Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  He stepped forward, attempting to put his attention into greeting his guests and avoiding the enticing view of her creamy cleavage. The scent of her delicate perfume teased his senses and he struggled to ignore the distraction of her occasional gentle touches on his firm arm.

  Rebecca was keenly aware of the man’s presence beside her as she greeted the arrivals and smiled warmly. Without the tall boots his height was less overwhelming and, although a solid man, without the huge beard Timothy was not nearly the hulking giant she had at one time feared. She looked up to him intermittently and caught him studying her oddly and became certain that somehow she was making her handsome host uncomfortable.

  Nearly all of the guests had arrived and Timothy asked the young woman beside him if she had seen Octavia arrive. Unsure as to what the woman’s arrival meant to the man, she assured him that Octavia was not yet in attendance. Timothy cursed under his breath and turned towards the dining room. The front door burst open and Octavia pushed through the portal, flinging her heavy woolen cape aside towards the butler and rushing to Elgerson.

  “Oh my dear, Timothy,” she crooned. “Do forgive me for being so very late. Mother was off on an errand and I had to dress on my own. I so wanted to look especially beautiful tonight. What do you think of my gown?”

  Octavia twirled away from him, spreading her ample arms and displaying her frock. Although finely made, the evening dress, a dull shade of brown, strained dangerously at the seams. It appeared that Octavia had either filled out since the garment had been fashioned or was generous with the lacing of her corset since the dress appeared to be several sizes too small. Her ample breasts swelled, overflowing her bodice perilously and her strawberry red hair was piled haphazardly upon her head. She had rouged her plump cheeks lavishly and her lips were painted in a vivid shade of bright red. As she spun about in her display she caught sight of Rebecca standing quietly beside Timothy and stopped suddenly in the middle of her show.

  “Who are you?” she questioned the petite woman rudely.

  “This is Rebecca, Octavia.” Timothy took a half step protectively between the two women and attempted to lead Octavia towards the dining room.

  “Please excuse us,” he said to Rebecca.

  “Who is she?” Octavia demanded as Timothy steered her away from Rebecca by the arm.

  “Rebecca is a visitor. Would you like something to eat?”

  Since most of the guests had arrived, Rebecca slipped away to the kitchen to assess the serving of the food. Something about the woman irritated her, rather beyond just Octavia’s appearance, and Rebecca tried to shake off her uneasiness as she spoke to the cook.

  When Timothy and Octavia reached the dining room they were greeted by a tide of compliments regarding the evening’s fare.

  “The finest lamb I’ve ever tasted, Tim!” one man called out.

  “The trout is heavenly!” a tiny woman commented.

  “I suppose your compliments ought to go to Octavia,” Timothy announced to the crowd as Rebecca entered the room. “It’s my understanding that the menu planning was all her doing!”

  The compliments continued, several people taking Octavia by her gloved hand and praising her choices.

  At first perturbed with Timothy’s assumption, Rebecca thought about how she owed him so much and, since Octavia was obviously a close friend of the man, decided to let the mistaken assumption pass. She took pride and comfort in the fact that the meal was so greatly enjoyed by all and decided to find the ballroom and listen to some music while letting her frustration and unease with Octavia unwind.

  The ballroom was magnificent. The floor gleamed flawlessly with wide planks of oak and twinkling, crystal chandeliers softly lit the room. Encased in rows of leaded glass windows, the sprawling expanse led to a massive doorway opening to a large veranda outside.

  Rebecca stood just inside the entrance to the room and tapped her tiny foot to the strains of the music. Elegant couples danced vivaciously across the floor enjoying a lively reel. Mark approached her excitedly and asked her if she wanted to dance, concerned that the woman looked so beautiful and no one seemed to be entertaining her.

  Rebecca looked at the young man and smiled sweetly. A well-dressed man had been watching Rebecca from across the room and her beguiling smile made him decide that it was time to make his move. Rebecca placed her hand delicately into Mark’s palm and allowed him to lead her to the floor. As the boy was lifting his arms to begin the dance, graciously taking the girl’s left hand, the man intercepted him.

