Fancy turned her face into the hard strength of Jeff’s shoulder and wished that she’d been born a lady. Still, echoes from the near future assaulted her … “It will never last, you know—she’s not good enough for him—she was born in Newcastle and her mother is a washer woman—you did notice, didn’t you, that she isn’t wearing a wedding ring?”
Somehow, the cacophonous rhythm of the train put Fancy to sleep. The voices followed, taking on disapproving faces.
“Jeffrey Corbin, it is you!”
The trilling exclamation at first seemed to be part of Fancy’s bad dream. When she opened her eyes with a start, however, she found that the speaker was all too real.
A gloriously beautiful woman with titian hair had materialized in the seat facing Jeff’s, wide green eyes all but devouring him.
“Hello, Meredith,” Jeff said evenly.
The lush Meredith rewarded the greeting with a blinding smile. Fancy felt about as much a part of the gathering as the ugly rose cabbage pattern of the train seats. “Tell me you’re on your way to Spokane, darling!” the vision enjoined.
Jeff’s arm didn’t hold Fancy quite so close as before, it seemed to her. “All right, Meredith,” he answered. “We’re on our way to Spokane.”
Meredith’s eyes widened; it was clear that she hadn’t noticed that Jeff wasn’t alone until that moment. Surreptitiously, her gaze dropped to Fancy’s bare left-hand ring finger before it could be hidden. “I’m Meredith Whittaker.”
Fancy sat up very straight. “Frances Corbin,” she replied. The look on Meredith’s face was a delight.
“You’re married?” she asked of Jeff, looking wounded.
Jeff simply nodded. Fancy might have wished for a more enthusiastic response, but she had to be content with the fact that he had, at least, acknowledged her.
Slightly pale, Meredith took in Fancy’s cascading hair and star-spangled dress. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured.
“Believe it,” said Fancy.
Jeff gave her an amused, sidelong look but said nothing.
Meredith was more than willing to fill the breach. “I hear that Adam is married now, too,” she said quickly and with some surprise. “What’s her name again? Something odd—”
“Banner,” Jeff replied shortly. Fancy instantly tensed at the name. Merciful heavens, she had yet to meet her sister-in-law and already she hated her.
“That’s right,” sang Meredith. “Banner. Mother met her when last she saw Katherine in Port Hastings, and she was very impressed.”
“It’s impossible not to be impressed by Banner,” Jeff answered, and Fancy was stung anew.
Meredith seemed to be at a loss, too. She stood up, looking a mite nervous, and excused herself with a few polite words and a promise to come calling as soon as Jeff and “Frances” were settled.
“Whoopee,” breathed Jeff, removing his arm from around Fancy’s shoulders and sitting back in the train seat in an attitude of unperturbed relaxation.
“What does she look like?” Fancy asked, in a small voice.
Jeff closed his eyes and sighed. “Who?”
“Banner.”
His jawline tightened momentarily, but his eyes remained closed. “She has red hair and green eyes,” he answered in weary tones.
“Like Meredith?” dared Fancy.
“Meredith pales by comparison.”
“Oh,” mourned Fancy, turning to look out the window. The wheat fields were far behind now, having given way to a rocky, desolate terrain.
After a time, Fancy slept again. She dreamed that she had just borne Jeff a child, a healthy daughter. “Look,” said the doctor, who had no face. And Jeff and Fancy looked, seeing their baby girl wearing a tiny black dress with stars affixed to it.
Fancy was glad to awaken until she realized that the train was approaching Spokane and she was alone. Panic, partly spawned by her silly dream, swelled into her throat.
A scarecrow-thin woman across the aisle noticed her distress and promptly added to it, clearly disapproving of Fancy. “If you’re wondering where your man went,” she imparted with relish, “he’s up in the next car with that society lady.”
Though she was wilting inwardly, Fancy would have died before letting the crone know it. “Thank you,” she said, turning to look out the window.
Spokane was a good-sized city, though not as big as Seattle by any means, and it sat down in a valley. There were many evergreen trees, even though the community was surrounded by prairie, and, as the tracks descended, Fancy could see a river sweeping through the center of town.
