Prince Charming (28 page)

His wife's friend was nervous this morning. Since she kept giving worried glances around the crowded dining room, he assumed she was concerned about the other diners. He tried to put her at ease, first by trying to get her to talk about her family. He realized his mistake the minute her eyes started getting misty. Talking about her parents and her friends back in London obviously upset her. Lucas then turned the topic around to her future in Boston. Victoria became even more agitated.

Someone let out a shrill squeak of laughter across the dining room. Victoria jumped a good foot in reaction, then cast a quick look over her shoulder. She had an intense frown on her face.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

Before Victoria could answer his question, Taylor appeared at the table. Lucas immediately stood up and pulled the chair out for her. She thanked him without looking at him and then sat down.

She kept her gaze downcast but he could still see the faint blush on her cheeks. She was obviously embarrassed about something. He assumed it was because of the way he'd touched her the night before.

She was dressed entirely in black. He didn't care for the color on her and he didn't particularly like the notion that she was deliberately disregarding her grandmother's orders not to wear any colors of mourning.

Taylor's hair was all bound up behind her neck in a knot of some kind. The severe hairstyle made her face all the more flawless. He realized once again how breathtakingly beautiful she was, then found himself glancing around the room to make certain there weren't any male diners staring at her. She belonged to him, damn it all, and he wasn't about to let any other man give her lustful stares.

Lucas realized how ridiculous he was behaving almost immediately. He shook his head over his own contrary behavior and then started barking orders.

“Taylor, eat something. Victoria, tell me what's bothering you.”

His wife insisted she wasn't hungry. She drank a full glass of milk, declared she was quite full, and folded her napkin to prove she was finished. She still wouldn't look at him. Lucas was exasperated with both women. He decided to deal with his wife first. He would find out what was bothering her and then take Victoria on. With that decision in mind, he reached over and covered Taylor's hand with one of his own. In a low voice he commanded her to look at him.

She took her time agreeing with the order. He patiently waited. And when she finally looked at him, he said, “You don't have anything to feel embarrassed about. Nothing much happened last night.”

He was going to add the reminder that they were married, after all, and that a few kisses and a couple of caresses between a husband and wife was certainly nothing to get all worked up over or cause any embarrassment.

He never got the chance to give his logical argument. She gave him an incredulous look, then said, “I wept in front of you. Of course. I'm embarrassed and ashamed,” she added with a nod. The blush intensified. “I promise it won't happen again. I'm usually very disciplined.”

He didn't know what to say to that. He started to argue, then changed his mind. Victoria, he noticed, wasn't looking around the dining room any longer. She had become thoroughly engrossed in their conversation. She was glaring, too, and he seemed to be her target.

He wanted to ask her what the hell was wrong with her. Because of her delicate condition, he softened his question. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you make Taylor weep?”

He let out a sigh. She acted as though she believed he'd insulted his wife.

“No,” he answered. “She was upset about something else.” He decided he'd leave it to Taylor to explain about her grandmother.

“Victoria, have you finished your breakfast?” Taylor asked, trying to change the subject.

Victoria wasn't paying any attention to her friend now. Her attention was fully settled on Lucas. She seemed to be making her mind up about something or other, and just when he was about to get up from the table, she blurted out her request to stay where he was.

“If you knew your wife better, you'd realize she never, ever cries, Mr. Ross.”

“Is that so?”

Victoria nodded. Her voice trembled with nervousness when she added, “She never eats anything for breakfast. She always has a glass of milk. You didn't know that either, did you?”

Although- he wanted to, Lucas didn't dare smile. Victoria was becoming furious on Taylor's behalf. It was apparent she knew quite a bit about Taylor that he did not.

“She lived in a soddie for—”

Taylor cut her off. She wasn't about to let Victoria tell Lucas anything more about her training for the frontier. He'd start asking questions then, and she wasn't prepared to answer any of them.

“The bankers,” she blurted out. “We have to meet Mr. Sherman and Mr. Summers at ten o'clock. Their offices are only a couple of blocks from here. I believe we should walk to the bank, don't you, Lucas?”

He nodded but kept his gaze on Victoria. “She lived in what?” he asked.

Victoria blushed. “Never mind,” she replied. “Taylor, I would like to talk about something rather important if you have a minute now.”

“Yes, of course,” Taylor agreed, relieved the topic was being changed.

“I don't believe I can live in Boston.”

After making the statement, Victoria lowered her gaze to the tabletop.

“All right then.”

Victoria's head snapped up. “You aren't going to argue?”

Taylor smiled at the surprised look on her friend's face. “Of course I won't argue. You know better than anyone else what you can and cannot do, Victoria.”

Her friend felt it necessary to explain. “I've already bumped into old acquaintances,” she whispered.

Lucas heard her. He thought her explanation made about as much sense as Taylor's embarrassment over weeping did. “And meeting old friends is a problem?” he asked.

“Yes,” Victoria and Taylor answered simultaneously.

He gave up trying to understand. He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to our room. Taylor, you're changing your clothes before we go to the bank.”

Lucas didn't give her time to argue. He turned around and left the dining hall. Victoria drew Taylor's attention then.

“Why are you wearing black?”

“In memory of my grandmother,” Taylor answered. “I received a telegram last night. Madam died four days past. It took my uncle Andrew awhile to locate me,” she added.

She'd tried to keep her voice very matter-of-fact, but she wasn't quite able to accomplish the feat. By the time she finished her explanation, she was close to weeping again.

