“Stop drooling,” Jeff cautioned, bestowing upon the man an outrageously indignant glare that should have belied the twinkle in his eye. “She’s spoken for.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been trying to remind myself of that fact for the last few weeks and have decided I should take your advice. . . .”
“What advice is that, pray tell?”
“I shall be escorting Elizabeth to your ball.” He looked askance at Jeff in time to see a grin break across his face. “Do you mind?”
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
“In that case, perhaps I shouldn’t,” Farrell replied, stretching his neck above his collar as he straightened his handsomely tailored frockcoat. “I wouldn’t want you to be cast into hell or anything like that, Jeffrey.”
The green eyes danced with puckish humor. “It’s long overdue, my friend, but I’m relieved to hear that you’re finally making use of that ol’ noggin of yours. I thought it was good for something. I just didn’t know exactly what until now.”
The couturier cleared his throat, uneasy about making certain confessions. “Actually, I’ve taken Elizabeth out a time or two for dinner since you were last here, Jeffrey. On business, of course. What with our past difficulties, that excuse seemed the best way to get her to accept my invitations.” The clothier flicked his brows upward as he revealed a past astonishment. “What I hadn’t expected to confront was the audacity of some men to openly ogle her while she was with me. Believe me, Jeffrey, I saw more than the usual froth running down their jowls, which, by the way, I grew increasingly desirous of punching.”
“Meaning you saw a threat of your talented assistant being stolen away and led to the altar by an infatuated swain?” Jeff prodded, amusement shining in his eyes.
Taking offense, Farrell ran a finger beneath the band of his collar at his nape, as if he now found it too tight. “Dammit, Jeffrey, you make it sound as if I’d court Elizabeth or even marry her merely to save my business from certain disaster.”
“You mean you wouldn’t?”
A cantankerous snort evidenced Farrell’s irritation. “You make me out to be a conniving scoundrel, Jeffrey, and that’s not the way of it at all. Elizabeth is a damn good-looking woman whom I’ve admired for some years now. Of all the young fillies I’ve ever courted, there isn’t one among them who can compare. It just finally dawned on me that I’ve been letting hurtful memories of past years dictate my actions even as late as last month. As yet, I’m not sure that she would appreciate any attempt on my part to ease our relationship into something less formal than employer and employee, but I think it would be much more relaxing and enjoyable to set my sights on the dove in my own back yard rather than trying to pluck the feathers off the neighbors’ chickens.”
“Smooth your ruffled nape, my friend. I’m just delighted to hear of your change of heart. Two months ago you were still gazing past her, or at least you seemed to be. It’s a relief to know you’ve become more short-sighted.”
“Short-sighted, hell. I’m nigh cross-eyed. I didn’t realize she was so much underfoot before. It’s somewhat like looking at the end of my nose.”
“And you don’t appreciate that,” Jeff vocally deduced.
“Hell and damnation, Jeffrey, you can be as vexing as a ten-foot alligator. I didn’t say that.”
Jeff was growing more perplexed by the moment. “Then what are you saying, Fancy Man?”
The couturier sighed in exasperation, not at all sure he could explain it all well enough. “Elizabeth has been so close at hand all this time, it never really dawned on me what I was doing until recently.”
Jeff searched for enlightenment. “Meaning that you’ve mainly been ignoring her?”
“Nooo,” Farrell fussed. “You should know better than that, having been the bachelor for so long. I know well enough that you were no different than I am now. I saw the way you’d size up a woman when she wasn’t even aware of you looking at her. Bachelors can’t seem to help themselves. Maybe it’s something instinctive, or the fact that appeasement doesn’t come that often unless a man gets desperate enough to seek out harlots, but I’ve never been led that way. Nor do I think you were. When a good-looking woman comes within view, we can mentally strip ’em, dissect ’em, and bed ’em all in a matter of a moment, at times without being completely aware of what we’re doing. I didn’t have to search for a better looking female to use as a standard by which I could judge all the other women. Elizabeth was here all this time, which made it easy for me to compare others to her, but, by the same token, I was so used to having her around, I never realized I was going through the same mental scenario many more times with her than all the others put together. Strip her, dissect her, and bed her . . . all in my mind. Emory put a name to it.” Farrell shook his head as if aghast at himself. “Coveting. That’s what I was doing long before she ever became a widow, and I wanted to hit the man for telling me that.”
