The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set

by Sydney Jane Baily

  "Jason Farnsworth, III" Alicia exclaimed. "My word. What an honor to have the Farnsworths asking for an introduction, and the eldest son at that." She fingered the card thoughtfully. "We must respond at once, Charlotte, then you will have an undeniably acceptable escort for the ball."

  Charlotte could hardly voice her desire that she hoped Reed Malloy would escort her, especially when her aunt lowered her voice a notch, as if the two squabbling children were even the least bit interested in the adult chatter, and added, "and we can put all the unpleasant business of your previous indiscretions behind us."

  Charlotte could see the merit in having a proper, respectable Bostonian at her side. She had taken a grave chance in revealing to her aunt that Reed had been her houseguest. When she and Reed did cross paths again, her aunt would be watching them with extreme vigilance. They would have to be careful to give no hint of impropriety.

  If all it took were a few respectable outings with this Mr. Farnsworth to clear her in the eyes of her aunt, Charlotte thought it was, indeed, worth it.

  "And how do I go about meeting—?"

  "Oh, no, dear." Alicia looked aghast. "I will handle it all. Be prepared for some afternoon sightseeing, chaperoned of course, and maybe with the children along. Do wear the gray outfit for this first encounter."

  * * *

  Charlotte was calmer than she'd anticipated for her introduction to Boston's highest echelon. Something in the relationship she'd begun with Reed had given her confidence in herself and in her ability to hold her own in a conversation with a man. Surely, she could pull off an afternoon with a stranger for whom she cared nothing.

  "Miss Sanborn, I am charmed, quite," the tall, fair-haired man said, after Gerald showed him into the parlor and vanished. Unsure of the procedure or how she could possibly be charming when she had yet to speak, Charlotte stood up to greet him, meeting him in the middle of the brightly colored oriental rug. He touched her hand to his lips before releasing it.

  "It is kind of you to come by," she said. He smiled broadly at that and she thought he should do so often, for it gave him a winsome set of dimples.

  "Mrs. Randall," he said, approaching Alicia's winged chair. "I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to enter your lovely home and to acquaint myself with your niece."

  It was a good start that only got better. Jason Farnsworth met the children with a boiled sweet for each of them. When they were all sufficiently satiated by tea and sandwiches, Jason invited Charlotte to go for a stroll. They started out along the length of the Common toward the business district, with Bridget walking discreetly behind with Lily and Thomas.

  Charlotte marveled over the hundreds of suited businessmen, who seemed to be hurrying from place to place. Jason pointed out where the Farnsworths had offices.

  "I understand from my aunt that your family is in import and export," Charlotte remarked, finding it easy to converse with her jovial new acquaintance. There was no undercurrent of tension, no feeling that she would sizzle if his arm brushed hers, just relaxed company.

  "For as long as Boston has had a harbor," Jason replied, launching into a family history upon which Charlotte was devoting all her attention until she saw the street sign for Court Street. Scollay Square was nearby.

  Without intending to, she'd been searching for that street sign and the place where she knew the offices of Malloy and Associates were located—where Reed had practiced his profession for nearly a decade. Was he there now? She longed to know if she was truly within a hundred yards of the man who had so changed her life.

  On his way back to Spring City. John's phrase had replayed in her brain again and again. Whatever was Reed up to? He had her head spinning, and he wasn't even there. She allowed Jason to direct her steps through the financial district until they were directly in front of Faneuil Hall.

  "The Cradle of Liberty," she remarked, referring to the meetings that took place there in the previous century.

  Jason arched an eyebrow. "Are you interested in history?"

  "Much more so than in shopping," said Charlotte.

  He looked surprised. "I don't think I know many women who take an interest in this sort of thing," he said. "Pardon me, that sounded rude."

  "Not at all," she said. It was probably unladylike of her to want to tromp through the building, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity. If there was no meeting going on, they could wander around at their leisure.

  "Shall we go in?"

  "As you wish," Jason said, holding the door for her.

