With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  “I can’t believe how many people are here,” Gwen said when she arrived with Harrison. Though she had tried to demur, he had insisted on accompanying her, claiming that he wanted a beautiful woman on his arm. Even Gwen’s scoffs had not managed to hide her blushes. And the way she clung to Harrison’s arm tonight reminded Elizabeth how little Gwen was accustomed to society. Her simple farming background and Army life with her husband had not prepared her for the glitter of Cheyenne’s upper crust.

  “You look lovely,” Elizabeth said softly. “Just think of all the stories you can tell Rose tomorrow.”

  “Good move,” Harrison murmured. “You know how to calm her. I’ll take over now.” He led Gwen to a small table where a formally clad man was offering guests cups of punch.

  Though her throat was dry, Elizabeth knew it would be at least another half hour before she could enjoy the cool refreshment. She smiled and greeted the next guest, trying not to let her smile fade when she saw that Jason Nordling was in line. It wasn’t as if she were surprised. She’d known it was probable that he’d been invited when she learned of his friendship with Richard. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to be polite. She did. And it wasn’t as if she’d have to spend more than a few seconds conversing with him. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, to be bothered just because Jason Nordling was coming her way.

  Looking more handsome than ever in his formal clothing, he inclined his head in a short bow as he greeted Mrs. Taggert. Whatever he said must have charmed her, for Elizabeth heard the older woman laugh. It appeared Mr. Nordling had to uphold his reputation of being charming . . . to everyone except her.

  “Good evening, Dr. Harding.”

  Elizabeth smiled at the fact that the man who’d questioned her abilities as a physician was now addressing her as “doctor.” The smile was wiped away as he continued.

  “I’m glad to see you did not heed my advice.” Jason Nordling took Elizabeth’s extended hand. Unlike some of the men, he did not hold it beyond the accepted time, and though his lips were curved in a smile, the smile did not extend to his eyes.

  “What advice was that?” she asked, keeping her own voice as sweet as she could. No matter how annoying she found this particular guest, she would not create an unpleasant scene at the party. It was only a few seconds, after all. She’d greet him, and then she’d be free of him for the rest of the evening.

  Elizabeth darted a quick glance at Miriam, wondering whether the next guest was ready to proceed along the line. Unfortunately, Miriam was engaged in what appeared to be a lengthy discussion with a strikingly attractive auburn-haired woman and an older man who kept a proprietary hand on her arm. Though he appeared to be old enough to be the redhead’s father, the man’s expression made Elizabeth believe he was her husband. Both appeared to be well acquainted with Miriam, making Elizabeth fear she would be required to spend more time than she’d expected with the arrogant attorney.

  “What advice?” Mr. Nordling raised a quizzical brow. “Surely you recall that I advised you to pack your bags and leave Cheyenne.” He kept his voice low enough that it could not be overheard, making Elizabeth wonder if he was teasing or serious. She would pretend there was no question, that this was simply playful banter.

  “And miss the pleasure of your company tonight?” Elizabeth hadn’t realized that her voice could sound so sugary. “Why, that would have been a fate worse than death.”

  Before he could reply, the woman who’d been speaking to Miriam tapped Mr. Nordling on the shoulder with her fan. “Hurry, Jason. The sooner we’re through this line, the sooner the dancing will start. I’ve saved the first and last for you.” A coquettish smile accompanied her words.

  “Surely your husband will want the honor of those particular sets.” Though he phrased it as a suggestion, the steel in Jason Nordling’s voice made it no less than a command. “I’ll content myself with another one.” Singular. There were undercurrents here that Elizabeth did not want to explore, but one thing was clear: the beautiful redhead and Jason Nordling were far from strangers.

