Scandal on Rincon Hill (8 page)

The simple truth was that I could not remain firm in my life's resolve if I permitted a man to gain power over my life. Sad to say, that is exactly the abysmal state I would find myself in if I were to marry. Under our frequently misguided legal system, a modern-day married woman hardly possessed more rights than those allotted to a child. A husband controlled his wife's finances, had the final say on her choice of reading material, the upbringing of their children, and even which church they attended. I could not allow myself to fall into this wretched position.

As Eddie fidgeted restlessly beside me, I realized I had become lost in my thoughts. Recalling myself to the present, I said, “You remember Eddie Cooper, do you not, Mr. Godfrey?”

He stretched out his hand to the lad, taking him by surprise. After a brief hesitation, Eddie wiped his doughnut-sticky fingers on his pant legs and reached out to return the handshake. The boy smiled broadly at this unaccustomed display of adult recognition, especially coming from a person he held in such awe.

“I certainly do remember the lad,” replied Pierce. “How are you, Eddie?”

“I'm mighty fine, Mr. Godfrey, sir.” The boy stared up at Pierce. “Did you really sail all the way here from Hong Kong?”

“I did, indeed.” With twinkling eyes he went on, “Perhaps You'd enjoy going aboard one of our ships sometime over the Christmas holidays, Eddie. I could give you the grand tour.”

For a moment I feared the lad might burst with excitement. “Yes, sir, Mr. Godfrey,” he gushed. “I'd like that all to pieces!”

With an inward sigh, I realized I could expect no substantive work from the lad after Fanny's doughnuts, and now visions of tall ships sailing the seven seas. Extracting a promise that he would arrive at my office no later than eight o'clock sharp the following morning, I released Eddie from today's lesson.

He was still grinning from ear to ear as he hopped aboard his brougham, and clicked his patient dappled-gray horse toward Market Street to begin his day's work as a cabbie.

“You realize, of course, that he will give me no peace until you've made good on your promise,” I told Pierce, as we watched Eddie's departing carriage.

Pierce laughed. “Thank you for the warning, but I meant what I said. I'll be happy to allow the lad onboard. I haven't forgotten my excitement as a boy when my father and uncle allowed my brother and me to board their ships.” His look grew serious. “Speaking of Leonard, I have to meet with him shortly. Perhaps you would afford me the pleasure of dining with me tomorrow evening? That way we'll have the leisure to catch up on the events of the past few months.”

I experienced a brief panic, then remembered that I had a perfectly valid reason for refusing his invitation. “I'm sorry, but my sister-in-law is holding a dinner party at our house tomorrow night.”

“Tonight then,” he said, seeming not in the least put off by my refusal. “Don't tell me your sister-in-law is holding a dinner party tonight, as well?”

My panic returned, before common sense exerted itself. Surely a casual dinner between friends was perfectly innocent. It did not mean I had to marry the man! And I could not deny that I was eager to hear of his recent adventures in the Far East.

“All right, Mr. Godfrey,” I agreed, trying to ignore my racing heart. “That would be quite pleasant.”

“Excellent. But tell me, why have I suddenly become Mr. Godfrey?”

There was that familiar gleam in his dark eyes again, a look I remembered all too well from when we'd first met some six months ago. Just thinking back to that fateful evening still caused me to shudder. In all fairness, however, I could not allow the spate of murders which followed our initial meeting to influence our current friendship.

“Well?” he persisted, in that tone of voice I still found altogether too smooth and self-assured. “If I didn't know better, Sarah, I'd say that you were frightened of me.”

I felt blood creep up my neck until it warmed my cheeks.
“Don't be ridiculous,” I countered, realizing even as I spoke that my reddened face bespoke the lie. “We are on a public street. It is only decent that we observe proper decorum.”

To my consternation, these simple words caused him to laugh aloud.

“What do you find so amusing?” I demanded, irked and embarrassed by this show of disrespect.

“I apologize,” he said, making an obvious attempt to rein in his laughter. My anger was further stoked when he could manage nothing better than an amused chuckle. “But really, Sarah, that excuse is akin to the pot calling the kettle black. You pay remarkably little attention to decorum when you're defending a client, or out hunting a murderer. Leonard wrote to me in Hong Kong describing your recent adventures battling ghosts and goblins. I found the entire affair intriguing, if difficult to comprehend.”

