Younger & Wylder, page 6
Una and Sarah stayed until Sarah’s husband and adorable little boy came looking for her. Race returned from his errand shortly after and kept to his office the rest of the afternoon.
Millie could hardly keep the grin from her face. Her plan to seduce her husband was starting to take shape. She didn’t ask her new friends’ advice yet. It was too personal a topic for a first meeting. They would have tea again next week and she’d try to work her questions into the conversation somehow.
First, she would make herself a new dress. All during tea, she studied the lines and cut of Una’s dress. Millie was confident she could copy the pattern from memory and make the same sort of thing for herself. She’d never worn anything so low-cut. It seemed daring for everyday wear, but she wanted to appear daring and bold, like Una.
She had an old corset packed away in a trunk; she’d find it to wear with the new dress. Her full bosom embarrassed her, but the new Millie would use it to her advantage.
“Closing time already?” Race came out of his office untying his apron.
“It’s five. I’m heading up and start dinner. It was a good day, Race. I’m so happy.” It bubbled up inside her, threatening to overflow. She walked over to her husband. Butterflies started playing with the bubbles in her chest. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for us.” Before she could doubt herself, she stepped forward and wrapped Race in a hug. Her head only reached his chest, so she mashed her cheek into the placket of his shirt, knowing she’d probably have little, round button imprints on her face.
Race staggered back a half step and coughed, but after a few seconds returned her embrace. She squeezed him tighter, his lips and nose pressed the top of her head. This was progress. His hand ran up her back and rested on her bare neck. Gooseflesh erupted down her arms. She grazed her hands up his solid back and the heat of him penetrated through her dress. He emitted a low groan. They’d hugged before, but this was something a bit more stirring. Race released her abruptly and stepped back.
He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like it here, Mills. I went by the Catholic church while I was out earlier. We won’t be able to get an annulment there since we weren’t married there, and you aren’t Catholic. I’ll try the Episcopal preacher when he’s back in town.”
All Millie’s excitement for the day came crashing down around her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Why are you in such an all-fired hurry to get rid of me?” She gulped in a breath to keep from crying. She would have an adult conversation with him about this.
Race sighed and stepped away from her. “Mills, we’ve talked about this—”
“We have not. You’ve told me what you plan to do. You haven’t asked me what I want.”
“You don’t understand. I’m broken, Mills. You deserve a better man than me. You deserve a young man that can give you the best years of his life. I don’t have anything left to offer.”
Millie stomped her foot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve been together for six years. I’ve seen what you consider broken. Race, you’ve been healing this whole time. And why would I want a younger man? I’m already used to you. I love you.”
He hung his head. “It doesn’t matter how you or I feel. I can’t let emotions get in the way of the right thing to do. If we became husband and wife in truth, eventually you’d come to resent me and my moods and you’d be stuck with an old man when you’re still in your child-bearing years.”
“Argh!” Millie threw her hands in the air. The tears were gone, replaced by frustrated anger. “I’m going upstairs.” She stalked toward the staircase.
“I’m going for a walk. Leave the pot on the stove; I’ll clean up.”
****
Five nights. Five nights Millie sat up mending clothes while Race’s dinner chilled on the stove. Five nights he had gone walking to avoid being alone with her. She couldn’t wait to meet with Una and Sarah, she needed advice she could start using now.
Her new dress was coming along; she’d chosen a deep garnet polished cotton that looked almost like silk. She thought about using black buttons and piping on it, but decide it too closely resembled some of the designs Bethy used to wear. She settled on mother of pearl buttons and creamy piping and lace. The fabric was all cut and she’d start sewing that day. Race barely left his workshop or looked at her, so she didn’t need to worry about hiding it from him. His emotional absence left her bereft.
After Race left them the other day, Una and Sarah explained all about the Wylder County Social Club. She’d been aware of similar establishments in Santa Fe and Iowa City. She’d even been friendly with many of the girls when they came into the mercantile.
This new information intrigued her for two reasons. One, these were women who knew their way around men. They could give her advice. Two, they were also potential clientele for her dress shop. It gave her a way in. After that, she’d play it by ear.
She packed a basket with fabric swatches and some dress sketches.
“Race, I’m running to the post office with a letter to Bethy. Watch the front for me, please.” She took a bonnet off the coat hook and tied it on.
Race poked his head out of the workshop. “I can post it for you when I’m out.”
“No need. I’m feeling pent-up. I’ll stretch my legs a bit and be back.”
Race grunted and went back to his work.
It did feel wonderful to be out in the middle of the day. It was warmer than she’d expected and was glad for her bonnet. In the distance she could see snow on the mountains and wondered if it would all melt away in a month when summer arrived.
Delicious aromas emanated from the diner located catty-cornered from her shop. She and Race never ate out, but the place always seemed to be full. Besides the boarding house and hotel, it was the only place to get a meal you didn’t cook yourself.
This early in the day, Old Cheyenne Road didn’t look the way Race had described it, largely due to the saloon’s quieter daytime clientele. The train platform and stage line buildings were equally deserted.
