Love's Rescue (Keys Of Promise Book 1) (Historical Romance)

by Christine Johnson

  “If you expect me to give you a cent for this supposed information, you’re mistaken.” Rourke headed back toward the harbor. He could not walk to Elizabeth’s house now.

  Naturally Poppinclerk joined him, though he did not comment on the change of direction. “I’m trying to help you,” he panted. “A gift.”

  Poppinclerk gave nothing away. His recent antics showed he would do anything for a price. No doubt he expected substantial payment for the kind of information that could destroy a family. Rourke wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction.

  “I don’t need your kind of gift.”

  “You will soon regret that decision.” Poppinclerk straightened his coat. “Your enemy has not played his last card.”

  Benjamin must have guessed Rourke’s plan or thought he would steal away his daughter. Dread shivered down Rourke’s spine. For a moment he was tempted to accept Poppinclerk’s offer, but he would not deal with a cheat and scoundrel.

  He walked away, certain of what he must do next. Instead of finding excuses to stay in Key West, he must leave. After collecting his share from the sale of the wreck’s cargo, he would set sail as if heading for home. That might convince Benjamin that Rourke had no intention of spiriting away Elizabeth. However, Anabelle might fear he’d abandoned her, especially when she heard that he had headed for Harbour Island.

  Somehow he had to get a message to her. He couldn’t do it himself. Benjamin would be looking for him. No, he had to send someone else.

  The Windsprite bobbed on her anchor. The ship’s boat inched toward the wharf with Tom Worthington at the oars. Tom had brought Anabelle to Key West aboard the Dinah Hale. She would recognize him, and no one in the house would think twice of him inquiring after their welfare.

  Rourke would send Tom. The lad could even deliver a second message to Elizabeth, one that Rourke hoped would bring her back to his side.

  Caroline called on Elizabeth the following day, creating a welcome diversion from the sickening knowledge that she had an illegitimate sibling. She hadn’t been able to look Father in the eye at supper last night, a fact that he noticed. When he asked what was ailing her, she complained of a headache, though it was only partly true. Every part of her ached from the knowledge. This morning she’d hidden the diary beneath the shells in her rosewood box and vowed never to open it again.

  Now Elizabeth embraced her friend. “I’m so glad to see you, more than you can imagine.” For a moment she toyed with the idea of telling Caroline what she’d read but dismissed it just as quickly. That was not the sort of thing shared outside the family. “I wish my mother was still here.”

  Caroline, donned in a sensible straw bonnet and a rust and cream striped gown, pointed to her basket of flowers. “That’s why we are visiting her grave.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not.” The cold marble had given her chills when she visited with Aunt. “Mother isn’t there. I do appreciate your efforts, though. Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course.” Caroline squeezed her hand. “The flowers will look just as nice in a vase.”

  After Elizabeth left the blooms in Anabelle’s hands, Caroline suggested they walk to the shops.

  Aunt Virginia sailed into the foyer, making no attempt to hide that she had been eavesdropping. “A walk is out of the question. It threatens rain.”

  “Then we shall duck inside if a shower approaches.” Elizabeth had to get away from this house before she said or did something that would rend the fragile peace.

  Caroline added unbeatable ammunition. “I would so like Lizzie’s help picking out gloves for the ball.”

  “The ball!” Aunt brightened at once. “Why didn’t you say so? Naturally you must go. Elizabeth, you could stand a new pair too.” She smiled coyly. “And when you return, I hope to have a little surprise for the two of you.”

  Though Caroline dutifully begged to know what that might be, Aunt refused to divulge the secret, other than that it too pertained to the ball.

  “The entire town is abuzz,” Caroline said when they finally strolled down the street.

  Indeed it was busy. Servants carried baskets, some atop their heads. Bells clanged, and workmen called out. The roll of wagon wheels, the smell of fish, and the crunch of gravel tickled the senses. Women scurried here and there, many with children in tow. Men drove wagons laden with barrels or crates. Elizabeth searched the faces of those near her age, both hoping to see a resemblance and terrified that she would.

