Love's Reckoning (40 page)

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Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.

Henry Fielding

At dawn Eden awakened, expecting girlish chatter and giggling, but all that met her ears was a bird's sweet song. The girls were gone, and the day stretched before her to do as she pleased. Jean Marie had spoken of the beautiful vistas to be had out the Greensburg Road along the Allegheny River. She remembered it now, perhaps providentially. Craving a bit of quiet, she decided to go to the nearest livery stable and procure a carriage. But first she'd join Stephen in the dining room below. Breakfast was one meal she couldn't miss, not with the Black Bear's flaky biscuits, orange marmalade, and oversized cups of congou tea.

The foyer was gloriously empty, the tap of her heels the only sound in it. Had Stephen overslept without his charges to wake him? She took their usual table by a window and settled in to enjoy the view, looking up when an Oriental woman brought tea. For all its rusticity, Pittsburgh boasted
a surprisingly diverse population. Smiling her thanks, Eden looked past panes of glass toward twin waterfronts that were already bustling. Masts and rigging jutted upright, their stark canvas reflecting the rising sun.

Where, she wondered for the hundredth time, was Ballantyne Boatworks?

In a few minutes Stephen took his usual place across the table, easing his hat off his head, eyes questioning. “And how is the belle of Pittsburgh this morning?”

“I'm hardly that,” she protested with a smile, stirring sugar into her cup.

“Oh? At least one of its citizens seems to think so.”

“Sebastian, surely.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Mr. Ballantyne's dog.”

He chuckled. “I see you haven't lost your sense of humor in this heat, though I have detected a certain tension about you.”

Avoiding his eyes, she took a sip of tea. “I'm just a bit homesick and keep wondering if we shouldn't leave now that the children are placed, given the situation in Philadelphia.”

He gave her an apologetic glance. “I'd like nothing better than to go east myself. But President Washington himself has just left the city, and others are evacuating as well.”

The unwelcome words marred the beauty of the morning, and she felt disbelief take hold. “But I'd thought—hoped—it was a false alarm.”

“The papers are now saying it's an epidemic.”

A chill spilled over her. “And the hospital? Harriet?”

His eyes were grieved. “I've written to Harriet asking her to join us here. And I've just received word from Dr. Rush.” He took a letter from his waistcoat and unfolded it slowly, putting on his spectacles. “The news doesn't sound encouraging. You know Rush, he's not one to make rash judgments. Yet he
writes, ‘Shafts of death fly closer and closer every day. All is thick and melancholy gloom.' Even if we were to return, we couldn't be of help. The hospital has been locked to protect the foundlings and staff against infection. Philadelphia is a closed door, my dear. We'd best return to matters at hand, like—”

A plate of biscuits appeared. Eden hardly noticed as the Oriental woman padded away.

“Like Silas Ballantyne,” he finished.

She nearly flinched, though he lowered his tone as a couple came into the room. “Last night at the reception I overheard Judge O'Hara say that Silas apprenticed in York County. And I couldn't help but wonder if by any chance . . .”

“Yes,” she breathed, still overwhelmed by it all.

His eyes mirrored surprise. “He was the apprentice in your household? The man you were betrothed to?”

She simply nodded, eyes on her tea. There was a stilted pause in which all the angst of the past returned to her tenfold.

“Miss Lee, unless I'm gravely mistaken about the man's character, why on earth did you part with such a prize?”

She paused, trying to stem her rising emotion. “I didn't—willingly. Someone else intervened and came between us.”

“Well, there's no one intervening now,” he said quietly.

Oh, but there is
, she thought as she reached for her handkerchief.

Isabel O'Hara—and her father.

Tobacco. Beeswax. Leather. It was the essence of River Hill, the unforgettable scent that had greeted Silas when he'd first come to Pittsburgh and Hugh O'Hara had opened his library to him. A fine book had the power to improve a man's mind, especially a tradesman's, the judge said, and Silas was but
one who made a regular trek out Braddock's Road to borrow a tome or two and revel in the comfortable, unpretentious grandeur that was River Hill.

This morning the housekeeper met him at the door and led him down a familiar hall to the judge's book-lined study. Silas hoped to talk to Hugh alone first, then Isabel, and had prayed accordingly. Still, trepidation ticked inside him with every step. He'd rather face the whiskey boys than the man who'd been a friend and financier to him for so long. But since Eden's arrival, it had all come clear. He'd deal honestly about matters from the outset. His faith required nothing less.

“Silas, come in!” The warmth of Hugh's greeting cut him afresh. Rising from behind a massive desk, Hugh gestured to a wing chair. “I thought you'd be at the boatyard with those two new apprentices of yours.”

“They're in good hands, and I'll soon be back,” he said. “I apologize for arriving unannounced.”

“Coffee? Brandy?”

Silas took a chair. “Nae. Just conversation.”

