by Merry Farmer
Howard’s eyes shone with pleasure and with confidence. “Is she the sort of woman to sequester herself for the sake of keeping you away from company?”
It took less than a second for Elizabeth to know the answer to that one. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Then I shall keep my ear to the ground, waiting for word that your house will be the center of some sort of entertainment.”
“And if it is, I can’t see any way that you would be invited to it.” Elizabeth sagged.
“Who says one needs to be invited?”
His mischief was contagious. A giggle formed in Elizabeth’s throat, pushing its way up until she had to let go of Howard’s hand and clap hers over her lips to keep from an unladylike outburst.
“Elizabeth!”
As quickly as mirth had swept her away, it was banished by the sound of her father’s voice. Howard turned and Elizabeth glanced past him to find her father coming out of his office. Worse still, Jonas was marching up the street toward them.
“What is the meaning of this?” her father demanded.
“We met while walking.” Elizabeth fell back on old habits, gesturing for her friends to step forward and join her. Only Isobel rushed to her aid.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her father came to a stop in front of Howard. Jonas stopped as well, crossing his arms, hardly sparing a glance for her. “I told you to get out,” her father spat at Howard. “I meant of the city.”
To his credit, Howard laughed. “How could I possibly leave the city before I have secured my dear Elizabeth’s hand?”
Mr. Ayers glowered. Jonas scoffed. Elizabeth exchanged a wary glance with Isobel, who grasped her free hand in support. At least someone was supporting her.
“Why, you arrogant puppy,” her father snapped. “Get out of my sight at once.”
“Puppy.” Howard shared a laugh with his friend. “Did you hear that, Cyrus? I am an arrogant, impudent puppy.” He turned to Elizabeth. “And I would be a happy puppy if I could just lay my head in your lap and stare up at you in adoration, tongue lolling.”
Elizabeth giggled before she could stop herself. Jonas sniffed in disgust. Her father raised his walking cane threateningly.
“I’ll go.” Howard took a step back, holding up his hands, before any blows could be rained down. “I’ll go and prepare,” he said to Elizabeth with a wink.
“See here, you—” Her father didn’t get the chance to finish his harangue.
Howard walked off, easy as he pleased, his friend chuckling at his side. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Henrietta and Madeline as she followed him with her eyes and her heart. They both appeared shocked to the bone. Elizabeth had never been more in love.
“Your mother was right.”
Her father’s statement whipped her back to face him.
“You should not be allowed out unaccompanied. Jonas.”
“Hmm?” Jonas dropped his arms and focused on Elizabeth. If Elizabeth didn’t know better, she would think that his attention had drifted off during the confrontation with Howard.
“Jonas, you will take my daughter out for tea, then see that she is returned home.”
“Oh, but Mr. Ayers, the four of us were out on a walk,” Madeline said.
Elizabeth’s father glared at her. “Then you had better continue walking before I advise your parents of your part in this.”
“Our part?” Henrietta squeaked. “We didn’t have a part.”
Her protest fell on deaf ears. Madeline grabbed Henrietta’s arm and Isobel’s hand and tugged them off down the street.
Elizabeth was left with no Howard, no friends, and no way to get out of tea with Jonas. But she would be damned if she was left with no choice about the course of her own life. The only way to ensure that was to smile and play along.
“Yes, father.” She schooled her features to obedience and stepped sideways toward Jonas. “I will enjoy tea with my fiancé.”
Indeed she would, if her heart’s true fiancé was anywhere nearby to take her to tea.
Chapter 5
Less than half an hour later, Elizabeth regretted bowing to her father’s wishes so easily. In fact, she regretted ever bowing to her father’s wishes.
“…and once the funds can be found to finance riverboats, crops, livestock, and goods being transported along the canal from farms in Indiana will be able to be shipped to ports along the Mississippi, and a tidy profit will be made all around,” Jonas droned on.
