"Wait a minute," Gloria said, appearing to think very hard. She turned to her brother. "Didn't we meet a woman with very blond hair by that name?"
Chapter Ten
"Vivian has blond hair," Holt said. "And enormous green eyes."
"I don't know if she's the same woman," Gloria said.
"I'll ask around," Beau said. "If she's pretty, someone will know her."
"She was a beauty."
"Then I'll definitely ask about her," Beau said, his grin one that Felicity wouldn't have hesitated to describe as a leer.
"What brings you to Galveston?" Gloria asked Holt.
"He's a doctor," Felicity said. She didn't know why she was fearful that Holt would say his only reason for being in Galveston was to find Vivian.
"Our brother is a doctor," Gloria said. "He's working in Baton Rouge. He wants to move to New Orleans, but I told him to come to Galveston instead. What do you think?"
Beau rolled his eyes and grimaced at Felicity. "Once my sister starts talking business, you can't stop her. Why don't you let me get you something to drink?"
"Yes, do," Charlotte urged. "Beau can introduce you around." She winked at Felicity. "Several men have been asking about you."
Felicity didn't want to leave Holt. He represented safety, but Charlotte hooked her arm in Felicity's and literally pulled her away from Holt.
"How long have you lived in Galveston?" Beau asked.
"My father and I moved here in 1855, but he volunteered for the Confederate Army. We didn't get back until the end of the war."
"Felicity's father is a wonderful doctor who often forgets to charge for his services," Charlotte said.
"Which must make it hard on his daughter," Beau said.
"Papa's patients are very conscientious. When they can't pay with money, they give us what they do have."
"My brother has to put up with the same thing," Beau said. "He can't get it through his patients' heads that it's much easier to buy what he needs with money rather than be given a basket of eggs or a squealing pig."
"That's all some of them have," Felicity said.
"Then let them sell it and bring him the money. Commerce will never fully develop as long as people still barter for what they want." Beau took two glasses from a tray borne by a servant and handed one to Felicity. "Let's forget patients and talk about you," he said, steering her toward doors that opened onto a garden. "How come a beautiful woman like you isn't besieged by suitors?"
"I'm usually in my father's consulting room," Felicity said. She looked for Charlotte, but her hostess had deserted her.
"You're too beautiful to be hidden away. Let's drink to a future full of brilliant parties and impatient suitors."
"I don't want a future like that."
"You're being modest."
"No, I'm not."
"Then drink to my future," Beau said. "May it be filled with beautiful women like you and perfect wine like this."
He raised his glass in a toast, then drank. Felicity couldn't refuse the toast, so she took a swallow of her wine.
"Tell me about yourself," Beau said. His hand on her elbow, he guided her through the open doors into an extensive garden still in the early stages of development. The night air was cool, the gulf breeze laden with the smell of salt. It felt good on her skin. The air inside the house had become overheated with the press of bodies.
"There's not much to tell," Felicity said. "I keep house for my father and help him with his medical practice."
"I should think such duties would offend the tender sensibilities of a genteel lady such as yourself."
"Even genteel ladies are called upon to nurse the sick and wounded."
"If you were my wife, I'd shower you with beautiful clothes and surround you with servants."
"Well, I'm not, so that doesn't come into it."
Beau exchanged her elbow for her hand. "But it should," he said. "Beauty such as yours should be cosseted."
Felicity tried to withdraw her hand, but he raised it to his lips and kissed it.
"If you saw me coming out of my father's consulting room, or after I'd finished mopping the floors, you wouldn't think I was beautiful."
"That's all the more reason why you should be released from your bondage." Beau gripped her fingers and pressed them against his chest. "Beauty should be nurtured, enhanced, displayed for all the world to see before age steals it away."
Felicity didn't mind being thought beautiful. It was very pleasant after feeling drab for so long. But she wasn't foolish enough to think herself a great beauty like her mother, or to think Beau was doing anything more than filling a pleasant evening with a little flirting. But she didn't like flirting. She also didn't like the fact that Beau seemed to think that having been allowed to possess her hand unchallenged, he could now become familiar with more of her body.
"We ought to go back inside," she said, attempting to pull her hand from his grip.
"Not yet. The night is wonderfully cool and pleasant. Besides, I don't want to share you."
"I didn't see anyone competing for me."
"Now that I've rid you of that doctor, they'll close in like hounds after a fox."
"Then I'd better find my doctor."
"Don't go. He doesn't appreciate you as I do."
Beau placed his hand in the small of her back, preventing her from moving away.
"He appreciates me enough," she said, struggling to get away.
"Then you don't know what it means to be appreciated by a man who knows how to make a woman feel valued," Beau said.
He pulled her closer. Felicity pulled back, but her strength wasn't the equal of Beau's.
"What a good idea to come out here," Holt said. "It's hot inside."
Felicity was so relieved to hear Holt's voice, she could have kissed him.
