"I'll buy you a dress."
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What do you think people would say about me if they found out you were paying for my clothes?"
"If I asked your help and advice in a business matter, you'd expect to get paid for it, wouldn't you?"
"Of course."
"Well, that's what I'm doing, paying for help and advice. It'll be your decision to use the money to buy clothes. That's what most women would do, isn't it?"
She knew that any woman would jump at the chance for a new dress, especially one pretty enough to wear to a party.
"How much would a dress cost?" he asked.
"I don't know. I haven't bought one in a long time."
Holt dug into his pocket and came up with a thirty-five-dollar gold piece. "Do you think you could buy one dress with this?" he asked.
Felicity hadn't seen that much money in one piece since before the war. "I could buy two."
"Spend it on a really nice dress."
Felicity was tempted. It wasn't as though she wouldn't be doing something to earn the money for the dress. She could think of the dress as a tool she needed to do her job. This was a chance to see old acquaintances again. Maybe she'd judged them too harshly, refused Charlotte's invitations unnecessarily. Maybe people had stayed away to avoid embarrassing her over her recent reversal of fortune. This would give her a chance to get in touch again.
She looked at the gold piece lying on the table between them. She hadn't realized how much she wanted a new dress until she'd been presented with the opportunity to realize her wish. Until now, she had had no place to wear such a dress, so it was foolish even to think about it.
But the money was on the table. It was hers if she wanted it. All she had to do was pick it up. Her acceptance didn't commit her to anything except going to a party.
She practically had to grip her hands together to keep from picking the coin up.
"I really can't," she said, turning away resolutely.
"I'm not trying to seduce you."
"I know that."
"Then why do you hesitate? Do you dislike me so much?"
She turned back to face him. "I don't dislike you."
"Okay, so you're just afraid I'm going to do something to hurt your father. In that case, the best thing you could do would be to help me. The sooner I find Vivian, the sooner I'll leave Galveston."
There went those strange feelings again. She didn't want him to leave. She especially didn't want him to leave with Vivian. She couldn't account for her certainty that Vivian was unworthy of Holt--she didn't even know the woman. But surely if Vivian had loved him, she would have at least tried to let him know where she had gone.
Felicity told herself to stop. She had no business imagining anything about Vivian Calvert. She would have hated it if someone had done that to her.
"Okay," she said, "I'll go. I'll buy only one dress and bring back the change."
"I won't take it."
"Then I won't go."
"All right. Have it your way. The party starts at eight-thirty."
Felicity nodded, but she wasn't really thinking about the time to arrive at the party. She was thinking that for the first time in years she could buy a truly pretty dress. For once, she was going to look beautiful like her mother looked in the painting that hung in the parlor.
Felicity looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. She'd never thought of herself as more than passably attractive, but in this bottle-green satin gown with dazzlingly white lace at the throat and sleeves, she looked elegant. It helped that she'd piled her nearly black hair atop her head, with a curl dangling over each ear. An emerald and diamond necklace flashed at her throat in concert with earrings of matching stones, gifts from her father to her mother that had cost him the profits from an entire cotton crop. An ivory comb held her hair in place.
"How do I look?" she asked Mrs. Bennett, who on hearing that Felicity was going to a party had insisted upon fixing her hair.
"Like a princess. You've always been pretty, but that dress and those jewels transform you. I've never seen anything like them."
"My father gave the jewels to my mother on their wedding day. He would never let me sell them."
"I don't blame him. They're breathtaking. You'll be the belle of the ball."
Felicity was filled with anticipation. Though she still dreaded actually walking through the door at Charlotte's party, she was looking forward to seeing the surprised looks on everyone's face.
"I can't wait to see how Holt reacts," Mrs. Bennett said.
"He disapproves of me."
"Men forget things like that when they come face to face with a beautiful woman."
"I'm not beautiful."
"Let's ask your father."
Felicity knew as soon as she entered the parlor that her father had been drinking. She stifled a pang of guilt that she wouldn't be home to watch him, but she wouldn't be gone long. She'd see he went to bed early.
"What do you think of your daughter, Dr. Moore?" Mrs. Bennett asked.
Her father had been staring at her mother's portrait when they entered, but he turned at the sound of Mrs. Bennett's voice. When his gaze landed on Felicity, he went white.
"Are you all right, Papa?" she asked.
His gaze shifted to the picture of his wife and then back to his daughter. "You look so much like your mother, I could almost imagine she'd stepped down from that picture."
"I'll take off the necklace. I didn't mean to upset you."
"No. She wanted you to wear it. That's why I wouldn't let you sell it even when we were short of money."
Felicity hadn't worn the jewels until tonight. She hadn't had a reason.
"Her mother was wearing a gown like that when I met her," her father told Mrs. Bennett.
Felicity supposed that without realizing it, she'd looked for a gown that reminded her of her mother. She had been so beautiful, and Felicity wanted to look as pretty as possible.
"I remember that evening as if it were yesterday," her father said.
"I should never have chosen this dress," Felicity whispered to Mrs. Bennett.
"Nonsense. It looks beautiful on you."
