Jane Goodger

by A Christmas Waltz

  “You’re right,” she said, feeling the strain of the last weeks hit her like a tidal wave. He pressed a handkerchief into her hand and said nothing as she cried copious tears. “It’s clear that Carson wasn’t expecting me. I know that. I’m not stupid. Nor blind. And it’s just as clear he wishes I hadn’t come. He was so different back in England. Like a different man altogether. When he looked at me then, it was like I was the most important thing in the world to him. I don’t understand it. I don’t think…” She let out another sob. “I don’t think he…he…loves me at all.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Boone said. And Amelia looked up at him with ridiculous hope in her eyes. “He’s a man who likes his freedom. I think he likes you too much, and it scares him a little.”

  “Then why did he ask me to marry him? Why did he formally ask my brother for my hand? It was in the Times,” she said, as if that would prove to the world that Carson did, indeed, love her. Oh, how she wished Carson was here reassuring her, instead of this cold man in front of her.

  As Amelia watched, Boone’s cheeks turned ruddy and he looked down at his hands again.

  “Was it for the money?” she asked, slightly horrified by that thought. But the man across from her just gave her a confused look. “If not the money, then what? He begged me to…” She stopped. Carson hadn’t begged her to marry him, he’d begged her to make love to him. All those nights he’d kissed her and touched her and she’d push him away when he went too far, telling him over and over she would not do that until she wore his ring. She’d very nearly succumbed more than once, because, Lord, he could be so very persuasive with those hands and that mouth.

  Amelia slumped back in her chair and stared at Boone until she saw the truth in his face. “For that?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “But surely you suspect?”

  Boone shook his head once, almost as if avoiding a blow. “I don’t know what goes on in that boy’s head. I never have. I think you need to have a serious talk with him. Tomorrow.”

  Amelia nodded and moved a piece of carrot around the bowl with her spoon, just to give herself something to do other than cry. “Why would he do that? It can’t be true. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelia said, her anger starting to grow. “What man would get formally engaged just for the pleasure of making love to a woman?”

  Boone gave her a strangely intense look, as if he could see right through her. “A man would,” he said softly.

  Amelia shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. And when I see Carson, he’ll tell me. I’m tired and weepy and for some reason you’re being cruel to someone you don’t know. I don’t even think you know your brother, either. I know him,” she said, holding her hands against her heart as fresh tears fell.

  “You’re probably right,” he said without meeting her angry gaze.

  “I know I am.” And at that moment Amelia was completely sure of herself; all the doubts she had about Carson swept away. Carson had been happy to see her, had held her and made her feel loved. No man could touch her and kiss her the way he had unless he loved her. Yes, he should be here with her now instead of his rude brother, but he was probably doing something important, something for her, no doubt. Carson was the most considerate, kind, exciting man she had ever met, and his brother was simply being contrary. And if Carson lied about certain things, it was understandable. He loved her so much, he wanted her to love him back, and probably lied about the big ranch because he knew her brother would never have agreed to their marriage otherwise.

  Amelia gave an inner grimace at that thought. Edward would be livid to know his little sister had traveled all this way only to be put in the tiny back room of a shop. She prayed her brother never found out that Carson had lied so outrageously. It had been difficult enough to get Edward to agree to allow her to marry a commoner, never mind a man who didn’t appear to have a pence to his name.

  Her brother had just married an American girl, so he’d been more lenient with her than he might have been otherwise. Edward was many things, but he certainly wasn’t a hypocrite. She’d loved him for that, for his willingness to let her follow her heart, even though it meant following it all the way to Texas. She just prayed her brother never found out that the letter she’d claimed had been from Carson sending for her had been nothing but a blank piece of paper.

  “You know how to work the pump?” Boone asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “The pump?”

  Boone motioned to a water pump on the large kitchen sink. “Yes, of course,” Amelia said. She didn’t point out that they’d had hot and cold running water from faucets in her home, and that the only pump she’d ever used had been in their gardens.

  When she didn’t immediately move, Boone nodded toward her bowl. “I’ve got to return that tonight or George will have a fit.”

  “Oh,” she said, staring down at the bowl. “You want me to clean it.”

  “If you could.”

  “Oh.” Amelia would never admit that she had never washed a dish in her life. She went to the sink and rinsed the bowl, wiping it clean with a cloth that hung from a hook above the sink. She began to giggle and turned to Boone, who stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

  “That was the first time I’ve ever cleaned a bowl,” she said. “And I do believe I’ve done an outstanding job of it.” She held up the clean bowl for his inspection.

  Boone just shook his head. “Lady, you are in a world of trouble.” He took the bowl and left the kitchen, leaving Amelia behind, giggling and thinking she had, indeed, gone quite mad.

  With a full stomach, Amelia made her way down the darkened hallway to her room. Back home, she’d probably just be getting ready to go out for the evening, or snuggled by a fire reading a book. But she was dreadfully tired, and since there was no one to talk to and no fire to snuggle by, she lay down gratefully on her bed, thinking about the next day and Carson. Things would seem better in the morning. Everything would work out just fine, she knew it would. Carson would hold her, tell her not to worry, and they’d talk about the wedding and the family they’d have together. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips, picturing herself standing before a tiny rose-covered cottage with Carson by her side.

