, one touch of her hand, Ruby had broken down the barriers he’d guarded for so long and taken over his heart like a conquering general. The paradox was that she probably had no idea what she’d done.

  “You’ll stay to supper, won’t you?” she asked.

  He thought of the lonely place, hidden away in a stand of pines and Douglas fir in the meadow above his cabin, where he often went to brood, like a man mourning at a gravesite. His dreams were buried there, where Su Lin had told him good-bye.

  “I can’t,” he said. It was penance, of a sort. Su Lin would never know he’d made the gesture, and yet he had to follow through with it all the same. Not for the first time, he offered a silent prayer that she was happy in China, blessed with children, health, and plenty.

  Ruby tried to hide her disappointment as she turned away and began sliding the biscuits into a basket lined with a red and white checkered napkin. “I understand,” she said, but she didn’t sound as if she did.

  He took her gently by the shoulders and, when she put down the baking pan, brought her around to face him. “I’d like to come calling tomorrow, Ruby. If that’s all right with you.”

  Her eyes were wide and guileless, but she was anything but stupid. “Is there someone else, Ethan? Because if there is, I’d just as soon you left me be.”

  He curved a finger beneath her chin, tempted to kiss her, then brought himself under better control and drew back a little way. “There’s nobody else,” he said. It was true enough, and yet he felt like a traitor for saying so. “I’ve got some other things to see to—you know that, Ruby.”

  A pained expression crossed her face, but she nodded. “I know. There’s your poor brother, and that business about your being arrested—”

  “Not to mention shot,” he reminded her. He was healing fast, but he still liked a measure of feminine sympathy when he could garner it. “As for my ‘poor brother,’ he’s getting ornerier every day. He’ll be back in the store bossing everybody around before Christmas.”

  She smiled, and he was lost. He would have done anything she asked of him in that moment, and he was glad as hell that she didn’t know it. “We could borrow John’s buggy and go out riding,” she said.

  He wanted to kiss her, but again he denied himself. “That’s a fine idea,” he agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, around four.”

  She nodded, and he took his leave.

  Half an hour later, he stood alone on sacred, grieving ground. There was a chilly wind coming up off the water, and he’d raised the collar of his sheepskin coat against it. The moss-covered stone where he and Su Lin had sat so many times, dreaming, was crusted with fresh snow, and the small brass Buddha she’d left behind had tilted to one side.

  Ethan lowered himself to his haunches and cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blowing in an effort to warm them. Then he straightened the Buddha and spent a few moments studying the gray sky. There would be more snow before the day was out, he reckoned. His spirit yearned for the light and warmth of summer.

  He was silent a long time, pondering what he would say, shaping the words in his mind, practicing them. “There’s a woman, Su Lin,” he said finally. “Her name is Ruby—”

  Susannah supported much of Aubrey’s weight as the two of them made their way slowly back and forth along the length of the Persian rug in his bedroom. Victoria, who had recently learned to sit up on her own, watched curiously from a blanket, simultaneously chewing on the foot of a cloth doll.

  “Very good,” Susannah said, lest
Aubrey should need encouragement. She knew it was hard on his pride, not being able to move about on his own. “You’ve done a great deal today. Let’s rest now.”

  “Let’s rest?” he retorted, frowning down into her upturned face. “Are you tired, Susannah? Because I’m not.”

  Susannah sighed. The truth, she suspected, was that he was expecting a visit from Mr. Hollister that afternoon, and he wanted to be on his feet for the interview, not lying in bed or stretched out on the Roman couch in the corner in front of the bay windows. Even if it meant he would collapse directly afterward. “All right, go ahead and wear yourself down to a nub, if that’s what you want.”

  “I’m ready to try the stairs,” he announced, as though she hadn’t spoken at all.

  The stairs. Just getting him dressed had been an ordeal for both of them; now he wanted to make his perilous way to the distant study. “Couldn’t you receive Mr. Hollister in your sitting room? It’s perfectly good—” Not to mention that it was next door to the bedchamber and thus within easy reach.

