by Laura Parker
He looked as though she’d slapped him, and she was instantly sorry. It wasn’t his fault that he’d found himself in the thick of a scandalous liaison. As for the rest, she was as much to blame as he for entering into an engagement whose suitability had more to do with family fortunes and connections than like-minded hearts.
She rose and held out the ring. “Don’t look so stricken. I’m only saying what you’re too kind and gentle to say.” When he didn’t move to take it, she tucked the ring into his breast pocket. “I don’t expect you to saddle yourself with a wife whose father has been falsely accused of a terrible crime. You’ve your future to think of. You’ve expectations. Your father hopes to see you win a seat in Congress. I’d only be a burden, a hindrance, a millstone. Besides, I don’t think I’d like politics.”
She turned him by the shoulder and pushed him gently toward the door. “Now run along and tell your father that I wish you nothing but good.”
Harry Collsworth faced her when he reached the door, and there was hurt and puzzlement in his fair, handsome face. His father had warned him that Philly might fight the breaking of the engagement. After all, she’d lost everything else. She would be desperate, might even threaten to sue him for breach of promise, and scandal was the last thing a promising young lawyer could afford. But Philly hadn’t threatened anything of the sort. He had known she wouldn’t and he was proud of her. Just wait till he told his father how she’d given him the ring without his even asking for it. He felt his cheeks begin to burn as he remembered the check he carried in his pocket. And to think he’d nearly been persuaded by his father into trying to buy her off.
“I do love you, Philly. I did and I do. I won’t think of it as over between us. This’ll pass. People will forget. In time. You’ll see.”
“Good-bye and good luck, Harry,” she said with calm finality.
“Bye, Philly.” Feeling in equal amounts chastened and relieved, Harry slipped out of the room and out of her life.
Only when he had gone did Philadelphia allow her shoulders to slump. How much more was she to endure?
A moment later a knock sounded on the door and she rose to open it reluctantly. If it were Harry, begging her to take back his ring, she thought she would slap his face. “Why, Sally, you’re right on time.”
A small woman in a black cotton dress and bonnet stepped inside, surveyed the tiny room, and sniffed. “Goodness gracious! I’ve seen closets bigger than this.”
Philadelphia smiled. “Perhaps so, but they were probably less expensive. I never realized the potential in renting closet space until now.”
The Hunts’ housekeeper marched over to a cabinet and ran her hand along the surface. “Dust! Where’s the maid who’s seeing after you these days? She’ll think twice about not leaving a room in order once I’ve finished with her.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t one.” Philadelphia turned away. “Anyway, there’s nothing left to see to, aside from my black drapery.”
The small woman’s face went white. “Oh, Miss Philly, I didn’t think!”
Philadelphia turned back, forcing a bright smile to her lips. “Now, Sally, you mustn’t depress me. I sent for you to give you your wages. I took care of the other servants before the house was vacated.”
Sally sniffed, drew out a white handkerchief, and blew into it. “Who’d ever have thought I’d live to see this day? It’s terrible and wrong. I served your papa all your life. I’d work for you for free if I could.”
Philadelphia resisted the desire to put her arms around the woman. One moment of weakness and she knew she’d dissolve into tears. Harry had been easier to deal with because there’d been her own anger to work against. She pulled a purse from her pocket. “Here’s all but the last week of your wages, Sally. I promise to send you the difference within the month.”
Sally stared at the purse as though it were a baited trap. “But if it’s all you have, how will you live?”
“I’ve prospects, Sally.”
The older woman brightened. “Then it’s worked out. You’re going to your cousins in St. Louis?”
Philadelphia’s smile soured. “I’m afraid not. They don’t relish the idea of housing the subject of gossip beneath their roof. There are the children to think of.”
“Then what will you do?”
Philadelphia absently raised a hand to massage her throbbing temples. “Right now I’m going to have a cup of tea and then go to bed. It’s been a difficult day.”
Sally eyed the young woman closely and wasn’t pleased by what she saw. “You look thin. Are you ailing?”
“Don’t fuss, Sally. I just need rest. Now take this purse. Don’t make me beg you.”
Sally hesitated, but after all, there wasn’t anything she could do. She took the money reluctantly. “The Lord keep you, Miss Philly. And if you need anything—”
“Just keep me in your prayers. I mean to clear my father’s name and that won’t make me any more popular in this city.”
“You be careful, Miss Philly.”
“I intend to do just that. Do you like your new job, Sally?”
“Yes, miss. I’m working for Dr. Ames. His wife’s a bit of a chatterbox, but I know how to shut her up.”
The two women exchanged knowing glances for, undoubtedly, Mrs. Ames’s favorite conversation was the Hunt scandal.
When Sally was gone, Philadelphia leaned against the door and closed her eyes, waiting for the painful throbbing to subside. She hadn’t cried in more than a week now. It didn’t seem worthwhile to cry over each and every difficult task. Her tears would never stop. The day had been abominably long but now it was over.
The knock sounding against her ear made her jump. “Who is it?” she demanded.
“A friend,” came the masculine reply.
Philadelphia put her hand on the lock to secure it even as she said, “My friends have names. What is yours?”
