The Arrangement (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 10)

by Christine Pope

“That was wrong of me.”

  “It certainly was not,” she said at once in some indignation. “How could you not tell how much I wanted you to do that very thing?”

  “Even if it was something you wished for, I should have controlled myself. I am…not in a position where I should be taking such liberties with a woman.”

  “And what position is that, precisely?” Lorena asked. “For you are a widower, and I am a widow. We are not a pair of young innocents who do not know what they are doing, and we don’t have any other entanglements that would preclude indulging in such ‘liberties.’” She stopped there and tapped the ground with the toe of her boot as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Or at least, I know I do not. Perhaps you are dallying with me, Mr. Wilcox, while you are promised elsewhere. I am a stranger here, and do not know anything of your personal life.”

  “No, there are no ‘entanglements,’” he said. His brows drew together, but he looked away from her as he added, “I wish it were something so simple. All I can tell you is that there are circumstances involved here which make what I have just done truly reprehensible. Indeed, I should never have approached you at the hotel restaurant in the first place.”

  “Then why did you?” Anger warred with curiosity within her, but she truly did want to know the answer.

  “Because….” Jeremiah stopped there. This time he did look directly at her, and despite her own annoyance, Lorena couldn’t help but be moved by the anguish she saw in his expression. “Because I was lonely.”

  The anger fled as quickly as it had come. She went to him then and took his hands in hers. They both wore gloves, but she could still feel the strength of the fingers pressed against hers, the warmth of his skin. “As am I. So what is wrong about two lonely people reaching out to one another?”

  “I — ” His fingers gripped hers more firmly, but he held her gaze, eyes shadowed with worry and doubt. “I am not free to do as other men might. If I were, I would not have stopped myself just now. I would be telling you not to take the train tomorrow, to stay with me here in Flagstaff. But because I am not free, I can only beg you to go. I would never forgive myself if something should happen to you.”

  “What would happen?” she said. “For if you think I care about ruining my reputation, I can tell you that I most certainly do not. Especially,” she added frankly, “because I do not think that anything which happens between us here in Flagstaff would ever travel all the way back to New York to trouble me.”

  “No, that is not what I meant,” he told her. “I am speaking of something far more dire than a bit of injurious gossip.”

  “Then what?”

  He let go of her hands. “I cannot tell you that.”

  The anger was back. Lorena planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Well, if you are going to turn mysterious on me, then I fear you leave me with no recourse.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Recourse?”

  “Didn’t you know that very few women can resist a mystery, Mr. Wilcox?” She retrieved her parasol from where she’d rested it against the fallen log, then turned back toward him. “So I believe I will need to stay in Flagstaff until I have solved this one. Luckily, it is easy enough to change one’s rail ticket when traveling first class. Have a very good afternoon.”

  With that parting shot, she turned away from him and strode off toward the park, praying she wouldn’t turn an ankle on the uneven ground. At the same time, she wondered if he would follow, would try to argue with her about the folly of remaining here rather than continuing with her journey to San Francisco.

  However, he did not. Within a few moments, she was back on the path that wound through Wheeler Park, and she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

  She had just made her gambit. Now she would have to see how Jeremiah responded. Check…or checkmate?

  6

  Damnation. He had almost gone after her, but some instinct told him it was better to let her get away. After all, the last thing he wanted was to be seen arguing with Lorena Simms in the middle of the park. The story would spread like wildfire, he knew. Bad enough that he had danced with her, gone walking with her. Those two activities spoke of a certain level of intimacy already. But to have a very public dispute? That would most certainly lead the town busybodies to believe there was something going on here, despite her airy comment that she didn’t need to worry about gossip because she wasn’t back in New York.

  And of course there wasn’t anything going on. A single kiss couldn’t qualify as anything more than what it was, and yet he knew some people would consider it to be very damning evidence.