"But look what it's done to Papa." He was talking to the picture now, as if her mother could hear him. "I can't leave him by himself."
"Will he drink?" Mrs. Bennett asked.
Felicity didn't want to admit that anyone knew of her father's weakness, but it was useless to deny it to Mrs. Bennett. "He does when he gets like this."
"Then I'll stay with him."
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You're not asking. I'm offering. I'm glad you're finally willing to let me be neighborly. I've been watching you for a long time. You work too hard. A woman needs some joy in her life, even if it's just little things like a walk on the beach. Besides, it would be a crime for you not to go out when you look so beautiful."
"That's not important."
"Why don't you ask Holt?" Mrs. Bennett suggested as her boarder entered the room.
"Don't you think Felicity looks just like her mother?" her father asked, gesturing to the picture.
Holt didn't respond immediately. He looked as if he didn't know what to say.
"The doctor asked you a question," Mrs. Bennett said, smiling and winking at Felicity.
Holt seemed to snap out of his trance. He looked from Felicity to the picture and back. "She looks a great deal like her mother," he agreed. "Mrs. Moore was a very beautiful woman."
"Don't you think her daughter is beautiful, too?"
"Don't put words in his mouth," Felicity said to Mrs. Bennett. "He can't be honest without being rude."
"I think you--"
"My self-esteem isn't so low it needs false assurances," Felicity said.
"What if they're not false?" Holt asked.
"If you don't make them, I won't have to ask that question. I know I promised to go with you tonight, but--"
M
rs. Bennett slipped her hand into Felicity's and squeezed. "I told you I'd stay with him," she whispered. "I'd like it better than sitting at home by myself."
"Are you sharing secrets?" Dr. Moore asked.
"Yes," Mrs. Bennett said, "and don't ask what they are, because we won't tell you."
"That's unfair," Holt said.
"That's because you can't be trusted," Mrs. Bennett retorted. "Now take Felicity off to your party and don't you dare show your faces back here before midnight."
"You take good care of her," her father said to Holt. "She's all I've got."
"Don't be ridiculous, Papa. I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."
"No lady can take care of herself," her father declared. "That's a man's job."
"I promise to look after her like she was my own," Holt said.
Felicity knew he was only saying that to please her father, but it caused an uncomfortable reaction somewhere in the region of her belly. She really had to stop reacting to everything Holt said as though it meant something special to her. But after what he'd said a few days ago, she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop wondering if she affected him like he said she would affect other men. She couldn't be sure, but she thought his body had become aroused. If so, all kinds of possibilities were there to be explored. But she didn't want to make any assumptions. The letdown would be too painful.
"If Papa gets too melancholy," Felicity said to Mrs. Bennett, "ask him to take you for a walk. That always makes him feel better."
"I'll do that. Now, don't worry. I'll take good care of him."
Felicity guessed she hadn't really believed she was going to a party with Holt until that very moment. She must have thought--or feared--that something would come along to make it impossible. When she looked up and saw Holt dressed in evening clothes and realized he was only waiting for her to put on her wrap, the full realization hit her.
She was going to a party escorted by Holt Price. Though she knew it was only a business arrangement, the rest of the world would think it was something quite different.
She wished it were something quite different.
That was an unwelcome thought, but she couldn't banish it. She told herself not to be foolish, that while Holt might believe she was beautiful and desirable, he didn't desire her. She'd been telling herself that for days, to no avail. Holt had been the one to say she was beautiful and desirable. He'd been the man who held her and brushed away her tears. He'd been the man who said she deserved love, who promised to force her out of her prison. Surely he couldn't feel all that and be indifferent to her.
She kept reminding herself that he loved Vivian, that he understood her because he'd been in the same situation, but she couldn't banish hope from her heart. Seeing him dressed up didn't help. He looked handsome and extremely elegant in a black suit with a stiff white shirt, black satin waistcoat, and white bow tie, every bit the Southern gentleman dressed for a night on the town on a cool spring evening. She remembered some handsome beaux before the war, but none could compare to Holt.
"Are you ready to go?" Holt asked.
"As ready as she'll ever be," Mrs. Bennett said, draping a capelike jacket over Felicity's shoulders. "Make sure she doesn't get a chill."
"You can depend on it," Holt said.
Felicity didn't dare let herself imagine what Holt meant by that. Considering her present frame of mind, it would be extremely dangerous. And foolish.
When she stepped out on the porch, she saw a waiting buggy. No, it was a carriage. A closed carriage, the kind important people used. She felt rather foolish that it took her a moment to realize it was meant for her. She was wearing a king's ransom in jewels but she'd assumed that Holt would expect her to walk through the streets in the dark.
"It was very nice of you to hire a carriage."
"Charlottesville is a small town, but ladies never traveled to a party on foot unless it was next door."
Felicity allowed Holt to walk her to the street and help her into the carriage. He climbed in behind her, and the carriage started forward.
"Now tell me what this is going to be like," Holt said. "I'm so nervous I feel like six vaqueros are doing a fandango in the pit of my stomach."