He had taken her to one of the finest tea shops in Cincinnati with a view overlooking the Ohio River. As Jonas talked, Elizabeth stared out the window. The river was crowded with great, white-painted riverboats these days. Most were plain and unadorned, carrying cargo downstream to join the Mississippi or north and east, as far as Pittsburgh. A few were decorated in style, with festoons and lanterns proclaiming that they hosted card games and live shows. Elizabeth even caught a glimpse of bright, colorful skirts as ladies of questionable morals paraded the decks.
She started out trying to hide her sighs, to disguise that she was far more interested in the world outside the window than in Jonas’s conversation.
“Of course, the smartest investors would have put their money into the scheme when it was still just that—a scheme waiting for fruition,” he went on. His face pointed in Elizabeth’s direction, but one good look at his eyes showed that his focus was on some phantom spot over her shoulder. For all he cared, he could have been conversing with the lamp at the far end of the room.
So Elizabeth sipped her tea, smiled banally, and hummed when she thought it was appropriate. All the while, her thoughts and her heart soared away across the river, heading West.
What was Howard’s plan? Would he sneak up to her room in the middle of the night, like Romeo did with Juliet? She could see him climbing the rose trellis beside her window with ease, ignoring the pricks of thorns as his heart spurred him on. He would ensure pain and discomfort to come to her rescue., and once he was safely in her room, she would kiss his poor, injured hands, binding them with fragrant oils and strips from her own petticoats.
A sigh escaped her lungs.
“Indeed.” Jonas nodded. “For I already have it on good authority that one early investor in the Whitewater Canal has more than trebled his initial investment. In fact, rumor has it that the man is richer to the tune of five hundred thousand dollars. It’s a shame those rumors don’t also include his name.”
No, no, Howard would never do anything that would bloody his hands. Elizabeth shifted in her seat, raising her teacup to her lips to taste the milky, sugary mixture. She met Jonas’s eyes only for as long as it took for him to be reassured she was paying attention to him.
Which she wasn’t.
“In practical terms,” Jonas went on, “whoever the gentleman is, he would be best served now by investing in infrastructure. The building trade presents a unique opportunity for—”
Perhaps Howard would ride into her parents’ back garden, past the tool shed and the stables, and on to the house. He would be mounted on a white steed, wearing the finest suit money could buy. No, he would be in his shirtsleeves, vest hanging loose around his lean torso, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Her cheeks heated at the thought. He would ride to her window—which she would throw open to greet him—and proceed to stand on the steed’s back to reach for her. A horse’s back was high enough that he’d be able to reach her windowsill, of course. He would pull himself up, using muscle and grit alone to hoist himself into her bedroom.
“Parrone’s Construction is the better bet,” Jonas was saying. “Though I prefer the prospects of Keitel’s Builders myself. Although both are, sadly, owned by foreigners. Is it so much to ask to have an honest, American business to back?”
Once Howard was in her room, she would rush to him, throw her arms around him, and lay her head on his shoulder. He would capture her in a heroic embrace, pressing her close. She could practically feel the strength and firmness of his muscles molding against her soft, yielding flesh. Li
ke she had come so close to feeling at the ball last night. She remembered how large and warm Howard’s hands had been, and now her imagination carried his touch one step further.
He would start by caressing her waist, the same as if they were dancing. But then his touch would linger, would explore. One hand would hold her back while the other…well, the other would slip down over her hip, caress the curve of her backside. She’d never had a man touch her backside before, unless, perhaps, accidentally when helping her down from a carriage. But Howard’s touch would be certain, deliberate. And then he would lift his hand, tracing the line of her side, until he cradled her breast.
Her body responded as if he was doing that very thing right now. Her nipples hardened against the cotton of her chemise, grazing her corset stays. She drew in a subtle breath, causing just enough friction to enhance the sensation. More than just her face burned hot now. Somehow in her imagination, she had gone from wearing a day dress to her nightgown to nothing at all.