  To tell the truth, Jeremiah considered it damning enough as well. Just the memory of her soft, sweet lips pressed against his was enough to set his body throbbing with desire. He had pushed that side of himself away for so many years that now it had awoken with a raging vengeance. His own fault, of course. He knew better. Playing with fire inevitably led to getting burned.

  He thought he could catch just a glimpse of her disappearing down San Francisco Street, a dark wine-colored blur moving as quickly as her heavy skirts and high heels would let her. Even at this distance, though, he thought he saw the indignant stiffness of her spine, the angry set of her shoulders. He had upset her dreadfully, he knew.

  However, he also knew that he didn’t dare tell her why he had pulled away, why he had informed her that this must not progress any further. Perhaps she deserved the truth, after that kiss they had shared, but the problem was, his truth was not only his own, but the truth of his family. They had kept their secret this long. He didn’t dare risk everything by telling Lorena Simms that he was a warlock, that he came from a long line of powerful witches.

  She would think him mad — if she didn’t burst into laughter on the spot at such a ridiculous notion.

  Frowning, he turned off toward Leroux Street and his own home. He would have to come up with a way to make sure Lorena got on that train tomorrow, no matter what she might have threatened to do otherwise. The only problem was, short of bringing his own magical powers to bear on the situation, he couldn’t think of how he might manage to accomplish such a thing. Lorena Simms was a grown woman with her own wealth and her own position in society. And she had already amply proven that she was not the sort of person to intimidate easily.

  Not that he wanted to intimidate her. No, what he really wanted was to pull her into his arms again, to crush her mouth against his, to work his fingers down that row of buttons on the front of her bodice so he might see the creamy skin the proper garments hid.

  Damn. He pulled in a ragged breath, glad that at least this section of Leroux Street was unoccupied at the moment, so no one might see his discomfiture. He knew that he must gather his thoughts and regain his composure before he went to fetch Jacob from his Aunt Emma’s home. If his son didn’t notice something wrong, Jeremiah thought grimly, then Emma undoubtedly would.

  The sounds of children shouting and laughing greeted him as he went up the front steps. Those noises emanated from the back of the house, so he thought they must be in the yard, getting in their last bit of play time before they must sit down to Sunday supper with their families. He and Jacob would be staying, because Emma had insisted. Very rarely did he and his son dine alone in their own home. Indeed, some days he wondered why he bothered to keep a cook at all, except that she did make most excellent breakfasts, and an apple tart that Jacob liked very much.

  Jeremiah did not bother to knock, but let himself in. Emma was expecting him, and had told him to come inside when he was finished with his afternoon constitutional. What she had thought about him walking with Lorena in the park, he didn’t quite know, although he had a feeling he would soon find out.

  “Uncle Jeremiah!” called his niece Susan as she ran down the hallway to see him, her long, dark curls bouncing against her back.

  He held out his arms, and she jumped into them so he might swing her around and around. None of the other children dare
d to take such liberties with their forbidding uncle, but Jeremiah had a soft spot for Susan, probably because she reminded him so much of his own sister when she was a little girl of ten.

  “And where is your mother?” he asked, after he had safely set Susan down on the Persian rug in the foyer.

  “In the kitchen,” his niece replied. “She’s overseeing the biscuits, since she says Lucille can never get them quite right. Do you want me to take you?”

  “Lead on,” Jeremiah replied, holding back a smile. Susan did enjoy making herself invaluable.

  As the little girl had said, Emma was in the kitchen, cutting out biscuits and setting them on a baking pan as Lucille stirred something savory-smelling on the stove.

  “This looks to be quite a feast.”

  Emma looked up from her biscuits and shook her head. “Not really. But it is Sunday dinner.” Frowning slightly, she glanced out the window, as if to determine the angle of the sun, then looked back at her brother. “Done so soon with your walk?”

  “Mrs. Simms has gone back to her hotel.” There, that was noncommittal enough. The comment could not even be said to be untrue.

