by Sara Orwig
“Oh, Badru,” Claire said, reaching out to squeeze his arm impulsively. “I’m so sorry!”
“Thank you,” he said, looking beyond her. “They’ve taken them up north and sometimes they let me keep them, but I know they need their grandmother.”
“Then you must know how Mr. Wenger felt seeing his grandson for the first time.”
“Yes, ma’am. I can understand, but Mr. O’Brien is paying me to keep Mr. Wenger away and to tell him when Mr. Wenger’s been around.”
“Just this once, please, Badru. We don’t need bloodshed over a man saying hello for the first time to his grandson.”
Badru stared at her a moment and then nodded. “Yes, ma’am, but I’ve never gone back on my word before in my life.”
“This is for a good reason. It’s for Mr. O’Brien’s good as well. And if he asks you directly, then go ahead and tell him. I don’t want you to lie to him.”
“Yes, ma’am. But it’s about the same not to tell him.”
That night after dinner, Fortune took Michael out to look at a new horse he had purchased, and when they returned he read to Michael. When she finally tucked Michael in to bed and returned to the parlor, Fortune was working on some ledgers. She gazed at the back of his head, torn between telling him what had happened and waiting. It was a hot night, the windows wide open. Fortune had shed his shirt, and his black hair curled damply on his neck. When she spotted the scars lacing his back, she clamped her lips, deciding to think about it more before telling Fortune about Trevor Wenger.
After quietly sewing, she finally stood up. “Fortune, I’m going to bed.”
He tossed down the pen and stretched, standing up and crossing the room to her. “I have some figuring I need to get done before tomorrow,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms. He had a fine sheen of perspiration on his shoulders and brow. “I’ll be upstairs in just a little while,” he said, his voice becoming deeper as he leaned down to give her a lingering kiss. “I’ll be upstairs soon,” he repeated when he raised his head. She longed to stand on tiptoe, wind her arms around his neck, and pull his head down to kiss him. Instead she nodded and turned away to go upstairs.
Feeling restless, she had started to pull on her cotton nightgown when on impulse she changed to the sheer batiste that she had just finished making. She brushed out her hair and climbed into bed, expectantly staring into the darkness. Time passed and she became drowsy, trying to wait until he appeared.
When his silhouette finally darkened the doorway, she rose slightly on her elbows. “You worked late.”
“There are some changes on the plans for the mill. I needed to go over the accounts before I make more purchases.” He crossed the room silently in bare feet and stretched out on the bed beside her.
“How’s the mill progressing?”
“We’re about ready to begin business and I’m hiring men. So much of my day is taken up talking to men,” he said. His deep voice was a pleasant sound in the darkness so close to her. She turned on her side to face him, propping her head on her elbow. He turned his head to look at her.
“How many men have you hired now?”
“I have almost twenty, and they all have experience. Every day lost before we open, I feel like we’re missing business we could have. Atlanta is getting northern money, and it’s going to grow and prosper.”
“You still think you’ll be accepted by Georgians even though you fought for the Union?”
“Yes. At the ball this weekend we’ll meet a lot of people who’ve lived in Atlanta all their lives. And there will be new people as well.”
As her gaze ran over his chest and flat stomach, sliding lower, she licked her lips. Turning on his side, he watched her while he touched a lock of her hair, his hand drifting across her nape. The slight tug on her scalp and caress across her neck made her feel faint, and she realized how responsive she was becoming to him. She tried to ignore his hands moving on her shoulder, sliding to the neck of her gown.
“Fortune, I want you to think some more about allowing Michael to at least talk to his grandfather.”
“You have on a new nightgown,” Fortune said in a husky voice. His hand drifted lightly onto her throat, tugging free ribbons tied in a bow.
“Yes, I do. Did you hear me?” she asked, struggling to concentrate. “I think Michael should meet his grandfather.”
Fortune leaned down to kiss her throat lightly, pushing open her gown. “Never,” he whispered, kissing her flesh, unbuttoning the neck more and shoving aside the gown to touch her nipple with his tongue.
