Unveiled. Part 5

Only one thing dimmed her pleasure, and that was the longing she felt for her family and especially her son. Still, she had been able to send them funds, so they were well taken care of. She missed them terribly, but knowing she was helping them a.s.suaged her guilt.

"Are you ready?" He stood aside for her and indicated the aisle. "We can all have a late dinner and then I'll take you home. You must be starved."

"I couldn't eat a thing," Bertrice declared, then reddened when Christopher looked at her in amus.e.m.e.nt. She was laced so tightly that she really couldn't eat, though her mother had insisted that real ladies never did anyway.

"I'm famished," Katie confessed. "It must be the weather here-I always want to eat."

"Here's the carriage," Charles announced as they walked to the end of the line. "We'll get some food in no time."

Smiling, Katie entered the coach with Christopher and gave Bertrice an encouraging look. The young girl blushed, then glanced shyly at her companion. Please, Katie thought. Let this work out for her. Bertrice was trying so hard that she sometimes made Charles nervous, and Katie had to fill in gaps in the conversation.

Glancing out the window, Katie heard the crash of the sea, saw the bright glimmer of the moon on an ink-black ocean. The breeze was warm and sultry, carrying the scent of summer flowers and the unrelenting smell of the ocean. The sand wrapped around the water like the stole on a woman's shoulders, and night sounds of crickets and sh.o.r.e birds mingled with the music of the waves.

They stopped at a small inn that was known for good food. The waiter led them to a small table clothed in white linen with a vase of fresh roses in the center. He took Charles and Bertrice's order, then turned to Christopher. "Do you mind if I order?" When Katie shook her head, Christopher spoke to the young waiter. "Bring us the sea trout, a baked potato with cream, and whatever fresh vegetables you have. And a bottle of your best white wine."

The waiter nodded while Katie glanced around the pretty room. Done in a stylish ornate wallpaper, it would have been oppressive like so many other houses, but the colors were all pastels. The effect was beautiful instead of gaudy, and the windows were open, allowing the soft breeze to billow the curtains.

"It's so beautiful," Katie commented, turning to Bertrice. "Don't you think so?"

"Yes," Bertrice said. "I always thought this place was lovely."

"Not nearly so lovely as you," Charles said gallantly.

Bertrice turned even redder, then fanned herself quickly. Katie held her own breath as she saw Bertrice grab her chair as if for support, her color dropping alarmingly. Charles stared in confusion as the young girl gasped, her eyelids fluttering.

"No, Bertrice!" Reaching for her friend, Katie blushed in mortification for her as Bertrice slipped into a faint and tumbled to the floor.

"Waiter! Bring some water!" Christopher shouted, and together he and Charles lifted the young girl back to her seat.

"d.a.m.ned stays!" Charles swore. "She always laces them too tightly. Women's clothes these days are like torture chambers!"

Silently Katie agreed. She helped Bertrice sip the water that the waiter brought, then the young girl looked around the room, obviously disoriented.

"Where? Oh no, Fan, I didn't..." Humiliated beyond belief, Bertrice looked up at Charles as if she wanted to die.

"You're all right," Charles rea.s.sured her. "You had the vapors. Would you like to lie down?"

"I can't-" Bertrice staggered to her feet and raced for the door.

"I'll go after her," Charles volunteered, leaving Katie and Christopher behind.

"Do you think we should follow?" Worried, Katie still stared in the direction of the door. To her surprise, Christopher chuckled.

"No, I don't think so. Bertrice's problem has always been too much solicitous help. A few moments alone with Charles could do what would otherwise require two months of courts.h.i.+p. I have a feeling that our young friend isn't as dim-witted as everyone thinks." He gave her a grin. "Besides, that means I have you all to myself."

Suppressing a smile, Katie hoped that he was right. Bertrice needed all the help she could get with her confidence, and if a faint helped, she was all for it. A thrill of excitement went through her as she thought of Christopher's words. It was scandalous, dining alone with a man. Yet it was also...wonderful.

The waiter returned, bringing them wine. Katie sighed, drinking deeply of the delicate liquid. She could barely eat the food, for Clarise had insisted on lacing her tightly, so she had to be content with drinking and taking tiny bites of the dinner. The room took on a fuzzy hue and she felt a delicious warmth penetrate her toes. Christopher really was so handsome, she thought dreamily, admiring the way the gaslights shone on his black hair. And charming. And kind...

"Are you having a good time, Fan?"

He said her name softly, and Katie wished she could tell him the truth, have him look at her that way and call her by her own name. "I am," Katie said, reminding herself that he could never know who she truly was. "I love the sh.o.r.e. It's so pretty here."

