The Vow

by Lindsay Chase

  That was damn careless! But you’re still the handsomest devil I’ve ever seen,

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  Samuel Shaw, and as long as you’ve still got a good stiff cock on you…” The old lady gave Samuel a ribald wink.

  Everyone in the room froze in embarrassment. Someone gasped. But Samuel leaned over and whispered something in Mrs. Hardy’s ear that caused her to let out a deep whoop of laughter and slap her thigh.

  The danger averted, Hannah relaxed.

  “Samuel, I’m sure you’re tired after your long trip,” she said. “Why don’t we get you settled in the homestead? There will be plenty of time to talk with everyone later.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Samuel stared at the supper tray that Hannah had sent over to spare him the ordeal of dinner conversation tonight. He almost wept when he saw that she had cut up his roast into bite-size pieces.

  Leave it to Hannah.

  When he had seen her at the cemetery, laying roses on Abigail’s grave, he wanted to put his head in her lap and sob like baby. He fought down the impulse, for self-pity was the refuge of cowards.

  Alone in his old bedchamber, he expertly flicked open the napkin, spread it on his lap, then sampled the tender roast. He was used to the pitying stares and whispers now, and could even tolerate painful, blunt questions without lashing out in bitterness. But there were times…

  He rose and looked out the window at the main house bathed in late-summer twilight. He felt safe and secure at last, like a wounded bear finding the familiarity and comfort of its den.

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  The Vow

  On the endless voyage home, Samuel had wondered how Reiver would react to his return. He had prepared himself to swallow his pride and beg for forgiveness. He had forgotten that no matter how much he and Reiver fought and sometimes hated each other through the years, during times of adversity they always stood shoulder to shoulder to protect each other.

  Samuel returned to his supper and resumed eating, but the food had lost its flavor. Just seeing Hannah again released a flood of emotion he thought had long since died in the rugged goldfields of California and the vast Australian wilderness.

  What had been between them could never be again.

  Late that night, after everyone else had exhausted the topic of Samuel’s return and gone to bed, Hannah sat in the quiet parlor, staring into space and sipping her second glass of sherry.

  Reiver watched her from the doorway. “You’d better be careful, or you’ll wind up like my father.”

  “I still can’t believe it.”

  He sat down beside her on the settee. “About Samuel?”

  Hannah nodded. “It’s so sad. My heart just goes out to him.”

  “I can’t get over the change in him. Did you notice the way he hung back when he came into the parlor?”

  “He wasn’t sure how everyone would react to him, and he was afraid.”

  “He shouldn’t feel that way. We’re his family.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She had noticed that when Samuel was introduced to Georgia, instead of smiling and charming her as he did most women, he had withdrawn even further. Since he had lost his hand, was he afraid that women

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  wouldn’t find him attractive? The company of women had once been as vital to Samuel as his engraving.

  Reiver passed a weary hand over his eyes. “Of all the calamities that fate could send his way, for him to lose his hand…”

  Hannah’s gaze focused on her portrait that Samuel had engraved that first year of her marriage. “He’ll never be able to make a sketch or an engraving again. Drawing isn’t just something he did, it was what he was.”

  Reiver fell silent.

  Hannah sipped her sherry. “How would you feel if someone came along and took Shaw Silks away from you?”

  He gave her a wry glance. “Someone did.”

  She colored as his barb hit home. “It’s not the same at all. I may control the company, but I’ve never taken away your life’s work, have I?”

  “No,” he agreed. “You’ve been most reasonable about that.”

  “Thank you again for letting Samuel stay. I know he’s your brother and you felt obligated to let him return, but it was still very generous of you.”

  Reiver brushed a speck of lint from his trousers “My generosity does have its bounds.”

  Hannah grew very quiet and waited.

  A muscle twitched in her husband’s tense jaw. “You and my brother will not resume your…liaison under any circumstances. The both of you may have made a fool of me once, but I’ll not tolerate it again.” He paused. “Do we understand each other, Hannah?”

  She caught the underlying note of pain in his voice, and it surprised her. She set down her glass and placed her hand on his. “That happened a long time ago.

  The…passion that Samuel and I felt for each other is gone.” She wondered if she was trying to convince Reiver or herself. “We won’t be running off together.”

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  The Vow

  She recalled the day Samuel suggested they run away to Europe, and she remembered a remark Reiver had once made about how a single incident can change someone’s life forever. She couldn’t help the guilty feeling that if she had run away with Samuel, he wouldn’t have gone to Australia and lost his hand.

  “There’s nothing stopping you now,” Reiver said softly. “The boys are grown up enough to understand such things and would survive. I have no hold over you.”

  “You’re forgetting Elisabeth. I could never leave her. She’s as much my daughter as Abigail was.” Again, an innocent child bound her with loving chains.