Felicity decided Holt couldn't have a nerve in his body. He swore he didn't know a person in the room except Charlotte, but you'd have thought he'd grown up with every one of them. The fandango dancers had moved to her stomach. She'd come to the party hoping to be accepted into her former circle. Instead, the sidelong glances from several women convinced her she'd made a mistake. She felt like an interloper, a fraud in a borrowed dress. She was Cinderella at the ball. At midnight she would turn back into a poor doctor's daughter.
"Relax," Holt said. "Every man in the room is anxious to meet you."
"You mean they're wondering where you found me."
"Stop looking so formidable. You'll scare them away."
So much for the ability of a man to understand women.
"I don't know what you're so anxious about," he continued. "Everybody likes you. I heard Charlotte telling one of the men she intended to invite you to her next party, too."
"I won't go."
"You might feel differently after tonight."
She'd been born the daughter of a well-to-do planter who had been on a first-name basis with two English lords when he was in Scotland, but she was an outsider in this gathering. Everybody here was young and vigorous, driven by a ferocious desire to succeed, to acquire the trappings of wealth. These people were determined to recover everything they'd lost because of the war, or to capitalize on any advantages the aftermath of the war might throw their way.
Felicity's one overwhelming desire was simply to be loved.
"Have you met anyone who knows anything about Vivian?" Felicity asked.
"No one knows a Calvert family."
"Maybe she's not in Galveston. She could be in a dozen other places."
"Almost anything is possible, but the Vivian I knew would starve without people, excitement, glamour. She might have to settle temporarily for a small town, even a ranch, but she wouldn't stay there."
"What do you two have in common? When you start talking about medical ethics, you sound like the first Christian martyr."
She shouldn't have said that. He wasn't that bad.
"Vivian was a child whose values were formed by adversity. Once she feels safe, once she knows she's loved for herself, not just her physical beauty, she will become a different person. She'll see that all these trappings of wealth and social success are just that--trappings."
Felicity had never seen Vivian--she was gradually coming to the point that she hoped she never would--but she was certain that any woman who'd grown up valuing money and social position above all else wouldn't chuck those trappings overboard for some hopelessly romantic Vermont doctor. She was much more likely to laugh in his face.
But Felicity wasn't about to say that. Holt believed in Vivian so deeply, it would hurt him tremendously to learn he'd been wrong. She didn't say it because that was how she would want some man to believe in her. For her, the love of a good man would be all the security she needed.
"She was open and genuine," Holt said. "She didn't hide anything from me, not even the things she probably should have. There's a lot of good in her if it just had a chance to come out."
Outside of the fact that she would sound like a jealous shrew if she continued to question Vivian's character, Felicity didn't want to jeopardize her position with Holt. His belief in her was extremely important. It helped her face the possibility that her father really was an alcoholic. It also let her hope she wouldn't face that harsh truth alone. Having Holt at her side had become important to her.
"I hope you find her," Felicity said, "for her sake as much as yours."
"Smile. Here comes our hostess."
Charlotte brought with her a woman who was the most expensively dressed, if not the most elegant, person in the room. An attractive man followed in their wake.
"I want to introduce Gloria Webster," Charlotte said to Felicity. "She's just moved to Galveston from New Orleans. Her husband is in shipping."
The man was introduced as Gloria's brother, Beau Stregghorn. He winked at Felicity. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply returned her gaze to her hostess.
"We've just bought a house on Broadway," Gloria said. "We're having an open house next week. I do hope you'll be able to come."
"You, too," Beau said to Felicity.
"Thank you very much," Holt said, showing absolutely no reaction to Felicity's startled look.
"Next Tuesday," Gloria said, "starting at six."
"And it doesn't stop until everybody gets too tired to stay up any longer," her brother said.
"That's usually around ten o'clock in Galveston," Charlotte said.
"In New Orleans, a really good party lasts all night," Beau said.
Felicity couldn't imagine any party being good enough for her to want to stay up all night.
"Gloria's husband and brother plan to help change Galveston from a sleepy village into a truly sophisticated town," Charlotte said. "Isn't that exciting?"
Felicity didn't care what they did as long as they stayed off the streets when they were drunk. She dreaded the thought of more accidents like the one that had befallen Durwin.
"Will it be a large party?" Holt asked Gloria.
"We're inviting everybody who has even the smallest amount of influence," Gloria said. "My husband says Galveston can become the richest and most important city in Texas if all the people with means and intelligence work together."
"He thinks New Orleans is the natural market for Texas beef," Beau added. "He plans to develop a regular fleet of ships to carry cattle to New Orleans, maybe even Mobile."
"Have you met a lot of people since you've been here?" Holt asked.
"Hundreds," Gloria said. "I can't remember them all."
"Do you know anyone named Vivian Calvert?"
"No, but Beau is the one you ought to ask about women."
"I don't know anybody by that name," Beau said.
"What about Vivian Stone?"
"Stone is my mother's maiden name. I'd have been sure to remember it."
"Do you know anyone named Vivian?" Felicity asked. And immediately wondered why she'd asked that question.
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