  However, his sister appeared rather skeptical, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Is that so?” She looked as if she meant to say more, but then glanced at her daughter, who stood in the doorway, eyes bright as she listened to the conversation. Instead, Emma directed her next words to the girl, saying, “Susan, go tell the boys that they need to stop playing and come in and get washed up. And if Wyatt is still here, he needs to get home immediately. Lida told him he had to be home nearly half an hour ago.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Susan said obediently, and trotted out.

  Clearly, Emma wasn’t done there. She turned next to the cook and went on, “Lucille, I’ll keep an eye on that sauce. If you would be so good as to take that butter dish out to the dining room? Bridget is still polishing the silver.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  Lucille left as well, not quite as light on her feet as Susan had been. As soon as she was alone with her brother, Emma tilted her head and sent an inquiring glance in Jeremiah’s direction. “What happened? You’re looking very thunderous.”

  “Am I?” Jeremiah responded, amused despite the prickle of irritation he felt. Out of all his family, Emma was the one who always seemed able to read him, despite his best efforts to conceal what he was thinking.

  “Like a storm cloud. So may I assume that the walk with Mrs. Simms did not go quite as expected?”

  “Difficult to say, since I am not quite sure whether I actually expected anything at all. But let us say that she is a woman of her own opinions.”

  Emma set the biscuit cutter aside and crossed her arms. “And what precisely was her opinion today?”

  “That apparently I am a mystery, one she intends to solve…even if that means staying in Flagstaff indefinitely.”

  “Oh, dear.” His sister took up the linen cloth that had been lying on the countertop and wiped a dusting of flour off her hands. “What on earth did you say to set her off?”

  “I don’t believe it’s precisely what I said.”

  Another lift of the eyebrows. “Jeremiah — ”

  “I did not intend to do anything. You must take my word on that.”

  “And we all know about good intentions.”

  Yes, he most certainly did. Unfortunately, it seemed that no matter what he intended in a certain circumstance, something always went awry. “She is an unexpected woman.”

  “Apparently.” Emma set down the cloth she held and turned back toward him, arms crossed. “Not like anyone else of your recent acquaintance, that much is certain. People have been talking.”

  “People always talk,” Jeremiah said wearily. “We possess great powers, but they are certainly not enough to stop the gossips.”

  “No.” His sister’s expression softened, and she went to him and laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t you think I know how much it hurts you, to have to hold yourself to the side and watch the rest of us with our families, see our happiness and know that you will never know the same thing? It hurts me as well. But,” she continued, when Jeremiah was about to open his mouth to speak, to tell her that she should not take on the burden of his guilt, “I must say that I cannot quite understand why you would take these risks with Lorena Simms. Yes, she is beautiful, but she is not the first beautiful woman to have passed through Flagstaff the past few years. And yet she is the only one you have approached.”

  “True,” he agreed. “All I can say is that there is something about her, something which draws me in, even though I know in my heart I should stay away. I thought I could spend a small amount of time with her and let her go, but now….”

  “Now?”

  “What does it matter? Even if I were able to easily watch her walk away, now she has promised — or threatened, take it as you like — to stay so she might find the real reason behind my reticence. And I am not sure what to do next. The last thing I want is to cause her any harm.”

  For a moment, Emma was silent, expression troubled as she appeared to contemplate her brother’s words. At last she said, “No, you would never want that. The real question is, what are you willing to risk to save her from being hurt?”

  And to that particular query, Jeremiah had no answer.

  To be safe, Lorena took her supper in her room that night. She really did not believe that Jeremiah Wilcox would seek her out in the dining room of the Hotel San Francisco and cause a scene there…but why take the risk?

  Besides, she knew she needed to create some distance between them. Madness that she should still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, could still seem to breathe in the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to his clothing. Being held in his arms was truly the most intoxicating thing she had ever experienced. But that intoxication made it difficult for her to think clearly, and that was one thing she knew she must do.

