The Lady Who Saw Too Much

by Thomasine Rappold

  “So, who was he?”

  Gia glanced up, surprised. Alice regarded her with more curiosity than judgment, and Gia inhaled a small breath of relief.

  “That’s what’s so silly,” Gia said. “I don’t know. All I know is the love that filled my heart as I stared down at our interlaced hands felt so wonderful. So real.” She shook her head. “So much so, I can’t help wondering if he’s out there somewhere. This mysterious man who leaned on a cane and made me feel loved.”

  Alice cast her gaze to the floor.

  Gia couldn’t blame her for her awkward response. In light of Landen’s contempt for Gia, hearing the words out loud sounded pathetic to her own ears.

  “I told you it was silly.”

  Alice shook her head. “It’s not silly at all.” Not a hint of reproach marred the girl’s face. Alice had the makings of a true friend, and Gia’s heart swelled with growing fondness for her future sister-in-law. “It was a beautiful dream.” She reached for a handkerchief and dabbed at Gia’s tears. “That’s why it’s so difficult to let it go.”

  The dream was the only good thing Gia had left home with. She’d tried so often to finish the dream, to return to it—to him. With a heavy heart, she endeavored to put it aside, but she’d never discard it.

  The door flew open, and the sound of Clara’s voice flooded the room. “See to it the champagne is properly chilled, and the flutes are sparkling,” she said to the harried maid she left in the hall as she swished into the room.

  Dressed to the nines, Clara looked radiant. Despite her seventy-plus years, her energy was relentless. As was her attention to detail. For the past week, the stout woman had barreled through the house like a loaded cannon, firing preparation orders at every turn. Get this, get that, do this, do that. And everyone from the gardener who’d trimmed the hedges to the pastor, who would perform the ceremony, had scurried to accommodate, including Landen, which had surprised Gia the most.

  “I have something for you, Gianna,” Clara said, her face aglow with excitement. She opened the small box in her hand, then placed it on the dressing table in front of Gia.

  Gia glanced down at the cameo nestled inside the velvet-lined box. “It’s lovely.”

  Clara puffed her ample chest. “That broach has been in the family for generations. Every woman in the Elmsworth family has worn it during her wedding ceremony.”

  “My mother wore this?” Alice asked, leaning in for a closer look.

  “Yes, of course,” Clara said. “Landen’s mother wore it as well. God rest her pitiful soul,” she muttered with a shake of her head.

  The grim comment piqued Gia’s interest in the story of Landen’s mother. Something told her there was an intriguing tale to be told, but Clara’s solemn expression during the heavy silence that followed deflated Gia’s urge to prompt for more.

  “It’s tradition to wear something borrowed for good luck,” Clara said with a renewed lilt in her voice. She patted Gia’s shoulder. “I’ve a feeling you’ll need it.” She started from the room. “Come, Alice. I need you to help me with my rhinestone headpiece.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “One might think she were the bride.”

  Gia smiled, nodding in agreement. “Thank you for helping me get ready, Alice.”

  “You’re welcome.” Alice kissed Gia’s cheek and then hurried after her aunt, who’d rushed off at lightning speed.

  Lifting the cameo carefully from its velvet bed, Gia caressed her thumb over the regal profile of aged ivory. It was a lovely piece, made more priceless by its history. A history she was about to become a part of. Clara’s surprising comment about Landen’s mother echoed in her head.

  Gia would enter this family dragging a dark past with her, but she’d been so engrossed in hiding her secrets it hadn’t occurred to her that the Elmsworths might have a few secrets of their own.

  She opened the clasp to pin the broach to her collar. The sudden heat in her palm signaled a warning. Her flesh prickled. Her breath hitched. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the unstoppable force, as the vision emerged from the darkness, sucking her in.

  The smell of bourbon filled her nose. The air became stiflingly hot. Clara lay in bed, her face deathly white against her disheveled gray hair. Clutching the sheets, she moaned, writhing in pain. Her eyes bulged with fear.

