by Amanda Cabot
“No.” Elizabeth paused, considering the question, not liking the answer that echoed through her brain. “I don’t think so.”
“I want to have a party,” Tabitha Chadwick told her husband. Nelson had just arrived home from the lumberyard and was changing into the formal attire that she insisted on for dinner. This was the one time of the day when she knew she would have his almost undivided attention. “I want a party that will make everyone forget that soiree Miriam and Richard hosted.” It had been downright annoying the way people kept talking about that evening. Oh, it was true that the Taggerts’ mansion was even larger than Tabitha’s, and the music had been pleasant, but surely Cheyenne’s society matrons knew that she was a more accomplished hostess.
It hadn’t been easy, living next door to Amelia Taggert. Though the woman had never actually snubbed her, Tabitha had the feeling she was looking down that aristocratic nose of hers. The old cow. She was probably worried that her husband would take more than a neighborly interest in Tabitha. As if she’d be interested! If there was one thing Tabitha had learned in the years she’d been married to Nelson, it was that she’d never again look at an older man.
“Will a party make you happy, my dear?” Nelson slid a cuff link into his shirt.
The only thing that would make her truly happy would be if he died, leaving her a wealthy widow, but the party would be an amusement. “Of course, darling.” Though she forced a sweet tone to her voice, inside Tabitha was shrieking a denial. She should not have married Nelson. It had been more difficult than she had expected, pretending even the slightest affection for this old man. But the deed was done. Now she had to make the best she could of it, and that included showing everyone who mattered that she was the city’s premier hostess. By the time Tabitha was done, Amelia Taggert would be green with envy.
“We’ll invite Richard and Miriam and her parents,” she said while Nelson tugged on his waistcoat. The man had developed a bit of a paunch, and it was decidedly unattractive. “We’ll show them what a real party is. And,” she added as if it were an afterthought, “I suppose we should invite Oscar and Jason.” Just because she was tied to Nelson didn’t mean she couldn’t surround herself with young, attractive men. Oscar and Jason weren’t merely attractive; they were downright handsome. Even after the Adam Bennett debacle, Jason was still one of Cheyenne’s most sought-after guests, second only to Oscar.
Tabitha smiled. Jason had refused many invitations, but he wouldn’t refuse Nelson. His presence alone would cement Tabitha’s reputation. By now the old biddies would have forgotten about the Adam Bennett affair; all they’d remember was that Jason was one of the city’s most handsome bachelors. Tabitha’s smile broadened as she thought about the seating arrangement. She’d place them next to her at dinner. If anyone asked, she would claim it was because Oscar was Nelson’s most trusted employee and Jason his attorney. The truth was, she wanted virile men near her, if only for the length of a meal.
The expression Nelson gave her made Tabitha think he had read her thoughts. Absurd! The man saw only what he wanted to see, and that was a devoted wife.
“If you invite Jason, you’d better invite Dr. Harding too.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” Not only was the woman almost as beautiful as Tabitha, but Jason had driven the meddling doctor home from Richard and Miriam’s party, and he’d accompanied her to the Cheyenne Club’s celebration. It hadn’t meant anything, of course. He was merely being polite. Still, Tabitha had no intention of seeing Jason and Elizabeth together, much less being the reason they were in the same room.
Nelson’s eyes narrowed, and once again Tabitha had the unsettling feeling that he knew what she had been thinking.
“They seem to be spending a lot of time together,” he said, never letting his gaze stray from her face. “I saw them riding in Jason’s carriage earlier today.”
It had to have been business. Tabitha couldn’t imagine that Jason found anything attractive about that lady doctor. She was pretty enough, but once she opened her mouth, vinegar spilled out. Jason couldn’t like that.
Knowing better than to argue with her husband, Tabitha nodded and said sweetly, “Whatever you say, darling.” In the meantime, she’d learn what she could about Jason and the doctor. If there was anything to the story of their being together, she would discover it, and then she’d find a way to destroy their relationship. Jason deserved better than Elizabeth Harding.
When dinner was over and Nelson had retired to his smoking room, Tabitha summoned her maid.
“Camille, I want you to find out everything you can about Dr. Harding. Tell me everything you learn, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”
The maid nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The only good thing he could say about this party was that Elizabeth was here. Jason frowned as he looked around the ballroom, waiting for the interlude before the dancing began to finally end. He hadn’t wanted to come and had in fact penned his regret, but when Elizabeth had mentioned receiving an invitation, he’d torn up his note and sent Tabitha Chadwick a brief message, saying he would be pleased to attend. That might have been true if he were spending the evening with Elizabeth. When he’d offered to drive her to the Chadwick mansion, he’d thought they would remain together. That hadn’t happened.
For some reason, Oscar Miller seemed determined to monopolize her. The instant they’d set foot inside the huge parlor that had been turned into a ballroom, Oscar had insisted he would be Elizabeth’s partner for the first dance. Jason had thought he’d share that with her, but when he started to protest, Elizabeth had told him he could have the last. The way her eyes had sparkled when she’d said that told him she thought there was something special about the last dance. Jason had never put any special significance to the evening’s finale, but if that was the way Elizabeth felt, he’d make certain the dance was special. Very special.