He referred, of course, to my last case involving a Russian psychic and a series of murders following a séance conducted at San Francisco's Cliff House.

“Your brother was not privy to the particulars of the situation, so he can only report the drivel he read in the newspapers. I assure you, Pierce, those articles fell well short of what actually happened.”

“Finally! you're back to using my given name. That's more like the feisty, determined young woman I have come to admire.”

“you're impossible!” I declared, my anger turning inward as I belatedly realized how easily I had allowed him to bait my temper.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he admitted good-naturedly. “All right, then. Shall I call for you here this evening? Or am I permitted to come to your home?”

I was momentarily taken aback; I had not considered this dilemma when I had accepted his invitation. If he came to the house, Mama was sure to read far too much into a harmless dinner out with a friend. On the other hand, the severely tailored gray suit I had chosen to wear to the office that morning was hardly suitable attire for dining out. I seemed to be left with little choice.

“You may call for me at my home,” I told him, already wondering how I might keep him away from Mama's eager eyes.

As if guessing my thoughts, Pierce said, “Don't worry, I shall assure your mother that we are nothing more than friends.” Again, his midnight-blue eyes twinkled. “Unless you've changed your mind and have reconsidered my proposal of marriage?” Before I could protest that indeed I had not reconsidered, he gave a dry little chuckle that sent goose bumps shivering down my arms. “Until tonight, then, shall we say around seven o'clock?” He bent down his handsome face until his dark eyes filled my vision. “My dear Sarah, I look forward to a most pleasurable evening.”

All I could do was stare at him speechlessly. With a slight bow and an all too knowing smile, he made his way down Sutter Street to where his driver and carriage were waiting.

“So, he's back,” proclaimed a voice from behind me, startling me out of my stupor. “Doesn't he have some ships to waylay in China, or in the West Indies, or wherever he's been for the past few months?”

I turned to find Robert behind me. I wondered how long he had been standing there.

I took in a deep breath of cool morning air, and sought to regain control of my inexplicably wayward emotions.

“Mr. Godfrey has been in Hong Kong opening up a new office for his shipping company, as you well know,” I told him, not hiding my annoyance. “Your repeated quips referring to him as a pirate are rude in the extreme, Robert, not to mention childish.”

“I might say the same thing about you, Sarah. I cannot understand why you continue to be taken in by that scoundrel. Where he's concerned, you behave like a gullible schoolgirl.”

I felt my temper, and embarrassment, rise. This statement fell uncomfortably close to its mark. Even I could not explain why I behaved so irrationally whenever I was in the presence of the dashing shipping mogul.

“Don't be ridiculous,” I told Robert, lowering my eyes as I straightened my pleated skirt. “He's a good friend, and that is all
there is to it. I will never understand why you have taken such an irrational dislike to the man.”

Robert harrumphed. “And I will never understand why your usually acute senses stultify whenever Pierce Godfrey walks into a room.”

I fought down a sharp retort, disconcerted to realize that I had just asked myself this same question. Suddenly I wanted nothing so much as to escape to the privacy of my own rooms, where I could put the aggravating Pierce Godfrey out of my mind.

“Good day, Robert,” I said, indicating my briefcase. “I have a great deal of work to do.”

Without another word, I turned and started up the stairs to my office. I caught a glimpse of Robert's bemused face as he stood below me on the street, watching as I turned the key in the lock and stepped inside.

T
hroughout the day, I found my eyes constantly straying to the timepiece pinned to my shirtwaist, and to thoughts of that evening's dinner engagement with Pierce Godfrey. I should be concentrating on the work Robert had deposited with me that morning. The brief I was attempting to write was tedious in the extreme, but that was no excuse to give it less than my full attention.

It was humbling to admit that my usually rational emotions were in such turmoil. It was even more maddening to realize that Robert had so easily seen through my protestations. Were my feelings so easy to read? I wondered. Was I deluding myself into believing that I was immune to Pierce's considerable charm?

