Reiver rose. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right about not cutting wages. Ever since I reinstated the workers’ pay and rehired Constance Ferry from my competitor in Rockville, production has increased. No one is slacking off, and no one has left. If anything, more people than ever want to work for us.”
He bowed gallantly. “You were right, and I was wrong.” He straightened and smiled. “The necklace is my way of apologizing.”
Hannah eyed him warily. “If you think I’ll sign back control of the mill to you just because you’ve given me this necklace, you—”
“Lord, you are the suspicious one!” He laughed. “The necklace isn’t a bribe.
It’s a token of my appreciation, nothing more.”
“Forgive me once again if I seem suspicious of your motives, but you must admit that you haven’t given me much cause to trust you lately.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “This is Christmas—or what’s left of it. I don’t want to argue with you.”
Hannah turned away from the window and went over to the tree. “James is quite taken with Georgia. I wonder if he’ll ask her to marry him.”
Reiver jammed his hands into his pockets. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him interested in a woman. He’s usually more comfortable consorting with his machines.”
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“He is thirty-seven. Maybe he wants to settle down before it’s too late. After keeping company with machines all day, one would think he’d appreciate having a live woman to come home to.” Hannah turned to look at him. “What do you think of having Georgia in the family?”
He shrugged. “What I think doesn’t matter. If James loves her and wants to marry her, that’s his choice.”
Hannah looked surprised. “No objections to her past?”
He went over to the fireplace, took the poker, and jabbed at the dying embers. “I’m hardly in a position to judge anyone’s morals, now, am I?”
“Decent of you to admit it,” she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Reiver’s hand tighten on the poker, but when he didn’t raise it and come after her, she thought she must have imagined it.
She said, “You do know that Benjamin is infatuated with Georgia as well.”
Reiver straightened and stared at her. “Our Benjamin?”
“Our Benjamin.”
Reiver shook his head. “Well, I’ll be…”
“You mean you haven’t noticed the calf’s eyes he makes every time she walks into a room?”
“I’m afraid I’ve had weightier matters on my mind.”
Hannah massaged her temples. “I don’t want to see him hurt. He may be fourteen years old, but he’s still a baby in so many ways.”
“Stop coddling him, Hannah. He’s old enough to father a child.”
She whirled on him. “Then you had better speak to him about a gentleman’s responsibilities. One illegitimate child in this house is quite enough!”
Anger flashed in Reiver’s eyes, then vanished. “Easy, Hannah,” he said gently. “You’re becoming distraught over nothing. I hardly think that Benjamin is going to seduce Georgia as if he were some English nobleman and she the 284
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upstairs maid.” He smiled. “Anyone can see that Georgia is smitten with my brother. She will do nothing to encourage Benjamin, and this infatuation will die on the vine.”
Hannah sighed. “You’re right. The thought of Benjamin seducing Georgia is rather ludicrous.”
“I will speak to him, though.”
“I think that would be wise.” She stifled a yawn. “It’s time I retired.” She wished him good night, gathered her skirts, and glided out of the parlor.
Once upstairs in her bedchamber, Hannah lit the lamp and turned down the coverlet, amazed that she and Reiver had actually just had a civil conversation.
She smiled cynically as she unhooked her jade necklace and put it away in the bureau drawer. Belonging to an empress indeed. As if Reiver would give a gift symbolizing power and strength to a wife whose iron will he despised. No, he was scheming to regain control of his mill, and she wondered what he would do next.
Once she had undressed and slipped into her nightgown, she hurried to bed and burrowed beneath the covers. In the darkness that hid her deep shame, she touched herself in every way that Samuel was wont to do, imagining him lying beside her, not thousands of miles and years away. But her body accepted the lie, just as she accepted her solitary release.
Downstairs, Reiver sipped his apple brandy, stared into the cold fireplace, and cursed himself for a fool.
He recalled the day Hannah had named her price for raising his mistress’s child as her own, and what she had said: Perhaps f I thought it would make you love me, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I’ve come to realize that you’ll never love me, no matter what I do.
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He remembered how she had paused hopefully, giving him the opportunity to deny it, but like a fool he hadn’t.
Now he realized that she had handed him the key to her devotion on a silver platter, and he had knocked it aside.
Perhaps it was not too late. If only he could convince Hannah that he loved her, she would do anything for him.
Reiver set down his glass and steepled his fingers. He would have to proceed slowly and carefully.
His plotting done for the night, he rose and went upstairs to his own room.
Several days later Reiver took Benjamin hunting in the thick woods south of Coldwater, but shooting deer or pheasant was not uppermost in his mind.
Walking silently through the forest, his rifle cradled in the crook of his arm, scanning the pristine snow for tracks, Reiver was about to bring up the subject of women when his son startled him by asking, “Father, why did Mr. Tuttle shoot you?”