  With a gasp, Gia opened her eyes. Blood pulsed at her temples. Slumping back in the chair, she sank against the crush of her veil behind her, too drained to move. She unfurled her clenched fist, staring down at the cameo in her palm until her racing pulse slowed.

  Still trembling with the dread the image had induced, she shot to her feet. She paced the room, trying to gather her wits. Somehow she had to warn Clara. But how? How could she possibly warn the woman about something that would happen—something she had no logical explanation for knowing? She pictured herself, kicking and screaming, as Landen carted her off to the asylum.

  She paced faster, skirts swaying over the hoops beneath. Lost as to what she should do, she knew she had to see Clara. While she had no idea what she’d say, perhaps something would come to her.

  She hurried to Clara’s room, where she found her alone, still fussing with the fancy headpiece sparkling on her head. “What do you need, Gianna?” she asked as she primped in the mirror.

  Gia’s eyes fixed on the bed. Recognizing the massive carved headboard as the one in her vision, Gia scrambled for words, her mind reeling. “Clara, are you feeling all right?”

  “My nephew is finally getting married,” Clara crowed to her own reflection. “I feel wonderful.” She narrowed her eyes and turned from the mirror. “Why do you ask?”

  Gia fumbled for an adequate answer. “You’re pale.”

  Clara frowned. “I’m old.” She gave a sharp fluff to her royal blue skirts. “But unlike Bea, I refuse to use my age as an excuse to dwell on every ache and pain.”

  Gia stiffened. “So, you’re not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.” Her hands shot to her hips. “And I’m busy.”

  “Too busy,” Gia offered. “With all the wedding preparations, you’ve had little time to rest.”

  Clara waved her away. “I’ll get plenty of rest in Saratoga.”

  Or she’d contract a terrible illness there. “Perhaps you should consider postponing the trip.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “Tonight is your wedding night. Since Landen refuses to take you on a proper honeymoon, you should at least be allowed the privacy of the house.” She pursed her lips in a disapproving manner that made Gia’s cheeks flush. “Not that privacy matters to the pair of you,” she muttered. “But Alice and I will depart after the wedding, never the less.” She slipped on her gloves. “Two days should suffice.”

  Two entire days—alone—with Landen. The sudden shift in Gia’s focus could not be reined. Despite her trepidation about the upcoming night, an unbridled excitement coursed through her blood at the thought of sharing Landen’s bed. Her stomach lurched as her mind veered wildly with imagined scenarios. With the thought he might kiss her as he had that night in his room, touch her as he had. Heat flooded her face and swirled in her belly. She blinked hard, reclaiming her focus.

  “But, Clara—”

  “Enough, Gianna.” Clara took an impatient breath. “All brides are nervous on their wedding day.” She clasped Gia’s hands in hers, and Gia appreciated her attempt to put her at ease. “There’s no knot so tight as the bond of marriage.” Clara let go of Gia’s hands and spun away. “But we all manage to survive.”

  So much for gentle reassurance.

  “Now stop dawdling, and go finish getting ready.”

  Biting back the urge to blurt out everything, Gia did as directed. At the moment, she had no other choice. Trying to explain the vision would be fruitless, especially now, when Clara’s attention was so otherwise engaged. The highly anticipated marriage of her nephew would commence come hell or high water, and nothing anyone could say would d
istract the woman from seeing Landen’s wedding went off without a hitch.

  Once back in her room, Gia contemplated what she might do. Picking up the cameo, she held it tightly, trying to prompt another vision that might determine Clara’s fate. When nothing happened, Gia pinned the piece to her collar and tried to force her fears from her mind.

  Clara seemed fit as a fiddle. While Gia’s vision had offered no inkling as to when the woman would fall ill, the bed in the vision told her she’d fall ill in this house. This detail, when coupled with the current sound state of Clara’s health, led Gia to conclude that Clara was safe for the time being.

  Gia had to believe this if she hoped to get through this day. Once Clara returned from Saratoga, Gia would keep a keen eye on her. In the midst of placating herself with this reasoning, she heard a knock on the door.