She gasped, her hands going to his shoulders as she turned to face him. All thoughts of Trevor Wenger were banished. Fortune’s body stretched out beside hers, his leg thrown over hers while he kissed her. Pressed close against him, she felt his hard arousal. He shifted her, his hand moving between her legs, and she moaned softly with pleasure.
Her body burned with a desperate need for him. She wanted to reach for his trousers, to unbutton them and touch him, but she held back, feeling it would be too forward, trying to follow his lead.
Finally he groaned and rolled out of bed, moving away from her. “Go to sleep, Claire,” he said, leaving the room swiftly.
She ached, her body ready for love, wanting him. She sat up and tugged off her nightgown, her heated flesh damp. She balled up the gown and fanned herself with it, certain she wouldn’t see Fortune the rest of the night. She knew he was trying to get her ready for seduction, and she wondered if he had any idea how well he had succeeded. How long would he continue this sweet torment that left her hot and aching and wanting him, that made her think about him all day to the point of distraction?
She wiped her damp brow, shook out the gown, and pulled it on again. Only when she was hovering on the edge of sleep did she remember she had gotten nowhere with her question about Michael and Trevor Wenger.
Friday came, and she felt an expectancy that she knew had been brought on by Fortune’s attention all week. He had brought her to a quivering peak where the slightest caress made her gasp with awareness. The prospect of going with him to a ball tonight, of being in his arms and dancing all evening, made her giddy with eagerness.
She undressed and bathed, drying and sitting down in a wrapper to do her hair. She couldn’t fasten it up as well as Sophia and Chantal had, but finally she had it parted in the center, and pulled high on the back of her head to fall in curls down over her back. A half-dozen small white gardenias were pinned in her hair, their fragrance faint and sweet.
She crossed the room to the bed, where her dress was laid out in readiness. With awe she ran her fingertips over the deep blue silk dress that Fortune had had made for her. It was an exquisite dress that must have cost dearly, the most beautiful dress she had ever owned, other than the satin wedding dress.
She donned silken underdrawers, her corset, a crinoline, a sheer batiste chemise. Finally she lifted the dress over her head and carefully lowered it. As it slid over her skin, the silk was a cool caress. She smoothed it and looked at her reflection in the mirror, studying her appearance.
Satisfied, she left the room, finding Michael in his room, where Penthea was reading a story to him. He sat beside her, turning pages with his small hands, and when Claire crossed the room, he looked up.
“You look pretty, Mama. And you smell pretty.”
“Thank you, Michael.”
“You do look pretty, Mrs. O’Brien,” Penthea said. “I’ll see Michael gets to bed on time.”
“Fine. Do you know where Papa is?”
“He’s downstairs. He told me good night,” Michael answered, tapping his finger on the book. “Can we keep reading?”
Claire brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Good night. Be a good boy. Good night, Penthea.”
She left them, her anticipation mounting as she descended the stairs. Her skirt and crinoline rustled with faint swishes. She went down the hall to the back parlor and found Fortune bent over the desk, looking at papers.
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��I’m ready,” she said quietly, wondering if he wished he could stay home and work.
His gaze started at her toes and lifted slowly upward. His obvious approval and pleasure made her pulse race almost as much as the sight of him in a ruffled white silk shirt, a black cravat, and black coat and trousers. When he was dressed up, his eyes seemed more blue and distinct than ever.
With a scrape of the chair he stood and crossed the room to her. “You look beautiful, Claire. I feel fortunate.”
“No more than I do.”
Solemnly he trailed his fingers along her cheek, and she saw the moment he thought of Marilee and moved away. He crossed the room to a table to pick up a box. “Turn around. I bought something for you.”
She turned and felt the warmth of his body as he moved close behind her. He trailed a kiss across her nape, and she closed her eyes. His arms rose and as she felt them brush against her shoulders lightly, she realized how sensitized she had come to him, until the slightest brush or contact made her tingle with awareness.
