“You want to tell me who he is? I could beat the tar out of him for you.”
“I wish you could. But he’s not in Spring and I have no idea where he is.”
“Are you going to look for him?”
“No. That’s unseemly in a woman, don’t you think? I’m going away for a while to see a little more of this world.”
He smoothed her lovely flaxen hair. “I want you to be happy, Eliza. You sure as hell deserve it.”
“You, too, Riley. You, too.
Chapter Sixteen
Within a week, Elijah Prentice was six feet under, his daughter had publicly broken off her engagement with Riley Dalcourt, and she had nearly finished packing up her trunks.
“I don’t know Doc. She won’t say where she’s going.” Riley sat in the surgery, drinking coffee, thinking about the many conversations he’d had with Eliza in the past few days, many of which centered on settling his debt with her. He wanted to pay her back, for the tuition and for his parents’ mortgage. At first, she’d waved any such discussion away with a flit of her hand, but in the end, she’d spoken plainly.
“Your monetary obligation never meant anything to me. I only set it up that way because I knew you were so damned honor bound that I could use it to hold on to you as long as I needed. Even with Sophie Malloy’s unexpected arrival.”
He flushed. He didn’t like talking about Sophie with Eliza. After all, he’d two-timed his fiancée and he’d done wrong, terribly wrong, by Sophie. He hoped he could make it up to her now that he was free. He was anticipating that moment when he arrived back in San Francisco, knocked on her door, and told her she was the sole woman in his life.
“What’s that grin for, Riley? Just the mention of her name?” Eliza asked.
“I guess so.” He squirmed on the porch seat, crossing his arms.
“I knew you’d fallen for her, even at the beginning. That’s why I had her and Dan over. I had to make sure she was good enough for you when I let you go.” Sitting on the railing, she swung her legs back and forth.
“Seriously, Eliza, you are a piece of work. Tell me what I can do for you?”
“First, become a great doctor, then be happy. If you choose to be happy with Sophie, that’s all right by me.”
“When I’m a doctor, I can pay you back everything I owe you, and I will.”
“How about you set up some sort of fund in my name?” She tapped her cheek. “Yes, I rather like that idea. Something along the lines of The Eliza Prentice Poor People’s Medical Care Fund.”
Riley laughed. “Well, it’s rather a long name, but I think I can work on it. It’s a great idea.” He stood up and took her hand. “I’m going to miss having you in my life, Eliza.”
“I know.”
And the next day, with a kiss on his cheek and a wave of her gloved hand, she was gone, her furniture all covered in cloth and a housekeeper to tend to the rest.
“Wherever she’s gone,” Doc said, “she’ll do all right. Don’t you think?”
Riley shrugged. He had more respect for Eliza than he’d ever had before, and he hoped she found happiness. But she was not the woman uppermost in his mind. He was eager to get back to San Francisco and claim Sophie, and maybe punch Philip if he could think of any possible reason for doing so—like because the man was breathing.
“What about you?” Doc asked.
“What about me?” Riley was glad Doc couldn’t read his mind.
“I’m not getting any younger.” Doc shook his head. “I can’t believe I just said that.” He scratched his chin. “I love what I do, but I can’t do it forever.”
Riley felt everything in him tighten. Eliza’s freedom to jump on a train bound for anywhere was something he envied. He had a feeling his path was narrowing right back to Spring. And that, in itself, might cost him the woman he loved. For love Sophie Malloy he did, and now, at last, he could tell her. But drag her back to Spring City? That didn’t sit well.
“You only have a few months left, right?” Doc already knew the answer.
“Yup,” Riley agreed and sipped his coffee again. Less than that and he’d be a doctor.
“And then your plans are . . . ?”
Doc was going to make him say it.
“I’m going to come back here and work with you until you’re ready to retire.” The words were hardly out of his mouth and Riley felt regret, tinged with fear that his destiny was not one that Sophie would want to be a part of.
Doc exhaled a big breath. “I have to admit I was hoping you were headin’ in that direction. Sarah wants to travel a bit, you know, before we get too old. And I would be sorely pained to leave my patients in the wrong hands.”
“You brought a lot of them into this world.”
“They’re like family, like you are.”
Riley managed a thin smile though his gut was churning. “Then we’re settled.”
*****
He was an absolutely unattached free man for the first time in nearly three years, and all Riley wanted was to attach himself immediately to Sophie. However, as he arrived back in San Francisco, his head and his heart were conflicted. Dropping off his bag at home, he stopped to wash up and dress in his good clothes; Riley was determined to put his best foot forward, considering his abominable behavior when he left Sophie weeks earlier.
Though his mind had gone back a million times to making love to Sophie, causing his body to react powerfully each time to the memory, he knew it had been disgraceful to take her innocence and then leave her. If any other man had treated her such, he’d have taken his head off. But he loved her. He could admit it now. Better yet, he could tell her—without any sense of guilt or wrongdoing. Except . . . what if his loving her was not what was best for her?
He entered The Grand on quick feet and went up the stairs, two at a time. But a knock at her door brought no answer. He pulled out his pocket watch. Where would she be at three in the afternoon?