“What are you going to do about it now?”
Farrell blew out his breath in frustration. “That, Jeffrey me dearie, is what pickled the pig on the poker. It’s damned frustrating, but I don’t know if I can do anything about it.”
Jeff cocked a wondering brow as he considered the couturier. His friend hadn’t been blind after all, just wary of old grudges, and what would follow, no one could predict.
LATE THAT AFTERNOON THE LANDAU PULLED UP IN front of Oakley house to allow the master and mistress of the manse to alight. Shortly after Jeff handed Raelynn down and the conveyance pulled away, their attention was promptly snared by an angry voice that seemed to be coming from the back of the house.
“An’ ah says, yo’ ain’t gots no business bein’ here, Missy. All yo’ wants ta do is make mo’ trouble for Mistah Jeffrey. Ah knows dat for a fact, jes’ like ah knows what yo’ did nigh ta a year ago. Now yo’ takes yo’self off afore de mastah comes home an’ finds yo’ skulkin’ ’round dis place like some no-account white trash.”
Recognizing the butler’s voice, Raelynn looked up at Jeff in acute surprise, thoroughly astonished by the servant’s harsh tones. Kingston was usually the very soul of propriety and unswerving patience, yet at present, his gruff voice was filled with outrage. “Who in the world can Kingston be talking to like that, Jeffrey?”
Her husband’s lean cheeks had darkened perceptively, and his eyes had taken on a cold glitter that chilled her to the bone. Facing her, he clasped her arms and, meeting her gaze directly, bade firmly, “Wait here, Raelynn. I’ll tend to this.”
She nodded hesitantly, reluctantly committing herself to staying behind while he faced another confrontation, which had similar qualities of that night wherein Gustav and his ruffians had forced their way into Oakley. Except that this time, it was obviously a woman . . . or, perhaps more accurately, a girl by the name of Nell, making trouble.
Worriedly Raelynn chewed at a bottom lip as her eyes followed Jeff around the end of the house. She could only wonder how he would handle the situation. If he were the debaucher as Nell had claimed, would he reveal that fact? Or would he skillfully hide his involvement in the form of outrage?
A moment later, Raelynn started abruptly as she heard him bark in irate tones.
“Just why in the devil have you come out here?”
“Oh, Jeffrey, I’ve been waiting for you for nearly an hour now,” a feminine voice complained sweetly. “I was beginning to think I’d have to leave, what with Kingston talkin’ to me so mean-like. I knew you’d be wonderin’ about our son, and I just wanted to show him to you. I named him Daniel after me pa. I hope you don’t mind.”
Raelynn clutched a trembling hand to her throat. She had felt a great measure of relief when Farrell had told them that Nell had asked for the day off to tend to some pressing business. Now she understood Nell’s reasoning. The girl had obviously planned her offensive well in advance and had chosen to launch her cannonball in a place where there wouldn’t be any threat to her job.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I do mind, Nell,
” Jeff answered caustically. “The babe may well be your son, but he sure as hell isn’t mine. Now stop this chicanery or I’ll have you carted back to Charleston again, this time in the back of a wagon, and you can bet I won’t be instructing anyone to find you a room. I can only wonder what rake you invited into the last room I paid for. ‘Tis obvious you didn’t waste any time getting with child after leaving here.”
Nell’s cajoling tones were pleasantly subdued. “Look at him, Jeffrey. He’s a right beautiful little boy. Why, he’s the most adorable baby I’ve e’er seen, and with all that fine, black hair and his li’l eyebrows anglin’ up just like yours, he’s bound to be the very image of you. Why, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if his eyes turn green. I just have to wonder at times if’n he’s gonna favor me atall, what with him already favorin’ his pa so. Look at our son, Jeffrey. Can’t you see the resemblance?”
“Stop harping on a lost cause, Nell!” Jeff barked. “I have no idea who the father is, but this much I know . . . it isn’t me!”
“He’s got black hair and . . .”
“Thousands of babies have black hair! That doesn’t mean I’ve sired them all!” Jeff bellowed.
