A Perfect Lady, page 18
part #3 of The Mackenzie Brothers Series
A red flush swept up into Patrick’s face, and his jowls quivered as he slammed his goblet down hard enough to send red wine sloshing over the lip. He rose, his glare practically shooting sparks as he snarled, “You’ve a bit of nerve, boy.”
“A bit of nerve, eh? For refusing to stand here and allow you to besmirch my wife? For not allowing you to try your best to humiliate her? And in her own home, nonetheless. You heard the lady, didn’t you? She hardly needs our money, when she’s plenty of her own. My wife will inherit an entire island, Commodore. Did you know that?”
“Your wife? Inherit an island?” A derisive laugh burst up forth. “You are a fool, Jamie. How do you know she’s even pregnant? How do you know she isn’t — ”
Rebecca gasped as James jerked his hand free and, in one fluid motion, grabbed Patrick by the throat. Patrick let out a strangled squeak as James lifted him up onto the tips of his toes, sending the chair behind him toppling over backward. “How do you know why I married her, old man? How do you know I didn’t go and fall madly in love with her during my stay on St. Kitts? She’s beautiful, isn’t she? And that’s not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, judging by the pains she taken around this rubbish heap to beat it into some semblance of a home.”
“Yes, but — ” Patrick’s words rasped over one another, his tongue protruding from between his lips as a frightening paleness crept into his skin.
“James, you’re choking him.” Rebecca caught him by the wrist of the hand squeezing Patrick’s throat. “Let go of him. Please.”
James ignored her, shaking her off his arm as he walked Patrick backward across the dining room to pin him against the wall. “Answer me, Father. You know your boy so well. You know your daughter-in-law so well — or at least you think you know her. Answer!”
The gurgles were wet and squeaky, enough to turn Rebecca’s belly with such force, she sank to her knees to try to stave off retching. “James, please stop!” Tears stung her eyes, stung her cheeks as they overflowed her lower lashes.
“She’s…. a tart…” Spittle flew in all directions from the Commodore’s shiny fat lips. “A useless, trollop… good for only one thing — eurk!”
“James!” Rebecca shouted, gaping at how far the Commodore’s eyes bulged from their sockets. She expected them to burst from their sockets. “You’re killing him, James! Please, please release him.”
James opened his fist to let Patrick go. As he hit the floor, Patrick coughed and sputtered and rubbed his neck, all the while glaring at Rebecca. “I don’t give a good goddamn if she says her prayers morning, noon, and night. She is a whore, and her child a bastard, and they will not remain beneath this roof one more night!”
“The hell she won’t. It’s snowing. It’s cold. And you’re foxed, old man. You go sleep it off, and come tomorrow, you will apologize — ” Patrick tried to cut him off, but James was having none of it. “Yes, you will apologize or I will toss your scraggy bones right out into the streets. Whether you like it or not, old man, she is my wife and she stays with me.”
Patrick finally broke his son’s hold on him. “You are a madman, Jamie. A bleedin’ madman!”
“What I am is about to defend my wife’s honor, and I don’t care who’s doing the questioning. The next body who thinks to speak ill of her, they will get a taste of my fist.” He spun around to give the Commodore his back. “Mr. Charles! Bring one of the carriages around. Mrs. McKenzie and I are going to eat in town this evening.”
Rebecca bit the inside of her cheek at the raw anger draping his words, clouding his eyes, as he took her cloak from the peg behind the front doors, and draped it about her shoulders. He remained stonily silent as he shrugged into his greatcoat, then yanked open the door. A carriage waited for them, the driver looking none too happy about being out in the snow.
For her, it was something amazing. She’d never seen snow before, the fluffy white flakes dropping silently this way. They swirled all around, settling on the horses’ gleaming coats, on the bare tree branches stretching like long fingers across the night sky, and in James’s thick dark hair.