"That's one of the advantages of living practically on the shore," Beau said. He released her gradually, his body stiff, his expression one of concealed anger. "Even in the summertime, there's nearly always a cooling breeze."
"Is there a breeze in New Orleans?" Holt asked.
"No. We're too far upriver."
Felicity had managed to maneuver until Holt stood between her and Beau.
"If this were Virginia, I'd probably say your sister was asking for you," Holt said, "but it goes against my Vermont conscience."
"What are you getting at?" Beau asked.
"Besides, I find that in Texas they don't much care about etiquette."
"I suppose there's a meaning somewhere in that jumble of words."
"You could say that. If you lay a hand on Felicity again, I'll break it for you. But you're in luck. I'm a doctor, so I could set it, too. If you kiss her against her will, I'm liable to shoot you. But a doctor can't always fix a gunshot wound, so I'm not sure how much use I'd be to you with that."
Beau's reaction suggested he wasn't used to such plain speaking. "I expect my sister is wondering what has become of me," he said. "She doesn't like to be left alone when she doesn't know everyone."
He threw Felicity an angry glance, then left.
"Thanks for coming after me," she said to Holt.
"What did you mean by leaving the party with him?" Holt said.
The suppressed anger in his voice stunned her. She hadn't expected him even to be aware she had gone.
"I didn't leave the party. Charlotte practically threw me into his arms. I couldn't get away without causing a disturbance."
"You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to go. And if anybody tries to force you, you can kick up a fuss."
She didn't know how they brought up young women in Vermont, but she doubted it was very different from the rest of the country. Nowhere was kicking up a fuss considered an admirable attribute in a young lady.
"I'd never be invited to a party like this again."
"Which is another reason not to run off with strange men."
"I didn't run off."
"You didn't stay with me."
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p; "I didn't think you cared. It took you long enough to notice I'd gone."
"I never thought you'd leave."
"Why? Because it's so fascinating to listen to you asking everybody about Vivian?"
"I have to find her."
"Well, I don't."
"You agreed to help me."
"I agreed to keep you company."
"I expected you to stay close. I can't be chasing men away all night."
She couldn't believe he was scolding her like a younger sister. She was an adult. She could go where she pleased, do what she wanted. She started to go inside. "I want to go home."
"We can't leave yet. I haven't found anyone who knows Vivian."
"You found Gloria."
"What if the woman she remembers isn't Vivian?"
"Then you can keep asking."
She wanted to go home. She needed time to think about Holt being angry with her. It had been unexpected. It had been unfair. But it had also been intriguing.
She hadn't known he cared enough to worry about her. Had he missed her on his own, or had Gloria pointed out her absence? Had he wanted to find her, or was it just what was expected of him? Was he angry because she'd inconvenienced him, or was he really upset that she had been in danger? No one had ever threatened to shoot anyone because of her. Maybe that was what cowboys did. She couldn't be sure. Holt was the only one she knew.
Somehow the answers to all these questions had to fit together, but she couldn't make sense of them with Holt scowling at her. Even as she tried to sustain her anger, she felt it melting away. He had come after her, and he had threatened Beau with physical harm if he touched her again.
She liked that. She'd spent all her life looking after her parents, worrying about them, trying to make certain no harm came to them. She'd had no idea how nice it was to have someone take care of her. Even if it was just for a few hours at a party, it was just nice to know that somebody was making sure she was safe.
"I didn't mean to get caught alone with a man who thinks he's so marvelous no woman can resist him," she said. "Thank you for being concerned about me."
His anger vanished.
"You had me worried. It probably comes from spending so many years surrounded by a hostile army or rustlers and bandits, but I started to imagine all sorts of things."
"Like what?"
"Like you'd been abducted by pirates and smuggled out to sea where you'd be sold to a desert Arab chieftain."
"That's impossible. There aren't any..." She stopped in mid-sentence. He was making a joke, but this was too important for jokes. "I need to find Charlotte and say goodbye," she said. "I want to leave before I'm exposed to any more pirates."
He put out a hand to stop her. "I shouldn't have made a joke, but I was worried."
"Sorry to snap. I'm still upset about Beau. I suppose a more sophisticated woman would have known how to handle him."
"I like innocence better than sophistication."
Then why was he in love with Vivian? she wondered. From what he'd said, she would be the epitome of a sophisticated woman.
"Well, I don't like being innocent. It makes me feel like a fool," she said.
Later, when she lay awake at home, unable to sleep, Felicity accepted that she'd been disappointed in the party. Somehow she'd expected to be welcomed home to familiar territory, but despite Charlotte's friendship, the women had held back. She'd felt as if she were among strangers. In six years, people had changed. Where were the men she knew before the war, the gallant men like Holt who would protect a woman? How would she ever find love if they were all like Beau Stregghorn? Women kept their distance. Men considered her prey.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Holt had awakened a sleeping desire within her--or released it from bondage. She couldn't turn back now. She couldn't get rid of the feeling this was her last chance to find love. She felt guilty about leaving her father, but she also resented his hold on her time. She wanted her own life. If Holt could strike out on his own, why couldn't she?
