Threads of Betrayal

by Monica Koldyke Miller

  “I am, Papa,” she said, stepping inside with Reagan. “But first, allow me to get you some refreshments.” After reaching the sideboard, she rejoined the men with a bottle of port and two glasses on a tray. As Reagan sampled his drink, she gazed at his lips, envisioning them pressed against hers in a heated embrace. The hint of desire she imagined in his look made her even more confident her strategy would be successful.

  She then turned to Sam, still preoccupied at his desk with finding Bertram’s letter. “Papa, I’ll be late this evening. Camilla asked if I could stay after dinner to help plan her birthday party.”

  “What? Oh, yes-yes. That’s quite all right, dear,” he said as he fumbled through the papers. “Ah, here it is!” Turning, he couldn’t wait to dismiss his daughter. “You have a good time.”

  She stepped forward to plant a kiss on her father’s cheek. “Now, don’t wait up for me. You know how cranky you get when you don’t get enough sleep.”

  “I know. Now, hurry along, child,” he said. “I promise I shan’t wait up.”

  “Good, for I’ve no idea when I might return. You know how Camilla can go on and on.” She stopped, as if a thought just struck her. “Why, if it gets too late, Papa, I might just spend the night and come home in the morning.” She looked at her father with innocent eyes. “Would that be permissible?”

  “Of course!” Sam was becoming exasperated by her delay in leaving. “Whatever you wish.” He gestured toward the door. “You mustn’t keep the Muelder’s waiting.”

  Elizabeth looked at Reagan. “I pray your evening will be as enjoyable as mine,” she said, touching where the key lay hidden. “Until we meet again.”

  After closing the door, Elizabeth stood reviewing her plans. She’d boldly lied about dining with Camilla because the two families barely knew each other and it’d be unlikely that Sam would discover her deception. If she knew anything about her father, he’d keep Reagan well beyond the time necessary to disclose the contents of Bertram’s letter. It’d give her ample time to drive the buggy to the alley next to the Rochester Hotel where she would wait until Reagan returned. She’d learned of the servant’s entrance from the maid at the hotel and would later take advantage of that discreet access.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  It seemed to Reagan that Sam Hampton couldn’t make a succinct comment if his life depended on it. Like all politicians, he waxed eloquent and with much verbosity upon his importance in improving Cantonsville since taking office. Reagan allowed the prattle to go on while refilling his glass in an effort to be patient. The sweet liquor soothed his nerves already jangled from his encounter with Elizabeth and her provocative display. As he glanced at the mantle clock, he noted the hour of ten approaching. With a sigh, he realized he’d be spending another night at the hotel. He had promised Katherine he wouldn’t come home at an ungodly hour. He would have to use his suite to avoid another unpleasant quarrel.

  The bottle of port had long been consumed by the time Reagan learned he had obtained another contract from the government. The mayor beamed as he shook Reagan’s hand before giving him the papers Bertram had sent. With much patting on his back, Sam escorted him to the door.

  Reagan cursed himself for his overindulgence as he climbed into his buggy. Though annoyed with the mayor, it was only part of the reason he had numbed his mind with liquor. Elizabeth’s tantalizing display had rekindled a battle he waged daily. Ever since Amanda forswore his husbandly rights, he’d become like a man starved, always seeking but never finding ease. Whenever she prepared a bath, he became no better than an ogling lecher while lust tore at his gut strings. And no matter how agreeable he tried to be, as soon as the water was poured, she’d lock the door against his possible intrusion.

  Reagan found himself watching for a softening resolve as she played the role of wife, greeting guests or conversing pleasantly at dinner. But, if by themselves in the parlor, Amanda’s soft demeanor dissolved into that of a harpish shrew, pricking his endurance. Yet, it was the nights Reagan found most torturous. The moment they were behind closed doors, Amanda would become guarded, avoiding him as a mouse avoids a cat. Rather than converse, she’d find small tasks to fill her time such as reading books or writing a letter. And when she rose for bed, he found himself staring as she took down her hair and unbuttoned her dress. As always, she would step behind the screen, depriving him the pleasure of her naked body. When she finally lay down on the bed’s outer edge, it took every ounce of will to keep from taking her in his arms and ravaging her with white, hot desire. As a gentleman, he couldn’t impose his demands while she spurned his advances. Instead, he went to the Rochester to drink himself into a stupor. At least then, he could subject his will over his rebellious body.