An impressive brick tower with a clock in its top rose up out of the railroad yard, but the other buildings were mostly of wood.
The thinly cushioned train seat gave a little as Jeff sat down next to Fancy. She pretended rapt interest in the view and bit back all the questions she wanted to ask about what he’d been discussing with Meredith Whittaker in the next car.
He seemed to read as much from the set of her shoulders and the determined upward tilt of her head. “Frances,” he said quietly.
Fancy ignored him. So Meredith resembled Banner, did she? No wonder he’d been so anxious to spend time with the woman.
“Turn around and look at me.”
She turned, her eyes bright with angry tears. Tears she had not even realized were there. If he asked her what was the matter, she was going to scream.
“You’re tired,” Jeff said sympathetically. “After what you’ve been through in the past few days, I’m not surprised.”
Fancy clasped her hands together in her lap. “Temple didn’t catch us, at least,” she said, trying to look on the bright side. She did have something of a tendency to let her emotions run away with her, where this man was concerned, anyway, and she was determined not to make that mistake again.
“Don’t assume that we won’t have to deal with him,” Jeff warned in response. “If I’ve learned one thing in the last twenty years, it’s never to underestimate Temple Royce.”
Fancy closed her eyes. And, unbidden, the memory of Temple gloating over the destruction of Jeff’s ship came to her mind, filling it to the breaking point. “Jeff,” she began shakily, “I—in Port Hastings—”
She could feel Jeff’s sudden alertness even before she looked and saw it in his face. “Yes?” he prompted gravely.
“I—” Fancy paused, swallowing hard.
“Temple—” The train whistle shrieked suddenly and there was a sensation of impending collision as the wheels were thrust into reverse, screeching along the metal tracks. Before Fancy could regroup her meager forces and go on, Meredith lurched elegantly up the aisle. “My carriage is here,” she said, her green eyes warm as a caress on Jeff’s face. “Won’t you let me drop you off?”
Jeff’s lips moved in an inaudible curse, but he stood up and favored Meredith with a cordial nod. “Thank you,” he bit out. “That would be convenient.”
Fancy’s intention to confess what she knew about the sinking of the Sea Mistress was washed away on a tide of fresh humiliation. How could Jeff have agreed to let that woman escort them home in her carriage? Fancy was embarrassed enough by her appearance—now she would have to collect Hershel and explain why she happened to have a rabbit in her possession!
“A rabbit!” cried Meredith when Jeff had fetched the caged creature and brought it to the fore. “Good heavens, what do you want with a thing like that?”
Standing there in the railroad yard of a strange city, Fancy closed her eyes for a fraction of a second and blushed for considerably longer. By this time tomorrow, every socialite in Spokane would have heard about Mrs. Jeff Corbin’s pet rodent.
Jeff laid a reassuring hand on Fancy’s shoulder. “Why does anybody have a rabbit, Meredith?” he asked, stalling.
“Why, indeed?” Meredith pressed.
Fancy wanted to cry. Again. She was too tired and too undone to hide what she did for a living, social acceptability be hanged. “I—”
Jeff’s arm w
as a steely support around her waist. “Hershel is a pet, Meredith,” he said, his tones brooking no further questions. “If you object to his riding in your carriage—”
“Oh, no—of course not!” Meredith cried quickly. “There it is, over there. Herbert! Oh, Herbert!”
Fancy, grateful for the rescue, followed Meredith’s gaze and saw a glistening black carriage attended by a driver. Herbert, no doubt, she thought wearily.
Jeff was standing beside her, and he jolted her out of her lethargy by giving her bottom a surreptitious squeeze and whispering, “This too shall pass. I promise.”
Fancy laughed in spite of herself and managed an affronted scowl. “Keep your hands to yourself,” she whispered.
He pinched her again as he handed her up into the elegantly appointed carriage after Meredith. Hershel had already been consigned to a compartment in the back.
“I’ve got so much luggage, Herbert!” wailed the sweetly weary Miss Whittaker. “Come back for it later, won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” came the desultory reply, from the carriage box.
