Oh, God, he was leaving her alone. The children had vanished into the crowd, and Anna had already disappeared in the direction of the food tables. Charlotte thought she'd heard her name murmured somewhere close by, and imagined she saw heads turn and fans go up over whispering mouths.
Her palms started to dampen and she turned a sickly smile on the revelers. Luckily, the next person she focused on was Sarah, who gave her a cheerful wave. She waved back, determined to head over.
"Is that Charlotte Sanborn?" said a loud voice in her ear, followed by a tug on her arm. It was Jessie Hollander, the waitress from Fuller's restaurant. "Girl, you're all slicked up something fine."
"Why, don't that beat the Dutch? Ruth, come over here and take a gander at Charlotte Sanborn."
"Charlotte, here?" came an equally loud voice. By this time, other people had started to form around her, and she felt as if she were the latest display at a traveling show.
"How... how nice to see you all," she managed. Then, pushing through the crowd straight toward her was Eliza Prentice, dressed in a cool blue color that matched her eyes and set off her blond hair.
"Where did you get that dress?" the girl practically hissed, right in front of everyone.
"Why, in town, of course. But yours is a homespun delight." Charlotte saw that barb reach home as Eliza's eyes widened and her nostrils flared.
But the pretty blond collected herself. "Wait until you all meet the magnificent man I met in town," she said conspiratorially to the other ladies. "I invited him here myself," she added with a simper.
Charlotte opened her mouth to explain about Reed Malloy, but before she could, she saw Eliza's gaze shoot past her. She knew who Eliza saw, as the young woman's hand immediately raised up to pat her hair.
It was too late. Reed chose that moment to appear, holding the pie plates stacked one on top of the other.
"There you are," he said, and Eliza turned a brilliant smile on him. It died as he went directly to Charlotte's side. "I could barely see you through your throng of friends. Good evening, ladies, and Miss Prentice, isn't it?" Reed nodded his head to each one in turn.
"Now, Miss Sanborn, where's our punch? And the children?" Reed handed her the pear crisps and propelled her away from the awe struck, momentarily silent group, a firm hand on her back.
"That was wicked," she told him with a smile, placing their offering on the end of the table with the other cakes and sweetmeats. "But I'm grateful."
"I love to rescue a lady in distress," he told her handing her a cup of punch, "especially one as beautiful as you."
She smiled at him and sipped at the fruity drink. "This has to be one of the most exciting nights of my life. And to think, I never would have had the opportunity if not for you."
He smiled down at her. "Then let's make the most of it. Shall we dance?"
She set her cup down. "Believe it or not, that's one thing I can do. My mother insisted I learn, bless her, though it has been a while."
Reed led her onto the clean-swept floor as a new tune started up; it was slow and sweet, and Charlotte was relaxing into Reed's strong arms as they danced.
Surely, this was a little bit of heaven, far away from editorial deadlines and her cluttered study. The pressure of his hands, one resting on her waist and the other holding her hand securely, made her feel like like a full-fledged woman. She slanted her head to look at him, their eyes meeting.
"Your mother taught you well," he told her, gently squeezing her hand.
"And where did you learn to dance, Mr. Malloy?"
"I picked it up, here and there. And it's time to be Reed and Charlotte now, don't you think?"
She nodded. The intimacy of first names in public sent another shiver down her spine. What would Eliza think of that?
"Tomorrow," he added, looking around them at the other dancers, "we need to talk."
"Tomorrow," she repeated, and his blue eyes met hers. But tonight, she thought, there was no need for words. The next tune picked up the tempo, and Charlotte was soon whirling around the dance floor.
"Everyone is so fine-looking," she observed as he drew her in close, "like freshly picked flowers, don't you think?"
Reed shook his head.
"You have no idea that you're the most radiant woman here."
She stopped still for a moment, looking up at his handsome face, now grown dear to her. He tightened his hold on her hand and led her off the dance floor, stopping at a quiet spot, next to one of the empty stalls.
