Heart of the Ocean (15 page)

She let him continue uninterrupted. She wanted to reach out
to him, embrace him, but she didn’t dare—for a number of reasons.

“My mother had the world against her. Even her parents acted
like strangers, and they let her give birth alone and afraid. She waited years
for my father to return, only to realize that he had betrayed her.” His head lowered
as he exhaled.

Eliza knew all of this, but she didn’t want to tell him so. She
didn’t know what to think about Jon Porter now; she’d never seen him so
vulnerable. So sorrowful. She caught a glimpse of the lonely boy he must have
been in his youth.

Without thinking of what she was doing, she touched his
cheek. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away, as she ran her fingers along his face
then down his neck, stopping at his shoulder. “Jon,” she whispered, “you can’t
change the past.”

His bloodshot eyes seemed to burn through hers. He brought
his hand to her neck and lightly touched the brutal markings. Eliza bit her
lip, suppressing a gasp as his fingers brushed her skin, but she didn’t move
away. His touch was both painful and exhilarating at the same time. She closed
her eyes, inhaling his nearness.

Then she felt his lips on hers, soft at first, hesitant. She
couldn’t say she was surprised that he’d kissed her—there had always been
something tugging them together—but still, she felt like she was in a dream,
that this wasn’t really happening.
Couldn’t
be happening.

Yet, it definitely was. As she ran her hands up his chest
and behind his neck, kissing him in return, his hesitancy ended. She didn’t
know where she found her boldness, but right then, all she knew was that she
wanted him closer. She didn’t dare open her eyes, afraid Jon would snap out of
whatever trance caused him to touch her, and the dream would end.

His hand moved along her jawline, tracing its way to her
hair. His kisses were deeper now, possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough. The
warmth between them turned hot, spreading to every part of her body. He pulled
her upward until they were standing together, and she was fully in his arms.
Every curve of hers seemed to fit perfectly against the length of his body.

“Eliza,” he whispered, kissing her neck, the hollow at her
throat, and then his mouth was back to hers. Her lips parted, and she welcomed them
eagerly. It was as if she was a different person, not herself, but one with
Jon, in another existence that was theirs alone.

Then as suddenly as the kiss had begun, it ended.

Jon released her and took a step away, his breathing ragged.
“I’m sorry,” he said, running his hands through his hair. But the way he was
staring at her said he was anything but sorry. “I’d better stick to letter
writing from now on.”

“Jon—” She didn’t want him to be sorry—but what had this
meant? He was engaged, after all. What had they done?

He leaned toward her and brushed a stray tendril from her
cheek. “Your face has haunted my dreams, Eliza,” he said softly. Then he dropped
his hand, as if he’d touched something hot.

Eliza lifted her face to his, wanting to kiss him again,
wanting to hold him and not let go. His eyes searched her face, but sorrow had
crept into them. He closed his eyes, exhaling. And at that moment, Eliza knew
he was saying good-bye.

“But I don’t believe in dreams,” he said. “Forgive me. I’ve
taken advantage of you, and I will not do so again.”

Tears welled in her eyes; she turned away, not wanting to
see him leave. She heard the library door open and shut softly. And then he was
gone.

The following morning, Jon canceled all his appointments and
sent a note to Apryl, inviting her to the matinee. He planned to spend the day
with her, and hopefully, erase the memory of the previous evening. Maybe last
night’s after-dinner sherry had affected him more than he’d realized. But
today, sitting in his library, Jon knew that alcohol was not responsible for
his behavior with Eliza. In fact, he would like nothing better than to repeat
it. And he believed she felt the same way.

Jon slammed his fist on the desk.
Damn her. Damn me.
Pressing
his fingers against his temples, he tried to massage her out of his mind. Maybe
he should move to England. Put an ocean between them. He opened his eyes and
stared straight ahead. That was the answer. He and Apryl could elope and
honeymoon in Europe. Eliza would meet another man, and eventually everyone
would be happy. No promises would be broken, no scandals would arise, and no
political career blackened.

