by Lisa Kleypas
Heath sent word that they would arrive in Boston around noon on Saturday, and Lucy spent the entire morning preparing herself. She was so nervous and excited that her hands were shaking, and Bess had to help her dress and arrange her hair. Her velveteen dress was a beautiful new shade of deep pink called Aurora, made with fancy scalloped sleeves and a tight-fitting basque. Her dark hair was neatly confined in shining braids that were twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck, and she smoothed back the wisps at her forehead and temples with cologne. Lucy pinched her cheeks until they were the same deep pink as her dress, and she walked back and forth to the mirror several times as she waited, too agitated to do any reading or needlework. Finally one of the maids, a girl who was barely out of her teens, knocked on the bedroom door, jumping back as Lucy flung it open.
“Are they here?”
“The carriage has just arrived, Mrs. Rayne.”
“Then let’s go downstairs. Remember to take Miss Price’s coat first, then Mr. Rayne’s.”
Lucy could feel her heart thundering as she descended, and Sowers waited until she reached the last step before he opened the door. For the first few seconds, all she registered was a small flurry of skirts and capes, and then her attention was completely focused on Heath as he walked through the doorway.
“Cinda.” He stopped as he looked at her, his mouth curving with a slow half-smile.
The time spent in the South seemed to have wrought miracles. Once again he was the dashing rascal she had remembered from the early months in Concord, with vitality in his step and laughter in his eyes. The sun had darkened his skin to copper and infused his hair with a sheen of light gold. Ah, she had forgotten how handsome he was. What was it about the South that had such a magical effect on him? The people? The sun, the climate?
“Welcome home,” she managed to say.
“How have you been?” His accent was much heavier than before, making his voice smooth and drawling. She loved the sound of it. I missed you, his gaze seemed to tell her, and the silent message caused her pulse to rise in an uneven surge.
“I’ve been fine.” She started to smile at him, when a nearby movement caught her eye, and she turned with words of welcome poised on her lips. There was a tall blond girl, slender, attractive, and unassuming. Amy. Her face was much softer than Heath’s, but there were similarities in the shape of the eyes and mouth. She was looking at Lucy with shyness and uncertainty.
There was also another woman. Lucy knew immediately who she was.
But how could it be? How could it be?
Helpless fury, hurt, outrage—that would all come later. For now, Lucy was too stunned to feel anything. She could feel her face turn pale, clean, and stark as she succumbed to numbness. That was better than anger, and far better than fear. The less Raine could see on her face, the better.
“I apologize for the lack of advance warning,” Heath said with studied casualness. “We had a last-minute addition to our entourage. Lucy, I would like you to meet Amy, my sister, and my sister-in-law, Mrs. Laraine Price.”
“Amy . . . Mrs. Price . . . I’m pleased to meet you. I am sorry for your loss,” Lucy murmured automatically, and Raine moved forward to her, her steps so smooth that the hem of her skirts seemed to glide over the floor. Slim, extraordinarily beautiful, Raine had the kind of looks and grace that made all other women feel clumsy and awkward. Her eyes were misty gray, framed with long, curling lashes that cast shadows over the gleaming purity of her skin. Light brown hair was arranged in long ringlets that brushed her shoulders. She was of medium height, but her willowy slenderness made her seem much taller.
“Heath’s wife . . .” She took Lucy’s hand in her own cool, pale one and pressed it gently. “He didn’t tell us how pretty you are. Please call me Raine, won’t you?” Lucy was surprised to feel that the other woman’s hand was trembling. Apparently Raine was nervous, or upset, or both; but she showed no other sign of it except that betraying tremor. Her face was untroubled, her smile sweet and lovely. She didn’t look anything like the woman that Amy had described in those letters to Heath. “Amy,” Raine continued, letting go of Lucy’s hand and turning to the silent girl behind her, “don’t be afraid of your new sister. Come here and thank her for her hospitality.”
Obediently Amy approached Lucy, her eyes downcast, her hands twisted together in front of her. It seemed that she was afraid of strangers, or perhaps just of Lucy. It was also obvious that she was debating on how friendly she had to be to her brother’s Yankee wife.
Suddenly Lucy forgot all about Raine, and Heath, and her own jealousy as she looked at the tall, shy girl. She felt immense sympathy for her. Amy had just gone through the loss of her brother and the desertion of her mother, and she was in a land of strangers—of Northerners. She looks very lonely. She looks afraid. I wouldn’t want to have to coo and simper over a stranger, if I were her.
“I imagine you must be very tired,” Lucy said matter-of-factly, and Amy looked up with a wary glance. Her eyes were the same shade of blue-green as Heath’s, not quite as deep-set or darkly lashed as his, but striking in their own way.
“Yes. I don’t like to travel.”
“I don’t either,” Lucy replied, while Amy’s eyes encompassed every detail of her stylish clothes. Lucy couldn’t help but notice that both Amy and Raine wore dresses that were clean and well kept, but had the look of being turned.
“Heath said you were a little thing,” Amy commented. “He said you wear slippers with heels on them all the time.”
“Amy!” The personal remark earned a reprimand from Raine.
“I do wear heeled slippers.” Lucy smiled. “All the time.”