She looked down as he lifted a necklace over her head and placed it against her bare skin while he fastened it behind her head. He brushed another kiss across her neck in a feathery touch that lingered. “This is for you,” he said.
Stunned, she looked down at a magnificent setting of diamonds sparkling in brilliant contrast against the deep blue of sapphires. “Fortune, what did this cost!” She spun around, and saw the amusement in his gaze.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lord, Claire, I think the only thing that would make you gasp with pleasure is for me to tell you I’ve put a deposit into your savings account,” he said dryly.
“No, that isn’t what would make me gasp with pleasure,” she answered in a breathless, throaty voice. His brows drew together as he studied her, his expression becoming solemn.
“You know what does,” she said more shyly.
“Yes, I do. But beyond that—most women would be pleased over this bauble. Instead you’re concerned about the cost.”
“It’s so expensive! And it’s beautiful!”
“I want my wife to be dressed as well as any other woman at this party,” he said, picking up a box with a velvet lining and holding it out. “I’ll let you put these on.”
She looked at sapphire and diamond matching earbobs, touching the plain gold hoops she had worn for uncounted years. “Fortune, these are magnificent!” Impulsively she stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly.
Instantly his arm wrapped around her, holding her close as his lips pressed against hers, opening hers. His tongue entered her mouth, making her forget all about the necklace or the ball. She slid her hand onto his shoulders. He kissed her until her heart was pounding, and when he released her he looked down at her with a hungry gaze that made her tremble as much as his kiss had. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”
She smiled at him and touched his jaw. “No, I won’t, but I’ll remember all night that you told me so.”
He released her and returned to the desk to close his ledgers. Stepping in front of an oval mirror, she removed her old earbobs and replaced them with the new ones. The diamonds sparkled in the light, accented by the deep blue of the sapphires. Amazed that he would buy her such a lavish gift, she glanced in the mirror at him. As if she had spoken, he turned around. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” she answered, looking at the necklace a last time and turning to take his proffered arm. “Fortune, you must dance with me a few times at first to make certain I don’t do something awkward. And Alaric has promised to dance with me.”
Fortune laughed. “It is certain Alaric will dance with you. He’d like to take you away from me!”
“That’s not so,” she protested as they left the house. “He’s just a very good friend.”
“Oh, yes, he’s a good friend, but he would take you to bed if he could.”
“Fortune!” She gasped with shock, wondering if he was teasing.
As his hands closed around her waist, he remarked, “You’re as light as Michael.”
“Hardly. But I’m lighter than the iron you lift at work.”
He chuckled. “I’m not lifting any iron.” He swung her into the buggy and went around to climb up beside her and take the reins. As they moved down the drive, she touched the necklace. He glanced at her. “Alaric is half in love with you.”
She laughed. “I think he is half in love with most of the women in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta has beautiful women and yes, you’re right. Alaric has never really been deeply in love. I hope I’m around to see that happen.”
“You have that tone you use when you talk of revenge. Fortune, you have a streak in you—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“Go ahead and say it,” he said lightly, turning the corner.
“Not tonight. This is my very first dance, my first adult party. I won’t spoil it with any words that aren’t joyful.”
Fortune reached over to take her hand and give it a squeeze. He spread her fingers on his thigh. “Your first dance and first party. We’ll have to make it special.”
“It’s very special already.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, placing his hand over hers.
At length he slowed the horses and stopped in front of a three-story Victorian mansion painted a pale blue. Lights blazed from the open windows and doors, and she could hear musicians playing a waltz. A burst of panic swept over her.
“Oh, Fortune, suppose I step on people’s toes and do things I shouldn’t? I don’t know anything about society.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Not you, Claire. I didn’t see you show this much fear the first night I caught up with you and Michael.”
“That’s different. Then Michael was involved. Besides, I could fight you. I can’t fight these people, I have to be accepted by them.”
