Prickles shot up her spine. The conversation grew too personal. Next thing, he’d be proposing.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the waiter reappeared setting their meal before them.
Cassidy inhaled the spicy aroma of roasted beef, potatoes, and glazed carrots on her plate.
“You do eat beef, I assume.” The doctor eyed her, the corner of his mouth tilted upward.
“Of course...it’s just...this has to be expensive.” She frowned.
“Nothing too expensive for my lady.”
She bristled, not liking his possessive attitude. Sitting back, she lifted her fork, poking one of the red potatoes. She sampled a bite of potato, then sliced off a piece of the beef. Lifting her fork to her lips, she bit into the morsel allowing the succulent juices to melt in her mouth. When she glanced at the doctor she found, to her consternation, his gaze fixed on her.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s excellent.” She reached for her wine glass.
“Then you’re pleased with my choice of meal. I didn’t want to assume but felt certain you’d enjoy my selection.”
She sipped her wine, then replaced the glass. “Yes, you chose well.”
He leaned forward. “I can help you, Miss Stuart. I have connections in Philadelphia. If your dream is to be a practicing physician, stick by me, and I’ll see you accomplish everything you dream.” He raised his glass, nodding for her to do the same.
She lifted her glass, and he clinked his against it.
“To our union,” he said.
Saying nothing, she took another sip and replaced her glass on the tabletop as unease crept over her again.
What union is he talking about?
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday morning Cassidy stood at the stove, scrambling a batch of eggs. After Dr. Madison had brought her home last night, she’d lain awake for hours going over their conversation. He seemed to trust her, but how would she ever get him to reveal his indiscretions? Her one chance would be if they spent time alone. Her skin crawled at the thought.
She scooped the eggs onto a plate and set them on the table. Sarah slouched in her usual seat, but Ma and Matt hadn’t yet arrived downstairs.
Sarah helped herself, then gazed at Cassidy as she took a seat across the table.
“Tell me, Cassie, what’s it like?”
Cassidy squinted. “You mean, the inn?”
“Yes.” Sarah sat up. “Mrs. Bigsley saw you ride through town in the doctor’s carriage last night. And after you’d gone rumors were spreading all over town. Where did you go?”
Cassidy shrugged. “The Westside Inn.”
Sarah sighed. “That’s the fanciest eatery around.” She served herself eggs, then glanced up. “He didn’t propose, did he?”
Cassidy scowled. “No, he did not. It’s way too soon anyway. I hardly know the man.”
“It’s because of George, isn’t it? You’re still not over him.”
“I am so.” She glared at Sarah, but heat crept up her face at the memory of their lovemaking.
Sarah lifted her fork, pointing the utensil straight out. “Well, reckon it’s for the best, since he left town yesterday with that woman from the boardinghouse. Mrs. Clayton...Clanton?” she waved her fork around. “I’m not sure of the name.”
Cassidy’s face heated. “Mrs. Claymore?”
“That’s the one.” She lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth. While chewing, she tilted her head, then swallowed. “He didn’t tell you he was leaving?”
“It’s his business, I reckon, and I couldn’t care less.” Cassidy shrugged and spooned eggs into her mouth. She’d not allow Sarah to see how his departure had rattled her, but a lump rose in Cassidy’s throat. She chewed slowly, hoping she didn’t choke.
Her sister frowned. “I think you’re still in love with a man who can’t give you anything. It would be for the best if George leaves and never comes back.”
Cassidy managed to swallow her eggs, then sighed. “Can we talk about something else?”
Sarah shrugged but said nothing. She polished off her plate and rose from the table, angling her belly over the tabletop. “I guarantee now George is gone, you’ll start to see things in a new light.”
I very much doubt it. Why didn’t he tell me he was leaving? Her face burned, and she hoped Sarah didn’t notice. Cassidy didn’t want to field more questions about George.
After her sister left the room, Cassidy shoved her plate aside. Ma and Matt strolled in chattering. They sat and filled their plates with eggs and biscuits.
“Cassie, are you all right?” her mother asked.
She glanced up to find her mother and brother staring at her. “Oh, yes, Ma. I ate with Sarah. I’ll go out and tend to the garden, then come back in to clean up after you two are done.”
“I’ll take care of the kitchen,” her mother said. “You go on ahead. I’m sure you have something to attend to in the office, anyway.”
Cassidy frowned. “After I’m finished in the garden, I suppose I could check my appointment book and get the examining room ready for the first patient...if I have one.”
She left them to finish breakfast and retreated to the front garden, snatching the claw on the way. She planned to yank out any weeds invading the flowers. Although still early, bright sunlight promised a warm May day. As she surveyed the petunias and hyacinths, searching for weeds to pull, her mind drifted back five years to a month after the war ended.
George disappeared near the end of the war, and she’d received word he’d been taken prisoner. She’d spent countless hours worrying about him and wondering if she’d ever see him again. After the surrender had been signed, she waited every day for word of him. But nothing.
The day he returned had been a bright sunny day like this, and she’d been in this very spot, working in the garden. When she spotted a lone man walking up the road in a soldier’s uniform, she gathered her skirts and raced to the gate.