  Amelia was in the middle of a wonderful dream. She was at a ball back home dancing to her favorite waltz, with Carson looking down at her the way he used to. He was beautiful, his bright blue eyes sparkling, his hair long and wavy and glossy, his beard trimmed and dashing. Every eye was on them, every woman in the ballroom gazing at them with a combination of envy and appreciation. He wore all white, his silver buttons glinting in the gaslight, his arms strong as he swirled her around the ballroom.

  But for some reason, he was starting to shake her shoulder as they danced, and she scowled at him.

  “Stop that,” she muttered.

  “But darlin’, you have to wake up.”

  Amelia opened her eyes and saw Carson, not the hero of her dreams but the unkempt, wild-looking man she’d been with that afternoon, and she tamped down her disappointment. Carson drew her into his arms and she was enveloped in an almost nauseating smell of smoke, cheap perfume, and liquor.

  “Is something wrong, Carson?”

  He pushed her back, his large hands on her shoulders, and for some reason he seemed like a complete stranger, not her beloved, not the man who used to pull her into the alcoves of her home and kiss her until her knees were weak.

  “I have to go. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”

  A waft of boozy breath enveloped her.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Not drunk enough,” he said, and even in the moonlight she could see the flash of his brilliant smile. At least that hadn’t changed.

  “I don’t understand. I just got here. Where are you going?”

  “Why do you have to do that?” he said, sounding almost angry. “Why do you have to look so pretty? Why do you have to be so goddamn nice?”

 
“I’m sorry.”

  He let out a curse. “Don’t you realize how rotten I am yet?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, Carson. All I know is who you were in England. And you were wonderful there.”

  “I was a complete jackass. Hell, Amelia, you’re making this so hard. You’re making me not want to leave.”

  The truth was finally dawning on her, and she felt her insides clench sickeningly. “You’re not coming back?”

  “I…”

  “Oh, God, I’m such an idiot,” she said, horrified by the truth that had been there all along, if she’d only been wise enough to listen to the reasonable part of her brain, rather than her heart.

  “I’m comin’ back, darlin’. Don’t cry. Please. I’m comin’ back.”

  Hope surged, but immediately left her when she saw the look on his face. He was lying, just as he had lied so many times before. But this time he didn’t even bother to try to hide it. Amelia may have been naïve, may have even believed that Carson loved her, but she was not a complete fool.

  “Don’t lie to me,” she said. “Please, Carson. If you don’t mean to come back, don’t lie.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said, sounding tired. Then he flashed her a grin that tore at her already beaten heart. “I might just stay. You never know.”

  But the next morning, Carson was gone.

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, your highness, looks like your prince has flown the coop,” Dulce said, nudging Amelia on the shoulder.

  It took a few seconds to clear the fog from her brain, for she’d been deeply asleep and having a wonderful dream in which she’d been home at Meremont playing tag with her cousins on their beautiful green lawn. They’d all been barefoot, and the grass had felt so cool and soft between her toes.

  “Go away,” she muttered, trying in vain to go back to that happy dream.

  “Didn’t you hear me? Carson’s gone. Packed up and left.”

  Amelia opened her eyes to see Dulce smiling down at her. “Guess you ain’t getting married after all.”

  Finally, what Dulce was saying got through the fog. “Carson’s gone?” Of course he was.

  “Well, his duffel’s gone, his horse is gone, and he grabbed all the food he could carry. Plus he took all the money out of the till. Boone’s crazy mad.” This all seemed to delight Dulce, who appeared to be on the verge of outright laughter.

  Amelia threw off the covers. “My blue day dress, if you please.”

  Dulce rolled her eyes and sauntered over to the wardrobe where Amelia’s gowns had been crammed in haphazardly. “This one?” she asked, pulling out a ball gown.

  Amelia quickly searched and pulled out her dress, one of her favorite day dresses made of light blue wool. It had the most lovely sleeves that puffed out beautifully at her upper arms but hugged her forearms from her elbow to wrist. The light wool was intricately embroidered with flowers that were just slightly darker than the full skirt. It was a beautiful dress, one she’d pictured wearing with Carson strolling down the main street of Small Fork. She tossed the dress on her bed. “Where are my unmentionables?”

  Dulce nodded toward a chest of drawers. “Top drawer.”

  Within minutes, Amelia was pulling on the dress, and waiting with what she thought was incredible patience for Dulce to button her up. It seemed as if the woman had never buttoned a button before, so slow was she proceeding. When she was finished, Amelia said, “Where is Dr. Kitteridge?”

  “Who?”

  She gave the obstinate woman a tight smile. “Boone.”

  Dulce smiled, and Amelia knew her suspicions were correct; the woman was delighting in antagonizing her.

  “Can’t say.”

  But when Amelia’s eyes welled with tears, the woman’s face softened almost imperceptibly. “Probably out front in the store.”

  “Thank you.” Amelia dashed away the tears and hurried toward the store, praying Dulce was lying about Carson disappearing. It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t. He’d formally proposed. He’d asked her brother’s permission. Please, please be here. Let this all be a bad dream. Please.