Jeff got in and sat down beside Fancy, looking innocent and yet mischievous. He folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “That’s the advantage of traveling light,” he remarked, to no one in particular. “You just pack up your rabbit and you’re off. It does save wear and tear on the servants, too.”
Meredith looked confused, as though she didn’t know whether she was being mocked or not. Fancy smiled, knowing that she was.
As they drove out of the noisy and bustling railroad yard, Fancy silently berated herself for being nasty. She had no real reason to dislike Meredith, and taking pleasure in her discomfort, however moderate, was wrong.
Meredith recovered quickly. “I told Herbert to stop at Corbin House,” she informed Jeff, “but won’t you reconsider and come have supper with us? Mother will be perishing to meet the new Mrs. Corbin and—”
“No,” Jeff broke in, with polite firmness. “Not tonight.”
A vague, heated memory was triggered within Fancy. She looked out at Spokane, busy even in the gathering dusk, and instead of buggies, board sidewalks, telegraph poles, and buildings, she saw Jeff putting on his trousers that morning in Isabella’s spare room. “Tonight,” he’d said, giving the word scandalous meaning.
Fancy shivered with a sort of delicious dread. No matter how many more Merediths she had to face, no matter how intimidating the august “Corbin House” turned out to be, she did have the unsettling comfort of knowing that Jeff would soon be loving her, with his body if not his heart.
As if to acknowledge these unspoken thoughts, Jeff casually squeezed her knee. An anticipatory jolt went through Fancy and he seemed aware of that, too.
The inside of that carriage fairly crackled. Blessedly, Meredith hadn’t noticed; her chatter went on and on, and Fancy, looking ahead to the night, paid scant attention. She wondered how Hershel was faring in the compartment, but not with much interest. She was too conscious of the man sitting next to her for that.
“Yes,” Meredith went on, her words finally penetrating Fancy’s distracted and bedazzled mind, “I know just the dressmaker for you, Frances. She’ll take you in hand and you’ll be presentable in no time!”
Presentable! The word struck Fancy with the force of a blow, but she had no time to respond to the remark because Jeff beat her to it.
“My wife is already ‘presentable,’” he said, putting a cold and measured emphasis on the first two words.
The carriage was lurching and shifting up a steep hill. Fancy found herself hoping that Hershel would throw up in the luggage compartment.
Meredith was quick to regroup. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said sweetly.
The lie was obvious, but Fancy didn’t see a need to point that out. Jeff’s glare said he knew it already.
“Well, you did ask me to help her along!” Meredith wailed, sounding put upon.
Fancy was suddenly rigid, her gaze boring into Jeff’s face. He wouldn’t look at her, and his jaw was rock-hard, imperious. “You asked her to what?!” she demanded.
Now, Jeff met her eyes. His face was taut and his gaze freezing cold. “Meredith is familiar with Spokane,” he replied reasonably, “and you are not. Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea if she introduced you—”
“If she ‘helped me along,’ you mean!” Fancy broke in, seeing the warning in his face and ignoring it all the same. “You can’t have me going around witlessly buying more dresses with stars stuck all over them, now can you?!”
“That,” Jeff said evenly, “will be enough.”
Remembering Meredith and how gleefully she would recount this episode, Fancy subsided. “I will deal with you later,” she said, with tremulous dignity.
“Not in the way you think,” Jeff replied.
Meredith was fairly bursting, but she tried to look as though she hadn’t heard any of the conversation. In fact, she spoke as though the entire incident had never taken place at all. “Blue would be a wonderful color for you, Frances—”
“I hate to be called Frances,” Fancy put in. It was a small defiance but the taste of it was sweet.
She felt Jeff’s gaze touch her; it seared her flesh and then, conversely, raised goosebumps. One very long minute later, the carriage lurched to a sudden halt and Herbert was jumping down to open the door.
“I’ll thank you to remember your principles,” Fancy said to her husband in a terse whisper when they had both alighted and Jeff had reclaimed Hershel.
“Good-bye, Frances!” sang Meredith, from the interior of the carriage. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Seething, Fancy put out her tongue at the retreating vehicle.
