“If you’re up to it, I think we can beat the storm home,” Cade said gruffly. His eyes shot to Richard, who still stood in close enough proximity to touch me, before returning to my over-exposed bosom.
“Yes, please,” I said, aware that all eyes were now upon me. I had never thought of myself as vain, so I was surprised at how unnerved I was by my disheveled and possibly comical condition. I gathered up my own wet dress and turned to Nellie. “Thank you for loaning me your dress. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to you.”
Cade draped his coat over my shoulders, murmuring something about a chill, and we dashed into the windswept yard.
Once we were settled inside the carriage, he turned toward me, a smile curving his handsome mouth. “What in the devil are you wearing?”
“A dress.” I could barely suppress my laughter.
“I don’t know if I would call that mess below the waist a dress, and the tiny bit of material at the top most definitely does not qualify.” His eyes rested on the display of cleavage afforded by the bodice, and I felt my face redden. He lifted his face to mine and studied me for a moment, his eyes dark with desire. “You still blush like you did when you were a girl.”
I pursed my lips, embarrassed by my lack of experience. “I’ve never learned to control it.”
“I sincerely hope you never do.” He stroked the hair curling about my shoulders. “It is quite becoming.”
“I am a confirmed spinster, Cade. I should have learned the art of self-control long ago.”
“I can’t get my mind around the thought of you as a spinster, Fee.”
“You must accept it. I have.” I cringed at how easily the lie slid from my lips.
“Why didn’t you ever marry?” His fingers brushed the skin of my throat and a shiver raced up my spine as my eyes slid closed.
“I had to care for my father.” It was the reason I had given for the last six years, but Cade chuckled softly. Of course, he recognized my lie and the purr of desire that tinged my voice.
His fingers continued their gentle, swirling exploration of my hair and throat, and I fought the urge to lean my head back, exposing the sensual curve of my throat to his hands and lips.
“Your father has been gone enough years, Ophelia. Surely you could have married since then, if not before. You certainly must have had suitors. You’ve been at Almenara only a week and you already have our stoic Dr. Scarborough acting like a besotted schoolboy.”
My eyes flew open, and I met his dark gaze. Was he toying with me? Did he want me to admit that my memories of him had kept me in their grip all these years, or to tell of the futile dreams I had dreamed as I lay alone in my childhood bed, knowing my sister lay in his? I wanted to demand he acknowledge that he knew why I was still alone, but instead I shrugged and spoke the truth for him to read into it what he would.
“I could never marry without love.”
Chapter Seventeen
It began to rain again as we pulled to a stop in front of Almenara, and Cade grabbed my hand as we rushed up the stone steps. The feel of his warm hand on mine brought back a rush of memories.
We had once taken a hackney to the New Orleans riverfront to watch the barges being unloaded. Unwilling to have the afternoon end with a quick ride back to the hotel, we decided to walk the distance. We ignored the darkening skies and distant thunder, and began our trek back hand in hand. Halfway there, the sky opened up and rain poured down upon us. We laughed and ran, as only the young will do, ignoring the grim warnings of the few old men we passed. Within moments, the wind picked up and the first hail rained down. I screeched when the icy pellets hit me, and Cade scooped me up over his shoulder. Both of us were still laughing as he hurried toward the one open door along the sidewalk.
The warehouse was dark and empty and smelled of the sea, but I hardly noticed any of that as Cade let me down. I slid down his body, feeling his desire match my own. He buried his hands in my hair, and lowered his mouth to mine. Our kisses there in the cool, unlit interior of the warehouse were far different from the ones we had shared before, which while not exactly chaste, had not been as passionate as those we shared in the salted darkness around us. I have never doubted that had a group of oystermen not chosen that moment to enter the warehouse, Cade and I would have consummated our love within its darkened depths.
As it was, we broke apart, waited out the storm with the others, and hurried to the hotel. It was upon our return to the hotel that Mrs. Dupree handed me the letter that would put Cade and Desi’s betrayal in motion. My sister would arrive by train two days later. Little did I know as I read her message that I would leave New Orleans and my dreams of the future behind shortly after her arrival.
