The Brickmaker's Bride (10 page)

Laura pressed her palm down the front of her wool skirt. “Yes,” she whispered.

“You don’t sound completely convinced. I’m guessing that’s because you didn’t have any brothers or sisters when you were growing up, but once you have one child of your own, you’ll want more.”

“I don’t believe this talk of children is a proper conversation, Mr. McKay,” her mother cut in. “Please remember that my daughter is a single woman.” She leaned forward an inch or two. “And you are a single man.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Woodfield.” Ewan leaned a bit closer to Laura and whispered, “Why are we not supposed to speak about children?”

His breath tickled Laura’s neck and sent a shiver racing down her arms. “You can talk about children, but not . . .” She hesitated a moment. “It is considered indelicate to speak about a woman bearing children.”

Laura didn’t miss his look of confusion, but her mother would only frown upon any further explanation.

“I’ll need to be careful when I attend social gatherings. I don’t want to be saying anything that would embarrass you ladies. Then again, if I’m not sure what is proper, how can I be careful?” His brows furrowed. “I may need to keep my talk to a minimum unless I’m discussing bricks.”

“If you stay close to Winston, you should be fine. He’ll give you a nudge if you begin to venture onto an inappropriate topic.”

Ewan turned toward Laura. “Winston Hawkins is attending the meetings also? You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

She shook her head. “He won’t be going to any of the meetings, only the social gatherings. I believe I mentioned he is going to be in the race for state senator. He’s eager to meet with the governor and several others to help formulate his plans.”

Ewan’s features tightened. “Nay. You did not tell me of his plans to run for a political office or to be in Wheeling. When will he arrive?”

“Late tonight. He’ll attend the ball tomorrow evening. You likely won’t see him except at the social events, but Mother is right: If you have any concerns, you can feel free to ask Winston’s advice. He’ll be pleased to assist you.”

Ewan didn’t reply, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt for the remainder of the train ride. When the conductor passed through the train several hours later and announced Wheeling would be the next stop, Mrs. Woodfield perked to attention and smoothed the folds of her dress. “I’m so thankful we’re nearly there. I’m weary of these close quarters.”

Ewan accompanied the ladies into the train station. When Mrs. Woodfield spied a friend in the depot and they were alone for a moment, he turned to Laura.

“Why didn’t you tell me Winston was going to be here?”

“I didn’t think it was of consequence. We’ll be conducting our meetings during the daytime while he’s meeting with senators and testing the political waters. It worked to our advantage that we could all be here at the same time.”

“Had I known you would have an escort, I wouldn’t have rejected Kathleen’s request to come along. If you were planning to make me feel like a fifth wheel on the wagon, you’ve accomplished your goal.”

Laura recoiled as though she’d been slapped. She would never intentionally hurt another person. Her mother was the one who had encouraged Winston to join them. It wasn’t until after he’d
made his arrangements that Laura learned about the plans. She’d had no say in the decision.

For some time now, her mother had done everything possible to encourage Winston. Truth be told, her mother had been more delighted than Laura when he formally asked to court her. And the fact that all the single women in Laura’s social circle thought her fortunate to be the one whom Winston had chosen only made matters worse. When several of her friends lamented the fact that Winston had overlooked them, Laura tried to discover why they were drawn to him. Perhaps a spark of love would be kindled if she could ascertain what she might have overlooked. He was an excellent lawyer and would likely become an excellent politician. Yet, try as she may, Laura continued to think of Winston as a friend, nothing more. She’d even spoken with her mother, but to no avail.

Instead of calling off the courtship, her mother had whisked away Laura’s protests with a comment that love is sometimes slow to bloom. While she understood her mother’s reasoning for the match, Laura would rather remain a spinster than marry a man she didn’t love. Yet, for longer than she could remember, her mother had expressed regret that Laura had been without siblings to share her early years. As the years passed, her mother had made it clear that before she died, she intended to make certain Laura had a husband. And since her father’s death, her mother’s determination had increased tenfold.

Laura extended her hand toward Ewan. “Wait. I can explain if you’ll give me a moment.”

“You owe me no explanation. We’re here to conduct business during the daytime, and Winston is here to be your escort and entertain you in the evenings. It’s all very clear.” He motioned toward the baggage being unloaded down the platform. “I’ll go and make arrangements to have the baggage delivered to the
hotel. No need for you and your mother to wait on me. I can come to the hotel once I’ve finished.” He glanced across the depot. “I believe your mother said she wanted to rest as soon as we arrived.”

Laura didn’t want to leave him, but from the set of his jaw, she knew he would insist. He didn’t want to hear her explanations, and he didn’t want to ride to the hotel with them. He wanted to be alone and ruminate upon what he’d been told. It was clear he thought she’d deceived him. But if he wouldn’t give her an opportunity to explain, how would he learn the truth?

She stared after him as he strode away. How she wished she’d told him before they’d departed. This journey could prove to be a disaster.

S
hortly after Laura and her mother departed the station, Ewan ascertained the hotel was only a half mile away. After arranging for delivery of the baggage, he set out on foot, stopping for his evening meal at a small restaurant along the way. A chance meeting with Laura and her mother in the hotel dining room was the last thing he wanted right now.