"There's something so vibrant about you, Charlotte, so different from anyone I've ever known. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to keep company with you at home. In Boston, I mean."
He cocked his head at her, and daringly, she rested her palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast from the dancing. "Would you become just the same as all the women I've known in the endless drawing rooms of Boston?"
She shrugged, unwilling to break his lighthearted musings and at a loss as to how those other women behaved.
He continued, "I doubt that any environment could change the honest reactions of one Charlotte Sanborn. You could never be other than a head full of strong opinions, with the intelligence to garner respect, and the beauty that encourages men's admiration and women's envy."
"Oh, my," she laughed. "I sound like a paragon, indeed." If he was trying to persuade her, he was nearly succeeding. She was just about ready to pack her trunks.
"Not too much of a paragon, I hope," he said softly, changing the mood. His gaze dropped to her full lips for a moment, then to her own hungry glance, making her want desperately to be kissed.
"What are you thinking?" he asked her, leaning his head even closer. She didn't care that they were only against the rough wooden wall in Drake's—with every person she'd ever known only feet away. She didn't care that he'd put his hand on her waist in public or that his leg was close amongst her skirts. She wanted desperately for him to kiss her right then.
"I'm only imagining how it would be—"
She was interrupted by Lily and Thomas and three other children whom Charlotte recognized from town. They were all chattering at the same time as she and Reed moved quickly apart. Reed was able to speak before she was.
"Silence, please." His voice was not stern or loud, just commanding, and they obeyed him instantly.
"All right then, what's this all about? One at a time," he ordered as they all opened their mouths again. "Lily?"
"The late train has come in from the east, and they say," she gestured toward a group of gossiping women, including Eliza, "that there were people on it from home."
"From home?" Reed and Charlotte said at once.
"From Bos'n," Thomas added.
Charlotte felt a clenching in her stomach. Could it be the children's grandmother coming to get them?
Alarmed at the surge of protectiveness and possessiveness that rose up, she determined that she didn't want to let the children go, and that the feeling was unrelated to Reed.
She fervently hoped these strangers had nothing to do with the children or their lawyer. Things were going smoothly, and all she wanted was a little more time.
* * *
The station was nearly deserted when the last train pulled in. Only two occupants got off at Spring City, and they went directly to the hotel, securing two separate rooms. Because nearly the whole town was at the barn dance, the two travelers freshened up and wandered down to the end of the street where the bright lights of Drake's barn welcomed them.
It was here that Helen Belgrave sought her fiancé and John Trelaine looked for his law partner—one and the same, Reed Malloy.
Chapter 11
Charlotte saw Reed stiffen and followed his gaze across the room to where the doors were standing open. If her own unexpected appearance had caused a stir, the arrival of out-of-towners caused an absolute maelstrom of murmurs to course around the room. It was easy to follow the wave of whispers and stares to see where Reed was looking.
Just inside the entrance, searching the crowd, stood an impeccably clad woman accompanied by an equally well-groomed gentleman about the same age as Reed and dressed similarly in darkest charcoal.
The stunning female was undoubtedly used to the attention, paying it no mind as she dipped her head to confer with the man. Her night-black hair was swept up in a smooth chignon and she wore a sophisticated cream-colored gown trimmed with black satin.
Immediately, Charlotte saw the great contrast this pair made with every other person in the room—except Reed. Everyone looked downright provincial in the shadow of their polished demeanor. Even herself, she realized, acutely aware of the outdated fashion of her crinoline in contrast to the dark-haired woman's sleek gown with its shapely bustle, pleated skirts and elegant train.
Charlotte already knew the answer but asked anyway. "Do you know them?"
He nodded, not taking his eyes off them until they finally saw him, and the man waved. The woman, even from this distance, seemed to greet him with her eyes, her whole expression, and even the way her body relaxed toward him.
Reed lifted up his hand in greeting, and the pair started toward them. Only then did he look at Charlotte.
