The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  Maggie had neither seen nor heard from Aaron Stone, and she had to admit that she had foolishly hoped to have some word from him. Thayer Coleman had sent a handwritten message by Phineas earlier in the week, thanking her for her kindness. She should be grateful that the man was ignoring her existence, especially after what had transpired between them at their last meeting. The thought of lying wantonly in his naked arms, while his hungry mouth devoured hers, had caused her several sleepless nights. She had been in the bed with him, had allowed him intimacies only a husband should have known, and then had been shoved from his embrace when the Widow Arnold appeared.

  She had learned more than she wanted to know about Eunice Waite Arnold, the elder daughter of Henry Waite, prosperous lawyer-landowner, whose ancestors had moved to Alabama from Virginia half a century ago. Eunice had money, breeding, and a place in local society. Her marriage to John Arnold, a wealthy young cousin to Thayer Coleman, and his untimely death had elevated her to the highest echelons of respectability in Colbert County.

  Wesley and his mother seemed to know the most intimate details of their neighbors’ lives, and were genuinely piqued that they had no information on Aaron Stone’s past. The air of mystery surrounding him seemed to fascinate the local citizenry. All they appeared to know was that he had a great deal of money. That he had purchased the old White Orchard plantation near Barton, and that he would probably marry Eunice Arnold before the end of the year.

  Maggie had told herself over and over again that she had no right to be jealous. A few stolen kisses did not mean commitment to a man like Aaron. He probably didn’t think of her as a lady who deserved his respect. After all, she hadn’t so much as protested when he’d pulled her into his arms and across his virile body. If she had been a lady, she would have screamed for help instead of responding so shamelessly. She knew Thayer Coleman was aware of what had been going on, and she was sure that Mrs. Arnold was suspicious. If Aunt Tilly were to ever learn the truth, it could mean the end of everything. No doubt, she would condemn Maggie as a harlot.

  She hoped she never saw Aaron Stone again as long as she lived. He could bring her nothing but heartache and trouble. If he would stay away from her, she knew that eventually she would forget him. Forget the sight of his handsome face and muscular body. Forget his earthy male smell. Forget the hot sweetness of his mouth when her tongue had explored it. Forget the caressing sound of his deep voice whispering, “I want to touch you.”

  “Cousin Margaret,” Wesley called, his stout body framed in the doorway of her room. “Judith and I have finished with her reading lesson for today, and I thought you might join me downstairs for some tea.”

  Standing quickly to greet him, Maggie smiled at her cousin-by-marriage. “That sounds quite nice, Cousin Wesley. There are a few things I wish to speak to you about.”

  After straightening the skirt of her gray muslin dress, she joined Wesley at the door, her fingers reaching out to touch the sleeve of his coat. “First, let me thank you again for taking the time to help Judith with her reading and Micah with his arithmetic.”

  “It’s been my pleasure,” he assured her as he placed a fleshy hand on top of hers. “I derive pleasure from seeing you happy, dear Margaret.”

  “Oh, Wesley,” Maggie’s voice lowered. She was touched by his concern. “You’re such a kind man. You’ve helped us all so much.”

  His plump hand squeezed hers gently. “I’m growing quite fond of you, you know. I hope you don’t object.”

  How could she answer him truthfully without hurting his feelings? For over a week now, he had done everything possible to make her feel welcome and at home. He insisted on teaching her siblings until she had acquired enough money to pay for their special schooling. He often smoothed his mother’s ruffled feathers when any one of the Campbells said or did something that upset her, and Judith seemed destined for that purpose. He even saw to it that Daisy had a cot to sleep on. Indeed, Wesley Peterson was a saintly man.

  “We’re all fond of you, too,” Maggie said, smiling at him sweetly.

  After clearing his throat and patting her hand, he asked, “Shall we find Auntie Gem and order that tea?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, following his lead down the short hallway.

  “Judith’s a very bright girl. You did a fine job teaching her the basics.”