  Once inside his suite, Reagan shrugged out of his coat. Unbuttoning his shirt, he splashed whiskey into a glass and downed it quickly. He looked around the room thinking he would gladly trade it for the cabin, if he could but regain his wife’s love. Even the liquor couldn’t quell his longing to hold her in his arms, touch her, and love her. After stripping off his clothes, he poured another draught. If it took all night, he would banish the demons that plagued him.

  After awhile, the deliverance Reagan sought stole over him, and with only a sheet covering his nakedness, he fell into a deep sleep. Though mastering his body, Reagan couldn’t control the visions that frequented his dreaMs. Images formed of Amanda entwined in his arms as they spun amid music and light. They were happy. No damning perplexities stood between them. The scent of her perfume rose to tantalize his senses.

  “Reagan…” she smiled at him impishly, “Reagan… I’m here…”

  “Of course you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her hand rose to caress his face and he turned to kiss her palm. “My love,” he breathed, “where’ve you been?”

  “I must know if you want me…” she whispered.

  “I’ve always wanted you. From the first moment I saw you,” Reagan assured. “I can’t live without you.” He was determined she wouldn’t vanish again. Yet, without warning, the music stopped and the lights grew dim. They stood uncertainly, looking at each other.

  “Do you really want me?” she asked, pulling away.

  “Don’t go,” Reagan begged as she slipped from his fingers. Reaching out, he seized her and her arms returned to envelop him in a passionate embrace. “Stay with me, please…” Reagan beseeched as warm lips caressed his, “…I need you…”

  The heady scent of roses filled his nostrils as Reagan held her against him and her soft breasts instilled a ravenous appetite that had been too long suppressed. Covering her with kisses, his hands sought the secret places he knew so well and when he finally possessed her, her nails raked his back in equal passion. With mounting fervor, she arched her back while meeting him thrust for thrust in a frantic race for fulfillment. As her hands cupped his buttocks, Reagan buried his face in her neck, clinging to her until he received complete and blessed relief.

  “Amanda…” he held her tenderly as he heard soft whimpering. “Amanda, please don’t cry. I love you…I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you…” he wanted to kiss away the hurt of her finding the damning notes, “…I don’t want us to ever be apart again…”

  He thought he heard a faraway, sharp intake of breath. Despite his intentions to comfort her, a drug-like stupor stole over Reagan and he slumbered.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Reagan was thrust awake by hammer-like poundings that pierced his skull. He pressed a pillow to his ears hoping the racket would go away and leave him to his misery. Within seconds, the sound of a door slamming against a wall brought him to his senses. If it hadn’t, the bellowing would have as Thomas entered the room like a snorting bull.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” his father shouted, tearing the pillow from Reagan’s hands. “You didn’t come home last night and this morning, you didn’t show up at the mill! Get your arse out of bed and get back to the business of being a man!”


  Reagan flinched, feeling his head was being rent from his shoulders. “Please,” he croaked. “I’ll do whatever you ask, if only you’ll stop shouting.” Sitting up was no small feat as his stomach threatened to expel whatever remained inside.

  Thomas stopped, not so much at Reagan’s request but at his horrible condition. Never had he seen Reagan’s hair so disarrayed or bloodshot eyes, barely open. His jaw wore the growth of a man used to shaving early and it was now nearly noon.

  In disgust, Thomas strode to the nightstand and picked up the whiskey bottle. “You’ve never been one to run from problems and it rankles me to see you now indulge that weakness.” He stared out the window as he continued, “I’ve cancelled your arrangement with the hotel. From now on, you’ll return each night to your family, loving or not.” Turning, he looked at Reagan with unpitying eyes. “Whatever problems you’ve created, you’ll have to deal with them like any man who’s ever wronged his wife. I’ll expect you at dinner as well. Katherine had to make excuses to Beauregard last night. Had you been around lately, you would’ve known he was to be our guest.”