Now, I stood on the porch of Almenara, a twenty-five-year-old virgin, my hand in Cade’s and the same girlish longings beating in my chest.
I pulled my hand away and dashed ahead of him, nearly colliding with Eleanor, who was pacing the foyer in agitation, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed from weeping.
“Ophelia!” she cried when she saw me. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” I murmured, trying to push past her. She placed a hand on my arm, and I stopped.
“And Devlin?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard the devastating worry in her voice. I realized then what I should have known all along. Eleanor was madly and inexplicably in love with Devlin.
“He’s fine,” Cade assured her. “The men looked for him, but they couldn’t find him. Nellie is pleading for them to let him alone, and I feel certain she’ll get her way. By tomorrow, it should all have blown over.”
Eleanor looked so relieved I feared she might faint, while I stared at him in surprise. It would all have blown over? As if what Devlin did to me was nothing? As if what Devlin said had been nothing? Was that why Cade could act so calm? Because he knew Devlin hadn’t intended to kill me? Was he so certain Devlin wasn’t a murderer—because he was?
Over his cousin’s head, our eyes met, and I wondered if the questions in his gaze were directed toward Eleanor’s distress or mine.
When Eleanor walked toward the stairs, I followed her, intent on getting away from Cade. I could not forget the way he had run his fingers through my hair, the way he had spoken to me in the carriage. I was the only one who had been certain of his innocence. What would he do to keep me on his side? Would he seduce me? Did he expect me to become so blinded by him that I overlooked the accusations, the evidence, and the opinion of every single person around us?
“Fee.”
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard him say my name, and I turned to him, silently commanding myself to ignore the injured tone.
He spoke so softly I barely heard him. “You aren’t the only one who remembers New Orleans.”
It was tempting to believe we could build a future on those memories, but I knew it was only a pretty lie. Whether it was intentional or not, those memories and every day between them and now was nothing but blood-soaked sand beneath our feet.
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it, Cade?” I asked. “Those days are long gone.”
I didn’t wait for his reply before hurrying up the stairs, nearly colliding with Eleanor and Lorraine, who both stood there just beyond the landing. I ignored Lorraine’s rather smug smile as well as Eleanor’s continued cries for Devlin’s safety. I wasn’t in any mood to speak with either of them, and was quite frightened I might take my frustration out on Eleanor if I had to listen to her natter on for one more moment.
“I hear you had quite the exciting day,” Lorraine said as I passed.
“Yes, quite,” I agreed without stopping.
“What on earth are you wearing?”
I looked down at the yellow dress. “My clothes were wet, so I borrowed Nellie’s dress.”
“I should have known. I sometimes wonder if Reverend Arnold didn’t find that silly chit in a brothel.”
I opened my mouth, intending to tell her exactly what I thought about her insults toward
Nellie, but decided it would do no good and clamped my mouth shut.
“Eleanor, perhaps you should rest,” I suggested. “I’m sure Cade will let you know if there’s any word of Devlin.”
“Cade will kill him if he finds him. He’s already said so,” she sobbed. “He was crazed with worry when he heard Devlin took you. Even Nellie couldn’t calm him.”
“Well, he can see for himself I’m fine. There’s no need for him to retaliate. Devlin did me no real harm. Like Cade said, by tomorrow it will all have blown over.”
“Devlin is quite mad,” Lorraine said, and lifted a hand to stop Eleanor’s protest. “I’m surprised he didn’t toss you over the railing of the lighthouse.”
I said nothing and she went on.
“I guess he isn’t quite as mad as Cade. As far as I know, Devlin’s never murdered anyone.”
“As far as I know, Cade hasn’t either,” I argued.
Her mouth curved into the smile I was coming to know.
“He’s been arrested for murder, Ophelia dear. And within the month, he’ll hang for it. No matter your feelings toward him, even you can’t be so blind to the writing on the wall.”