He couldn’t deny the feelings of betrayal that had engulfed him when he’d learned Winston would be arriving in Wheeling. When Laura had arranged the trip to Wheeling, he’d assumed he would act as her escort. She’d never actually said as much. Then again, she’d never said he wouldn’t. Why had she been so secretive? Was she one of those girls who enjoyed toying with men? He’d seen his share of those lasses in Ireland. One day they’d make you think you were the only man alive, and the next you’d see them on the arm of another lad. And he’d obviously read far too much into those invitations.

He’d wanted to believe that Laura might have an interest in him that went beyond helping to get the brickyard established, but her kindness had been nothing more than a bit of blarney. It was merely her attempt at making an immigrant believe he could
be equal to someone like her father or Winston Hawkins. What a fool he’d been to think that someone as beautiful and refined as Laura Woodfield would ever cast a look in his direction.

He went to bed and reminded himself that the only females he should think about were his three sisters still living in Ireland. He must remember that he was responsible for them. Laura Woodfield had no need of a poor Scots-Irishman. She needed a gentleman of wealth and position. She needed Winston Hawkins.

The following morning, Ewan entered the dining room and requested a table by the window—a table with only two chairs. The waiter hadn’t yet served him his coffee when Mrs. Woodfield tapped him on the shoulder with a delicate lace fan. “What are you doing sitting over here by yourself? Didn’t you see us seated across the room?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but immediately flagged the waiter. “I left word with the maître d’ to seat Mr. McKay at our table.” She glanced toward the pedestal at the dining room entrance and frowned.

“He wasn’t there when I arrived, and I asked this waiter to seat me. ’Twas not the fault of the waiter, Mrs. Woodfield. If you’re wanting to place blame, it belongs to me, not this poor fellow.” The waiter scrambled behind them, fear shining in his eyes. No doubt the poor man worried he’d be without a job by day’s end. Ewan glanced over his shoulder. “You need not worry. We’ll be giving nothing but praise to anyone who asks about your service.” The waiter held Mrs. Woodfield’s chair for her. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Woodfield?” Ewan scrutinized the woman’s face for some sign of agreement.

She offered a barely distinguishable smile. “Yes, of course. This isn’t a matter of concern. You’ve been most helpful.”

Though the waiter’s spine remained as straight as a broomstick,
his jaw relaxed a modicum. “Thank you, madam.” He gave a slight bow and glanced at Ewan. “And my thanks to you, as well, sir.”

“No need for thanks,” Ewan said, giving the waiter a friendly pat on the shoulder. The man hurried away from their table, most likely feeling quite pleased that his tables were in another section. After nodding to Laura, Ewan took a seat between the two ladies.

Mrs. Woodfield draped a linen napkin across her lap and leaned toward Ewan. “It is not proper etiquette to be overly friendly with the hotel staff. Touching them in any manner isn’t acceptable.” Ewan picked up the cut-glass pitcher and poured water into his goblet. When he attempted to add water to Mrs. Woodfield’s glass, she quickly covered it with her hand. “You do not pour your own water, either. That is why they have waiters, Mr. McKay.”

Ewan nodded toward the waiter. “If he’s busy helping people at another table and I’m thirsty, why should I wait for him to pour the water? That makes no sense.”

Mrs. Woodfield looked at Laura. Obviously she hoped her daughter would be able to explain. “Mother is trying to help you understand proper rules of etiquette so that you won’t be embarrassed in the future. Many of the rules may seem foolish, but you’ll soon grow accustomed to them.” Attired in a lovely dress that accentuated her dark brown curls, she appeared to fit perfectly in these lavish surroundings, while he felt as uncomfortable as a fish on dry ground.

“Here you are! I’m glad for the opportunity to see you before you depart for your meetings this morning.” Winston appeared at Laura’s side with a smile as wide as the front door. He gave Ewan a faint nod and turned the remaining empty chair toward Laura.

Water goblet and silverware in hand, their waiter appeared out of nowhere and hurried to Winston’s side. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize another guest would be joining this group.” He poured some water into Winston’s glass. “Coffee?”

“I’ve already had my breakfast.” Winston dismissed the waiter with a flick of his wrist.

After a slight nod, the waiter backed away from the table and returned to his position behind one of the nearby pillars, a spot where he could inconspicuously observe his assigned tables. With his back to Ewan, Winston continued to engage the ladies in conversation, inquiring about the suitability of their accommodations and assuring them he would do anything necessary to ensure their comfort. If it had been Winston’s intent to shut him out of their small circle, he’d succeeded. Ewan felt as invisible as the restaurant staff. When the waiter arrived with their breakfast, Winston stood and offered Laura and her mother effusive good-byes. The nod Winston directed at Ewan was so swift and negligible that he had no time to return the gesture. The message was clear: Winston wasn’t happy to have another man present. The one commonality he and Ewan shared—beyond their interest in Laura, of course.

“May I offer thanks for our meal?” Ewan asked, looking toward Mrs. Woodfield for approval.

