Cheryl St. John

by The Mistaken Widow

  I am not Claire Halliday. I was never married to your Stephen. I only met him that night of the train wreck. He took me in out of the rain and he and Claire gave me food and dry clothing and shared their berth with me.

  If they had been in that compartment that night, they might still be alive. So you see, I am responsible for their deaths. That is something I will live with for the rest of my life.

  That and the lies. I lied to you and pretended to be Claire so that I could take advantage of you until my leg was healed and I was able to make it on my own.

  Enclosed you will find a list of all the items I have taken with me. As soon as I am settled and have a job, I will repay you for the clothing and food and the time spent in your home.

  I can never repay you for your kindness, nor for the sin of lying to you and for the loss of your son and brother. I can only tell you how very ashamed and sorry I am.

  I don’t know if you can find it in your hearts to not hate me. For the things I have done, I hate myself.

  You have no reason to believe me, but now you must see I have nothing left to lose, so I want you to believe this: Stephen was a good man. He knew how to love. He was a son and brother to be proud of. I was but a stranger, and he and Claire showed me kindness. You would have liked Claire, I know. Cherish their memories.

  Sincerely, Sarah Thornton.

  Sarah folded her letter with the list inside and sealed them in an envelope. On the outside, she carefully penned Nicholas and Leda’s names, then tucked it under her pillow.

  As soon as Nicholas was gone in the morning and Gruver returned, she’d place the note in plain sight and leave.

  Nicholas arrived home early, in a good mood and hungry.

  “Mr. Halliday, sir,” Penelope said. “Your mother requested that I ask you to join her in the parlor as soon as you arrived home. She has a guest.”

  To his surprise, he found Judith Marcelino. His mother appeared decidedly uncomfortable.

  The young woman wore a vivid green dress, something resembling all the fabrics Claire had given to the iron workers’ wives. The bodice bore a plunging neckline, and he drew his eyes from the area she strove to accentuate to her pale green cat eyes.

  “Mr. Halliday,” she said, offering her ungloved hand. “I’ve been waiting for Claire most of the day. We had an appointment.”

  “And she’s not here?” he asked.

  “She left me a note that she’d gone to the Cranes’,” Leda said. “But she always returns by now. And she’s taken William with her, which is unusual.”

  “Well, she is his mother,” he stated.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “And the Cranes are no longer sick, so I guess it’s normal for her to go calling and take him along. She does enjoy visiting them.”

  “But she’s always back by now?” he asked.

  “Yes. She always oversees dinner. And it’s odd that she’s forgotten her appointment with Miss Marcelino. That’s unlike Claire.”

  His mother seemed truly upset over Claire’s lateness. To set her mind at rest, he’d summoned Gruver.

  “Gruver, did you have a time agreed upon to bring Mrs. Halliday home from the Cranes’?”

  “I didn’t take her to the Cranes’. But I did take her to Youngstown.”

  “Youngstown! And when were you supposed to return for her?”

  “She said she arranged for transportation home, sir.”

  “Where, specifically, did you drop off Mrs. Halliday?”

  “Specifically?” He swallowed. “At a jeweler’s.”

  “Why there?”

  “She asked me if I knew where she could sell jewelry for the best price.”

  Nicholas’s mind ran in circles. What jewelry was she selling? And why? She had no need for money. The whole thing sounded so bizarre—as though she were running away. But why would she?

  If she was all he’d originally suspected, had she met someone and run off with him? But why would she keep it a secret?

  He turned and looked at his mother. She stared at him in disbelief.

  “Oh, you poor dears,” Judith said. “I was afraid of this. I came to warn you, but it appears I’m too late.”

  Nicholas moved to stand before her. “What do you mean?”

  She stood and moved her body directly beside Nicholas’s. “I knew Claire back in New York, and she always went with the fellow with the most to give. Don’t take it personally.” Tucking her arm through his sympathetically, she allowed her generous breast to brush his coat sleeve. Nicholas couldn’t help but get an eyeful when he looked down at her.

  He moved away.

  “I’d check for the silver and jewels,” she added with a knowing sidelong glance.

  “Why, Claire wouldn’t—” Leda began.

  “Wouldn’t she?” Judith cut her off. “You didn’t think she’d run out without so much as a by-your-leave, either, did you?” She moved to sit beside Leda and take her hand. “Oh, you poor thing. I know how distressed you are.” She touched the fingertips of one hand to her own chest in a dramatic gesture. “And rightfully so. I can’t bear to think of that dear sweet baby with that irresponsible woman.”

  Leda’s gray eyes opened wide, and she stared from Judith to her son in shock. “You don’t think—oh my…”

  Nicholas sat beside his mother, placed his arm around her shoulders and glared at Judith over the top of her head. “You’ve seen her with the baby, Mother. You know she’ll take good care of him.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure she’ll take care of the Halliday heir,” Judith said quickly. “He’s worth a fortune, after all.”

  “What was your business with Claire?” Nicholas asked her quickly, before she could say more to upset his already distressed mother.

  “She owed me some money. I can see I’m not going to get that now.”

  “What did she owe you money for?”

  “I made her a loan to help her out of a scrape back in New York. She kept saying she’d repay me.”