"It appears as though we're out of time," he voiced her thoughts. "My life in Boston seems to have been unable to wait any longer." By then, the two strangers were upon them.
"Reed, we've been looking all over for you." The man spoke first, obviously relieved; the woman only glanced from Reed to Charlotte and back again.
"You found me," Reed said, stiffly. "John, I'd like you to meet Charlotte Sanborn, Ann Connors' cousin. Miss Sanborn, this is my partner, John Trelaine."
"How pleased I am to meet you," the man told her, giving her a small bow at the same time that he took her hand and brought it up to his lips.
Charlotte instantly liked his kind brown eyes. She wondered what had brought another lawyer all the way across the country to the middle of Colorado. In the next moment, she understood.
"Reed, I insisted John bring me out here. I was worried about you." The woman leaned over and gave his cheek a quick brush with her flawless red lips. And Charlotte felt a mix of emotions running the gamut from hot anger to shattered sadness.
"You needn't have worried, Helen, and you shouldn't have bothered John." Reed's voice was steady, but Charlotte detected a note of irritation. "Helen, this is Miss Sanborn."
Charlotte was painfully aware that the intimate use of first names had given way to formalities again; now, it was this woman who was so obviously on familiar terms with Reed.
Helen Belgrave's eyes slid over to her. They were unfathomable pools of darkness. But her words were courteous.
"You are Charles Sanborn's sister? How nice to meet you." Her tones were smooth as her raven hair.
John Trelaine cleared his throat slightly. It was obvious to Charlotte that he knew.
Reed simply drew in a deep breath as if girding himself for battle.
"Charlotte Sanborn is Charles Sanborn, Helen."
The woman's mouth dropped open for the briefest of seconds and then snapped shut, as the color rose in her lovely face. It appeared as if trouble were brewing.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, too, though I'm afraid you have the advantage," Charlotte returned, looking questioningly at Reed, who was staring hard at her now, his wary expression a puzzle to her.
"Miss Sanborn," he said at last, "this is Helen Belgrave."
"His fiancée," the beauty added, placing her gloved hand on his arm.
John Trelaine coughed at that moment as if he were choking. Charlotte was thankful it covered her slight gasp. Her eyes flew to Reed's face; he had not stopped staring at her. Now she knew why he'd watched her so carefully—he'd been waiting for her reaction to the disclosure he was certain she would hear.
Reed's jaw clenched. His lips were a straight line that matched his eyebrows, and he looked downright grim. Charlotte was certain he was a man who did not like to be caught holding back the truth, even if, apparently, he didn't mind holding it back in the first place.
"His fiancée," Charlotte repeated aloud in what she hoped was a light and gay voice. "Why, Mr. Malloy, you should have told me. I'm sure I wouldn't have let you stay so long in this backward place," she bit out the words, "when you had Mrs. Belgrave awaiting your return."
"I assure you, Miss Sanborn," he said evenly, his eyes never leaving hers, "I do not let anyone make me do anything I don't want to do."
"Reed does get caught up in his work," Helen Belgrave said, apparently having recovered from her surprise at finding out that "Charles" was a female. Her words were placid enough, though her tone of voice was unamused.
Charlotte felt a distinct lack of amusement, too, and wondered if the kisses she and Reed had shared, not to mention their passionate interlude in his bedroom, were written across her face.
Seemingly not, for Mrs. Belgrave continued, "My Reed is quite thorough at whatever he does. His work ethic demands that he accomplish his business affairs ahead of most anything else."
My Reed. Charlotte thought she was going to be sick. She squashed the image of Reed and Helen Belgrave in some expensive restaurant in Boston, having a romantic dinner, before going together to his home to...
"Helen," Reed said, his voice sounding more like a warning than a lover's address, "what are you doing here?"
Charlotte barely listened to her answer; she was pondering why he had dallied with her in the first place. Had he been so intent on getting her to accept the children that he would trifle with her? She just didn't know. How could she? After all, she'd only known him a few weeks. How stupid she'd been to think she knew him at all.