“Of course.” She’d hesitated as if somewhat surprised by his request.

Uncertain if he’d overstepped propriety, he kept the prayer short. Perhaps giving thanks for one’s food in a fancy dining room wasn’t acceptable. When they were alone later, he would ask Laura if the practice was frowned upon. There seemed to be endless rules among these wealthy, fancy folks. He’d soon need a notebook to write them all down, so he could review them each time he came to Wheeling or Pittsburgh.

As their meetings progressed throughout the day, Ewan faced the fact that securing contracts wasn’t going to prove as simple
as he’d thought. Having Mrs. Woodfield and Laura along had gotten his foot in the door, but securing a deal fell upon his unseasoned shoulders. His meeting at a building site in Fairmont didn’t compare to these conferences in wood-paneled offices with oversized mahogany desks and cigar-smoking men in expensive suits who immediately sniffed out Ewan’s inexperience. Granted, he knew more about bricks than any of these businessmen, but his experience in Ireland had been supervising the brickmaking process, not negotiating contracts.

Spotting Winston waiting at the front door of the hotel when they returned only served to dishearten him further. No doubt Winston would take pleasure in hearing that Ewan had met with little success.

Winston looked to be in a good mood. “I hope your day was as successful as my own.” He offered Laura his arm, but it was Mrs. Woodfield who sidestepped and grasped hold. He looked surprised, but he quickly recovered and patted Mrs. Woodfield’s hand before turning toward Ewan. “Any luck with your meetings?”

“Nothing definite. The men appeared interested, but they’re not willing to move forward until they have an opportunity to examine the product.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell them a brick is a brick. We all know that one brick is about the same as any other. My guess is you lack the ability to convince them. They’re accustomed to dealing with men who know how to drive a hard bargain, and it appears you waved a white flag.” He shook his head. “Hard to gain respect after you’ve done that.”

“I will have you know that a brick is not a brick, Winston, and Ewan did not wave a white flag.” Laura’s eyes flashed with anger. “Do you also believe that all shoes are alike?”

“There’s nothing similar about shoes and bricks, Laura.” There was a hint of disdain in Winston’s voice.

Laura stopped short. “There
is
a similarity between shoes and bricks. A good shoe depends upon how the leather is tanned and on the talent of the cobbler. A good brick depends upon the quality of the clay and the talent of the brickmaker. If a brick isn’t dried long enough before entering the kiln or if the burner doesn’t know how to maintain a proper fire, the brick may look good on the outside, but crack under pressure.” She tipped her head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. “I believe politicians sometimes crack under pressure, as well. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t think there’s time for a discussion regarding bricks or politicians right now. I’m eager to go upstairs and rest for a while before attending tonight’s festivities.” Mrs. Woodfield gestured to her daughter. “Judging from your peevish remarks to Winston, I think a bit of rest would serve you well, too, Laura.”

“I don’t think my remarks were peevish, Mother. I thought Winston’s assessment completely inaccurate, and I merely set forth my position. I’m sure he’s accustomed to being challenged. After all, he’s required to debate his cases in the courtroom.”

“True, but you’re not his adversary, Laura.” Her mother arched her brows at Laura as their waiter scurried to help with her chair.

As they prepared to depart the dining room, Ewan leaned close to Laura so the others wouldn’t hear. “Thank you for defending me, but I’m sure your mother is correct. Your remarks appear to have troubled him.”

Laura’s shoulders lifted and dropped in a slight shrug. “Making Winston happy isn’t why I’ve come here. I don’t ever want my father’s brickyard to fail.”

Ewan remained beside her as they ascended the hotel stairs. “But it isn’t your father’s brickyard any longer.”

“Perhaps not, but if it doesn’t succeed, I will feel as though I have failed him. He would want you to experience great success, and so do I.”

“Did I hear you wish me success, my dear?” Winston glanced over his shoulder as they arrived at the hallway leading to their rooms.

Ewan tensed. Was Laura Winston’s “dear,” or was Winston merely intent upon staking his claim when he deemed an adversary might be vying for her attention? “No, you didn’t, but I know Mother is hopeful your political career will prove a great success.”

When they’d come to a stop in front of the suite occupied by the two ladies, Winston turned to Laura. “I trust you desire the same success for me.”

“I would wish failure only upon those who attempt to reach their goals by deception and fraud or at the expense of others. Since I doubt you fall into any of those categories, I wish you success.” Her lips tilted in a fleeting smile before she stepped toward the door. As she turned to look over her shoulder, the abrupt movement caused the feathers on her hat to sway.

Her comment was a reminder that Ewan’s uncle had accumulated the funds to purchase the brickyard by cheating at cards. If Laura knew, what would she do? Would she ask her mother to renege on the contract?

Ewan’s stomach clenched so tight he was overcome by a bout of queasiness. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room.” Without waiting for an answer, he hurried down the hallway.

“Don’t forget to meet us downstairs at seven o’clock, Mr. McKay.”

Ewan continued moving but waved to acknowledge Mrs. Woodfield’s reminder. Right now he didn’t want to think about a dinner party.