  “Go play outside, Mark,” the man brushed the boy aside. “I’m sure this heavenly creature would much prefer to dance with a grown man.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Rebecca addressed the man in her sweetest voice. “I believe I would first enjoy dancing with this gentleman who has just asked. I don’t believe you and I have been introduced.”

  “This is Mr. Thomas,” the boy scowled. “Mr. Thomas, this is my friend Rebecca.”

  “Your friend you say?” Thomas remarked, never taking his eyes from Rebecca. “Now where on earth would you make a friend like this?” He rubbed the sides of his moustache conceitedly. “I am honored,” he whispered to Rebecca, much more closely than she felt was appropriate.

  “Very nice to meet you,” Rebecca replied, unsmiling. “Please excuse me, but I have promised Mark a dance.”

  Rebecca took the boy’s hand and Mark led her to the center of the dance floor. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of the boy sticking his tongue out at the man. However, she decided she would not reprimand him since she was sorely moved to do the same. Thomas reminded Rebecca of her husband David and she hoped he would not approach her again.

  Mark danced sweetly, if awkwardly, and Rebecca gathered her skirts delicately in one hand to help the boy avoid his unerring propensity to step onto it. He spun her around the floor a bit too quickly for the music and Rebecca giggled as she followed the young man in his dizzying ballet.

  Timothy found Rebecca immediately as he entered the softly lit room. She laughed delightedly as his son tried valiantly to pull her around the floor. Rebecca was light on her feet and scrambled effectively to keep up with the boy. After running the young woman too close to several of the more serious dancers, Timothy decided he had better intercede.

  Informing the boy graciously that it was his turn, he took Rebecca by the hand and bowed deeply. “If I may cut in, Madam?” he asked, and winked at the boy. Mark ran off grinning broadly.

  Rebecca placed her hand on the man’s firm shoulder and he began to lead her in a waltz. He moved confidently around the floor in an easy manner and Rebecca tried to keep from meeting his eyes while blushing at his closeness.

  The evening’s guests had all wondered who the mysterious young woman might be and several of them gathered to watch the couple and whisper questions among themselves.

  Rebecca felt as if she were gliding, the man’s perfect lead was so in step with her own natural way of dancing. She looked up at him and he fixed his eyes on hers, smiling handsomely. His fine features captivated her and she was unable to pull herself from his gaze. She studied the depth of his penetrating look and felt his warmth as he slid her effortlessly through the waltz.

  The stunning beauty and her handsome friend moved magically in beautiful unison among the dancing couples and one woman remarked that a woman worthy of Mr. Elgerson might have arrived at last.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Octavia, overhearing the remark, decided it was a good time to take over the stage and make an announcement to the crowd. Pulling herself onto the platform, she pushed the violinist aside and yelled out to the crowd.

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen!”

  Timothy and Rebecca interrupted their dance to watch Octavia bellowing from the stage.

  “Timothy and I want to thank you all for coming tonight. Timothy, why don’t you join me?” she called out.

  Elgerson groaned deeply and Rebecca smiled at him encou
ragingly. “Good luck,” she whispered as he stepped away and then turned back to her, rolling his eyes before advancing towards the stage.

  Mark stepped up beside Rebecca and whispered something under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” Rebecca was not sure she liked what she had heard. “It’s not nice to say you hate anyone.”

  “I know,” the boy scuffed his feet. “She’s so fat.”

  “Mark! That’s a terrible thing to say. I’ll not listen to you if you stand here and make such rude remarks about your father’s friends!”

  “She always calls me Mick,” the boy grunted.

  Rebecca recalled the woman patting her on the head in the dress shop and thought that she didn’t care much for the woman herself. Timothy seemed to know Octavia so well and she herself was an outsider, but in a way she had to agree with the boy.