My stomach roiled at the similarities between her words and my own suspicions.
“Cade couldn’t have killed Desdemona,” I protested, but it sounded weak even to my own ears.
“Someone killed her. And as my husband has told you, Cade is the only person with any real motive at all.” She cocked one eyebrow, and I could imagine how convincing she’d been on stage. “At least that’s what everyone thought until now.”
“What does that mean?” But I knew what it meant. It meant she had noticed the attraction between Cade and me. It meant I could be a suspect in Desdemona’s death because, God help me, I was as in love with Cade today as I had always been.
“You know what it means, Ophelia.”
My temper flared, but I controlled the urge to slap the mocking smile off her face, straightened my spine and met her eyes.
“You’re right, Lorraine. It has been a very exciting day, and I find I am utterly exhausted. I think I’ll rest a while before supper.”
With that, I walked sedately to my room, my head held high until the door closed behind me. At the sound of the soft thud, the events of the day crashed down upon me, and I felt so dizzy and ill that I could hardly stand. I removed my dress, staggered to the bed, and rolled the quilt around me like a cocoon.
I didn’t wake until Dory came in to help me dress for dinner. My head was pounding, my appetite was nonexistent, and I was sorely tempted to make my excuses and skip dinner. I refused to give Lorraine that satisfaction, however, and instead had Dory do my hair in a much more elaborate style than normal. I pulled the dress of midnight blue silk from the wardrobe and let Dory help me slip it over my head. I prayed that tonight would not end with my fleeing the room as I had the last time I’d worn it. At least now I understood Cade’s anger, even if I was shocked that he thought me so devious that I would trick him into marrying Desi because she was pregnant.
“Are you sure you’re okay, miss?” Dory asked, peering over my shoulder at my reflection in the dressing table mirror. “You look a bit peaked.”
“I’m fine, Dory.” She was right, of course. I was quite pale and wan.
I had never been one for lip rouge and face paint, but my sister had always adored both, so I excused myself as soon as I was dressed and went to the room I knew had been hers.
Her dressing table was a mess, as I had expected it to be, and a wave of relief washed over me as I looked around. Several dresses were cast carelessly about, a haphazard stack of books leaned against the table by her bed, and a pair of shoes lay by the open wardrobe as if she had just stepped out of them. It was good to see that at least something about Desi had remained unchanged until the end. Nostalgia clung to me as I sank onto the small upholstered stool and rummaged through the clutter on the dressing table. I applied bright lip rouge to my mouth and imagined Desi sitting here, primping and posturing as she readied for the day ahead. The day she died.
I stared deep into the mirror, as if I could somehow see her there in my own reflection. Had she known the last time she’d sat here that it would be the final day of her life? Had there been any warning that someone wanted her dead? She had obviously dressed with care that day, casting aside her choices until she found the dress she ultimately wore. What had she worn the day she died? I wondered if she had intended to meet Devlin, if that was why she left the house early. Who had decided she would never step foot in this room again? And why?
Looking down at the dressing table, I reached for a monogrammed handkerchief that covered a small, soft-looking mound. I lifted it, expecting to find a wayward glove or stocking, and, if I was lucky, a bit of perfume.
A scream erupted from my throat and I pulled back quickly at the sight of the decomposing body of the barn swallow lying on the dresser, a porcelain hat pin thrust through its tiny chest.
“What the devil?” Cade was at my side in an instant, followed by Dory and Mrs. Hartley. I pointed to the bird, and he swore under his breath. “Mrs. Hartley, have someone remove the remains of that poor creature immediately.”
He gripped my elbow and hauled me from the room.
“What were you doing in her room?”
“I was looking for lip rouge,” I said, stammering when he scowled down at me. “I don’t have any, and I knew Desi would.”
“I don’t recall you wearing lip rouge.”
“I felt a bit peaked tonight. I thought it might help.”