She needed love. She had to find it.
She refused to think of herself as an old maid. She was still reasonably young. Holt said she was pretty. Her father said she'd make a perfect wife. She only had to wait. The right man would come along. Maybe at Gloria's party. Her mother had promised.
"I want to see the new doctor," the woman said.
"He's only going to be here for a short time," Felicity said. "Wouldn't you rather talk to a doctor you can continue to see?"
"Mrs. Prentiss said I was to ask for the new one. She said he was the best doctor in Galveston."
"He's certainly very good, but--"
"Has he gone away?"
"No, but--"
"Then I want to see him."
Felicity gave in. "I'll check to see if he has time to see you this morning."
"If he can't, I can come back this afternoon."
"Perhaps that would be best."
It was all she could do to keep a smile on her face and her voice calm and pleasant. This was the third person today who'd asked to see Holt rather than her father. She couldn't be angry at Mrs. Prentiss for telling everyone about Holt, but she still couldn't keep from worrying what this would do to her father.
She found Holt reading one of her father's medical books when she entered the consulting room.
"Where's my father?"
"Lying down."
"Has he ..." She didn't finish the sentence.
"I think so. He didn't object when I suggested he might want to take a nap."
"He doesn't sleep well."
"I know."
"He never has gotten over Mother's death."
"I know."
"If he just hadn't been sent to Andersonville."
"There's nothing you can do about that now."
She wanted to lash out at him, at his complacency, and his never-ending competency, his patience, his unbending standards, but she didn't because she knew that in his own way he was protecting her father just as she was.
"There's another patient who wants to see you this afternoon."
"Good, your father will be down by then."
"She says Mrs. Prentiss told her you were the best doctor in Galveston. She won't see anyone else."
He viewed her with a look that showed so much understanding she got mad all over again.
"Mrs. Prentiss doesn't know anything about my qualifications as a doctor. She's only recommending me because I knew her son."
"I know that, and you know that, but this woman doesn't."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She didn't say."
"Probably some long-standing ailment no one has been able to cure, so she's coming to me in hopes I can do something no one else has. I'll ask your father to look at her with me. Don't let him leave after lunch."
That was another reason she couldn't get angry at him. He didn't blink at the thought of surgery, but when it came to the diagnosis of ordinary medical problems, he lacked her father's knowledge and experience and didn't hesitate to admit it.
"Start talking medicine, and he'll stay here without my having to say a word," she said.
That was something else that annoyed her. He had more influence over her father than she did.
Only it didn't stop the drinking. Nothing stopped that.
"There's a lot I can learn from him," Holt said. "He's generous in sharing his knowledge and experience."
He was generous with everybody except his daughter. She was expected to keep his house, cook his meals, help with his patients, and make excuses for him when he couldn't work. She'd always done those things, and she knew he was thankful.
Only he didn't tell her. He'd never told her. She'd gradually slipped into that role during the last years of her mother's illness. By the time he recovered from the shock of his wife's death, he'd accepted his daughter's role in his life as the way it should be. He depended on her, needed her, so he took it for granted that she would always be there even as he fusse
d at her about having her own family.
Felicity felt trapped, helpless, and unappreciated, and that made her angry. It was nearly impossible not to be mad at Holt, because he had butted into their lives without so much as a by your leave. But her anger disguised a feeling that had been developing below the surface, out of sight, beyond the edges of her awareness.
She liked Holt. A lot.
"Despite Mrs. Prentiss's enthusiastic recommendations, not all of our patients will want to see you. You're still a stranger."
"Maybe you can convince one of the patients who will see me to swear I don't bite."
She smiled. She liked that he could find humor in difficult or frustrating situations. "It's hard for women to go to a doctor. You're all men. You don't understand a woman's body or how she feels about it. Besides, you're young and attractive. That makes it even worse."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"Don't ask foolish questions." She wasn't about to tell him how she really felt about him. Her feelings would shock him.
"I don't see that it makes any difference how old I am or what I look like. The only question should be whether I'm a good doctor."
"Wouldn't it make a difference to you whether you saw a man or a woman?"
"No."
"I can't understand that. I can only assume you're not interested in women."
His reaction was immediate.
"That's not true, and I can prove it."
Chapter Eleven
Holt hadn't meant to say that. It just came out on its own. It actually amused him that Felicity might believe he didn't like women. Apparently she didn't understand that when it came to working with patients, it was best if the doctor could forget whether the patient was male or female, old or young, attractive or not, charming or abrasive.
"Proving my interest in women would be a lot more interesting than this medical book."
Felicity recoiled. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I can presume your interest from your pursuit of Vivian."
"You asked about my interest in women. That means I have to prove I'm interested in more than one woman."
"No, you don't."
She looked unsure of what he intended to do. He didn't know either. He laid the book aside.
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