“We need to talk.” Richard gestured toward the currently unoccupied dining room. “Let’s go there.” When they were far enough inside that their voices would not be overheard, Richard made his announcement.
“You ought to marry her.”
Jason stared. His friend sounded like Harrison Landry, perhaps taking his place, since Harrison was not among the list of attendees at Nelson and Tabitha’s gathering.
“She’s not interested.” There was no point in feigning ignorance of the object of Richard’s suggestion.
Richard’s narrow face seemed even thinner than usual as he frowned. “The rumors have started,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t know how it happened, but I overheard Oscar telling a couple of his cronies that Dr. Harding was no better than she needed to be.”
Clenching his fists, Jason wished he didn’t know what Oscar meant by that particular phrase. It wasn’t true. He knew it. Just as he knew that he would bash in the man’s face if he dared to repeat such a vile rumor.
“He didn’t mention your name specifically,” Richard continued, “but he left enough hints that anyone could guess.”
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”
“I know what really happened—or, in this case, what didn’t happen. So do you, so does Elizabeth. Unfortunately, what matters is what everyone else believes. Truth doesn’t necessarily play any part in that.”
The anger that flared through him startled Jason with its intensity. How dare someone impugn Elizabeth’s honor? That was bad enough, but the scurrilous nature of the attack was even worse. A true man would have confronted her, not filled the room with insinuations.
“I’ll make him retract it. And then I’ll give him a thrashing he won’t forget.”
Richard grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “You can’t do that, Jason. Don’t you see, that’s what he’s counting on, that someone will tell you and you’ll react. If you do, it’ll only confirm Oscar’s story. That would hurt Elizabeth even more.”
Jason hated the fact that Richard was correct. “It’s not fair. Elizabeth’s a good
doctor and an honorable woman.”
“I agree, but as I told you before, what you and I know isn’t as important as what others believe.”
“So, what can I do other than smash every bone in Oscar Miller’s body?”
The orchestra had ceased its endless tuning and had begun the first dance, the dance that Elizabeth would share with that despicable cur. Jason wanted to rush into the parlor and pull her away from Oscar, but Richard was right. That would play into Oscar’s hands.
Richard’s expression remained solemn. “If you want to help, you can marry Elizabeth or at least court her for a while. That’ll give the gossips something else to chew on. You know there’s nothing they like as much as a romance.”
“Marriage?” He couldn’t marry Elizabeth. She wasn’t ready to give up her practice, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—marry a woman who would be only a part-time mother.
“Or courtship.”
Jason took a deep breath, willing his anger at Oscar to subside as he considered Richard’s suggestion. The thought of courtship—a temporary courtship until the nasty rumors had subsided and Cheyenne’s gossips found other grist for their mill—was oddly appealing. Elizabeth was beautiful, intelligent, and fun to be with. She challenged him in ways no other woman had ever dared, and though it wasn’t always comfortable to be on the receiving end of her criticism, she was equally lavish with her praise.
Elizabeth was unlike any woman Jason had met. If circumstances were different, if she weren’t wedded to her profession, he might court her in truth. But for a while at least, he would take Richard’s advice. He would do what he could to deflect rumors.
As he felt the anger drain from him, Jason smiled. Courting Elizabeth wouldn’t be so bad. As for marriage . . . there was no need to rush into that.
The man was disgusting. He was wearing some kind of cologne that made Elizabeth’s eyes water. That was bad enough. Even worse was the way he held her too close. Worst of all was the way he leered at her. Her gown was not provocative. The neckline was demure; gloves covered her hands and most of her arms. There was no reason he should be staring at her as if he were a starving man and she a roast chicken. Would this dance never end?
Though it was probably only a few minutes, it felt like hours later when Elizabeth heard the final strains of the waltz. At last! She prepared to get as far from Oscar Miller as she could. The instant he released her, she would escape. But as the music died, instead of lowering his arms, he drew her closer, propelling her into the hallway.
“I thought the dance would never end,” he said, his hazel eyes glinting with an expression that made Elizabeth’s skin crawl. “I’ve never met a woman who could flirt with just her eyes the way you do. Yours told me you want this as much as I do.” Before Elizabeth could respond, he lowered his head, his pursed lips leaving no doubt that he intended to kiss her.
“No!” She broke away from him. Though the temptation to run was strong, Elizabeth’s instincts told her he would consider that part of the game. Instead she forced herself to look him in the eye as she said, “You are sadly mistaken if you believe that I would welcome a kiss or any form of attention from you. I don’t know what other women have told you, but I find you repulsive.”
“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart.” He grasped her arm, preventing her from fleeing. “All I want is what you’ve been giving to the others.”
As the implication of his words registered, Elizabeth felt bile mingle with the anger that was coursing through her. “That insinuation is not worthy of a reply.”
Wrenching her arm from his grip, she spun on her heel. It would have been a more effective gesture, Elizabeth reflected five minutes later as she sat in the ladies’ retiring room, a needle and thread in her hand, if she’d been a bit more graceful. That impetuous spin had resulted in her catching her heel on her skirt and ripping the ruffle.