  "I've spent many pleasurable hours reading the speeches of James Otis and Samuel Adams," she explained, as they entered the great auditorium where the so-called Sons of Liberty met. In her mind, Charlotte conjured an image of the room filled to overflowing, the balconies lined with concerned faces, as voices debated the fate of a new country.

  A shiver went down her spine. She was in the heart of a city that had shaped her nation. After a short while, however, Thomas yawned so broadly, Charlotte thought his face would split.

  "Time to leave," she said, making sure Bridget and the children were following.

  "You must be smart as a steel trap after reading so much," Jason remarked when they exited, and Charlotte couldn't tell if he was being condescending. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and smiled. After all, who could take offense or be cross when stepping out into the middle of Quincy Market. Street vendors were everywhere and Charlotte marveled at their liveliness.

  "Hot corn," called out one woman. "Fresh apples," yelled another. She couldn't resist letting Jason purchase shaved lemon ice for each of the children. But she turned away with a shudder when a boy, not much older than Lily, screamed out, "'Nother murder! Get your Gazette!"

  "How about we take a ride now?" Jason offered, smiling at her while gesturing in the air to his driver with a casual hand over his shoulder. Immediately, the vehicle that had been trailing them all afternoon was right beside them.

  Charlotte arranged her skirts on the black Morocco seat of the stylish carriage with the large gold "F" emblazoned on its plum-colored side. Lily sat next to her, with Thomas opposite, positioned firmly between Alicia's maid and Jason Farnsworth.

  Charlotte couldn't help it. Tossing decorum aside, she discreetly removed her gloves so she could brush her palms against the soft, goat leather seats. What a luxury. She relaxed and would have closed her eyes if Jason hadn't been there. But that would be beyond rude.

  Still, for a moment, despite Jason's friendly society, the coziness of his carriage reminded her of her peaceful study, her own comfortable chair, and her solitude. She sighed.

  "What is it, Miss Sanborn?" Jason's soft tones seemed to match the upholstery of his plush vehicle.

  She laughed at her own foolishness. "I don't want to sound provincial, but I cannot believe all that has happened in such a short time. If you could see where I was just a week ago and now, Faneuil Hall."

  "You could never be provincial," he returned, making her blush, "but I expect our lively city is, without a doubt, a vast change from... Spring City, was it?"

  "Yes, where—"

  "You and Thaddeus grew up."

  She closed her mouth quickly with a snap, as his words caught her by complete surprise. "How did you—? That is, do you know my brother?" she asked, her heart suddenly pounding at the thought of seeing Teddy.

  "I met him on a trip along the northwest passage." Her companion regaled her with a story that made her almost wish she were a man. It seemed they met soon after Thaddeus had left home, two young men from very different backgrounds, both searching for their purpose.

  Charlotte was astounded. "But how on earth did you know I was here, Mr. Farnsworth?" she asked.

  "Please, call me Jason. How did I know?" He tapped the side of his black bowler with his ivory handled cane. "I know my city, Charlotte. I keep my ear to its workings and know what's what." He looked out the window a moment as if contemplating those workings.

  "Thaddeus talked a
spell of wonder about his older sister, the renowned 'Charles Sanborn.' So, when it came to my attention that one Miss Sanborn was coming to stay with her aunt, I thought to myself, could it be? Thaddeus's older sister lives on Colorado, nigh two thousand miles from here, but sure enough, it was you. I sent over my card as soon as I knew you had arrived."

  She ignored the liberty he had taken in using her first name, and the fact that he hadn't told her aunt outright that he knew her family. After all, he was a friend of her brother's, and she decided then and there that she liked him, despite his slightly dandified ways.

  Uppermost in her mind, however, was one question, and she asked him directly, "Do you know where my brother is now?"

  Jason Farnsworth shook his blond head. "Not a clue. Thaddeus Sanborn comes and he goes, always a wanderer, but he's sure to show up sometime, no doubt when you least expect it."

  That was true. He showed up out of the blue, stayed a week—two, at the most—and then left, sometimes only once or twice a year.