She turned her hand palm up, the flakes coming to rest against the midnight blue fabric of her glove. How beautiful. “Does it snow here often?” She looked up to find James gazing down at her with an odd expression on his face. “What? Did I say something I shouldn’t?”
“No. Not at all. I’ve simply never seen anyone so taken by snow. I forget you’ve spent your life on an island.”
Without thinking, she slipped her free arm through his, her other hand still a landing spot for snowflakes. “Will the ground stay white all winter?”
“Most likely. Until about April. And then it rains nonstop.”
“Sounds lovely. Sometimes sunny and warm every day is dull until June.”
To her relief, he smiled. “I can imagine. I know I was looking forward to a month of ice and snow after all that beauty.”
The driver climbed down to tug open the door. “Good evening Captain McKenzie, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“We’re going to Penrose’s, in town on Walnut.” James ushered her into the carriage, settling across from her.
Once they were moving, James broke the silence. “I know the Commodore won’t do it, so I’m going to apologize for him.”
Her discomfort surged forth again. “I didn’t mean to blurt out about the babe the way I did. I thought it might help the situation.”
“He’s impossible to get along with. I know. I’ve been trying to figure it out for years.”
“Has he always been this way?”
James nodded. “As long as I can remember. Nothing has ever pleased him. My oldest brother Charles came the closest. But then he was killed at Monmouth, and my father never quite forgave him for dying. Me, Jacob, my mother — not one of us could make him happy. He took no pride in anything any of us did.
“Then Jake died in Morristown.” James’s voice hardened, and despite the carriage’s dark interior, she saw his hand tighten into a fist between his knees. “He died during that winter — that brutal, terrible winter where the snow was never-ending. We were up in Jockey Hollow — ”
“You were together?”
He nodded. “We were in the same regiment. Jake was supposed to keep watch over me, but it ended up being the other way around. It was a miserable winter. Dysentery ran rampant through the camp. That made the Commodore even more furious, that Jake didn’t die a glorious death on a battlefield, but huddled in a log cabin in the middle of a blizzard.”
His words were softly bitter, and she wanted to take his hand in hers to squeeze it. She knew his pain too well, knew the loss he carried inside him. “And when you came home?”
A wry smile lifted his lips. “I bore the rank of Captain and probably should have just stayed with General Washington.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar to her. She’d overheard Charles and the Commodore discussing someone named Washington the previous afternoon. “Your king?”
“President, sweetheart. We don’t have a king.”
“I’m afraid I know nothing about your country. My father was a firm believer that women and politics are a terrible combination. He would never allow me to remain in the room when he and his cronies began railing against King George.”
“He is right. Women and politics are a terrible combination.”
“Why? I’m not stupid. I do have a working brain in here.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger.
“I never said you were, Becca. But most women… let’s simply leave it at there’s a reason why men run things and women don’t.”
“How unfair. I’ve done quite well running Stonebridge. The household runs smoothly, and it’s slowly beginning to look like a home instead of merely a falling down building.” She sat back against the seat, crossing her arms to stare at him. “Or are you going to be as your father is, and refuse to — ”
“I am not him.”
“So then say it.” Without thinking, she nudged his knee with her boot. “It’s all right, James. I’ll say it for you.”
She cleared her throat to deepen her voice, then said, “You’ve done a fine job with Stonebridge, Rebecca.” She delved further into the role, her balled hands resting on her hips. “Better than any man I know. If you ran the world, all the problems would be solved. Here. France. Eng — ”
James’s chuckle made her own laughter impossible to hold back, especially when his chuckles burst into a throaty roar. Her arms went at ease, her hands falling into her lap as her shoulders shook from the force of her laugh.
“I can promise you, Becca, while I am impressed with the changes you’ve made at Stonebridge, I don’t think you’re quite ready to take on the world’s problems as well.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Someday, perhaps, but not yet.”
“And the rest?”
