He remembered her coming in with her father as if it were yesterday. She'd captivated him with her beauty and elegance, especially for someone so young. Yet it was the stimulating exchange that he'd overheard between her and Oliver Malloy which had really caught his interest.
Her father explained things to her not as one would to a bored or disinterested daughter, but as to an equal. She had listened attentively, asked intelligent questions, and given every indication of a superior mind. His eyes had followed her until she'd left the bank that day.
With a wince, Michael recalled how happy he'd been to run into her at the courthouse—especially after being told by one of his friends at the bank that Mr. Malloy was inquiring after his status. Unthinkingly, he'd rushed over to her like a blundering puppy. Even after all this time, he remembered how awful he'd felt when watching her expression dissolve into one of horrified humiliation.
And he had been unable to get Elise out of his thoughts, though he had tried for the sake of his parents and their friends' kind daughter, whom his mother had always hoped he'd marry. When Elise had again come into the bank, accompanying her widowed mother, he'd broken it off with Victoria. He knew he could not in good conscience be with one woman when he spent all of his time fantasizing about another.
A woman whom he'd finally, at long-last kissed. His groin tightened at the memory. Indeed, he'd been unable to stop himself once he got close to her. It was as if she'd already agreed to be his. Her lips were so damned soft, and she tasted like mint. Then there was the smell of her skin and her hair, like lilacs. He wanted to bury his face in her hair. She had more than lived up to his fantasy.
The only dark cloud was the fact that she had so readily agreed to marry Amory. Michael had a feeling she would have gone through with it, too, if he hadn't made her face precisely what she was doing. She was a puzzlement, but one he had every intention of figuring out.
* * *
There was only one thing for Elise to do. She had to end the farce at once. She headed for the Amory mansion on Warren Street. Jonathon wasn't there, but old Mr. Amory was at home. Seizing the opportunity, she asked the maid to find out if he would meet with her.
After a few minutes' wait, he appeared, looking far older than she'd remembered, but she hadn't seen him out in public in half a decade.
He took slow, painful-looking steps, leaning heavily on a black polished cane that he thumped down onto the thick rug with each step he took. A large silver handle protruded from between his gnarled fingers.
Patiently and silently, she awaited his approach until he stood before her.
"Shall we sit, young lady?" And they did.
His voice creaked, but his eyes were bright and clear. "It has been many years since a Malloy was in my house," he began, and she knew then that he had no knowledge of her earlier visits. Most likely, he had no idea she was engaged to his son.
"You look like my Celia," was his second statement. Elise vaguely remembered the man's exquisitely beautiful daughter who for a short while captivated Reed so thoroughly. She thought that she and Celia shared only a passing resemblance due to their dark hair. Nothing else.
"Thank you," she said.
"Shall I skip the pleasantries and ask why you're here and not your father?"
She started, feeling uncertain now if he had all his faculties.
"My father is deceased, Mr. Amory."
He paused. "I'm sorry to hear it. A fine attorney and a fair man. In a heated moment, he kept his head."
He closed his eyes, and she wondered if he was done with her.
"Mr. Amory," she began, and his eyes snapped open.
"What do you need, Miss Malloy? I pay a monthly penalty for my daughter's indiscretion, for what she tried to do to your brother who should have left her well-enough alone. It was your brother, correct?"
She nodded.
"What more can I do?"
Clearly, he didn't know that the payments had stopped a year ago. That would indicate someone else was handling the family's finances, and she had the sickening feeling it was Jonathon.
She wasn't sure whether to tell him anything now. It was within her reach to pay off the loan herself, though she was unsure if that was what her father would have wanted.
All of a sudden, the parlor door burst open, and Jonathon came charging in. He stopped short at seeing his father and Elise in close quarters.
"The maid said you were here, Miss Malloy," he said after a moment of catching his breath.
"As you can see," she agreed. "I am."
"What do you mean, Jonathon, running in here like that?" his father scolded. "Bad manners, if you ask me. You might have frightened our guest."
"No, I'm fine," Elise said, standing up. "I was just leaving."
"But you haven't told me why you came, my dear," Mr. Amory, senior, said.
Before she could respond, Jonathon approached his father. "Why don't you go take a nap, sir? I'll handle Miss Malloy."
Handle her! She felt insulted.
"Nonsense, I'm not tired," Owen Amory protested, but a huge yawn split the old man's face. "Hm, maybe just a short rest."
There was a moment of silence as he struggled to rise and began his walk across the room.
"It was a pleasure to see you, young lady," he said without turning. "Again, I'm sorry about your father."
"Thank you, Mr. Amory," Elise said to his arched back.
After he had shuffled out and Jonathon had checked the door behind him to make sure it was firmly closed, he stood before her, looking down.
"What can I do for you?"
"As it turns out, nothing," she said. "I'm here to tell you I won't marry you."
His left eye twitched, and a flash of emotion flickered in his gaze—frustration, exasperation. "Was it something my father said?" he asked, concern etched across his face. "I can assure you—"
She stood up to regain a little equality. "I came to tell you that I was calling off our engagement, but finding out that your father knew nothing about the cessation of payments on the loan was quite interesting. Why, he didn't even know we were getting married. You lied to me on more than one count."
