Broken Angel

by Nona Mae King

  His position across from her caused another twitch of Rachel’s eyebrow. “Driver, print shop please,” she directed absently, still watching Robert.

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Robert tightly crossed his arms as he continued to smile and regard her. “Yet another experience of fun that previously held none.”

  “I had noticed your smiles and occasional chuckle,” she offered, the fan opening to tease the air near her face with a slow motion of… curiosity and… absent thoughtfulness.

  She’s the loveliest when thoughtful, he decided as he briefly clenched a hand.

  “Yet I noticed, also, an occasional darkness when you believed I wasn’t watching.”

  Robert’s smile vanished. “Pardon?” Good night, old man! What to confess as to the reason? I can’t tell her--

  “You would have told me had the choice of wardrobe not been to your liking, correct?”

  Robert scrambled for calm and collection as he struggled a return of the smile and forced himself to hold her intense scrutiny. “Of course. I more than likely thought of my father and his reaction when he receives the letter sent this morning,” Robert lied, begging forgiveness as he did so.

  “You haven’t been concerned after his reactions to anything before this time,” Rachel countered, expression still thoughtful.

  “No, I suppose I haven’t.” This time he had to look away, and any other words wouldn’t come.

  “And again,” she observed, motioning toward him with her fan, now closed.

  Robert fisted both hands as he adjusted his crossed arms, gaze still blindly staring out the window. Honesty. Remember? You promised yourself honesty when talking with her. But was it appropriate after their limited acquaintance? Yes, he attempted to court and encourage an attraction, but… this confession? Robert released a slow breath before meeting her gaze. “Don’t ask after this expression, Rachel.” He shook his head. “Not this one.”

  She regarded him a moment before saying, “Robert, you know that I will press you to answer if the subject pertains to me.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged, enhancing the statement with a brief nod. “But you should know by now I won’t answer if there is a chance it will jeopardize the relationship we have.”

  Rachel’s eyebrow arched, the thoughtfulness making way to intrigue and curiosity that sparkled in green eyes. The expression heightened the intelligence and wit he knew to be always active. Robert swallowed hard and again looked away, the intensity of his attraction to her tightening his chest the same as it gave rise to the fear that his common-sense and desire to do the right thing wouldn’t be able to stand against the desire to know her.

  “I’ve caused more fear,” she observed.

  The statement didn’t surprise him, she’d been trained to correctly observe people and the meaning for their actions, but it caused tension and a slight blink. A sigh even before he risked meeting her gaze. Her green eyes showed a deeper intrigue and… regret.

  “I apologize, Robert. I didn’t realize that my aggression in the planning and preparation for the wedding would have a negative result on the expectation.”

  “Negati–” Robert sat up, arms and hands reaching toward her. “No, Rachel. That isn’t it at all.” But how did he explain the truth without heightening her suspicion and her reluctance to be near him?

  “Then why do I see fear in your expression?” she pressed. “I know very well of man’s affinity toward control and power, and yet I’ve taken all of these away from you, from day one, without thought to how it would affect our tentative friendship.”

  “Rachel, no,” Robert said again, more forceful and even shaking his head. “I’ve enjoyed not having to think and plan and plot and arrange. It’s been a treat and a… learning experience to watch you display your natural ability to lead and direct.” Robert reluctantly smirked, “If anything, it’s tickled that twisted portion of my humor for the merchants to believe I’m a spineless soon-to-be-husband whom prefers to have the woman wear the trousers.”

  “Then why have I seen fear? My own was due to the tenacity of my training and my desire to not appear tender-hearted, but you? Yes, you confessed to a previous fear of rejection, but this is different, and I haven’t been able to determine a reason for it. Especially not when you confess to the fun you’ve had.”

  Robert tried to answer, but the fact that she had attempted to find a reason for the fear before confronting him with it only made the desire and extreme attachment toward her burn all the brighter. He clenched his jaw and looked away as his hands moved to a tight grip of his knees.

