She looked over at Marcus. He sat there gloating, like he knew something that she would die to know. It was probably just some new bit of gossip, but her interest was somewhat piqued.
“Okay, dear brother, what have you done to deserve my praise yet again?” She would play his game for a while.
“Well,” he said wittily, “it was all very coincidental actually.” He paused in an effort to build her suspense.
“Marcus, you have already captured my interest. You’ve no need to toy with me,” she protested.
“If you insist, dear sister,” he said triumphantly. “Well, I was at the bank today.” He paused. “You know, I go there quite frequently. One might think I actually worked there.” He laughed at himself. “Well, actually I do, don’t I?”
“Marcus, please!” He was really in a mood today.
“Well, since, you said ‘please,’ my pet, I will try and ‘please’ you.” Once again he laughed at his joke. “As I said, I was at the bank this morning, when I noticed that Mr. Griffin, the bank manager, was in a very foul mood. So, being the concerned employee that I am, I approached him and said, ‘Why hello, Mr. Griffin.
What a wonderful day we are having today, are we not?’ Now, we all knew he was most certainly not having a good day. He had been short and cross with everyone, including the patrons who happened onto him. He turned and gave me a glare.”
Marcus, ever the actor, changed his facial expression to act the part of Mr. Griffin. Jillian couldn’t help but laugh.
“Honestly, Marcus, sometimes I’d swear you are still a boy. I would think that you would not want to irritate your employer, especially if he was in a foul mood.”
“Now, Sis, don’t go getting your feathers ruffled. I knew what I was doing. Would you like me to continue?” he said in a teasing manner.
“Yes, please do, dear brother of mine.”
“Well, see, now that’s better.” Marcus returned to his imitation of Mr. Griffin once again. “ ‘And what, may I ask, is so wonderful about today?’ Mr. Griffin replied to me—very tersely, I might add. So I pulled a chair up next to him, sat down and asked, ‘Why don’t you tell me about your day? I’ve heard it said that if you get it off your chest, it makes you feel better.’
“He looked at me very doubtfully and I expected him to send me away. Instead, he nodded his head and said, ‘All right, young Mr. Grey, I’ll give it a try. You see, I have been working on this account for months now, and some very vital and confidential paperwork was set to leave by courier this afternoon to Boston. However, the courier company sent me a message a little over an hour ago stating that two of their most trusted couriers had taken ill, and they would not be able to transport my package until the day after next.’
“ ‘I can see why you’re so upset,’ I replied, ‘and I forgive you for losing your temper with me but a little while ago.’ ”
Jillian gasped. “Marcus, you didn’t!”
Marcus chuckled. “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure you were still listening. Now, now, I am trying to tell a story here,” he said as Jillian reached over and swatted him on the shoulder. “ ‘Marcus,’ he told me, ‘I have a half mind to send you to deliver my package.’
“ ‘Well, Mr. Griffin,’ I told him, ‘that isn’t half a bad idea at all . . . if it will get me out of a couple of days of work. He reached out, shook my hand, and said, ‘It’s a deal, my dear boy. You can use the bank’s carriage and the bank will pay your hotel for the night. Go home and ready your things. I’ll send Williams over to pick you up in an hour.’
“So, by my calculations, Williams will be here in about twenty minutes.” Marcus looked down at his pocket watch. Jillian rushed over to him and grabbed his hands.
“You will take me with you, won’t you, Marcus? Then I can see Nathan! I know what hotel he’s staying at.” She looked up at him hopefully.
“Well, now that all depends, Little Sis.”
“On what?” Jillian cried.
“On whether you can be ready in twenty minutes.” He grinned teasingly.
“You know I can!” With that, Jillian kissed her brother on the cheek and dashed upstairs to pack.
Jillian couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t complain about the distance to Boston. Marcus was good company, and he had kept her in stitches most of the way, telling her stories and little tidbits of the latest gossip. They had arrived in town a little after sundown, and Marcus had delivered his package straight away.