Her heart rose to her throat at the sight of George. Although he’d lost weight and looked like a scarecrow in his oversize uniform, he never looked better. He asked her to marry him, and she said yes.
Not long after, everything had gone wrong. He seemed agitated and unsure of himself as she and her family discussed wedding plans. And two days before they were to be married, he told her he was leaving. He didn’t feel worthy of marrying her.
She tried to convince him otherwise, but he left anyway. After a period of mourning for him, she decided to go on with her life. And she’d been doing just fine until he showed up again.
Now, knowing he wasn’t a changed man, just a man who’d perfected his gambling skills and womanizing while away, her face burned in shame for allowing him to bed her. She hated him. He’d completely disrupted her ordered life, and she didn’t know how she’d react if he returned. The memory of his dark eyes, tobacco, and leather scent and lean-muscled frame sent her traitorous pulse tingling. Why had she trusted him? Was he really investigating Dr. Madison? What if all he’d told her and Quinn had been a lie?
****
Cassidy sat in her office reading over patient files. What few she had anyway. She needed something to take her mind off George. How could she have been so stupid?
The raw hurt and anger set her teeth on edge. The words on the files swam before her eyes.
She folded her arms atop the desk and sank her head down. She’d allowed him back into her heart, but this was worse, far worse than when she’d accepted his proposal five years ago.
She bit her lip, willing herself not to give in to tears. Her mother and Sarah were right. He was no good. Not the marrying kind. If not for this investigation he’d involved Quinn and her in, she’d break all ties with him.
A light rap at the door caught her off guard. “Yes?” she called, patting her hair and wiping any tell-tale smudges from her eyes.
“Cassie,” her mother said.
“Come in, Ma.”
Her mother peered in, a frown crossi
ng her face. “The hotel clerk has a letter for you. Says he was told to hand deliver it.”
Cassidy sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
Once her mother left, she gathered herself, smoothing her skirt and checking her appearance in the mirror. Deciding she looked presentable, so no one would sense the turmoil of the past few hours, she descended the stairs and stepped to the door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cassie.” Mr. Stanton tipped his hat.
She smiled. “Hello, Mr. Stanton. My mother said you’ve a letter for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the note. “I promised I’d deliver it.”
She frowned. “Promised who?”
He waved his hand toward the letter. “I’m sure you’ll know once you read it.” He tipped his hat again. “Good day.”
She watched as he strode down the porch steps and garden path whistling a tune.
She glanced at the letter, recognizing the handwriting. George.
She had a sudden urge to throw the paper in the fireplace, but her hand stilled when she realized the hearth wasn’t lit.
What good would throwing the letter in there do? Her heart fluttered and she swallowed, clutching the paper to her chest.
A glimpse of skirts told her Ma stood nearby, likely curious about who sent the letter. She strode to her office and closed the door.
Settling into her desk chair, she lifted the letter and broke the seal. Unfolding the paper, she hesitated. She didn’t care what George had to say.
But curiosity won out over anger.
Dearest Cassie,
I regret I have to leave for a bit. But I promise when I return I’ll explain and set things right.
I love you,
George
She crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it across her desk.
The son-of-a-bitch!
Every time they got close, he ran.
And his assurance that he’d return meant nothing.
He’d taken everything she had to give, and now he’d left with no explanation.
If and when he did come back, she’d tell him to go to hell.
Chapter Twenty
Wednesday afternoon, Quinn pulled Cassidy aside and invited her to take a walk with him into town.
“Have you talked to George about Madison?” he asked as they strolled toward the center of town. “I’ve been too busy catching up on patients to pay attention to what he or Madison is doing. Has George found anything out?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. At least, nothing incriminating. Now that I’ve volunteered to work with the doctor, maybe I can get him to admit to something that will aid the investigation, if George even comes back.”
Quinn yanked her to a stop. “What do you mean, if he comes back?” He lifted his hat and raked a hand through his rusty-colored hair. “George would never allow you to be alone with that man and neither will I.”
Cassidy shrugged. “George left two days ago on the train in the company of Mrs. Claymore.” Her cheeks burned.
“Two days ago? I wondered why he wasn’t coming around. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference would it have made?”
“I would have been more vigilant, instead of preoccupied with my workload.” Quinn scowled. “Who’s Mrs. Claymore, anyway? And stop squeezing my elbow so tight.” He moved his arm to help release her grip.
“A mysterious and beautiful woman staying at the boardinghouse. I met her last week, and she’s been seen in town talking to George. Now, she’s left with him for God knows where.” She propped her fists on her hips and faced her brother.
“He didn’t tell you where he’s going? Cassie, I’m sorry. I really thought he’d changed.”
She sighed. “So did I, but he and I are through now.”
“What about the investigation of Dr. Madison?”
She shrugged. “George’s story may have been a ruse to get to me.”
“I don’t understand.” Quinn raised his brows.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m done with him.”
“What about Madison? Are we finished with him, too?”
