A Perfect Lady, page 19
part #3 of The Mackenzie Brothers Series
Rebecca waited for James’s reaction. She expected him to stiffen, or his jaw to tighten. However, he merely smiled and said, “I’ll let you ladies speak amongst yourselves. I’ll send Thomas around with the carriage around three. Will that give you enough time?”
She nodded. “More than enough.” She glanced over at Leticia. What on earth would they talk about over the course of the next three hours?
But Leticia beamed as she slipped her arm through Rebecca’s. “I don’t know about that, Rebecca. There’s simply so much for us to chat about. I may keep her for the next three days, Captain McKenzie.”
“Take care of her, Miss Baker,” James said, and bent to brush a kiss over Rebecca’s forehead. “Enjoy yourself, Becca. And have the bills sent to Stonebridge.”
And with that, he took himself off, whistling jauntily as he wove through the crowd toward Eagleton. She watched him disappear around the corner of Bayview and Poplar, then turned back to find Leticia grinning knowingly. “Have you any idea how many hearts will be broken, once word of your marriage gets ’round? Come, let’s have luncheon and then we can shop. My footman, Mr. Daniels, will be following in my coach.” She gestured over Rebecca’s shoulder at the line of coaches along the road.
Leticia didn’t wait for her to reply, but tugged on her arm to lead her down the shop-lined walkway to a small, white clapboard building standing independently from the row. It was a cozy-looking café, and as they came in from the cold, Rebecca eyed the fire crackling on the hearth. Would anyone think her odd if she just stood before it and warmed her hands — or any other part of her nearly frozen body? There were plenty of people inside, seated at small round tables, their hands wrapped around cups of hot tea or coffee and — if her nose wasn’t deceiving her — hot chocolate.
She breathed deep. The thick, sweet smell of chocolate hung in the air like a rich perfume. Although it wasn’t often chocolate was found at Windemere, its scent was permanently embedded in her mind. And it wasn’t the only delicious fragrance hanging in the air. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Sugar. Alone, each was a delight, but combined as they were? She almost groaned out loud as her stomach rumbled. Her nose had died and gone to heaven.
“There’s a table that isn’t too far from the fire.”
Rebecca wound her way through the mingling ladies, excusing herself as she bumped this person, or smiled politely when someone backed into her. All seemed friendly, if curious, and apparently Leticia was popular, judging by the number of women who called out a greeting as they passed.
“Lettie! What brings you out on such a frigid day?” A slender woman with a fringe of dark red peeping out from beneath her bonnet waved a slender hand at them. “Oh, and who might this be?”
“Stay quiet and go along with me.” Leticia flashed Rebecca a wicked grin, catching her by the wrist and all but dragging her to that table. Two dark-haired ladies sat with the redhead, and all three looked up at her curiously. All at once, those delicious aromas she’d been enjoying grew sickeningly cloying. Her hands, still tucked into her muff, began to sweat, so she eased them free.
Slipping her arm through Rebecca’s, Leticia smiled as she hugged it against her. “You will never guess, but it will be great fun to watch you try. Keep quiet — I’d like to introduce you to Miss. Gwendolyn Peters, Mrs. Elizabeth Townsend, and my sister, Miss Lydia Baker.”
That explained the striking resemblance between Leticia and the red-haired woman. They had the same almond-shaped blue eyes and the same dimple in their left cheek. Elizabeth narrowed leaf-green eyes. “She doesn’t look at all familiar, Leticia. How on earth are we supposed to know her?” She turned to Gwendolyn. “Does she look familiar to you? I know I’ve never seen her before.”
“Can’t say that she does.” Steam curled away from the surface of whatever hot liquid Gwendolyn was drinking, and she lifted the cup carefully to her lips. “And I know I’ve never seen her before.”
“What are you about, Lettie?” Lydia asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, stop glaring at me that way, Lyd. I’m not about anything.” Leticia laughed, and Rebecca shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Must they stare at her as if she was on exhibit? Any moment, and one was sure to poke at her at her, like one would when looking at a farm animal. If that happened, she was not going to be held responsible if she bit someone.