  Though they always had a great deal of affection for each other, Teddy never hid his dislike of the humdrum of daily living in Spring City. And Charlotte tried not to let her heart break each time he left her behind.

  At the top of Alicia's front steps, Jason paused. "I hope you will allow me to take you out in the evening to see the brighter, sparkling side of Boston. Perhaps without your young charges," he added, gesturing after the children who had already run inside with Bridget.

  Intrigued, Charlotte could think of no reason to decline. So this was how it felt to simply be with a member of the opposite sex, without the searing desire that took over her whenever Reed was near. This was nice, a little tame by comparison, but also less draining. They'd been on an even keel all afternoon.

  But what about Reed? He was supposed to be showing her his birthplace, and she wanted more than anything to share it with him. She would hate to be busy when he returned from his trip. On the other hand, Jason had been more than kind.

  Surely, an evening out with him would be a welcome distraction while she awaited Reed's return. She looked up into Jason's dancing felt-brown eyes.

  "I would like that," Charlotte told him, then remembering how Alicia preferred to handle her social engagements, not to mention having no idea whether it would be acceptable for her to go out with Jason unchaperoned, she added, "but I couldn't possibly say when."

  "I wouldn't think of pinning you down, Charlotte," he said, leaning against the doorway to the annoyance of Gerald who was waiting to close it, "to a date, that is."

  Charlotte knew he was teasing her and smiled. It would be agreeable to spend more time with one of Thaddeus's friends.

  "Oh, what a dazzling smile," Jason added. "It pierced me right in my heart." He held his chest melodramatically. "Don't worry about saying when. I'll leave my card again and hope that our plans coincide for an evening. The sightseeing was delightful, Charlotte, as are you." He took her hand and kissed it again.

  As his carriage pulled away, Charlotte basked in his flattery for a moment, even though it was obvious he was a shameless flirt. She barely got in the door before her aunt emerged from the parlor.

  "On a first name basis, are we?" Alicia didn't look entirely displeased. It seemed one could be familiar with a man—if he was the right sort of man.

  "He turns out to be an old friend of Thaddeus's," Charlotte remarked. "I didn't even know my brother had been to half the places Jason mentioned."

  "Well," Aunt Alicia sniffed, "if he's been to Boston, he certainly hasn't contacted me."

  "Mr. Farnsworth didn't say Thaddeus had ever been here," Charlotte said, trying to soothe the older woman. They were getting along like bread and butter, despite Helen Belgrave, and Charlotte hated to have anything break the peace.

  It seemed that the issue of her questionable behavior would dissipate if she remained under Alicia's roof and allowed her aunt to keep an eye on her. Of course, Charlotte was determined to be on her best behavior at the party. Would Reed show up? The hope of dancing again in his arms was far too thrilling to renounce for the sake of decorum.

  * * *

  Unfortunately when the night of the ball arrived, Reed had not. Over the course of the week, Charlotte had made the acquaintance of two ladies who came calling to meet Alicia Randall's niece, but Charlotte had received neither a visit from Reed, nor any word that he was once more in Boston.

  Instead, it was Jason Farnsworth who escorted her to the Tremont House, as her aunt had predicted. She wore her new gown of midnight blue and allowed Bridget to do her hair as Alicia had suggested, styling it in an elegant chignon that showed off the graceful curve of Charlotte's neck.

  As she descended from Jason's carriage, she couldn't help wishing that she were in Spring City at Drake's barn with Reed and the children and the sweet smell of hay. But the children were home with Bridget, Reed was nowhere to be seen, and the smell of women's perfume thickly infused the night air.

  Charlotte walked between the four Doric columns of the hotel's entrance with her hand on Jason's arm and put a tentative smile on her face.

  "I can see at a glance that you are the loveliest woman here, Charlotte," Jason murmured in her ear as they descended the grand steps to the ballroom. "That is, I could, if I could take my eyes off of you."

  Charlotte had grown used to Jason's liberties with her name, not to mention his free-flowing compliments. She had appreciated his company over the past few days and was now extremely pleased to be with at least one familiar face.