  Hoping to avoid the presumptuous Mr. Thomas, watching her boldly from a few feet away, Rebecca slipped behind the crowd and found a quiet corner where she could see the stage.

  “It’s been a long time since we had a good celebration and Tim’s been so gracious to throw a party for us all I have to thank him.” Octavia grabbed the man roughly and planted a generous kiss onto his cheek. “Oh, look at that,” she exclaimed. “The man even decided to shave! I hadn’t even noticed!”

  The crowd burst into laughter.

  Rebecca watched Timothy scowl uncomfortably beside Octavia and thought it odd that anyone could miss the incredible transformation of the man having removed the massive beard. Before, he looked menacing and huge, she thought. Now, one could see that he was slender and well-built, and appeared quite the gentleman. Possibly he had grown the beard only recently and Octavia was just accustomed to seeing the man without it.

  “Of course we must mention the reason we have gathered here tonight is to celebrate Timothy’s acquisition of three thousand more acres of land,” Octavia continued.

  Rebecca gasped. She could not imagine how far one would have to travel to survey that much property and suddenly felt plain and diminutive. These odd Americans with their rough ways were no simple farmers. Rebecca began to study the couples around the room. Although their styles were very different from what she had been accustomed to in her own country, she realized that she stood with a large group of rich landowners. They had all seemed so coarse to her with their ordinary sounding accents, but now she saw that, although their clothing was far different than that of the more well-to-do in England, they were all finely dressed in their own fashion. If only her fate had gone differently she could be here with one of the men in the crowd, being introduced as a future bride. Though at first the thought seemed appealing, she now realized that everyone would know how she came to be here, as an intended bride, and she felt ashamed. The realization made her begin to perspire and Rebecca decided she needed a breath of the night air.

  Timothy watched the petite woman exit the side door, looking pensive, from his vantage point on the stage.

  Rebecca stepped out of the doorway onto the veranda and took a deep breath, reassuring herself that no one here knew her and could possibly suspect how she came to this place. An inviting garden beckoned her from across the lawn and she made her way to the gazebo among the roses. The scent of the blooms drifted around her as she stood inside the large structure contemplating her future.

  “Where will I go now?” she asked herself. “I can’t possibly ask Timothy for anything more.” The thought of Timothy’s apparent wealth made him seem even more unapproachable to her and for the first time she realized that she had imposed on his generosity much more than she thought. Every event of the past few weeks, the food, the cabin, the hotel, the baths, the clothing… all came back to her mind in a rush.

  Rebecca stood alone in the night air and worried over her fate. She had no family and no one to turn to except her cousin in England. She decided that she would need to accept her failure and wire Emma for help. Not so long ago such a thing would have been unthinkable, but Rebecca’s experiences were teaching her that there were more terrible things in the world than swallowing her pride.

  “How wonderful, that I should find you out here!”

  Rebecca turned to the approaching voice of Mr. Thomas, and felt uneasy.

  “I was just getting a breath of fresh air,” Rebecca replied while heading back towards the house.

  “Oh, please stay,” he remarked smoothly. “It’s a lovely night and I certainly would like to get to know you better.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca replied curtly. “I’d rather go back inside.”

  The brazen man grabbed Rebecca tightly by the wrist and persisted in his attempt to keep her outdoors. “Tell me about yourself, please.” His voice was smooth and polished and he again stroked his moustache in a manner that Rebecca found unnerving.

  The young woman pulled her wrist away from the insistent man and stepped from the structure onto the grass. He took her roughly by the arm and she could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. He wrapped his arms around her tightly insisting he now wanted to know her more intimately.

  Timothy finished accepting his guests’ handshakes and congratulations and made his way towards the side door as soon as he saw Jude Thomas slip outside. He knew the man’s techniques well, and that Rebecca was likely in the garden alone. He considered leaving the girl to her own defenses, knowing full well she could disable the man should she choose to. Perhaps Rebecca liked Jude’s type, after all, what did he really know about her? He felt a bit beguiled by her himself, but her beauty would attract all types. He wondered for a moment what her type might be.