Hugh's gaze clouded. “Not about the Turlocks, I hope. They've been a bit too quiet since their release from jail. It bodes ill, I fear. Or have you a business matter in mind?” His tone lightened. “The mercantile, perhaps, or the ironworks? Something to do with Isabel?”

Silas took a measured breath. “I'm here to talk about Eden Lee.”

“Miss Lee?” All the expectancy left Hugh's face. “Word is she's anxious to leave here and return to Philadelphia.”

Was she? Even with the fever spreading? The knot of turmoil in Silas's chest tightened. “I've asked to speak with her.”

“Speak with her?” Hugh's eyes narrowed. “Surely you're jesting. You've only just met her.”

Silas looked down at his branded thumbs, voice low. “There's much you don't know, much I've not spoken of regarding the past. Miss Lee and I were once betrothed.”

“Once? In York County?” Hugh gave a derisive snort. “That has little bearing on the present, surely.”

The ensuing pause was rife with tension. Clearly the judge was in a defensive posture usually reserved for the courtroom bench. Silas decided to meet it head on. “As a lawman, you well know the legalities involved. Until a pre-engagement is fairly and mutually dissolved, no future marriage is lawful. As far as I'm concerned, the betrothal still stands.”

Hugh set his jaw. “Why did the two of you not wed?”

“She refused me—”

“And what if she refuses you again?”

“She well may.” The thought was razor-sharp. “But it will not keep me from asking.”

Hugh leaned forward in his chair, incredulity hardening his features. “My daughter is willing, yet you dally with another.”

Silas's voice held firm, his gaze level. “I plan to speak with Isabel, to explain.”

Hugh gave a vehement shake of his head. “Nay, I won't have you break her heart unnecessarily. When Miss Lee refuses you a second time and you come to your senses, Isabel will be waiting—and none the wiser.”

Silas regarded him in surprise. Did Hugh still want him as a son-in-law? Even on such shallow terms? He could give Isabel his name, a home, mayhap children. But not his heart. “I cannot marry a woman I do not love.”

Hugh batted the air as if dismissing the thought, then belied his distress by reaching for a decanter and pouring himself some brandy. “Men wed for all kinds of reasons, understand, the least of which is love. I married Isabel's mother
for her dowry and expect no less of you. My daughter is quite well situated, as you know. Half of Pittsburgh is yours for the taking. I doubt the reluctant Miss Lee has a shilling to her name.”

Nae, perhaps not a shilling, but a gentle and quiet spirit, worth more than any coin. Or so Silas believed. Sadly, it was a quality Isabel lacked. But he stayed silent, letting the judge expend his anger.

“Silas, I'm surprised by you, I must say.” Hugh took a swallow of brandy and set the glass down a bit forcefully. “You seem to forget our business dealings, which will come to an abrupt end if you should wed anyone but Isabel.” The words, quietly spoken, carried an ultimatum nevertheless.

Silas stood, knowing there was little left to discuss. “I regret it has come to this, but my convictions stand.”

“You'll soon be back,” Hugh said, downing the last of the brandy. “Remember, not a word to Isabel—”

“Come, Papa. Not a word?” The study door pushed open. “I've heard more than enough, truly.” Isabel stepped into the room, face flushed, hands twisting a handkerchief into an ivory knot. “Leave us, Papa, please.”

For one disorienting moment, Silas was cast back to York County, mired in the spitefulness now mirrored on Isabel's face. It was Elspeth he saw, poisonous in her malice, her lovely features contorted with rage.

The door shut behind Hugh, returning Silas to the present. Isabel was coming straight at him, steady as a sloop at full sail.

“How dare you come here and humiliate me in such a fashion, Silas Ballantyne—you, a former tradesman!” She smacked him hard on the cheek, then brought her other hand up when he stayed stoic.

He caught her wrist, his voice low. “Isabel, listen to reason.”

“Reason? All I know is that you lied to me, led me to believe—”

“I never lied to you. Misled you, mayhap, with a single embrace.”
Which I heartily regret.
He released her wrist. “There was no mention of marriage, ever.”

“Your kiss was promise enough.” She was crying now, though still furious, brown eyes hard as agates. “Yet all the while you were betrothed to another, a woman who wouldn't have you, thus breaking your bond—”

“The bond, as you call it, was never broken, not on my part. 'Tis why I've remained unwed till now. No other woman has had my heart—” He left off, overcome by the futility of the moment. He should be saying such heartfelt things to Eden, not Isabel. Isabel wouldn't accept his words till they turned in her favor. “I simply want to be honest with you and your father and state my intentions.”

Her chin jutted in a stubborn, unforgiving line, so like Hugh's. “If you expect me to wish you well or be waiting when Miss Lee rejects you once again, you're sorely mistaken. I hope she laughs at your so-called intentions and all your future business prospects turn to ashes.”

He said nothing more, relieved when she passed through the door Hugh had taken moments before. Left to see himself out, Silas trod the darkened hall to the foyer and then outside where his horse was tied to a hitch rail. He mounted and turned toward the main road, weary but resolute.