“She is little,” Amy said to Heath, and he grinned at her.
“I told you.”
“I’m sorry,” Raine apologized to Lucy, her gray eyes touched with something akin to embarrassment. “She’s such a child.”
“I wouldn’t dare call anyone who is taller than me a child,” Lucy said, conscious of Amy’s tentative smile.
Lucy’s mind was in such turmoil that she never quite remembered what happened during the next several minutes. She remained calm and polite, and even managed another smile or two as the guests were settled in their rooms. Heath disappeared to wash up and change his clothes, and Lucy tried desperately to collect her thoughts before going to their room to talk with him. As she passed by Amy’s room, she saw through the open doorway that the girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blindly at the Rosebank print on the walls.
“Amy?” Lucy was struck by her perfect stillness. “Would you like something? Some hot tea or—”
“No. Thank you.” The girl looked at her guardedly. “This is a pretty room.” It was done in a shade of soft, pale yellow, ornamented with pastel flowers.
“I’m glad it pleases you.” Slowly Lucy walked into the room and over to the window, wondering if Amy welcomed her company or thought of it as an intrusion. “I hope it isn’t too warm in here for you . . . Heath prefers every room in the house overheated and stuffy. If you’d like some fresh air, the window—”
“No. This is fine,” Amy said with a little shiver. “It’s cold in Massachusetts.”
“You’ll like it more in the springtime.”
“Heath says he’s going to find a school for me up here.”
“Are you . . . unhappy about the idea?”
Amy regarded her with unblinking turquoise eyes. “I don’t mind it. I like to read. I’d like to take classes.”
That was encouraging. “Some of the best young ladies’ academies in the country are in Massachusetts,” Lucy said warmly. “They’ve even founded a female seminary in Wellesley . . . in a few years, if you wanted to continue your education, you could go to college just like men do.”
The last four words seemed to attract Amy’s close attention. “Are you a feminist?” she asked, clearly intrigued by the idea.
“In some ways, maybe,” Lucy admitted. “I certainly think that women should be
allowed to study and learn things. I don’t think we should be treated as if our minds are inferior.”
“Mama and Raine say that a man won’t marry a woman if he thinks she’s smarter than he is.”
“That certainly indicates something about your brother,” Lucy muttered.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing, Amy. I was just thinking of going to talk with Heath.”
“About Raine?”
The perception in those steady blue-green eyes reminded Lucy uncannily of the way Heath looked at her sometimes. “About many things,” she replied. “I haven’t talked to him in two weeks. We have catching up to do.”
“He didn’t know Raine was coming along,” Amy said, undeceived by Lucy’s evasiveness. “Neither of us did. On the morning we were to leave, she said that her people in Goochland County wouldn’t take her in. And she doesn’t have any kin left in Henrico County.”
And now she’s right where she wants to be, Lucy thought with a stab of fury. How easily men were taken in by women! A few tears, some sweet Southern helplessness. Oh, it must have been ridiculously easy for Raine. And here she, Lucy, was, harboring the woman under her own roof! It had the makings of a fine farce.
“Why don’t you take a little nap?” Lucy suggested calmly, noticing the faint gray shadows underneath the girl’s eyes. “I’ll come and wake you in time to freshen up for dinner.”
Amy nodded gravely, watching Lucy’s every movement as she left the room and closed the door.
Heath was waiting in the bedroom for her, dressed in clean clothes, his freshly washed hair shining and damp. The new bronzed darkness of his skin was startling against the whiteness of his shirt. They stared at each other, unsmiling, and invisible signals seemed to race back and forth between them. He was tense. She was furious. He was prepared to be stubborn, and so was she. Underlying everything was an overwhelming surfeit of frustration. They hadn’t made love in weeks, and all the channels of communication that had once been open were now sealed shut. Want and anger combined to form a boundary between them.
“I would like to talk downstairs in the library.” Lucy’s voice was taut. “There is less chance that we’ll be overheard there.”
“You must be planning to shout,” he said dryly.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. But if you won’t listen to me any other way, then I will shout. And if you decide to treat this lightly and laugh at me, then I will walk out that door, and I wouldn’t come back until she is gone from this house.”
All humor left his expression. “I’ll tread lightly on your temper, Mrs. Rayne . . . if you’ll do the same for mine. Shall we move the discussion down to the library?”
The beginnings of sunset filled the library with a pinkish light that mingled with the glow of the lamps. Heath poured himself a drink, noticed Lucy’s extended hand, and with a quirk of his mouth, he handed her a watered-down version of the same. Lucy welcomed the warm, steadying effect of the spirits, and she took one sip after another until her teeth no longer chattered against the rim of the glass. She closed her eyes and waited for the drink to sear its way down to her stomach, and then she looked at him with an indescribable mixture of emotions gleaming in her eyes.
“How could you bring her here?”
“I would have warned you that she was coming with us if I’d had a chance. But the morning we were leaving—”
“I heard about her problems with her family from Amy,” Lucy said. “It’s just too bad. I have a lot in common with Raine’s relatives—I don’t want her living with me, either.”