An unnatural, expectant hush fell over the woods, as if every squirrel, bird, and deer stopped, waited, and listened for Reiver’s reply.
He took a deep breath and said, “He shot me because his wife and I were lovers.” He looked at his son. “Do you know what that means?”
Benjamin gave him a scornful, curiously adult glance. “Of course I do, Father. I’m not a child. One…hears things from one’s fellows.”
Reiver nodded, then paused, wondering exactly what to say next. “Are you angry with me for what I did?”
“I’m more confused. You married Mama. Why should you”—he turned beet red—“want to—to fornicate with another woman?”
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“Because I loved Cecelia—Mrs. Tuttle—long before I met your mama.”
Benjamin scowled and reached beneath his brown wool cap to scratch his head. “Now I’m more confused than ever. If you loved another woman, why did you marry Mama?”
Following a winding stream deeper and deeper into the woods, Reiver explained how much he needed the Racebrook land for the mill, and how he had had to marry Hannah Whitby to get it.
He stopped and placed his free hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “So you see, son, love often has nothing to do with marriage. And I hope you won’t be angry with me for loving another woman instead of your mother.”
Conflicting loyalties warred on Benjamin’s face. “You’re my father.” As if that absolved Reiver of any wrongdoing. “Mama must have been very hurt when she found out about you and Mrs. Tuttle.”
“Not so much hurt as angry.”
So angry that she had an affair with your Uncle Samuel, Reiver thought. But he would never say that to Ben.
Reiver said, “She never would have known if Tuttle hadn’t shot me. I was always discreet, as a gentleman should be in these matters. But she found out, and felt that I had betrayed her.”
“Mrs. Tuttle is dead now, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Reiver said over the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, “but I loved her and will always miss her.”
Benjamin kicked at the snow and said nothing, though Reiver could tell he wanted to.
“Your mother has never understood me,” he continued. “All she could think about was her own hurt. She couldn’t see that I loved Mrs. Tuttle, and forgive me. But then, women are strange creatures, not like men at all.”
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This piqued Benjamin’s interest. “In what way?”
Reiver crouched down to examine some fresh tracks in the snow. “They’re delicate creatures of emotion. They’re ruled by their feelings rather than their intellect, which is considerably less than ours. That makes it difficult to reason with them.” He rose. “Other men understand why I had to be with Mrs. Tuttle, but women are much less tolerant.”
“If Mr. Tuttle was so understanding, why did he try to kill you?”
“That’s different. He saw that I was stealing his property. A man never lets another man take his property, son, whether it’s his wife or his land. It’s part of being a man. Remember that. And as much as getting shot hurt, I respected Tuttle for coming after me. I would have done the same in his situation.”
They walked on, snow crunching underfoot and branches snagging their clothes. In the distance some small unseen animal went crashing through the underbrush.
Benjamin, taking advantage of this newfound camaraderie with his father, asked, “Did you fornicate with many women before you fell in love with Mrs.
Tuttle?”
Reiver frowned at him in mock severity. “Where did you learn such language? I should wash out your mouth with soap.”
Benjamin turned red. “The fellows.”
“What I do with women is my own business. A gentleman never boasts of his conquests, especially to ‘the fellows’. He must protect a woman’s reputation whether she’s well-bred or a servant, and he must never take advantage of the powerless and the weak. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.” Benjamin took a deep breath and blurted out, “What do you think of Georgia?”
“I think she’s very pretty and very sweet. But you’re to leave her alone.”
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“Why?” Benjamin wailed.
“First of all, your Uncle James wants her.”
“But he’s so—so old!”
Reiver suppressed a smile. “Perhaps Georgia sees him as mature and settled.
Even if your uncle didn’t want her, remember what I just said about never taking advantage of the powerless?” When Benjamin nodded reluctantly, Reiver added,
“Georgia is a servant in my household. I’ll not have a son of mine seducing servants.”
“Yes, Father.”
Reiver grasped his son’s shoulder. “Don’t be disappointed, son. I know you like her, but there will be many other women, believe me. You’re handsome, smart, and the heir to Shaw Silks. Women are attracted to handsome, smart, wealthy men.”
“She thinks I’m still a boy, not worth a second look.”
“When you’re older, I’ll introduce you to a special lady friend of mine, and she’ll teach you all that you need to know about that part of being a man, just like she taught me and your uncles.”
Benjamin’s face brightened. “I’ve heard the fellows talk about such women.
They say that kind are quite”—his blue eyes twinkled expectantly—
“disreputable.”
Reiver thought of the Countess and her diverse collection of women and smiled. “They are most certainly that, but they can teach a young man much about women and the world.”