Again she heard a polite yet unfamiliar voice answer. “I phrase myself badly. I wish only to speak to you on a matter which could prove beneficial to us both.”
She shook her head slowly. Would people never leave her alone? “I’ve had enough of reporters and journalists. Seek sensation somewhere else.”
“I am not a reporter.”
Something in his liquid tone, rich and deep as brandy, caught her attention. She had heard that voice before. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door a crack. There under the gaslight was the handsome foreigner who had escorted her down the stairway of her home three days earlier. “You were at the auction.”
He inclined his head, the hall light playfully slipping along the deep waves of his black hair. “I was there.”
“Who are you and what do you want?”
He smiled and it increased his appeal. “I am Eduardo Domingo Xavier Tavares.”
Philadelphia clutched the door tightly. “Your name means nothing to me.”
Eduardo noticed that her knuckles were white where she held the door. He’d been impatient to see her, having waited on the landing for a very red-faced young gentleman to leave her room and then a maid, who’d pushed past him to reach her door first. Still he did not want to frighten her. Her head was not held as high as it had been throughout the afternoon of the auction. The realization of her anxiety quelled his impatience. “You must be exhausted, senhorita, but won’t you allow me to come in and speak privately with you?”
Philadelphia closed the door a little. “No.”
In a determinedly sensible tone he said, “I don’t object to conversing in the hallway but your neighbors seem the curious sort and …” He glanced discreetly over his shoulder.
Even as his voice trailed off she followed his glance and noticed that the door opposite hers was ajar. Her mouth tightened in anger. She was aware that her every action was monitored. What did they expect her to do? What outrageous act did they think she would commit?
“You’re wondering if you should be talk
ing to a stranger, a foreigner,” he said quietly. “I can assure you your neighbors wouldn’t approve.”
“I’m beyond being distressed by the opinion of busybodies,” she answered tartly and swung open her door. “You may come in, but only for a moment.”
Eduardo entered the tiny room and looked about in amazement. He knew that she was no longer wealthy but somehow he had thought she would fare better than this. The room was cramped, the ceiling low, the single window small and draped in velvet that looked rusty with age. When he turned to her, he saw her blush and was instantly sorry for the expression that must have been on his face. But how to begin? Where to begin?
Embarrassed at being caught staring, Philadelphia moved to a nearby chair and sat down. Yet she hadn’t been able to help herself. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, though not in the conventional manner. A little above average height, he was lean and broad-shouldered and dressed completely in black. Everything about him was dark; his crimped black hair, his deep black eyes. Even his skin was a deep bronze rather than the healthy ruddy complexion she’d been taught to value in a man. By his speech, he was a foreigner. He was not the sort of man she would ever have had traffic with under ordinary circumstances.
Still, she was too well-trained to allow her surprise to supersede her manners. “Please sit down. You wish to speak with me … ?”
“Senhor Tavares,” he supplied, softly rolling the r’s as he sat in the only other chair in the room.
“You’re Portuguese?”
He smiled, pleased that she knew something of languages. “Brazilian.”
The fine hairs rose on the back of Philadelphia’s neck as she stared at the handsome man. Brazil! One of the letters in her possession mentioned Brazil. “You’ve come to speak to me about my father?”
Eduardo took a seat opposite her. “Let’s say I’m a person who’s taken a special interest in you.”
The reply put her further on guard. “You’ve heard the gossip, the reason for the auction, the reasons for—”
She broke off as he raised a finger to his lips, as though to admonish a child. “Senhorita, you need not speak of this to me. It has nothing to do with you.”
She was struck by the plum-black eyes regarding her frankly. There was nothing disrespectful in his gaze yet it seemed to include everything at once. It was as if he were able to draw an object to himself for closer inspection simply by looking at it. She felt that pull very strongly yet refused to look away. “You’re wrong, senhor. What happened to my father concerns me very much. He was not a thief. I knew him better than anyone and I know he was incapable of any wrong. His life was destroyed by lies. I am the only one left to prove his innocence.” She thought she saw pity move across his face before being replaced by—what was it?
“Senhorita, can anyone know another completely?” he said quietly. “Strangers who’ve spent but five minutes together may know more about one another than people who’ve spent their entire lives beneath the same roof. To believe otherwise is to discount the secrets in every heart.”
“I know my father was innocent.”
He shrugged. “I only offer an observation. Sometimes we revere things that are the least worthy of our reverence.”
“That’s insulting!”
He regarded her solemnly. “No, senhorita, only honest. Honesty requires bravery and a willingness to seek, not our desire, but reality. Often, none of us is what we seem.”
Philadelphia put a hand to her temples. He wasn’t making sense, or was it only the inflection of his words that made them seem strange and nonsensical? “I’m very tired.”
He glanced once more at the meager surroundings, then back at her. “Have you had your supper? I haven’t. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to accompany me to a place where we might share a meal.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve had more than enough of whispers and stares for one day.”
Eduardo saw her gaze move to the door and knew that she wanted him to leave. A man of great passion must learn great patience. His grandmother had told him that when, as a little boy, he had accidentally crushed a kitten to death by trying to hold on to it when it wanted its freedom. He wanted something very badly now, and he knew enough not to crush it.