  “Well, I just used the Blue Back Speller and McGuffey’s First Reader that my ma used when she taught me,” Maggie said, as they slowly proceeded down the stairs.

  “She seems well versed in the Holy Word, also.”

  “Oh, yes. Pa was mighty stern about our Bible reading and prayers.”

  “As well he should have been. I shall instill a love and respect for our Heavenly Father in my sons and daughters one day if I am so blessed.”

  They entered the back parlor, which Wesley used as his study. Just as he had spoken of his future children, he turned to face Maggie. “You will make a fine mother. You’ve proven your worth with Micah and Judith’s care.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She was certain that he was giving thought to the idea of her being the mother of his children, but she simply could not picture him as the father of hers. Even more, she could not imagine sharing the marriage bed with Wesley. Perhaps if she had not met Aaron Stone, perhaps if the awful man had never kissed her, she wouldn’t constantly compare dear Cousin Wesley to that notorious cad.

  “Speaking of Judith and Micah,” Maggie said, seating herself in a pine rocker near the window. “I will need to know the cost of those schools you mentioned. For Jude, do you recommend the Deshler Institute or Miss Anna Pybas’s school?”

  “Both are fine.” He took a seat in the large oak chair at his desk. “The cost is twelve dollars a month with Miss Pybas. It’s possible that arrangement can be made for you to exchange your sewing skills for part of the tuition.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

  “As for Micah, I highly recommend sending him to Brother Larimore in Florence. Tuition for a twenty-four-week, January-to-June term is one hundred and thirty dollars.”

  “Oh, my,” Maggie said, realizing how unlikely it would be for her to make that much money.

  “January is over six months away,” Wesley said. “I shall, of course, be willing to assist you in making payment.”

  “Oh, no,” Maggie said, her golden eyes flashing with objections. “I could never accept your money.”

  “Perhaps by January, I will have persuaded you to change your mind.”

  Wesley rang the bell for Auntie Gem, but when there was no reply after several summonses, he excused himself to go to the kitchen.

  Maggie was glad that Wesley liked her, but she did not want to encourage anything more. Marrying him could solve most of her problems, but she refused to ruin both of their lives in order to keep her promise to Pa. There had to be other ways to give Micah an education and see that he was set up in a well-paying, respectable profession. But how would she ever come up with enough money to educate both her siblings? Jude just had to become a lady, one who would be able to choose any fine gentleman she wanted for a husband.

  Pa had regretted not being able to do more for them, but after Ma died he had never been the same. Mary Campbell, with her beautiful smile and happy laugh, had enriched their poverty-stricken lives. Never once had Maggie heard her mother complain about her lot in life. And she could have. She had been born the daughter of a prosperous blacksmith and sister to a now-successful merchant. Her entire life had changed when she had run off with wild, redheaded Jimmy Campbell to live a life of drudgery on a Tennessee farm.

  Maggie wanted a better life for them all, but she would not marry a man she didn’t love in order to do it. Her parents had been poor, but even as a child she had known that they were deeply in love. She could remember the way her ma looked at Pa. Her eyes would go all warm and soft as if she were about to cry, but they were filled with love. And Pa would touch Ma with such tenderness. A hug around the shoulders. A pat o
n the hand. A caress across her cheek. Maggie wanted a man to love her like that. Stupidly, she had dreamed of Aaron Stone being her true love.

  She knew she was half in love with the man already. Why couldn’t her foolish heart beat faster when Wesley looked at her, spoke her name, touched her. Why did it have to be Aaron? Wesley would be far more suitable as a mate. He was kind, helpful, respectful, and would most certainly offer marriage before trying to make love to her.

  Aaron Stone was a man practically betrothed to another woman, a man who would never offer marriage to a girl of Maggie’s circumstances. He had flirted with her, toyed with her emotions, and made unseemly advances, with no thought of her good name. He was a dangerous man, one to be avoided at all costs.

