Resolutely, she opened the drawer and removed a package wrapped is tissue that her father had given her with the dress. She shrugged off her wrapper then withdrew the beautiful undergarments. Slipping the chemise over her bare skin, she marveled at the heavenly texture of it against her ribs. The nainsook corset was decorated with Valenciennes lace and a green interwoven ribbon that tied up the front. The matching tie-top drawers were also nainsook and trimmed with a three-inch embroidered ruffle that rested prettily above her knees. Gathering her nerve, Evelyn stepped into the gown and attempted the column of tiny pearl buttons, but her nervous fingers kept slipping. She was used to handling shovels and harnesses, not buttons the size of nail heads.
She smoothed the dress across her hips and cringed when it snagged on her rough hands. Slowly, she turned in a circle and raised her eyes to the dressing table mirror. The silky richness swirled outward then settled around her ankles like a limpid green pool. The afternoon light reflected in warm waves along the material and upward to the tailored bodice where her hair lay like a black sash across the rich fabric. Her hair...her awful hair.
Trancelike, she drew her hand over her thick braid. She loosened the crisscrossed skeins and finger-combed it into tumbled disarray. One look at her disheveled reflection reminded Evelyn she was a woman who didn't know the first thing about dancing and flirting. Her skin had grown used to woolen shirts and rough denim britches and her feet were accustomed to the height of boot heels, not pretty sandals.
Turning, she eyed the pair of matching green kid sandals with hand-turned soles and fancy ribbon laces that lay on the bed. Bought to match the dress, they beckoned until Evelyn perched on the mattress beside them. With unsure fingers she drew on her hose, careful not to snag them, then slowly slipped her feet into the shoes and tied them closed with the silk ribbon. The feeling of the sleek, cool interior sent shivers up her neck.
She stood and wiggled her toes, then took a couple of steps. Her hips became fluid, swaying of their own volition. Her legs felt longer, sleeker. The narrowness of the shoes offered less solidity than her boots and shortened her stride. The bows crossing her arched feet looked so feminine that Evelyn covered her mouth. She couldn't possibly wear anything so rich—so feminine. She'd look ridiculous.
It was all she had, she reminded herself, privately coveting the sleek material snugging her skin. Her back became straighter, her chin a bit higher, her hips swaying gracefully as she walked. Disconcerted, she tightened her buttocks and stiffened her legs. Four more steps and still the sway.
Ignoring her inner doubts, Evelyn brushed her hair while her curling tongs were heating on her lamp. She had no idea how long to heat the iron and her first attempt singed her hair. After they cooled some, she tried again and managed a tight curl. It took several minutes to curl her thick hair and keep the tongs heated, but when she finished and looked in the mirror at what she’d accomplished, her hands flew to her mouth in horror. “Oh no,” she whispered to her wild reflection.
Her hair flew in umpteen different directions and spiraled around her like a bushel of wood shavings. In a state of panic, Evelyn brushed through the unruly mass until she could gather it on top of her head and secure it with a tightly tied ribbon. Despairing that it could ever be contained with pins, she wrapped, tucked, twisted, and pinned, until finally the thick mass was resting on top of her head—and tumbling down the back of her neck—and spiraling around her pink-stained cheeks.
It was not the artfully coiffed hairstyle that Nancy had shown her how to arrange, but it would have to do. Kyle would be arriving any moment. She clipped on her mother's pearl earrings and took one last look in the mirror. Never had Evelyn warred with her emotions like this. It felt divine to be wrapped in silk so shimmering and alive it seemed to breathe. Her reflection lifted her heart, her feminine cascade of curls appealing to her woman's ego. But reality weighed her hopes, taunting her for wistful thoughts, reminding her that she was plain Evelyn Tucker who knew more about the workings of a livery than that of a woman.
