Elizabeth turned her face away from Josie. "Why don't you just bring me some tea?"
"That will be the fifth time this week, Miss Hamilton."
Elizabeth ignored the reproach in Josie's voice.
"Why don't I draw the curtains? The sun is shining, and it's a beautiful day out." Without waiting for a response, Josie pulled back the blue velvet draperies.
Elizabeth winced, turning her face away from the sudden light, and pulling the covers up to her neck.
"Miss Hamilton, you've got to start eating, or I'll be taking your dresses in."
Elizabeth wanted to shut out Josie's concerned voice, but knew she was right.
I need to get out of bed and face this situation, she scolded herself.
But all she wanted to do was drift back to sleep.
I can’t keep hiding.
Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and walked over to the washstand. A look in the mirror told her she really had lost weight. The purple smudges under her eyes didn't disappear when Elizabeth splashed the rose-scented water on her face.
What have I been doing to myself?
She dried her face with a linen hand towel, annoyed at her own weakness of character.
It's time to confront my brother and force him to see what he and Genia are doing to upset my life.
#
When Elizabeth entered the dining room, she saw her brother sitting at the mahogany table. "Good morning, Laurence."
He nodded. Standing, he held out a chair for her, then moved to the sideboard to serve himself.
Elizabeth poured tea out of the silver teapot into the rose patterned teacups. The delicate Dresden breakfast service had belonged to her grandmother and had always been a favorite of Elizabeth's. Soon perhaps, they might be eating off something entirely different. She couldn't bear the thought.
Elizabeth helped herself to a piece of toast, frowning as she watched Laurence fill his plate. The fishy smell of kippers, for which he had acquired a taste while on a business trip to England, turned her stomach.
"Genia was tired this morning, and I insisted she stay in bed," Laurence remarked, pushing eggs onto his fork. "She and I have been so busy with these wedding visits. She's looking forward to some peace and quiet after they're over. She has so much she'd like to do with you."
What might that be? Elizabeth sipped her tea and tried to look interested.
"I'm glad she loves Boston," her brother continued. "I was worried about her leaving her familiar life in New York."
Elizabeth reached for the silver butter dish and slowly buttered her toast. "She seems happy, and she certainly is full of plans."
Genia always has so much energy." Marvel showed on his face. "I'm sure when you come to know her, you will admire her as much as I do."
"I would have welcomed a chance to make her acquaintance before your marriage." Elizabeth put the toast in her mouth and bit down hard.
Laurence finished chewing before he answered. "Genia wanted to invite you for a visit, but I knew you'd like the surprise."
"Knew I'd...." Elizabeth dropped the toast onto her plate. The bite she'd just taken formed a hard ball in her throat. The hurt of her brother's words pounded in her heart and spread to her stomach.
He seemed oblivious to the effect his words had on her.
She swallowed enough to speak. "Laurence, I enjoy the surprise of an unexpected gift." She strove to keep the edge out of her voice. "An unexpected sister-in-law is entirely different."
Laurence shifted in his chair and moved his hand toward the newspaper, but, glancing at her face, his hand stilled.
"This is a happy change for you," she said. "However it's different for me." Her voice rose. "This has always been our home. I was the mistress of this house. Now it's yours and Genia's. Did you stop to consider my feelings at all?"
His left hand played with the edges of his newspaper. "I thought you'd be pleased. I know how much you've missed Pamela. I thought Genia would provide you with the close female companionship you've been lacking."
I wanted that too. But you chose a woman I couldn’t abide. And I know the feeling’s mutual.
Rage rose in her. Elizabeth had a nightmarish vision of standing up and throwing her teacup and toast in his face, all the while screaming like a shrew at the top of her lungs.
Instead, she reached out a shaky hand for her cup. The simple act of bringing it to her lips and swallowing the warm tea calmed her, allowing her to think. She could point out to him, sentence by painful sentence, exactly how his marriage had affected her, but what would that accomplish? The deed was done.
