Where the Heart Leads (15 page)

The teasing undertone held no offense, but Daphne fluttered her eyelashes at him and offered a slight pout anyway. “Pray tell, what demands have I made of you?”

Thomas paused, tipping his head to the side. His eyes twinkled merrily. “ ‘I should
so
enjoy a walk through the botanical garden.’ ” His attempt at a lilting voice failed, but Daphne recognized the words as her own. He tipped his head the opposite way. “ ‘Oh, Thomas, mightn’t we ride in a swan boat?’ ”

She gave his arm a light slap with her folded Japanese fan and urged him onward. “Now, you know very well those were not demands but mere suggestions. Suggestions, I might add, you heartily endorsed.”

“You’re right. But—” his voice caught, the timbre deepening— “it doesn’t matter much to me what we do. I just enjoy having time together.”

Her heart tripped happily at his confession. She snugged her cheek to his arm once more. “Oh, Thomas—me too.”

They walked in silence along pathways lined with explosions of dahlias, cannas, and pansies. Set against a neatly-clipped carpet of emerald green, the flowers lent an air of festivity, and Daphne could barely contain the desire to twirl in a circle. What could be better than strolling through a flower-laden park on the arm of the man she loved?

Yes, over the past hours, Daphne had determined she most definitely loved Thomas Ollenburger.

Since his return to Boston, they hadn’t had much time alone together. Between his daytime hours at the newspaper office and his evenings helping with the campaign, he had little free time available. She had been forced to snatch moments at his noonday break on the days she managed to make her way into the city, or to sneak a few sentences of conversation at campaign headquarters when Harry allowed her to accompany him. Those unsatisfactory, rushed, far-too-infrequent minutes had fed her desire for a long, uninterrupted expanse of time with this man who made her heart feel too big to fit comfortably within her chest.

And after two weeks, she’d finally gotten it—an entire Saturday afternoon with Thomas. His gentlemanly attentiveness combined with his altogether pleasing physical attributes made him the perfect choice for a suitor. Now, as the sun slipped toward the horizon, their time together neared its end, and Daphne wasn’t ready to bid him good-night.

They reached the ornate iron gate that opened out onto the street, and Daphne pulled back on Thomas’s arm. “Let’s not go just yet. Look . . .” She pointed to a carved wooden bench tucked beneath the trees and surrounded by bright pink heliotrope. “Can we sit for a little while before you take me to meet Harry’s carriage at the headquarters?”

At the word
headquarters
, Thomas grimaced, but he led her to the bench and seated himself beside her. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and peered across the grounds where the trees’ shadows created splotches of deeper green on the grassy carpet.

“I hope Harry won’t be upset about me not working on the campaign today.”

The worry in his tone rankled her. Did he regret his day with her? Yet she wouldn’t spoil their time by fussing at him. She opened her fan with a flick of her thumb and waved the painted silk panels beneath her chin, giving herself time to calm her temper. She deliberately shifted so her skirts brushed against his trouser leg. “Harry shouldn’t fault you for a day of relaxation. With the exception of the dinner party hosted by Mrs. Steadman the day after your return, you’ve worked
all
the time.”

After a quick, lopsided grin, he said, “A man who refuses to labor is considered slothful.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Is that one of your small-town folk-lores?”

His lips twitched. “No. Actually, it’s from the Bible, the book of Proverbs.”

“Oh.” She raised her shoulders in a blithe shrug, increasing the tempo of the fan. “I’ve never read that book.”

Thomas’s brows crunched downward. “Never? Don’t you attend church?”

“Why, certainly! At Christmas, of course, and Easter. But Sunday is Father’s only day away from the office. We rarely leave the house on Sunday.”

Thomas’s look of dismay made her believe she’d insulted him, although she had no idea how. But she acted quickly to make amends. Dropping the fan into her lap, she took one of his hands and held it between her palms. She pretended to examine it with all seriousness. “As for these hands . . . slothful?” Another flutter of her lashes encouraged pink to blotch his neck. “I think not, Thomas.”

He withdrew from her grasp, sliding the palm down the length of his thigh before linking his fingers together. His neck faded to its normal color as he stared across the lawn.