A few minutes later he was at the concierge desk at The Palace.
“Mr. Hull, may I see Carling Rilkers, please?”
Egbert smiled but it faltered and then disappeared entirely as he realized with whom he was speaking.
“Ah, Miss Rilkers. She’s here and about somewhere. With a guest, I expect.”
“Can you find her? I need her help. I’m looking for Sophie Malloy.”
Egbert looked pained. “Right. Miss Malloy. Well, Carling would know that for certain.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “So, you’re back.”
Riley nodded then said, “Obviously.”
“And your fiancée?” Egbert looked past Riley as if he thought she’d pop up any moment.
Riley’s placid face clouded over. “Look, I need to find Sophie and I’d like to do it sooner rather than—”
“Riley Dalcourt,” Carling’s voice rang out across the lobby. Riley turned. Finally, he’d get some answers. But instead of her usual cheeky and welcoming smile, she looked thunderous as she stalked across the carpeted floor toward him.
“So there you are, sniffing about here after over a fortnight’s absence.” She crossed her arms.
“Carling, can you tell me where Sophie is, please?”
“Why? Haven’t you caused her enough heartache?”
He blanched. Had Sophie told Carling about their tryst in her room? The women were good friends, but he somehow hadn’t thought Sophie was the type to want to disclose her business, particularly when it didn’t reflect well on either of them.
“Speechless now, eh?” Carling continued.
“Carling, please,” Egbert broke in. “Perhaps you should tell Mr. Dalcourt here—”
“Oh, I’ll tell him all right. She’s gone. My good friend has up and left San Francisco.”
“Gone?” He felt his heart start to hammer. “Gone where?”
“Off on her engagement tour.” Carling had a sour look on her face.
“Her engagement . . .” He trailed off. Shit! How could it be? He’d just assumed she would
be here, especially after what they’d shared. But of course, . . . she wouldn’t be waiting for him. He had given her no reason to wait and many reasons not to. He looked away from Carling’s hostile gaze and ran his hand through his hair. Then he shook his head.
“It won’t do you any good. You can’t shake it off,” Carling said. “That ship has sailed.”
“When did she leave?”
“Yesterday.”
Christ! That was like another punch in the gut. “You’re joking!” Had he really been so close to catching her? He could barely breathe.
“Nah, I wish I was. Easy as you please, since The Overland’s ticket office is right here in this hotel. Still, she’s in good hands,” Carling added. “That Mr. Wainright was smitten and ready to make her his wife.”
Riley was reeling, as though he was on a runaway coach with no one holding the reins. He turned on his heel and started to walk away. He heard Carling make a clucking sound behind him. He stopped and swore under his breath before facing Carling and Egbert again.
“Where did they go?”
Carling’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I tell you?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Talk to her,” Carling spat out. “Why don’t you talk to your fiancée? Go on with you. Leave Sophie alone.”
Riley did not want to get into his personal feelings in the middle of the lobby of The Palace, but it seemed he had no choice.
“I . . . care for Sophie.”
Carling expelled her breath in a big puff. “Too late,” she muttered.
“She’s engaged now,” Egbert pointed out. “And she seemed very happy to go home.”
Carling glared at Egbert.
“Home? They went back to Boston?”
“She has a diamond ring on her finger and all,” Carling said.
“Carling,” Egbert warned.
“Well, she will when she gets back to Boston.”
“It seems I missed a lot.” Riley paused, letting it sink in as he stared at the tiled floor. “I’m too late.” He was back in San Francisco and Sophie was lost to him.
“You won’t do anything rash now, will you, chum?” Egbert asked.
Riley knew what the man was thinking. That he might jump on the next train and go after her, or simply jump off the nearest bridge. But she’d made a choice. Her old love who’d broken her heart had come back and redeemed himself, reclaiming her, removing the pain and humiliation, and apparently she’d fallen for him again.
And, perhaps, when Sophie had let Riley make love to her, it had exorcised for her the tempting what-ifs that had been hanging between them since their first meeting in Spring City. Maybe their encounter hadn’t been for her as incredible as it had been for him. By now, she might have already experienced the same with Philip.
Riley would never know. He’d made it clear to her that she was none of his business. Now, he’d have to live with it.
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie could not ignore the little voice inside of her one minute longer. Right after they pulled out of Chicago’s Union Depot, she jumped up, made her excuses to Philip, and fairly ran the length of the train. Ignoring people’s stares, she continued her flight until she opened the caboose door and stepped onto the metal platform. It was cold and windy and she leaned back against the door, clutching her mantle around her. The clackety-clack was so loud she could scream if she wanted and not hear her own voice.
She looked at the track stretching out behind her, all the way to San Francisco. How she loved that city! Only months earlier, she’d fled Spring and welcomed her new start. Now, it was over and she was headed home. Not exactly triumphant, either. She’d managed to be no more than a piano player in a bar, but at least she’d done it on her own. Freddie Vern, dear Freddie, had seen something in her. She’d hated telling him she was leaving for good.
