“You must forgive me, Mrs. Rambert. But there’s something about you that makes a man feel reckless and daring. And it’s not just that you’re beautiful, though you’re certainly that.” He grinned as the color flared in her cheeks again. “Do you know how fetching you look when you blush? No, of course you don’t. That’s part of your charm, you know. That you’re so unaware of what you are.”
He watched her for a few moments. She was silent and careful to avoid his eyes, but her breast rose and fell with her excitement...or discomfort. Unfortunately, Matt was fairly certain it was the latter. Not only was she lovely, she was innocent as a lamb. And beyond the innocence, he was sure, lay a smoldering fire. A passionate woman, in spite of her cool exterior. He had not been exaggerating when he told her she made him feel reckless and daring. Indeed, he felt just enough bravado to insist that she share a second dance with him, though he knew quite well that Drayton would not like it. Perhaps because Ambrosia knew it as well, she accepted.
Drayton watched as Ambrosia eagerly made for the ballroom with Matt, then went immediately to the smoking parlor to get himself a drink of something stronger than champagne. The evening had been a trying one from the moment he’d laid eyes on Ambrosia in that soft pink and lavender gown. It reminded him of a gown Kathryn had worn, with all the lace and softness, but he couldn’t really remember Kathryn’s face anymore. He could only remember Ambrosia’s. Tonight, watching her so intently, listening closely for any sign of defiance in her cool responses only made Drayton aware of how desirable she was, of how much he still wanted her. His arms ached to hold her, his fingers to touch her skin, her hair...even as his soul cried out in anguish with the memories of each time he had.
And Carolyn...always there, smiling, taunting him with something he had taken once but never really wanted, offering to satisfy him without ever realizing that she never could. Drayton took a long swallow of straight bourbon and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the drink to settle his nerves.
“I was hoping to find you alone.”
He opened his eyes and forced a smile for Ken Galbraith, who ordered a drink of straight whiskey as well. Drayton frowned a little when he did that. Ken was not a drinking man.
“I-I must apologize for my wife,” Ken said after he had tested his drink. “She took her brother’s death quite hard, you see. But I didn’t realize that she would blame your wife for-’’
“It’s all right, Ken. Ambrosia understands.” Drayton said the words mechanically, but as he did so he remembered the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice when she said, “I am sorry about your brother.” He shook off the uncertainty that assailed him at the thought and took another sip of his drink, berating himself for being a fool. She had acted out a part because he had threatened her, because she was afraid of losing Mandy. Nothing more. “She’s a very beautiful woman,” Ken remarked thoughtfully. “I must admit I didn’t expect her to be.
There’s been a lot of talk about-not that I pay attention to that sort of thing,” he inserted quickly. “But I’ve made it a habit to do business with upright family men. They just seem to be more reliable, more stable. And the gossip made me wonder if you’d come to town alone and taken on that business to escape a difficult woman. There were things said about a scandal in Charleston, and of course, Mrs. Craig has been very...” A flicker of something in Drayton’s eyes made Ken stop before he finished that sentence. ‘’Well,’’ he went on with a forced smile, “anyone can see that the gossip was wrong. Your wife is a treasure. And her regard for you is just as obvious.”
Ken finished off his drink and drew a lengthy breath. “What I’m trying to say is, I think it’s time we talked a firm business deal between Galbraith Distribution and Rambert Carriage Paints. I leave for Philadelphia Monday morning, but when I return we’ll work out the particulars. I think it will profit us both, Drayton.” He smiled and gave the younger man a hearty pat on the back. “I think your Uncle Henry would have been pleased.”
Drayton managed a smile in return, but something inside him twisted at the mention of Henry Collinsworth. Henry would never have approved of what he was doing. But James Rambert would have. How empty Drayton felt at the thought, a thought he quickly pushed aside. He had gotten what he wanted. Now he only had to work hard, to follow things through.