  Thayer Coleman leaned back in the brown leather wing chair and downed the last drops of coffee from the Haviland cup. Aaron Stone sat across from him in an identical chair, puffing on a cigar while he gazed distractedly out the long, narrow window of his friend’s town house library.

  Aaron like the comfortable camaraderie he shared with the younger man whose hospitality he had been enjoying for eleven months now. The two men had met five years ago at the Point Clear Hotel on the gulf when Thayer had been a young pup of nineteen, eager to sample all of life’s forbidden fruits. Aaron had been a willing teacher, and soon the two men were sharing wine, women, and adventures. Besides the two of them only Phineas and Thayer’s family knew the bitter secret that had brought them together.

  Aaron stretched out his long legs, crossing his black-booted feet at the ankles. “I received a message from Buckley in Anniston. He thinks our visit last month proved our determination to have a say in the way things are done down there.”

  “I received a message concerning our trip too.” Thayer chuckled, remembering all the dances he had shared with a blue-eyed enchantress. “It was a sweet note from Miss Eloise.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Aaron laughed, tossing his cigar butt into a nearby brass spittoon. “After all, I did dance several times with the lovely Miss Eloise the night of the Anniston Inn’s grand opening.”

  “She was the belle of the ball,” Thayer said. “However, I was the lucky man allowed to call on her the next day.”

  “I think her mother was impressed with your name. She had known your parents, hadn’t she?”

  “Oh, yes. Mrs. Stafford couldn’t say enough about Colonel and Mrs. Coleman.”

  “I can think the lady had marriage in mind for you and her daughter.”

  “I can think of a worse fate.” Thayer smiled, the memory of Eloise’s delicate china-doll face flashing through his mind. “In a few years, I might be inclined to marry.”

  “The time comes for all of us. You’re young yet. You need to bed whores and raise hell a few more years.”

  Thayer laughed, reaching to pour himself more coffee. “I should think you’d reconsider marriage to Eunice after meeting Miss Maggie. And after getting shot by Sally’s pa, you shouldn’t be encouraging me to bed more whores.”

  “If you’d stay with the ladies at Loretta’s, you wouldn’t have irate fathers trying to kill you and hitting me by mistake.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Thayer grinned, his dark eyes full of mischief. “Now about our lovely Miss Campbell.”

  “Our?”

  “If you’re not interested, I am.” Thayer noted the tightening of his friend’s square jaw and saw the slightest glint of anger in his green eyes.

  “Maggie isn’t the girl for either of us,” Aaron stated, uncrossing his long legs and standing his big body facing the window. He would not allow himself to think any more about that redheaded witch who had haunted his dreams and tormented his every waking moment. “I spoke to the marshal about Whitcomb. He thinks we have to press charges and go through a trial, or the man will be after you again.”

  “Old Whitcomb is crazy,” Thayer said, his black eyes narrowing to a squint. “Sally may be sixteen, but she’s been whoring for years. She told me she had her first man when she was twelve. Can you imagine? She wasn’t much older than little Judith Campbell.”

  “Hell,” Aaron said, turning to face the other man. “I don’t want to hear any more about the Campbells. Leave well enough alone.”

  “Why don’t you admit that Maggie stirs your blood like Eunice never has?”

  “Dammit, Thayer, a man wants more from a wife than a good roll in the hay.” Aaron’s big hand ran through his long, tawny hair. “I need a wife who can give me social position and respectability.”

  “I was born with everything you want so badly, my friend.” Thayer placed the cup on his desk and looked up at his agitated companion. “I would exchange it all for the right woman. Especially a woman like Maggie.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. No matter who you marry, you’ll always be a Coleman.”

  “And no matter who you marry, you’ll always be Richard Leander’s bastard.”

  If any other man had dared refer to him in such a manner, Aaron would have been tempted to call him out, or, if in a black mood, would have killed him on the spot. But Thayer was his best friend, a man who would never defame him. He knew the words had been spoken to force him to reconsider the decisions he’d had made.

  “Eunice need never know the truth about my past. She seems willing to accept me at face value.”