“When will you take me to meet this lady friend of yours?”
“Not until you’re sixteen.”
Benjamin’s face fell. “That’s two years away!”
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“You mustn’t be impatient. And you must promise not to tell your mama.
She wouldn’t understand. Or Davey. He’d be jealous.”
“It will be our secret, Father.”
They walked on, and didn’t return home until Benjamin had shot a doe.
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Chapter Fifteen
The spring of 1856 found all of Coldwater talking about nothing but the evils of slavery, especially after abolitionists led by Connecticut native John Brown killed five proslavery settlers in Kansas. James Shaw, however, could think of nothing but Georgia Varner.
His obsession had only one cure.
So he waited for the perfect day, one warm, sunny morning in late May.
Then he put on his Sunday best, hitched up Racer, and drove to the main house, where he found Georgia in the nursery, kneeling on the floor some distance away from Hannah, who was holding a standing baby Elisabeth around the waist.
Georgia extended her arms. “Come to me, Lizzie. Come to Georgia.”
“Go to Georgia,” Hannah whispered, letting go.
Elisabeth stood there teetering for a moment as if undecided whether to flop down or walk. Then she got a steely look of determination in her wide blue eyes, hurled herself toward Georgia, and wove across the floor like a drunken sailor.
“You did it!” Georgia cheered, her hazel eyes sparkling as she caught the laughing baby and lifted her triumphantly over her head.
Hannah sat there, beaming as proudly as if she were Elisabeth’s real mother.
When she noticed James standing in the doorway, she rose and dusted off her skirt. “You were just in time to see Lizzie take her first steps,” she said. “We’re quite proud of her.”
“And so you should be,” James said, entering the room, his eyes on Georgia.
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Georgia’s gaze took in his clean dress shirt with its high collar points, gold brocade waistcoat, and immaculate hands. “Why are you all dressed up?”
He swept his hair off his forehead. “I have something important to do today, and I’d like you to come with me.” He glanced at Hannah. “That is, if you can spare her for a while.”
Hannah took the baby. “Oh, I suppose I could watch Lizzie myself for the rest of the morning.”
James extended his hand to Georgia and helped her to her feet.
“Let me get my bonnet and I’ll be right with you,” she said.
When Georgia left the room, James said to Hannah, “I’ve noticed that Ben’s been cold toward me lately, and I can’t understand why. Would you know?”
Hannah hoisted Lizzie into her arms. “He’s sweet on Georgia, too, and sees you as his rival.”
James rocked back on his heels in surprise. “Ben sweet on my Georgia?”
Then he nodded ruefully. “The comb he gave her for Christmas… I should have realized…but I’m such a dunce when it comes to reading people.”
“No, you’re merely a man in love wearing blinders. Reiver spoke to him, and while he’s heartbroken, he realizes that Georgia is already spoken for.”
James hoped that after today Georgia would be more than spoken for.
When she appeared at the door in her new bonnet trimmed inside the brim with copper-colored ruching and a big satin bow tied under her chin, James found it difficult to breathe.
Georgia smiled at him. “Shall we go?”
He nodded and offered her his arm.
Once outside, Georgia said, “Now, what is this important something that you have to do?”
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“You’ll see.” James handed her into the carriage and got in beside her. He drove in silence for ten minutes, skirting the town, then stopped and handed Georgia down.
“What a lovely spot,” she said, looking around at the small, still pond surrounded by magnificent white birches and maple
s.
“I used to come here often as a boy,” he explained, “when I needed solitude.” He looked around. “It’s so tranquil.”
He took Georgia’s hand and led her over to a collection of boulders at the water’s edge.
One bore an indentation that created a natural seat. “I used to pretend that I was a king, and this was my throne.” He ducked his head. “Since you’re as beautiful as a queen, why don’t you sit there today?”
Georgia sat down and giggled. “Queen Georgia of Coldwater…sounds rather grand for such a simple country girl, doesn’t it?”
“You are a queen to me,” James said gravely. He took her hand and fell down on one knee. “And I’d like to make you my wife, if you’ll have me.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. “Oh, James…I—I don’t know what to say.”
She’s going to refuse me, he thought, panicking. She thinks I’m too old. “I—I realize that we haven’t known each other for very long,” he began, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth again, “but I do love you, Georgia, and I know I could make you happy, if—”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, James.”
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“You will?” He jumped to his feet, his heart pounding out of control. Then he grasped a laughing, beaming Georgia around the waist and helped her down from the “throne”, twirling her around before her feet could touch the ground.
Dizzy with happiness, he set her down and hugged her. “You have made me the happiest man in Coldwater!”
“And you have made me the happiest woman on the face of the Earth.”
Georgia wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him.
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