“I blame it on the pitcher,” Teddy said with a laugh. The adults followed the boys inside, listening as they regaled their father and uncle with their antics.
* * *
Florence McLeod groaned at the gentle knock on the door and heaved out a weak, “Come in.” She lifted her head off her pillow and leaned up on her elbows. “Delia,” she said and then fell back onto the comfortable bed.
“Oh my,” Delia breathed. “I knew you were tired, but I never realized you were this exhausted.” She walked to Florence and ran a hand over her forehead, nodding with satisfaction to find it cool to her touch. “Do you feel well?”
Florence opened an eye and shared a rueful smile with her friend and the woman she considered as a mother-in-law. “I haven’t truly slept in months. To finally have a few hours without worry …” She yawned hugely. “How is the baby? Where is the baby?” She sat upright, her blue eyes filled with panic that her three-month-old daughter was not in the room with her.
Delia pushed on her shoulders until she lay against a pillow. “She’s well. She’s with the nurse and sleeping soundly. I just looked in, and everything is fine.”
“I hate how relieved I am that Aidan ignored my wishes and arranged for a nurse and nanny.” She flushed as she settled against a pillow. “I should be able to take care of my own children.”
Delia shook her head and sat near the bed. The windows were open, allowing a soft breeze to enter, along with the sounds of Florence’s boys playing outside on the lawn and the distant melody of waves crashing on rocks. “You must learn to accept help when it is offered. I think Richard was at his wit’s end with worry over you.”
Florence curled onto her side. “I am competent, Delia. I have no other work. I should be able to do this.”
Delia smiled and gripped her hand. “No one will ever doubt your competence as a devoted mother. As a wonderful wife. But you must take care of yourself too.”
Florence nodded. “It’s only now that I’ve stopped that I realize how tired I am. Thank you,” she whispered as Delia tucked a throw blanket over her. “Are we having a quiet family dinner tonight? I will be terrible company if we are having a formal affair.”
“We won’t be having any formal parties here, although there are those who’d wish we would. Savannah was quite the talk of the ball we attended, and too many would like any chance to stare at her.”
“To gossip and smear her, you mean,” Florence said with a frown. “It’s unfortunate you and Aidan move in such society. It’s much more pleasant among the working class.” She smiled at Delia’s laugh.
Delia gave her hand a pat. “As for dinner tonight, it is a quiet affair, although Sophie did invite a friend. A singer who is Lucas’s friend.”
Florence smiled. “Savannah will enjoy speaking with him.” She yawned again. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, I should beg yours for intruding on your time to relax. Rest assured that all your children are well looked after, Florence. Please catch up on much-needed sleep while you are here.” Delia stroked a hand over Florence’s curly black hair as Florence already slipped back into sleep.
Chapter 10
Savannah poked her head into Aidan’s study, letting out a sigh of relief to find Aidan alone. She wore a new dress as her older dresses were too tight with her expanding waistline. The pale green highlighted her golden hair and blue eyes. “Hello, Uncle,” she whispered.
He looked up from papers he read and smiled at her. “Darling Savannah, you look marvelous.” He rose and gave her a quick hug before helping her to a chair. Rather than sitting behind his desk again, he sat beside her. “What is the matter?”
She let out a small laugh. “I should have known better than to think I could hide any distress from you.” She paused and then firmed her shoulders. “I know you mean to help Jeremy and me. That you want the best for us.” She gripped her hands together on her lap. “But I don’t want to go into society again.”
Aidan leaned back in his chair and watched her. “I believe they would come to accept you, Savannah. They have a perverse need to make you suffer before they will welcome you again.”
She flushed, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Why should I waste my time trying to obtain approval from people I don’t even like? I might be dead in a few months’ time, Uncle. I don’t want to waste it with them. I want to spend it with my family. With my friends.” She sniffled. “I know I used to believe I wanted to be a part of that world. I don’t. Not anymore. And I don’t want my daughter to live in it either.”
Aidan smiled softly at her, the lines at his eyes crinkling. “Delia said much the same to me. Said I was a fool to have subjected you to a moment’s worth of misery at that ball.” He sighed. “Forgive me, Savannah. I never meant to cause you to suffer.”
She gripped his hand. “I didn’t refuse to attend. I should have. I knew it would be a disaster.” Her eyes shone with anger. “But I didn’t want to disappoint Melinda. She was desperate to attend.”
“At least she had her one dance,” Aidan said. “I fear none were eager to dance with her once they learned who her mother was.”
“Why would Mr. Hawke dance with my young daughter?” Savannah nibbled at her lip.
Aidan shook his head and rose, helping Savannah to stand. “As a friend of your brother’s, I imagine he thought he was aiding her and doing his duty as a friend. He’s been invited to dinner tonight, and you should ask him. Sophie thought his presence would be welcome.”
Savannah took Aiden’s hand and linked her arm through his elbow. “Thank you for understanding.”
He shook his head. “No, Savannah. Thank you for forgiving me for subjecting you to such a trial.” He ushered her out to the sitting room, where the adults had gathered before dinner was announced.
Savannah sat near Delia, who gripped her hand a moment. “When does your father arrive, Savannah?”
