A Season Beyond a Kiss

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Fridrich just may attempt that kind of force here if she’s working on the premises,” Farrell pointed out, not unreasonably. The possibility didn’t concern him overmuch; he just thought his friend needed to be apprised of the hazards his wife could be facing outside his husbandly protection.

  “If you’re not averse to the idea, I could draw a couple of men from the lumber mill or one of my other businesses to watch over Raelynn here. She wouldn’t be able to recognize them. Neither would Fridrich. Both would think you just acquired a few extra helpers.”

  “Business is certainly good enough to warrant some help,” Farrell remarked drolly before casting a glance toward his guest. “I don’t suppose you intend to send me someone who can actually thread a needle.”

  Jeff chuckled. “Well, if you’re that much in need, I could send you experienced sailors who can stitch canvas with the best of them.”

  “Marvelous,” Ives muttered, making much of his lack of enthusiasm. “If Charleston’s gentry suddenly takes to wearing sailcloth, my future will be secure.”

  “I WILL BE HAPPY TO PROVIDE YOU WITH EMPLOYMENT, Mrs. Birmingham,” Farrell Ives assured the young beauty a pair of days later after admitting her into his shop before opening time. Her maid was sitting quietly in the parlor, where she had a clear view of the area where Raelynn and he sat facing each other across the surface of his desk. Tizzy was there for the specific purpose of providing reasonable chaperone service to allay any rumors. Considering his bachelor’s status and the fact that gossips were wont to enlarge upon his reputation with the most outrageous stories, the presence of the maid was most needful. If anyone had taken such tales seriously, then Farrell supposed that in the last few years they had credited him with siring half the city’s infants, but to perform such a feat, he’d have been far too busy making babies to even think of carrying on his high fashion business.

  Farrell swept his hand toward the tooled leather desktop where he had spread Raelynn’s drawings to better peruse them after Jeff had delivered them. It was a plain fact that the more he had studied them, the more he had become intrigued. “These fashion sketches of yours are marvelously animated, Mrs. Birmingham. They certainly leave no doubt as to your skill as a couturiere.” Formality had come into play now that he could foresee them working together. First names would no longer be used, but more than that, the lengthy appellation would serve to remind him that this very fetching lady was the wife of his best friend. As much as he might have enjoyed courting her had she been free, he was not about to endanger a close camaraderie that had been firmly established in his earlier youth. “Would it be possible for you to start immediately?”

  “Immediately?” Raelynn was aghast. “You mean today?”

  “Yes, of course. As I understand it, you’ll be letting a room from Elizabeth from now on, and unless you have other things planned, I thought we could get you settled in here as well. Is that at all acceptable to you?”

  Raelynn leaned back in her chair, totally taken aback. When Jeff had asked for the fashion plates, he had made it known that he would be leaving them with the couturier to allow him to consider her merits as a fashion designer, but Jeff had also warned her that if Farrell didn’t think her contributions would come up to his standards, the man would likely find her other work to do in his shop. Relieving Elizabeth of some of the paperwork involved in keeping the accounts and records up to date for Ives’s Couture had been an option, although one that Raelynn hadn’t particularly relished, but having prepared herself for the worst, she had hardly expected the clothier to leap at a chance to hire her.

  “Why, yes, I suppose it is, Mr. Ives. I mean, I can’t see any harm in getting started this morning. In fact, it really doesn’t matter when I begin. I have nothing else to do.” Her voice caught, and she hurriedly turned her face aside lest she break down in front of the man. The fact that Jeff had handed her into the landau earlier that morning and, with a stoic frown, had watched them depart had left her feeling much the way she had after each of her parents had died, as if her heart had been suddenly laden with heavy, iron chains.

  “Is anything the matter?” Farrell queried. He had thought that she’d be overjoyed with how well he liked her drawings. Yet, he was now inclined to think the lady was on the verge of tears. “You seem distressed about something. Does the idea of working for me disturb you?”