  Reagan cradled his head with hands that shook. “I worked through dinner until my appointment with the mayor-”

  “Sam? What were you doing at the Hampton’s last night?” Thomas recalled Reagan mentioning a possible contract through the mayor’s cousin, Bertram Hayes. Though he’d been angry to be excluded from the original meeting, Reagan assured him he’d be told if they received a contract. “Why wasn’t I informed if a contract was forthcoming?”

  Reagan sighed as he clasped his hands between his knees. “Because I received the message late afternoon. I had no indication there was a contract waiting, only a message. Look in my coat pocket.” While Thomas retrieved the papers, Reagan pulled the sheet around him and disappeared into the bath chamber.

  Thomas scanned the parchment, his eyes dipping to the bottom where the signature remained unsigned. He heard the splashing of water and spoke above the noise. “Why didn’t you sign it?”

  “Because you hadn’t seen it yet,” Reagan said around his shaving brush.

  Despite his anger, Thomas softened at this show of consideration. It had crossed his mind Reagan might be attempting to override his authority. He’d just been shown the contrary. Folding the contract, he placed it in his pocket. “I’ll take it back to the office where I’ll expect you within the hour.”

  “I need coffee,” Reagan said, keeping eyes on the mirror while shaving.

  “I’ll have some sent up,” Thomas said. “Oh and Reagan…” He waited until Reagan leaned back and peered at him through the doorway. “Don’t ever try this again. I’ve taken the liberty of informing the hotel that if it makes rooms available to you for any reason, our lumber won’t be available for that new wing they want to build.”

  Long after Thomas had left, Reagan tried piecing together the images that flashed through his mind. He recalled the boring hours spent with the mayor. Then, after returning to the hotel he’d tossed down more than his usual tipple. That should’ve been it. But something kept tugging at his memory. Dismissing the notion as the by-product of too much liquor, he concentrated on making himself presentable. Thomas was right. He couldn’t continue his bouts of excessive drinking for it befuddled his normally keen memory.

  Reagan gathered the linens to return them to bed when a curious aroma teased his senses. Astonished, he drew the cloth upward and was no less bewildered when he smelled the faintest scent of roses. He stared at the sheet as if it contained a secret to which he wasn’t a party. He sniffed again, thinking his mind was surely playing tricks. Yet, the scent was there, weak but unmistakable. Instantly, images of Amanda formed as he tried making sense of the impossible.

  Despite his throbbing head, he retraced in his mind his steps the night before. He then recalled his interaction with Elizabeth. She was wearing this same fragrance. Somehow, he must’ve gotten her sachet on his clothes and transferred it to the sheets. Relieved at having found the solution, Reagan tossed the linen on the bed and gave it no further thought.

  Fortified with a bath and several cups of coffee, he headed for the office, prepared to take whatever punishment Thomas had waiting for him. He imagined it couldn’t compare to what he’d receive once he went home to face Amanda. It would be much later that Reagan would wonder how Thomas had been able to enter his suite when he knew he had locked the door.

  Chapter Seventy

  Amanda felt her emotional turmoil reemerge when Reagan once again occupied their chambers. She worried that after they spent a few nights together, he’d soon demand his husbandly rights. But so far, he played the gentleman and so she in turn, acted cordial but distant. She also noted from the calendar that this was the day she planned meeting Derrick.

  Despite believing she had every right to find happiness, she felt suffocated by her agreement to see him. To take her mind off her confusion, she decided she would first spend the morning visiting Gabriella. It would be well into afternoon before Amanda felt enough courage to make the trip to the meadow by the river.

  “Thank you, Aunt Ella for a lovely visit,” Amanda said, setting down her teacup.

  “Oh posh,” Gabriella said. “It’s you that makes each visit such a joy for this old, useless woman.”

  Amanda had wanted to talk of another troubling situation, namely, Camilla’s birthday party. But at the same time, she couldn’t let Gabriella’s words go unchallenged.