He didn’t reply but caught her by the hands to tug her up from her bench and down onto his lap. The motion sent an oddly heavy flutter rippling through her. He cradled her, his face lost in the darkness as he whispered, “You’ve done what the McKenzie men have been unable to accomplish. And for that, I am impressed. But, if it is a compliment you seek, you will have to stop beating around the bush for it.”
“So I should just ask you, then?”
“Try it sometime. I think you might enjoy the results.”
Her breath caught at the heaviness behind his stare. He was going to kiss her.
Before he could, the door opened and the driver poked his head in. “We’ve arrived, Captain McKenzie.”
James muttered something beneath his breath, something she couldn’t hear, and then he set her on her feet. “Help Mrs. McKenzie down, please.”
“Of course, Captain.” The driver held out his arm. “Madam?”
“Thank you.” She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to help her down onto the snowy walkway. The flakes fell even harder now, swirling wildly through the air. The air felt colder, so she drew her cloak more tightly.
James climbed out to stand beside her. Her hand came down to rest upon his, and as he caught it just by the fingertips, she didn’t feel quite so cold any longer.
Chapter Seventeen
The snow continued through the night, but stopped by dawn, leaving everything blanketed in a mantle of pure white. Rebecca stood at the parlor window, just staring out at it. An endless carpet of glittering white stretched from the house to the woods. Snow draped the tree branches like cloaks of white ermine.
A cardinal flew by the window and came to rest nestled among the branches of a fir tree, as scarlet as a drop of blood on a clean canvas. Sunlight danced across the snow’s surface to make it sparkle, and the reflection was so bright, her eyes watered if she stared too long. Still, she couldn’t help herself. It snatched the breath from her lungs.
“What’s on your mind, Becca?” James came up behind her to draw the curtain away from the window.
“I was just looking at the snow.” She smiled over her shoulder at him, and tapped one of the chilly panes with her forefinger. “And watching that family of deer over there. It’s all so peaceful.”
A slow grin stole over his face. “If you’d like, I’ll bring one of the chairs over?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I have far too much to do today. I want to finish the curtains for that window — ” she waved toward the windows to the right of them “ — and then I thought I might go into town to see about furnishings for a nursery.”
She searched his face for any sign of disapproval. However, no darkness flashed through his eyes or tension in his jaw. Instead, he nodded. “Do you need my help with any of that?”
“No. I think I can manage.”
“I’ll have Mr. Charles bring the coach around, and we’ll go into town together. I’ll go to Eagleton, and you can enjoy your afternoon of shopping.”
She leaned back into him. The movement felt so natural that she did it without thinking. “I will get my cloak and muff.”
His arms slid about her waist for a quick squeeze, and then he stepped back. “I’ll be back shortly.”
They parted ways, and when she stepped out onto the front porch, the blast of cold air sent a shiver through her. James assured her the air would get colder still, and she groaned at the thought. Fortunately, he also assured her she would have plenty of warm clothing to get her through her first winter.
One of those items was the cozy silver fox muff she now tucked her hands inside. The fur was so soft, so silky, she couldn’t help but rub it against her cheek. She was doing just that when the coach rolled up the drive.
The door opened, and James poked his head out. “Shall we?”
She climbed up to settle across from him. The coach’s interior wasn’t much warmer than the outside air, and James’s breath wafted from his nose in small silvery clouds. The cold bit into her legs beneath her skirts and stockings, touched her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
“How long does your winter last?” She couldn’t keep her feet still, but tapped them against the flooring to try to generate some heat. It didn’t help. Would she ever get used to such cold?
He didn’t look nearly as cold, bundled in his greatcoat, but then again, he was used to it. His breath emerged as a bigger cloud when he replied, “It will start to get warmer in March.”
“March!” She’d never survive four more months of this.
“It won’t stay this cold the entire time,” he assured her. “At least, it usually doesn’t.”
“I hope not.”