He drained his glass and excused himself, not wanting to leave Ambrosia alone once her dance with Matt was over. There was still a chance that she could ruin everything. But when he returned to the parlor, he found that she had not returned from the ballroom. Angry now, he made his way through the crowd and watched the last few rotations. of the dance. Matt bent gallantly to kiss her hand as the music ended, and Ambrosia smiled at him, a small smile, a timid kind of smile. All the same it angered Drayton. He waited impatiently for her to leave the dance floor.
Ambrosia’s smile vanished when she turned and saw him standing at the edge of the ballroom. So he had noticed that she danced more than a single dance with Matt, she thought. The brightness in his narrow eyes told her that he was angry. She was almost glad. She was also a little afraid. She lifted her chin and somehow managed to smile again as she made her way toward him.
“It’s time we went home,” he said curtly. “Lily’s waiting.”
He took hold of her hand and led her to the parlor with a stiff, arrogant stride. She followed without a word. It took every bit of her strength to hide her emotions, to smile and mouth all the proper farewells and thank-yous. Just a little longer, she told herself, just one more smile...
Ambrosia’s face tightened when Carolyn stepped in front of her, blocking her and Drayton’s exit from the parlor. “You must come to tea tomorrow, Ambrosia,” Carolyn insisted. “Both you and Mrs. Collinsworth, that is. Leanne will be there, and Muriel and-”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Craig, but Lily and I are leaving first thing in the morning.”
Carolyn’s eyes lit up immediately. “Are you really?” she pressed. Her eyes flew to Drayton’s. “Drayton, is she really? You didn’t tell me her visit would be so brief,” she scolded him.
Lily cut off Drayton’s reply by linking her arm in his. “You’ll have to forgive us, Mrs. Craig, but we really must be going. I am so very tired.”
Carolyn had no choice but to step aside and allow Drayton to escort his aunt and wife outside.
Ambrosia avoided Drayton’s eyes when he lifted her into the brougham. She moved swiftly to the far comer, fixing her eyes carefully on her gloved hands, which lay tightly laced in her lap. She was grateful that Lily had come along, forcing her to hold back her tears of humiliation. She should never have attended this party, should never have come into town at all. She didn’t belong here, acting the part of Drayton’s wife when she had never been a wife to him.
Her fingers twisted as she remembered the days in Charleston when he had wanted her, when she had screamed her hatred at every turn. She closed her eyes tightly and forced that memory from her mind. That Drayton no longer existed. The hatred she had once felt for him had somehow changed hands, bringing them to this second battleground, leaving a part of her that had taken so long to heal lying weak and wounded once again. She felt almost as if she were dying inside a second time, as the hatred he felt for her cut and slashed her apart. She could not endure another battle like the one that had taken place tonight. She could not even face his eyes. Her head was filled with images of Carolyn in his arms, Carolyn whispering and giggling in his ear, Carolyn dancing with him...She bit her lip hard and shook her head to force back the tears. She couldn’t cry now. Just a little longer, just a few minutes more.
Drayton studied Ambrosia’s face now and again during the carriage ride, but only when he was sure Lily was not watching him. He was upset to think that Ken Galbraith had made a business decision tonight simply because Ambrosia had made the right impression. Months of backbreaking work and long weeks of talk had not been enough. What an irony it was
to owe the success of Rambert Paints to her, when he had turned to it simply to forget her, to build something he could be proud of without anyone else’s help. It riled him to know that now he was indebted to her. He didn’t want to owe her anything.
He frowned as his eyes lingered on her face. She looked small and almost fragile huddled in her comer of the brougham, drawn up as far away from him as possible, her eyes fixed distantly on her hands. She had hardly met his eyes all evening and had done everything in her power to keep from touching him. Yet she had been eager to dance with Matt, had even remained on the dance floor, smiling up at him, after he pressed a kiss to her hand. And her regard for you is just as obvious, Ken had said earnestly. A bitter smile touched Drayton’s lips as the words ran through his mind.