Daphne sighed, lifting the fan once more. “Perhaps tomorrow you could ride out to the estate and join my family for a late breakfast? Cook makes a positively scrumptious cinnamon cake laden with pecans and brown sugar, and Father always insists on ham, bacon, eggs, and waffles, so there will be sufficient food to satisfy your grand appetite.”

Thomas’s deep blue eyes held conflicting emotions—longing, most certainly, but something else, too. Remorse? Confusion? For long moments he held her captive with the intensity of feeling dancing through his sky-colored eyes. Then his expression suddenly changed to mirth. A light chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Here I thought I’d minded my manners when dining with you, but you still spotted my big appetite.”

Daphne giggled, matching his light-hearted tone. “As if someone of your size could hide something like that.” She lowered her chin, peeking at him over the top of the fan in a deliberately flirtatious look. “I trust you would also enjoy the . . . company . . . at my father’s estate.”

“Oh.” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Of course I’d enjoy the time with . . . your family.”

Daphne whisked nonexistent dust from her skirt. “And perhaps you’d have the opportunity to visit with Harry about the campaign. He could inform you what transpired today in your absence.”

Thomas heaved a sigh. “Truthfully, I probably need to worry less about Harry than about Nadine.” He twisted his lips into a wry grin. “She and I have been getting along as well as two tomcats in a gunnysack ever since Harry told her I was helping with Watson’s campaign.”

Daphne sat up, curiosity straightening her spine. “I find her reaction puzzling. Has she strong political opinions?”

“No, she’s always steered away from political discussions, insisting politics is a topic polite people should avoid. So when I ask her why she’s so opposed to Watson, she refuses to answer, telling me I need to figure it out for myself. There’s got to be something upsetting her, though. I wish I knew what it was.”

Daphne offered a supportive squeeze of her hand on his arm. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready. In the meantime, be patient with her. She’s old and set in her ways, but she loves you—that will bring acceptance in the end.”

Thomas sucked in his lips for a moment, seeming to consider her words. Then, with a shake of his head, he said, “I’ll talk to her one more time, and if she doesn’t agree to stop badgering me, I’m going to accept Harry’s offer to locate an apartment for me.” He sounded rueful when he added, “She might love me, but she’s making things very uncomfortable.”

14

A
S THOMAS STEPPED THROUGH
the front door of Nadine’s home, his heart felt tangled in knots of confusion from his time with Daphne. Her confession at the park about never attending church had taken him by surprise.
“Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,”
the Bible admonished, and Thomas had learned to honor it. But at the end of the evening, as he’d graced her glove-covered knuckles with a kiss, his heart had catapulted into his throat. The lump of longing was still there.

He latched the door behind him and then pressed his forehead against it, eyes closed. God wouldn’t allow him to feel drawn to a woman of whom He disapproved, would He? People in Gaeddert had certainly disapproved of Pa spending time with Summer when she first arrived in town, yet things had worked out between them. Wouldn’t things work out, then, for him and Daphne?

Someone spoke his name from behind him. He jumped and spun around, slamming his elbow against the doorjamb. Sucking in a sharp breath, he rubbed his elbow. “Yes, Nadine?”

Dressed in a navy blue evening gown with a high collar, the pale skin of Nadine’s face almost gave the appearance of an apparition in the muted light filtering through the wide parlor doorway. She arched one brow and glanced at his elbow. “Are you all right?”

He lowered his hand even though the spot still throbbed. “Just fine, thank you. I . . . I tried to be quiet.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Despite her genial tone, a sense of foreboding gripped Thomas. “Oh?”

“Yes. Please . . .” She held her hand toward the parlor. “Shall we sit?”

Thomas followed her into the parlor, waited until she seated herself in her favorite embroidered chair, then settled into the center of the settee. Hoping to appear more relaxed than he felt, he propped his right ankle on his left knee and leaned fully against the stiff backrest of the uncomfortable seat.

“I trust you had a pleasant afternoon?”

“Yes, ma’am. The botanical gardens are beautiful.” Thomas wondered if the remainder of the evening would put a damper on the day’s remembered pleasures.

Nadine’s eyebrows shot up. “Botanical gardens? I thought you spent the day at the . . . campaign headquarters.”