Elizabeth wouldn't allow her shoulders to slump in despair, so she sat erect, protecting the pain in her heart. To share her feelings of betrayal and sadness would only humiliate her further. She would distress Laurence, but nothing would change. He might even share her feelings with Genia and that would be intolerable.
He’s married to Genia, and that’s that.I must accustom myself to the situation.
Pulling the last vestiges of pride around her like a cloak, Elizabeth held her head high. "I have missed Pamela," she said in a quiet voice.
Laurence looked relieved. "I'm sure Genia and you will become just as close." He patronized her with a thin smile, then hid behind his paper.
Genia fluttered into the room, waving a letter. "My mother will arrive in two days," she caroled. "It will be so lovely to have her here in my new home. Don't you agree, dearest?" She dropped a kiss on Laurence's forehead.
He looked up from the paper, smiled, nodded, then began reading again.
Genia took a seat, reached for the teapot, and poured herself a cup. "But I'm concerned where I'll put her.
"The blue guestroom is our best."
Genia grimaced. "My mother's a light sleeper. She needs absolute quiet. The two nicest guest rooms look over the street."
Elizabeth sipped her tea. "The garden room then. It's quiet."
"Oh, no. That would never do. Pink gives my mother a headache. As for the other… It's so pokey. Hardly fit for a maid. Don't you agree, dearest?"
Laurence didn't look up. "Hmm."
Elizabeth got a sick feeling in her stomach. Genia couldn't possibly be angling for her to give up her bedroom?
"Elizabeth, would you mind? It's only for a few weeks. And I know you'll adore my mother. All my friends do."
Silence stretched out. She couldn't make herself acquiesce.
Genia appealed to the paper. "Don't you think that's a good idea, dearest?"
Laurence cleared his throat, but didn't lower the paper. "I'm sure Elizabeth would be glad to help your mother."
Elizabeth stared at the back of the newspaper in despair. If anything, this breakfast conversation had made her feel worse, not better. She could no longer make excuses for her brother's selfishness and lack of concern for her feelings. She needed to stop worrying about his marriage. He and Genia deserved each other.
Somehow, some way, I need to find a way out of this situation.
#
Elizabeth stuffed one last quilt into the already overflowing wooden crate on her parlor floor. Another packed crate, one of dozens the Ladies Aid Society would send to missions in China, stood nearby. As she slipped a small blonde doll into the folds of the quilt, she smiled.
Some black-haired, almond-eyed Chinese girl will love this doll. I wish I could see her face light up when she finds it.
The mission boxes were Elizabeth's favorite charity. Not only did she enjoy collecting clothing, blankets and medical supplies for orphans, she loved the happy memories associated with the task.
As girls, she and Pamela had helped their mothers pack the boxes. They'd always slipped in a few toys as a surprise for the Chinese orphans, and Elizabeth continued to keep up the tradition.
Today the mission work had proved a good distraction. As she packed, her vivid memories kept her from feeling alone. It seemed as if Mother, Pamela, and her dear Richard worked alongside her.
Ove
r the last unhappy weeks, Elizabeth had often found her thoughts drifting from fears of the future to past memories. Especially to Richard, the man she had loved and come so close to marrying.
At the thought of him, a smile flitted across her face. In the weeks before they packed mission boxes, Richard always solicited money from his male friends. He turned most of the funds over to Elizabeth, but with the rest, he bought some of the special presents she and Pamela hid in the boxes.
With the last painted doll tucked away, Elizabeth struggled to fit the wooden lid onto the crate. She really shouldn't have packed them so full, but she couldn't resist putting in the extras. One more smash of the blanket did the trick. The lid snugged into its groove.
Dusting off her hands, she relaxed back into her favorite chair, the one Genia seemed determined to usurp. Noticing Genia had placed the oriental vase on the table in the wrong spot, she defiantly pushed it back six inches.
She lifted the gold locket resting on her bosom, and ran a finger over the flower of seed pearls on the front. Snapping the cover open, she studied the photograph of Richard. Her imagination gave life to his warm brown eyes and the wayward lock of dark hair falling across his brow. Although a good likeness, the photograph didn't catch the laughter that had so often lighted his face.