"There's a legend about Cape May, that Blackbeard's treasure is buried here." He grinned at her incredulous expression. "Men come here and dig for it. Some of the locals even sell maps, all of them authentic, of course."

"Of course." Katie smiled, entranced by the prospect of treasure. "Do you think it's true?"

"Here, anything is possible." He appeared withdrawn for a moment, as if thinking to himself, then he glanced at her and shrugged. "Who knows?"

He was so good-looking. Katie nearly drowned in his eyes. Something in his grin told her she was revealing her thoughts, so she drank down the rest of her wine quickly, trying to sound intelligent, and as if his presence didn't affect her in the least. "Can you imagine having all that money? A pirate's treasure must be worth a fortune."

He stared at her strangely for a moment, then sipped from his coffee cup. "Well, I should think you could imagine," he said carefully. "After all, the Pembertons aren't exactly broke. Your family has a good deal of money. I think you would know exactly what it was like."

For some reason it was getting difficult to talk. "Yes, I know we Pembertons are rich. But the treasure just seems so much more romantic, or something."

"Money is money, in whatever shape or form. And in this time and this country, it means everything. No one can do without it. It changes a bricklayer into n.o.bility, a pauper into a prince. We wors.h.i.+p a golden idol in America, that much is for certain."

There was something odd about his voice. Katie s.h.i.+vered, wondering what made the fabulously wealthy Christopher Scott sound so philosophical. As if reading her mind, he continued. "Enough of that. I recall earlier you had some difficulty discussing Impressionist paintings. Were you skipping cla.s.s on the days they lectured on modern art?"

His smile was so charming that Katie grinned back, unaware that her smile was slightly lopsided. She only knew that the world had taken on a special glow, and that it had something to do with herself and Christopher. She fought to remember what they were talking about, and not notice that his hair was even a deeper black than she had imagined, or that his muscles looked exceptionally well formed beneath his coat, like one of those statues.... Art! That was it. "I wasn't very good at painting," she admitted.

"I thought as much. I picture you more as a tomboy, interested in tossing s...o...b..a.l.l.s and playing hopscotch, than as a bluestocking. Am I right?"

Katie nodded. "That's it exactly. What about you?"

"I was a ne'er-do-well," he confessed without approbation. "I thought life was a game for me to enjoy. It wasn't until I grew up that I found out differently." He shrugged as if the matter wasn't worth much thought. "I think we're all wise as children. It's only later that we mess things up."

There was something so appealing about him in this mood. Christopher's brand of charm was all the more dangerous because it was uncontrived. She couldn't imagine his childhood, filled with toys and pleasure, without any worry of the next meal. She closed her eyes as she thought of her son. G.o.d, what she wouldn't do to have him grow up like Christopher-happy, carefree, and easy. Instead he would know nothing but work and poverty.

He smiled and something in his expression took her breath away. Maybe it was the wine, but for a moment she thought that he would kiss her, so intent was his look. Instead he signaled for the waiter and ordered coffee and brandy.

"Now this," he said with a grin, "is the only way to drink coffee." Taking up the snifter of brandy, he poured a liberal amount into his cup and an equal amount into hers.

Katie grinned back, then tried the concoction. The brandy added a unique flavor to the pungent brew and warmed her even more. Used to whiskey and beer, she knew how much of those liquors she could imbibe without trouble, but fine wines and French brandies were another matter. Katie drank down the coffee, barely aware that her brogue had deepened, or that she was gazing at Christopher with something close to adoration.

"Isn't it wonderful, having money?" she asked, then hiccuped softly. She seemed surprised at the sound that emerged from her mouth and she shrugged, giving up on conjecture as to how it happened.

"Yes, it's wonderful," Christopher agreed. "I think I should call for the check."

"Oh, yes, let's get our waiter back. He's very nice, don't you think?"

Amused, Christopher watched as Katie called the waiter, then greeted him with a dazzling smile. "Sir, I must ask you, what is your name?"

The waiter stared at her imperviously. "Cartwright, Miss. William Cartwright."

"Ah, just like my old uncle w.i.l.l.y. He used to drink and sing from the rooftops. A chimney sweep, I believe." Katie hiccuped again and grinned. "Do you have an uncle like that?"

"I believe not, miss," the waiter said, though he struggled to remain stern. Understanding, Christopher indicated the check and the waiter produced a bill.

"That's a shame. Isn't that a shame, Christopher? He doesn't have an Uncle w.i.l.l.y. Everyone should have one."

"Yes, you're right, we should all have Uncle w.i.l.l.ys. Come on now, Fan. I think I should take you home."

Katie pouted, but when she rose, she noticed that the room was a little unsteady and that Christopher seemed amused by something. He led her to the coach and she giggled as she nearly missed the first step. Christopher caught her and she fell into his arms, loving the way he felt against her, warm and secure.

