A Heart Divided (16 page)

“Of course he does. Ask Emma if you don’t believe me.”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Then why hasn’t he told me? Why did he all but push me into your arms? It doesn’t make sense!”

“Love frequently does that to people. Makes them senseless, I mean.” Nick squeezed her hand. “Look, I just thought I’d play the matchmaker and help things along a bit. You know, try to make Cord jealous. Unfortunately, it backfired. Cord thought I was in love with you and gallantly stepped aside. Now we’re all in a fine pickle. I’m so sorry, Sarah.” He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair and hung his head. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

At his downcast expression and utter remorse in his voice, Sarah couldn’t help a smile. “I know you meant well, but there’s no sense pretending to a sham engagement just to force Cord to declare his love for me. He and I have to work this out ourselves. If we can’t, well, it isn’t meant to be. I don’t want a man who’s afraid to let himself love.”

Nick glanced up. “So what will you do?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t a lot of experience at this sort of thing.”

“I’ll help in any way I can. Just don’t give up on Cord.”

His eagerness was disarming, but Sarah knew better than to accept further assistance from Nick. “Thank you, but no thanks. On the offer of help, I mean. And, after what you’ve told me about Cord, I’m far from ready to give up on him.” She rose, then paused. “Our engagement. On second thought, if you don’t mind, I’d like to let everyone think it’s still on for a little while longer. Until I decide what to do . . .”

“Take your time. I’m rather enjoying watching my brother stew in his own juices.”

Sarah shook her head, then grinned. “You’re incorrigible, you know.”

“Yes,” Nick replied with unrepentant glee. “So I’ve been told.”

A week later, the carriage pulled up in front of McPherson’s Mercantile, but the two women inside remained seated.

“I don’t feel right about this,” Sarah finally said. “Spending money on a new dress at a time like this . . .”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about that, child,” Emma was quick to reassure her. “Some fabric for a gown for the fall dance isn’t going to make or break the Wainwrights. Besides, as Nicholas’s fiancée, you’re going to have to have some new clothes sooner or later. This is as good a time as any to start.”

Sarah frowned. “I still don’t feel good about this.”

Emma briskly climbed down from the carriage and tied up the horse. “No more of this, child. Come on. There’s work to do. We’ve got less than two weeks to make you a ball dress.”

Dougal McPherson was busy with several customers, so Emma quickly pulled Sarah behind the counter to where the bolts of fabric were shelved. The selection was limited, especially of the finer cloths, as Dougal couldn’t afford to keep a large inventory, and most people with the time to do so made use of the mail order catalogs. After much discussion, however, Sarah finally settled on an indigo blue velvet with an intricately woven black silk braid to trim it.

“I’ve got a beautiful black shawl you can wear with the gown,” Emma said, warming to her self-appointed task as she led Sarah next to the shoes.

A pair of black kid slippers, the only dress shoes in the store, were easily decided upon, and Sarah was soon standing before a table that contained ladies’ undergarments. With a sinking feeling, she watched Emma hold up a narrow-waisted corset, stiff with bone stays.

“I don’t wear those things,” she began in protest.

“Nonsense.” Emma waved her silent. “These are the height of fashion and a must under an evening dress. We don’t want Ashton’s society maids and matrons looking down on Nick’s future bride, do we?”

The image of Allis’s simpering face smiling up at Cord filled Sarah’s mind. If she could garner even half the interest he seemed to shower on Allis, she’d shackle herself hand and foot. Suddenly, in light of her determination to win over Cord, the corset looked pretty innocuous.

“Whatever you say, Emma,” she said, resolutely nodding her acceptance.

An acquaintance of Emma’s entered the store just then. The housekeeper left Sarah to decide upon a new chemise, underwear, and stiff taffeta petticoat. Sarah idly sorted through the various unmentionables, her glance straying to where Emma stood talking animatedly with a rotund, gray-haired woman. As she casually continued to look around the mercantile, a light tapping gradually intruded into her consciousness.

Sarah turned to the source of the noise. It came from the window directly behind the undergarment table. For an instant she just stared, startled by the face she saw grinning back at her.

It was her brother Caleb.

9

Sarah glanced around the store. Dougal was ensconced behind the counter, settling a customer’s account. Emma was still busily engaged with her friend. Sarah relaxed. No one else had heard the tapping. She looked back out the window.