She did have a letter for Bethy, so stopped at the post office first. Then she circled to the back of the building. She could see the brothel sitting all by its lonesome on the other side of the railroad tracks. She looked to her right and left. No one stirred. Taking a deep bread, she marched with determined steps across the tracks all the way up to the front door.
****
1848
“Why’re we going to Santa Fe?” Millie clung to her seat as they bumped their way across trail after barely-there trail.
“I recently obtained ownership of a mercantile there.”
“Daddy said you sold clocks.”
“I do. I work for E. Howe Clock Company in Massachusetts. I’m somewhat of a traveling merchant, but the job offers me the freedom to move about as I choose.”
“You’re not going to be able to travel if yer runnin’ a shop an have a wife.”
Race grimaced. “This isn’t going to be a normal marriage.”
“Why not?”
Race shifted in his seat, trying to put more space between him and his new wife. “Do you know what goes on between a married man and woman?”
“The woman who raised me is a whore. Course I know.”
Race didn’t quite know what to make of that statement. He’d met Bethesda briefly. She hadn’t been introduced as Millie’s mother, but she obviously felt that way toward the girl. The story of Millie’s mother had not been shared. “And do you have any feelings like that for me?” He detested having this conversation with a girl who was essentially a child. He turned to give her a searching look, begging her to be honest.
Millie blushed furiously. “I think yer handsome.” Her hand snaked up to the hair at her nape. She stopped, then fisted it in her lap.
“That’s not the same thing, Millie.” He gentled his tone as he would for a nervous animal.
“Why’d you marry me then, if you didn’t want a wife?”
Race sighed. “I didn’t want to see you misused. You reminded me of my—” But she didn’t really remind him of Mary Catherine at all. Technically, he was old enough to have fathered her. His stomach turned, renewing the nausea he’d been battling all morning. “You remind me of my friend’s little sister. I didn’t like the look of Mr. Monroe. Not that you were given a choice, but it was him or me.”
She thought on this for a moment, then said, “I thank you, I s’pose, but I don’t know you either. If I’m not to act like your wife, what am I supposed to do?”
“Think of me as a wise older brother.”
“Wiser than who? You’d better not say me. You’re the one saddled with a wife you don’t want.”
She wasn’t wrong in her assessment. “How about just an older brother, then?”
She eyed him up and down. “So’s I can marry someone else someday when boys come a courtin’?”
Regret filled him. He’d trapped them both in his hasty rescue. “We’re still a few years off from worrying about that. We’ll ford that river when we get to it.”
Millie slumped in her seat. “I’m sorry for ruining yer life.”
“It was already ruined and on its way to getting worse. You most likely saved my life and gave me something to live for, the next few years. Maybe by the time you’re grown, I’ll have figured out what to do with the rest of it.”
****
A bleary-eyed woman answered Millie’s knock on the door of the imposing red house. Though the curtains were drawn on every window, the white-washed shutters gave the home stately appeal. She would not have guessed it to be a brothel. It looked ready to welcome rich men and heads of state. Perhaps maybe it sometimes did.
“Good day. My name is Mildred Lowery and I’ve recently opened a dress shop in town. I wanted to introduce myself to your, ah, the person in…” She was saved from having to finish when the woman bellowed up the stairwell.
“Amber, Crystal! There’s a dressmaker here!” She lifted the basket from Millie’s arm. “May I?” It seemed the girl was going to with or without her consent, so she relinquished the basket to her eager hands.
Two more women, presumably Amber and Crystal, clamored down the stairs in disheveled nightclothes and too, fell upon the basket.
Millie raised her voice. “I’m here to see the person in charge of ordering clothing.”
One of the girls from upstairs popped her head up. “Sorry. Let me get Miss Addie for you.” She hurried off down a dark hallway.
As Millie’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior, details began to take shape. Like the exterior of the house, red seemed to be the predominant theme indoors as well. Dark-stained wood floors and wall paneling sucked light from the room, possibly remedied by a wrought iron chandelier handing overhead. The room was lined with upholstered chairs and loveseats in varying shades of red and burgundy. An upright piano sat in the corner with a candelabra on top. The spinning stool tucked in front shone with patina. The Social Club was every bit as elegant as its name suggested. Bethy would have loved it.
“May I help you?”
Millie spun from her gawking. She always assumed the term ‘Madam’ referred to someone older. It surprised her to find Adelaide Willowby close to her own age. That’s where the similarities ended. She appeared to have been in the midst of her morning toilette. A long cornsilk colored coil of hair hung over one shoulder and a wrapper protected her silk jacquard day dress. What the woman lacked in years, she made up for in presence.
She clutched her hands together to keep herself from fidgeting. She was a business owner in her own right. Adelaide Willowby was her equal. She took a deep breath. “I’m Mildred Lowery. I run the new dress shop in town. I’m introducing myself to the local women who might have an interest in my talents.”
Addie cocked an eyebrow then flicked her eyes to the other women. “There appears to be some interest. Crystal, settle Miss Lowery in my office.” She fixed her eyes on Millie again. “I’ll join you in a moment.” She turned and disappeared down the hallway.
The woman with pale hair touched her elbow. “This way, ma’am.”
