by Cat Cahill
“Of course! Thank you, dear. I’m sure it will be splendid!” Mrs. Jennings grabbed Eli’s hand. “Won’t it be, Eli?”
“Yes,” he said a bit stiffly. “It will.”
Molly drew her lower lip between her teeth. He was afraid of how he’d be received after the episode at the Prestons’ dance. She gave him a confident smile.
It would be her dinner party, and she’d ensure no one made Eli feel uncomfortable under her family’s roof.
MOLLY GLANCED ABOUT her aunt and uncle’s long dining-room table. The table was full, and the dinner party was off to a wonderful start. Aunt Ellen had seemed to take it as a personal challenge to plan and execute such an event with only a few days’ notice. Molly had thrown herself into helping. While she was happy that most of the guests they’d invited had accepted, she was particularly satisfied to see both Mr. Preston and Mr. Emerson in attendance. She’d only briefly had the opportunity to speak with Eli when he arrived with his mother. She hoped he would take advantage of the chance to speak with each of the men. She’d even strategically placed them nearby to make conversation easier.
Yet, as the dessert course was served, Eli, whom she’d seated across from her, conversed only with Miss Emilia Prentice, who sat to his left, and not with either Mr. Emerson or Mr. Preston, who sat on either side of Molly. It would be rude of him to ignore the ladies sitting on either side of him, but she’d assumed he’d chat with them only as long as propriety demanded before striking up conversation with the men.
Instead, she found herself fending off flirtatious conversation with each of the gentlemen. Thankfully, neither was as horrible as Mr. Browning or as dull as Mr. Carter. Molly kept a smile on her face as they vied for her attention and wished mightily Eli would look away from Miss Prentice.
As he laughed at something Emilia said, another thought occurred to Molly. Perhaps he didn’t speak with anyone else because he was more interested in Emilia. Molly had made her acquaintance at the birthday celebration she’d attended, and Emilia and her mother had come calling soon after. Emilia was friendly, though a bit shy, and quite pretty, with strawberry blonde ringlets that framed her round face and perfectly shaped pink lips.
“Miss Hill?”
Molly jerked her attention away from Eli and Emilia. Mr. Preston was looking at her, waiting for her response to a question she hadn’t heard. “Pardon?”
“I’d wondered if you might enjoy an excursion to the opera? Forrester’s Opera House is getting up a new production next week.” The gas lights in the dining room shone off Mr. Preston’s head as he smiled at her.
“Oh, I—”
“Perhaps you prefer the theater?” Mr. Emerson cut in. “I find the theater more interesting than the opera.”
“Well—”
“More interesting?” Mr. Preston let out a short, nervous laugh.
Molly sighed as the two bickered over the theater and the opera, and her attention wandered back to Eli. She wished she could toss her napkin at him. That would get his attention. He was wasting precious time, sharing smiles with Emilia when he could be speaking with these men instead. The men who were now bothering her, when in fact, she would enjoy neither the theater nor the opera. She much preferred walks out of doors or small gatherings of friends. Eli knew this, considering they’d discussed a traveling theatrical group when it came to Cañon City early last fall.
She frowned at Eli as Emilia laughed at something he’d said. Perhaps she would pitch her napkin at him. It would serve him right. Not only was he wasting time, he’d nearly kissed her a few days ago. Who would do such a thing and then flirt with another lady? Unless . . .
Molly’s doubts had been spot-on. She was just a friend to him. He’d gotten confused with her acting otherwise, and now he regretted it.
She realized, her heart sinking, that she was absolutely right.
Chapter Fourteen
Smoke drifted to the ceiling in the dining room after the ladies had adjourned to the drawing room. Eli sat back in his chair, the conversation of the other men moving around him like the smoke. The dinner had been a long, drawn-out, torturous affair. He’d spent the entire meal vainly trying not to stare at Molly. She was so beautiful tonight, with her dark hair looking softer than velvet and a shimmering white and gold dress that seemed to make her glow. And he clearly wasn’t the only one who’d noticed—Emerson and Preston hadn’t looked away from her all night. Watching the two of them fall all over themselves to claim her attention only served to rouse a primal desire to shove them both out of the way, and so Eli had kept his attention on the friendly Miss Prentice instead.
But now, with Molly off in the drawing room, he felt as if he could breathe again. Emerson was regaling the others with a story involving a saloon and—Eli thought he’d heard—a monkey.
“And then the fellow said no, so I socked him in the stomach. The monkey disappeared off into the streets. No one’s seen hide nor hair of him since.” Emerson finished with a flourish of his cigar.
The men around them laughed, and conversation turned to various instances of fisticuffs.
“I’d bet you it wasn’t anything like the way Jennings here punched Browning in the face,” a man whose name had escaped Eli said in response to another man’s claim.
Eli shifted in his seat as the others’ attention turned to him. Preston, he noticed, was the only one not smiling. Not surprising, since it was his family’s affair Eli had interrupted.
“That wasn’t anything,” he said, trying to shrug it off. He wished they’d speak of something else. Ideally, something to do with business so he could suss out more information from Preston and Emerson. He’d barely gotten anywhere with either of them.