Defiantly, Evelyn fastened the matching pearl necklace around her neck, pausing to smell the jasmine on her wrists. Mrs. Brown had given Evelyn the soap last week when she made her first payment on Rebecca’s doll. Evelyn had used the scented cake on every inch of her body this morning, and for the second time in her life, she felt feminine. The first time was in Radford’s strong arms.
o0o
Radford heard Evelyn’s bedroom door close and purposefully stepped into the hall in front of her, halting in stunned appreciation when his eyes met hers. The emerald vision before Radford left him speechless. He could see the breathless rise and fall of Evelyn's chest, but his own breathing seemed to have stopped. His gaze traveled the length of her gown and returned slowly to her face that had flushed to the color of spring roses. Her eyes were the exact green of her dress and that hair...that glorious abundance of shining black ringlets that he loved unbound and swirling around her hips, surprised him that it could be so magnificent styled any other way. A single strand dangled seductively over her ear and trailed between her collarbones.
Unconsciously, he moved forward and cupped her arms in his palms, letting his hands slide down her silk sleeves until they rested at her wrists. “You’re magnificent.”
“Thank you.” Her voice shook and she lowered her lashes.
He gently squeezed her wrists, regaining her attention. “I need to talk to you.”
“Evelyn!” William called up the stairs. “There's an overdressed young man down here that says he's willing to give you a ride to the wedding if you're ready to go. You are ready, aren't you?” William hollered from below.
“Yes, Papa,” Evelyn said over the railing.
“Tell him you forgot something in your room,” Radford urged, desperate to steal a few minutes alone with her.
“I can’t.” Evelyn ducked her face. “I have to go.” He tightened his hold around her wrists, but she stepped around him and gently, but firmly, pulled free. “You don’t have to explain about honoring Kyle,” she said quietly. “I understand. And I admire you for it.”
o0o
Kyle stood by the door, as spit-shined as his Sunday shoes, and incredibly handsome. Evelyn flushed as his eyes raked her from her tumbled curls to her green-encased toes, staring until her father cuffed Kyle’s shoulder.
“Come here, pixie, before this boy drools on himself,” he said. He put his thin arms around Evelyn and hugged her. “Sometimes you remind me so much of your mother it tears my heart out.” He kissed her cheek then steered her toward Kyle. “Go on before I start rainin' all over myself. I’ll go with Radford.”
Kyle didn't move and Evelyn squirmed beneath his intense regard. “Will you quit staring like you've never seen me in a dress before?” She whisked her palms down the front of her gown. “I'm the same girl you chased through the apple orchard.”
“Sorry,” Kyle said with a sheepish grin. He stepped aside and opened the door for her, but the instant it banged closed behind them, he reached out and caught her elbow. “You’d better stay away from that orchard tonight,” he said, his voice alarmingly seductive. “I wouldn’t let you get away this time.”In a moment Kyle would be trying to kiss her and Evelyn just couldn’t let him. She cared too deeply for Kyle to let him pursue a relationship with no future. Instead of commenting, she tugged him toward the carriage, let him assist her inside, then talked about her horses all the way to the wedding.
The church was packed when they arrived and Evelyn heard the murmur begin when they entered. She huddled beneath her shawl, blushing from the surprised stares of all the guests. When the ceremony began and the bride and groom gazed at each other with adoration, Evelyn knew she’d made the right decision about Kyle.
Her legs quaked as Kyle escorted her from the church and took her to the reception. Radford stood just inside Colter Hall beside Duke and Boyd, holding Rebecca's hand in his long, bronzed fingers. His hair was brushed back into thick, deep-brown waves that fell o
ver his white collar. Even next to Boyd's extraordinary good looks, Radford was more attractive, more compelling in his cheviot suit of charcoal gray that complemented his lean height and dark features.
All eyes turned toward Evelyn and Kyle as though they were unknown guests. The men gawked at her the same way Kyle had earlier and Evelyn had never felt more conspicuous in her life.
Kyle touched her back and she looked up into his beaming face. “I believe you're creating a scene. The girls are green and the older ladies are breaking their necks to get a look at you. Not to mention the men.”
She stared at Kyle for a second before she laughed. “Oh, bosh. They're probably trying to see if I'm wearing my work boots beneath my dress.”
He laughed and gestured toward the crowd. “Look.”