Minutes later, Adelaide closed her office door on the women tittering over the basket of swatches and sketches. Wrapper gone, her hair was twisted into an elegant bun and fixed with an ebony comb that match the details on her dark blue dress. She sat down in the tufted wingback chair and crossed one leg over the other. Her fingers tapped on the arm. “I appreciate you stopping by, Miss Lowery. The girls will be glad to not have to suffer their own sewing skills anymore.”
Millie fidgeted with her ringless finger. The ring Race gave her six years ago no longer fit. As his ‘sister’ she had no need of it anyway. “I wondered if you or someone else could help me with a personal matter.”
Addie’s gaze continued to rest on Millie, never wavering.
“I need the advice of a woman who knows about men,” she blurted.
The madam’s eyes narrowed. “I want to make one thing very clear. I am not now, nor have I ever been a whore.”
This was not going at all like she’d intended. If she offended this woman, she wouldn’t get the help she sought nor her business. “I didn’t mean to imply as such. I mean, it wouldn’t matter to me if you were. I need advice on how to attract a man.”
“Nor are we in the business of helping young misses find husbands.” Adelaide cut in.
“I already have a husband.” Millie noted the dull band on the madam’s left hand. “You’re a married lady. You can help me.” Adelaide was perfect and poised, she carried herself as she imagined a worldly, sophisticated city lady would.
“I don’t think I can. I have husband troubles of my own.” She glanced pointedly at Millie’s naked finger. “If yours isn’t treating you right, I can’t help you there either.”
“He’s not treating me at all. That’s the problem.”
One of Adelaide’s blonde eyebrows arched. Before she could speak, a short knock sounded on the door and a young woman came in carrying a tea tray.
“Tea, mum.”
“Aoife, what have I told you about the formalities?” Adelaide sighed.
Aoife shrugged. “Mr. Willowby likes it.” She set the tray down on a small table.
“Because it makes him feel more important than he is. This is Mrs. Lowery. She’s opened the dress shop in town. Mrs. Lowery, this is Aoife McCarthy. She’s our cook.”
Aoife nodded at Millie. “I met your ‘usband. ‘e’s a troobled soul, ‘e is.”
Adelaide’s eyebrow twitched again, and she sat back in her seat.
Millie assessed the woman. “Where did you meet Race?” She didn’t like this woman knowing personal things about her husband. She worried Aoife’s Irish lilt would remind him of his first wife. She didn’t need any more obstacles.
Unaware or perhaps unconcerned with her employer’s curiosity and Millie’s suspicions, Aiofe poured two cups of tea and removed the cloth from a plate of cookies. “Behend de church de first time. Inside de second.”
Adelaide groaned. “Sugar cookies again, Aoife? Don’t you know any other recipes?”
Millie took a cookie and bit into it, still studying the strange woman. Crisp on the outside and chewy inside, the cookie melted in her mouth. She would gladly eat them every day without complaint.
“It’s what’s keepin a roof over me ‘ead, isn’t it?” Aoife turned and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“You needn’t worry about Aoife having designs on your husband. She’s recently widowed and left with nothing. She came to live here and cook for us and managed to lose her God as well. I suppose He’s not lost, but His gatekeeper won’t allow her to attend mass, so the results are the same.” She wiped the crumbs off her fingers with a linen. “Now back to your problem, Mrs. Lowery. What is it exactly you need?”
“Please call me Millie. Can I speak to you in confidence?” The cookies and tea seemed to have sweetened Addie’s disposition toward her.
Adelaide laughed. “I’m no priest, but I promise, what you say will go no further.”
Millie took a fortifying sip of tea. “I’ve never been with my husband intimately.”
“I don’t understand. He’s not gentle with you?”
“We don’t share a bed. We’ve been living as brother and sister for the past six years since we married.”
“He’s not actually your brother, is he?” The madam wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Lord, no! He’s a good and honorable man. He married me to save me from an unpleasant and potentially dangerous situation. I was only fourteen, you see. Much too young in his estimation. He wouldn’t leave me with my father, so insisted we live as siblings until a time he could get the marriage annulled.”
“And how long has this been going on?” She took a sip of her tea.
Millie groaned. “Six years. He’s started looking into obtaining an annulment.”
“Easier said than done,” Addie murmured. “The man must be a saint to eschew marital relations for that long. Has he been going elsewhere?”
Millie’s cheeks warmed. “No. He’s been mourning his wife and daughter much of that time.”
Adelaide tapped a finger to her chin. “I see. And you tolerate each other fairly well?”
“I believe Race has affection for me. He fights it out of a misplaced sense of honor. Otherwise, he wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid me. I don’t know what to do to force the issue. I haven’t had a woman I can talk to till moving here.”
“Who else have you spoken with?” Adelaide rose from the chair and crossed to the window.
“Una Barlow and Sarah Holt. I haven’t told them anything, we just met.” Millie blushed. She hadn’t had the same hesitation about sharing her troubles with Adelaide.
Reading her thoughts, Adelaide turned and smiled. “When one deals in the intimate, it makes it easier to broach the subject. If Una could be of any help to you, her husband would not be a frequent visitor to this establishment.” She crossed to a bookshelf. “So, you don’t know anything about what goes on between a man and a woman?”