  “La,” she said suddenly, tone calm and yet amazed. “It’s the attraction you mentioned before, isn’t it?”

  His hands tightened their grip. Rachel… Why must you be so brilliant? Robert released a quick breath. “Yes.” Then he faced her. Her expression of intrigue also harbored another… unknown one. An expression that seemed to be as unique as Rachel.

  “But why are you afraid of it? I’ve told you I’ve no reason to reject your advances.”

  The statement was the first naive comment he had ever heard from her lips. However, what made it the most difficult to accept was the fact that it was a true statement. “I know,” he admitted, tone carefully controlled, though it sounded odd to his own ears.

  “If you’ve a desire to kiss, there’s no reason for you to fear and restrain it,” she informed, the seriousness of her comment wreaking havoc on the calm and causing him to tighten the grip on his knees to a point of pain.

  “Rachel…” He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Rachel, I’d rather not follow-through with each desire and impulse. The fact that you accept its presence in my mind is appreciated, but don’t encourage an action. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  She arched an eyebrow for a dazzling display of continued intrigue and surprise. “The ones bestowed before seemed simple enough.”

  Robert’s smile wavered, but he forced it to remain. “Yes, well, I’d rather not risk a deeper reaction.”

  “A deeper reaction?” Rachel regarded him in that same calmly controlled manner before realization dawned and she said, “Ah yes. The different levels of a kiss, much as the handshake.”

  Gads! How can she be so calm? Robert momentarily clenched his jaw, causing the smile to become more tight-lipped than he would have liked, and causing also a chain-reaction of a raised eyebrow from Rachel.

  “In that is the fear,” she reasoned slowly.

  Robert fisted his hands, immediately loosening them to a forced lighter-grip of his knees. “Rachel, can we not talk about this right now? The day spent in your company - which I have thoroughly enjoyed - has tattered my resolve to… er… not kiss you.” Robert nearly rolled his eyes at the level of honesty he had committed himself to.

  “Then I suppose I shouldn’t confess my own curiosity at which level of passion you would choose and how it would be done?”

  The forced smile vanished and he swallowed hard. “Uh… no.” Lord… help…

  “I see,” she said, slowly inclining her head as she continued to regard him. Then she frowned and pressed her lips into a thin line, her green eyes sparkling as the emeralds he’d seen in the jeweler’s boutique. “The curiosity doesn’t like being set aside. It makes the desire to have the kiss all the greater.”

  Robert scrubbed at his scalp with both hands as he closed his eyes. “Yes, well, temptation is never anything but an enemy.”

  “So, rather than give in to the promise of a simple kiss that might lead to more, you restrain altogether?”

  “I try.” he said in a tight voice. No, old man. No. Though her intrigue made the want worse. Though her acceptance and attempt to understand his struggle made the desire burn greater. Though his own intrigue with the type of person she showed herself to be created a deeper emotion that should have been impossible… He scrubbed at his scalp again before releasing a deep breath and forcing himself to meet her gaze, which regarded him closer than ever before. “So
metimes it’s easier to resist than others.”

  “Yes. I’ve noticed that of myself,” she admitted.

  Robert blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Rachel’s cheeks flushed as she looked away and teased the air with gentle strokes of her fan. “The desire to be kissed or to kiss. It’s annoying enough to have it come unbidden, although I’m certain the flirtation is the reason for it, but for it to overpower thoughts of anything else and nearly force myself to act upon it? Yes. It’s easier to resist some times more than others.”

  The confession of the desire and her own struggle with a temptation had been completely unexpected, and it definitely didn’t lessen his own.

  “I suppose it’s my own fault for keeping myself distant from the presence of men while in France,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t force myself to smile and laugh when their blatant shallowness caused nausea.” Rachel scoffed. “Believing practiced words would make my heart go aflutter.” She scoffed again. “You give more flutter with your attraction to my person rather than my supposed beauty, annoying as it is to be accepted for myself as a whole.” The comment was finished with a sidelong smirk his direction.