  “How much?”

  She eyed him consideringly. “Let’s not worry about that right now. You have enough on your mind, what with the baby missing and all. I’ll leave you to—to tally your valuables.”

  Nicholas tried not to let his mother feel his distress. The Marcelino woman rubbed him the wrong way. Or was it his own humiliation rubbing him raw? He’d been deceived but good, and the fact rankled.

  “Gruver, see Miss Marcelino out.”

  Gruver directed a scathing look at the woman. “My pleasure.”

  “Now, do call on me to do anything I can,” she said in a sugary-sweet voice, and patted the reticule she’d been holding snugly beneath her arm. “I will be praying for your little William’s safety.”

  Nicholas waved her off and Gruver ushered her from the room.

  “I can’t believe Claire would have done this, Nicholas,” his mother said shakily. “Can we be sure something dreadful hasn’t happened to her?”

  “You heard Gruver, Mother. She left of her own free will.”

  “Perhaps there’s some mistake. Perhaps she’ll be here soon.”

  He didn’t hold much hope of that. Nicholas took his mother’s arm. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re going to check your jewelry case.”

  “No!” she insisted.

  “Then I’ll do it.”

  She stood and took his arm. “All right”

  He threw open her door and entered her violet- and camphor-scented room. “Where do you keep them?”

  “Here,” she said, her voice quivering. She pulled open a drawer and unrolled a satin jewelry bag.

  Tears began in earnest. She sobbed into her hankie.

  “What! What the hell is missing?”

  “M-my rings. The emerald necklace your father gave me. The diamond bracelet that you bought me for my birthday.”

  Nicholas cursed and slammed his fist against the top of the dresser. “I knew it! I knew that damned woman was trouble from the minute
I heard her name!”

  Mother wilted onto the bed’s edge and cried brokenly. “How could she? How c-could she do this to us? And W-William!” she sobbed, sounding as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Her voice grew hysterical. “We must find him! We can’t let anything h-happen to William!”

  Nicholas heard the grief and hurt and panic in his mother’s words and with deliberate effort stopped his own outraged ranting. He sat beside her and pulled her against his chest. “There, there. You’re a goodhearted person. She took advantage of that.”

  He had no words of comfort for her. She would mourn her grandson as she mourned her husband and her son.

  “Will you go after her?” she asked. “For the jewelry?”

  He stroked her hair. “I’ll go buy your jewelry back at Grambs’.”

  “I don’t care about the jewelry. I care about William!”

  “I know, Mother—”

  “You must find William. I want my grandson!”

  Hurt and anger boiled up in him. He never wanted to set eyes on Claire again. He hoped she’d run as fast and as far as her legs and his money could take her. But his mother wanted her grandson back. “All right,” he promised. “I’ll look for him.”

  “Thank you, Nicholas. Thank you. I just don’t understand.” She sobbed. “Why would she steal from us and run off?”

  “A conniving mind never makes sense,” he replied.

  “But what little she could get from the sale of that jewelry is nothing compared to what she could have had staying here. All she had to do was ask.”

  She was right. It was illogical. “Unless she was biding her time here, and needed a few dollars to get her to a bigger and better conquest.”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe that.”

  After Nicholas calmed her down, sent for the doctor and had his mother sedated and resting, he approached Celia’s door. Claire had run out on her mother, too. But maybe the woman knew something.

  Nicholas received no reply to his knock. He pushed open the door.

  The woman slumped in a chair by the dormant fireplace. An empty bottle lay on the carpet at her feet, and another, half-full, stood on a nearby table. The room smelled stale.

  “Celia!” he said sharply.

  She didn’t move.

  He opened a window, carried her to the bed and filled a waste can with all the bottles—full and empty—before he carried it out and closed the door behind him.

  He instructed the servants not to bring her liquor without his permission, checked on his mother and finally closed himself in his room.

  Nicholas stared at the cognac decanter on his desk, thought better of it and shrugged out of his shirt. He’d been the man of this house for many years, but at that moment he’d have given anything to have someone else make decisions for a while.

  He didn’t want to find Claire.

  But his mother wanted her grandson.

  Even as he checked his personal belongings and discovered a diamond stickpin and a watch missing, he had to agree with his mother that Claire’s running off made no sense.

  He turned down the wick in the oil lamp and leaned back on the bed. Her betrayal ate at him. He’d been right not to trust her. She’d married Stephen for the Halliday money.

  And until he himself married and produced a child, she was the mother of the only Halliday heir.

  She could have had so much more here.

  The light burned out and darkness enfolded him.

  He cared about the money. He was livid over the jewelry.

  Nicholas folded his arm over his eyes.

  Unbidden, an ugly nagging suspicion crept into his mind. Milos. Nicholas tried to bury the thought deep, but it persisted until he allowed himself to examine it. The two of them had seemed comfortable with each other. He’d seen them absorbed in conversation from time to time. They’d shared private smiles.

  Nicholas hated himself for distrusting his friend. Milos wouldn’t betray him. He was too levelheaded to let her steal his good sense.

  But hadn’t Nicholas always believed that about himself, too? And look how easily he’d been fooled. She could fool the best of men.