“Very well. I’ll be brief.” He crossed his arms before his chest. “I wish to say first that I very much admire you, Senhorita Hunt. You have spirit and courage, and passion. You’re proud, and not without cause. You’re beautiful and yet I would not call you vain.”
Philadelphia knew she was staring at him, but his arrogance and the utter confidence with which he spoke astounded her. “Do go on, senhor. I’m not yet certain whether I should be flattered or insulted.”
“Most certainly you should be flattered! What you did the other afternoon—the manner in which you handled those idiots who were predisposed to hold their purse strings tight—it was fascinating! You’re a merchant of infinite skill.”
Indignation dispelled for the moment her weariness. “I didn’t enjoy selling my father’s possessions! I did what I had to do to prevent the humiliation of losing them to people who wouldn’t cherish them as my father did.”
“And you were successful. I believed every word you spoke. That’s why I’m here. I’m the owner of gem mines in Brazil. We mine mostly topazes, amethysts, a few rubies, and there is some gold. Like your father, I’m a collector. At present I’m in your country to sell a few very fine pieces of jewelry. The stones are beautiful but they need the proper setting in order to be best appreciated.
“Listening to you the other day, it suddenly came to me, the perfect way to insure that my jewels will bring the fortune they deserve. I have come to ask you to wear my pieces to the fashionable places in your fine city. I will pay you, of course. Once my jewels are seen about the neck of someone of your beauty and taste, I should have no trouble selling them.”
Philadelphia continued to stare at him. He couldn’t be serious? Gem mines and gold, indeed. His clothes were expensive and she hadn’t missed the heavy gold ring on his right hand but he could hardly expect her to believe that he was some fabulously wealthy man who required her assistance to wear his gems. His story was more fantastic than the one she’d told about Mei Ling. He must think her a complete fool. “This is a poor joke, senhor.”
“But I’m most serious.”
“Then allow me to broaden your education with regard to my countrymen,” she said primly. “The accusations of embezzlement against my father, his subsequent bankruptcy and death have all made me infamous. Infamy is not a preferred situation for an American lady. My family has disowned me and my former friends will no longer associate with me. If I went about in public in the vulgar manner you suggest, I’d be snubbed or, worse, the jewels might well be confiscated in order to provide more revenue for my father’s remaining debts. You’ve chosen the wrong merchant, senhor.” She stood up, trembling. “Good-bye!”
In admiration mixed with consternation he rose to his feet. Every objection she made was a good one, and he hadn’t thought of any of them himself. “Peste! I am a fool!”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t presume to contradict you.”
He cast her a look that made her draw a quick breath. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, senhorita. I shall go now but I shall return when I’ve sorted out these minor difficulties.”
He left so quickly that she did not have a chance to tell him not to bother to return. When he was gone all that remained was the faint odor of … of … perfume.
Philadelphia put a hand to her mouth to forestall the laughter that moved within her. Well, it wasn’t precisely perfume. Certainly no lady would have worn a scent that seemed a mixture of spice and wood. She supposed it was a masculine fragrance though American men didn’t wear scents. Yet Senhor Tavares was imposingly masculine, with those wide-set black eyes that saw much more than was proper. Perhaps it was a trait of Brazilian men to wear perfume and address ridiculous pro
posals to destitute young women.
She shook her head as she locked her door. She’d been very foolish to allow him into her room, a mistake she wouldn’t repeat. If he came back, and she doubted that he would, she wouldn’t let him in. It had been a ridiculous finish to a disastrous day.
Only when she had turned out the light and climbed between the covers did she remember her surroundings. With sobering resolution, she tried unsuccessfully to put everything out of her mind. She was really and truly alone in the world now, with no home, no friends, no one to turn to.
“You might have been braver, Harry,” she whispered sleepily as a tear slid out from beneath her closed lids.
“Pass the potatoes, dearie,” said Mrs. Watson with a cheery smile at Philadelphia. “You should take another serving for yourself, too. A man likes a bit of a curve in his lady’s cheek. Doesn’t he, Mr. Miller?” she asked of the man on her left.
“Yes, ma’am!” Mr. Miller’s large balding head bobbed up and down as he gave Philadelphia a speculative glance. “A man likes something to hold on to.”
Philadelphia passed the mashed potatoes without comment. For three days now, she had shared her meals with the other boarding house guests. The experience was not improving with familiarity.
“Mr. Jones, I would so favor another slice of that most delicious ham,” Mrs. Watson said to the man seated across from her and bestowed a smile on him. A rather plain woman with a plump figure and lively blue eyes, she was nonetheless a favorite among the male boarders because of her flirtatious manner. “Mr. Watson always said that he liked his ham to resemble a lady’s lips, tender and moist with just a hint of pink!”
Philadelphia set her fork down as the woman’s twittering encouraged the rough laughter of the two traveling salesmen sharing the table this night.
“You’ve a rare way with words, Mrs. Watson,” the one named Jones said. “Wouldn’t you agree, miss?”
Philadelphia looked across the table to see the mustachioed man grinning wickedly at her. Before she could stop herself she said, “It’s a very vulgar way.”