She bit the inside of her lip to keep her annoyance at bay, but she didn’t like Leticia’s treating her as a plaything and it was only out of politeness that she suffered their stares and banter in silence. Not to mention, it was growing old and tiring.
“Enough of the silliness, Lettie,” Lydia complained, sitting back in her chair and tapping her forefinger against the gleaming white tabletop. “Please let us in on the big secret and tell us who she is.”
“She is Mrs. Rebecca…” Leticia paused for dramatic effect, her smile widening. “Mrs. Rebecca McKenzie.”
It was as if someone had sucked all the sound out of the café. The three women simply stared, jaws agape — first at Leticia, then at her. Only now she didn’t feel so much like an exhibit. Instead, a surge of power swept through her. It lasted only a few moments, for then Lydia found her voice. “Lettie, do you mean to tell us, that she travels with Captain McKenzie?”
“Travels with?” Elizabeth almost dropped her cup, but managed to right it long enough to set it flat with a bang. “Is that a bit of new cant I’ve yet to learn?”
Gwendolyn was the first to regain her composure. She tucked a wayward auburn curl back beneath her bonnet, and said, “Do you mean to tell me — ” she spun about to rise from her chair. She skirted the table to catch Rebecca by the elbow. “You have married Captain James McKenzie?”
“I have.” She held up her left hand, the one bearing the heavy gold ring. “Since before we left St. Kitts.”
“Do you have any idea… any at all, how many hearts will simply shatter when they meet you?” Elizabeth chuckled. “You are going to be such great demand at all the parties, just so people can stop and stare and hope and dream to one day be you.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Rebecca said, a bit more loudly than she’d planned. “Why me?”
“Well, sit yourself down and I’ll tell you,” Lydia Baker insisted, pushing a white straight-backed chair toward her. “Your husband has had his pick of the ladies in Brunswick since he was but a boy. We’ve all, at one point or another, schemed to find a way to land Jamie McKenzie. His brothers were too old for us, thought we were a group of silly girls and they didn’t have time for us.”
“But Captain McKenzie did?” Rebecca asked this quietly. She wasn’t entirely certain she want to hear about James’s past. Especially where such pretty young ladies were so obviously involved.
“Did he ever!” Elizabeth announced, slapping the tabletop with her hand. “A rakehell, that’s what Mother always called him.” Her cheeks flushed a fiery red as she whispered, “Mother said he’d mount anything that didn’t have sense enough to run away.”
“He did!” Gwendolyn burst out laughing. “Remember, the night of Charles’s wedding?”
Shrieks of laughter rolled out from all directions, while Rebecca’s smile faded. Of course she wouldn’t remember any of their times, she wasn’t there, hadn’t been there. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Instead of revisiting her husband’s past conquests, she’d much rather find furniture for the nursery.
“Who could forget that?” Lydia panted between her laughter. “I’d never seen all three McKenzie boys so foxed that, between them, they couldn’t walk a crooked line!”
“And Charlie got caught dancing with the white pine near the kitchen!” Elizabeth whooped, clapping her hands as she broke into throaty chuckles. “And Jake… Jake…”
Gwendolyn’s chilly demeanor finally cracked as she smiled a particularly toothsome smile. “Jake tried to woo Abigail Cotton into the barn,”
“That would have worked,” Lydia said, struggling to keep her face straight and failing miserably, “had he only remembered to muck the stalls that morning!”
“And remember the scandal James caused?” Elizabeth lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
Rebecca swallowed hard as every nerve sprang to life, every muscle tensed in dread of what she was about to hear. Why hadn’t she insisted James come shopping with her instead? This was not exactly the way she’d envisioned passing her afternoon. She cast a longing glance at the door. What sort of stir would she create if she simply gathered her muff and showed herself out?
She started to rise, only to be halted by Leticia’s stern, “This is hardly appropriate, ladies.”
But Gwendolyn ignored her, clapping her gloved hands together as if in anticipation of a wonderful treat. “Oh, James. Jamie McKenzie was not about to waste his time on some little girl his age. No sir. He took one look around the ballroom and honed in on Miss Sarah Clandon. They vanished upstairs, and when they returned, both looked very, very pleased with themselves.”