She shivered all the way into Brunswick, where the coach rocked to a halt outside the Eagleton warehouse. James climbed down, helped her down, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Which did you want to do first? Furniture or fabric?”
“Captain McKenzie?”
Rebecca stiffened at the feminine voice coming from behind her, and her eyes narrowed as she peered over her shoulder at the willowy brunette in the fur-trimmed scarlet cloak. James turned toward the woman, steering Rebecca with him. The woman’s smile was almost as bright as the sun as she hurried toward them. “I thought it was you! How are you? Where have you been? And more importantly, why haven’t you come to call?”
The woman flung herself at James, wrapping her arms about his neck. The force of her momentum knocked him back a few steps, pulling Rebecca’s arm from his. She stuffed her hands back into the muff and stared hard at him. It seemed a bit forward, the way this woman greeted him. Was that the acceptable custom in New Jersey? Did women throw themselves at any and all men they knew? Did they embrace them as if a long-lost lover?
Perhaps it was acceptable here, but on St. Kitts, that woman would have been roundly cast off and shunned by all of decent society. Rebecca stepped up to get a firm grip on the woman’s arm and tugged. “I beg your pardon, but that is my husband you are manhandling.”
“Husband?” The woman stepped back, her delicately arched ebony brows rising in surprise. “James? Did you get married?”
Disbelief echoed through the last word. A subtle dread stole over Rebecca as James untangled himself from the woman’s embrace and cleared his throat. “Leticia Baker, this is Rebecca McKenzie. Rebecca, Leticia Baker — an old friend of the family.”
She hoped her face remained impassive, despite the sense of impending doom slowly stealing over her. Still, Rebecca forced a smile to her lips. She slid her arm through James’s again. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Baker.”
Leticia’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and her smile was about as friendly as Rebecca’s. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. McKenzie.” She turned her cold smile to James. “I had no inkling you were so marriage-minded, James. You never gave any indication of it.”
Rebecca shot a sidelong glance up at him. A dull flush swept across his cheekbones. She’d never seen him look so uncomfortable. Other people passed by them, shivering as they hurried to their next destination, and Leticia’s teeth chattered. “I’ve never known you to be speechless, James.”
As quickly as it rose, the flush drained from James’s face. “Perhaps that’s because I wasn’t, until recently.” He covered Rebecca’s hand with his. “Marriage-minded, that is.”
Leticia’s gaze fell to his hand, and rose again, and a hint of warmth crept into her smile. “It’s about time. What does the Commodore have to say about it?”
“Use your imagination.”
Rebecca started as Leticia threw back her head and let loose a roar of throaty laughter that had heads all around them swiveling in their direction. She didn’t so much as blush as she said, “He took it that well, eh?”
Then she turned back to Rebecca and threw her arms about her. Rebecca stiffened, even as Leticia said, “It’s lovely to meet you, Rebecca. I’ve been waiting years for Jamie to settle down and take a wife, and I’m dying to know just how you did it!”
Leticia’s sudden change in demeanor was astonishing, to say the least, and left her at a loss for words. Her brain whirled feverishly as James chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I told you she’d like you, Becca.”
She sniffed. “That is hardly a proper introduction.”
Leticia thankfully broke her hold on her and stepped back to lay a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. That wasn’t my intention at all. I was only teasing, and it seemed all so amusing when it was in my head.” She looked to James, then back to her. “I truly intended no harm, and I do hope you’ll forgive me so that we might be friends.”
It was said with such sincerity that Rebecca couldn’t hold onto her irritation. Perhaps it wasn’t the most auspicious way to begin a friendship, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to be friendly, did it? She smiled. “Of course. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Looking very satisfied with himself, James smiled down at her. “Now, would you rather spend your afternoon shopping with Miss Baker or with someone who doesn’t know swaddling from kindling?”
“Swaddling?” Leticia’s eyes widened along with her smile. “James, need I congratulate you and your lovely bride on something more than marriage?”