  “I can’t hide in this room forever,” Aubrey snapped. Then an expression of remorse crossed his face, and his features, iron-hard and pale only a moment before, softened a little. Some of his color came back. “I’m sorry, Susannah. It’s just that my life is out there, happening without me.”

  She smiled and laid a hand to his chest. “Your life is in here,” she said. “You carry it with you, wherever you go.”

  He bent his head, no small accomplishment considering how stiff he was, with his ribs still bound, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Ah, Susannah, Susannah. I don’t deserve you.”

  “That’s true,” she said thoughtfully, then laughed. “Come along, then. If you insist on going downstairs, we’d better get started. Mr. Hollister will be here in an hour.”

  Aubrey shook his head, and his expression was wry. “ ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth,’” he quoted.

  Susannah summoned Ellie to look after Victoria, and when the other woman had arrived, she and Aubrey set out on their odyssey. The descent to the first floor was laborious, and she could see that he was paying a high price for his vanity. Still, she reasoned, the choice was undeniably his to make, so she offered no further protest. The look of satisfaction on his face, when at last he was seated behind his desk, was worth the whole struggle, though the strain of sitting upright was soon evident.

  Susannah stood behind him and massaged the muscles in his neck. Her fingers were strong from years of playing the piano, and soon he began to relax again. He caught one of her hands in his and kissed it lightly, and, for one brief, impetuous moment, she hoped he might tell her that he loved her. Since he’d been hurt, she’d wanted very much to state her real feelings toward him, but she was afraid that he would call off their marriage if she revealed too much.

  “How long do we have to wait?” he asked.

  “For what?” She was flustered, entangled in other thoughts.

  He pulled her around so that he could look upward into her face. “To be married, Susannah,” he said patiently.

  She felt color surge up her neck to flood her cheeks and hoped her joy didn’t show. “Whenever you feel well enough,” she said with a certain shyness, “I’ll be ready.”

  He searched her eyes. “Will you? Be ready, I mean?”

  She knew what he was asking. He wanted the marriage to be a real one, in every sense of the word. She wanted that, too, but she had virtually no experience in such matters, and so she was naturally nervous. She opened her mouth to say yes, but before she could get the word out, someone turned the bell at the front door.

  She started to move away, knowing Maisie and Ellie were both busy, but Aubrey still had a hold of her hand, and he pulled her back. “Susannah,” he said.

  “Yes,” she blurted, blushing again. “Yes, I’ll be ready.”

  He smiled broadly. “Good, because I already am.”

  She pulled away. “We have company,” she reminded him sternly.

  John Hollister was waiting on the front porch, the collar of his overcoat pulled up to protect his ears, his bowler hat dusted with melting snow. She saw a gentle sorrow in his eyes as he regarded her, but he smiled and inclined his head politely. “Miss McKittrick,” he said. “I’ve come to see Aubrey.”

  She nodded and stepped back to admit him, then took his coat. “Come in, please. It’s very cold. Could I bring you something warm to drink?” She was acting like a wife, and she knew he was conscious of that.

  “You’re very kind,” he said with a slight nod. He started toward the stairs, naturally assuming that Aubrey was still confined to his bed, given the fact that only a week had passed since his injuries were sustained. During that time, she’d kept from going insane by packing Julia’s things and putting them away in carefully labeled boxes, against the day when Victoria would want her mother’s belongings.

  Susannah stopped Mr. Hollister’s progress with a look. “He’s in his study,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Hollister replied, and changed directions.

  Several minutes later, Susannah entered the room with a tray. On it were a china teapot, three matching cups and saucers, silver spoons, sugar and hot milk, and a platter of Maisie’s special lemon-sesame seed cakes. The trio of cups was her way of saying she would not be dismissed after she’d served refreshments, like some nosy housemaid.

  “—during my time as a Pinkerton—” Hollister was saying.

  It took a moment for the meaning of that to register with Susannah. When it did, she met Aubrey’s gaze and found that he was looking at her warily. Mr. Hollister went right on talking, unaware of the sudden strain.

