Passion Over Time (11 page)

A tall, thin young man stood there in the doorway of the back room, holding a black physician’s bag. A gentleman with refined features and dark chocolate eyes that always seemed to burn with emotion.

He’d come to check on Ruth, even though she was doing quite well of late. Beth resented how he used his profession as an excuse to keep coming to this house. Privately, she’d repeatedly told him to stop coming. But if she protested too loudly, it would raise suspicions. “I wish you would leave, Dr. Wade.”

“You haven’t been going to Mrs. Bickle’s lately.”

“I was there just Saturday.”

“Yes, and recently you had a quarrel with a gentleman. A New York merchant—Mr. Asahel Sexton.”

Heart thudding, Beth stared at him without blinking. “Is that his name?”

“Don’t insult me with that innocent act. You went chasing after him, publicly quarreled with him, but you don’t know his name?”

At the thought of her rashness that day at Mrs. Bickle’s, Beth’s stomach suddenly felt lighter than air. Her heart pounded almost deafeningly in her ears and she began to become a bit lightheaded. But all right— so she had argued with a gentleman in public. It didn’t signify anything, did it? She schooled her expression to remain cool. “He insulted me.”

“Your distant, dreamy eyes. The flush in your cheeks of late. Don’t think I don’t realize you’ve another lover now.”

A cruel, satisfied smile tugged at her mouth. Dr. Joshua Wade had no idea the things she had done since he had forsaken her for his fresh, innocent bride. He’d thought to keep Beth as a mistress. He had thought wrong. “You have no say over what I do.”

“Yes, I know.” He compressed his lips, his expression frosting over.

“I have no lover now.”

His eyes became like twin flames. “But you did.”

“I did.” A vicious wave of satisfaction rippled through her, followed by immediate shame. She didn’t like this woman she’d become. This brittle person who’d arisen from the broken pieces after Joshua threw her away. Just one more reason to hate him.

“It’s killing me, Beth. Does that make you happy? Do you enjoy feasting on my heart?”

“Aren’t you being a little dog in the manger, Dr. Wade?”

“I wish you’d promise not to see him anymore—”

“Dr. Wade, shouldn’t you be home with your wife?”

Ruth’s voice sounded unnaturally loud and Beth startled. Her sister stood by the stair rail in her nightgown and wrapper, carrying her candleholder.

Joshua straightened his dark blue jacket into place with much dignity. His sensual mouth twisted. In the flickering lamp light, the gesture appeared to be a sneer. He should’ve left long ere now. Yet he’d lingered and risked compromising her.

How had she ever loved this selfish man?

Ruth snorted. “Too fine and good to marry my sister but not too good to come sniffing around her like—”

Beth sucked in her breath. Oh God. Oh dear God. She should speak. She should refute Ruth’s words.

But she couldn’t find her tongue.

“You know nothing about it,” Joshua replied coldly. He grabbed his hat and strode to the back door.

* * * *

“For God’s sake, Elizabeth, do you have to toss and turn like that?” Ruth took the coverlet into her hands and turned away from Beth.

Beth turned onto her back. A strand of her hair settled on her nose and tickled her. She blew it away.

“And stop that infernal huffing and puffing. Mercy, it’s two in the morning!” Ruth said.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the ceiling. “I am sorry.”

“Well, I don’t understand. If you miss Joshua so much, why not simply let him put you up in a house.”

“Charlie would never abide it.”

“Let Joshua worry about Charlie.”

“You want to see Charlie get injured—or worse, killed?”

“Charlie can take care of himself. This ain’t about Charlie calling Dr. Wade out, though fool he’d be if he done so. This is about your pride.”

“You’re correct about that. I’ll never be Dr. Wade’s bought and paid for whore.”

“What does it matter?”

“He has a wife. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It was a marriage arranged by his mama and hers. You were his first choice.”

“I wasn’t his choice at all. And I won’t hurt another woman like that.”

“Hurt? How can it hurt her if she don’t know? If it ain’t time he needs to spend with her, it don’t matter.”

Beth exhaled loudly and turned on her side away from Ruth. “You don’t understand anything about it. Not in the least.”

“I understand you’re letting all those grand ideas Mrs. Hazelwood filled your head with keep you from being with the man you love. There’s little enough joy in life, you better learn to grasp it when you can.”

“Oh, so now I am too ‘uppity’ because I won’t be a man’s kept piece?”

Ruth sighed. “You don’t understand the place you were born into. You weren’t born into Mrs. Hazelwood’s house proper. You were born in the servant’s attic. And not only that. You were born there ‘cause my Papa turned our Mama out when he found out she was carrying you. He hadn’t been at her in years. He was older than her and too much drink done burnt his manhood out long ere that. You seem to forget your situation. Charlie is right. You get too many ideas above yourself.”

“I don’t deserve to be a wife because of what our mother did?” Beth knew it was the truth. But hearing it said so explicitly by her sister sent a pain twisting through her.

“Hmph, if a gentleman like Dr. Wade wanted me, I’d snap up the chance to live in a nice house.”

“I won’t risk Charlie losing his head. You know how hurt he was over our mother’s infidelity with a gentleman. You know how foolish he can be when his temper is roused. So what would he do if his youngest sister took up with a gentleman?”

“Aye, he’d lose his head, wouldn’t he? That ain’t your problem. Let Dr. Wade handle it, like I done said.”

“I just can’t risk it. I won’t.”

Ruth chuckled, the sound so full of cynical knowing, it sent shivers through Beth. “That ain’t the reason, Elizabeth. You know it ain’t too. Fine, keep your prissy standards. You were given beauty that could get you all that’d truly make you happy. But I sincerely hope all those high and mighty standards Mrs. Hazelwood gave you keep you warm after your looks fade.”