Caleb was pointing down the building, motioning for her to come. Her gaze followed the direction of his hand and noted a door. With a last, furtive glance to see if anyone was looking her way, she slipped down the narrow hallway to the back door.

“What are you doing in town?” she whispered as she shut the door behind her. “Gabe Cooper’s back. If you’re not careful, you’re sure to get caught!”

Caleb’s answer was a broad grin and outstretched arms. “Now, is that any way to greet a brother you haven’t seen in over a month? Come here, little sister.”

With a low cry, Sarah went to him, her misgivings fading in her joy at seeing her brother again. “Oh, Caleb, I’ve missed you so!” She leaned back to stare up into warm green eyes. “How’re Noah and Papa?”

He frowned. “Noah’s okay, but Papa, well, he hasn’t been doing so good since you and Danny left. It was bad enough when you got caught, and then when Danny joined you . . .”

Caleb shook his head. “Papa’s health seems to be getting worse and worse. And then there are the rages he goes into these days with hardly any cause. When he’s really mad, he starts yelling about how you ran out on him, turned coat to side with the Wainwrights.”

“Did he get my note?”

“The one asking us to return the money? Yes. That set off his worst attack of all. How could you have asked him to do that? How could you hurt him like that?”

Stung by the reproach in her brother’s words, Sarah pulled back.
He really believes it’s all my fault.

For a moment a frustrated anger washed over her; then reason returned. Trying to right an injustice was the real issue here, not her father’s misguided feelings or her righteous indignation.

“He’s wrong about this, Caleb. Surely you can see that.” She grasped her brother’s arms to emphasize her point. “And we all know he’s not been thinking right for a long while. I mean, how is this suddenly my fault?
I’m
the one who he’s abandoned rather than give up that money. And of all of you, only Danny so far has tried to come to my aid. Yet I’ve still managed to find a way to get Papa and you and Noah out of the trouble over the robbery. Cord Wainwright has agreed to drop charges if Papa returns the money. He’ll let Danny and me go. What more can Papa want?”

Anger darkened her brother’s features. “What’s happened to you, Sarah? Has that fancy life at the Wainwrights’ addled your brain? Papa’s got his pride. To return the money would be to admit he’s beaten, that he’s wrong. He did it for us, you know? To make us all proud, so we could hold up our heads again.”

“And since when is stealing something to be proud of?”

At her worst fears come to life, nausea churned in Sarah’s gut. Caleb, her beloved brother, was becoming as stubbornly blind about things as was Papa. The truth behind their father’s silence regarding the money’s return, an unpleasant reality she’d fought against over the past month, slammed home this time with sickening clarity. His pride mattered more to him than his children.

“You’re a Caldwell, Sarah,” Caleb said. “You know the answer as well as I.” He turned to go, tugging on her arm as he did. “No more talk. It’s not safe here.”

She dug in her heels. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home. At least Papa will have one of his children back.”

“No!” Sarah twisted free of his grip. “I-I can’t.”

He halted. “And why not? Sooner or later, we’ll find a way to get Danny free.”

“Because . . . because I’ve already made my decision.” She forced out the words before they strangled her. “Danny and I are staying with the Wainwrights.”

Caleb took a step toward her, his voice gone taut with rage. “You’re doing what?”

“Danny needs a place where he can get good food, good care.” She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. “Be honest, Caleb. You know we can’t give him what he needs, never have. At the Wainwrights’ he has a chance. Try to understand.”

“Oh, I understand all right,” he spat out furiously. “You got a taste of the good life and now we’re not fine enough for you. You sold yourself to them, didn’t you—you little tramp!”

He slapped her. Sarah reeled back from the stinging blow, her hand moving to her cheek. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away.

She wouldn’t cry; she just wouldn’t. Caleb would see it as an admission of guilt. And she wasn’t at fault here. She wasn’t!

“Get out of here,” she cried. “Get away from me!”

“Is that your answer then? Is that what I tell Papa?”

“I don’t care what you tell Papa. He can’t see the truth anymore, and neither can you. Just . . . just go away, Caleb.”

He stared at her in disbelief, then shook his head in disgust. “Have it your way, little sister.”