She did, then clasped his arm for dear life. “Get me out of this doorway and find our table.” She heard his deep chuckle and silently cursed him as he winked at his brothers on the way by. The strutting cock was enjoying this while she was dodging the stares of men like Greg Hopper who was having trouble finding his mouth with his beer mug.
Kyle took her to the table their families were sharing, then brought her a glass of punch. “Don't drink that too fast. I heard that Perry Morton laced it with corn liquor.”
Evelyn gulped it down, hoping to calm her quaking limbs. Her father raised a gray eyebrow and Evelyn flushed. She shrugged, then smiled when he laughed and shook his head. Evelyn glanced at Kyle’s mother, but she was playing with Rebecca and Helen who were ducking behind Doc Kendall’s chair.
Evelyn drew a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She watched the dancers twirl by, swirling scents of lavender powder and cologne, their laughter cheerful as they clung to each other. As her gaze traveled the room, she smelled the musty old wood, tobacco, yeasty beer, and beeswax, smells unlike her livery or Brown and Shepherd's store.
Radford stood a few feet away, laughing with his brothers and their competitor, Tom Drake, but when he spotted Evelyn, his smile disappeared. His eyes grew dark, searching hers as if asking her a silent question.
Tom’s daughter, Amelia, joined their party and Radford turned away to greet Evelyn’s friend. Amelia’s chestnut-colored, long hair was pulled up in an elegant twist and secured with a pearl clasp that matched the buttons on her dress of mocha brown. Evelyn admired Amelia’s simple elegance, but she envied her Radford’s attention. When Amelia smiled and waved, Evelyn returned the greeting with sincerity. Still, she was relieved when Boyd swept Amelia into a dance and away from Radford.
“My dear, you are simply lovely tonight.”
Startled, Evelyn turned to see Agatha Brown seating herself in the empty chair beside her.
“How did you get all that hair on top of your head in such a becoming style?” the store owner asked with a smile in her eyes.
“I used every pin in the house, then I stole Radford's horseshoe nails. They hurt a little, but they kept it in place.”
Mrs. Brown laughed delightedly. “Well, that's just the answer I deserve for being nosy.”
Evelyn sobered immediately. “I didn't mean that at all, Mrs. Brown. I was jesting.”
“Call me Agatha, dear, and I know that. I'm just discovering how fun it is to play again. Your father tells me I used to have quite a sense of humor, that I used to make him laugh. We were just talking about the day when...”
As Mrs. Brown rattled on, Evelyn sat in a state of amazement, for she'd never heard this many words from the woman in all the years she'd known her.
“...but my Frank took me to our favorite picnic area at Point Graitiot where we could watch the ships sail in and out of Dunkirk. We'd share fresh bread and cheese and—Agatha paused, casting a conspiratorial look at Evelyn—and a few sips of wine. It was quite romantic, really.”
To think that Mrs. Brown went on picnics and drank wine was paramount to a miracle. That she was divulging this to Evelyn was surely an act of divine intervention. But Evelyn hung on every word, blocking Radford from her thoughts and the fact that the Grayson men were openly admiring Amelia Drake, whom Evelyn could see out of the corner of her envious eye.
“Picnics by Lake Erie were twice as romantic at night, but Frank and I were married then,” Mrs. Brown said with a wink. “Do you and that young man of yours go for picnics?”
“No, he’s too busy with the mill.”
“No one should be too busy to spend time with their sweetheart. That's very important,” she warned, waving a finger. “You need a man that would put everything aside if you asked him to. That’s how you know if he really loves you.”
Evelyn was certain Kyle would not take a day away from his work simply because she asked him to do so. Perhaps it didn’t signify a lack of love, but it reaffirmed her decision to end their engagement.
They sat in silence for a moment, then Mrs. Brown chuckled. “You're a very patient girl.”
Evelyn’s brows lifted. “I am?”
“I waited until you were sitting alone so we could talk. But I've been blathering like an idiot, giving you every opportunity to question me about your father, and you haven’t asked a thing.”
