Elizabeth tried to steer the conversation to safer ground. She asked about Max’s mother, his car, anything to keep him and Simon from sparring.
Finally, blessedly, the dinner ended. Now, she just needed to get this party train back to the station with as little blood spilled as possible.
When they arrived back at Mrs. Eldridge’s house the tension was as thick as the evening fog. The two men escorted her to the front door. Max took her hand and kissed it as he bowed, bidding her goodnight.
Simon kept his distance and stared at her for a long moment. His expression said everything he couldn’t. He bowed curtly and headed back down the walk without so much as a word.
She wanted to call out to him, to invite him inside. But judging from his body language, he needed some time to unwind. He was cranky, and she could hardly blame him. If their positions had been reversed, the cat would have had claws. As they say, tomorrow was another day. And, she guessed from the milkman’s wagon that clattered down the street, only a few hours away.
“Give you a lift, old man?” Max said to Simon.
“No, thank you.”
Max shrugged and started up his car. With a loud backfire that cut into the quiet, he drove off.
“Goodnight, Simon,” Elizabeth said.
Simon lingered at the end of the walk for a long moment. He looked like he was about to say something when he mumbled a goodnight, stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed off into the cold night.
***
Elizabeth undressed and slipped into her silk nightgown, which was actually fancier than any dress she’d ever owned. She hated sleeping in something she was afraid to wrinkle. The floor was chilly under her feet as she walked across the room to close the heavy drapes. She had a beautiful view of the side garden. The moon hung just over the large Magnolia tree that stood sentinel in the side yard. Oversized white blossoms caught the moonlight.
Something tinked against the glass of her window and made her jump. The hell? There it was again. She peered out into the darkness and saw a shadowy figure step out from under the Magnolia tree. There was no mistaking who it was—Simon.
Quickly, she undid the window lock and raised the lower sash. An absurd image of him holding a boombox over his head as a Peter Gabriel song played flashed into her mind. Of course, in this case it would probably be a Victrola playing Rachmaninoff.
She started to call out to him, but realized how late it was and waved a hand indicating that he should wait there.
As quickly and as quietly as she could, she made her way down stairs and slipped out the side door. She hurried across the cold, dewy grass.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“About bloody time. I’ve thrown half the rocks in the yard.”
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head and reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “No,” he said a bit hoarsely. “No. I just…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head again.
His strong hands held her arms and pulled her into his embrace. His arms circled her and held her to his chest. His clothes were chilled and damp from the night air. She could feel as much as hear his deep sigh.
When they pulled apart, Elizabeth rested her hands against his chest. He looked at her in that way that always made her heart skip a beat—tender, intense, absolute.
Elizabeth felt a surge of guilt. She knew she’d made the right decision. He could have come with her and chose not to. And yet…
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said as she leaned into his warmth. Simon was always warm. Her own personal heater.
“Yes, you are,” he said covering her hand with both of his. “Back inside, your hands are ice cold.”
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment and then said, “Come with me.”
Simon shook his head. “I should go. I just needed to see you again.”
She spread out her arms in display. “Behold the Elizabeth.”
Simon chuckled, but it faded quickly. “There is one favor I’d like to ask though. Harrington.”
“He’s harmless.”
“But you’re not.”
“Me?” She hadn’t done anything. What on earth was he talking about?
“He’s falling in love with you.”
Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. “It’s been two days.”
Simon shrugged. “You’re potent.”
It took her a second to realize that Simon was completely serious. “He’s just flirting.” A lot.
“Perhaps,” Simon said. “And if he isn’t?” He let the question hang in the air between them.
“Then I’m being unfair to him, aren’t I? Because there’s only one man I love. Only one man I’ll ever love.”
Simon nodded almost imperceptibly.
“That’s you, by the way.”
She smothered his smile with another kiss.
His hand came up to cup her cheek and he pulled back. “You’re freezing. You should go inside,” Simon said rubbing her arms gently.
“Come with me.” She wanted him. She wanted to wake up next him again.
Simon smiled. “I don’t think Gerald would approve,” he said with a nod of his head toward the side door.
Standing in the shadow of the doorway was Gerald, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Elizabeth had to laugh. “He’s just looking out for me. He means well.”
“In that case, give him my thanks.”
“He’ll love that,” she said with a laugh.
Simon turned her slightly to obscure Gerald’s view and then caressed her cheek gently and kissed her once more. “Goodnight, love.”
But he didn’t let go and she didn’t want him to. She could see his struggle and, despite what he’d said, she wasn’t sure he could let her go. Unless she wanted to spend the night standing out here in her shift, it was up to her. She savored the last bit of his warmth and eased back out of his arms.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, letting her hand linger on his chest. “Just the two of us this time. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Elizabeth gave him a sly little smile. “I hope you do.”
His eyes narrowed and she thought she heard him groan. “Goodnight, Simon,” she said and then walked back across the lawn to the door and past a scowling Gerald.