Helen Belgrave was still talking, and John looked about as uncomfortable as Charlotte felt. As for Reed, she couldn't even look him in the eye at this moment, so she boldly addressed his law partner.
"Mr. Trelaine, you must be thirsty after your long trip. Would you care for some refreshment?" She took his arm and led him away almost before he'd replied with an enthusiastic affirmative. Turning, she nearly tripped over the children who had all stayed to listen and to watch.
"Come along, Lily, Thomas. Mr. Malloy needs some time alone with his," she almost choked, "fiancée."
The children ran off with the other three and disappeared into the crowd, probably to tell everything they'd heard.
"The word sort of sticks in your throat, doesn't it?" Reed's partner asked.
She looked up at John Trelaine, blushing furiously. Did he know?
"Sticks in mine, anyway," he told her, not waiting for a reply. "And I've had a lot longer to get used to the idea. That woman jabbered at me across eight states, and I can't say when I've been happier that it was the brevity of train travel versus a journey by coach. Still, three days escorting Mrs. Belgrave goes beyond my duty as law partner and good friend."
"It's understandable that she should be worried about Mr. Malloy," Charlotte offered, trying to sound gracious when she felt like spitting nails. "She must love him very much to come all this way."
They stopped at the punch table, and John Trelaine handed her a cup before taking one for himself, adding a little something extra from a silver flask he kept in his coat pocket.
"Would you care for some sustenance?" He gestured to the flask.
"Oh, I would," Charlotte allowed, letting him pour a generous portion of the clear liquid into her cup. "Thank you." They both turned to look at the handsome couple they'd left on the edge of the dance floor.
"Oh don't let this dramatic little trip out west fool you." He paused and looked at her directly.
Charlotte confirmed her first impression—he did have kind eyes, but there was a hint of annoyance now in his gaze.
"If I may be so frank, Miss Sanborn, there is only one thing Mrs. Belgrave loves and that is Mrs. Belgrave."
Charlotte didn't know how to respond to this, so she sipped her punch and coughed only once as the doctored liquid slipped searingly down her throat. She looked
over to where Reed still conversed with the raven-haired beauty.
It did, certainly, look like anything but a lover's tête-a-tête; Reed was somber, his mouth in a straight, hard line whenever his fiancée spoke.
Helen, in turn, appeared stone-faced, speaking in short clipped words; her breeding and manners dictated that she remain cool and her face emotionless. When someone passed closely, she immediately flashed a dazzling smile that died just as quickly when she looked at Reed. Eventually, her eyes met Charlotte's across the room, and the mask slipped to reveal unadulterated wrath.
Charlotte shivered and turned to John Trelaine. "She is a widow?"
"Yes, for about four years. Her husband was a Boston blue blood, as they say. About as old as Methuselah," he added, taking another swallow of punch.
"Sometimes love makes its appearance in unexpected forms," Charlotte surmised.
John Trelaine's eyes were sharp as he looked at her. "You are an intelligent woman, Miss Sanborn. I have read your work. I think you're forward-thinking, too, on social issues. Am I right?"
She nodded, though she couldn't imagine to what he was referring.
"So it may come as no surprise to you that I believe theirs is a loveless union, but perhaps I could shock you by telling you that they have been a couple of convenience for going on three years. And still, no marriage banns have been read out in the church, no announcements in the paper, and no ring on her finger. I believe the convenience is all on Reed's side."
Charlotte's puzzled brow made him smile. "He keeps her close to keep others away. No woman in Boston would dare cross the path of Helen Belgrave. But you—"
"Me?" Charlotte was startled into interrupting him. Undeniably, this lawyer was as perceptive as his partner. She took another gulp of her punch.
"Mrs. Belgrave is no fool, Miss Sanborn. She knows as well as I that Reed could have sent one of our junior associates to carry out this task. He didn't. Instead, he came more than two thousand miles to meet you, having first read all of your work that he could get his hands on."
The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set Page 20