  If it was only that he was not attracted to her, then he would not have kissed her in the first place. No, the problem was not the lack of an attraction, but rather the opposite. He had said that a black cloud followed him. Well, she could see how he might believe that, with the deaths of four wives lying heavy on him. Still, what could such a thing be except a spectacular run of bad luck?

  Unless he is some kind of murderer, like in those lurid novels your cousin Sylvia reads, Lorena thought then. But if that were truly the case, then one would think he would already be on the hunt for a fifth wife to add to the tally, so he might continue to pursue his grotesque passion.

  Of course she did not truly believe that. She had seen the anguish in his eyes, heard the pain in his voice. Perhaps it was possible that he was a very good actor, but somehow she didn’t think so. There was something else behind his words, behind his pain, even if she couldn’t begin to guess what it might be.

  Ferreting out the true reason why he didn’t wish to pursue matters with her might be difficult, however. Yes, Josie had done a very good job of uncovering some basic background information about the man, but the sort of thing Lorena wanted to know most likely wasn’t a matter he would discuss easily with his neighbors, or the people with whom he did business.

  Perhaps his family members knew the true reason for his reticence, but of course they would not divulge those secrets to an interloper such as she. Not even Emma, although she had seemed kind enough when they met at the dance.

  But perhaps if Lorena was to go to Jeremiah’s sister, and tell her that she was not trying to make her brother’s life difficult, and was only attempting to understand why he would extend such overtures and then rebuff her immediately afterward…. That might work. Perhaps. Lorena had to hope that Emma might find some compassion in her heart for another woman’s pain, even if her brother was the one who caused it in the first place.

  So Lorena resolved to do that very thing. She did not sleep well that night, mind and body restless, but she awoke the next morning with her determination intact. Josie had managed
to find out that all of Emma’s children were of an age to attend school, so it seemed simple enough to wait until the reasonable hour of ten-thirty in the morning, and then head over to Leroux Street to request an audience with her. True, Lorena didn’t know the house number, but she did know which house was Jeremiah’s, and the only one on that side of the street that didn’t have a sign out front saying “Wilcox” declared itself as the Garnett residence instead.

  Even so, Lorena’s heart beat a little more quickly as she climbed the steps. She knocked as soon as she stood in front of the door, so she might not lose her nerve. Only a moment later, the knock was answered when the door opened and a girl in her late teens, clearly the maid, peered out.

  “Good morning,” Lorena said, glad that at least she must look respectable enough, in her dark blue plaid walking-out suit and jaunty velvet hat with its ivory plumes. “I am Mrs. Simms. I was hoping that perhaps I could speak with Mrs. Garnett?”

  “Just a moment, ma’am,” the girl said in an obviously Irish accent. She bobbed a quick curtsey and shut the door.

  Since Lorena hadn’t expected to be invited inside immediately, she was not too surprised by this behavior. Within a few moments, the door opened again, only this time it was Emma Garnett who looked out. She wore a pleasant smile, but Lorena could still detect something guarded about her expression. “Mrs. Simms, do come inside.”

  Relieved that she would not be turned away on the doorstep, Lorena entered the foyer and noted its decorations with some approval — the Persian rug on the floor, the plant stand of marble and mahogany, crowned by a very fine specimen of a Boston fern. Indeed, her surroundings would not have been too terribly out of place back in New York.

  “I sent Bridget to fetch some tea,” Emma said. “Why don’t we go sit in the front parlor?”

  “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  Lorena followed Emma into the parlor, which was furnished in the same quiet elegance as the foyer, with matching settees of silk striped in gold and green, and dark green velvet curtains at the windows, now tied back with gold silk cords. Bright morning sunlight filtered through the lace draperies that hung underneath the velvet ones. Lorena took a seat on the one settee that would have her back to the window, and watched as Emma gracefully lowered herself onto the settee facing her. Although she must have been up early getting her children off to school, the other woman’s appearance was impeccable, from the heavy braided knot of hair at the back of her head to her elegant gown of dark green wool challis.