“Marcus, I’m starving,” Jillian said when her brother climbed back into the carriage. “Let’s go to Nathan’s hotel and get registered. Then we can find his room and invite to him go to dinner with us.” Truthfully, Jillian was a little nervous about surprising Nathan, but she was his betrothed. There could be no harm in it.
“Anything your heart desires, dearest sister.” He gave the driver the address of the hotel.
Butterflies had taken over her stomach by the time they arrived at the hotel. Marcus helped her out of the carriage, and Jillian grabbed his hand and walked anxiously to the registration desk.
“How may I help you?” the hotel clerk offered.
“We are in need of a room for the night,” Marcus replied. The clerk looked Jillian over appraisingly and winked at Marcus.
“I believe I have the perfect room for you.” Marcus, quickly catching the misunderstanding, corrected the clerk’s misguided thoughts.
“We would like two separate rooms, adjoining please; my sister here snores and will keep me up half the night if I am not at least twenty feet away from her.” Jillian jabbed him in the ribs. He was forever embarrassing her in front of people.
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. He tried to hide his embarrassment by looking closely in his registry book. “I have two rooms joined by a parlor. Will that be sufficient?”
“Yes, indeed.” Marcus signed the book and took the key.
Jillian took the opportunity to address the clerk. “I was wondering if you would ring Mr. Nathan Shaw’s room for me. I am Miss Jillian Grey, his fiancée.” The clerk looked startled for a moment but recovered quickly.
“I’m sorry, Miss Grey, but Mr. Shaw is already out for the evening,” he informed her. Jillian’s face fell.
“Out, did you say? Do you know where he might have gone? Maybe we could join him.” The clerk looked nervous, and Jillian was confused. Where would Nathan be spending his evenings out in a bustling town like this? Surely business hours were over by this time of night.
“I’m sorry, miss, but he did not disclose that information to me.”
Jillian felt that the man was being less than honest but quickly brushed it aside. What reason would the clerk possibly have to lie to her? She would just have to wait for Nathan to return and explain. She and Marcus would have dinner in the hotel restaurant and wait for him in their rooms.
“Thank you, sir.” She started to leave, but as an afterthought, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper that she took from the counter and handed it to the clerk. “Would you please give this to Mr. Shaw when he returns, and could you tell me what room he is staying in?”
“Yes, miss.” The clerk flipped though the registry book and wrote the room number on a piece of paper.
“Thank you.” Jillian forced a smile and put the piece of paper with Nathan’s room number in her handbag. Meanwhile, she watched the clerk take the message she handed him and put it in the box with Nathan’s room key.
Two hours later, Jillian paced the floor in the parlor that joined her room with Marcus’s. She could hardly recall what she’d eaten for dinner. When she discovered that Nathan wasn’t in, she’d lost most of her appetite and consequently had not paid much attention to the food that had been placed before her. Where could Nathan be? she wondered. What does one do in a town like this to entertain oneself? Nathan wasn’t a drinker or a gambler, so thankfully the drinking houses and taverns were out. Marcus wasn’t being much help. He told her he was sure Nathan had a perfectly good reason for being ou
t and that she needn’t worry. He had purchased a copy of the Bostonian and was currently entertaining himself by reading the society page in the winged chair by the fire. Every so often, he interrupted her thoughts to share some tale, or she would hear him laughing lightheartedly.
“Oh, I’m going to bed,” Jillian finally said. She was exasperated with both Nathan’s absence and Marcus’s lack of concern about it. “If you hear from Nathan, please wake me, Marcus.” She bent and kissed her brother on the cheek. “I don’t know why I even bother. What is it with you men? You don’t seem the slightest bit concerned, yet I’m sure I won’t sleep a wink!” She stomped her foot and marched off to her room.
“Temper, temper, Little Sis! Stomping your foot never did get you anywhere.” Jillian slammed her door and heard him laugh heartily after her.