However, he didn't hang his head or look ashamed. He stared at her until she felt uncomfortable, looking as though he were weighing two or more options perhaps. Then his jaw clenched, as he seemed to come to some decision.
"I need a wife—in name at least, and I've decided you will suit."
Her mouth must have dropped open slightly for he laughed at her.
"Call it off and I will tell everyone that your father took out the loan to pay off my family. Your brother's name will be back in the gutter where it belongs for defiling my sister. And your father's name, as well, for lying about it."
"That's despicable," she said, though she could well see how the loan was damning evidence.
He folded his arms. "Marry me, and it all goes away."
"I don't need your money anymore," she said quietly. "I now have the means to pay off the loan that your family ought to be paying."
"That makes me no never mind. I'll still ruin you if you go back on our agreement."
She thought the floor shifted slightly. "For God's sake, why?"
"As I said, a man in my position needs a wife; otherwise, suspicions arise, some that are too close to the truth," he said evenly, leaving her to wonder if he preferred the company of men.
In truth, she'd never seen Jonathon Amory about town in the company of a lady. However, his next sentence confused the issue further: "And taking you to my bed, at least to deflower you, is sweet revenge for all the anguish your brother caused."
She paled. He wanted to punish her in the most intimate way because Reed had had relations with his sister. What a monster! And he knew that Celia had not been innocent when she'd enticed Reed.
"This is absurd. I will tell my brother of your wickedness and deceit."
"No, you won't." Jonathon took the seat his father had vacated, draped one long arm
across the back and crossed his legs as if he hadn't a care in the world. He shook his head, making an exaggerated tut-tutting sound. "The upstanding Reed Malloy, pinnacle of Boston's legal aristocracy, keeping his bastard child in France while its melancholy mother pines away for him. How cruel! How immoral!"
Her brain whirled, grasping at thoughts, trying to imagine a way out, a way in which her brother would never find out about the loan or come to any harm by Jonathon's vicious lies. Making Jonathon stay silent was the only answer.
"How do I know that you won't try to ruin my brother even after you and I marry?"
"Why would I damage my wife's family's reputation? I ask you. Is that the action of a sane man?"
Was he sane and simply driven by bitter revenge? Or was there a touch of madness to him? She couldn't tell.
"I must think on it," she said, wanting to postpone what now seemed to be inevitable.
His eyes narrowed. "Don't think too long, Elise."
Her name sounded like a snake's hiss when he said it.
"I intend to get our license tomorrow. The announcement will be in all the papers by week's end," he paused. "Or your brother's name will. I promise you."
Grim-faced, she said not another word as she left his presence.
* * *
Once home, Elise went straight to her room, avoiding her mother and her sisters. Sitting on her bed, she considered her options. It was too late to tell Reed. He'd go straight to the Amory house, and then the whole scandal would blow up in his face.
Jonathon would ruin him, and gladly. She had no doubt he would be vindictive; she was certain there was more than just hard feelings about Reed and Celia's dalliance. There was professional jealousy involved, as well.
The community of lawyers was small enough that even Elise had heard of Jonathon's misstep a year earlier when he'd lost a case that Reed told her was due to his lack of research, preparedness, and general incompetence. Jonathon had lost many clients after that.
After she became his wife, who knew how far he would go? He might insist that she ask Reed to go into practice with him. She chewed on her lower lip. What a predicament! There were two men to whom she wanted to turn for assistance, her father and her brother, but both were unavailable to her.
Michael. His name popped into her mind, followed quickly by his comely face. For a moment, she considered asking him for help. After all, he already knew about the loan and seemed to have a strong opinion of Amory. However, she dismissed the thought. What could Michael do that wouldn't jeopardize Reed's standing?
Lastly before going to bed that night, Elise sat at her writing desk and pulled out a piece of crisp stationary. What to say to Michael? How to word it so he would believe her yet not think too badly of her? She couldn't bear the thought of his disapproval though she knew it would be all but impossible to keep his admiration.
After the wedding announcement was published, she could never look into Michael's eyes again. And she most certainly couldn't go to dinner with him tomorrow evening.
Dear Mr. Bradley,
I apologize for any inconvenience this missive may cause you as I know you will receive it the morning of our appointed dinner engagement. However, after due reflection, I must cancel.
I am at present irrevocably engaged to Mr. Amory. It would be unseemly for me to be out with you in public. Further, if you are laboring under any misconceptions regarding the possibility of an attachment between us, you must desist. There cannot be one.
As for any other disclosures from your bank, I would ask that you mail them to my attention. If business necessitates a family member's presence, I will send my sister Sophie in my place. I would ask you once again not to mention the loan to any member of my family. It will be settled shortly, either by myself or by Mr. Amory.
Sincerely,
Elise L. Malloy
She read it over before folding it, sealing it, and putting it aside to give to the maid in the morning. It would be delivered to Michael as soon as the bank opened.