As she watched him walk away, an impulse to call him back rose to her lips. An impulse she fought with each retreating step, for her choice had already been made. There was no hope for Danny and her if they went back home. As hard as it was to accept, any hope of a future now lay with the Wainwrights.

The Wainwrights . . . their lifelong enemy. Sarah turned and walked back into the mercantile.

Twelve days later, Sarah drew up short, the low rumble of male voices emanating from the parlor the night of Ashton’s fall dance shattering her barely contained resolve. “I-I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.

“And why not, child?” Emma brushed a stray curl back into place on Sarah’s forehead. “You look lovely. Cord and Nicholas’s eyes will pop out of their heads when they see you. And Edmund, well, maybe it’ll finally make him realize what a fine lady you really are.

“Get on with you,” she then urged, giving Sarah a small push forward. “We’ll never get to Ashton if you hide out here in the hall. I, for one, am ready to do some dancing.”

But you don’t understand
, Sarah thought.
Tonight’s the night I’ve decided to confront Cord and make him admit he loves me—or forever give it up as a lost cause. And I don’t know how to do it or what to say. Oh, Emma, I’m so scared!

The words never found voice, however, for Sarah instead gathered up her courage with her skirts and walked into the parlor. Three pair of eyes turned to greet them. In the resultant appreciative hush, the men’s conversation died an ignominious death.

Blessedly, in the embarrassment of the moment, Sarah barely noticed their reaction. Her nervous gaze instead skittered across the room until it found Cord.

Like his father and brother, he was dressed in a loose-fitting suit, single-breasted style, unbuttoned with a black jacquard vest and four-in-hand tie beneath it. The black wool suit cloth only enhanced his dark good looks.

For an instant, Sarah could only stare. Standing there, tall and foreboding, as unapproachable as some stranger, Cord presented a dangerously attractive but daunting appearance.

She wrenched her glance from his, but not before noting the flare of something intense as his gaze boldly raked her. A heavy warmth flooded her. It was all she could do to turn to where Nick sat.

He, too, looked devastatingly handsome in his dark brown suit. A smile of affection touched her lips as she walked over to him, the rustle of her taffeta petticoat beneath the velvet overskirt the only sound in the silent room. She halted before him.

“Please, say something, Nick,” Sarah pleaded, her voice gone husky with her nervousness. “I feel like I’ve grown horns out of the top of my head or something.”

Nick reached up to take her hand. “Forgive my poor manners, Angel. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I was momentarily struck speechless by your beauty.” He turned to his brother. “Don’t you agree, Cord?”

At the sound of his name, Cord jerked himself from his unabashed perusal. His gaze moved to his brother. “Yes. Sarah looks quite lovely,” he managed to choke out.

The dress was elegant, the deep, shimmering blue of the velvet setting off Sarah’s pale coloring to perfection. The off-the-shoulder ruffles and full sleeves only emphasized the warm, shapely throat and slender arms, the trim bodice accented with the ornate black braid and softly flaring skirt drawing his gaze downward in an inexorably sensual flow. Cord knew he was staring far past the point of good taste, but he couldn’t help himself.

Did this woman standing before them have yet another tantalizing aspect to her? Youthful beauty, just embarking on the path to womanhood, he’d thought he could deal with, as well as boyish little wildcat and gently devoted sister and friend. But this . . . this sophisticated, exquisitely bewitching creature . . .

With the greatest of efforts, Cord throttled the dizzying current racing through him. He glanced around to find all eyes riveted in his direction. At the realization of how ludicrous he must appear, standing there gaping at Sarah like some . . . some love-besotted schoolboy, anger swelled. He set down his brandy snifter with a loud clink.

“It’s time we were on our way.”

The brusqueness of his voice seemed to galvanize everyone to action. Emma brought over her and Sarah’s shawls. Cord proceeded to wheel Nick out to the front porch, Sarah following. Behind them, Cord heard his father’s bemused voice.

“What in tarnation’s the matter with Cord? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s mad because the girl looks so good.”

“Hush, Edmund,” Emma whispered. “Just let those two work it out among themselves.”

“Work what out?” came the peevish reply. “What’s going on here anyway? I thought Sarah and Nick—”

“Edmund!”

His voice faded to a gruff rumble.