That tidbit flattened her mood completely, and she sank back into her chair. She didn’t want to think of the most likely numerous amounts of women he’d bedded before meeting her. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for Leticia’s brows lowered, and she covered Rebecca’s hand with hers. “You three are terrible. How could you be so cruel? His wife is sitting right here, and you’re laughing about something that he did a lifetime ago?”
Elizabeth’s smile faded and twin red spots appeared on her pale cheeks. Lydia appeared equally abashed, her gaze cast down to the table. Only Gwendolyn seemed unconcerned, even annoyed at being scolded as she said, “I beg your pardon, of course, Mrs. McKenzie.”
Although it was the last thing she felt like doing, Rebecca forced a thin smile to her lips. “It’s quite all right. I imagine James does have a bit of a past. I suppose I’d be a fool to think otherwise.”
“You certainly would.” Gwendolyn’s voice was low, but there was no mistaking her words were meant for her to hear.
“Gwendolyn!” Leticia scowled. “Do I need to kick you under the table?”
Lydia cleared her throat and turned toward Rebecca. “Perhaps we might start over. We aren’t normally so cruel. I don’t know what’s gotten into any of us.” She rose then skirted the table to set a hand against Rebecca’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive us. In the meantime, would you prefer hot tea or hot chocolate?”
“Chocolate, please.”
Lydia flashed a friendly smile and hurried off to fetch the hot chocolate. Leticia patted her hand reassuringly. “Hopefully it won’t be too long of a wait. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so crowded. Everyone must need to thaw a bit. It’s brutal out there. Coldest day of the year, I heard someone say.”
“I’ll say,” Elizabeth said, smiling at Rebecca. “And where did you call home, Mrs. McKenzie?”
“St. Kitts. Which, on its coldest day, didn’t even approach this sort of chill,” she replied, resisting the urge to peer at the door again, even as Gwendolyn glared at her over the rim of her cup. The hatred almost radiated off her, and Rebecca wanted to shrink back against her chair.
“You’ll have to excuse Miss Peters’ attack of bitters,” Leticia said, shooting Gwendolyn a black look. “She doesn’t wear jealousy very well, I’m afraid.”
“I am hardly jealous,” Gwendolyn fired back. “I simply don’t — ”
“Here we are!” Lydia sing-songed over Rebecca’s shoulder as she placed the cup of steaming chocolate on the table. “Enjoy and try not to burn yourself.”
“I thank you.” Rebecca pulled the cup closer, wrapping her hands about it to take away the last of the chills. It was unfortunate she couldn’t remove the chill from Gwendolyn’s demeanor, however. Even as the ladies resumed their lighthearted chatter, Gwendolyn continued glaring at her across the table.
“St. Kitts?” Elizabeth frowned. “Where is that?”
“It’s an island in the West Indies.”
“The West Indies!” A wistful sigh wove through Lydia’s words. “How lovely. Is that where you met Captain McKenzie?”
This was said with a pointed look at Gwendolyn, who sniffed and sipped her drink. Rebecca ignored her slit-eyed glare as she nodded. “I did. At a masquerade ball.”
“How romantic!” Leticia rose from her chair. “I’m going to see about a fresh cup. Does anyone else need one?”
No one else did, and as Leticia flitted off, Lydia leaned closer. “Do tell about this masquerade ball, Rebecca. And do not leave out a single thing.”
Despite Gwendolyn’s hostility, Rebecca smiled. “There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. The ball was held by a dear friend of mine, and Captain McKenzie monopolized my attentions the entire evening.”
“She loved him right from first sight. Just as Chaucer wrote,” Lydia said with wistfulness.
“No doubt,” Elizabeth concurred, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. “And let me guess; as the end of his time on the island drew near, Captain McKenzie pledged his undying love as he asked for your hand?”
What was the harm in indulging in their romantic fantasy of her not-so-romantic reality? She gazed down into her cup, at the chocolate’s smooth surface. “It went a bit like that, yes.”
“I always thought that’s how it would happen for him,” Lydia declared, her cup thudding softly against the table as she set it down. “So many ladies in Brunswick did their darnedest — pardon my tongue — to lure him to the altar, and he always seemed so determined to avoid it, even after his brothers married.”