* * *
Elise spent a fitful night trying to think of a way out of her dilemma and eventually fell into a troubled sleep. When she awoke, she made sure the letter went out immediately. After breakfast, feeling on pins and needles at the idea of Michael reading her words and of how he might react, she decided a walk was in order before the day became too warm.
She strolled along Mount Vernon Street, down Walnut, and across the Common, before heading home via Charles Street. As she turned right at the corner toward her house, a carriage stopped beside her; the driver was none other than Michael Bradley.
"Elise, can you wait a moment?"
So stunned to see him looking down at her, she glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but the street was quiet. She nodded her acquiescence, and in an instant, he was on the sidewalk blocking her path.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked without preamble. He held her letter, fluttering open as if he'd just been reading it while driving his carriage.
"It's rather self-explanatory, I should think," she said, flustered by his sudden appearance and by his vehemence.
"Can you possibly mean what you have written?" He looked perplexed and even annoyed. "You have changed your mind and will not have dinner with me?"
She found she could barely take a breath, let alone stay and speak with him. She could already feel the emotions welling up in her throat and choking her. Helpless against the squeezing of her heart, she started to walk past him. His hand on her arm stopped her.
"I am engaged," she reiterated as fiercely as she could, breaking free and pushing by him. She continued along the sidewalk toward her house.
"You were engaged yesterday when you let me kiss you," he said to her rigid back, his voice remaining level, not raised though clearly angry.
She spun quickly around. "How dare you speak of it out loud? You risk everything, sir."
"I am merely speaking the truth between us. Something has happened between yesterday and today." His voice softened. "Please, Elise, tell me what is wrong."
Could he help her? No, she had gone over and over it in her mind. She turned away from his dear face and began walking toward home once more.
"Elise," he called again.
"I am so sorry," she said without turning. What else could she say? Feeling foolish and heartbroken, she walked stiffly, but not without hearing him give an exasperated groan, nearly a growl. She felt the same way. The passionate creature inside her was growling with frustration—to be so close to this man with whom her heart was inexplicably connected, so close and yet to have to walk away.
Rose met her at the front door. "There was a man here to see you, a handsome one at that," her sister said with a grin. "The one from the Crowninshield's party."
Clearly, she was excited by the visit from a stranger, and Elise couldn't blame her.
Rose watched her carefully for some sign of interest. "He was very pleasing to the eye," she added.
Elise barely nodded, unpinning her hat and removing her gloves, placing everything carefully on the letter table in the front hall. Obviously Michael had sought her at home first.
"He wouldn't say what it was about," her sister continued. "He was very mysterious, and he said he would only speak with you."
Elise offered only silence.
Rose frowned, wanting more of a reaction. "What do you make of it?"
Elise needed to put a stop to Rose's persistent needling interest. "Really, I couldn't say. Thank you for the message. I'll go ask Cook to put on the water for some tea."
She hurried away from her youngest sister. No need to tell her that she'd already run into the "pleasing" banker on the street. That would elicit a cross-examination of epic proportions. Elise would rather plead ignorance of the whole ordeal.
And she did so again when Rose mentioned the mysterious man over the main course of their evening repast, the meal that Elise should have missed if she had been able to follow her heart and spend the evening w
ith Michael. No wonder the food tasted like sawdust.
Reed looked at Rose. "What did he want?"
Rose gave an unladylike shrug. "He wouldn't give me a clue. He asked only for Elise Malloy, and then he said that no one else could help him."
Elise feigned intense interest in her roast beef and decided again to say nothing.
"That's strange," Reed said. "Are you sure he didn't want Mrs. E. Malloy and got the names mixed up?" he asked after another moment's consideration.
Rose laughed. "Oh, no. He didn't want Mama. He was quite certain he needed to speak with Miss Elise."
When Elise looked up, she found Rose staring at her.
Reed touched her hand, and she had to look at him. "Do you know what this is about?" he asked.
Taking a deep breath, she lied to her brother for the first time in her life. "No idea." And she went back to eating, feeling if possible, more miserable than she had earlier.
Their mother put down her wine glass. "Reed, dear, perhaps you should go to the bank tomorrow and find out. He's from the Massachusetts National, you know."
"No," Elise said more loudly and forcefully than she intended. She had hoped her mother had forgotten that the man who'd lifted her in his arms at the party was from their bank.
All eyes, even Sophie's who'd been studying a musical score that lay beside her dinner plate, regarded her with interest. Elise watched Reed's eyebrows shoot up quizzically, and she knew she had to finesse this quickly or he would be on her like the astute lawyer he was.
"What I mean is if the man came here to see me, then I should be the one to find out why." She turned to her mother. "This isn't the turn of the century, Mother. I'm quite capable of going to the bank. Besides, perhaps it was a simple mistake, and it would be a waste of Reed's time. He's very busy."
Reed gave his sister an extra long look before turning to their mother. "I couldn't go tomorrow, in any case. Court is in session." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps the next day if Elise has not sorted it out by then. I'm sorry not to be of more use, but I'm sure she can handle whatever it is." He gave his older sister a broad wink of encouragement.
"I suppose," their mother said. "But let us know if you need help, dear."
The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set Page 6
