Henri jerked in his seat and put his hands on his desk to stand. “Now, what’s this—?”
“Sit down and listen.”
David froze, as did Henri in a half squatting position.
The room felt icy for no apparent reason. While Henri slowly lowered himself, David fidgeted. Should he sit too? He couldn’t sit right smack in front of Henri’s desk between the two of them. He glanced around for somewhere else to sit, finding a chair in the corner.
Caroline stamped forward. “You always did have a thick skull, I just never knew how thick.”
David stopped halfway to the chair. If he hadn’t asked Caroline earlier if she wanted him to stay, he’d be inching back toward the door.
“Miss O’Conner.” Henri sat rigidly behind his desk. “You don’t have an appointment, and I don’t think—”
“After these past three years, I don’t know why I ever thought I was in love with you.”
If Henri’s body hadn’t already been visibly tense, the man might just have snapped.
David gestured toward the door. “Perhaps I should leave.”
Caroline sliced her hand through the air as if he were a back-talking orphan. “Stay. That way this blockhead can’t spread wrongful gossip or deny he knows what I’m about to tell him.”
David lowered himself onto the chair’s arm, perched so he could leave the second he was able.
Henri’s face was a high red. “Excuse me, Miss O’Conner, but I don’t let men call me names, and I won’t—”
“My sister never loved you.”
Henri’s face blanked, and his body lost its rigidity.
“You were just someone to flirt with, like all the others. Just like she does now. I know the names you call Moira, and I can’t say I disagree with you. She is the epitome of the unwholesome prostitute people like to paint all prostitutes as being. But she’s done one thing worthy of admiration, and because of that, I will try for the rest of my life to convince her to leave her line of work.”
Henri glanced over at him, and David shook his head. Hopefully Henri would understand he hadn’t known this was coming. He should’ve asked her to tell him the story before they confronted Henri, but with the sound of unshed tears in Caroline’s voice, he wasn’t about to suggest she fill him in later.
Grasping the chair in front of Henri’s desk, Caroline lowered herself onto the seat and pressed her hands together. “When we were young”—Caroline’s voice softened—“Moira always got the attention.”
Her change from outrage to solemnity startled him more than her declaration of love for a man far above her station.
“The boys loved her. Our parents preferred her. Even our teachers succumbed to her charm, forgetting I existed. I never knew why she hated me.” She stared at her folded hands in her lap. “I was not a threat to her popularity. I was dumpy and shy. Not until later did I realize it was because Daddy was more interested in her than a man ought to be in his daughter.”
David stiffened and Henri ran a hand through his hair and muttered a curse.
“My lack of beauty saved me from my father’s attention—until he couldn’t pay a debt. Late one night, a brothel owner sent two thugs to either extract the money from him or crack his skull. We heard the scuffle outside our window, and Moira held me as I silently cried.” Caroline looked up, but her eyes seemed far away. “Just when I wondered if Daddy had been killed, he groaned and begged to have his debt erased if he gave me to the brothel owner. I’d pay his debt off and then some, he’d said.”
Henri pinched the bridge of his nose, and David hung his head. Evelyn had mentioned how some of the women were trapped in the life simply because one person considered them to be nothing more than chattel, but sitting beside someone so autonomous and free, imagining her being handed over like property and someone accepting her as such, defied reason.
“I figured I’d heard him wrong, but Moira tightened her grip on me. They asked if I was the blonde. When Daddy said Moira was not for sale, they told him if the brunette wasn’t deemed good enough, come morning, he better have five hundred dollars.” Caroline’s voice petered out.
The clock ticked loudly behind them, and David got up to put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
She gave his hand a quick squeeze but stood and then proceeded to pace. “I started packing immediately, but Daddy came and dragged me to the basement and locked me in. My panic and fear were so intense I thought I’d surely die, but the key jiggled in the door hours later, and Daddy took me by the wrist and dragged me into an awaiting vehicle. No amount of pleading changed his mind.” She crossed her arms as if cold. “When we reached the brothel, I couldn’t fight him. Daddy told an older gentleman he’d come to make good on his debt. The man barely glanced at me, shrugged, and said it was a deal if Daddy had fifty bucks, since he had immediate debts of his own. How my father had fifty dollars I’ll never know, but it seemed like I lived through hours of agony as he pulled out each of those ten-dollar bills. My stomach betrayed me, and I couldn’t move from where he’d left me on the floor, getting sick in a heap at the brothel owner’s feet.
“Hours, or maybe only minutes, passed, when I heard Moira’s voice break through my sobbing. She said if the owner let me go free and put me on the next departing train, he could have her instead.” Caroline’s voice grew scratchy. “She was dolled up, giving the brothel owner the same coquettish looks she plied on you and countless other men.”
She looked to the ceiling, blinking repetitively, her lips pressed tight. After a few seconds, she took a breath and closed her eyes. “The next few minutes were a blur, and I don’t know how she got me out of there when they could have manhandled us both, but I had the wherewithal to protest. Moira wouldn’t listen, told me she was built for it, I wasn’t. That her living out of Daddy’s reach in the brothel was the best revenge for the hell he’d put her through.”