  Caroline stopped in front of the first shop window. “All everyone talks about is the ball.”

  “Not as much as Aunt Virginia.” Elizabeth heaved a sigh and pretended interest in the shoes on display. “I have done nothing but walk with a book atop my head, practice sitting properly, and engage in meaningless conversation. If you hadn’t paid a visit, I should have gone mad.”

  Caroline laughed as they moved on. “I suppose now we shall be forced to at least look at gloves. I saw some lovely lace ones in the Greene Mercantile.”

  “If they fit, I will put them on Father’s account, and then we may do something more pleasurable. Unless, of course, you want them.”

  “You know what I think of such extravagances. I’m surprised your aunt believed me.”

  “I’m surprised you’re even going to the ball.”

  Caroline inclined her head. “Mother quite rightly pointed out that the scions of society will be in attendance. What better place to promote the league?”

  “The temperance league? At a ball?”

  “I’ll admit it is a bit of a stretch.”

  “Spirits will doubtless be served.”

  Caroline jutted out her pointed chin. Though lovely in every way that mattered, the brunette would be considered plain by most. “Jesus ate with sinners. I am simply following His example.”

  Elizabeth let that idea settle. “You are more courageous than I could ever be. Why, it’s like Daniel stepping into the lions’ den.”

  Caroline laughed. “These lions prefer to use their claws, I fear, but as a minister’s daughter, I am granted a little leeway by most. They might listen more keenly, however, if you joined me.”

  “I couldn’t. Father would object.” His preference for brandy had grown over the years, not diminished. “Besides, if not for Aunt Virginia’s insistence, I wouldn’t even attend.”

  “I thought you hoped to see a certain someone.”

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat despite knowing Rourke had refused her. Would this embarrassing attraction never end? “I do not.”

  Caroline heaved a sigh. “What a relief. I was afraid you would be disappointed.” She stopped in front of a window display of parasols and bonnets.

  “In what?” Elizabeth choked when she noticed her friend’s flushed cheeks. “Are you . . . that is, do you . . . or rather, has a gentleman caught your attention?”

  Caroline stared at her as if she were mad. “What an odd thing to say. Of course not. This is about your certain someone. I heard—” She abruptly stopped.

  “What did you hear?”

  Caroline shook her head.

  Elizabeth grabbed her arm. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Good afternoon, sir.” Caroline looked past Elizabeth. “I don’t believe we are acquainted.”

  Elizabeth whirled around. “Tom!”

  Caroline’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Mr. Worthington,” Elizabeth corrected herself. “A fine day, isn’t it?”

  Tom, dressed the same as he had been on the voyage to Key West, looked to the sky. “Rain’s coming, I fear.”

  His eyes darted toward Caroline, and Elizabeth realized she’d forgotten to make introductions. After that was done to everyone’s satisfaction, she asked if he was looking for her.

  “Indeed I was, miss. I paid a call at your house and spoke to your aunt. She said you had walked into town to look at gloves.” Most men Tom’s age would wrinkle their noses at the mention of shopping for any part of a woman’s wardrobe. Tom managed to say it without
edging away. He dug into his jacket pocket. “I have a letter for you, Miss Benjamin.” He handed her a square of folded paper sealed with wax.

  “For me?” She did not recognize the hand. “Who is it from?”

  “An admirer.” Tom looked toward the harbor. “I need to be on my way. Mr. John will have my head if I’m late.”

  “Thank you,” she called out as Tom hurried away into the crowd.

  “He works on the Windsprite?” Caroline asked after he was gone.

  “Yes.”

  “Curious. The rumor I heard was about that ship. Apparently they’re about to set sail for Harbour Island.”

  The news knifed through Elizabeth. “Are you certain?”

  “Perhaps that letter will tell you more.”

  Elizabeth ripped open the seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper. The first two lines confirmed what Caroline had heard. “He is . . .” She choked out a shaky breath. “He is returning home.” Her hand trembled at the next. “They might be gone a long time, as much as a year.” Tears stung her eyes. He was leaving her the way she’d left him—fit punishment for her sins.

