A Season Beyond a Kiss (9 page)

Jeff hooted in glee. “Blow me away if Thelma Brewster hasn’t taken a shine to you, Fancy Man.”

Farrell’s brows shrugged upward briefly. “Never mind that she’s more than twenty years my senior and as fluttery as a silly virgin on a carriage ride with a horny roué. The way she has been acting, a body would think I’ve been trying to get underneath her petticoats.” He snorted. “As if I’d even care to.”

“I take it that she goads you a mite.”

“More’n a mite, Jeffrey. She has the strangest way of bustling into my shop soon after some sweet young thing comes sashaying in to order a new gown. I’ve enlisted Elizabeth’s aid in warning me of Mrs. Brewster’s approach, but the seamstresses usually keep her so busy that she can’t always keep watch. And I don’t trust another to be as discreet. Mrs. Brewster was here not even an hour ago with these little pastries she baked for me.” Casually he indicated a plate of flaky breads that resided on the silver tray beside the coffee service. “I saw her coming and took refuge upstairs. I tell you, Jeffrey me dearie, if I ate everything that woman has brought over here since she started visiting, I’d be rolling through these halls.”

Jeff made an earnest attempt to bridle his amusement, but it invaded his tone nevertheless. “I’d offer my services, Fancy Man, but I have no idea how I can help. I certainly don’t want to invite that sort of attention upon myself.”

“Since you’re now a married man, I would assume Mrs. Brewster considers you well beyond her reach. The way she chases after me, though, I’ve become leery of even leaving my shop by way of the front door. You know I’ve never given too much consideration to the idea of taking myself a wife, but lately, I’ve found myself pondering the notion more and more, just to keep that milliner out of my hair, which is a damned poor reason for a bachelor to resign himself to marriage. It goes to show how desperate I’m beginning to feel, but I’ll try not to jump out of the frying pan into the fire just yet. As many women as I’ve courted, I’ve yet to find a sweet little miss who doesn’t bore me to tears.”

“Does Elizabeth bore you to tears?”

Farrell rolled his wide shoulders uneasily. “No, of course not, but she works for me.”

“Oh, yes, that makes a difference,” Jeff gently needled.

Farrell settled a suspicious squint upon his friend. “Precisely what do you mean by that remark, Jeffrey me dearie?”

“Only that you’ve apparently turned a blind eye to Elizabeth. Haven’t you ever noticed how beautiful she is?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed all right, but I haven’t let it go beyond that point. She overheard me threaten Emory the night I laid him out flat. When I brought his body home several nights later, Elizabeth stared at me as if I had suddenly become a two-headed monster. I think for a few moments there she actually believed I had killed him. While I was digging his grave, she sat in a chair on the front porch just watching me. She was very solemn, very distant. She never cried or carried on. Then, after a time, she went into the house, and when I followed a short time later, I found her down on her knees, mopping up the floor. It took me a few moments before I realized that her water had broken and that she had gone into labor. She refused to let me carry her upstairs or, for that matter, to even come near her. I rode back into town to fetch a midwife and paced Elizabeth’s front porch like any expectant father until Jake was born. The midwife even brought the boy out for me to see, as if she had some wild idea that I was the father. I knew damn well she was acquainted with the family and must have known that Emory was the sire, unless of course he had gotten into one of his ranting moods and shot off his mouth about my coveting his wife. Anyway, after paying the midwife to stay the night with Elizabeth, I returned home.

“Elizabeth’s circumstances became desperate after word got out that Emory was dead. People began hounding her to pay his debts, threatening to take what they could find at the farm as trade when she didn’t even have enough money to provide a decent meal for herself. I offered her a job here, but she said that people would talk about us more than they were. After refusing to become my assistant, she learned what she’d be making cooking and scrubbing floors for Charlie at the inn. A pittance, at best. That’s when she decided she couldn’t raise Jake on what she’d be getting there. Once she accepted my offer, I paid a nursemaid to care for her son here at the shop while Elizabeth made up my designs. After she sold the farm, she moved within walking distance of the shop. I tell you, Jeffrey, until she began sewing for me, my designs never looked so marvelous. Since then, it has been strictly business. She now supervises the other seamstresses and makes the patterns for my designs. Why, just the other day she hired a young, unmarried chit of a girl in a motherly way who, Elizabeth tells me, is extremely talented with a needle. . . .”

Jeff stiffened apprehensively. “Would that chit’s name be Nell?”

“Why, yes, I believe it is. Are you acquainted with her?”

“Well enough to know that she shouldn’t work on my wife’s gown.”