“Wasn’t anything,” the man who’d first spoken said with a laugh. “The man wore a black eye all week.”
The others murmured in agreement as Preston glared at Eli.
Eli shrugged. “Can’t believe no one’s seen that monkey,” he said in the hopes of shifting the conversation.
“Why’d you hit him?” Preston asked as the room went silent.
Eli pondered for a moment how to answer without besmirching Molly’s reputation or saying anything he’d regret about Browning, as much as the man might deserve it. “He made Miss Hill uncomfortable.”
Preston frowned while Emerson looked downright angry. As much as Eli couldn’t stand either one of them spending time with Molly, at least these two seemed to be decent men. Which made it harder to believe either of them was the one responsible for demanding money from Eli’s mother.
“I’m glad you saw it,” Emerson said, as the older men near them engaged in a discussion of local politics.
“I am too,” Eli replied. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t stepped in. His actions might have made him persona non grata at some of the men’s homes, but that was nothing at all compared to Molly’s safety.
“She’s a sweet girl,” Preston said as he raised a water glass to his mouth.
“That she is.” Emerson’s voice was polite but Eli detected a slight edge to it.
Eli said nothing at all, despite the almost overwhelming desire to claim Molly as his in front of both these men. Annoying them would get him nowhere with his investigation.
Preston cast a glance at Emerson before saying, “She gave me a little token of her affection just the other day.”
His meaning was clear yet covert enough not to be construed as ungentlemanly, particularly as he looked at Emerson with a smug smile. He’d implied Molly had kissed him. Emerson pressed his lips into a line, but that was nothing compared to what raged inside Eli.
Eli clenched his hands into fists under the table as rising flames inside tempted him to fire back at Preston. He wouldn’t though. The brief moments he’d shared with Molly—the ones in which he’d very nearly kissed her—were theirs alone, and none of the business of any of the men seated at this table.
Unless it was also something she’d shared with Prest
on.
Eli stared at the man, as if that would make the truth evident. He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe Molly was the sort of girl who went about kissing every man who called on her. She’d just as much as said she had no interest in Preston or Emerson . . . hadn’t she? Preston was exaggerating in an attempt to eliminate his competition, that was all.
It had to be. Eli’s heart couldn’t stand for it to be otherwise.
Chapter Fifteen
Molly emerged from Mr. Preston’s Brougham carriage with a sigh of relief. He was nice enough, she mused as she allowed him to escort her to the door, but nothing about him made her heart beat faster. She didn’t yearn to see him again or wish he’d take her hand. Even with his balding pate, he wasn’t unattractive with his dark blue eyes and kind smile, but he simply was not the man for her. Even worse, every moment she spent in his company, she kept finding herself unintentionally comparing him to Eli.
“Thank you for a lovely drive,” she said, quickly extricating her arm from his at the door.
He reached for her hand, but she deftly maneuvered it to adjust her hat. He raised his awkwardly to smooth down the side of his hair. “I enjoyed it too. I’ll call on you again next week, if that’s suitable?”
Molly cringed inside, but forced herself to nod. She had to help Eli discover if Mr. Preston was the one to whom his father owed a debt, although she couldn’t imagine him threatening Mrs. Jennings. Mr. Preston was simply too nice.
She reached for the doorknob just as he tried again to claim her hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Preston. I’ll see you soon.” She smiled at him as she slipped inside and then shut the door, leaving him looking a bit bereft on the front porch.
Inside, she leaned against the doors. This was getting much harder. The more time she spent with Mr. Preston and Mr. Emerson, the more they believed she was interested in them. And the more they believed that, the worse she felt. It was wrong to lead them on so, and yet she could discover things Eli couldn’t.
One more visit with each of them, she told herself. She’d have to find out then, even if she had to ask very pointed questions. She couldn’t push it any farther and continue to feel like a decent person.
Besides, she wished to spend her time with someone else.
It was strange, thinking of Eli in that way, and yet it felt right. Of course, that nagging doubt that he didn’t feel the same way about her still sat in her stomach like a swallowed cherry pit. Molly pushed away from the door and removed her wrap. The afternoons had finally grown warm enough that she thought she might be able to leave it behind. Stevens the butler appeared from seemingly nowhere and took the wrap from her, along with her reticule.
“Mr. Jennings awaits in the parlor,” Stevens said with a pained voice. “I informed him you were out, and yet he insisted on waiting.”
“Thank you, Stevens,” Molly said. She gave him a smile to let him know it was all right—in fact, it was more than all right given the way her stomach seemed to flutter—and yet the butler’s expression remained the same.
In the parlor, Eli stood before the cold fireplace. He looked up when she entered, a smile immediately alighting upon his face. The fact that he looked so happy to see her made her feel giddy. She paused and gripped the doorframe, lest she find herself running into his arms or acting in some other foolish way. “Good afternoon, Eli. What brings you here?”
“I became curious about what else you might have discovered.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Curious enough you waited . . . how long for my return?” She oughtn’t push him, and yet seeing him grow flustered was just the reward for which she’d hoped. Perhaps the attention he’d paid Emilia at the dinner party meant nothing.