Jillian threw herself on the bed. All of her anticipation for the evening she’d built on the long journey had been deflated. Too frustrated to cry, she got up and dressed for bed, looking about the room as she did. It was a an extremely nice room, although much too expensive, she was sure. Of course, the bank was paying the bill. Not that she couldn’t afford such a room herself, it was quite the contrary, actually—her parents were very well off—Jillian just had an aversion to squandering money frivolously. Marcus, on the other hand, enjoyed the niceties and privileges of the wealthy, despite all his making fun of them. He was never wasteful or prideful though, which added to his good character. That was also another reason he worked at the bank. He was allotted a monthly allowance from their parents, like most of the other wealthy and spoiled socialites, so he didn’t need to work. But Marcus wasn’t spoiled, nor did he feel comfortable taking an allowance from his parents to spend on idle pleasantries. Impressively, if he wanted something expensive, he would pay it from his own salary.
Jillian finished dressing, slipped under the silky blankets, and closed her eyes, but, as she expected, sleep would not come. Her mind kept wondering where Nathan could be. Why didn’t he tell anyone where he was going? What if someone had come to call? But, that was silly. He certainly wouldn’t have been expecting her to show up in Boston. Marcus was probably right. He would have a good explanation as to where he was. It was not his fault she had shown up unannounced. She would stop worrying and get some rest. If not, she would surely look a fright in the morning.
Determined to cease her worrying, Jillian forced herself to relax and finally fell into a fitful sleep, but it did not last long. It was just after eleven o’clock when she woke again. Soft moonlight streamed through the fine lace curtains. The fire had gone out in her room, and she was uncomfortably chilly. It was only March, and the nights still got cold. She looked over at the hearth and saw that the wood box was empty. She had intended to have Marcus bring some wood in from the parlor, but that was before she’d stormed off. She’d been so irritated at her situation, and Marcus hadn’t given her an ounce of sympathy. Jillian threw her blankets back and put on her robe. She would just have to get some herself.
As soon as Jillian opened the door to the parlor, a rush of warm air immediately brushed past her, causing her to shiver involuntarily from the change in temperature. Marcus must have stayed up quite a while after she had retired and kept the fire going. As she started to make her way over to get some wood, she heard a woman giggle obnoxiously, followed by a man’s voice, deep and caressing, in the hall outside their room. Jillian shivered again, not from the cold, but because there was something vaguely familiar about the man’s voice.
Something—maybe curiosity, maybe the churning feeling that had begun in her stomach—drew her to the door. Very quietly, she opened it just a crack and peered down the hall. In the dim light, she saw an attractive woman with her back against the door to a room up the hallway. She toyed with the lace on her bodice as a man leaned in closely to her. The man wore a hat, preventing Jillian from seeing but a small portion of the side of his face. The man leaned in closer, whispered something, and then brushed his lips against her ear. The woman laughed again and reached up, taking his hat from his head, but Jillian still couldn’t see his face clearly.
Mesmerized by the scene before her, Jillian knew she had no right to intrude on the private interlude between these two lovers, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She and Nathan had never shared intimate moments such as this. The man leaned in again, and the woman seductively caught his lower lip with her mouth.
Jillian almost wished that she had courage enough to entice Nathan with an intimate move like that. The gesture having done its job, the man then took the woman instantly into his arms, crushing her body to his, and kissed her with a heated passion that caused Jillian to gasp silently and a blush to rise to her cheeks, merely being a witness to it.
Jillian stepped back from the door momentarily. I shouldn’t be watching this! Jillian thought. She had been raised to respect a person’s privacy, but witnessing the woman’s forwardness with this man piqued her curiosity, and she was drawn back to the door. She would only watch a moment more.
The man breathed heavily as he ended his impassioned kiss. He paused, looking deeply into the woman’s eyes. He leaned forward again, and Jillian saw the woman quiver in anticipation of his kiss. When their lips met, he began fumbling with the key in the lock of his door. Jillian again felt a blush rush to her face. He broke the kiss and began lightly caressing her neck with his lips as he finally managed to unlock the door.