  “Is that all? No explanation?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and tried to blink away the tears enough to read the final words.

  I was a coward that night, dearest Elizabeth. I should have admitted my feelings. Please forgive me. You are always in my thoughts. Though your kind regard is undeserved, I dare to hope you will wait.

  Your ever faithful servant,

  Rourke

  Those were not the words of a man who despised her. Quite the contrary. Hope returned with such a surge that she threw her arms around Caroline. “He loves me. I knew it. He loves me.”

  “Yet he is leaving?” Caroline asked after Elizabeth had composed herself.

  “There must be difficulty at home. It’s the only explanation.”

  Caroline looked unconvinced.

  “What?” Elizabeth prodded. “You don’t think that’s possible?”

  “It’s possible,” Caroline said slowly, “though hardly something to keep secret.”

  “Rourke is a private man. He wouldn’t share his difficulties with anyone.”

  Though Caroline still looked doubtful, she acquiesced. “Then you will wait, even if it’s a year?”

  Though Elizabeth nodded, she knew how difficult that would be. “I will convince Father. Somehow.”

  When Elizabeth returned home, Aunt Virginia informed her that Mr. Finch would join them for supper. In one statement, she deflated Elizabeth’s excitement and pinpointed the problem that awaited her. How could she possibly push away Mr. Finch for an entire year?

  “I will dine in my room,” she stated.

  “You most certainly will not,” Aunt said. “The lady of the house must serve as a gracious hostess even when plagued by headache or fatigue. Your mother always did.”

  The mention of Mother shamed Elizabeth. Mother would not dwell upon disappointment. She would not run headlong through the streets, as Elizabeth had longed to do when first reading Rourke’s letter. She would accept life’s blows and move forward with grace.

  That meant suffering through Percival Finch with his canary-yellow waistcoats, cloying compliments, and clinging fingers.

  Aunt Virginia clucked her tongue. “Where did you and Miss Brown go? Your skirts are caked with dirt. Why, they’re as filthy as your maid’s. I’m beginning to think she is going all over town when she is supposed to be here. Yesterday she showed up at cockcrow with her eyes heavy and her skirts damp. Nathan insists he didn’t see her all night. Cook and Florie claim they were asleep. No one seems to know where that girl of yours spent the night. Unless she stayed in your room. You know that’s unwise. I told you over and over how quickly a darkie will turn on you.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. She had spoken to Anabelle about the late-night forays and asked her not to leave again after curfew. Why would she continue to do so? Now Aunt had begun to suspect. “I will speak to her.”

  “You must discipline her.”

  Though the thought made her ill, Elizabeth nodded.

  Seemingly satisfied, Aunt Virginia returned to the business at hand. “We haven’t much time before supper. You certainly can’t wear that gown. No amount of beating will get the dust from it.”

  She headed for the staircase. “I’ll have Anabelle dress me in the crape.”

  “You will do no such thing. That was my big surprise, which apparently you and Miss Brown completely forgot.” Aunt pouted. “I can never be your mother, but I’m trying to do my best by you.”

  Elizabeth’s heart softened. Aunt had truly looked forward to revealing her big surprise. After all the excitement surrounding Rourke, Elizabeth had completely forgotten about her aunt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s quite all right to forget your poor old great-aunt.” Aunt dabbed at her misty eyes. “Never mind that I took the liberty of finding a gown for you the moment I learned of the ball. It wasn’t easy, mind you. The seamstresses here are dreadful, and there was almost no time to have something made, but Providence smiled on me, dear Elizabeth. Mrs. Evanston happened to have the perfect gown on hand. Apparently the girl who ordered it changed her mind. Though she’s a bit shorter than you, Mrs. Evanston assured me she could make the alterations.”

  Elizabeth blinked. “I have not agreed to attend.”

  “Of course you will attend. Moreover, Mrs. Evanston was kind enough to await your return. Run along upstairs now. We will have the fitting in the reading room.”

  “You kept her here until my return?”