"Did your mother come from Ireland...?" she sang loudly, her voice lilting and beautiful. She barely noticed that he chuckled, or that he helped her into the coach and called to the driver. Instead he sang with her, his own rich voice blending with hers. Giggling, Katie led the chorus, ending the song on her front porch as they somehow managed to stop, disembark from the coach, then clamber up the steps.

"Not bad, Christopher Scott. Of the Philadelphia Scotts." Katie grinned, then balanced herself against the door. That proved easier than standing alone, and she found she could almost do it without his help, though he continued to hold her.

"You're not bad yourself, Miss Pemberton." He grinned at her expression. "You know, I think I'm glad you forced me to court you. I'm having a pretty good time." She tried to take a swing at him, but he easily caught her arm before she could make contact. The laughter left his eyes and he looked serious, almost intent. "I meant what I said, Fan. I want you like I've never wanted another woman. And I mean to have you. Resign yourself to that."

Katie s.h.i.+vered. It was almost prophetic the way he spoke. It wasn't until he started laughing that she realized perhaps he was joking. But something inside her told her he wasn't.

He paused for a moment, then reluctantly released her hand. Barely touching her face, he brushed aside a stray wisp of dark hair and spoke softly. "Good night, Fan."

His head bent and his lips gently brushed hers, giving her just enough of a kiss to make her want more. Sighing, Katie reached up on her toes and slid her arms around his neck. His response was immediate and left her breathless. Tightening his embrace, he deepened the kiss, making her gasp with astonishment and pleasure.

It was perfect. His mouth left hers to brush her neck lightly, creating wonderful sensations that raced through her blood. When he finally released her, Katie was trembling. She heard his husky laughter as he tipped her face up to his, and his eyes had darkened to the color of raw whiskey.

"I'd better leave," he said softly. "Before I can't. Soon I won't have to leave you at all." His hand lightly touched her nose, then lingered, brus.h.i.+ng against her lips. Then he turned and walked down the stairs, almost physically forcing his body from hers.

Confused, Katie watched him go. What was happening to her? Not even John Sweeney had affected her like this, though his kisses had been pleasant enough. Exhilaration rushed through her and she swirled on the porch, her dress floating around her. Never had she felt so beautiful, alive and full of joy. Something wonderful was finally happening to her. Maybe G.o.d had forgiven her.

Maybe she had been given a second chance.

SEVEN.

"Well, it's about time, miss. A little late for Frances Pemberton, don't you think?"

Startled, Katie opened her eyes and immediately shaded them from the bright sunlight. She pulled a pillow over her head and moaned. "Will you shut those curtains? My head feels like a carriage has run over it."

Eileen shook her head. "It's nigh past ten. The madam's been up for two hours and been fretting about ye, though I could have told her the truth. Out drinking and roaming the town with Mr. Scott. And singing at the top of your lungs like some fish woman! Scandalous, that's what I say! The blood will show, that it will."

"I did no such thing!" Katie sat up abruptly, the pillow tumbling from her head. The throbbing inside her brain increased, but reality was even worse. It couldn't possibly be true and yet...

"You most certainly did. I couldn't sleep, what with all that racket on the porch, so I fixed myself a pot of tea. Didn't expect to hear that kind of noise, and I imagine all the neighbors did as well." Eileen scowled as Katie winced in embarra.s.sment. "Are ye trying to create another scandal for Frances?"

"No," Katie said quickly, then grasped her head. The slightest movement made it throb like a thousand pinp.r.i.c.ks. "Christopher...I mean, he ordered this wine, and then brandy in the coffee. I'm not used to drinking such things."

"Ach, and you've not the head for it, either. I've got a gla.s.s of tomato juice with a jigger of whiskey in it. Used to do it for me own Johnny when I was a girl. d.a.m.ned fool notion! Going out with that gentleman and getting stinking drunk like an old sot."

Katie winced, then managed to sit up and take the noisome potion from Eileen's tray. The housekeeper nodded as she wrinkled her nose and took a sip. "Drink it all. It will help take the poison from your blood. I managed to hide this from the madam, though I suppose she'll hear about it from the gossips."

Katie obeyed, choking at the awful taste of the stuff. But she drank it all down, her stomach rumbling alarmingly. The nausea soon pa.s.sed, and within a few minutes she was feeling almost human.

"Good. The color's come back to your face. d.a.m.ned foolishness!" Eileen's expression grew stern and she eyed Katie like an unhappy schoolmarm. "Now that you're feeling better, I think it's time you and me had a little talk."

Katie grimaced. Her head hadn't stopped pounding and she looked at Eileen pleadingly. "Does it have to be now!"