Caroline stopped pacing and hung her head. Henri just sat blinking.
David rubbed a hand down his face. He’d been so eager to help Evelyn he hadn’t considered what it would cost Caroline to tell her story. But how could he have known? And would any of this change Henri’s mind?
“But I don’t think what she said about herself is true,” Caroline whispered, her voice nearly nonexistent. She’d moved to stand next to Henri’s picture window, her reflection showing a woman whose face had aged far faster than her sister’s. “Moira knew I was in love with you. It was the only reason she didn’t sleep with you like she did the other boys. And you put her on a pedestal for it. I think she gave herself up to give me a chance with you, but I left town that day.”
David shifted. And here he’d thought Moira playing with his tie earlier had been the most uncomfortable he’d been in his life.
“I never went back to see you. It wasn’t worth getting within reach of my father when you’d never noticed me before. And what kind of sister would I be to pursue happiness when Moira had given up her own for me?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “After my parents died in 1904, an attorney found me and helped me sell their property to pay for Moira’s freedom. I told her I’d stay with her forever, locked away from the world so she could have some of the freedom she’d given me.”
She turned from the window, the lines on her face more pronounced, as if she’d gained a wrinkle or two during the retelling. Her eyes somehow despairing and resolute at the same time. “I have no idea why she won’t leave, have no idea if she truly wants to stay as she claims, but I know others who’d leave if they had a chance. Those who were like me but without a Moira to save them—or those who’ve finally seen the light. If my sister ever sees that light, I’m going to be there, women’s home or no.”
Caroline shook her head as she turned to stare outside again. “I never thought I’d see you again. I was so focused on convincing Moira to leave that first year I don’t think I even bothered to read a newspaper. I certainly hadn’t paid enough attention to the world aro
und me to hear you’d been in Teaville for years nor realize you were friends with Mr. Lowe. If I’d known, I’d have never taken his housekeeping position.” Her jaw grew taut as she tilted her chin a little. “I wish you’d never found out about Moira, but I can’t believe you’ve been fuming for nearly three years over a woman who only ever strung you along, while you refuse to help women like me, who would’ve loved you if circumstances hadn’t taken that chance away. I don’t expect you’d ever take a second look at me, but . . .” She suddenly about-faced and walked toward the exit without even glancing in Henri’s direction.
David moved to meet her, but she held out her hand. “I don’t require an escort home, Mr. Kingsman. I walk alone through worse neighborhoods when I’m called to help the women. I’m not going straight back to the orphanage anyway. I’ve got to walk off my desire to punch Henri in the nose first.” And then she was gone.
Henri rubbed the back of his neck, staring at something on his desk.
David cleared his throat and took a step forward. “The other day when you’d reacted so violently to Moira’s name, I figured if I could get to the bottom of whatever caused that reaction, you might be more willing to listen to Miss Wisely’s proposal. That . . .” He held out his hand as if pointing to the story still hanging heavy in the room. “That wasn’t what I expected. I shouldn’t have meddled.”
“No, I needed to hear the story. I had no idea.” Henri shook his head, his focus on something intangible. “Give me a few days to think.”
If only Caroline hadn’t had to rip herself apart in front of them to get that response.
23
Stifling a yawn, Evelyn tried to keep her eyes open long enough to catch the ball four-year-old Ezekiel threw. Momma had told her to go outside and get some sunshine while the baby slept, but maybe she should have taken a nap with Hope instead.
Evelyn yawned and threw the ball back to Ezekiel. How did mothers of multiple children get anything done with newborns? A few babies had come through the mansion before, but not with so many other orphans in residence. She definitely needed more coffee. Maybe she should gulp down a potful every time the wet nurse bustled up to attend Hope.
“Miss Wisely!” Ezekiel shouted, his voice clearly disappointed.
She shook her head to clear out the fuzz. “What?”
He pointed at the ball at her feet.
“I’m sorry.” She rubbed a hand across her face, bent to retrieve the ball, and tossed it to him.
He lobbed the ball back, but it went high and wide, giving her no chance to catch it. She turned to race after it before it skipped down the backyard’s long sloping hill, but she stopped midstride.
David was running after the ball, easily heading it off as it gained speed.
How she wished she could run as unencumbered as a man.
How she wished David came around more often—though she absolutely shouldn’t wish that.
When had he arrived anyway? He must have pulled his buggy up front and not bothered to go through the mansion.
Ball tucked under his arm, he jogged up the hill with a slight grin, and not the one he plied on every girl. No, this one was more subtle, easily missed, and yet, it made her heart pound even worse.
She put her hands to the back of her neck and pretended she was exasperated at having missed the ball when she was actually far more concerned about covering up what was surely a blush crawling up her neck. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” He raised the ball above his head. “Catch, Ezekiel.”
The boy behind her screeched as the ball soared high in the sky. He growled when he missed, then chased after the ball.
Max walked out the back door and bounded down the stairs of the massive wraparound porch.