The very idea of Howard gazing at her naked body sent chills down her spine and caused gooseflesh to break out. Because, of course, Howard wouldn’t simply look. He would touch. He would claim. He would kiss intimate parts of her the way he had kissed her knuckles. Those intimate parts flared with the delicious ache of desire now. It was all she could do to sit still. Perhaps if she could wriggle just so against the firmness of her seat, she could enhance the sensation that her imagination had—
“Elizabeth, what is wrong with you?” Jonas snapped his question as though cracking a whip over the back of a disobedient team of horses.
“Wrong?” Oh dear, where was he in the conversation? What had he been talking about just then? She scrambled to remember.
“You’ve gone all red,” he said. “As if you were feverish. Oh Lord, you’re not feverish, are you? I can’t abide illness of any kind.” He curled his lip and leaned back in his chair, reaching for his tea.
Elizabeth was feverish, all right, but not in any way Jonas would approve of. “It’s nothing,” she lied. “I think perhaps I am seated too close to the fire.”
Jonas narrowed his eyes at her. “There is no fire. It’s June, for pity’s sake. Who lights a fire in Cincinnati in June?” He snorted and took a sip from his cup. The dainty china looked as out of place in his grasping hands as a rose would look if held by a baboon.
Of course, dainty china would look out of place in Howard’s hands as well. Unless it was the teacup proportions and delicate smoothness of her breast. Oh, yes. Howard would look perfectly at home sipping from that cup and nibbling that treat.
“Go on,” she told Jonas, her voice cracking in the heat of her thoughts. “What were you saying about canal investments?” If she could keep him talking, she would have more time to daydream about her future lover.
But Jonas did not go on. He sneered at her as if she were an offensive wastrel and clattered his teacup against the saucer as he put it down. “I was talking about building investments, Elizabeth, buildings. Lord, are you really so stupid that you can’t keep track of a simple turn in conversation?”
“I—”
“And here I was promised a well-bred woman who would be able to entertain my guests as well as producing my heirs.” He sniffed, looking down his nose at her. “But I see now that you will probably be of more use to me with your mouth shut, enticing guests to my house much like a masterpiece on canvas, talked about but not talked to.”
Elizabeth’s mouth hung open, her rage so sudden and so fierce that it overrode her ability to form the words she needed to verbally smack the man across the face. Howard would never dream of speaking so insultingly to her.
“I do beg your pardon, Jonas. I have never—”
“Yes, you should beg my pardon.” Jonas leaned across the tea table, upsetting the spoon beside his teacup. The spoon clattered to the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You should beg my pardon for your unacceptable behavior of late. How dare you speak to that jumped-up lackey the way you did just now? How dare you dance with him last night when you are engaged to me?”
She worked her mouth, nothing but an offended squeak coming out, until she was able to say, “I am not a piece of property to be owned and ordered about as you see fit. Or as my parents see fit.”
“On the contrary, that is exactly what you are.” Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Women do not have the mental fortitude to act on their own, as you proved so keenly last night and this morning.”
“How dare you?”
“That is why you need your men to tell you what to do,” Jonas went on, ignoring her attempt to speak up for herself. “Clearly you need all the direction you can get.”
Elizabeth sat straighter, gripping the arms of her chair. The fire that had filled her belly during her daydreams of Howard coalesced into a strength that she felt he would be proud of. “I need no more direction than the dictates of my own heart.”
Jonas snorted. “You prove my point by arguing against it.”
“I am far more capable than you or my father begin to give me credit for.” This time, she ignored his interjection. “I am more than a piece in a business deal. I have interests and dreams of my own.”
“I don’t care about your dreams and interests.”
“And that is precisely the problem.”
Elizabeth stood, swiping her reticule from the table and bending to the side to retrieve her closed parasol. Jonas frowned at her as she stepped away from her place. She leaned closer to him, doing her very best not to cause a scene in the moderately crowded teashop.