Farrell’s lips twitched behind his Vandyke. “Caught on you, is she?”

“You don’t know the half of it. She accused me of being the father of her babe while Raelynn was there to witness our argument.”

Farrell swept his friend with a lengthy perusal before lifting a skeptical brow. “To tell you the truth, Jeffrey, I thought your tastes were more refined than Nell. She doesn’t appear to be your type at all.”

“She isn’t.”

“So what would you like me to do about her?”

“Nothing more than what you’ve already done. I refused to be blackmailed into giving her any money, but Nell will need whatever she earns here to provide for her baby and herself. I can’t imagine that she’s that far away from giving birth. You’re her best hope for getting the kind of money she’ll be needing.”

Farrell straightened uneasily as he noticed Raelynn approaching a cloth-laden table near the room in which Elizabeth had ensconced Nell. He exchanged a worried glance with his friend, who rose to his feet in a sudden quandary, but it was obvious that if Jeff bade Raelynn to return, Nell would likely recognize his voice and make an appearance.

“Elizabeth,” Farrell called, settling Jeff back into his chair with a patting motion of his hand, “bring our lovely guest back with you so we can have our refreshments. I’d like my coffee now.”

Elizabeth reappeared and, with a smile, escorted Raelynn to her anxious husband. The dark-haired woman graciously served as hostess and poured their separate brews before settling back in a chair with a cup of tea for herself. The plate of pastries was passed around, and while they were being relished, Elizabeth offered suggestions as to the type of gown she thought should be made for Raelynn.

“Mrs. Birmingham’s skin is so fair, the cloth must be of a soft, pale hue to do credit to her flawless complexion.”

Farrell nodded thoughtfully as he studied Raelynn over his own cup of coffee. “Aye, a pink as dainty as the blush on her cheeks.”

“Soft layers of silk, the top one bejeweled with tiny, lustrous beads,” Elizabeth murmured, gazing at their subject.

Once again the couturier inclined his head in agreement. “I can see it now, Elizabeth . . . a gown as slender as the lady herself, with small capped sleeves and a short, beaded train. Satin slippers should be made for her, and of course, she’ll be needing a lace fan sewn with shimmering beads. She should be no less than dazzling.”

Much in awe of the imagination of the couturier and his assistant, Raelynn glanced from one to the other in amazement. Finally, with a smile, she turned to her grinning husband. “I’ve never known a ball gown to be conjured from one’s imagination with such ease and compatibility. I used to spend hours and hours sketching clothes, but I usually tossed aside far more than I thought worth keeping.”

“You used to design clothes?” Farrell queried, his interest growing by swift degrees.

Raelynn inclined her head in a slow nod, not wishing to give the impression that she was well versed in the field. “For a brief time, once merely for the pleasure of it and then, later, to put food on our table while my mother and I were still residing in England. Before that, when we could afford better clothes, it was entirely done for my mother and myself.”

Winking at her, Farrell gave her a grin before slanting a puckish glance toward Jeffrey. “Is it too late to steal you away from your husband?”

Realizing that his bantering was mainly aimed at his friend, Raelynn curbed any evidence of her threatening amusement and lifted slender shoulders in a casual shrug, feigning disinterest. “I fear so. You see, I’ve become quite attached to Oakley and would be loathed to leave it. . . .”

“Oakley? Oakley?” Jeff repeated as if sorely chafed by his wife’s expressed preference.

Raelynn dimpled prettily as she settled gleaming eyes upon him. “Well, of course, I’d miss you, too, Jeffrey.”

“Humph!” Her husband folded his arms across his chest, giving every indication that he had been insulted, but at the hilarity of the three, he relented enough to grin. “I suppose I shall have to make a more lasting impression on my bride ere she finds a plantation more grand than mine.”

Raelynn reached across and consolingly stroked her husband’s hand. “I don’t think that will happen, dearest. Oakley is quite beyond any lady’s expectations.”

“Thank heavens for small favors,” Jeff grumbled, evoking their laughter.

Sitting back in her chair, Raelynn raised her cup to take a sip of tea as her eyes swept casually down the hall. When a young, pregnant woman of no more than ten and six stepped into the corridor, it was enough to start her hands to shaking. The girl was petite and very pretty with bright golden hair, but her pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly as they ranged over Raelynn, who managed with some dignity to return her cup to her saucer without spilling the contents over herself. The girl’s gaze moved on and grew noticeably softer when they came to rest upon Jeff.

“Nell,” he greeted stoically, giving her a brief nod of recognition.