  Robert accepted the smile and returned a more boyish one of his own. He couldn’t help but feel at ease around her. She understood him as no one ever had. His humor. The workings of his mind. The logic of his views of life and business… “I’m glad that I have that effect on ladies of business the same as ladies of frills and fancy,” he said in a low voice.

  Rachel chuckled softly and then closed her fan and fully focused on him to motion toward him with it. “And I apologize for my over-attentiveness within the boutique. I noticed your… discomfort and yet performed the actions anyway. Curiosity can be both demon and angel, apparently.”

  Robert’s mouth gaped. Then his lips lifted in one corner. “So you plotted that little demonstration with the hands, did you? That wasn’t very nice at all, especially not in light of my recent confessions of attraction.”

  Rachel lowered her gaze and absently picked at her fan. “Yes. I know. Research of that kind shouldn’t have been surrendered to, and yet…” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “I admit that the curiosity was more aimed at myself and how it would feel than how you would react to it.”

  The confession caused a tightening to his chest and his throat. To all intents and purposes it seemed as if she were… pursuing an attraction toward him.

  “I should have given your feelings more than a passing thought.” Rachel met his gaze. “I am sorry, Robert.”

  Robert offered her an encouraging smile as he leaned back into the corner of the carriage, his right arm resting along the back of the velvet-cushioned seat. “I accept your apology, Rachel. Thank you for offering it.”