She tried not to think of Riley at all. He was never hers to begin with and should have no influence on whether she renewed her relationship with Philip. Still, he was in her heart all the same. And he had influenced everything. She knew how wonderful the intimate act could be. It had been brief but soul shattering. What if it wasn’t that way with Philip? Would it have been better not to know how perfect it could be?
A year ago, she would have gladly—ignorantly—married Philip. Then she’d seen Charlotte and Reed. Despite the pain over her own broken relationship, she’d been aware of their passion. All her brother had to do was look at Charlotte with his dark cerulean eyes so like Sophie’s, and Charlotte was transfixed. Some unspoken message would pass between them. At Charlotte’s touch on Reed’s arm, he’d suck in his breath as though burned. That was how she felt with Riley.
I’ve made a mistake. The thought came to her as though she’d said it out loud, as though her truer self were finally speaking to her. She could not have Riley, but that didn’t mean she had to start over with Philip. Despite weeks of his courting her, she had to acknowledge, at least to herself, that she didn’t love him anymore. He didn’t make her tingle when he stood close. He never had. He’d been her comfortable, familiar friend who she’d assumed would become her husband.
The track continued to unravel behind her, taking her farther and farther from where she wanted to be. She had to tell Philip. Taking a fortifying breath of the frigid air, she went back inside.
*****
Phillip was looking out the window as she plopped herself down beside him.
“Sophie, are you all right? I went looking for you.”
She was wind-blown and red-nosed from the cold, knowing she looked a fright, but she felt more certain than she had in weeks.
“Philip, I don’t want to go with you to Boston.”
His mouth opened and remained so for a full five seconds before he closed it. Then he said, “The train is headed to Boston, dearest. I can’t do anything about that.” He tried to make light of her words, but she saw the apprehension flare in his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice sounded just the way it had in her head. Positively certain. “I don’t want to give up on San Francisco.”
“Give up on it? What a queer way to put it! We don’t have to live in Boston. In fact, we won’t. We’ll be in Cambridge. It’s lovely there.”
It was lovely there, but that wasn’t what she wanted. “I don’t want to live in Cambridge.”
“But we talked all this out, many times.” He took her hand. “You’re simply getting a case of the nerves, going home where everyone will be waiting to see you.”
He patted her hand and turned it over, raising the palm to his lips. He kissed it. She felt nothing but the small satisfaction of having a man who loved her kiss her. It was not the tingle of a woman who loved her man’s kiss.
“After we’re home,” he continued, “it’ll be like you never left.”
That’s what she most didn’t like about going home. She snatched her hand out of his grasp. Then she stopped and looked down at both her hands. They looked totally normal again, but she had resisted playing, even after the last bandage came off.
After Riley left, she’d been feeling bruised by life and hadn’t wanted to know if she’d lost any mobility. Without Riley to tell her she would heal just fine, she’d felt doubtful and cowardly and hadn’t dared to try playing again. What if she put her fingers to the keys only to find that she couldn’t play properly, not ever again? Coming on the heels of his abrupt departure and imminent marriage to Eliza, such an outcome had been too much to bear.
Suddenly, though, she couldn’t wait to play and see if her life could go on as it had before. She leaned her head back against the head rest. She would seek her brother’s counsel. There was no point in talking anymore to Philip. He would philosophize away her reticence and attempt persuasive reasons why she should accept that her life had come full circle.
*****
Within minutes of entering her mother’s home, Sophie escaped to the conservatory. The housekeeper was making t
ea, Philip was speaking in hushed tones to her family as though she were a delicate invalid, and Sophie was plain exhausted. At the sight of her piano, however, with its fanciful inlaid walnut marquetry of flowers and leaves, she smiled and felt the tight band on her heart loosen.
When she was ten, Sophie had heard rumblings across the floor and run downstairs to see what her father had bought. The Broadwood and Sons grand was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She knew its history, that it was made in 1846 and that very few of them were built, and she knew that Queen Victoria had requested its twin for her Masquerade Ball at Buckingham Palace in 1851. Indeed, when Sophie sat down at it, with its thick, richly carved legs and big solid pedals, she felt like a queen.
Placing her hands on the ivory keys, she relished their smooth, cool surface and felt instantly transformed, from a limp, fearful dish rag of a woman to a Titan. Her piano would not let her fail, even if she came to it blind and deaf. She closed her eyes and struck a chord, then another. Then she began to play. It came out of her as easily as breathing.
Even so, she felt her hand cramp; after all, the muscles in her healing fingers were weak. She shook it and wiggled her fingers, ignoring the pangs, then briskly rubbed her palms together before starting again.
Yes, she was sore and out of practice, but her hand worked, and she played one of Bach’s sonatas before her mother came up behind her.
“I’ve missed hearing you, my dear Sophie.”
Tears started to prick her eyes. How could she cause her mother more pain by leaving again?
“Tea is ready, dear. Come sit with me and tell me everything.”
Sophie nodded but didn’t look up until she could get her emotions in check.
“I’ll be right in, Mama. Has Mr. Wainright left?”
“Not yet. Don’t you want to say goodbye?”
“Please tell him I’m tired and will see him another day.”
An Irresistible Temptation Page 16