  No. He took control of his thoughts. He was torturing himself. Milos was a good-looking man, but he wouldn’t be rich enough for Claire’s tastes. Besides, he was decent and loyal, and would not run off with his employer’s sister-in-law.

  What was wrong with him? He hadn’t behaved like himself since he’d gone to bring Claire home.

  Humiliation crept over him and settled in his chest. He’d never entertained such degrading thoughts. He’d never wanted a woman so badly before. Oh, he’d fancied himself in love years ago, but that had been nothing like the all-consuming need and passion he’d felt for this woman. He’d been drawn to her from their first meeting. His feelings had shocked him, made him feel disloyal to his brother, and he’d fought them.

  That was her ploy, he realized with bitterness. Whereas Judith Marcelino’s obvious seduction tactics sickened him, Claire’s had reeled him in. That air of provocative innocence was her trump. And she’d had him.

  She could have had it all. He couldn’t understand why she’d fled when her artifice had been so successful.

  But she was gone. And that was all he had to go by.

  He never wanted to see her again. But he would honor his mother’s wishes.

  The following morning he stood before Gramb and Sons’ door as Howard Gramb arrived. The portly gentleman unlocked and unbolted the door and ushered Nicholas inside.

  “Have you come for a gift?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve come for the jewelry that a young woman sold yesterday.”

  “Ah. Yes.” He bent, opened a floor safe and withdrew a satin box. “A lovely piece.”

  Nicholas stared at the emerald bracelet. The one he’d seen on Claire’s wrist at least twice. “What about the rest? An emerald necklace, several rings, a diamond bracelet—”

  Howard Grambs shook his bald head.

  “A diamond stickpin, a gold pocket watch?”

  He shook his head again. “This is the only piece I bought all day.”

  “But she offered you others?”

  “No. This was the only piece she had.”

  “Very well. How much did you give her for it?”

  “I would not be a shrewd businessman if I told you that, now would I? Then you would know enough to barter the price until I made no profit.”

  Nicholas scowled, and the man’s expression flattened.

  “I don’t give a damn about your profit margin. I want to know how much you gave her for this bracelet.”

  “One hundred and twenty-five dollars,” he admitted.

  “It’s worth four times that.”

  “Not to me. I’ll be lucky to get two-fifty for it.”

  Nicholas opened his jacket and plucked bills from his flat leather wallet. “Two-fifty it is.”

  He reached across the counter to take the bracelet from the surprised man. “If she comes back, notify me immediately.”

  He dropped a card on the glass counter.

  “Yes, Mr.—Halliday! I will. Thank you for your business.”

  Nicholas dropped the bracelet into his pocket. “How many other jewelers are in Youngstown?”

  “Seven, I believe.”

  Nicholas exited the store.

  Shortly after ten, he concluded she’d either taken the rest with her or she hadn’t left town yet. He left a card with each business owner, along with instructions to notify him if someone came in with the items described.

  That night at dinner he pulled the bracelet from his pocket.

  His mother, who hadn’t eaten a bite, stared at the winking emeralds. “It’s Claire’s.”

  He shrugged. “Or something she stole from someone else. She sold it to Gramb.”

  “The rest?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I wired every jeweler in five states, Mother. I’ll get your things back.”

&nb
sp; She nodded. She didn’t care about the jewelry.

  Dinner was silent. She stared at the bassinet until Nicholas ordered Mrs. Pratt to remove it. Finally, she excused herself.

  “Good night, Mother.” He waited until she left the room before he shoved his plate away, planted his elbows on the table and wearily covered his face with his hands.

  Damn the woman! Damn her to hell! Hadn’t she caused enough upheaval in this family by marrying Stephen? Did she have to hurt his mother, too? For the life of him he couldn’t imagine what she had to gain by it.

  And what about him? Them. What about the kisses and caresses that had passed between them?

  Yes, what about those?

  What had he been thinking? Every self-preserving instinct he possessed had cried out to him to be wary of her. He’d been wary. And he’d been fascinated. Captivated. Stupid as hell.

  She was the perfect deceiver. Beautiful. Passionate with an air of innocence. And he’d been drawn to her as a moth to a flame.

  “Are you finished, sir?”

  Nicholas looked up to find Mrs. Pratt clearing the table. “Yes, thank you.”

  His voice didn’t sound like his own. He stood. His home didn’t feel like his own. Nothing was as it should be.

  And he still had to face her mother.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What do you know about Claire leaving?” Nicholas asked her mother the following day.

  Celia moved slowly, as if it hurt to use her muscles. She opened a drawer, looked in a cabinet, glanced around the room. “Leaving for where?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you.”

  “Where’s the bottle I had here last night?” she asked herself.

  “I’ll answer that after you answer me.”

  She squinted at him and sank onto a chair. “All right Get it the hell over with. I’m thirsty.”

  “I want to know where Claire went and why she left.”

  “Left?” Celia repeated.

  “That’s right.”

  “You mean packed up, took off, left?”

  “Precisely. Well, she didn’t actually pack up much, but she’s gone. Sold the bracelet she said you gave her.”

  “What bracelet?”