Had she hesitated or did he only imagine it? He rubbed his dry lips together before responding. “No. I spent the day with Daphne Severt.”

“Ah.” A quick moue of displeasure crossed Nadine’s face. “I’m not sure that’s any better than campaigning for Watson. . . .”

Despite himself, Thomas smiled. “Why not? She’s a lovely girl.” He almost sighed with pleasure as he recalled Daphne’s sweet face turned up to his as they drifted across the lake in a swan-shaped boat while several of the real birds floated along beside them. Then he remembered her comment about never attending church, and his heart contracted.

“Lovely, yes. But spoiled.” Nadine spoke matter-of-factly without a hint of malice, but also without warmth. She shook her head. “I can see nothing of lasting value coming from your relationship with Daphne Severt, Thomas. All of her appeal is superficial—skin deep.” Now her tone took on an edge. “When choosing a life’s mate, there must be more than physical attraction.”

Thomas frowned. “I know.”

“Do you?”

He sat silently as resentment built within him. While he loved Nadine, her interference in his life was becoming tiresome. Besides, her words too closely mirrored the concern that had already struck him. He shoved aside his own worries about Daphne and focused on Nadine. By reminding himself she had no one to fuss over but him, he found the patience needed to hold his tongue. He swallowed and managed a terse response. “Yes, I know.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment. Her body seemed to relax, her tightly held fingers opening so her hands lay limply in her lap. “Ah, Thomas, you think me foolish and overbearing, don’t you?”

He certainly wasn’t going to answer that!

Opening her eyes, she fixed him with a tender look. “But in truth, I’m concerned for you. I was young once, too, as was my son, Rodney, and your stepmother, Summer. Rodney and Summer married for the sake of attraction, you know, and although they were committed to each other, I’m aware of their lack of true happiness together. Summer loves you dearly—she would want more than a superficial relationship for you.”

Thomas leaned forward, dropping his foot to the floor. “I appreciate your concern, Nadine. But there’s no reason to worry. I haven’t made any commitment to Daphne. I just enjoy my time with her.” Heat crept up his neck once again as he recalled the evening he walked Belinda Schmidt home after delivering her load of ironing. If he were truthful, his time with Daphne was different than his time with Belinda, although both had been enjoyable.

“One more word of advice from an old woman, hmm?” She nodded, as if he’d spoken an agreement. “Make a determined effort to acquaint yourself with Daphne Severt’s character. I’m certain it will not be easy—she has been doubly blessed with external beauty, which would distract the most mature gentleman—but for the sake of avoiding heartbreak, you must try.”

“I’ll try,” Thomas promised, eager to move to another topic.

She took a deep breath. “About your involvement in the Watson campaign—”

Thomas wished they could return to discussing Daphne. He released a derisive grunt. The disrespectful behavior would have appalled his father, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Nadine, please, I don’t understand why—”

“No, you do not.” Her eyes blazed, but he wondered if her reaction had as much to do with his impolite grunt as it did with Watson. “You do not understand at all.”

He deliberately gentled his voice. “Then please explain it to me.”

“I will not waste one second of my lifetime trying to explain myself to you.”

Plopping back into the seat, he threw his arms wide, forgetting his determination to be gentle. “Then how will we ever reach a compromise on this issue?”

“There is no compromise.” For a moment, he thought he saw a tear glisten in Nadine’s eye, but she blinked and it disappeared. She continued in an unemotional yet firm tone. “Although my behavior of late no doubt gives you reason to question it, I am not a suffragist. Certainly, if given the opportunity to vote, I would exercise that right and cast my ballot, but I will never join parades or rabble-rouse to be granted the privilege. In truth, although my Horace was a staunch Republican, I have no strong political affiliations.”

Her statements only served to increase Thomas’s confusion. “Then why—”

“It is not for
political
reasons that I question your support of this particular candidate.” She continued in the same unflappable, even voice, as if Thomas hadn’t spoken. She paused, unblinking, fixing Thomas with a look he felt certain bored a hole through him. “What was my advice to you concerning Daphne Severt?”

Thomas frowned, trying to recall her exact words. He paraphrased, “To look below her surface for the truth of who she is.”