  “Useless? Why, you must be the busiest unworthy I’ve ever known.” She held up her fingers each in turn. “You’ve recently put together a sewing circle making shirts as well as bandages for soldiers. You provide food and clothing to the Negro settlement, and I know you’ve sent more than one sick child to Dr. Turner. Whenever a need arises, you step forward.”

  “You must give this old woman something to fill her time now that her other activities have ceased,” Gabriella teased. “Poor Ben has become nothing more than a nurserymam, running to the milliner’s for scrap cloth.”

  Amanda smiled at images of Ben collecting fabric that filled Gabriella’s parlor. “We must find a woman who’ll appreciate his long-suffering,” she said. “There are scores of women who would benefit from a man that does what he’s told.”

  “Over my dead body,” Gabriella said. “That man has been more than a loyal servant. Why, he’s an ally, a dear companion and friend….” Gabriella stopped when she saw Amanda’s playful grin. “Naughty child!” She shook her finger. “I should’ve known you’d learn mischief after all the sport we’ve had.” She sighed, shaking her head. “It seems like only yesterday we were playing hide and seek in the upper rooms and now here you are, a grown woman with a husband of your own.”

  “My life has indeed, grown more complicated,” Amanda said as she smoothed her napkin. “As a matter of fact, I still have reservations about attending Camilla’s party. After her last dinner, I’ve been afraid to accept her invitation, thinking it’d go no better.”

  “What happened, child?” Gabriella leaned forward. “Did something go wrong?”

  Amanda frowned at the memory. “I was openly questioned about the night Reagan and I were caught by those bounty hunters.”

  “Oh, I see. I suppose Camilla put you on the spot and tried embarrassing you.”

  “Indeed, she did,” she said. “And that’s why I have yet to accept.”

  “But that was before your wedding, wasn’t it?” Gabriella said, stacking empty plates. “Reagan would accompany you this time.”

  “I suppose he would,” Amanda said as she looked at her ring. Even to her own ears, she sounded unconvinced. How could she admit that she and her husband barely spoke and just last night, Beauregard found Reagan absent from their dinner table?

  “His presence will make all the difference in the world,” Gabriella assured. “No one would dare question you now that you’re married and certainly not with your husband nearby.” She glanced at the clock before grasping her cane to stand. “You did say
you had another appointment, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did,” Amanda said, rising to kiss Gabriella’s cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Ella. Your advice is always good. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll make sure Reagan is nearby.”

  Gabriella accepted the arm Amanda offered as they walked toward the entranceway. “You can’t avoid those that have a malevolent bent, my child. You must face them head on and take back the dignity they’re trying to snatch from you.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  Gabriella stopped near the door. “George tells me you scarcely visit. I had hoped things would grow better between you and Emily.” She stroked Amanda’s hair before touching her cheek. “In her own way, your mother loves you. I pray you’re not punishing her in some manner.”

  “Oh no,” Amanda said as she drew on her gloves. “It’s just been difficult to visit since I’ve been back. I guess I caused quite a stir with my trip to the lumber camp. Mother was quite upset. She reminded me how important it was to uphold the Bruester reputation even though I’m now married.” She gave a short laugh. “She’s correct, of course. It was thoughtless of me to do such a thing without letting anyone know my whereabouts. Had anything happened, it could’ve been disastrous.”

  “Despite how it seems, I believe Emily is trying to protect you,” Gabriella said, tying the strings of Amanda’s bonnet. “It’s worked for her all these years, and she thinks it’ll work for you as well.”

  “What?” Amanda looked perplexed. “What will work for me?”

  “Why, protecting your heart behind a façade,” Gabriella said. “To keep from hurt, Emily hides her feelings. One has to discern them through the prism of her temperament and nature.”

  Amanda considered her own pain, and how she kept it locked away. For the first time, she felt a kinship with how Emily had chosen to deal with disappointment. “Mayhap, mother’s right after all. One could certainly feel less vulnerable if a heart could be guarded.”