  As he approached the gazebo he heard Rebecca’s soft pleas and made his presence apparent.

  “Timothy!” Rebecca exclaimed, freeing herself from the drunken pursuer and standing firmly bedside the tall man.

  “Jude,” Timothy nodded to the man.

  “Evening Tim, I suppose congratulations are in order. You’ve bought up half the country and looks like you get this tasty bit of fluff in the bargain. You always were a lucky bastard.”

  Jude Thomas found the solid fist of Timothy Elgerson squarely across his jaw and he stumbled into the night.

  “Thank you,” Rebecca whispered softly, rubbing her arms with her hands and suddenly feeling chilled.

  “That’s not the first time I’ve run off that fool. He’s got nerve coming back here again. Octavia must have invited him. He’s a cousin of hers.”

  Timothy took Rebecca by the elbow to lead her back to the house should Jude recuperate and attempt to approach the girl again. It was apparent by her reaction to seeing the big man that she was not enjoying Jude’s attentions and Timothy was relieved.

  “Timothy,” Rebecca turned to the man. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. Like I said, I’ve had problems with Jude before.”

  “Not just for that,” Rebecca faced the man, looking him frankly in the eyes. “For everything. I’ve wanted to say something since I refused your invitation for dinner at the hotel. I was wrong, regardless of my attire. You and Mark have been so wonderful to me. I can’t begin to thank you enough.” Rebecca began choking on the words.

  Timothy looked down at her and was moved by her emotional, intent look. He felt curiously protective of the girl and as he watched her delicate, earnest face he could not believe that she was careless and would give herself to any stranger. Yet, what did he know about her, really? Timothy looked into Rebecca’s eyes with growing concern for the effect the girl was having on him.

  “There you are!” Octavia bounded across the lawn.

  Rebecca pulled away, embarrassed, and tried to compose herself.

  “Octavia,” Timothy groaned.

  “You must dance with me, hurry!” Octavia grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him across the lawn.

  Rebecca followed the couple into the house and slipped through the hall into the kitchen.

  “That woman is so ridiculous!” the cook announced to Rebecca as soon as she entered
the kitchen. “Octavia’s telling everyone she is responsible for that fine meal. Preposterous! I will tell Timothy how untrue that is and set him straight!”

  “No please,” Rebecca begged. “This is their party together and he doesn’t need to know. Please let it be, Birget. Everything was so perfect. I just think that we should not bring it up in the middle of this fine evening.” Rebecca felt overwhelmed and emotional.

  She should have allowed, in fact, even encouraged Timothy to kiss her, but she had no right. She was not a rich landowner like these people here. In fact, she had fewer belongings of her own than the staff at Stavewood. Timothy was a rich and generous man. How could she imagine a life with such a man when she was nothing more than a mail order bride? His intense gaze and her undeniable attraction to the man had her nervous and distracted. Rebecca fought off tears and decided she should help the staff clean up from the party and went to the dining room to gather the empty platters.

  Birget admonished the girl soundly as she entered the kitchen, her arms piled high with empty plates.

  “Madam, you should not be doing such a thing. You’ll ruin that beautiful gown!”

  Realizing the gown would eventually have to be returned, Rebecca decided she would finish out the evening as best she could, if only out of appreciation for the family who had taken her in, and she returned to the ballroom.

  She chatted with a few of the guests and watched Timothy dancing with nearly every female guest, young and old, while Octavia demanded his attention at every opportunity. Rebecca danced with a gallant older gentleman, who reminded her of her father, and spoke briefly with him and his wife before finding a spot along the wall where she could observe the festivities unnoticed.

  “So, what is it exactly you are doing here?” Rebecca turned from watching Timothy gliding smoothly across the dance floor, to Octavia tapping her foot impatiently.

  “Miss Octavia,” Rebecca smiled.