“So what have I missed?” Leticia returned empty-handed. “Mrs. MacLeod is brewing fresh pots, it will be a while, and as we have Mr. Daniels waiting for us, we should be going.”
Then, to Rebecca’s horror, Leticia added, “We’re shopping for nursery furnishing.”
Heat sprang to Rebecca’s cheeks as congratulations came at her. Even Gwendolyn congratulated her. She took a swallow of the now-warm chocolate. It was rich and delicious. “Thank you, all.”
“And you will, of course, keep in mind that if there’s anything we can do,” Leticia said, “we will gladly do it. Now, are you ready to shop?”
Chapter Eighteen
By the time she returned to Stonebridge, Rebecca wanted only to go up to her room and lie down. However, with Leticia’s help, she found the perfect furnishings for the room that would soon be the nursery: A cradle, two chests, a wardrobe, toys, and a rocking horse. All would be ready in time for the child’s late spring arrival. She also splurged on herself and bought several bottles of a beautiful, lilac-scented perfume.
Patrick was in the parlor and grunted as she went by with her shopping bag of perfume. “Where’s Jamie?”
“He’s still at the harbor, as far as I know. I haven’t seen him since this morning.” She paused in the doorway. He looked gaunt, his face drawn and pinched, and his white hair was even wilder than usual. “Have you had dinner? Shall I have Cook prepare you something?”
He didn’t look up from the book in his hands. “I’m fine.”
“Very well.”
“Did you enjoy spending our money?”
Her belly tightened at the menace in Patrick’s voice. “The nursery needs furniture. I was hardly spending frivolously. And besides, James said — ”
“I don’t give a good goddamn what he said.” He turned the page.
Why did he have to cut so sharply? Why not just let the matter drop? She swallowed her rising growl of irritation. Why did she bother stopping to find out if he’d eaten? He made it very clear what he thought of her, and yet she continued to try to get him to come around. She wanted him and James to repair their fractured relationship, wanted him to accept her into their family.
But why? Why was it so darn important to her? Perhaps she needed to find a way to make it less important.
Shaking her head, she lifted her skirts and continued up the stairs to her room. As she was arranging the glittering perfume bottles on her dressing table, the door opened and James strode in, unwinding his stock. “Did you enjoy your afternoon with the ladies?”
She smiled into the mirror. “I did. How did you know Miss Baker would be out this morning?”
“I sent Mr. Thomas to deliver a note to her this morning.” As he spoke, he came up behind her and his hands rested on her shoulders. “I told you she would like you. I thought you would probably like her just as well.”
“She seems very friendly, James. Thank you.”
He gently squeezed her shoulders. “It isn’t easy, being in a foreign place, where you have only me and my curmudgeonly father for company.”
“Well, as I said, I thank you. With the exception of Miss Peters, they are all quite lovely.” She had to fight her to keep her eyelids opened from his rhythmic kneading of her shoulders. His touch was so gentle, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. She wanted to lean back, to let her head come to rest against his belly. A sleepiness crept over her.
The spat with Patrick slid from her mind as James bent over and his lips brushed her ear. His breath was warm against the slope of her neck. As his lips brushed her skin, she tilted her head to the right as gooseflesh swept up her arm and down her back. Dear Lord, the caress felt heavenly. It was so unexpected, yet so welcome.
“What are you doing?” Her words were so thick, so slow, even as they seemingly popped free of their own volition.
He chuckled softly in her ear. “Do you complain?”
“Well, no…I don’t suppose I do.” Complain? Why would she ever complain about something she found so delightful?
His hand closed about hers, and he drew her up from the bench and into his arms. She wound her arms about his neck, pulling him closer as his mouth closed over hers. He lifted her up, pressing her into him, and the tip of his tongue flicked out to nudge her lips apart.
The tingles over her skin seeped into it to race through her as his kiss deepened. Long and sensual and sweet, he thoroughly tasted her, leaving her breathless and lightheaded. She clung to him, even after he broke the kiss, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged. Her head lolled back as he swept his lips down over her throat and into her décolletage.