  “The pastor has arrived,” Alice said as she peeked into the room. “Everyone is ready.”

  Gia took a calming breath and followed Alice out the door. Landen stood in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Her heart fluttered. Wearing a dark morning coat and gray cravat, he looked so handsome. And unhappy.

  While she’d thought herself prepared to bear the burden of his misery in exchange for saving his life, looking at him now, shoulders slumped, head bowed in defeat, she wasn’t so sure. She preferred his anger to this. When he spotted her on the stairs and his eyes turned to blue ice, she welcomed his contempt and disdain like a pair of old friends.

  He would never forgive her for ruining his life. The memory of Charlotte Filkins’s pained face flashed in her mind. She blinked it away and descended the stairs. With each careful step, she grew more conscious of the heavy hoops and petticoats beneath her full skirts. The beautiful lace and silk trappings were made heavier by her doubts and the sight of the stranger she’d wed.

  She knew nothing about him. All she knew was his anger. The anger she’d caused by forcing him to this moment. And his kiss—the heat that burned in his eyes when stoked by desire. Anger and desire. Hardly the stuff upon which to build marriage.

  The distance to her groom closed, and her heart pounded faster. To her pleasant surprise, Landen’s sharp frown eased as she neared. He straightened at attention, his features unmoving, except for his eyes. The flicker of heat in his gaze told her he liked what he saw. The deep swallow he took confirmed her suspicion.

  Despite everything, he still wanted her. Her heart leapt. The thought sent her soaring. Not that she was so foolish as to hope he might ever love her. But if his desire for her could somehow thaw his glacial hatred, perhaps he might grow to tolerate her. Even care for her.

  This hope blossomed as he stared at her, speechless. His lips parted as though he were about to speak. She stared up into his handsome face, waiting for some words of reassurance. Anything that might help her believe she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

  Instead, he offered only his arm when he said, “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 8

  An hour later Landen found himself married. To his surprise he felt no differently than he had before reciting his vows. The sky hadn’t come crashing down upon his head, and the world went on as if nothing had changed. And yet, nothing would ever be the same.

  He felt so damn foolish. All these years he’d focused on securing the futures of his siblings. While Alice suffered from crippling shyness, Alex was afflicted with the condition of chronically falling in love. Landen had set his sights so firmly on the challenge of assuring they’d marry well, he’d never imagined, for one moment, he’d be the one entering into a dubious union.

  Alex, especially, would appreciate this irony. Just last year, Landen had to intervene by talking Alex out of proposing marriage to a tavern maid, who was clearly after his money. Alex was currently in Syracuse and in love yet again. He’d written Landen of their plans to marry after Alex’s graduation, but Landen doubted the relationship would survive that long. Alex was bringing his fiancée to Misty Lake to meet the family, but even if Landen disapproved of the woman, there’d be little he could say. He had lost all credibility when it came to advising his brother on marriage matters, and whatever this woman’s circumstances, Alex was certain to throw this fact in Landen’s face.

  He swallowed this bitter pill along with the last gulp of his second glass of champagne. Watching Gia from where he stood by the fireplace, he still couldn’t believe she was his wife. The champagne had loosened the tense knot in his stomach, and now he stood, merely numbed by his marriage to a woman whom he barely knew.

  Gia sat in the corner of the room, Alice at her elbow. Despite everything, he had to credit Gia’s unwavering loyalty to Alice. She didn’t flit about, the center of attention, as most brides usually did. Rather, people flitted toward her. A damn flame drawing the doomed moths.

  And draw them, she did. Men swarmed around her, as they had at the garden party, vying for the attention of Misty Lake’s newest beauty. All harboring the same admiration in their eyes. Aunt Clara and Alice had done a fine job with Gia’s bridal array. And he, the most foolish moth of them all, found it difficult to take his eyes off her.

  Gia spoke something to Alice and then walked toward the table that held the punch bowl. She took a long sip from her glass, then headed outside to the patio. Craning his neck toward the window, he noticed she stood alone in a rare moment he could not pass up.