  “No, of course not, Mr. Ives. I’m delighted that you like my sketches.” Raelynn wrung her hands, wondering if she should be completely honest in her reasons for being in his shop. “You may think this strange, Mr. Ives, in view of the fact that I’ve made inquiries into the matter of my employment, but I wasn’t at all averse to being Jeffrey’s wife or, for that matter, Oakley’s mistress. If I seem at all disturbed, then be assured that it has nothing to do with a reluctance to be working here. It’s just that I realize that in the days and weeks to come, I will be disassociating myself from what I’ve come to hold dear. I really had no wish to alienate myself from my husband, but when I’m repeatedly haunted by grizzly impressions of him standing over Nell’s body with a bloody knife in his hand, I have trouble sorting things out in my mind. I don’t want to believe that Jeff is guilty of murder, yet I keep wondering, What if . . . What if . . .”

  Farrell was relieved to hear her speak with such open concern about her relationship with her husband. It gave him some hope that in due time the difficulty between the couple would be resolved in a satisfactory manner. “You needn’t fret yourself unduly about the matter, Mrs. Birmingham. Your husband has the greatest concern for your well-being and is allowing you this opportunity to come to terms with your fears. I’ve known Jeff for many years, and more than any of us, whether it’s myself, Brandon, or Rhys Townsend, Jeff has a sincere fondness for most people. He’s that way about animals, too, ofttimes to the sheriff’s chagrin, but that’s another story. I know what you saw in the stables shattered your trust in your husband, but if you’d give your mind leave to rest over the matter, I’m sure the true culprit will come to light in time, and you will be reassured that Jeff couldn’t possibly have done such a deed. I should also like to add that if you think either Rhys or I are prejudiced in our friendship with your husband, then may I enlighten you by telling you that I once threatened Emory Dalton with serious mayhem if I ever saw him mistreating Elizabeth again. Though I didn’t kill him myself, I actually felt a great measure of relief as well as a deep sadness when I buried him several nights later. Jeff’s friendship means a great deal to me, but if I really thought he had killed that little girl, I’d be the first one to accuse him though it might well mean his hanging.”

  “Am I being a disloyal wife because I can’t settle the matter of his innocence in my mind?” Raelynn asked in a tiny voice. Because she feared his answer, she turned her face aside and pressed a knuckle to her quivering lips, not wishing to glimpse any hint of his condemnation.

  “Do you love Jeffrey?”

  Her head snapped around, and for a moment she stared at her new employer as if he had taken leave of his senses. Then she lowered her gaze to the sketches on the desk and tried to swallow, only then realizing just how dry her mouth had become. Finally she bent her head forward in a disconcerted, jerky movement and uttered words that seemed distant even in her own ears. “Yes, I love him.” Though she tried to blink away the moisture that rapidly filled her eyes, the tears began spilling freely down her cheeks. “I think I’ve loved him ever since he rescued me from that passing livery. He was so gallant, so noble . . . so incredibly wonderful. . . .” As she spoke, her head came up, and a surging joy began to well up within her and to overflow in a suddenly radiant countenance. Though it was an emotion she had begun to suspect mere moments before she had gone out to the stables, her present acknowledgment was as much to herself as to the couturier. Her whisper was barely audible, yet full of feeling. “Aye, I love him very, very much.”

  Amazed to find himself affected by her declaration, Farrell cleared his throat in sudden disc
omfiture and, feeling a need to move on to a less emotional subject, got down to the business at hand as he rose to his feet. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Birmingham, we’ll find a place for you to work on your sketches and designs in the main hall. In there you’ll be readily accessible whenever Elizabeth or any of the seamstresses have a need to speak with you about your designs or when our customers may wish to take a look at your drawings. I’ve settled on a few designs of my own for the spring season but not anywhere near the amount I’ll be needing to appease everyone who’ll be looking for something original. I’m hoping with your assistance that I’ll be able to placate all our clients.”

  “I’ll gladly give as much help as I’m capable of, sir.”

  “And I will likely be demanding a lot from you,” Farrell warned with a grin. “Many of my customers expect no less than my personal attention, and the more customers there are, the less time I have to spend designing new gowns. Hopefully you’ll fill in the gap.”