He would not be like his father, abandoning the woman he’d
committed himself to.

He spent the rest of the morning taking care of
correspondence. By noon, he was ready to leave and instructed Richards to
prepare the carriage. As an extra touch, he brought wine and flowers. Arriving
at the Maughans, he was surprised to see another carriage parked in front of
their home—a sleek burgundy one—belonging to one Thomas Beesley.

Jon was led into the hall, and he insisted on waiting there.
Merry voices floated from the drawing room, but he resisted the urge to
inspect. Soon, Thomas, Apryl, and her parents appeared.

“Why, Jon, you’ve arrived.” Apryl crossed over and kissed
his cheek. “Thomas was just telling us that he has enlisted your help in a
business matter concerning Mr. Robinson.”

Jon shot a look at Thomas, who met his gaze smoothly. “We
don’t have the particulars worked out, but I’m sure the joint venture will be
more than successful.”

 “If I know Mr. Beesley,” Mr. Maughan said, patting Jon on
the back, “You’ll be generously compensated.”

Jon kept his gaze on Thomas. “I’ve no doubt about that,
sir.”

“Well, then, it’s settled,” Apryl said brightly, then her
face drew into a pout. “I asked Thomas if he would like to accompany us to the
theater, but he said he didn’t want to intrude.”

Thomas smiled boldly at Jon, gallantly spreading his arms.
“I’m a man who knows my place.”

Everyone laughed except Jon.

Even after Apryl and Jon were seated in the carriage, Jon
was still scowling.

“Oh, don’t be so sour,” Apryl said.

He turned to her. “I thought you weren’t going to have
anything more to do with that man.”

Apryl’s eyes widened. “He stopped over this morning to return
something my mother left at his estate. When he started talking about doing
business with you, I thought that all ill feelings had passed between you two,
so there was no harm in keeping my friendship with him.”

Jon didn’t answer. On one hand, he couldn’t stand Apryl’s
association with Thomas. On the other, if Apryl believed that Jon wanted to
work for Thomas, it might make things easier between them. Apryl seemed to
revere Thomas, and Jon didn’t want that to come between them.

“Perhaps I’ve been too quick to judge,” he said.

Apryl leaned over to kiss him. Jon met her lips, noticing
the lack of warmth in her touch, as if their affection had become a formality.

Nothing about kissing Eliza the night before had been cold
or remote, but he forced himself to clear her from his mind. “Let’s make a
toast to a day of nothing but frivolity.”  He brought out the wine and two
flutes. Apryl giggled.

“My lady,” he said nobly and poured a glass. Then the
carriage hit a bump, and a few drops splashed across Apryl’s chest.

She burst out laughing. “How am I going to explain already smelling
like wine to my mother?”

Jon joined her laughter and realized he’d gone several
seconds without thinking about Eliza.

Soon they arrived at the theater, which was already crowded.
It seemed that everyone decided to see
Henry IV
that afternoon at the
Bowery. Jon and Apryl greeted a few friends before they found their seats in
the balcony. Moments later, excited chatter rose around them. Everyone was
looking at the couple entering the main doors: President Martin Van Buren, his
son Abraham, and daughter-in-law, Angelica.

Jon rose in respect and bowed as the presidential party
passed their balcony entrance. President Van Buren nodded, and both Abraham and
his wife smiled. When they had moved on, Apryl touched Jon’s arm. “Did you see
that? I think he recognized you.”

“I don’t think so, my dear,” he said, amused with Apryl. “I
met him only briefly a year ago.”

“You have something about you that draws people,” Apryl
said, her eyes shining.

He chuckled. “You’re being over generous.”

“Jon, I’m serious. They say the president’s daughter-in-law
now presides as the lady of the White House ever since his wife passed.”

“Perhaps that’s best.”

They returned to their seats, and Apryl scanned the crowd
beneath them, intermittently pointing out an acquaintance. Jon found himself
nodding but not really listening.