Heath tilted his head back and downed the last swallow of whiskey, the movement replete with masculine grace. Then his eyes locked with hers in an intense stare. “She’s not going to be staying with us for long. When Victoria left for England, she wanted Amy and Raine to go with her. Victoria has family there that would take them in. But they both refused. Amy knew that I’d come and get her. And Raine . . . well, I guess she just didn’t want to move to another country, but she didn’t give it much thought beyond that.”
Lucy could have strangled him. She gave it plenty of thought. Raine knew exactly what she was doing—she knew she’d see you again. She wants to see if she can get you back, you idiot!
“But now,” Heath continued, “Raine is thinking seriously about England. She’s going to stay a few days until we get Amy settled somewhere, and then she’ll leave to join Victoria.”
“Why didn’t Raine just stay in the South until she made up her mind?”
“She had no place to stay. And I thought it was better for Amy’s sake that she accompany us up here. You and I are strangers to Amy, and Raine’s the only familiar—”
“Oh, spare me this,” Lucy interrupted, whirling around and going to the window. “It wasn’t for Amy’s good that you brought Raine here. And you could have seen that Raine had the means to stay in a hotel for a few days.”
“Ah, that would certainly be the gentlemanly thing to do. Leave a young, recently bereaved widow alone in a hotel—”
“And we both know you didn’t bring her here because you’re such a damned gentleman, either.”
“Then tell me why we think I brought her here,” he said, in tones dripping with sweetness.
Lucy pressed her forehead against the cool frostiness of the windowpane, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “When you were ill with fever . . .”she began, and the room became deadly quiet, “you seemed to think you were living in the past, in the times just before the war and during it. You talked on and off about the fighting, about your parents, your friends . . . but most of all . . . you talked about her. Raine.” She gave a strangled laugh. “I’m sick of that name, I’ve heard it so much. You begged her not to marry Clay. You talked about how beautiful she was . . . you said . . . that you . . . loved her.” Slowly she turned around. Heath’s face was carefully blank, like that of a statue. “Why didn’t you ever mention her to me before that?” she asked in a soft, thin voice.
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“What happened? Why did she marry Clay?”
“Because he was a Price. A legitimate Price. The Prices were a large and influential family before the war. I was nothing but a by-blow. Raine and I came to care for each other, but I made the mistake of introducing her to my half brother . . . it didn’t take long for them to become engaged.”
Oh, God. If he could forgive Raine for that, he must care for her deeply. Lucy writhed inwardly at the injustice of it. How could he still want Raine after the way she had treated him?
“You don’t seem to blame her for choosing Clay over you,” she said sharply.
“At the time I did blame her.” A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “Hell, yes, I blamed her, cursed her, thought up hundreds of ways to get back at her. But the feelings have changed over time. I understand why she did it now. I never realized how powerless, how dependent women are . . . Raine made the only decision she could have. She didn’t have the freedom to choose any other way. It was obvious that Clay, with his money and his name, was able to provide for her in a way that I couldn’t have.”
“You’re making excuses for her. She didn’t have to choose Clay. His name, his money, his family, shouldn’t have made any difference—”
“I didn’t think you’d be the kind to blame her for what she did. You would have married Daniel for the very same reasons she married Clay.”
“That’s not true!” Lucy gasped in surprise. “There’s a big difference. I loved Daniel.”
“Did you?” Heath shook his head slowly and smiled in a tired way. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I finally understood everything while I was in prison camp. I learned a lot of things on Governor’s Island, especially about what it’s like to be helpless. I had no control over what happened to me. I accepted what was given to me, took as much advantage as I could out of every situation, but ultimately I was helpless. For the first time in my life. Well, so was Raine. So were you.”
&nbs
p; “I’m not helpless anymore!”
“No, you’re not. You’ve changed. But Raine hasn’t. She’ll always be helpless.”
“Why are you the one who has to protect her? Are you planning to provide for her the rest of her life?”
“No. She’ll find someone to take care of her soon. It’s what she’s best at. All I’m asking is that you put up with her for the next few days. It’s not forever.”
“I assume that you’ll be going to work as usual?” As Heath nodded curtly, Lucy couldn’t help the sneer that rose to her lips. “That’s what I thought. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with Amy and Raine? What should I say to Raine? How can I look at her and carry on a civil conversation when all I can remember is how you raved in a delirium about her for two days straight?”
“Remember this,” he said with stinging softness. “There is nothing between Raine and me. There hasn’t been for years. Remember that she’s been through hell during the last few years. Remember that while you were sitting next to the candy jar in your father’s store and flirting with the customers, she was afraid of Yankees burning the house down over her head, of being raped, of being killed, of starving. She’s been through the death of her husband, and she’s seen her friends and neighbors nearly kill each other over the Reconstruction issues that you like to discuss over coffee and dessert now and then. When you start feeling sorry for yourself, remember that.”
“How lucky she is,” Lucy replied, her eyes cold, “to have you to defend her from me.”
Heath swore and raked his hand through his hair. He turned abruptly and poured himself another drink.
“Maybe it won’t be difficult to find something to talk with her about. She and I have so much in common. Don’t we, Heath?” She stared at him until he set his glass down and met her gaze squarely.