  “Naturally.” Aunt Virginia’s note of triumph rang through the house. “She was only too happy to wait for the daughter of Key West’s most prominent attorney.”

  Elizabeth was too tired to argue. She obediently followed Aunt upstairs. The reading room had been transformed into a fitting room with sheer drapes covering the windows. A woman of perhaps forty years of age stood beside a dressmaker’s form bearing a stunning steel-blue silk gown.

  “It’s blue,” Elizabeth cried. “I can’t wear blue.”

  “It’s gray,” Aunt Virginia countered. “Isn’t it, Mrs. Evanston?”

  The woman, clearly already under Aunt Virginia’s control, nodded agreeably. “It will look especially fine on someone of your stature and complexion. We will refashion the existing skirt by adding a flounced underskirt of this lovely matching silk.”

  The shimmering creation was a ball gown fit for the finest dance in Charleston. In no way did it reflect that Elizabeth was in mourning.

  “It’s not appropriate,” she whispered to her aunt.

  “Nonsense.”

  “It has red rosettes on the skirt and bodice.”

  Aunt waved away Elizabeth’s concern. “A tiny splash of color.”

  “I’m in mourning.”

  “Your father informed me that such customs are not observed here. In fact, he insisted you have something a little less harsh for the ball.” She pinched Elizabeth’s cheek as if she were a young girl. “You need to get the color back in your cheeks.”

  “But Mother died less than three months ago.”

  Mrs. Evanston looked sympathetic, but she was fully in her patron’s employ. This was clearly an attempt to pretty up Elizabeth for courtship, but neither her aunt nor Mrs. Evanston could know that they’d selected the exact shade she’d worn the day she’d hoped to win over Rourke O’Malley. The day of the hurricane. The day her brother lost the use of his legs.

  She closed her eyes against the sudden rush of pain.

  Four years ago, chasing after Rourke had wrought disaster. She had proceeded to Charleston as planned rather than fight to stay. This time he was leaving. Miles upon miles of turquoise sea would lie between them. Gone for as long as a year, he’d written. Gone at the very time she needed someone to stand by her side.

  Now she stood alone, unable to hear the music, while the world danced around her.

  14

  Mr. Finch pro
ved as insufferable as Elizabeth had expected. His eyes gleamed when she entered the foyer, even though she was covered from head to toe in black crape thanks to the alterations required on the ball gown.

  “How lovely you are, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed, revealing a bottle-green waistcoat beneath his unbuttoned tailcoat.

  Overdressed yet again. The very sight of him disgusted her. His touch made her skin crawl. She extended a limp hand and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.

  During supper, she nodded and murmured unintelligible responses to his comments without hearing a thing he was saying. Mr. Finch could not compare to Rourke any more than a vulture could pretend to be a magnificent frigate bird. The latter soared high on the breezes, dipping to earth to snatch up a fish or to mate. When would Rourke alight again? Soon, she hoped. A year was far too long to wait when she now knew he loved her.

  Despite Caroline’s misgivings, the only explanation for such a long and indefinite absence was a family crisis. If his mother was ill, he might not return for a very long time. All of his seven siblings were younger than him. Some must still be at home. With his father gone, he would have to take on responsibility for the family. Just like her.

  She glanced at her brother, who shot back an accusatory glare, as if she were to blame for Mr. Finch’s presence. Did Rourke’s brothers and sisters give him the same fits Charlie gave her? Yet Rourke got along famously with her brother. And Father did not object to those visits. Apparently his disapproval of Rourke extended only to her.

  Mr. Finch looked at her as if he’d asked a question.

  She nodded and smiled again.

  Charlie scowled.

  Father grinned and clapped his hands. “Good. It’s settled then. Shall we say seven o’clock? We will want to arrive early with such an announcement to make.”

  “Announcement?” Elizabeth asked, but neither of them appeared to hear her.

  “Excellent.” Father’s pleasure rumbled forth with the addition of a raised wineglass. “I have looked forward to this day for years. We will take my carriage.”

  The air squeezed out of her lungs. “The carriage?” What had she just agreed to?