  Hannah downed the rest of her sherry and smiled slowly at Reiver. “And I would never give up my control of Shaw Silks.”

  He raised his brows. “Not even for love?”

  “Not even for love.” To her surprise, she meant it. She must be growing cynical in her old age.

  Reiver laced his fingers behind his neck, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  “Neither did I.”

  She knew he was referring to Cecelia. “Did you ever regret it?”

  He regarded her from beneath half-open eyes. “No, I can’t say that I have. As much as I loved Cecelia, Shaw Silks has always been my passion, and I make no apologies for that.” But the pain in his voice belied his words.

  “At first I wanted her because she symbolized all of my aspirations. She came from a family of wealth and privilege, and she was so beautiful. No one jeered at her father for being the town drunk. No one threw mud at her for being the town drunk’s child. I felt that if I could win her, I would add one more accomplishment to what I hoped would be a long list.”

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  “That sounds rather cold and heartless, treating Cecelia as if she were some prize to be won,” Hannah said.

  “It was. Until I fell in love with her. I would have married her once the mill was established.” He shrugged. “But fate has a way of ruining our plans, doesn’t it?”

  And here we are, taking what we were given and making the best of it, Hannah thought.

  She didn’t know why, but tonight, sitting here with Reiver and talking about their lost dreams, she felt the old resentments and antagonisms fade. If their loves were lost to them forever, why couldn’t she and Reiver offer each other a little comfort, at least for tonight?

  “Reiver?”

  When he turned his head, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. At first his lips were stiff and unresponsive, but when Hannah didn’t pull away, they softened and parted. One strong arm slipped around her waist and drew her to him.

  Reiver ended the kiss. “Shall we go to bed?”

  Han
nah looked into his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  In response, she rose and extended her hand.

  The following morning Samuel rose late and dressed himself without too much difficulty, though cravats and ties were beyond his capabilities these days.

  When he walked downstairs, the tantalizing aroma of coffee teased his nostrils, and he knew that Hannah had breakfast waiting for him in the dining room.

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  The Vow

  “Good morning,” she said, smiling brightly. The table was set for two. “Did you sleep well?”

  He suppressed a yawn. “After some of the places I’ve slept, sleeping in that old bed was like sleeping on a cloud.”

  He noticed that no matter what the fashion, Hannah still wore her thick, glossy hair parted in the middle, swept over her ears, and arranged in a heavy chignon at the nape of her neck, the neck he always kissed before unpinning her hair and letting it cascade down her bare back…

  “Breakfast is ready, so why don’t you sit down?” She sailed off toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “There’s bacon and eggs, and muffins.” When she returned, she carried two plates.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” he said, sitting down.

  “It’s no trouble at all.” She set a heaping plate in front of him and poured the coffee.

  Samuel ate slowly, trying to find a way to tell her that her presence was too painful to endure and he would rather she left.

  “Where is James?” he asked.

  “He is either at the mill, as usual, or spending time with Georgia.” Hannah sipped her coffee. “What do you think of your future sister-in-law?”

  Privately Samuel thought Georgia Varner pretty and utterly charming, but lacking the complexity and depth he preferred in a woman. “She is rather young, isn’t she?”

  “Georgia’s just as old as I was when I married Reiver. But she’s good for James. She adds a certain lightheartedness to his life and keeps him from turning into a bobbin.”

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  That coaxed a small smile out of Samuel. He continued eating, and an awkward silence ensued. He could tell that Hannah expected certain responses from him, yet he didn’t know how to broach what he needed to tell her.

  Finally she set down her cup and folded her arms on the table. “Why are you so nervous around me? You’re acting as though we’re strangers who had just been introduced.”

  He looked up. “We are. It’s been eight years since we’ve seen each other, Hannah. You said it yourself. We’ve both changed.”

  “We used to be lovers. We should at least be able to talk to each other freely, without this—this tension between us.”

  His appetite gone, he pushed his plate away and rose, drawing his right arm against his side protectively. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Reiver has forgiven me and taken me back into the family fold. I can’t betray his trust.”

  Comprehension dawned on Hannah’s face. “You think that my presence will make you do something to betray that trust?”

  Samuel looked at her. “Oh, yes.”

  Hannah rose, her expression soft with understanding. “I’m flattered that you still find me capable of inspiring such thoughts, but you needn’t fear. I have no intention of trying to seduce you. If you’re going to stay here, it’s impossible for us to avoid each other, and I wouldn’t want to. Before you were my lover, you were my very dear friend, and now that we’re not lovers, I hope we can still be friends.”

  Having had you as a lover, how can I ever settle for friendship? he wondered. He knew he had to, for he had no other place to go.

  He nodded. “I would like that.”

  “Good, because we have to talk.”