Raelynn struggled to subdue the sickening feeling roiling in the pit of her stomach. The scene was hardly much different than what had evolved the first time Nell had come out. The girl was just as insistent and Jeff no less incensed. If anything, he was even more irate over her audacity to accost him a second time at his home. Although Raelynn couldn’t imagine that he’d be unaffected by the situation, his rage frightened her. When Jeff normally seemed so even-tempered, this display of temper caused her to wonder what really lay beneath that carefully maintained facade of levelheaded aplomb.
Raelynn glanced around in hopes of finding something that would draw her attention away from the argument presently going on behind the house, but even as she searched, she knew it was ridiculous to expect her thoughts to be diverted for even a second. The odds of that happening were about as great as the earth pausing on its axis.
Nell grew noticeably petulant. “You don’t have to shout, Jeffrey. I’m standing right here.”
“Well, truthfully, young lady,” he retorted snidely, “I’d be overwhelmed with delight if you were to do me a special favor and take yourself and your son back to Charleston or, for that matter, off the face of the earth, as long as it’s well out of my sight.”
“You’re just afraid of what your wife’s gonna think when she gets a peek at our son,” Nell challenged in a hurt tone.
Jeff lost any aplomb he once might have had. “Get out! Right now! I’m not going to waste my breath talking to you about this matter another moment. And don’t ever come back here again! If you do, I swear you’ll be taking your life in your hands, because right now, young lady, I’d like to throttle you! So I would advise you to get the bloody hell out of here before I do!”
Jeff’s voice softened as he questioned his butler. “Kingston, does she have a carriage waiting somewhere?”
“Yassuh, Mistah Jeffrey, she sho do. Right in front o’ de house.”
“Then would you kindly . . . or by force, if need be, escort Miss Nell to it and inform the driver that he’s not to stop until he’s entirely off my property.”
“Yassuh, Mistah Jeffrey. Ah sho will.”
Raelynn waited in a poorly contrived semblance of calm as Nell came stomping angrily around the end of the manse. Kingston scrambled to catch up with the girl, but to no avail. Aqua eyes met briefly with blue, and in that moment Raelynn was brought face to face with the indisputable meaning of visual daggers. It was rather like being pierced to the bone.
Nell’s upper lip curled upward in a disdaining sneer as she stalked toward her rival. “You think you have Jeffrey all to yourself now with all his money in the palm of your hand, don’t you? Well, Miss Rich Bitch, I’m not finished with him yet. I’ll see you both shamed ‘til you can’t bear to be seen in public. Then perhaps Mr. Tight-fisted High an’ Noble Lord Birmingham will relent and give me what I’m askin’ for. ‘Tain’t as if he don’t have enough ta spare.” She snorted contemptuously. “Bet if’n you whelped a dozen, his purse wouldn’t suffer none.”
Nell dismissed Raelynn with an arrogant toss of her head and stalked down the drive to where the hired livery had stopped within the curve of the lane. Kingston hustled in her wake and was there to offer a helping hand when Nell paused beside the carriage step to readjust the bundle she carried within her arms. After a final glare toward Jeff, who now stood stoically beside his wife, she accepted the butler’s assistance into the conveyance and never looked back.
The carriage rattled off down the lane, allowing Raelynn to release her breath in a long, quavering sigh. Still trembling, she peered up at her husband who had swept his frockcoat back from his chest and jammed both hands finger-deep into the pockets of his finely tailored trousers. His expression of concern clearly conveyed the fact that he was expecting some contrary reaction or comment from her, for his eyes watched her carefully and a dark eyebrow was sharply notched at a discomfited angle. Perhaps under the circumstances, she should have had something profound or serious to say, but at present, Raelynn just couldn’t think of anything notable. Distractedly she glanced around and mutedly observed, “One should never count on the sky not falling around here. It seems to do that on a regular basis.”
7
THE MELODIC STRAINS OF A WALTZ DRIFTED ON AIRY wings throughout the halls of Oakley Plantation house as the tall master of the manse swept his young wife in ever-widening circles around the candlelit, flower-bedecked ballroom. The bejeweled hem of the lady’s gently flaring skirts swirled caressingly against her husband’s black-stockinged calves in much the same manner as her slender fingers idly stroked the fabric of his finely tailored coat. His dapper evening attire of blackest silk, accentuated by a white, nattily tied stock and crisp, high-collared shirt, contrasted handsomely with the pale rosy blush of her beaded gown. In like degrees, his raven hair and burnished good looks emphasized the fairness of her ivory skin and the shining luster of her auburn tresses.