“He wrote that he should be here tomorrow. Rather than hope his assistant remains competent and doesn’t rob him blind, he’ll close the shop for a few weeks and take a holiday.” Her eyes lit with pleasure. “It will be wonderful to see him free of his cares.”
Delia smiled. “You should use your time with him to convince him to sell. He would then have the freedom to travel to Montana to see you and Lucas. To meet his newest granddaughter.”
“I don’t want to pressure him.” Savannah shared a hopeful smile with Delia. “But that is one of my greatest wishes.”
“Then I will be sure to make the same recommendation.” She looked up as Perry Hawke entered, dressed in a formal evening suit. “Oh dear,” Delia breathed. “Sophie forgot to mention we don’t change into formal clothes for dinner.”
“Not when it is only family,” Savannah said. She bit her lip as she looked at Perry, splendid in white tie, while the rest of the men wore day suits.
Delia rose and approached him, her smile gracious and contrite.
Rowena sat next to Savannah and shared a chagrined smile with her. “I suppose Sophie didn’t bother to inform him that we are a casual group?”
Savannah nodded to Sophie, whose expression of innocence was not to be believed. “If Jeremy had to wear such clothes on a regular basis, he would return to Montana on the next available train.”
Rowena giggled as she looked at Jeremy and Richard. The McLeod brothers were handsome in a rugged way, whereas Perry looked polished and urbane. She watched Perry move around the room to speak with all present as she ran her hands over her skirts.
When he approached the settee, Savannah smiled at him. “I was informed you are a good friend to my brother, Lucas. It is nice to finally meet you.”
“I am, Mrs. McLeod. I’m unsuccessful in my attempt to lure him on tour with me. The beauty of Montana has kept him content.”
Savannah laughed. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw Butte! It’s an ugly city, Mr. Hawke. I believe he is satisfied because he is with Genevieve, and he can do what he pleases.”
He smi
led. “I’m certain you are correct.” He gave a slight bow. “Miss Clement.” His impersonal smile failed to light his eyes with joy, and he turned away to join Aidan for a drink.
“Well, he is as charming as he is handsome,” Savannah said, her hands resting over her curved belly. “I’ve read that women fall at his feet in every city he visits.”
“And I’m sure he loves the attention,” Rowena muttered, and then rose to follow Savannah into the dining room.
* * *
Rowena slipped outside, escaping the stifling sitting room as the men chatted about politics and finances. She had no desire to speak further about the recent arrest of the NWP suffragists for picketing at Lafayette Square and their expected imprisonment. She took a gulp of cooler air as she emerged onto the veranda, walking along it and then down to the lawn. A half moon shone, partially illuminating her steps as she approached the rocky coastline.
She stood, staring into the waves, their song timeless and soothing, as she thought over dinner. Perry—“Mr. Hawke,” she told herself with a scold—had been aloof and distant during the entire meal. He failed to comment on her brighter aquamarine dress and had ignored her to speak with Savannah about Lucas. Rowena shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, reluctant to return to the house.
She stifled a shriek as a jacket was slung over her shoulders. Raising large shocked eyes, she watched as Perry stood beside her. “Why are you here?”
He shrugged. “I worried when you left the room.” Then he half smiled. “My jacket is quite large on you. You are swimming in it.”
“I should get back,” she whispered, moving to slip the jacket off her shoulders.
“No,” he whispered. “Dance with me.”
She frowned at him, finally accepting his jacket and stuffing her arms through the sleeves. She rolled them up three times so that her hands were free. “Dance with you? Why should I after you’ve spent the better part of the evening ignoring me?”
His charming smile faded, and his gaze turned from a light flirtation into one of fierce concentration. He cupped her face, his callused fingers eliciting a gasp as they roved over the soft skin of her cheek. “How could I pay attention to you with all those curious eyes? I want you to have the chance to know me without them backing you into a corner. Or pushing me away.”
She blinked as tears rose. “It doesn’t matter. It’s an impossibility.” Yet she turned her head into his touch as his thumb swiped away a tear.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Nothing is impossible. For, if it were, I would never be here, in an evening suit, with you in my arms in Newport.” He frowned as she cast a furtive glance toward the illuminated house. “Come.” Gripping her hand, he tugged her a few paces until they stood in the next-door-neighbor’s backyard.
“We shouldn’t be here,” she protested, yet she moved into his outstretched arms.
“They have yet to arrive for the season. Sophie told me that just before I slipped out to find you.” Perry tugged her close until her chest met his. He lowered his head to breathe in her subtle lemon and lilac scent. “I thought women of elegant breeding always wore fancy scents.”
“My mother liked simple things,” Rowena murmured, her hands on his shoulders. “I take after her. Not my father.”
He made a sound that could have been approval as he spun her into a dance. He chuckled as she stifled another squeal, and then he sighed with pleasure as her hands inched their way up until they were around his neck. When she rested on his shoulder, he kissed her head.
“There’s no music, and yet we are dancing,” she murmured.
“Don’t you hear it?” he whispered. “The waves against the rocks. The insects buzzing. Even the heavy night air has its own sound.” He continued to move with her. “With you in my arms, it’s better than any symphony I’ve ever heard.”