“How odd,” Apryl said rather loudly.

Jon glanced at her. “What is it?”

“Look there.” She tilted her head toward the audience below.
“Third row.”

He saw Thomas Beesley squeezing his way through an aisle. A
young woman, obviously not his sister, led the way. Soon they were settled,
talking animatedly.

Apryl sniffed. “Well, he could at least have told me that he
declined my invitation because he was already coming.”

Jon looked sharply at Apryl, who continued to gaze at the
lively couple. “It’s none of our business.”

“You’re right. I don’t know why I let it bother me.” She
tore her eyes away from the couple and focused on the rising curtain. The music
started, quelling all audience conversation.

Each time Jon stole a glance at Apryl, he saw her glumly
watching Thomas. Jon’s neck grew hot beneath his collar. Thomas Beesley had
probably planned this very incident to cause Apryl to grow envious. But why
should Apryl be jealous, unless she had feelings for Thomas? That’s what
bothered Jon the most.

During the intermission, Jon remained in his seat. When Apryl
left for the powder room, he found himself watching Thomas. To Jon’s surprise,
he saw Apryl approaching him. It appeared as if introductions were made, and
then Apryl pointed to her seat in the balcony. Jon looked the other way
to avoid being caught spying.

Moments later when Apryl returned, she was breathless with
two bright spots on her cheeks. “I happened to see Thomas. He introduced me to
his companion.”

“Oh?”

“The woman is his next-door neighbor, and her escort became
ill at the last minute. That’s how Thomas happened to come with her.”

Jon looked at Apryl. “And did he apologize for turning you
down?”

“Most profusely,” she said, smiling. “It’s not like I care
who he’s courting; I just don’t want him to have another awful experience like
he did with Eliza Robinson.”

He bit back a retort. “We only know one side of that story.”

“You can’t be taking her side.” Apryl arched her brow.

“The people who gossip about her don’t even know her.” Jon
glanced away, knowing he’d probably said too much. “Innocent until proven
guilty.”

Apryl scoffed. “One would think you knew her, Jon.”

Jon didn’t reply. He stared straight ahead, waiting for the
next act to begin. He hadn’t intended to argue with Apryl. It was only that he
hated to hear Eliza being criticized by those who didn’t even know her.

After the play ended, Apryl and Jon left together silently.
Once outside, they greeted Thomas as if there had never been contention between
them.

“Mr. Porter?” a man called out.

Jon turned and found Mr. and Mrs. Robinson standing before
him. Behind them stood Eliza. She wore a large hat with a veil that concealed
her eyes. The lace at her neckline was ruffled, obscuring any signs of
discoloration on her neck.

“Good afternoon.” Jon hadn’t expected to see Eliza so soon .
. . or ever again. His collar felt too tight, and he needed a good dose of cold
air.

Apryl linked her arm through his, drawing close to him.

“Let me introduce Apryl Maughan,” he said, recovering
somewhat of his senses. “Apryl, this is Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and—”

“Our daughter, Eliza,” Mr. Robinson interjected.

Jon was surprised that Apryl didn’t faint on the spot. She
put on her best smile and said in a honeyed voice, “Pleasure to meet you.” She
pressed against Jon’s side, as if making it clear to Eliza that they were
engaged. Which was ridiculous, because of course they were engaged, and Eliza
knew it as well as anyone.

“It’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I know your mother
through the social engagements.”

“I’ll tell her we met you then.” Apryl looked past the woman
and openly appraised Eliza.

Jon cringed. He would hear about Apryl’s opinion of Eliza
soon enough. For now, he wanted to put needed distance between himself and
Eliza. “Nice to see you again,” Jon said as they left.

Once inside the carriage, Apryl wasted no time in delivering
her pronouncement. “What a coincidence! She was prettier than I expected, but I
couldn’t exactly tell because of her veil. It’s no wonder Thomas fell in love
with her, but her personality was quite unremarkable. She hardly spoke a word.
I’d think Thomas wouldn’t have been happy with that for long. He needs someone
who can equal him in conversation, keep him interested.” She paused for only a
second. “I wonder if Thomas saw her.”