The two had eyes only for each other and were blissfully unaware of their guests drifting to the outer limits of the dance floor from whence they watched in admiration, many enthralled with the easy flowing grace of the pair. Others were not so graciously inclined. For at least a decade now, neighbors and friends had been cognizant of the attention the Birmingham brothers had garnered from a company of smitten females in the area. Now that the elder of the two had become firmly ensconced in a marriage to a beautiful wife and had a second child on the way, much of that infatuation had fallen to the younger who, on his own, had unwittingly acquired a vast following of lovesick devotees. Many of these same bedazzled maidens were present at this evening’s festivities as members of families who had been acquainted with the Birminghams for a goodly number of years. Some were pampered darlings of avaricious parents who had seen the wealth of the Birminghams as something they could hopefully gain access to through marriage. Mothers and offspring were wont to hiss and sneer as they cast haughty glowers toward the object of their envy and the cause of their frustration. Recent hearsay had it that the newest Mrs. Birmingham had become the recipient of the zealous attention of one Gustav Fridrich, a brutish German who had been so intent upon having the girl for his own that he had broken into Oakley House and taken her captive. The rejected maids and their doting parents enlivened many a rumor about the event, suggesting that the lady had actually been sullied by her abductor and that her handsome husband, always a gentleman, had merely done the honorable thing by refusing to cast her aside.
More flattering compliments flowed from a different sector, not only liberally extolling the praises of the attractive couple, but also expressing admiration for the lady’s gown. All were wont to surmise that the garment had cost her husband a sizable sum. But then, many shrugged away any thought of censure, reasoning that when a man was as rich as Jeffrey Birmingham, it was understandable t
hat he would be of a mind to bestow lavish gifts upon his wife, for she was indeed exquisite.
Farrell Ives and Elizabeth Dalton exchanged smiling glances as they overheard comments praising the lady’s gown. In silent tribute to the couturier’s talent, his loyal assistant squeezed his arm. The gentle pressure in no wise went unnoticed by the stalwart man. Indeed, it did much to provoke his surprise, for the lady had never displayed any willingness to touch him either casually or deliberately unless she had been required by some definite reason to do so.
Farrell lowered a questioning gaze upon the dark-haired beauty, and when Elizabeth looked up, their eyes met with startling results. In the cerulean orbs, a warmth began to glow, more than hinting of a manly desire as he plumbed far below the depth of the darkly hued iris. It was the first time he had ever captured her gaze long enough to lend him some hope that her heart was susceptible to an intimate search of her hidden emotions. For an instant he glimpsed fertile ground, and his lean fingers brushed across the delicate bones of her hand, trying to communicate all the feelings he had held in check for years. Her breath halted, and for barely an instant she seemed to waver between a smile and some unknown fear. Then her soft lips began to tremble, and a fluttering sigh wafted from them.
A poignant longing seemed to fill the very essence of Elizabeth’s being. As much as she yearned to respond with a womanly warmth to Farrell’s questioning stare, she knew only too well the danger of yielding to those hypnotic, powerfully masculine smiles. Too often she had witnessed his effect on unsuspecting young maidens who had ventured much too close and, without warning, suddenly found their hearts hopelessly ensnared. Those mesmerizing blue-eyed stares had the strength to weaken the knees as well as the wits and wills of not only tender virgins but older widows as well, as Mrs. Brewster had recently demonstrated. Being merely his employee, Elizabeth understood the folly of lowering her guard, for she would be loath to see him scurrying to find a place to hide were she ever to forget her self-imposed restrictions. Still, it had been an arduous task to ignore the sinking feeling that had affirmed itself in the pit of her stomach each and every time she had been required by proper etiquette to stand calmly by while she watched the man practice his irresistible cajolery on some sweet young thing in his shop. The gloom that had followed such occurrences had left no question in her mind that, perhaps more than anyone, she yearned for some small bit of his attention for herself.
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 14