“Mr. Hawke,” she said as she moved back to look into his partially shadowed face. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
“Don’t you?” he asked as he leaned forward and kissed her. The kiss was at first a gentle meeting of their lips, but he soon gripped her to him, holding her close as his mouth opened over hers. When she gasped in surprise, he surged within, holding her head between his hands.
She gripped his shoulders, standing on tiptoe to kiss him back. When one of his hands released her head and wandered over her fully clothed body, coming to rest over her breast, she gasped again but did not break their kiss. She arched into his touch and then backed away at the reverberating sound of a loud wave crashing. She tried to break free of his hold, and he released her, although he continued to caress her shoulders.
“That was…” She shook her head as a tear streaked down her cheek.
“Extraordinary,” he murmured as he attempted to catch his breath. He frowned as she battled tears. “I had hoped I had more finesse than to move you to tears.”
“There’s no hope. No reason for this,” she said.
He nodded. “I know that I am little more than a singer who pawns his talents in the expectation of being paid. But I had hoped, with your penchant for eccentric friends and scandalous causes, that you would consider me someone worth knowing.”
She bit her lip as she met his sincere gaze. A light breeze blew, ruffling his blond hair. Her hands itched, and she gave into temptation, swiping the locks from his forehead. “Silky,” she murmured. She blushed and dropped her hand, backing up a step again. “I fear I would bring you more problems than you would like.”
He frowned as he looked at her. “Don’t you believe that is for me to decide?”
“You say I have a penchant for eccentric friends. From what I have heard, you have a penchant for exotic women. Something I will never be accused of.” She blushed fiercely as he stared at her.
“You hide your intelligence and independence well, don’t you, Rowena?” He stepped forward, cupping his hands around the back of her head so his fingers met at her nape and his thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I had an affair with an opera singer. I think it has been well chronicled that Miss Woodward left me for what she hoped would be a more generous benefactor.” He let out a deep breath. “I won’t lie, Rowena. Her defection hurt me. I had thought to marry her.”
Rowena nodded, her expression frozen and becoming more remote as he spoke. However, she could not hide a shiver as his thumbs moved over her cheeks.
“I realize now that she did me the greatest of favors.” He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “She never truly cared for me, and I want more from life than a woman who merely desires my money. Or esteem from the fame that I have earned.”
She swallowed and felt her cheeks reddening under his intense stare. “What do you want, Mr. Hawke?”
He smiled, tenderness lighting his eyes. “I want you to start calling me Perry. I want to have permission to write to you. I want your friends to know that I have an honorable interest in you.”
She frowned as she gazed deep into his eyes. “What else?”
He broke his gaze free of hers and dropped his hands. He took a step away and shook his head. “I beg your pardon.”
She leaped forward, grabbing his strong arms and grunting in frustration as her hands tangled in his long coat sleeves. “No,” she demanded as she pulled at him. She moved until she stood, blocking his path. She shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop to the ground, and reached up, cupping his face. “Tell me. You’ve come this far, and it’s only fair.”
He chuckled, but it did not sound humorous. “I should have known a suffragist would be determined.”
He stood so that the moon shone on his face, and she could easily read the frustration and longing in his expression.
“I want you to see me as a worthy man,” he whispered. “Not as gutter scum.”
She recoiled from his words, and he gave a sardonic laugh. “I should have known it was too much to hope for that my past didn’t precede me. Not in your world.”
She pushed at his chest
as he attempted to depart and stumbled a step as she tripped on his jacket on the ground. “Stop.” She raised irate, defiant eyes to his. “It’s my turn.”
He stilled, although his breath emerged more quickly than normal, nearly a pant. He nodded, and his eyes gleamed with appreciation as she stood her ground, even though she was nearly a foot shorter than he was.
“I … There are things I’m not ready to tell you yet. Things that might change how you feel about me. If you can accept that unknown, I would like us to write. To see each other when we can.” She bit her lip. “I want to know you, Perry.”
“Why?” he whispered, his hand rising of its own volition to play in her loosened auburn hair.
“You don’t look at me as pathetic Rowena, still single at nearly thirty-two.” She blinked as she attempted to clear her tears. “You see me.”
He grinned and lowered his head until their foreheads touched again. “I see you, darling.” After a moment he whispered, “Are you afraid to tell me about a fierce passion in your past?” He watched her closely as she flushed. “That would not matter to me.”
She swallowed. “That’s not what it is. It’s not something I’ll discuss tonight.” She paused as he watched her with curiosity. She smiled and leaned upward, kissing him again.
After another long, drugging kiss, he eased her away. “No more, love. Not unless you want me to become your passionate secret you must conceal.” He smiled as she giggled. He held his hand out to her and linked their fingers together as they walked around the hedge to the water’s edge again.
“You will write me?” she whispered.
“As often as I can.” He raised her hand and kissed her palm, evoking a shiver. “Write me about your day. Your frustrations. Your dreams. I want to know you, Rowena. Not the facade that everyone can see, but the woman underneath.”
Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight Page 19