“It wasn’t long,” he said quickly. “Stevens—you know, I don’t believe he much cares for me—said you were out with Mr. Preston, and so I decided to wait.” His jaw worked as he looked at her. “To see what you learned, of course.”
“Of course.” Molly bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She let go of the doorframe and entered the room. Her aunt was out making calls herself, or she might have talked Eli’s ear off for however long he’d been here.
She glanced at the settee, thinking she should offer him a seat, and yet she didn’t feel as if she could sit herself. A restless energy moved through her, and she gripped her hands together to try to calm it.
Eli stood immediately in front of her, just a few inches away, and she was conscious of every single one of those inches. She found her voice buried somewhere deep down inside her. “I fear I didn’t learn much from Mr. Preston today. He did mention losing money on some investments, but he seemed optimistic about recovering the lost funds.”
Eli frowned. “He likely made it seem less serious than it is.”
“But why would he do that?”
His frown turned into something flat and emotionless. “The last thing he wants is his prospective wife thinking his business is in trouble.”
His prospective wife. Molly wanted to laugh at the words, but she couldn’t. It was just the thing she’d feared standing in the entry a few minutes ago. All the more reason to wrap this up as quickly as possible. She had no desire at all to become Mrs. Preston.
“I wish you’d been able to talk with him more at the dinner party,” she said, brushing those thoughts aside. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have sat you beside Miss Prentice.” She meant for the last sentence to come out lightly and teasing, but a pained expression shot across Eli’s face before disappearing into something more stiff. It was a look that made her feel as if the sheriff’s deputy were standing in her parlor, and not the Eli she’d come to know over the past several months.
“It simply wasn’t the right opportunity,” he said, his voice as empty as his expression.
Whatever in the world was wrong with him? She took a step forward, hoping to tease out a smile or a twinkle in his eye. “I could wrangle you an invitation to the Taylors’ dinner party next weekend. Or there’s the church social. You wouldn’t need an invitation to attend that.” She smiled up at him as she imagined the two of them sharing a slice of cake.
“No, that’s quite all right, thank you,” he said, finally extricating his hands from his pockets. Molly wished one of them would find her hand and draw her forward. And yet, he made no such move, instead resting one hand on the back of the wing chair while letting the other hang at his side.
Something felt off, and yet Molly couldn’t pinpoint it. Was it Miss Prentice? It couldn’t be. They barely knew each other. And if he desired to know her better, he’d be jumping at the opportunity to attend another social event.
She twisted her hands together and searched for something to say. “Mr. Emerson is coming around tomorrow. I’ll let you know what I discover.”
Eli let out a breath and moved toward the fireplace. He stopped, facing the mantel, his eyes on something Molly couldn’t discern. “You needn’t do so. I’ll find a way to meet with him.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” she said. “Would you like to sit?” She gestured at the chairs despite the fact he wasn’t looking at her.
He turned abruptly, facing her again. “I ought to get home.”
“All right.” Molly tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Thank you for paying me a visit. I wish I had more information for you.”
That same expression—the one that looked as if he’d chewed nails—crossed Eli’s face. His jaw worked and for a moment Molly thought he had something he wanted to say. But whatever it was, he must have changed his mind. He crossed the room and she followed him.
In the hallway, she retrieved his hat. When he took it from her, his fingers lingered on hers for a moment. Molly drew in her breath as he caught her eyes, and hope ignited in her heart.
It lasted a brief moment. He gave her a smile, and all felt as it should again. Perhaps this situation with his mother had been weighing heavily on his mind, particularly since they hadn’t uncovered anyt
hing useful lately. She mentally chastised herself for reading too much into his expressions and actions.
At the door, he took her hand. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please give your mother my regards.”
He smiled again, although there was something wistful about it. He bid her farewell, and as she watched him descend the stairs, she resolved to learn something useful from Mr. Emerson.
She’d do anything to relieve Eli of what worried him.
Chapter Sixteen
The evening air was warm, and Eli was glad he hadn’t hired a ride to Molly’s aunt and uncle’s house. He felt restless and frustrated, and this walk to the horse railroad stop was exactly what he needed.
The prospect of seeing her had driven him all day. While he sorted through more of his father’s papers, he imagined her brown eyes meeting his. When he went out to pick up an order from the dry goods store for Ma, he pictured Molly’s cheerful grin as they perused the store windows last week. And when he sent off a letter to Ben, all he could think about was how much he wished Ma hadn’t interrupted them in the parlor. If she hadn’t, he might have kissed Molly. And if he had . . .
He dodged a peddler who had set up shop on the boardwalk close to town. She’d been so eager to help him get to the bottom of this debt business that he hadn’t thought about what might happen. And what had happened was Molly spending more time with men like Emerson and Preston. And the closer Eli got to her, the more it bothered him. There was the way she’d deftly kept up conversation with both men seated beside her at the dinner party, not once dropping her smile or sparing more than the occasional glance toward Eli. Then of course, there was Preston bragging about receiving a “token” of Molly’s affection. Eli had just about convinced himself the man had said that only to get a leg up on Emerson, but then Molly said nothing when he’d referred to her as Preston’s prospective wife.