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  The Vow

  After breakfast, Hannah had the groom hitch up Racer and she took Samuel for a drive around Coldwater. She pointed out all the changes as she drove down Main Street. She nodded at people she knew, but did not stop, even when they stared at the strange bearded man seated stiffly at her side, for she refused to satisfy their curiosity at Samuel’s expense. Word would get around soon enough that Samuel Shaw had returned to Coldwater a broken man.

  When she reached a hill overlooking the town, she turned the carriage onto a side road and stopped.

  Samuel looked out over the buildings clustered between the green oaks and maples. “The town certainly has grown.”

  Hannah wrapped the reins around the brake and turned sideways to face him. “Yesterday, in the parlor when you saw Elisabeth…you knew right away that she’s Reiver’s daughter.”

  “She looks exactly like him,” he replied. “Why did you claim that she’s some dead cousin’s daughter?”

  “Because she’s Cecelia Tuttle’s daughter, too.”

  His pale eyes widened in astonishment. “Reiver and Cecelia?”

  While Samuel listened, Hannah told him all about Reiver’s trips to New York City for trysts with Cecelia under the guise of mill business, and how she had died giving birth to Reiver’s child.

  “Just before Cecelia died, she told her husband that the baby was Reiver’s.

  Tuttle threatened to send her to a foundling home if Reiver didn’t take her.”

  Samuel looked aghast. “He brought his mistress’s child here and expected you to raise it as your own? And you agreed to it? That’s noble and very generous.”

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  “Hardly that, because I demanded a high price in return. I wanted controlling shares in his company.” She paused. “And he gave them to me.”

  He stared at her in stunned disbelief. “You’ve been running Shaw Silks?”

  “Reiver does, but I have the final say. I am not a figurehead.”

  Samuel leaned back in his seat, balancing himself with his left hand. “Well done, Hannah.”

  “No one else knows about Elisabeth’s true parentage,” she said. “If they’ve guessed, they’ve prudently kept it to themselves.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I knew it would be.”

  “And the mill?”

  “To the world, Reiver still runs it.” Hannah’s brow furrowed. “I know it was petty and vengeful, but I had to do it for Benjamin and Davey. I was afraid that Reiver might leave everything to his illegitimate daughter, and I couldn’t have that. Not after the way he treated Abigail.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Your children always were the guiding force in your life.”

  She thought of what Reiver had said last night about nothing keeping her here if she chose to leave with Samuel. “They still are.”

  He glanced at her. “You have changed. You’re much stronger than you used to be.”

  “Amos Tuttle once called me devious.”

  “Devious? You’re the most honest woman I know.”

  Then Hannah told him how she had helped Reiver to acquire the Bickford farm.

  “So Shaw Silks has become your passion as well.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

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  “Not disappointed, envious.” He stared at the horizon. “Everyone has a purpose in life except me.” Then he shook his head. “There I go again, feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You needn’t. Shaw Silks will become a part of your life as well.”

  Hannah would see to that.

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  Chapter Eighteen

  Monday, September 21, 1857, was the perfect day for James and Georgia’s wedding.

  Hannah stood off to the happy bride’s left as her attendant and listened to the half-deaf Reverend Crane shout out the marriage ceremony as if everyone else couldn’t hear.

  How differ
ent this wedding is from mine so long ago, she thought.

  Today over one hundred friends, relatives, and workers crowded the small church, most filling the pews to overflowing and the rest packed together in the back. Unlike Hannah’s wedding, this bride and groom wanted to marry each other.

  Hannah’s eyes filled with sentimental tears when Georgia said her vows so enthusiastically, her words rang like the joyous pealing of wedding bells. She smiled when James brushed his hair out of his eyes before placing the wedding band on his bride’s finger.

  May you always be as happy as you are today, Hannah thought.

  Then the groom kissed his bride and they walked down the aisle as husband and wife, out into the late-afternoon sunshine that was pouring its own blessing down on them.

  Hannah circulated among the guests on the lawn surrounding the main house, complimenting the women on their finery and being complimented in The Vow

  turn on her elegant blue silk gown trimmed with flounces and narrow satin ribbons.

  Mostly she kept an eye on Samuel.

  From across the lawn she watched him as he sipped a cup of punch and appeared deep in serious conversation with the overseer of the new Hartford ribbon factory.

  Samuel avoided women, though one or two cast come-hither looks in his direction. He ignored them.

  Hannah drifted over to the group of men gathered around Reiver.

  “…and have you been satisfied with Chinese silk?” one of them asked.

  Reiver shook his head. “Not at all. The raw silk I’ve been getting has been so inferior that it makes me wish we could breed silkworms in this country.”

  Burrows, the paper mill owner, laughed. “We all know what happened when you tried that!”

  The rest of the men joined in the laughter.

  Reiver continued with, “I’ve heard talk that next year we’ll be signing a commercial treaty with Japan to open their port of Yokohama to foreign trade.”