“I’m sorry, Jonas, but our engagement is over.”
“What?” He scowled up at her, tense, as if finally realizing she was someone to sit up and pay attention to.
That reaction alone gave her the fortitude to continue. “I have no interest in marrying you. I will not be a part of my father’s business dealings any longer. You will have to find some other pretty, vapid girl to subject herself to you, for it will not be me. I am going to marry Howard Haskell.”
With a proud grin, Elizabeth stood straight and turned to march off.
Jonas grabbed her wrist with so much force that she cried out and dropped her reticule. He was on his feet, his nose inches away from hers, before she could bend to retrieve it or shake free. The other patrons of the teashop tensed and whispered, doing their best to pretend they didn’t see what was happening in front of them.
“You will behave yourself in public, Elizabeth, or in private you will learn that I am not a man who takes being crossed lightly,” Jonas hissed.
“I will not—”
“You will do as you’re told.” He cut her off, squeezing her wrist hard enough to make her wince. “This marriage was arranged by our parents, and they are not to be disobeyed. You think you can throw me off by running to them?”
“I will not run to them.” She returned his threat with one of her own. “I will run to Howard.”
Jonas ignored her, fire in his eyes. “Your parents will not receive you. They will send you right back to me to do with as I please.”
“And you expect that to entice me into obedience? To you?” Elizabeth’s brow rose to her hairline.
“This is a match that everyone wants,” Jonas growled.
“Not everyone.” Elizabeth yanked her wrist out of his grip. It hurt, but Jonas was not expecting her to fight him, so she was able to break free. “I do not want it, and I will not have it.”
She bent to retrieve her reticule, taking a step forward as she did. When she straightened, Jonas was right behind her, so close she could feel the heat rippling off of him. He stepped into her, brushing against her shoulder from behind. His mouth tilted close to her ear.
“You will learn your place, Elizabeth Ayers,” he whispered in fury. “You will keep your mouth shut and your legs open or you will regret it.”
Her fury stiffened to fierce certainty that kept her back straight and enabled her to turn her head to stare into his eyes and hiss,“I will keep m
y legs open, all right, but you will not be the one between them. And if you do somehow manage to find a way to drag me into this god-forsaken marriage against my will, my legs will remain open for any man who wishes to slip between then, from your closest friend to the lowliest negro dockworker on the river.”
She took a step away, out of his reach, and dared him with her eyes to retaliate. Jonas could only stand there, impotent and quivering with rage, as the patrons of the teashop did a poor job of concealing their interest in the confrontation. Elizabeth could practically feel the word ‘whore’ forming on Jonas’s lips, could taste his fury and his desire to hurt her in particularly intimate ways. But he would never have the chance. He would never even come close. One word to Howard, and this entire nightmare would be over.
She sent Jonas one final, arch look before turning away, tilting her chin up with pride, and marching out. More than one of the young women watching with delicate teacup in hand sent her glances of support and admiration. Would that they could all stand up to vile men like Jonas.
One thing was certain, though. Now that she’d done her part and declared her freedom, Howard needed to come through with his plan and make that freedom a reality.
Chapter 6
A few days later, the Ayers estate was alight with candles, music, and the laughter of the guests that had come to enjoy a musical soiree. Top-rate singers had been brought in from the major cities back East, and while their offerings were divine, the true purpose of the evening was for Cincinnati’s finest to mix and mingle, giggle and gossip.
“They couldn’t have created a more perfect event if they’d custom-tailored it for me,” Howard chuckled as he, Cyrus, and Virginia snuck through the Ayers’s moon-bright gardens to the French doors that were thrown wide to let air into the main salon.
“Just don’t end up with the ball from a dueling pistol between your eyes,” Virginia said, picking at the lace around her sleeves as they tidied themselves before sneaking inside. “Because then I’d have to avenge your death, and things might get ugly.”