“Goodnight, Gerald,” she said without pause or explanation. She started up the back stairs but heard him grumble, “Englishmen.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I hate you,” Elizabeth said.
The corset didn’t reply. She hadn’t wanted to call the maid for help and nearly dislocated her shoulder tightening the laces herself. It was a cruel trick to keep women needy, she thought. Someone who can’t even get dressed by themselves is bound to rely on others for everything. Suffrage couldn’t come too soon.
She was just opening her door when Jane, the young maid of the house, scurried up to her.
“Good day, Miss,” she said bobbing in a quick curtsy. “Mr. Foster was looking for you.”
Gerald. She had a sinking feeling he was going to give her a lecture about what proper ladies did and didn’t do including meeting men in the middle of the night in nothing but their shifts.
He might have been the butler, but he was the lord of the manor in every other way. Mrs. Eldridge had even assured her that she and Gerald had no secrets from each other.
“Where is he?”
“He’s in his rooms, Miss. I was just bringing him these,” she said holding out a stack of neatly folded laundry.
“I’ll take them.”
“But, Miss—”
“His rooms are upstairs?”
“Yes, Miss, first on the right, but—”
Elizabeth took the laundry. “Thank you, Jane.”
She started up the stairs and suddenly felt like she was going to the principal’s office or worse yet, her father’s room for a serious talking to. She knocked on h
is door.
“Come.”
Elizabeth opened the door and peeked inside. The room was fairly simple and Spartan, except for a portrait of President Roosevelt that hung above a small desk. Gerald sat on the edge of his bed, one trouser leg rolled up to his thigh. The stump of what had been his right leg poked out like a red, pinched and angry face.
She’d noticed his limp before, but it had never occurred to her that he might be…this. Whatever injury had caused the amputation had long since healed, but the end of it still looked raw and painful. She tried not to stare it at, but the harder she tried the more magnetic it became.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said.
Gerald looked up and his expression darkened. He stood on his one good leg and glared at her, his face turning a dark ruddy red. “What are you doing here? Don’t they teach manners when you come from?”
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said again. She held out the laundry. “Jane was bringing these and…please, sit down.”
Trying not to look at his leg, she set the laundry down on the bed next to him. She didn’t know what to say or where to look. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Jane said you were looking for me.”
When she noticed the lotions and fresh stockings, she mumbled another apology and started for the door. He’d obviously been tending to his leg when she came in.
“Do you always barge in where you’re not welcome?”
Elizabeth turned back and answered without thinking. “Yes. At least that’s what people tell me.”
Gerald glared at her. Even in this state, he was an imposing man. His red hair seemed to grow a brighter shade with his anger. And then, slowly, the hard line of his mouth quivered and the corners turned up in a smile. Finally, a deep, booming laugh escaped. It was a wonderful sound, rich and deep and from the heart.
“Good. I like an honest woman.”
“And I like a forgiving man,” she said.
He laughed again, but this time there was no joy it. “I’m hardly that.”
“Well, you haven’t thrown me out.”
“Yet,” he said, but she could see the smile in his eyes. He gestured to a chair by the bed. “Are you going to sit or do I have to keep standing on my one good leg forever?”
Elizabeth sat down so quickly she nearly missed the chair. The room wasn’t as impersonal as she’d first thought. A few small photographs sat in silver frames on a dresser and there were lots and lots of books.
She could feel him staring at her. She was trying not to look at his leg, but her eyes kept falling on it. The tip of it poked out from his pant leg. “Does it hurt much?”
“Some days.” He picked up his prosthetic leg and turned it over in his hands. It looked heavy and had a large leather thigh brace, sort of like a corset for the upper-leg with thick laces and steel joints. Just below the knee there was a hollow wooden calf with a semi-articulated rubber foot. “Better than the alternative.”
He put the leg down on the bed. “Getting a Winkley next time. This one’s starting to chafe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Unless you were manning a British cannon at Stoney Creek, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he said as he rolled down his pant leg. “But you don’t want to hear about that.”
She did. But she wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her. In an attempt to change the topic, she blurted out, “Last night wasn’t what you thought it was.”
If he was surprised by the sudden change in topic, he didn’t show it. “Wasn’t it?”
“Okay, it was.” She hadn’t done anything to apologize for. What she did was her business after all. “I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of floozy.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, girl.”
She didn’t and yet, she wanted to. She had no reason for it, but she wanted Gerald to understand. He was a curmudgeon, difficult to read and never what she expected. But, she liked him. He was one of those men who didn’t give his approval easily and so it meant all the more when you earned it.
“I know,” she said. “I have issues.” When it was clear he had no idea what that meant, she quickly added, “Missing parts, you know, little emotional scars.”
Gerald stared at her for a long moment seeming to see right into her soul. “Some wounds never heal. You just learn to live with them.”
Elizabeth was suddenly embarrassed at how painfully transparent she was. “Jane said you were looking for me.”