  Her slight smile returned, as did the graceful movement of her fan. Then the seriousness returned and she began discussing the ideas had for the invitations and place cards for all. Robert listened and responded as appropriate, the smile settling deeper within as the struggle against the draw was set to one side. And so where do I go from here, Lord? Keep on as I have; one step at a time while allowing her to lead? Leading her also with gentleness and firmness, honesty and encouragement? He could only pray that wherever he went, she would be there beside him.

  ~~~

  Rachel handed Oliver her hat and gloves. “Oliver,” she greeted.

  “Good evening, Miss. I sincerely hope your errands went well.”

  Rachel cast Robert a sidelong glance as he came to stand beside her, shrugging out of his overcoat and then presenting them to Oliver without noticing her scrutiny. “Very well, thank you. Dinner?”

  “Is ready and waiting, Miss. Dining nook or the upper parlor?”

  Accepting Robert’s help from her overcoat, she couldn’t keep the continued small smile from her lips. “Upper parlor, I think. I don’t wish to be bothered by Father’s negative moods.”

  “Yes, Miss, though the Master is at an evening appointment and doesn’t expect to be back until late.”

  A blink of surprise preceded her “Another appointment?”

  “Yes, Miss,” and Oliver seemed to wait for more demands upon his person.

  Silent regard on Robert’s behalf did nothing to ease her own curiosity and mild suspicion. “Oliver, what has been the point to all these appointments?”

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t say, Miss.”

  Rachel’s eyebrow arched. “You couldn’t say?” she repeated.

  “No, Miss,” and his expression remained calm and patiently waiting.

  She felt a slight nudge from Robert at her right and let the subject pass with a simple, “All right. Thank you, Oliver.”

  “Certainly, Miss. I shall have the stewards bring dinner up.” He turned to go.

  Rachel focused on Robert. “He couldn’t say,” she repeated. “Oliver hasn’t ever said something as specifically revealing as that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I’m not to know something, Oliver has always been the best at keeping me from having any suspicion that anything secretive is amiss.” She motioned after him. “That comment deliberately intrigued me, and he knows I’ll ask.”

  Robert smirked. “Intelligent gentleman, that.”

  The seriousness retreated from the return of the smile. “Yes. Always.”

  He offered her his arm. “Upper parlor?”

  “Across from my room,” she directed as she accepted his arm and fell into step beside him. “Haven’t you been given a tour?”

  “Can’t say that I have, though I suppose it was a deliberate attempt by your father to put me in a mood. He knows which nerves to hit and just how strongly.”

  Rachel gave a wry grimace. “Yes. I seem to have taken after him in that regard.”

  Robert laughed. “You’re not as bad as that, Rachel. I find you charm itself.”

  “Hm. I wonder at that. You seem to find a great many things ‘charm itself’; your person included.”

  Robert’s expression grew thoughtful. “I hadn’t noticed that. I should imagine a different phrase then for you. One that sounds more impressive than ‘charm itself’.” One side of Rachel’s lips twitched as she continued to face forward. Robert suddenly waved a hand, drawing her gaze. “Ah well, I’m certain something will present itself in the midst of a tender moment.” He sent her a wink.

  Which Rachel accepted with another slight smirk and only a brief meeting of his gaze. Instead, she retrieved her arm from his hand at the crest of the stairs and motioned down the hall to the right toward the room across from hers. “Father most often uses the room directly off his, titled the upper study. My mother’s room of choice was the sitting room below. The upper parlor was most commonly used for reading, light meetings between my mother and one or two friends, or for imaginary tea parties.”

  “Imaginary tea parties?” Robert repeated, watching her profile as they continued toward the room.

  “Certainly. Maggie and I couldn’t entertain the President’s wife in Father’s study. Too dark and mysterious.” Her sidelong glance intercepted his soft smile and felt a tingle within.

  “I see.” Then Robert focused on the opening of the door and the revelation of the elegantly furnished room beyond.

  A simple couch with a wooden scalloped back off-set by two matching over-stuffed chairs and a simple claw-foot cherry wood table in the center. Bookshelves. A writing desk. An oriental rug. Oil landscapes. Lightly patterned drapes pulled back from tall windows that tickled the room with life and light. Rachel took in a slow breath and released it. Peering into the room felt as if she looked back at pleasant memories of a good friend and a better self. A time of laughter and safety. A time of dreams and romantic visions of futures. A time when Rachel had been ‘Rachel’ and not ‘Miss Samson’.

  Robert enfolded her hand with his, the simple action doing so much more than what she had thought it could. “Your hideaway,” he said softly.

  Rachel released another breath and then pulle
d her hand from his, still regarding the shifting within with muted and highly controlled suspicion. She stepped into the room toward the couch. “I suppose you could classify it as such at one point in time. I always seemed to find my way here when Mother and Father had guests.”

  Silence fell for barely a moment before Robert followed. “Yes. I seem to recall hearing you were shy as a girl.”

  Rachel sat at the couch and watched as he lowered himself into the chair across from her. The expression he offered was a small and understanding smile. You are too understanding, she wanted to tell him. It causes the suspicion. Instead, she lowered her gaze to the table between and retrieved a sheaf of papers and pencil from a side-drawer. “Shy. Timid. Fearful. Classify it as you like. I hid from life.” Now it seems to overwhelm me with choices I’m unable to make. She briefly pressed her lips together.

  “Let’s not worry after the invitation to my parents,” Robert said, drawing her focus. “I’ll send them a wire either tomorrow or the day after.” He smiled his usual boyish grin. “I need to give Father a time to cool off.”

  A reluctant smile softened her expression. “Ah yes. The stretch of independence and controlling of your own destiny.”

  He winked. “Exactly.” He crossed his arms as he watched her. “My thought is that I’ve chosen the better one.”

  “I shall do my best not to disappoint,” Rachel teased, drawing two columns onto the paper and labeling one ‘bridesmaids’ and the other ‘groomsmen’.

  “Act yourself and I’m certain bliss will be the only memory.”

  Rachel smirked. “Bliss? My, my. That is a tall order.”

  “For my Angel?” Robert smirked. “Please. Don’t be so modest.”

  Rachel looked up. “Whom is to be best man? Your friend?”

  Robert nodded, lounging back into the chair and draping a leg over the arm. “Yes. Damon Childers. I haven’t yet heard back from him. He’s likely struck dumb in shock.” Robert retrieved his pipe from the inner pocket of his suit coat and placed it between his teeth. “I had thought to ask Mr. Richards to be one of the groomsmen, but realized I should ask you first. Is that all right?”