  Thoughtfully Farrell led her to the adjoining hall and scanned several possible areas where her desk could be placed. He went to stand in each location and, from there, considered the lighting, convenience, and the overall setting before finally selecting a place near the back of the corridor that permitted a view of a carefully tended garden, which, for his own relaxation, he took care of himself. Canting his head to peer at his newest employee over his shoulder, he gave her a grin. “Are you loath to being put on full display, Mrs. Birmingham?”

  Raelynn smiled hesitantly, not knowing what mischief he was about. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind as long as I don’t have to answer impertinent questions about why I’m here, if I’m truly estranged from my husband and if he’s really the father of Nell’s babe.”

  A soft chuckle prefaced his remedy for that kind of situation. “I’ll do my best to shush those nosy women with gushing compliments. You’d be amazed at how quickly some women will preen in pleasure when they’re given a little manly attention.”

  Raelynn had no difficulty imagining the transformation that could occur in a lady’s disposition when the one doing the complimenting was Farrell Ives. If not for Jeffrey Birmingham, she might have been just as susceptible. “I suspect you’ve been blessed with the gift of blarney, Mr. Ives.”

  His lips stretched into a wide grin beneath the neatly clipped brush adorning his upper lip. “Aye, my dear mother was as Irish as Dublin itself. I learned it well from her, God rest her soul.”

  “You did at that, Mr. Ives,” Raelynn readily agreed with a chuckle.

  Farrell stroked his beard musefully as he lent his attention this time to determining the best angle for situating her desk in the spot he had selected. He considered the closest brass chandelier of a pair that hung from the high ceiling and decided that if her desk was placed slightly behind it, the fixture would cast more light on her work. She would also be framed by the expanse of windows overlooking the garden. “This is where I shall put you, Mrs. Birmingham,” he announced, stepping into the spot to better mark it for her benefit. “A beautiful, well-garbed woman will gain the attention she rightly deserves here in this charming setting. You’ll have the windows overlooking the garden to your back, which will offer natural light, while, in front of the desk, the chandelier will illumine your comely presence. None of our customers will be able to miss seeing you, and, of course, to get to you, they’ll have to pass the tables where all of our most costly fabrics are displayed.”

  “You have quite a devious mind, Mr. Ives,” Raelynn averred in a voice imbued with amusement. “I’ll have to take care to guard my purse strings lest I fall in the same enticing trap you lay for your customers.”

  Farrell gave her a devious grin as he whisked a finger slyly beneath his mustache and waggled his eyebrows. “My dear Mrs. Birmingham, you just don’t know the half of it.” He leaned toward her as if to share a tantalizing secret. “You see, you’ll be the bait that lures the ladies into my trap, for you’ll soon be wearing some of my most stunning creations, as Mrs. Dalton does now.”

  Raelynn hated to dash the man’s expectations, but she couldn’t allow him to go to such expense and bother when in a month’s time she’d likely be showing her pregnancy. A mischievous glow sparkled in her aqua eyes as she queried, “How are you at designing garments for expectant mothers, sir?”

  Farrell’s bearded chin dropped significantly to convey his astonishment. Briefly his eyes flicked downward to what seemed to him a perfectly flat stomach before he remembered himself and, in some chagrin, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Birmingham, I didn’t realize. Jeffrey didn’t inform me of your delicate condition.” He cocked a curious brow as he eyed her closely. “I assume you’ve told him.”

  “He’s aware of my childbearing state,” Raelynn stated carefully and thought it only fair to give Farrell a chance to retract his offer. “Under the circumstances, do you still wish to hire me on? I’ll understand completely if you think your customers will be unduly shocked to find a woman in my condition working in your shop.”

  Farrell grinned devilishly. “Women in your condition, Mrs. Birmingham, will need beautiful clothes to mask some of their bulk. It’s about time they had a source from which to procure such stylish garb, and I’m quite willing to supply them with gowns that will bring them out of hiding. If I can supply clothes for old spinsters and stout matrons, then I can only imagine how much more delightful it shall be to adorn a woman who has been truly appreciated by her husband.”