Eileen nodded. "When my Johnny had a bad head was the only time he made sense. What I want to know, miss, is what are ye up to?"

"What do you mean?" Katie asked, puzzled.

Eileen scoffed. "You know what I'm asking. I am the only person who seems to realize that you are not Fan Pemberton. You are Katie O'Connor, you live in the Irish ward of the city, and you've worked as a maid. I checked your references. Mrs. Westcott had nothing but good things to say about you, as did your previous employer, so we needn't worry about the silver. But I want to know what you think you're doing. Carrying on, posing as Frances..."

"It makes Mrs. Pemberton happy," Katie said defensively.

"It does make her happy, and that's what has me worried. What do you think can come of all this? When you were just acting as Fan, that was one thing. But allowing Mr. Scott to see you! He will find out the truth, I know that as sure as I know Killarney's green. And what will happen then?"

Katie shrugged. "I'm not doing anything wrong! Mr. Scott knew Fan Pemberton. If he wants to spend some time with me, I don't see how that could hurt-"

"He's courting you, miss!" Eileen said, aghast. "Do you really mean to marry that man?"

"No!" Katie gasped in surprise. "I know things have gotten out of hand," she admitted when Eileen gave her an odd look. "I never meant for any of this to happen. It just sort of...s...o...b..lled."

"Well, it's time you did something about it now. Fooling with that man can only lead to trouble. He has a background, schooling, money-"

"Are you saying I'm not good enough for him?" Katie asked indignantly.

Eileen snorted. "I'm saying nothing of the kind. If anyone knows that money doesn't make the man, it's me. No, I'm saying that it's one thing to fool a senile old woman. It's another to fool a rich society man." At the doubt on Katie's face, she continued: "I know you've got your own troubles-the Irish are born with them. Is it worth the risk just to have the young man's company? When it comes to l.u.s.t, one man's as good as the next. Do you need to be playing with Mr. Scott?"

"Enough," Katie snapped, unwilling to listen to any more. Eileen was like a walking conscience. "I'll think about it. Now, if you'll kindly hand me my robe, I am going to try to dress before Madam Pemberton gets too worried. Do you mind?" She indicated the door.

Eileen sighed. There were some folks who were determined to get themselves into mischief. And Katie O'Connor was apparently one of them.

Katie waited until the door closed, then sank down on the feather bed. She had really done it this time. Mortification flooded through her as she pictured the previous night. She could remember herself hanging on Christopher's words, gazing at him from across the table...My G.o.d, he must be laughing this morning! she thought.

Then the singing. Although she wanted nothing more than to deny Eileen's words, she could remember herself warbling on the way home, belting out the lyrics of an old, romantic Irish tune.

And then...Katie paled as she recalled their goodbye. Although most of it was fuzzy, she had no difficulty remembering their pa.s.sionate kiss, and Christopher's sensual a.s.surance that soon he would never have to leave her.

Katie wished the bed would open up and swallow her. Frances Pemberton would never have done such a thing. She would have delicately sipped her wine, eaten next to nothing, then politely bade him good-bye. She never would have gotten tipsy, sung at the top of her lungs, and then permitted him to take liberties on the front porch. Katie had revealed herself as fully as if she were naked. My G.o.d, what had she been thinking?

She couldn't see him again. Christopher Scott was too dangerous. Unlike Ella Pemberton, he was already suspicious of her-she could tell that by the probing questions he asked and the confusion he manifested at some of her answers. Even the most obtuse man would have a few questions at this point, and Christopher was far from stupid. If he started asking around, he could arouse suspicion, cause more inquiries...perhaps even make Ella Pemberton look more closely at the situation.

Katie sighed. She couldn't start over, not now. She had sent most of her money back home to take care of her son. She'd be hard pressed at this point to come up with transportation money to return to Philadelphia, and her own private scandal awaited her there. Wealthy women were not willing to overlook the fact that she had a child out of wedlock. She had managed to stay one step ahead of her reputation, but it always, inevitably, caught up with her. No, she simply had to keep this job.

So she would have to discourage him. Katie closed her eyes, swallowing down the tightness in her throat. She didn't remember everything about the previous night, but she did know one thing. She had enjoyed it. Christopher had made her feel beautiful, special, and respectable. He had acted like the luckiest man in the world just to be with her, a feeling that was even more intoxicating than the wine. And when he kissed her...Katie recalled the awesome feeling of being taken out of herself, given a glimpse of a world that she had suspected existed but never really experienced. She'd made love only once before, and it had not been pleasant. But Christopher's kiss promised something altogether different, and the woman in her already mourned for the loss of that experience. But she had no choice. Christopher Scott had become too much of a threat.

And more than she could risk.