Unveiled (10 page)

“That’s a shame. Isn’t that a shame, Christopher? He doesn’t have an Uncle Willy. Everyone should have one.”

“Yes, you’re right, we should all have Uncle Willys. 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 shivered. 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, brushing 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 God had forgiven her.

Maybe she had been given a second chance.

S
EVEN

^“
W
ell, 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 embarrassment. “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 pinpricks. “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 glass of tomato juice with a jigger of whiskey in it. Used to do it for me own Johnny when I was a girl. Damned 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 passed, and within a few minutes she was feeling almost human.

“Good. The color’s come back to your face. Damned 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…snowballed.”

“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 lust, 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 God, 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 passionate kiss, and Christopher’s sensual assurance 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 God, 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.

“What do you mean she isn’t home?” Christopher stood on the doorstep of the huge wraparound porch and stared at the maid, his bouquet drooping in his hand.

Eileen folded her arms and faced him like a watchdog guarding her home. “I mean she isn’t home. I am sorry, sir. Would you like to leave the flowers? I’ll make sure she knows you were here.”

“But she hasn’t been home in days! Is she ill, or away?” Christopher persisted impatiently.

Eileen stared at him regally. “I’m sorry, sir, but it isn’t for me to question my betters. Frances Pemberton is not home. Would you care to leave your card?”

“Fine.” Thrusting his calling card into the maid’s hand along with the flowers, he turned and stormed down the porch steps. After marching out to the sandy road, he turned and glanced back at the house, mentally calculating which room was Fan’s. A curtain twitched suspiciously at the far left bedroom, and a cold smile curved on his face.

So that was it, she was avoiding him. Remembering their last night together, he wasn’t totally surprised. Fan was probably embarrassed, and was now treating him like he had the plague.

He grinned openly now. Every time he thought about that night he laughed. Fan had gotten more than tipsy—and probably had a colossal headache the next day to show for it. And no self-respecting woman got flushed and treated the town to a delightful rendition of an Irish folk song. But then again, there weren’t many Frances Pembertons in Cape May.

If he didn’t know better, he would think she was from the Irish wards. But Fan was Fan, a delight to him, a scandal to society. He had never met a woman who was more real, more alive, and so intriguing. He chuckled out loud as he recalled the Misses Mitchell asking him pointedly about their outing, hoping to hear something outlandish. Instead he had told them the truth. Fan was simply the most interesting woman he’d ever met, and he was really looking forward to seeing her again.

He frowned as he stared at the house, the curtain still twitching. If Fan had taken it into her head to avoid him, she could easily dodge him for weeks. She hadn’t been to any parties in the last few days, had avoided the beach, had even been absent from Bertrice Merriweather’s picnic that afternoon. That’s when he had decided to take matters into his own hands and demand to see her. But other than barging into the house, he hadn’t many alternatives if she chose not to be at home to him.