  But the minute she walked through the shop’s back door and Boone looked up to see her, she knew. “He’s gone,” she said, her voice dead.

  Boone gave her a long stare, then simply nodded.

  Amelia slumped against the wall, and Boone took a step toward her as if fearing she was going to faint. She held up a hand to stop him. “I’m fine,” she lied. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the pity in his face. She didn’t even feel surprised, really. It was more a sense of the inevitable, as if she’d known all along that her dreams would never come true.

  How many times had she done this to herself, created a fantasy life that could never match reality? She’d spent her childhood, alone in a dreary manor, dreaming of a family that, one by one, had died and left her. Why, after a lifetime of failed dreams, should she start believing they’d come true now?

  Finally, she said, her eyes still closed, “Did he leave a note?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Then how do you know he’s gone? He could be just…” She tried to think of a scenario that would justify a man not being around for his fiancée who’d just traveled halfway across the world to see him, and could not. “I can’t believe it.” But she could. She did.

  Amelia pushed herself away from the wall and walked to the counter, where Boone stood looking at her like she was some abandoned orphan, which was exactly what she was. She hugged her arms around herself, feeling completely lost and more frightened than she’d been in a long time. Not since she’d awoken from being so very sick, only to find that her mother and father were both dead, had she felt this completely bereft. “Did he really take your money?”

  “He sure did.”

  “I’m so sorry. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t…” She stopped because her throat closed up and she didn’t want to cry in front of this man again. She’d already done that once, which was unforgivable and completely ill-mannered. Instead, she forced a smile. “I’ll go home, then. It will be as if I was never here. I’ll just pack my things and be gone as soon as the train comes by. When is it next due?”

  “Two days.”

  She’d had no idea the train didn’t come by daily. The thought of staying in his place for even that long was almost beyond bearing. She wished she could blink her eyes and be home at Meremont with her brother, and everything could go back the way it had been before she’d turned into such a foolish, ridiculous child. “Can you put up with me for two days, or would you like me to go to the hotel?” she asked pleasantly, ignoring the fact that her voice was shaking, that her entire body was shaking.

  “You can stay here,” Boone said, almost angrily. Amelia was perceptive enough to know he was angry with his brother and not her.

  “Well, then. It was a lovely visit and I’ll try to keep out of your way for the next two days.”

  The two were distracted when the bell above the shop’s door jingled loudly and a woman came in. It was difficult not to stare at her, and Amelia used all her proper upbringing not to. The woman darted in, as if she were being chased. She wore a large, floppy straw hat and had a colorful bandana over most of her face. What Amelia could see of it was pockmarked and scarred, and it was clear that something, not disease, had marred her terribly. She looked at Boone to gauge his reaction, and was completely stunned. He was smiling.

  And God, he was beautiful when he smiled.

  “Julia. Good morning.”

  The woman mumbled a greeting, her head down as if she realized they were not alone.

  “Julia, this is Lady Amelia, all the way from England,” Boone said, sounding strange. He was looking at Amelia, silently telling her to be kind. How annoying.

  Amelia gave him a look, then held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Julia. I met Dr. Kitteridge’s brother, Carson, in England when he was with the Wild West show, and as I was in the are
a, I thought I’d give him a visit.”

  The woman shook her hand and Amelia was struck by how beautiful it was, strong and sure and gentle.

  “Do you live here in town?”

  The woman darted a look at Boone, and a silent message was passed between them before she nodded. Then she handed over a list of items she needed, which Boone carefully catalogued in a ledger.

  “Miss Wellesley, would you mind handing me one of those sacks of salt there behind you?”

  “Not at all,” Amelia said, glad to be given something to do. The two of them went about filling the order, and Amelia was highly amused when Boone followed behind her, straightening out jars and bottles that she’d knocked askew.

  Just for fun, she moved a jar of peaches the tiniest bit, then laughed aloud when Boone put it back.

  “I hardly see how that makes a difference,” she said.

  “I like things the way I like them.”

  To her surprise, Julia waggled a finger at her and Amelia laughed again. “I’m sorely tempted to rearrange the entire store.”

  “Not if you value your pretty behind,” Boone said darkly.

  Julia giggled and Amelia was delighted, because it was so unlike Boone to say such a thing—at least she thought it was. It was the first time Boone had even remotely seemed like Carson.

  Once the woman’s order was filled, Boone added up the items in his ledger and efficiently packed them all in an old potato sack.

  “Miss Wellesley, I wonder if you could watch the store for a moment.” Without waiting for an answer, Boone held out his hand for Julia to precede him to the back of the store, and presumably to his office.

  “No, actually, I’m quite busy,” Amelia said to the empty room, then resigned herself to standing behind the counter and praying no one entered because she still felt as if she might burst into tears at any moment. She gazed down at the ledger, smiling because it reminded her of Edward, who spent so many hours perusing similar ledgers. Except this one was distinctly different. It was simply a list of charges that went on for pages and pages. Charges that never appeared to be paid. She flipped through and found other similar accountings, but those had columns indicating the balances had been paid.