Victoria didn't have any qualms about keeping her emotions under control. Madam would have been appalled by her conduct, Taylor thought, when her friend burst into tears. But she'd like her all the same, because undisciplined as she was, Victoria was extremely loyal to Taylor, and Madam believed loyalty was the second most important quality a person could have. It ranked much higher on her moral ruler than love, and only just an inch or two below the greatest quality of them all. Courage.

Taylor started aching inside. She did her best to hide her feelings, but the effort was fairly overwhelming. The other diners inadvertently helped her regain her composure. Several men and women had noticed Victoria's distress and were giving her curious glances. Taylor found their stares rude and uncivilized. She straightened in her chair, raised one hand, and dramatically waved them back to their own conversations. She added a good frown to ensure their cooperation.

Victoria was mopping the tears away from her face with her napkin. It was a wasted effort, for they just kept on coming.

“‘Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief,'” Victoria quoted from memory in a whisper.

“William?” Taylor asked, though she knew full well who had written down that bit of advice.

“Yes,” Victoria replied. “He was right, too. Plain words are best, and so I'll simply tell you how very sorry I am over your loss. I know Madam was like your mama and your heart must be breaking . . .”

She couldn't go on. She was crying in earnest now. Taylor wasn't at all embarrassed by the scene her friend was making. She was actually humbled by Victoria's reaction. Taylor wasn't unaffected by her words of comfort either, and she had to take several deep breaths in order to get herself under control.

“You are a dear friend,” she whispered once she could trust her voice enough not to break. “I am so fortunate to have found you.”

“And I you,” Victoria replied. Her voice was muffled by the napkin. “‘Everyone can mask a grief but he that has it,'” she added. “I can tell you're hurting.”

Taylor didn't respond for the simple reason that she'd start crying if she did. The possibility was untenable. She wouldn't dare disgrace Madam's memory by breaking such a sacred rule and weeping in public. Taylor thought she'd die first.

“‘To weep is to make less the depth of grief,'” Victoria quoted.

Madam, Taylor thought, wouldn't have agreed with that quote from Shakespeare. She decided to try and lighten the conversation. “And you believe that because your William has written down that dictate, I cannot argue with you?”

Victoria managed a smile. “No, you cannot argue. William is an authority after all.”

“Do you know what I'm going to do?”

“What?”

“I'm going to walk to the nearest bookstore and purchase every single one of William Shakespeare's works. I've read him, of course, but I haven't taken the time to memorize every word the way you have. In a month or two, I promise I'll be able to use your William to my advantage whenever I want you to agree with me.”

Victoria looked thrilled. She obviously didn't understand that Taylor was teasing her. “I shall be happy to lend you my copies,” she said fervently.

Taylor thanked her, then motioned to one of the waiters and ordered a cup of tea for each of them. The dining room had cleared sufficiently for them to have enough privacy to talk.

“Victoria, if you don't wish to live in or near Boston, where would you like to go?”

“With you.” She blurted out her answer and then blushed. “If you'll have me,” she hastily added. “And if Mr. Ross doesn't care.”

“I would love to have your company,” Taylor replied. She stopped then to gather her thoughts.

Victoria misunderstood her hesitation. Her shoulders slumped in dejection. “But you don't think it's a good idea. I understand. A pregnant woman would be a burden to you and—”

Taylor interrupted her. “Do let me finish,” she insisted. “More than anything in the world I would love to have you come with me. You've become like family.”

“But there is a problem all the same?”

Taylor nodded. The waiter appeared with their china setting. He placed the flowered teapot on the table, added two cups and saucers, and then bowed before leaving them alone again.

Taylor poured the tea before continuing. “You cannot make a decision until you know all the facts. You have to understand where I'm going and why. After I've explained—”

“About the babies?” Victoria interrupted with the question.

“Yes,” Taylor answered. “Georganna and Alexandra are my older sister's children. The babies are two and a half years old now. Marian . . . my sister, died just a short while after settling in Boston. The children have been under the care of their father, George. He died a little over a month ago. He didn't have any family to speak of, and so the babies have been watched over by their nanny, Mrs. Bartlesmith.”

“‘When sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions.'”

Taylor nodded agreement. Shakespeare was right about that. Sorrows did come in battalions.

“Will you take the little ones back to England?”

“No,” Taylor answered. “In fact, I want to take them as far away from England as possible. My sister was afraid of our uncle Malcolm. She had good reason to fear him,” she added. “She didn't want her daughters near the vile man, and that was her main reason for moving to Boston. Her husband, George, was from America, and he was in full agreement with her determination.”

“Are you afraid of your uncle?” Victoria asked.

Taylor felt compelled to be completely honest with her friend. “I would be a fool not to be afraid of him. He's a very evil man.”

“Would he harm the babies?”

“Eventually, yes, he would.”

“How?”

Taylor shook her head. “I cannot talk about Malcolm without becoming sick to my stomach. However, now that George is dead and Madam, too, the question of guardianship becomes a worry. Uncle Malcolm would petition the court to put the girls in his care, and I would kill him before I let that happen. The little ones would be safer with Lucifer. I'm praying Malcolm has forgotten all about the babies. We didn't inform him of George's death, and because Madam didn't leave any money for the twins, I'm hopeful he won't make trouble. I'm not going to take any chances though. I'm going to have to disappear, Victoria. Don't you see? Until the babies are old enough to fend for themselves, I'm responsible for them. Marian protected me all those years. Now I must protect her daughters.”

“I fear disappearing will be most difficult,” Victoria said. “The world has grown so small. We have the telegram now and steam vessels that can travel from London to America in less than two weeks. There are trains connecting almost every city, and—”