  As for the rest of the glittering crowd, there was not a person that she recognized—until she saw John Trelaine across the room.

  A few women sat in a semi-circle with the men hovering around them as bees to sweet flowers. John handed a drink to a pretty round-cheeked woman and then looked up to catch Charlotte's eye.

  She felt a pang of guilt a moment later as she watched him take in her male companion, but she shook that off as a ridiculous notion. After all, John could not know with certainty that anything had occurred between her and Reed, unless Reed had confided in his associate. She doubted he would have openly compromised her in that way. Before she could approach John, she heard her aunt's voice.

  "There you are, Charlotte." Alicia, with her hair threaded with pearls and styled fuller than ever, called out from a regal chair that gave her a good view of the whole room.

  Charlotte approached the dais next to a set of large French doors leading to an expansive wraparound terrace. The doors stood open now to let in the cool night air. It was Jason who responded.

  "As promised, Aunt Alicia, I have delivered her to your party."

  Alicia looked at Jason carefully. There was a glint in her eye, as she admonished him.

  "First of all, I am not your aunt, nor have I given you leave to address me as such. Second, this is not my party, though I do believe it might not have come about if not for my participation." She gave a small smile of satisfaction. She looked at her niece.

  "You look lovely, my dear. You must meet the hosts, my good friend Amelia and her husband, Oliver. I think they're by the violinists."

  "In that case, Mrs. Randall," Jason amended, with a kiss to Alicia's gloved hand, "allow me to begin the rounds. I know just about everyone and will see to it that Charlotte does, too. Of course, as you say, we'll start with Mr. and Mrs. Wendell Holmes and work our way back to you."

  "It seems that I have nothing to say in the matter," Charlotte said, "but am to be trundled around like a carthorse."

  Alicia only laughed, so Charlotte allowed Jason to begin the introductions.

  "It won't be so bad," he promised, "I'll steer you clear of any tigers."

  An hour later, it did seem to Charlotte as if Jason knew everyone, and now, so did she. Or at least, she knew their faces even if she couldn't recall all their names.

  "Mr. Charles Greene," Jason said, and Charlotte turned to greet one more guest, "may I present Charles Sanborn."

  She gasped at his us
e of her pen name and started to protest, but then Jason added, "Charlotte, this is Mr. Greene of the Boston Post."

  "Oh, sir, it is an honor to meet you." Ten minutes went by in which they spoke of editors they both knew and writers they admired, and then it was nearly time to dance.

  "If you'll excuse me a minute, Mr. Greene, Mr. Farnsworth." Charlotte took leave of them and headed to where she'd seen other ladies going to check their hair. As she left the powder room, to her unwelcome surprise, she met with a familiar face.

  Helen Belgrave looked more like a wolf hunting her meal than an invited guest.

  "We ought to have a tête–à–tête, don't you agree, Miss Sanborn? You like the intimacy of one-on-one, I believe."

  There was a tone to her voice that Charlotte was not going to put up with.

  "You will kindly be civil or we will not have this discussion at all."

  Helen narrowed her dark eyes until they were merely slits. "Just what in blue blazes are you really doing in Boston?"

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows. So much for pleasantries in the cultured city.

  "I would have thought that was obvious. After all, it was you who spoke to the children's grandmother about my suitability as their guardian."

  "Oh!" Helen sounded peeved and exasperated at the same time. "As if I had dreamed that would bring you hundreds of miles. What does he see in a picayune creature like you?"

  Charlotte blanched at this indirect mention of Reed. It was odd, indeed, to have a stranger discuss her private affairs. But Helen was only getting started.

  "You are a mousy spinster from the middle of nowhere, a bookworm at that! When he came to St. Louis—"

  "Reed went to...," Charlotte trailed off, abashed that she had admitted to an interest in his comings and goings. But it was too late. Helen seized on her slip of the tongue like a cat on a mouse.

  "Reed," she sneered. "By what right do you call my lover by his Christian name?"