  Raelynn blushed significantly even as her effervescent laughter spilled outward in amusement. “Mr. Ives, you’re positively perverse.”

  Grinning knavishly, Farrell flicked his eyebrows once again. “To be sure, Mrs. Birmingham, to be sure.”

  16

  WELL BEFORE ANY OF THE OTHER EMPLOYEES ARRIVED, Elizabeth Dalton entered and approached Raelynn with a dazzling smile, readily conveying her eagerness to have the younger woman as a boarder in her home. “Your room is all ready for you, Mrs. Birmingham. Your coachman insisted upon taking your baggage upstairs, so if you’d like to send your maid over now, my Flora can show her to your bedrooms. Tizzy can start unpacking for you, and by the time we leave here this afternoon, everything should be done, and all we’ll have to do is relax and enjoy supper. Flora normally has a meal ready and the table set by the time I get home, but I’m afraid for breakfast and weekends, you’ll have to struggle through my cooking. I do what shopping needs to be done on Saturdays. Although I know there’ll be things you’ll be wanting to do on your own, Jake and I would love to have you accompany us whenever you’d feel up to it, Mrs. Birmingham. What I’d really enjoy is making you better acquainted with the city. I’m sure you’ll come to love it as much as I do.”

  “Please, Elizabeth,” Raelynn begged, bestowing a gracious smile upon the woman, “I’d be ever so much more comfortable if you wouldn’t be so formal. Besides, if you continue calling me Mrs. Birmingham, it will arouse the customers’ curiosity. They’ll soon be gawking at me as if I’m an oddity in the shop.”

  Elizabeth laughed as she reached out and clasped the other’s hand. “All right, Raelynn, you win. Of course, I should warn you that our casual address will likely cause Mr. Ives’s brows to quirk at a higher level, but then, that’s rather nice to see. Our employer looks diabolically handsome whenever he’s crossed.”

  Both women broke into sudden giggles, drawing the couturier’s curious attention even from where he was standing down the length of the hall. As the pair eyed him, his eyebrow shot up to a lofty height, evoking more laughter. Growing increasingly suspicious, he paced forward almost warily, sending the pair fleeing in opposite directions, Raelynn to her desk and Elizabeth to the first cubicle where she promptly began checking the prior days’ progress of the seamstress who worked there. Farrell followed his winsome assistant as far as the open door and, tilting his head at a curious angle, peered intently at her ignoring back until Elizabeth finally deigned to glance back at him.

  “Did you want something,
Mr. Ives?”

  Farrell was most appreciative of the enchanting vision she presented wearing one of his own creations, a fetching pink gown with a pleated collar that flared outward charmingly from beneath her finely boned jaw. The delicate hue favored her fair skin and rosy cheeks and, in like degrees, set off her lustrous dark hair, which today had been intricately woven into a heavy chignon at her nape. Confronted by the sudden realization of how her beauty affected him, Farrell had to jar his memory to even recall what had caused him to follow her. “Yes, well . . . ah . . . I was just wondering what you and Mrs. Birmingham found so amusing.”

  “Oh, nothing really.” She wagged her head whimsically. “At least nothing you’d likely find entertaining. Just private observations, the sort women are wont to share in secret.”

  “Secret?”

  When his eyebrow jutted sharply upward again, Elizabeth found her composure seriously threatened. Little spurts of laughter seemed destined to escape, finally driving her to mumble a hurried excuse and brush past him in her haste to flee the room. As she disappeared through the back door leading out to the garden and the outdoor convenience concealed from view by a collection of topiary, Farrell gave up his quest to have his probing inquiries assuaged, at least by that winsome lady.

  Turning about on polished black heels, he fixed his cerulean blue gaze purposefully upon his newest employee and raised a querying brow when she suddenly busied herself shuffling through her drawings. One glance in his direction sent her giggling toward the same door through which Elizabeth had recently escaped.

  Farrell set his jaw thoughtfully askew. Something was definitely going on between those two. He could feature a pair of virgins dissolving into instant sniggers at sight of a man, but these ladies were hardly that. So what in the devil had set off their twittering?