“There you are.” Miriam’s face brightened as she entered the room and saw Elizabeth. “I wondered where you’d gone.”
Elizabeth pointed to the ruffle she was attempting to reattach to one of Charlotte’s masterpieces. “My skirt needed a minor repair.” And she had needed the time to let her anger subside.
“I saw you dancing with Oscar.” Miriam gave her a questioning look.
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention that man’s name in my hearing.”
A chuckle greeted her words. “He is a loathsome creature, isn’t he? I don’t understand it. Nelson’s the finest man you could hope to meet—other than Richard and my father, of course. I can’t imagine why he chose Oscar as his foreman.”
Elizabeth didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was staying as far away from Oscar Miller as possible.
“There were rumors that Tabitha insisted on it,” Miriam said, her voice thoughtful.
After she secured the final stitch, Elizabeth looked up. “I don’t put much stock in rumors.”
Miriam raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should. Rumor has it that Oscar plans to court you.”
15
How could you do it?” Tabitha glared at the man who sat next to her, a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon, and freshly baked biscuits in front of him. Oscar had joined her and Nelson for what had become a weekly tradition of sharing a leisurely Sunday breakfast. Today, however, Nelson had left after eating only a few bites. Though she doubted it was possible that he’d read her mind and known that she wanted time alone with Oscar, she was grateful for her husband’s departure. Now she could tell Oscar everything that had been simmering in her mind since the previous evening’s party.
“You were practically drooling over her,” she said, her voice harsh with the memory. “I’ve never seen such a disgusting sight.”
Apparently unfazed by her anger, Oscar took another bite of bacon, chewing carefully before he replied. “What’s the matter, Tabitha? If I didn’t know better, I would think you were jealous. But why would you be? You got what you wanted.” He gestured at the breakfast room with its imported wallpaper and the furniture that had once graced a French chateau. “You’re Mrs. Nelson Chadwick, one of Cheyenne’s most illustrious society matrons.”
Tabitha started to choke on her coffee. When she’d managed to swallow it, she turned back to Oscar. “You make that sound like a disease.”
“Perhaps it is. It doesn’t seem to make you happy.” Oscar split a biscuit, then dabbed a heaping spoonful of jam on one half. “You’re not the fun-loving girl you were before you married Nelson.” Stuffing the biscuit into his mouth, he stared at Tabitha while he chewed. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you’d married me?” he asked when he’d swallowed the last bite.
Every day, but that was something she had no intention of admitting. “There’s no need to wonder,” Tabitha said, keeping her voice as cool as ice. “I know exactly what it would be like. We’d both still be poor.” And that was unthinkable.
Oscar’s eyebrows rose, as if he had read her mind. “I won’t deny that rich is better than poor, but I miss your kisses.”
And she missed kissing him. Oh, how she missed that. “You can still have them. You don’t have to chase after the doctor.”
“I’m afraid not.” Though she read the regret in his eyes, Oscar’s tone was steely. “I may not have the highest scruples in the world—I proved that when I took the job you arranged for me—but I won’t stoop so low as to dally with another man’s wife.” Oscar took another sip of coffee. “You don’t need to worry about the doctor, though. She was just a diversion. I thought it would be entertaining to see how you and Jason Nordling reacted. Now I know. You’re both jealous.”
“Of course I am. You’re mine.” Oscar was the only man Tabitha had ever loved. It was true that Jason was handsome, but he didn’t make her heart race the way Oscar did.
He shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You made your choice, and now you belong to Nelson. My boss.” Oscar practically spat the words. “I won’t dishonor him.”
Clenching her fork, Tabitha stared at Oscar, searching for a way to convince him. “Why not? It’s not as if Nelson would care. He has no compunction about breaking his wedding vows.”
Oscar blinked, his surprise evident. “Nelson? Never!”
Tabitha started to laugh until she remembered that what Oscar hated most was to be ridiculed. She curled her lip and hoped he would realize the scorn was directed at her husband. “You think Nelson’s some kind of saint? Hah! He visits a whore at least once a week, sometimes more often. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where he is right now.”
Though he’d appeared to be enjoying his meal, Oscar pushed the plate aside as if he’d lost his appetite. “I can’t believe it. Who is she?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Oscar’s expression said he didn’t believe her. “Why should I care? Nelson is giving me what I want—money and a respected position in society. If you weren’t so prudish, you could give me love.”
Heedless of the fact that etiquette demanded he wait for her to rise, Oscar pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Tabitha. Regardless of how Nelson may or may not be spending his evenings, there will be nothing other than simple friendship between you and me so long as you’re Nelson’s wife.”
Tabitha rose. Placing her hand on Oscar’s arm and giving him her warmest smile, she looked up at him. “You’ll change your mind,” she said, stroking his arm. “I can make you change your mind.”
He pulled his arm from her grip and shook his head. “No, you can’t.”
“Are you heading home?”
Elizabeth turned, her hand still on the doorknob. “Yes.” It was a few minutes earlier than usual, but she’d had no patients this afternoon, so there seemed little reason to linger. She had planned to stick her head inside Jason’s office to tell him she was leaving, but now there was no need. He was standing next to her door.