“I’m sure they would greet each other like civilized
people,” he said in a tight voice.

Apryl stared out the window for a few moments. “She was a
dainty thing,” she said. “Not a good match for a robust man such as Thomas.”

Agreed
, Jon thought.

“I wish I’d gotten a better look at her, but I could tell
she has an innocent-type beauty. She’s surely used to being pampered.”

“Pampered? How could you tell?” he asked.

She jabbed him in the ribs. “Oh, really, Jon. You say the
funniest things sometimes. Did you not notice that porcelain doll skin and
perfectly styled hair? She obviously has a half-dozen maids and spends every
moment indoors with them at her beck and call.”

“I didn’t notice.” He
had
noticed—particularly that
she looked pale. Was it too early for her to be in public? Was she well?

“I wonder why she was dressed like an old maid,” she said.

“She was nearly strangled to death, Apryl,” Jon said. “The
bruises on her neck are still visible.”

“Oh?” She looked at him. “How do you know that?”

“I read the papers and  . . . natural assumption, I suppose.”

“I do feel sorry for her in that regard,” Apryl said.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. When the carriage
pulled to a stop in front of Apryl’s house, she invited him to join her parents
for dinner. Jon agreed and followed her inside.

Soon they were seated at the dinner table, steaming pumpkin soup
before them. Apryl wasted no time in relaying the details about meeting Eliza
at the theater. Mr. and Mrs. Maughan let their soup grow cold as they listened
with great interest to Apryl’s tale. When Apryl finished, she turned to Jon.
“Tell us what she’s really like beneath that awful veil.”

Jon reluctantly set his spoon down, searching for words. He
couldn’t tell them about the way her hair fell onto her cheeks in silky strands.
How it was the first time he’d seen her with such tight curls, because her hair
had been wavy in Maybrook. Nor could he talk about the way she had stroked his
cheek in his moment of weakness. He couldn’t reveal how supple and inviting her
lips were or the way she responded to his kiss as if there was no one else she
desired but him. Or how torturous it was to meet her in public and not be able
to talk to her or ask her how she was doing.

“She’s quiet, but headstrong,” he finally said.

“She’d have to be headstrong to turn down Thomas Beesley,”
Mrs. Maughan said.

Everyone around the table nodded in unison.

“Speaking of Thomas,” Mr. Maughan said, “he’s invited us to
meet at his house for cocktails before the masquerade ball.”

Although Jon didn’t care for the topic of Thomas Beesley, he
was grateful that the subject had left Eliza.

After dinner, Jon followed Mr. Maughan into the library.
Cigars were lit and brandy poured. Wasting no time, Mr. Maughan said, “Tell me
about the business between you and Thomas Beesley.”

“I can’t rightly say,” Jon said.

“Client confidentiality?”

“Not exactly. We haven’t gone over any specifics yet. I’m
sure we’ll meet soon to create an outline.”

Mr. Maughan nodded and took a drag on his cigar. “How are
things going with your father’s estate?”

“Too slowly,” Jon said, then, feeling it was the perfect
opportunity, he added, “unfortunately there are some roadblocks I hadn’t
counted on.”

Mr. Maughan leaned closer. “Such as?”

“Apparently I have a half-sister who wants a share of the
estate,” Jon said. Doughty had assured him there were no concerns, but he
wanted to see Mr. Maughan’s reaction. “I didn’t know my father had married and
had another family until I received notice in the will.”

The man gave a little start, looking as if he were trying to
keep his reactions under control. “I thought it was all left to you.”

Just the reaction that Jon expected. “It was, but according
to English law, wills can be contested by family members with probable claim.”

Mr. Maughan sniffed, his mouth working against the cigar.
“The property is rightfully yours, being his eldest and only son.”