Ambrosia tensed inwardly as the brougham rolled to a stop before the pretentious brownstone. But she did not move until after Drayton had assisted Lily, using every moment to steel herself before she placed her hand in his, before her body slid briefly against him. She turned away without ever lifting her eyes, hurrying after Lily, barely mouthing a good night before she hurried off to her room. She felt Drayton’s eyes upon her until she reached the shadows of the hallway. Then she abruptly abandoned her facade of calm and ran to her room. She closed the door behind herself and leaned heavily against it for a long time, biting her lip hard as she tried to keep from sobbing aloud. The tears rolled swiftly down her cheeks. It was over. Tomorrow she could go back to Elmwood, and she would never, never come back here again.
“I thought you were tired, Lily, “ Drayton said as she followed him into the parlor and asked him to pour her a brandy.
“I am. But there are things that need to be said tonight, and I intend to say them,’’ she told him firmly, taking a seat on the settee. She eyed the dark, heavy furniture and the cluttered mantel, wondering how Drayton could bear to live in such a place.
He paused in pouring her a brandy and met her eyes with an inquiring lift of his brow. “Something tells me this won’t be pleasant.” She said nothing. He gave a slight shrug and finished pouring Lily’s glass before he poured one for himself.
He offered Lily her glass, holding on to it a moment longer when she extended her hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “What do you have to say?”
Lily’s blue eyes met the question squarely. “She is your wife, Drayton.”
He seemed almost amused as he turned away and sipped at his drink. “No one is more aware of that than I, Lily.”
“She is trying very hard to be a good wife to you now.”
“Is that what she’s doing?” he tossed back doubtfully. “With all of her fancy clothing and constant primping with her hair? More likely she enjoys the way men look at her,” he muttered under his breath, turning away again, remembering the way Matt had kissed her hand. “When she ought to be home with Mandy, she’s out gallivanting in town, showing off her new gowns.”
Lily’s eyes lowered as she considered his reaction. So he had noticed that other men looked at her, and he was jealous. That was a start. “Ambrosia spends very little time away from Mandy,’’ Lily told him, almost wishing the opposite were true.” And I practically had to force her to make that one trip into town. So if you want to blame someone, then blame me.” She watched him pace the floor, his expression hard and distant. She heaved a sigh of frustration. “What exactly do you want from her, Drayton? Do you expect her to go about in sackcloth and ashes, repenting for the rest of her life?”
“I want nothing from her,” he answered sharply. His eyes met hers with resolute hardness. “Nothing at all.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I most certainly do.” He let out a long breath before he turned away again. “We had a child together, Lily. But Mandy is the only bond between us now.”
“There ought to be much more between a man and his wife. Love and intimacy are-”
“Don’t speak to me of love and intimacy, dammit!” he flung back at her. “I’m not the one who made a mockery of our vows!”
Lily waited a moment, allowing him to calm himself a bit. “Ambrosia has changed over the past months,” she told him earnestly. “And she cares very deeply for you.”
‘’That is unfortunate,’’ he returned arrogantly, ‘’because I could hardly care less about her.”
“Drayton, I-”
“I won’t discuss this any further, Lily,” he told her firmly. He drained his glass and set in on the mantel. “Now if you will excuse me, I think it’s time we both retired.’’
He was all but out of the parlor when Lily called to him. “Drayton?”
He turned back to face her, and she let out a sigh, her eyes pleading. “Promise me one thing, Drayton. Promise me that you will think about your marriage, that you will think about her...”
He almost laughed aloud at that. As if he could possibly put her out of his mind. But he had what he wanted now. He had his contract with Galbraith, and he would reap a grand profit as a result. He would still have to work hard, but that was what he wanted, too. He would have his work and his financial success, and like his father, he wouldn’t need anything or anyone else. If only it weren’t for Mandy...
‘’Good night, Lily,’’ was all Drayton said to her as he left the parlor and proceeded up the stairs.
