The Bride (9 page)

“The Fiskes,” Douglas said with a shrug. “It’s a good thing duels are no longer the thing. It would be a shame to have to kill old Franklin.”

“Kill Franklin?” Admittedly he was extremely angry with the older man, but he didn’t think killing him was called for.

“Well, you probably could get away with just wounding him, but—”

“Listen, Douglas, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, old chap. Just a little joke. Several of us down at the Reading Room were speculating on what old Franklin would do about you compromising his daughter. Not that I blame you. I’ve thought about... well, you know. Eleanor may not be a great beauty, but she does have a certain appeal. Hell, what are you doing?”

What John had done was grab the ribbons from Douglas and none too gently reined the high-strung bays to a stop. Then he faced a startled Douglas. “Tell me precisely what you’re talking about and do it now!”

“No reason to get upset, old man—”

With his free hand John grabbed the front of Douglas’s emerald green lapels.

“All right. All right. Sir Alfred is spreading the word that you and Eleanor were alone in a fisherman’s hut after you were both swept overboard.” Despite his trussed up position, Douglas managed a smirk on his boyish face. “Sir Alfred said you two were caught in a pretty compromising position, if you know what I mean.”

For one raging moment John considered pounding his fist into Douglas Milner’s freckled nose. Then reason took hold and he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. With a shove he let him go, then leaped from the carriage.

“Wait... John. What are you going to do? No need to be upset. It’s not as if anyone is making you marry the chit.”

Before the last word was out, John bounded onto the seat and grabbed Douglas’s starched shirtfront. “Never... ever refer to Miss Fiske as anything but a lady.” Before the startled Douglas could catch his breath John was back on the road, jogging toward Oakgate.

~ ~ ~

Another afternoon picnic, like so many boring others. Only Eleanor could detect a slight charge in the air, like the buzz of a hundred bees. Not one of the guests said a word to her about the ugly rumors, but she’d heard them nonetheless.

Her mother had raged into her room last evening, angrier than Eleanor had ever seen her. Mrs. Van Mullin had let it slip over tea that Eleanor was the principal topic of conversation, especially among the young men of Newport. Word was that she’d been compromised by John Bonner on the day she fell overboard.

“I can hardly credit the truth of it, Eleanor, but the very hint of scandal will ruin your chances with Sir Alfred.”

“Why, Mother?”

“Why?” Matilda’s face grew redder with each passing minute. “Because he will want a bride above reproach, of course.”

“No, I was asking why you can’t believe that I was compromised.”

“You stupid girl, to even ask such a question!” She stormed across the room and then back. “John Bonner may be crude and lacking in manners, but
he
isn’t stupid. What he wanted from you was a place in society. Seducing you was hardly a means to that end. And it certainly wasn’t as if he was swept away by passion.” Her expression when she looked at her daughter made it clear why she thought that impossible.

“At any rate we, shall have to counter this nonsense. I shall give a picnic tomorrow. Mrs. Van Mullin and Alexandra have already agreed to come, and no one else will dare not show their faces. I only wish your father had the decency to be here.” She continued pacing the area between the door and window, making plans. “You, of course, shall have to be above reproach in your dealing with everyone, especially Sir Alfred. I’m certain your silly rejection of his proposal caused him to say what he did.”

“Sir Alfred started the rumor?” Eleanor was incensed.

Matilda made a
tsking
sound with her tongue. “Simply wounded male pride which you must do your best to assuage, Eleanor.”

Her mother stormed out of the room before Eleanor could tell her she had no intention of assuaging Sir Alfred or anyone else. Her first reaction was to refuse to go to the stupid picnic. But after thinking it over she decided she would go. And as far as Sir Alfred was concerned... well, she would tell him exactly what she thought of him. What could her parents do but banish her from their house. Perhaps she’d be sent abroad.

Not that it mattered. She felt as if her life was over. And all because of John Bonner. Of his betrayal. She loved him. Thought of him constantly. But he obviously didn’t care a whit for her. He hadn’t so much as tried to see her since the day she confronted him.

Alice Maitland was the first to approach her. The petite beauty’s smile was smug. “Dear Eleanor,” she said, her fan fluttering. “How are you?”

“Very well, Alice. And you?”

“I’m fine, naturally, but I’m so concerned about you. Your dip in the ocean... and everything.”

“Well, as you can see, I—”

“You do look different. Your gown is, well, it’s lovely.”

“Thank you. I had it made while in Europe.” It was one of the few her mother hadn’t controlled and Matilda hated it. But Eleanor loved the simple lines and soft color. “If you’ll excuse me, I must have a word with Sir Alfred.”

Eleanor had seen him enter the grounds and wanted to have her say before her nerve deserted her. But while she was moving through the chatting throng there was a commotion on the lower loggia. Eleanor looked up to see John Bonner pushing his way past Mr. Bledsoe the butler.

“John.” Eleanor tried to move toward him, but by now everyone else had also noticed the trouble and they surged forward as well. But she could still see him and watched in astonishment as he broke free of the servant and strode toward Sir Alfred. Those around the British peer melted back like a receding wave and by the expression on John Bonner’s face, Eleanor couldn’t blame them.

She was too far away to hear what was said, but it was obvious, the two men were arguing. When Sir Alfred took a swing at John the cream of Newport society gasped. That punch missed, but John’s didn’t. Eleanor couldn’t help smiling when Sir Alfred landed flat on his back on the carpet of perfectly manicured grass.

But apparently there were those who did not approve of John’s behavior. Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor spotted her mother leading a dozen servants across the yard. Several of the men worked in the garden and were burly fellows.