“You will be, I promise you.” He tugged on the reins as a groomsman came forward. Fortune climbed down and came around the buggy to get her.
He linked her arm through his, and they walked up broad steps across a wide veranda. Claire took a deep breath, glancing up at her husband, praying that she would please him tonight.
Chapter 19
Garlands of sweet-scented flowers and massive bouquets of roses decorated the rooms. A white-coated butler came forward to greet them and take Fortune’s beaver hat. The house was filled with people, men in black or gray evening coats, women in a rainbow of elegant silk and satin dresses. Claire felt out of place, uncertain what to do, yet Fortune looked as at ease as he did stretched on the floor reading to Michael. A stocky man with a thick black beard and curly black hair came toward them. He smiled at her and offered his hand to Fortune.
“Fortune, I’m so glad you could come.”
“Elwood, this is my wife, Claire. Claire, this is Elwood Meadows.”
“Happy to meet you,” he said, smiling broadly. He stroked his beard as he looked around. “Let me take you around. I have to warn you, Fortune, one of your competitors is here, Clarence Hoagland, who works at Wenger Ironworks. So no brawling, do you hear?”
Fortune chuckled and cast Claire an ironic look she couldn’t decipher.
“Lenore, come meet Fortune O’Brien and his wife,” he said to a short blond woman who gazed up with sparkling brown eyes as introductions were made. Soon Lenore took Claire to meet other women guests, and she was separated from Fortune for the next half hour. Standing in a cluster of women in an elegant parlor, Claire attempted to memorize their names. A tall blonde named Penelope Gillman stood next to her, and Claire listened while Penelope told everyone abut a new shipment of grosgrain and moiré that had arrived in an Atlanta store. The room was filled with guests, music coming from the ballroom, the buzz of conversation mixing with the sounds of violins.
“There you are,” came a deep voice behind her. Claire turned to see Alaric approaching. His blond hair was neatly combed, and he wore a gray coat and black trousers, a ruffled white silk shirt and white cravat. In short
, he looked almost as dashing as Fortune. She smiled at him, seeing him give her a swift appraisal. “Penelope,” he said in greeting, brushing the blonde’s cheek with a quick kiss.
“Excuse us,” he said, drawing Claire out of the circle.
She laughed. “Alaric, you shouldn’t take me away from them. You’ll start gossip.”
“Nonsense. Everyone who knows me or Fortune knows that we’re the closest of friends. Besides, I’ve been waiting for hours. May I have this dance?”
“Yes, you may,” she answered, smiling up at him, “but I’ll warn you, it’s my first real dance. You’re kind to dance with me.”
“Kind? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said as he led her through the crowd into the ballroom. “If it weren’t for Michael, I’d take you away from Fortune. You’re wasting yourself on him.”
“No, I’m not. He’s very good to me.”
“Claire, as he has told me time and again, you’ve never been in love, so you have no idea what ecstasy you’re missing!”
“Yes, I do have an idea,” she said, suddenly solemn as she looked across the ballroom at her handsome husband. He was easy to spot, his dark head looming over the crowd. He stood in a circle of men and one woman. He laughed at something she said, and she touched his arm lightly. It gave Claire a peculiar sensation to see the woman place her hand on Fortune.
“Lord, you’re in love with him!”
She swung her gaze back to Alaric, who was frowning at her. “Heaven help you, you’ve fallen in love with a man who has a block of granite for a heart,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“He’s very good to me and to Michael, Alaric. I can’t believe all that he’s given me.”
“You deserve a man who adores you,” Alaric answered gravely. “I jest so much of the time, Claire, I don’t think anyone, maybe even me included, knows when I’m in earnest, but if it weren’t for Michael, I would try to take you from him.”
Shaken, she gazed up at Alaric. “Then don’t ever forget Michael, because I would never leave him. I’d never do anything to jeopardize what Fortune has given me. And he said if I ever fall in love he would let me go, but he keeps Michael.”