Richard had given the necklace to Elizabeth on her eighteenth birthday, a few months before they'd become engaged, and she seldom took it off. Bringing the locket to her lips, she kissed his face, and for the thousandth time silently asked his picture why he had died. How different her life would have been---
A knock on the parlor door interrupted Elizabeth's solitary musings. She snapped the locket closed.
"Come in."
Katie entered the room, her starched black skirt rustling. "A Mr. Sanders is here to see you, Miss Hamilton."
"Mr. Sanders?" Elizabeth rummaged through her memory. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn't recall knowing a Mr. Sanders. "Did he state his business?"
"He mentioned knowing Mrs. Carter."
"Pamela?" Elizabeth jerked upright in her chair, her heart lightening in excitement. "Show him into the parlor." Now she remembered. Nick Sanders was one of the cowboys who worked for John Carter. Whatever was he doing in Boston?
#
Nick glanced around the blue and gold entryway, taking in everything--from the sweeping marble staircase to the intricately carved wooden ceilings and the massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The silence of the room settled on his shoulders. The starched cotton shirt he wore under his Sunday suit scraped against his newly scrubbed skin, sandpaper rubbing off the thin veneer of refinement. So much for trying to gloss up a simple cowboy.
Trepidation tightened his stomach muscles. Until he stood in the oppressive opulence of the Hamilton mansion, he hadn't known what he was up against. He dug his boot heels into the black and white marble floor, lest his feet up and carry him out the door. Right now, he'd rather face a grizzly bear than tackle Elizabeth Hamilton with his errand.
In the days since Miz Carter had received Elizabeth's letter, a flame had burned in his heart. The need to pluck Miss Hamilton right out of her distressing circumstances and ride off with her to Montana had caused him a ceaseless ache.
When John Carter had bought a fancy new stud from a breeder near Boston, he'd suggested Nick travel East to pick up the horse. Nick had demurred until Pamela asked him to fetch Elizabeth at the same time. Then he'd snapped at the idea like a trout after a fly. Nick half-smiled, remembering the astonishment on John's face. Carter had no idea at how sweetly his wife had baited the hook.
But now, seeing the mansion she lived in... The fire inside him flickered. Worry gnawed through his thoughts. While in living with the Carter family Elizabeth would receive all the love and respect she deserved, the ranch itself, with its passel of cowboys, grit, and farm smells, might not be a setting in which she'd shine. Could she adjust from upper class Boston to life on a ranch?
They'd soon find out. His mission was to bring her West. His fingers tightened around the letter he'd brought from Miz Carter.
The maid returned. "Miss Hamilton will receive you."
She turned and Nick followed her, his boots thudding on the marble floor, disturbing the heavy stillness of the house. His discomfort increased. He hadn't seen anyone in Boston wearing cowboy boots.
The maid ushered him into a plush parlor, with gray-blue velvet chairs set against papered walls striped in blue and silver. At the sight of Elizabeth Hamilton, all his previous concerns flew out of his mind.
She was dressed in green, the color of new leaves, with her burnished blond hair pulled back in a simple knot. Her blue eyes, more azure than the sky back home, turned in inquiry toward him. The color of her surroundings suited her. Nick had never seen a more elegant woman.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
His tongue froze like lake water in a Montana winter, and his greeting died on his lips.
#
Elizabeth heard his footsteps, slow and deliberate, before she saw him. He stepped into the room, holding a wide-brimmed black hat in his hands. She hadn't known what a Montana cowboy would look like, but she certainly hadn't expected the handsome young man in a black suit whose brown hair waved to the top of his shoulders. He stood about three inches taller than her and had dark-lashed green eyes, a nose with a slight bump as if it had been broken at one time, and a strong jaw-line.
"Miss Elizabeth Hamilton?" As he looked her over with unabashed appreciation glinting in his eyes, the last syllables of her name trailed away.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. Although used to admiring glances from gentlemen, she'd never had her appearance render a man speechless. He seemed five or six years younger than herself, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Besides, the idea of an attractive man having that look in his eyes for her touched a place in her heart that had been cold for a long time.