  Jason stepped away as Miriam intervened. “Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick.” She nodded at the auburn-haired woman and her escort. Though Mrs. Chadwick was as tall and slender as Miriam and dressed in a russet silk gown that highlighted her slim beauty, her husband was of average height, with the heavy build that Elizabeth associated with fighters. The gray wings at his temples left no doubt that he was considerably older than his wife, probably close to fifty, while Mrs. Chadwick appeared to be less than thirty. “Nelson is the owner of Cheyenne’s finest lumber company,” Miriam explained, “and Tabitha—”

  Before she could complete the sentence, Nelson Chadwick interrupted. “Thank you for the compliment, Miriam. If we are the finest, a lot of the credit goes to my foreman.” He gestured toward the man standing on his other side, a brown-haired man of around thirty whose hazel eyes were fixed on Tabitha Chadwick, while the lovely redhead was staring at Jason Nordling. “Let me introduce you to Oscar Miller.” Nelson grinned. “Although he’ll try to deny it, Oscar is one of Cheyenne’s most eligible bachelors. I suspect Tabitha and I were invited simply so that he would come.”

  Though Mr. Miller murmured a greeting, Elizabeth noted that his eyes continued to stray to Tabitha Chadwick, and—judging from the frown that crossed his face—he was not pleased by her attention to the young attorney.

  Apparently unaware of the tension among her guests, Miriam nodded at Mrs. Chadwick. “Tabitha was one of your sister’s best customers—after me, that is.”

  Tabitha Chadwick turned back toward Miriam and Elizabeth. “Charlotte is indeed a talented seamstress. I don’t know what we’re going to do without her.”

  “Wear gowns more than once.”

  Tabitha gave an exaggerated shudder at Miriam’s suggestion. “Never,” she declared as she reached for her husband’s hand. “Nelson would never allow that.”

  An hour later, Elizabeth’s cheeks hurt, not from being pinched, for as Miriam had predicted, there had been none of that, but from the effort of smiling. She must have been introduced to a hundred people. All were polite. Most were curious. If there was one thing Elizabeth had learned by the time the reception line disbanded, it was that no one here had met a woman doctor. Though they’d said little about her profession, she had seen their puzzled expressions when they’d complimented her on her gown. Had they expected her to wear trousers and a jacket like Dr. Worland? Surely they realized that being a doctor didn’t make Elizabeth less than a woman. But perhaps they did not. Even Mama had warned that Elizabeth might have to sacrifice the most fundamental aspects of her femininity, becoming a wife and mother, if she wanted to pursue her dream of being a physician.

  “My feet hurt,” Miriam admitted as the last of the guests made their way into the parlor. “I need to sit down before the dancing starts.”

  Though Elizabeth would have appreciated the rest, the sight of Gwen seated at the opposite side of the room, looking a bit forlorn, perhaps because Harrison was engrossed in what appeared to be an animated conversation with Nelson Chadwick and his foreman, led her in that direction. There had to be something she could say to boost Gwen’s spirits.

  Keeping a smile firmly fixed on her face, Elizabeth made her way through the crowds. Although she tried not to eavesdrop, her ears perked when she passed two middle-aged women, their expressions telling her the subject of their discussion was unpleasant.

  “The man is as handsome as can be,” the woman in the deep purple dress announced.

  Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued as she speculated on the identity of the handsome man. In her estimation, Jason Nordling was the most handsome in the room, but perhaps the woman was referring to someone else.

  Her companion, clad in a lemon-yellow gown that did not flatter her coloring and that was definitely not one of Charlotte’s creations, nodded. “True, but Mama used to say ‘handsome is as handsome does.’ I couldn’t ever trust him. I mean
, what kind of man defends a murderer?”

  The subject of the women’s discussion was indeed Jason.

  Purple Lady nodded. “You’re correct. No one with any honor would do that.”

  “It’s a matter of principle,” Yellow added.

  If she were prudent, Elizabeth would have continued on her way, pretending she had not heard the women discussing Jason Nordling. And yet, no matter how she felt about him personally, she could not let them malign the man who’d done nothing more than uphold the Constitution.

  Elizabeth wasn’t certain when her opinion had shifted. Perhaps it had occurred when she’d been so appalled by the vigilante justice that had ended Adam Bennett’s life. All she knew was that she had wakened one day with the realization that, whether or not he’d known the truth of Bennett’s guilt when he’d accepted him as a client, Jason Nordling had been right to defend him, for in doing so, he’d guaranteed Adam Bennett one of the rights that made America such a great country. Now these women were denying that.