  “You’d want to share the rest of your life with a woman to whom you couldn’t tell the truth about yourself?”

  “You’ve been against my courting Eunice from the beginning. Why? Is it because her husband was your cousin?”

  “Damn stupid question,” Thayer snapped. “John Arnold was a fine man. The perfect match for Eunice. He was charming, soft-spoken, and gentle. An undemanding, young boy. You’re far too much man for the widow. You’ll scare the hell out of her on your wedding night.”

  “I have the good sense to know not to treat Eunice like a whore.”

  “I happen to know, on the word of some married men, that the happiest marriages are the ones where the wives enjoy their duties as much as their husbands do.”

  “Who, pray tell, is your source?”

  “Martin, for one.”

  “Martin!” Aaron said. “Your brother-in-law actually spoke about your sister in such a manner?”

  “I admit he was drunk at the time he was extolling Reba’s womanly talents.”

  “She would have his hide nailed to the barn door if she knew.”

  “You’ll have a chance to tell her,” Thayer told his friend who had just walked to the window, something outside catching his attention. “They’re all coming to Silver Hill for the summer.”

  “Martha too?”

  “Of course, Mama will be with them. Now that Reba is carrying her third child, she wanted Mama to stay with her for a while.”

  “It will be good to see your family again,” Aaron said as he watched Phineas outside in the backyard where he stood talking to Daisy.

  “They’re your family, too. They will accept you, if you’ll accept them.”

  Aaron had no family, except Thayer’s. He had no parents, not brothers, no aunts and uncles eager to accept him.

  Since the day his mother died when he was sixteen, he had been alone. Perhaps he had always been alone, even before Louise Stone had been killed in August of 1871 when an explosion had wrecked the Ocean Wave, a steamer on which she and her lover had booked passage. When Aaron had visited Point Clear five years ago, parts of the wrecked steamer could still be seen on the bay shore at low tide. Although he had known where she died, how she died, and with whom she died, he had waited nearly ten years to visit the site and seek revenge.

  There had been no revenge, only a bittersweet regret when he found out all the truths that had been a mystery to him for so many years. Martha Coleman had given him his birthright, and it had made him determined to acquire the respectability and social position always denied him. He had already made a small fortune, mostly by unscrupulous and often illegal means, when
he met the Colemans. Since then, he had invested his “ill-gotten gains” in timber, cotton, steamboats, and the new steel industry.

  “What seems to be fascinating you outside the window?” Thayer asked, standing, but still unable to see around his friend’s big body.

  Moving slightly, to allow Thayer full view of the backyard, Aaron replied, “I was watching Phineas. He’s taken quite a liking to that Daisy girl. I’ve never seen him so smitten.”

  “You have to admit that she is a beautiful creature,” Thayer remarked, watching the lovely Negress as she smiled at the huge black man holding her hand. “I dare say Phineas is in love. Surely you understand how he feels, having been smitten so recently yourself.”

  “Leave it be, man!” Aaron hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Deny it all you want, but I’ve seen the way you look at her. And I was there at the train station when you had to be prized from her arms.”

  “The girl was in shock. A wounded man had just fallen on her.”

  “Tell it to somebody who didn’t walk in on the two of you the day I tried to keep Eunice out of your hotel room.”

  Aaron could feel a heated flush creeping up his neck. He refused to admit any feelings for Maggie Campbell, neither to himself nor his best friend.

  “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and that’s all there is to it. I have no feeling for her other than lust, and even you would know that she’s hardly the type I can bed and forget.”

  “I’ll wager that you can’t forget about her anyway.” Thayer put a hand on his friend’s big shoulder. “You owe it to yourself and Maggie, and even to Eunice, to find out what your true feelings are before you propose to the wrong woman.”

  “Just what are you suggesting?”

  “I think you should become better acquainted with Miss Maggie. I’ll bet that once you know her better, you’ll be wanting to spend the rest of your life with her.”

  “Dammit, man, she is not the woman for me.”