  Susannah set the tray down with a force that made the china clatter, but the smile she turned on the visitor was a dazzling one. She saw to that. “You were a detective, Mr. Hollister?” she asked. “I didn’t know that.”

  Hollister’s face went ruddy as he realized his error. He looked helplessly at Aubrey, then fell silent. Only belatedly did he remember that she’d put a question to him. “Er—yes—I was employed by the Pinkerton agency for five years. Before that, i read law.”

  Susannah placed a cup on a saucer and poured tea for the guest. “I see.” She glared at Aubrey. She did indeed see. When she’d first arrived in Seattle, and Mr. Hollister had presumably come to court her, he was actually investigating her. And Aubrey had been the one to hire him. “Well, it was stupid of me not to work that out before now, wasn’t it?” She slammed another cup down in front of the master of the house, who looked none too commanding at the moment.

  “Susannah,” Aubrey protested.

  She poured his tea, hands trembling with anger. “What did you find out about me, Mr. Hollister?” she asked in a bright and brittle voice. “That I’ve left a trail of husbands behind me? That I’m a typhoid carrier? A murderess? An embezzler, perhaps?”

  “Stop it,” Aubrey said. His tone was brisk.

  Susannah’s eyes stung. She flung an acid look at both men before walking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

  Aubrey swore softly.

  “Obviously, you didn’t tell her about the investigation,” Hollister remarked. He was a master of understatement, that Hollister.

  “It wasn’t a secret,” Aubrey replied, a little shortly. “I just never got around to explaining, that’s all. I’ve been a little preoccupied of late.”

  Hollister gave a snorting laugh. “Indeed you have. Now, what can you tell me about the men who assaulted you?”

  Aubrey sat back, repressing a groan. “They were mean as snakes, and there were a lot of them. That’s about all I know.”

  “You didn’t see anything?” Hollister took a pad of paper from his pocket, along with a well-used pencil.

  “It was dark.”

  “Your brother says Mrs. Parker admitted to having been involved, at least indirectly.”

  “So he’s told me,” Aubrey replied. “She’s left Seattle, though, and she’d never a
gain admit to hiring those men anyway, even if you caught up to her. By now, she’s probably headed for points south.”

  “Not east? To New York, maybe? Or Chicago?”

  Aubrey shrugged. He didn’t give a damn where Delphinia was; it was Susannah he was thinking about. He wondered how long she would be angry with him. “She had an ex-husband in Philadelphia, I think,” he said. “An industrialist. There was some kind of scandal, though—I doubt she’d set foot on that side of the Mississippi River.”

  Hollister shifted in his chair. “Don’t you want this case to be solved?” he asked. “It seems fairly obvious that those men meant to kill you. And if Mrs. Parker hired them, then she’s as guilty as they are.”

  Aubrey expelled a sigh. He was hurting in every part of his body, and he could feel the need to sleep sucking him down and down. “Yes. Of course. If only to keep my younger brother from going after them himself.”

  Chapter 15

  As soon as Hollister had finished his largely fruitless interview and left the house, Aubrey hoisted himself to his feet, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed tight shut. He was just thinking what a good thing it was that Susannah couldn’t see him when he turned and found her standing in the open doorway, gazing at him. She looked pale, and there was a tightness around her mouth.

  “You did it for Victoria,” she said.

  She was referring to the Pinkerton investigation, of course. Because of Hollister’s lack of enthusiasm for the project, it had never really gotten past the initial stages, but he, Aubrey, had hired the man all the same. “Yes,” he answered. He stood beside the desk, supporting himself with one hand and hoping he looked casual. “At the time, I planned to settle a fortune on you and let you raise the child wherever you chose. Before I could do that, I had to know you weren’t—how did you put it?—oh, yes, a murderess, a typhoid carrier, or an embezzler, wasn’t it?”

  She offered a tentative, rather reluctant smile. He wanted more than ever to take her to his bed, lay her down and pleasure her until she cried out from it, but it was the middle of the day, and besides, he might kill himself in the attempt. “And?”