  “I know it’s rude to interrupt,” Elizabeth said as she inched her way between the two ladies, “but I couldn’t help overhearing. I agree with you,” she said, inclining her head toward Yellow. The woman smiled, obviously gratified by Elizabeth’s approval. She wouldn’t be so happy when she heard the rest. “Mr. Nordling’s defense of Adam Bennett was indeed a matter of principle. I think one of the finest things our country’s founding fathers did was ensure that everyone is entitled to a defense.” Yellow’s eyes widened. Clearly, she had not expected that. “I’m not condoning what Mr. Bennett did, and I doubt Mr. Nordling was, either,” Elizabeth said, watching both women’s expressions, “but I do applaud the fact that Mr. Nordling upheld the principles of the Sixth Amendment.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Purple admitted.

  Though Yellow’s lips thinned, she said nothing, and Elizabeth suspected that the conversation would resume as soon as she left.

  “I saw you talking to those ladies,” Gwen said when Elizabeth joined her. “They didn’t look too happy with whatever you were saying.”

  Two dances later, Elizabeth learned just how unhappy they were when she passed by Purple and Yellow on her way to the punch bowl.

  “I wouldn’t have expected it of Madame Charlotte’s sister,” Purple said. “Charlotte is such a sweet lady, but Elizabeth . . .” She paused, searching for a word. “She’s not womanly. Look at the way she argued with us. She was acting just like a man.”

  Yellow nodded. “One thing’s for certain. Even if I were on my deathbed, I wouldn’t go to her.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. Miriam had organized this party to introduce her to the community and help her attract patients. Instead, Elizabeth had alienated at least two potential patients. And to think she’d done it in defense of Jason Nordling!

  “Everyone seems to be having a good time.” Miriam appeared at Elizabeth’s side, a half-filled cup of punch in her hand.

  “It’s the loveliest party I’ve ever attended.” Particularly if Elizabeth forgot about the way she’d offended Yellow and Purple.

  “That must mean no one pinched your cheeks.”

  “No one even tried.” Fortunately. Of course, Purple and Yellow might have had other ideas, less friendly ones than a pinch on the cheeks. Elizabeth and Miriam spoke of trivia for a few minutes until a waiter collected their now-empty cups and murmured something to Miriam.

  “It’s almost dinnertime,” Elizabeth’s hostess said. “Mama wants Richard and me to lead the procession, but first . . .” Miriam’s eyes lit. “Ah, there you are, Jason.” Her smile snagged him as surely as a lasso. When he was standing at her side, Miriam smiled again. “Would you escort Elizabeth in to dinner? I’ve seated you next to her.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned toward her husband and led the way to the dining room.

  Jason’s lips twisted in what appeared to be an ironic smile as he bent his elbow and offered his arm to Elizabeth. Though Elizabeth expected him to follow Miriam and Richard, he held back, letting others precede them. Bending his head slightly, as if he were confiding a secret, he said, “It appears you’re going to have even more of the pleasure of my company than you had anticipated.”

  Once again, they were playing the happy guest game. Elizabeth matched Jason’s smile with one of her own, a smile dripping with simulated sweetness. “Fortunately, my mother taught me how to be polite.”

  His eyebrows arched. “If you were being polite the day we met, I’d hate to see you when you’re rude. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a tongue-lashing.”

  “I wasn’t being rude,” she countered. Surely she hadn’t been. Elizabeth thought back, trying to recall what she had said. Surely she had done nothing to deepen the pain or discomfort or whatever it was she had seen in his eyes that day. “I was simply being honest. You riled me, Mr. Nordling.” And he was on his way to doing it again. Those arched eyebrows were designed to make her feel insignificant. Elizabeth knew it. That was the same look Charlotte used to give her when she was annoyed. Charlotte’s goal had been to make Elizabeth apologize. It hadn’t worked then, and it wouldn’t work now.