She waved at the older boy. “Why don’t you play with Ezekiel?” Hopefully Robert wasn’t watching through the windows. He’d probably spend the next few hours trying to finish his schoolwork, while Max had likely completed his own with no help in twenty minutes. If Robert couldn’t figure out how to get his work done faster so he wasn’t left inside while the others played, she was afraid he’d be forsaking school altogether and begging David for a full-time job.
Max caught Ezekiel’s wild throw and then kicked the ball toward the garden. Ezekiel ran after him.
As soon as the boys were out of earshot, she turned to David. “What brings you to the mansion this afternoon?”
David stood with his hands behind his back, the smile on his face growing wider. “What do you want more than anything in the world?”
What was this game? And if it wasn’t a game, how could she begin to answer? She closed her eyes to shut out his smile. Her hopes regarding what might happen if Nicholas’s private investigator was successful were best kept locked up tight—from everyone, including David.
Evelyn looked at him, hoping he’d gotten distracted by the children playing around them, but he stood waiting. Did she wish to be free of her secret?
No, all her reasons for keeping it still applied. Her current dilemma wouldn’t be helped by revealing it. She blew out a breath. What did she want? “I want answers.”
His face screwed up comically. “Answers to what?”
She smirked, hoping to hide how truly serious her reply had been. “Things I don’t know, of course.”
“Would knowing the answer to which businessmen have committed to sponsor your women’s home suffice?”
That wasn’t the answer she wanted most, but certainly one she prayed for. Of course, lately she’d been praying God would help her give up the idea if it was going nowhere. Not exactly a faith-filled prayer, but she’d certainly uttered it a time or two.
“The answer is Mr. Beauchamp and Mr. Runyan.”
She screwed up her forehead. “Runyan . . . The man who took over Mr. Hargrove’s cobbling business?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s such a small business, and he has seven children. How much can he help?”
“He’s agreed to teach a few women to fix shoes. They’d have to do the repair work at the women’s home though, since his wife wouldn’t agree to them helping at the shop.”
“You got the Runyans to agree to that?” Warm tingles rushed down her arms. That was far better than the dollar or two a month she’d asked of men like him.
“No, Hargrove did. I was more instrumental in Beauchamp’s capitulation.”
“And how did you accomplish that?” She’d left his office the last time with no hope. That was the night she’d begun to pray about knowing when to give up.
He rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s just say it wasn’t easy or particularly comfortable, but Mr. Beauchamp’s definitely committed now.”
“Truly?” When he nodded emphatically, she let out a whoop.
His face lit and he spread out his arms. “I take it that was a good answer.”
“It is indeed.” She went straight into his open arms and squeezed him tight. “I can’t believe it!”
He enfolded her in his embrace, crushing her against him. The stubble on his cheek grazed her jaw, and the scent of the castile soap in his hair tickled her nose. The hug should’ve lasted no more than a second, since she hadn’t even meant to embrace him, yet she tightened her arms around him even more. If only she could pretend she needed no more answers than the one he’d given her, that her past hadn’t happened, and that she could stay wrapped in his arms forever.
The shouts and hollers of playing children returned her to her senses.
She stepped away from him, but one of those involuntary shivers took over her entire body. The heat in her cheeks burst into flames.
He stared at her so intently the effect of that shiver threatened to erupt again.
She crossed her arms over herself, as if she were in danger—and she was in a way. Very much in danger. Oh, how she wished she’d never disobeyed her father, had never thought she knew better than her elders, had kept her future free to entertain whatever dreams came.
&n
bsp; Did he know he was still holding out his arms as if waiting for her to return?
Did he know how hard it was not to?
Oh, how was she to act normal after that hug? She searched the ground at her feet as if some mystical answer would rise from the grass like a fairy’s ring. “I’m sorry I got carried away just then.”
When he didn’t answer, she couldn’t help but look back at him.
His wounded expression only made things worse.
What to say? She clasped her hands together and fiddled with her thumbs. Something to get his mind off of what she’d just done. “Have you told Nicholas about the support yet?”
He blinked as if confused for a second, then sucked in a breath. “No, I haven’t. I figured you’d want to.”
“I do. Let me get Momma to take over for me, and we’ll tell him right away.” She picked up her skirts and headed for the house before she had to say anything more. Before David saw anything in her eyes he shouldn’t.
If he hadn’t already.
She couldn’t get sidetracked by her errant feelings for a man who would never be hers. No, she needed to focus on the wonderful possibilities he’d just given her for her future. So many women would be helped now.
But could she continue to keep him at arm’s length after she’d just now erased that distance completely?
Of course she could. She was reading too much into what had happened. A hug between friends was nothing crazy.
Lord, help me keep my feelings under control so I don’t ruin the friendship you’ve blessed me with. I want so very badly to keep it, even if it’s just for a while longer.
She turned to look back at David.
He was still watching her but was shortly attacked from the side by little Alex. He swooped her up and spun her around.
That sweet girl’s soft spot for him made Evelyn’s heart melt even more. Closing her eyes, she tore herself away from the scene and forged inside.
“Momma?” she called softly as she walked into the hallway. Momma was likely upstairs with the baby, but calling and looking in every room as she made her way upstairs would keep her mind from dwelling on the feel of David’s arms around her.
A Love So True Page 18