Lily set aside her brandy and closed her eyes wearily. She wondered if time alone would ever heal the hurt in him. He was building a wall around himself, building a life Ambrosia could never hope to be a part of, and the longer he spent building that life, the more distant, the more unreachable he became. And Ambrosia...she was so lost, so hopelessly in love with him. And so afraid of swallowing her pride and reaching out for him, laying her heart bare, leaving herself open to the cruelest kind of hurt. Once, Lily would not have believed Drayton capable of that kind of cruelty. But there were so many things about Drayton now that she did not understand, so much that was hard and cold and angry. With a heavy sigh, she struggled from her chair and hobbled down the darkened hall to her room.
Chapter 46
The first day back at Elmwood Ambrosia spent with Mandy, hardly daring to let the child out of her sight. She spoke very little to anyone, and Lily did not press her since it was obvious she wanted time alone. After a few days of devoting herself entirely to Mandy, Ambrosia felt a restlessness, an impatience that she could not contain. One afternoon while Mandy was napping, she asked Debbs to saddle a horse for her. ‘’A spirited one if you please,’’ she requested, since she felt the need of a good, hard ride.
The physical exertion of riding proved a balm for her troubled mind, and she found that she had been craving such a release. With the wind pulling at her hair and the air cool against her cheeks, Ambrosia felt momentarily alive and free, just as she had felt as a child flying over the hills of Heritage on her father’s stallion. She was unhappy and confused now, and her heart was alone and troubled, just as it had been then. She could hardly bear the thought of sitting quietly and sketching anymore, for she wanted no time to think, no time to feel, no time to consider the future. She came to dread the darkness, since she seldom slept well and found nighttime the hardest to endure. Often the wee hours of the morning found Ambrosia pacing the floor of her bedroom or prowling the library, leafing through book after book without really seeing the pages at all. The quiet of night made it so much more difficult to ignore that part of herself that felt so empty, so all alone. The loneliness tore at her, a silent, brutal torture. Again and again she would remember him, his deep blue eyes; his voice low and gentle; his touch soft, tender, offering her love as no man had ever done before. And then she would remember that she had destroyed that gentleness, that love.
It was impossible for her to forget, as she came to know each room of the house, as she came to know each meadow and hill, that this was Drayton’s home. For the first time since Mandy’s birth, she actually longed to run away from this place,
from the constant reminders. But there would never be any escape, she knew. Every time she looked at Mandy’s face and saw Drayton’s deep blue eyes she would remember. Her child, her home, her dearest friend, all belonged to him as much as they did to her. They would always belong to him.
The first week of May, Lily caught a miserable cold that confined her to bed for several days. Since she stubbornly refused to see a doctor, Ambrosia busied herself finding plants and herbs for mixtures to ease the symptoms, glad to have something constructive to do. But as the time passed, she began to sit by Lily’s bedside a good portion of every day, watching the older woman with concern. The potions seemed to help a bit, and after a while the fever and sniffles disappeared. Only a persistent, racking cough lingered on and on, weakening Lily far more than she would admit. She managed to attend church services, but did not stay afterward to socialize in spite of the agreeable spring weather. Instead she immediately sought the carriage and dozed nearly all the way home.
In the following weeks, she did little more than nap through the days, getting out of bed only to dress and come to the dining room for her meals. Just that small bit of activity seemed to drain her, and Ambrosia noticed that she was not eating well for all her insistence on coming to the table. Lily had already informed Isabel and Victoria that the card games were canceled indefinitely, so there was nothing pressing on Lily’s calendar at first. But as the last few days of May drew nearer, Ambrosia fretted silently about what she ought to do. She knew full well that these were Lily’s “visiting days,” and that the visiting would be far too taxing for Lily in her present state. Finally, she convinced the older woman not to attempt the visiting because “someone just might pick up that terrible cough of yours, and then wouldn’t you feel guilty?” Ambrosia would go in her stead, she promised, and yes, she would sit and listen to Mr. Gavin’s complaints patiently, and yes, she would be sure and take Mrs. Cox an extra sweet roll or two. “And I’ll report everything back to you, cross my heart,” Ambrosia concluded solemnly.
Ambrosia Page 46