"Mr. Sanders?"
The sound of her voice appeared to bring the man back to earth. "Nick Sanders, ma'am. I work for the Carters on their ranch in Montana."
"Yes, Mr. Sanders, Pamela has written to me about you."
He smiled, showing straight white teeth.
Elizabeth caught her breath at how the smile blazed his green eyes to jade fire.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here." The tanned skin around his eyes crinkled with apparent amusement. "Miz Carter sent me to fetch you to the ranch."
"Fetch me to the ranch?"
"Yes, ma'am. Miz Carter wants you to come out for a visit. Maybe even make your home in Montana." He held out a letter. "This explains everything."
Elizabeth reached for the letter. Her fingers brushed his, sending tingling warmth up her arm. Her response startled her. Oddly nervous, she glanced down at the envelope. Indeed, it was Pamela's familiar handwriting.
"I have to go to the Foster Horse Farm and pick up a stud for John. I'll be back in four days time. If it's all right with you, we can leave then."
Leave? I can’t leave. Whatever would I do in Montana?
Elizabeth snuck a peek at him though lowered lashes. And she certainly wouldn't be traveling with this cowboy--even if he were an attractive man. Especially not an attractive man. Elizabeth shook her head. "I couldn't possibly travel to Montana with you."
As if trying to see into her thoughts, he shot her a penetrating look. "Is it that you won't go to Montana, ma'am? Or that you don't want to go to Montana with me?"
Disconcerted how he read her mind, she took a step back; heat flooded her cheeks. His direct manner brought her up short, and for a moment she wondered what to say. She'd better send this man on his way.
With a rustling of taffeta underskirts, Genia entered the room, violet scent trailing in her wake. "Elizabeth, I was informed we have a caller." When she saw Nick, she raised her eyebrows. Her critical gaze rested on his long hair, then slid down to his boots. "I don't believe we've met, Mr...?"
"Sanders, ma'am. Nick Sanders." He nodded.<
br />
Genia's nostrils pinched together. "Mr. Sanders." She gave him only the faintest inclination of her head. Elizabeth's stomach tightened in embarrassment at her sister-in-law's lack of graciousness. How dare Genia treat a gentleman caller in such a way, no matter if he was a young cowboy. Elizabeth stepped forward, gesturing. "Mr. Sanders, this is my brother's new wife, Genia Hamilton."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."
Genia seated herself in Elizabeth's chair, smoothed her gray silk skirt, and lifted the gold and diamond watch pinned to the bosom of her dress, pointedly checking the time. "I haven't had a chance to meet all my dear sister-in-law's ... friends."
The inflection in Genia's voice raised Elizabeth's hackles, and she changed her mind about sending the man away. "Won't you join us for tea, Mr. Sanders? We can all become better acquainted."
Genia cleared her throat.
Nick rocked his weight back. "No, thank you, ma'am. I'd best be goin'."
"Very well then."
"I'll stop back in four days to see if you've changed your mind---"
"---Oh." Genia's hand fluttered. "That wouldn't be a good day to call. We're giving a party that evening."
Elizabeth drew in her breath at Genia's rudeness. "Actually," she said smoothly, "it would be a perfect day to call on us. In fact, I'd like you to attend our dinner party as my guest. It will give us an opportunity to discuss your proposal further."
Genia gasped.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile at the pop-eyed look on her sister-in-law's face.
Reluctance, and perhaps shyness, lurked in his eyes.
"There won't be many people," Elizabeth urged. "Mrs. Hamilton is still in mourning." She sent him her sunniest smile. "Please say you'll come."
"I'm not a man with a lot of experience at fancy party goin', Miss Hamilton," he said, his gaze intent on her. "However, I can't rightly turn down such a cordial invitation."
"Excellent." Seeing the glow in his green eyes sent a shiver feathering down Elizabeth's spine. Why did he look at her that way? And why did it have such an effect on her?
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 3