“Let’s go inside, Lorelei,” he coaxed while trying to maneuver her into the room. “Just for a little while.” The woman was still trembling from his kiss, but Jillian saw her body stiffen. She straightened herself as if preparing to hold her ground.
“Now, you know very well that I’m not that kind of girl,” the woman answered firmly.
“Oh, come now, Lorelei, I just want to kiss your delicious lips a little more in private. I wouldn’t try anything improper, even though we are engaged now.” So they’re going to being married, Jillian thought. With his arms around the woman’s waist, the man tried to coax the woman into the room again. This time, she pulled away from him with determination, which seemed to make the man angry, but he quickly recovered himself.
“You won’t have to wait too much longer,” the woman said. “I absolutely detest long engagements.” She reached behind her and took his hands from her waist. She held them out in front of her and stepped back out of the doorway and into the hall while giving him a teasing smile. “You just need to learn a little more patience.” The man mumbled something Jillian could not quite hear.
The young woman leaned in for one last lingering kiss and turned to walk down the hall, away from Jillian. As she did, she turned her head back momentarily, smiled a satisfied smile, and called over her shoulder, “I’ll share your bed as soon as you marry me, Nathan Shaw, and not a moment before.”
Jillian shut the door quickly and leaned her back against it. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Had she heard the woman right? She shook her head, as if trying to rid it of the sound of her betrothed’s name coming from the lips of another woman.
It couldn’t be Nathan. Not her Nathan! Could there be another Nathan Shaw staying at this hotel? No . . . what would be the chance of that? Her thoughts whirled back to the man’s voice. It had sounded vaguely familiar, but she had never heard Nathan speak in such soft, seductive tones as this man had.
Just then, she remembered the paper with Nathan’s room number on it. She had tossed it into her handbag without looking at it as soon as the clerk had handed it to her, thinking that when they returned from dinner, she would go to his room and see if he was there.
Jillian bolted to her room, lit the lamp, and searched around. Where had she laid her handbag when she had come in from dinner? Looking about the room, she saw it sitting on the night table. Quickly, she tore it open to retrieve the paper. Unfolding it, she saw a 38. She felt a jolt within her. Hers and Marcus’s room numbers were 34 and 35.
Jillian left her room and walked
to the door that led into the hallway again. She paused with her hand on the door handle. With great trepidation, she once again opened the door and peered down the hall. It seemed to be empty—not a soul in sight—so she quickly stepped outside, leaving the door open behind her. Jillian took a deep breath and started inching slowly down the hall, keeping close to the wall, reading silently to herself the numbers on the doors as she passed them . . . 36 . . . 37 . . . she knew before she even looked at the door that her worst fears had been confirmed. She didn’t want to believe it. Through the tears that were streaming down her face, Jillian looked up at the number 38 on the door the man had disappeared through moments before.
Though her heart felt as if it had been crushed, a feeling of anger overtook her. She suddenly wanted to pound on the door and see his face, but as she raised her hand to do so, she heard him humming a tune on the other side of the door. Instead of knocking, she covered her face with her hands and crumbled to the floor. Unashamed, she let her tears flow freely. Her body was wracked with uncontrollable but quiet sobbing.
How could he do such a thing? She loved him! She had trusted him! How could he betray her like this? How had she not seen what kind of man he truly was? He had not only fooled her, but had misled her entire family. Her anger finally returned, and she harshly brushed the tears from her face. Jillian would never think of Nathan Shaw again with anything but contempt and loathing. Standing back up, she quickly escaped back to the parlor and secured the door firmly. She shivered. The parlor was cold now; all its warmth having escaped into the hall when she’d left the door open. Jillian walked hastily to her room, locked it, and leaned against the door for support. She had been awakened this night to the world and all the ugliness that could exist in it. Her dreams and hopes for the future had been stripped from her. There, sitting in the cold, having lost faith and hope in love, she gave in to the despair. Her body no longer fought the chill but embraced it, and she felt the icy fingers of hate and mistrust grab hold of and slowly lay claim to her heart.
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