“Why, I would never...It would be—”
“Improper,” Mrs. Brown finished for her. “Well, I can tell you all about being proper. You may as well be dead.” At Evelyn's in-drawn breath, Mrs. Brown continued. “That's how I've felt since Frank died. I was expected to act the mourning widow, and I did because I was devastated. But after a while I forgot what it was like to be happy.” She turned to Evelyn, her face pained. “I spent twelve lonely years that way and it was awful. I started to remember how special life is the day you came in the store with that beautiful little girl. I saw the wonder on her face when she spotted the doll, and I could tell by your eyes that you would have sacrificed anything in that moment to be able to give it to her. I thought, this is the spirit of love. To have someone who needs you as much as you need them. I knew that I could learn something from you.”
“What could I possibly teach you?”
“Compassion. Strength. Both traits remind me of your mother.”
“They do?” Evelyn asked.
Mrs. Brown leaned back in her chair, holding a glass of punch in her lap. “Your mother made up her own mind about things and had the daring to follow through with her decisions. At one time, she was my dearest friend, Evelyn. I miss her deeply.”
Evelyn glanced down the table at her father to make sure he was occupied with the girls. “Mrs. Brown, would tell me about my parents? Until recently I had no idea about your engagement to my father, and sometimes I feel like I never knew my mother.”
“I came over here so we could talk. I need to know my best friend's daughter. It's rather selfish of me, wouldn't you say?”
Evelyn smiled. “I wouldn't. I'm flattered.”
Mrs. Brown set her empty glass on the table and folded her hands. “When your father broke our engagement, I was hurt and wrongly blamed your mother. I met Frank two years later and was shocked to find I could care so deeply for him. That’s when I realized your father did me a favor. If I had married him, I would never have met Frank. I would never have known the joy I had with my husband for fourteen years. You see, your father gave me the opportunity to find true love and be happy. It was a gift. He tried to explain it to me then, but I was angry and felt sorry for myself. And I was jealous. Frank taught me to be true to myself and that is why we were so happy.”
“It must be unbearable without your husband.”
Agatha squeezed Evelyn's hand. “It is awful, but believe me, Evelyn, love is a gift worth any sacrifice.
Evelyn thought in that moment that she could not like Agatha Brown more. “Mrs. Brown, would you consider befriending my father again? I'm sure the two of you would make very good friends, even if you're not suited for marriage.”
Agatha's eyes softened to warm brown and her lips trembled. “I think I am very lucky to have met a young lady in dungarees.” She squeezed Evelyn's hand. �
�Your father and I renewed our friendship the day I dropped off the apple pie for him. He’s even promised me a dance tonight.”
Evelyn smiled. “No wonder my parents loved you.”
“Lord, it figures!” Agatha said in tearful exasperation. “All these years I've kept a useless handkerchief up my sleeve and now I can't find the dratted thing when I need it!”
They were still laughing when Kyle came to claim Evelyn for a dance. Evelyn pressed her arms to her side and ducked her head. “I’d rather not, Kyle,” she said, not wanting to encourage him knowing how their evening would end.
Kyle leaned down and spoke near her ear. “My arms have been empty long enough.” He caught Evelyn’s waist and lifted her from the chair, guiding her directly onto the dance floor without giving her a moment to argue.
Evelyn clutched his arm. “Kyle, please, I don't know how to dance.”
“You’re with friends and family,” he said, gesturing to Radford and Amelia who were their immediate neighbors.
Evelyn’s heart careened into her ribs. She bit her lip and turned away. “Can’t we please sit and enjoy the music?”
“Not tonight.” Kyle drew her into his arms. “We’ll be dancing at our wedding, Ev. Tonight's a fine night to learn how to waltz.”
Evelyn accepted Kyle’s trembling hand, a feeling of dread pulsing through her. She focused on Kyle’s broad chest, blocking out everything except the movement of their feet and the sound of the music. Undoubtedly, Kyle’s sure steps and guiding hand made her ignorance of the function less obvious, still Evelyn tried to leave as soon as the song ended.
“Not yet,” Kyle said, keeping her on the floor for the full set of four songs. By the time he escorted her back to their table, Evelyn was feeling somewhat more comfortable with the dancing, but was heartsick and just wanted to go home.
Shades of Honor Page 18