“Of course not. No matter what else, he’s trying to take all our patients. We have to stop him before we don’t have a practice left to call our own.” She gazed at her brother. “If you still want to rebuild Pa’s practice, that is?” The thought occurred to Cassidy that Quinn might have been offered a place on staff at the hospital, although he hadn’t hinted at that since he’d returned, but he had so little to come back to town for.
Quinn gazed across town square toward the mercantile. “I want to see this thing with Madison through whether George is with us or not.”
“I’m so glad, Quinn.” She clasped his arm. “I think you and I can expose him.”
He scowled. “But I don’t like that you’re getting so close to him. Ma told me he’s been courting you. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. I started seeing him on a social basis to try to draw him out.”
“If I hadn’t been so busy, I would have talked you out of such a dangerous venture. I’m surprised George allowed you to do that.”
Cassidy scowled. “He has no say in the matter.”
“Well, I’m sure old George was none too happy.” Quinn narrowed his gaze. “He didn’t try anything, did he?”
Cassidy’s face heated. “You mean Madison?”
“Of course, I mean Madison. Who else...” Quinn allowed the sentence to die. “Were you and George, ah, er...?”
“Not your business, Quinn.” Cassidy swallowed the lump in her throat.
As they strolled to the center of town, her hand resting on her brother’s arm, she noticed his attention drawn to a couple of young women with ribbon-laced straw hats and baskets hung on their arms.
Following his gaze, she smiled. Miss Elizabeth Baker, the schoolteacher, stood at the fruit stand, fingering a peach.
“Why don’t you go and talk to her?” She poked her brother.
His throat worked as he gazed at the teacher with a lost puppy dog expression. “You sure she doesn’t have a beau?”
“I’m certain.” She gestured for him to approach the woman.
“Maybe she has one back where she came from.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” Grasping Quinn’s arm, she steered him in the schoolteacher’s path.
Colliding with Quinn, Miss Baker gasped and dropped her basket.
“Begging your pardon, Miss,” Quinn said. “Allow me to get that.” He retrieved the basket and glared in Cassidy’s direction. “I’m afraid my sister is feeling pushy today.”
Miss Baker straightened her hat and accepted the basket from Quinn’s hands. Cassidy couldn’t help but notice the shy, appraising glance the woman gave her brother.
“Oh, Miss Stuart,” she said.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Baker,” Cassidy apologized. “My brother’s right. This is all my fault.”
“So good to see you again, Dr. Stuart.” Her hazel eyed gaze roved over Quinn again.
“Ma’am.” Quinn tipped his hat.
“I haven’t seen you around town lately.”
“Oh, I’ve been here, but I’ve been immersed in catching up on Cassie’s patient files, since I’ll be working with her now. I’m eager to help Cassie rebuild our father’s practice.”
“That would be a fine tribute, sir.”
Quinn grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. My sister and I think so too.”
“Your sister has already treated me for a cut on my arm. I’ve told her I want to keep seeing her for other ailments.” Her skin turned a bright pink, and she batted her pale lashes.
“Cassie’s a fine physician, ma’am, despite what anyone around here says.”
Cassidy caught her brother’s gaze, giving him a thankful smile.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing both of you again, then.” Miss Baker lowered her lashes as she stepped forward to a
scend the steps to the mercantile.
As she disappeared into the store, Cassidy gripped Quinn’s arm. “I’d definitely say she’s intrigued by you, big brother.”
He frowned. “You reckon so?”
Cassidy grinned. “You are so dense. Of course she likes you. Did you see the way she looked at you and batted her eyes?”
He lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Women. Guess I’ll never understand them.”
Cassidy sighed. “If you don’t go after that woman, I’ll...”
“You’ll what?”
She threw up her hands. “Invite her to the new ice cream parlor at the edge of town.”
“You sure? I don’t want to seem too forward.”
She patted his forearm, then threaded her hand through the crook of his arm. “Let’s go home, and I’ll tell you all you need to know about women.”
****
Wednesday night, George felt almost presentable after a bath, a shave, and a clean set of clothes. He’d arrived in Philadelphia, early in the evening and obtained a room at a hotel off Chestnut Street. He felt horrible about not telling Cassidy the truth about his post as a Pinkerton agent, but if word got to Madison, the man would likely run or take even more devious measures to prevent his downfall.
Since nothing could be done about the doctor until George returned to Burkeville, he decided he needed a night on the town to clear his mind for the work ahead. He hated like hell to hurt Cassidy. He’d done far too much in that regard. He may have lost her forever, but he hoped, once he could explain, she’d understand and take him back.
One of the hotel clerks apprised him of a tavern down the street that held a nightly poker game. He excelled at poker. Had learned to play as a lad and the game whiled away the endless hours of waiting while in camp during the war. Soldiering was nothing but intense anxiety before and during a battle, followed by exhaustion and boredom. Poker eased the strain then and would so now. He’d even engaged in a few games in a back room of the local tavern in Burkeville. Gambling turned out to be a good cover for him, since as far as the townsfolk knew, he had no job. This way he could appear to be earning his keep at the hotel. Before joining the Pinkerton agency, his sole income had been winnings from card games. After a few games in the Philadelphia tavern with two different locals, who he cleaned out, he sat back and surveyed the tiny, smoke-filled room.
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