Eleanor called out to warn John, but she didn’t think he heard her. Then she lost sight of him. But moments later he reappeared. And he was coming straight toward her. As before, the crowd opened for him, until he was standing right in front of her.

His dark hair was mussed and his cravat crooked. Eleanor also noticed several of his knuckles were skinned and bleeding. But mostly she noticed his eyes, dark and intense, staring into hers.

The other guests seemed to disappear and it was only she and John standing there rooted to the spot. And then the sound of her mother’s voice screeched through the silence. John and Eleanor looked around at the same time.

“You have to go,” Eleanor urged, placing her hand on his sleeve. She noticed now that several of the men in her mother’s makeshift army had clubs. John must have seen it, too, but he held his ground.

“Ellie, I...”

“John!” Eleanor gave him a shove.

“I’m not leaving till I have my say.” Ignoring the group hurrying toward him from the left, John faced Eleanor. “I love you.” He grabbed her hands. “I didn’t intend to and I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did. I love you more than life itself, Ellie.” He squeezed her fingers. “I don’t give a damn about society or anything but you.” He swallowed ignoring the stamp of approaching feet to the side. “I know I’ve messed things up for you and you probably can’t forgive me but I had to let you know how I feel.”

He was going to leave. Eleanor could feel it. He loved her, but he planned to sacrifice that love so she could continue as she was. Well, Eleanor had no intention of staying as she was. Before he could turn away she grabbed his arm.

“Don’t go without me.” His grin showed he was hoping she’d say that. “I love you, too.”

Before she could finish her words he scooped her up. Her gown flowed down over his forearms and she pressed herself into his body. But as quickly as he picked her up, he let her down. Then turned to face Matilda and her enforcers.

“I’m leaving here, Mrs. Fiske. And I’m taking Ellie with me.”

“You are doing no such thing.” She motioned for the men behind her to step forward. But Eleanor was faster. She was in front of John, facing her mother before anyone could move.

“I am leaving, Mother. And I’m going with John. You can’t stop me. But I’d like your blessing.”

“Eleanor, I demand that you go to your room.”

“No Mother.”

“You are a foolish, stupid girl.”

Eleanor felt John stiffen behind her but she glanced back and shook her head, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mother.” Then looking back at John, she asked, “Are you ready?”

In response he again scooped her into his arms. Skirting Eleanor’s mother and the servants John strode toward the house. Behind them the guests started whispering among themselves but John and Eleanor didn’t notice. Nor did they care.

T
he bride wore a white gown designed by Worth. It was long and flowing, with seed pearls and apple blossoms, the cut complimenting her willowy figure. She was glowing with happiness and everyone in Butte, Montana thought John Bonner the luckiest of men.

None more than John Bonner himself. As he stood by the flower festooned altar in the small clapboard church waiting for Eleanor Fiske... his Ellie... to walk down the aisle he couldn’t help congratulating himself. He’d gone in search of a bride who could insulate him from the hurts of his past. And he’d found one.

But her position in society had nothing to do with it. Ellie... was Ellie. He could talk to her about his past and she listened. She sympathized and accepted. And John accepted himself.

She even suggested a wedding trip to New Orleans. At first John was adamantly against it. Then he began to see the wisdom of facing his past. So they were going to make the trip to Louisiana. But not for a month or so, which was how long John figured he’d keep Ellie holed up in his cabin above Butte.

The preacher’s wife began playing music—on a piano John brought in by rail for the occasion—and he looked toward the vestibule where Eleanor stood. He smiled and so did she, then her father took her arm and she began the short walk up the aisle.

It wasn’t St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, but Eleanor insisted she didn’t want to be married there and John agreed. They were taking their vows where they planned to live and raise their family. Amid the people who would be their neighbors.

There were some scions of society sitting shoulder to shoulder with Butte’s miners and townfolk. Even Eleanor’s mother had relented and come. But it was by no means the social event of the season. It was however, the most important event of John Bonner’s life.

The ceremony was short and John tried to concentrate on the words, but he kept losing himself in Ellie’s eyes. And then it was over and he was kissing her and holding her and wishing they didn’t have a three-hour ride by buckboard till they were home.

~ ~ ~

“Well, this is it.” John reined the horses to a stop in front of the two-room cabin he’d built as a retreat for himself.

“Oh my,” she said and climbed from the seat before he could help her down. “Oh my.” She walked slowly toward the front door.

“I know it’s small, but I can add on, or we can build another house. Hell, Ellie we can still go back and have something built on Fifth Avenue if you like.” John leaped from the seat and tried to see the cabin as she saw it. Even though he had some of his men working on it, cleaning it and planting some flowers, it still was only a small cabin in the mountains. “I know it isn’t what you’re used to.”

She looked at him, her expression stricken and John’s stomach dropped. But her next words had him grinning. “I love it here, and I want to stay.”

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward him. “We can do anything you like.” His lips brushed hers, then came back to linger. By the time they parted, they both had a difficult time catching their breath. “I think I’d like to go inside,” Eleanor said, then laughed as John lifted her into his arms.

Once in the bedroom it didn’t take them long to rid each other of their wedding clothes. They lay on the huge bed, the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, admiring each other.

“You’re so beautiful.” John dipped his lips to the valley between Eleanor’s breasts and she wove her fingers through the raw-silk texture of his hair. “I have dreamed about this. About holding you and loving you.” His kiss roamed lower till she was writhing beneath him.

She was as responsive and loving as the time in the fisherman’s hut... the only time he’d touched her. For the month since they left Newport John had held his passion in check—showing a restraint he didn’t know he had. But now he was free to express his love for her to the fullest.