No! I could not credit the notion. Irritably, I pushed up my sleeves and stabbed my pen rather too vigorously into the inkwell, causing a trail of blue spots to dribble across the top of my desk. I blotted them with my handkerchief, then looked over what little I had managed to write over the past hour. Just as I feared, it was complete gibberish. I crumpled up the page and flung it into the wastebasket to join several other failed attempts.

Rising from my desk, I moved to the small back room of my office, where I brewed a cup of strong tea. Carrying it to the
armchair I'd situated in front of the window overlooking Sutter Street, I sat down, determined to examine my muddled emotions.

It was no use, I thought. I could not go on lying to myself like this. It was time to admit that I had found Pierce Godfrey intriguing since our first meeting at his brother's charity dinner on Russian Hill earlier that year. I had to smile. It was no mystery why it had happened—the man was handsome and self-assured enough to turn any woman's head. It just shouldn't have been
my
head. I was supposed to be immune to such girlish flights of fancy!

My attention was caught by a black and white dog rushing headlong into Sutter Street, and nearly being hit by a fishmonger's cart. The startled horse reared onto its hind legs and it required all the driver's strength—and a barrage of swear words—to bring him under control. Oblivious to the commotion it had created, the canine culprit completed its sprint across the street and into the alley that cut between the butcher's shop and Millie Thomas's flower store.

From my perch above the fray, I watched as the drivers caught in the gridlock behind the cart grew angry and strident. It struck me that the congestion below my window provided an apt analogy for my disordered thoughts. Just like the carriages and wagons piled one upon the other on the street, my feelings seemed to be caught in a traffic jam of their own: bunched together, making a great deal of racket, and not one of them getting me anywhere.

It was ironic, really, and not a little humbling. I had long prided myself on my ability to control my emotions, and boldly forge ahead on the path I had chosen for my life. Now, it appeared I was caught on the horns of a dilemma I had never expected to encounter. Sarah Woolson, I told myself wearily, it seems that you are a fallible human being after all!

My mind traveled back to the night several months ago, when Pierce arrived at my house to propose that we marry and travel to Hong Kong together. It was embarrassing to admit that I could still remember how he had kissed me. It had been totally unlike any kiss I had experienced before or since.

Once again, I had to smile. In truth, I had kissed less than half a dozen men in my entire twenty-eight years. Before Pierce, only one man had left any lasting impression on my heart: the handsome and entirely too dashing Benjamin Forest.

Just remembering his name caused my cheeks to burn. Benjamin had been my first love, the man I had never thought, nor intended, to meet. By nineteen, I had already vowed to dedicate my life to the law. If spinsterhood was the price I must pay for achieving this goal, so be it.

This obsession with my future left me woefully unprepared to meet a man like Benjamin. He'd been twenty-two, one of Samuel's university friends, who spent considerable time at our house. Like me, he planned a future as an attorney, and to my delight we shared the same vision of how everyone, women as well as men, poor and rich alike, might one day be entitled to equal representation under the law. My error was in imagining that he would want an idealistic female attorney to take her place at his side.

In hindsight, I understood how he had so effortlessly swept a naïve girl off her feet. Benjamin was charm itself, ever ready to praise my mind, my wit, and, to the delight of my youthful vanity, my beauty. The summer before he left for law school, we spent long hours sharing our hopes and aspirations, even planning where he would eventually establish his San Francisco law practice. Blinded by love—or what I thought was love—I envisioned a fairy-tale future where we would toil side by side in our own law firm, joining our talents to make our city, and perhaps all of California, a better place for its citizens to live.

Benjamin gave me my first kiss, a magical experience for a young girl who had grown up sheltered by a doting father and three older brothers. I had been swept away by emotions I hadn't truly known existed.

Thinking back upon it now, I found it humiliating to admit how close I had come to succumbing completely to Benjamin's well-practiced powers of seduction. If it hadn't been for the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside my room, God only knows what
folly I might have committed. And with a man who I later discovered had recently become betrothed to a young woman prominent in San Francisco society. Even if Benjamin had returned my feelings—which of course he had not—I was forced to admit that he would never have sanctioned my becoming an attorney, much less welcomed me as an equal partner into his law practice.