  He crossed the room, then stepped out to the patio. Unaware of his approach, Gia stood at the stone wall, fiddling with the ring on her finger.

  “My aunt insisted I purchase a ring.”

  She stiffened in surprise but didn’t look up. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she uttered more to herself than to him.

  The sincerity in her voice fell over him like a spell. He stiffened, shaking off the rush of satisfaction spurred by her approval. “As I said, my aunt insisted.”

  That much was true. But his plan to purchase a simple gold band flew out the window the moment he’d spotted the yellow diamond ring in the jeweler’s glass case. For some inexplicable reason, he’d wanted Gia to have it. Not solely because he could afford it, but because it had reminded him of her. Vibrant and brilliant. Infinite facets, one upon the other, so blindingly beautiful. Yet hard enough to cut glass.

  How easy it was to forget the dazzling gems were merely stones at their core. Despite the analogy, despite everything, he wanted this woman. His wife. Anger prickled inside him. Her citrus scent drifted toward him on the breeze. That damn dress, stark white and buttoned up to her ears. Knowing what hid beneath the frilly layers of her skirts only enticed him more. The unforgettable curve of her hips through the sheer night rail she’d worn to his room, the warmth of her body pressed to his, left him stalled in a memory he didn’t want to escape.

  “A ring such as that one will be difficult to ignore,” he said. “I thought it a perfect reminder.”

  “Reminder?”

  “Every time you look at it, you’ll be reminded that you’re a married woman.”

  She stared, perplexed. “You expect I might forget?”

  “I expect a faithful wife.”

  She bristled at his insinuation. If possible, the crimson flush of her cheeks made her prettier. She lifted her chin. “And may I expect the same faithfulness from my husband?” She crossed her arms. “Or shall I pose that question to Charlotte Filkins?”

  She was too damn bold for her own good. He frowned, more because she’d caught him off guard. “Do not insult Charlotte in my presence.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  He blinked, surprised, once again, by her boldness. And the unmistakable distress in her eyes. While the answer to her question was a resounding no, he found himself withholding any reply.

  Gia shifted her weight. As a newly married woman, he could see how this might hurt her, and oh, how he wanted to hurt her. Marrying a man who did not love her was one thing—marrying a man who was in love
with another woman was quite another.

  She swallowed hard at his silence, averting her eyes. With a toss of her head, she recovered quickly. “Not that I care a whit. Feel free to carry on with whomever you like.”

  He shook his head, smiling at her blunt retort. “While your permission is appreciated, you are my wife now, Gia. And as such, I promise I shall bestow all my carnal desires upon you.”

  * * * *

  Gia gritted her teeth, detesting him now as much as he so obviously detested her. Why on earth was she bothering to save the insufferable man’s life? Why on earth did she care?

  Perhaps, she’d turn out to be the culprit responsible for his floating in the creek. The horrible thought shamed her, but she could not stop herself. The man vexed her beyond reason.

  The damn smirk on his lips told her this was the reaction from her that he sought. To unnerve her with his endless reminders of the intimacies she was now expected to share with him. Resenting his attempt to exert some husbandly power over her, she refused to give him the satisfaction of playing into his hand.

  Inhaling a quick breath, she met his smile with one of her own. Placing a firm hand on his arm, she rose to her toes. “I look forward to it,” she whispered into his ear before she strode away.

  She glanced over her shoulder, enjoying his stunned expression as he watched after her. Somehow, that expression was worth lowering herself to his level. She hated to admit it, but rattling him was also great fun.

  Once inside the house, she felt differently. Liar, wanton, manipulator. She had no idea who she was anymore. Her thoughts meandered to her parents. How shocked they would be if they knew she was married. More likely, they were well past caring. She had no doubt they were relieved to be rid of her. They’d proven this by not coming after her.

  Gia shook away thoughts of the past. She should have held her tongue about Charlotte. Had the man any honorable feelings toward his former lover, he wouldn’t have kissed Gia the way he had in the first place. But nothing about Landen Elmsworth seemed honorable at the moment.