  “Call me Jason.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? If we’re going to have to make polite”—he threw her word back at her—“conversation for the next hour and a half, we might as well be on friendly terms.”

  “All right.” It was a less than gracious agreement, but Elizabeth was not feeling particularly gracious. “You may call me Elizabeth.”

  The first rush to enter the dining room had subsided. Placing his hand on top of hers in what appeared to be a courtly gesture, Jason nodded toward the doorway. “They’re expecting us.”

  As they entered the room, Elizabeth saw that in addition to the long table with its seating for more than two dozen, a number of smaller tables were placed around the perimeter. Still more were located in the adjoining room. The Taggerts were clearly accustomed to entertaining large groups.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand, Jason.” It felt odd, speaking his name. While it was true that in her thoughts Elizabeth sometimes referred to him that way, this was the first time she’d pronounced his given name. “Other than not offending our hosts, why would you want to be friendly with me?” she asked. “I know you have no respect for me.” And that knowledge rankled.

  For a second, Jason’s smile faltered. Renewing it, he shook his head. “You misunderstood. It’s not a matter of respect or disrespect. I simply think you’re mistaken if you believe you can succeed as a doctor.”

  “Because I’m a woman.”

  He shook his head. “Because the citizens of Wyoming aren’t ready for a woman doctor.”

  “That’s not what you said before.”

  A spark of what appeared to be pain lit his eyes, and in that instant Elizabeth suspected she’d misjudged him. Her parents had warned her that she was too quick to judge. Perhaps she had done that again, believing Jason Nordling to be arrogant and rude. Whether or not he’d known of his client’s guilt when he’d undertaken his defense, the trial and its aftermath had to have been difficult.

  It was as if he’d heard her thoughts. “That was one of the worst days of my life,” Jason admitted. “I was angry and frustrated, and I took it out on you.” He dipped his head so that his lips were closer to her ears. “I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

  Elizabeth smiled, and for the first time, the smile she directed at Jason Nordling was genuine. “I’d like that.”

  “Then shall we find our seats, Elizabeth?”

  She was thankful they had had the chance to talk before dinner, because once they were seated at the middle of the long table, there was little opportunity. Tabitha Chadwick, on Jason’s left, monopolized the conversation. Every time he turned to speak to Elizabeth, Tabitha would put her hand on his arm and interrupt, ignoring the glares her husband shot from the opposite side of the table. It didn’t seem to matter that Jason’s replies were monosyll
abic. Tabitha kept talking and laughing, her eyes sparkling with animation, her lips curving into what Elizabeth would have called a sultry smile.

  “She’s trying to make Nelson jealous,” Oscar Miller, who sat at Elizabeth’s right, explained as he tipped his soup bowl to catch the last spoonful of consommé. When they’d first been seated, Oscar had given Elizabeth a perfunctory greeting, then devoted himself to the woman on his right, but when Tabitha’s actions had left Elizabeth without a partner, he’d proven a gentleman and had tried to include Elizabeth in his conversation. Now, however, he’d turned ever so slightly and was addressing her directly.

  “Why would she want to do that?”

  Oscar’s hazel eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened. “Because then Nelson will buy her an expensive trinket. Mr. Mullen has a diamond bracelet that Tabitha wants. Nelson told her she’d have to wait until Christmas, so this is her revenge. She’s flirting with Jason to get her way.”

  Perhaps she had led a sheltered life, but Elizabeth had never encountered so brazen a woman. It was bad enough that Tabitha was trying to manipulate her husband, but openly flirting with another man when she was married—that was beyond Elizabeth’s experience. Oh, it was true that there had been unfaithful couples in several congregations where Papa had served, but they had tried to keep their liaisons secret. This seemed far worse, for Tabitha’s actions could only humiliate her husband. All for a diamond bracelet.

  “You look skeptical.” Oscar buttered a piece of bread as he spoke. “Trust me, it’s true. I spend enough time with both Chadwicks to know what’s happening. Now, if you want to get Jason’s attention, pretend you’re hanging on my every word.”

  “I don’t want Jason’s attention.”