“You’ll thank me to remember what principles?” Jeff drawled furiously, as he gripped her elbow in one hand and propelled her toward a sprawling two-story frame house with green shutters and windows spilling squares of golden light onto the lawn.
Fancy knew that she was on dangerous ground, but the knowledge that Jeff had thought her incapable of buying clothes without Meredith’s advice stung so badly that she didn’t care. “What principles, indeed?” she snapped. “I’m quite sure you don’t have any!”
“Some of them are a little strained at the moment!” Jeff snarled back, settling Hershel’s cage down on the front porch and turning the bell knob with a furious twist of one wrist. “Particularly the one about beating you!”
The front door swung open before Fancy could reply and a middle-aged woman filled the golden gap, peering out in surprise. “Jeff? Good heavens, is that you?”
“I think so, Miriam,” Jeff replied crisply, “but, at the moment, I’m not entirely sure.”
Miriam laughed delightedly and stepped back. “Walter!” she shouted, as Jeff literally flung his bride over the threshhold. “Look who’s here! Little Jeffrey!”
Despite the obvious perils of such an act, Fancy couldn’t help laughing. “Little Jeffrey,” she mimicked, giving the giant beside her a scornful look.
With frightening speed, Jeff wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Once again, she found herself pressed sideways against his hip. Fancy was mortified and she gulped miserably as he started toward a nearby stairway, his strides ominously long.
“Jeffrey Allen Corbin,” Miriam interceded with crisp dispatch, “you put that young lady down this instant!”
To Fancy’s eternal surprise, Jeffrey obeyed.
Chapter Twelve
FANCY WAS A LITTLE UNCERTAIN ON HER FEET, AND SHE looked anxiously from Miriam to Jeff. Saying anything more could only get her into trouble again, so she bit her lower lip and remained silent.
“Now,” said Miriam, imperiously, her hands on her box-shaped hips, “what’s going on here?”
Jeff looked furious, but he answered in civil tones. “Miriam, this is my wife—Frances.”
“Fancy,” dared said wife, though only in a whisper.
“Wife!” Miriam literally
clapped her hands. “And all this time we thought you were married to the sea! Walter! Walter, Jeffrey’s married!”
Jeff rolled his eyes heavenward and Fancy permitted herself a giggle. Walter, a white-haired man with a marked limp and clear blue eyes, stumped into the entryway. “What’s that you say?” He paused. “Why, it’s Keith!”
“No,” corrected Miriam patiently. “This is Jeffrey. And here’s his pretty bride, too! Isn’t she a sight for sore eyes, Walter?”
“Bride!” boomed Walter with glee. “See, Miriam? I told you the Corbin boys was all too much like their daddy to stay single!”
Fancy stifled another giggle, but she couldn’t resist darting one sidelong look at Jeff. He was fuming.
“We’re hungry,” he bit out, taking Fancy’s elbow in a firm grip and double-stepping her toward the stairway. “Please prepare something immediately.”
“Certainly, Jeffrey,” sang Miriam, clearly unintimidated. “Land sakes, imagine you married.”
“Imagine,” muttered Fancy, grinning.
Jeff’s grasp on her arm grew more forceful. “It is amazing, isn’t it?” he hissed, in retaliation. Then he squired Fancy up the stairs, into a hallway, then through the open doorway of the grandest room she had ever seen in her life.
The bed was a gigantic four-poster and there were three floor-to-ceiling windows covered by blue velvet draperies. There were bureaus and armoirs and two beautiful, fan-shaped rattan chairs facing a small, ornate ivory fireplace.
Best of all, though, behind a gilt-trimmed changing screen, there was a bathtub. Not one that had been carried in from the kitchen or storage shed, either, but an impressive marble affair large enough to accommodate not just one person, but several.
Fancy blushed and turned away, only to collide immediately with an amused Jeff.
“Watch,” he said, and then he strode over to the tub, knelt on its tiled edge, and bent to secure a plug in the bottom. That done, he turned two faucets simultaneously and steaming water began to flow from an elegant spigot.
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