She lifted a quivering chin as if wounded to the quick by his distant tone, and for a lengthy moment, she seemed to struggle with some inner turmoil as her blue eyes brimmed with tears. Through the gathering moisture, she turned to glower at Raelynn who sat frozen in her chair. The girl caressed her own distended belly, deliberately reminding the other woman of her condition, and managed a smug smile, which at best was badly contrived.

Following Raelynn’s stare, Elizabeth turned in growing curiosity. “Is anything wrong, Nell?”

The girl looked at the woman as if awakening from a dream. “No, Mrs. Dalton,” she croaked in a voice choked with emotion. “I just thought I heard familiar voices, but I guess I was mistaken.”

Bestowing a last glare upon Raelynn, Nell returned to her cubicle and gently closed the door behind her.

Jeff realized that he had been holding his breath ever since Nell had come out of her room. Gradually he released it, thankful there hadn’t been another argument or angry confrontation with which he’d have been forced to contend. But then, he wasn’t at all certain that this would be the end of it. Nell was definitely
not
the predictable sort; he had learned that the night she had crawled into his bed.

“I hate to rush off and leave such worthy company, Farrell, but my wife and I have other shopping to do,” he announced, setting aside his coffee cup and squeezing Raelynn’s hand. She sat as if stunned, her cheeks unusually pale. It was not hard to imagine what anguish she was now feeling, wondering if he had sired Nell’s child. After what they had experienced together that morning, the sight of the girl had no doubt brought the brumes of gloom back upon her. “Perhaps we should get about it.”

“If you wouldn’t mind sparing a moment more of your time, Mr. Birmingham,” Elizabeth begged as she returned her own cup and saucer to the silver tray, “I’d really like to take your wife’s measurements before you leave.”

In view of the necessity of her request, Jeff graciously yielded her the time. “Of course, Elizabeth. Raelynn’s ball gown takes precedence over everything else. Nothing we’ll be doing today will be of greater importance. I just thought my wife would enjoy venturing into some of the nicer shops in Charleston.”

Farrell grinned behind his neatly clipped whiskers. “Should I consider it a compliment that you came here to mine first? Or do you love me so much, Jeffrey me dearie, that you can’t stay away?”

Jeff made a great show of being unduly shocked. “What? Love a conceited, dandified
nouveau riche
? Are your wits addled, man?”

Raelynn’s smile indicated an easing of her anxiety as she glanced between the two men. Elizabeth pressed slender fingers to her own mouth to squelch the mirth that bubbled up within her as she looked at Farrell, who, with an expression of exaggerated distress, had fallen back into his chair, but the man proved himself just as adept at a rejoinder as his friend.

“Egads, Jeffrey, are you so jealous of my good looks and manly physique that you must voice your callous affront within your gentle wife’s hearing? What must she think of you? A cad, no less!” Rising with overstated grace, he faced Raelynn and executed a flamboyant bow. “Madam, if you’re ready to cast this oafish knave aside, I’d be honored to give him twice the sum he gave your uncle just for a sweet smile from your lips.”

“You already have the best I can offer, sir,” she warbled, her heart dragging free of that dark morass of uncertainty as she yielded to the clothier’s humor. “Even if my life were threatened this very moment, I don’t think I could make a better attempt or smile any broader.”

In a calmer moment the two women rose to leave the room, but Farrell begged momentary leave of the Birminghams before drawing Elizabeth aside. He spoke to her in a hushed tone before she nodded and murmured a response. Then, upon facing Raelynn with a smile, Elizabeth escorted her to a private fitting room in the adjoining hallway.

Farrell returned to Jeff who had been indulging himself in a husbandly propensity by admiring his bride. When the door closed behind her, the couturier gained his full attention. “You needn’t worry that Nell will damage Raelynn’s gown while it’s here in the shop. Elizabeth will talk to her. She has a great empathy for the younger women who work here and goes out of her way to reason with them when they’re in the wrong. Usually they come around to a more sensible way of thinking and eventually can see where they may be at fault. I’ve asked Elizabeth to counsel Nell and help her come to terms with the fact that you’re married now. Personally, I believe the girl is fortunate to be working under Elizabeth. Yet, for all of my assistant’s concern for them, she expects them to conform to the rules we’ve established here. Don’t annoy the customer is the first principle to which they must adhere. They all know that if they overstep the boundaries we’ve established here, it will likely mean losing a position that pays them good wages. That threat serves to quell their animosities to a goodly extent. Nell will surely take that into consideration once the rules are explained to her and, at least while you’re here in the shop, will avoid you and Raelynn. Beyond this place, I can make no guarantees.”