Concern darkened his gaze and he took my chin in his hand, studying me closely. “Of course you feel peaked after the day you had. Still, I’ll send for the doctor.”
“No. I’m fine. It’s only my appearance that is a bit worse for the wear. We shouldn’t interrupt Richard’s supper for something as trivial as a bit of feminine vanity.”
“But you could be ill, and I’m certain he wouldn’t mind the interruption.”
I shrugged. “It’s more likely that I have a bit of a chill from being caught in the rain. Let’s wait and see. If I’m still out of sorts in the morning, you can send for him.”
“Very well,” he said after a second or two of consideration. “Are you ready to go down to supper now?”
I glanced down at the handkerchief in my hand. I was somehow able to keep my surprise silent as I realized that someone had written something on it. There was no time to read it now, not with Cade waiting to escort me to dinner, but I had a feeling it was important that I know what it said. Afraid I would misplace it or it would be noticed by someone at dinner, I lifted my face to Cade.
“I am feeling a bit chilled and would like to retrieve my shawl first.”
His eyes narrowed, and I knew he was considering whether he should go against my wishes and call for Richard. Before he could command that I go to bed and await the doctor’s arrival, I hurried to my room. When I realized he had followed me, I pulled my shawl from the back of the chair by the fireplace. My book lay open on the table, and I deftly slipped the handkerchief between the pages before snapping it shut and turning back to Cade.
He leaned against the doorjamb, his feet crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets. In that moment, the weary resolve seemed to have fallen away and he looked achingly young. Tears welled in my eyes, and I dashed them away. It was no use crying over what could not be changed.
He straightened as I walked toward him, and when I was close enough, he reached out and ran a gentle hand over my cheek to cup my jaw.
“Are you sure you feel like going down, Fee? No one would blame you if you didn’t.”
Lorraine’s tinkling laughter wafted down the hall, and I silently gathered myself.
“I’m fine,” I lied as I placed my hand in the crook of his arm. The fingers I wrapped around his warm bicep were the only part of me that wasn’t chilled to the bone.
I glanced into the framed mirror at the head of the stairs as w
e passed. No wonder Cade wanted to call the doctor. I wasn’t sure if my unnatural pallor was due to my earlier ordeal, an oncoming illness, or the garish red paint on my lips combined with the large raw spot where my cheek had scraped against the lighthouse wall. I nearly stopped and fled back to the sanctuary of my bedroom, but I heard Lorraine and Calvin talking behind us, and I had no choice but to proceed to the dining room if I didn’t wish to make a scene.
By the end of supper, I knew I was ill. My head swam, and I could feel the heat of my cheeks on my hand. My limbs felt weighted, and it was an effort to follow the conversation around me. When dessert was finally served, I placed my napkin on the table.
“If you all will excuse me, I think I will retire for the night.”
“You look positively ill,” Lorraine remarked.
“I really don’t feel very well,” I informed her, pushing myself to my feet.
I barely made it to the end of the table before my legs seemed to give way beneath me. I put a hand on the table and steadied myself.
I heard Cade’s chair scraped back from the table, and I shook my head. “I’m fine, Cade. You’ve hefted me around enough for one day. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I was able to exit the room with some dignity intact and pulled myself up the stairs, clinging to the banister. I was halfway up when I felt Cade’s strong arms sweep me off my feet. I hadn’t the strength to even cling to his neck as he carried me to the bedroom and pulled the bell pull. Laying me on the bed, he removed my shoes and stockings.
My protests were feeble at best, and I was as limp as a dishrag as he maneuvered me around, trying to unbutton my dress.
“Yes, miss?” Dory said brightly as she came in. A small gasp of surprise followed her greeting, and she hurried to the bed, shooing Cade away. “Get her a nightgown, Mr. Cade.”
I drifted in and out of wakefulness as Cade moved to the bureau and Dory instructed him on where to find a gown. Then he was back again, pulling me upright, his strong, warm arm encircling my waist.
When Swallows Fall Page 13