Frustration and rage energized Beth. She threw the covers back and jolted from the bed to her feet. Then, in her nightgown, she marched downstairs to the backroom. She sat at the table with her face in her hands.

Yes, Ruth was correct. Beth did want more than she had a right to expect.

She wanted to be special.

Cherished above all.

Was it false pride to want to be a wife? To want a man to place her above all else and proclaim his love for her loudly to the whole world? Had she allowed Mrs. Hazelwood to fill her mind with exalted ideas?

Well, to be fair, Mrs. Hazelwood wanted her to marry a clergyman or a schoolmaster.

Gentlemen fascinated Beth.

All right, now just one gentleman fascinated, consumed, obsessed Beth. One black-haired, silver-eyed gentleman.

But was it absolutely necessary to be fascinated by one’s future husband?

“
Come see me Saturday.”

Grey Sexton was dangerous to her. Her attraction to him made her break her own rules. Made her rationalize taking grave chances.

She had been seen arguing with him in public. Mrs. Bickle or maybe one of the other gentlemen had seen and told Dr. Joshua Wade.

Her mouth went dry and a dizzying whirl of nausea went twisting through her insides. Before meeting Grey, she would never have done anything so thoughtless in public.

This had to end and soon, elsewise she would get herself caught. And there would be trouble with Charlie. She could find herself losing her place in his house. And she belonged nowhere else.

Elizabeth needed a place to belong. She needed people to need her and to focus her affections on. It would kill her inside to have no one. No place at all.

Beth needed her secret life, a place to go and burn off all her lust and craving for adventure.

Grey Sexton was a threat to both worlds.

But to never see him again?

“
Come see me Saturday…I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

* * * *

Beth promised herself this was the absolute last time. A proper goodbye. Grey had insisted on taking her for a ride. Now the carriage stopped in front of a small but stately red-brick Georgian house.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“We’re going inside.”

“But I don’t want to visit anyone.”

“I own this house. I gave the housekeeper the afternoon off. We shall be quite private.”

She drew her brows together. “Why do you stay at City Tavern if you have this house?”

“Because until recently it was occupied.” He threaded his fingers through hers and picked up her hand. “Let’s go inside.”

* * * *

Beth allowed Grey to lead her through the dining room, passing by its glossy cherrywood table and chairs with the vase of pink peonies, and back into the foyer. Why didn’t they go to the bedchamber? That was why they were here, after all.

Prisms dotted the wall like rainbow-hued butterflies, drawing her eye to the sunlight sparkling in the crystal chandelier. “You keep this house, furnished this splendidly, and never use it?”

“I am using it today.” He embraced her from behind and nuzzled her neck. “God, but I have missed you.” His erection pressed huge and hot against her bottom. Then, abruptly, he swept her up into his arms. She squealed and clung to his neck.

“You’ll break your back!” she said laughingly.

“You weigh nothing. You want fattening up,” he said, smiling down at her.

When they entered the bedchamber, he set her down on her feet. The walls were painted a light butter-cream color, with wainscoting that matched the Philadelphia mahogany furnishings. A large canopied bed dominated the spacious chamber; the bed curtains and spread were medium blue, dotted with pale pink roses embellished by generous ruffles. Lacy, sheer, cream-colored curtains filtered the sunlight, the heavier dark blue velvet drapes pulled aside. An ornate Sèvres clock ticked over on the mahogany mantle. Such feminine décor. She’d been expecting this to be his chamber.

She walked over to the bed and a wrapper of sapphire silk and a froth of white lace lay there. She lifted it up, then looked at him and arched a brow. “What’s this?”

The way he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a polished Hessian boot braced against the opposite side, his body looked extra long and lean. “I bought it for you.”

“It’s lovely. But I have no need for something like this.”

“Won’t you wear it for me?”

She touched the silk and traced a finger along the lace. Luxurious and sensual, it looked like something a kept woman would wear. Suddenly, the scent of stale perfume seemed to hang in the air. Anger swept through her, senseless, baseless anger—no, hatred—toward the previous occupant of this luxurious house.

She curled her lip. “Was this your mistress’s bed?”

He drew his brows together. “What?”

“I can smell her perfume.”

He gave her a steady stare. “I smell fresh paint.”

His expression seemed to say she was as insane as she supposed she must be. But intense emotion fueled her outburst. Still holding the garment, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You brought me here, expecting to fuck me in another woman’s bed.”

He gaped. Maybe he lost a shade or so of his color. “How dare you accuse me of such indelicacy?”

“You deny it?”

“Certainly I do. Mrs. Lefebvre took—

“You call her Mrs. Lefebvre?” Beth forced a soft laugh.

He stared back at her sternly for several moments. “Very well, if you insist, Marie.”

The name rolled off his tongue with intimate familiarity. Intense dislike crackled along the whole of Beth’s skin. She rather preferred the impersonal Mrs. Lefebvre.

He continued, “Marie took all her personal items and household effects. These rooms were stripped and painted and the floors scrubbed.” He pulled away from the doorframe and pointed. “That’s a brand new bed, delivered yesterday.”

“But you don’t deny that she was your mistress? That you kept her here.” Her voice dripped scorn, betraying her. Yes, she’d known about his mistress. But somehow it still seemed so heinous of him, exchanging money for sexual congress. But why? That was what wealthy men did.

Surely she didn’t imagine the man had spent the years since his wife’s death celibate, just waiting for her to come into his life? Why was she responding to this so illogically? Hidden beneath her skirts, she tapped her foot, trying to dispel some of her angst.

Those silvery eyes bored into hers for several moments, the brows still fierce. “Why must you women do this?”