“A messenger came this morning with an invitation for you.”
“Who’s it from?”
“I don’t read other people’s mail.” He picked up one of the stockings and started to dress his leg. Apparently, he was finished with her. She sat there like a dope for a moment waiting for what she didn’t know and then finally stood.
“Thank you.” She opened the door and started to leave, but his voice stopped her.
“I don’t, by the way.”
“Don’t what?”
“Think you’re a floozy,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Not that it matters.”
She smiled back. “It matters a little.”
***
The invitation was from Victor Graham. She and a guest were cordially invited to a dinner party at their home that evening. Judging from the little cable car shindig Graham had thrown at the Cliff House, this little dinner party was going to be of the ultra swanky variety and she wanted to make sure she could swank right along with the best of them.
Simon had dutifully waited in the other room while she had her measurements taken, retaken, clucked about and jotted down. He sat patiently during her endless dress fittings. He played the perfect boyfriend while she looked for the perfect accessories. Sadly, when it came to jewelry she was way, way out of her depth.
Magritte’s Jewelers served only the poshiest of the posh. She’d never owned anything real and even her fakes were bad fakes. Not that she would have bought a lot of jewelry even if she’d had the money. But, as she looked down at a case full of sparkly things, one or two sparkles wouldn’t have killed her.
Most of the jewelry was overly ornate, just like nearly everything else in Victorian and Edwardian America. If they could embellish it they did and then they did it again. Still, some of the jewelry was gorgeous. The rings with yellow or rose-gold with a big, but not Texas big, diamond were beautiful. There was one with a simple setting that whispered her name.
“Elizabeth?”
She jumped at the voice.
“See anything you like?” Simon asked at her side.
Her eyes lingered on the solitaire and she felt suddenly silly and embarrassed. None of this was for her. “It’s fun to look, but I’m sure Mrs. Eldridge has something I can borrow. I’m not the diamonds type anyway.”
Simon looked like he was going to argue the point and part of her wished he would, but he just nodded and asked her where else she needed to go.
Their shopping trip took the better part of the day. When they’d finally finished, the carriage was filled with huge boxes. Plastic bags hadn’t appeared on the scene and so every purchase was wrapped carefully and placed in a ridiculously large box and tied up with string. It was like being inside Santa’s bag.
Shopping wasn’t the only thing that took forever. Getting ready for an elegant dinner was hard work. Her hair was being argumentative and it took over an hour to show it just who was boss.
Little Jane had tried to convince her that face enamel was the makeup for any lady of the day, but Mrs. Eldridge had, thankfully, put the kibosh on that. A little eye pencil, rouge and lip-rouge would be more than enough.
After half an hour of piling on layer after torturous layer of undergarments Elizabeth was ready for her dress. It was even more frightening than the prospect of enameling her face, whatever that was. The dress was probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and she was sure she was going to look like a fool in it.
It was gold satin-velvet with lace insets and velvet appliques. The bodice
was golden draped chiffon with a sweetheart neckline. Elizabeth picked up the train she knew she would eventually trip over and looked in the mirror. She’d felt like an idiot when Jane had helped her on with it, but now seeing herself, it was like her fairy godmother had bopped her on the head. A beautiful, if not completely confident woman, stared back at her.
She put on the gold filigree and pearl necklace and matching earrings Mrs. Eldridge loaned her and was ready to make her grand entrance. She stood at the top of the stairs to catch her breath, but the way Simon looked wasn’t helping. Confident, dapper and seriously en fuego. She’d always thought tails were kind of silly, but on Simon silly wasn’t the word that came to mind. “Hot damn” summed it up nicely.
She put a hand on the banister and started down the stairs. In the movies, the heroine always glided down the stairs so gracefully. Props to them, because it wasn’t easy. Effortless grace took a lot of work. She tried to keep her eyes on Simon, but she nearly missed a step and tightened her death grip on the banister. Effortless was definitely out of reach. At this point, she’d happily settle for not going ass over teakettle.
“So beautiful,” Simon said as he took her hand and helped her down the last few steps.
“It is, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said smoothing down the silk skirt.
“I wasn’t talking about the dress, Elizabeth.”
No matter how often he complimented her, it still caught her off guard.
Simon leaned in close. “How important is it that we’re on time?” He kissed her cheek and then her neck. “Would they miss us if we were an hour or two late?”
She managed not to lose all of her focus. “That might be pushing it.”
He nibbled on the nape of her neck. “Twenty minutes?”
“You’re a very bad man.”
“I’m trying to be.”
The carriage ride to the Graham’s took all of two minutes which was a good thing considering they were running fifteen minutes late. They lived just a few blocks over on the knob of Nob Hill. She’d thought Mrs. Eldridge house was big, but the Graham’s was Big Four big. This was the sort of place she expected a robber baron like Crocker to live in. Maybe Mary’s father had been one of the railroad kings.
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