Wolf’s Princess (21 page)

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Authors: Maddy Barone

BOOK: Wolf’s Princess
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The mayor sat on a low sofa nearby. “Now, my dear, you aren’t trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“Why, yes, I am.”

He laughed. “Well, it looks like I am unwanted.” He stood up and gave Rose another toothy smile. “I guess I’ll leave you two ladies to do whatever it is ladies do in the afternoon.”

He strolled toward the door and paused to look back as if suddenly reminded of something. “Tell me, my dear Mrs. Wolfe, how is Sky doing with his campaigning concerning the vote on Monday?”

“I really don’t know,” she said honestly. “Sky doesn’t discuss political things with me.”

McGrath smiled condescendingly. “I suppose not,” he said with a chuckle that made Rose want to grind her teeth. “This is not a matter that concerns ladies.”

A vote concerning laws that pertained to women didn’t concern ladies? It took all of Rose’s self-control not to glare at the door he closed behind him. Mrs. McGrath’s gentle voice distracted her. “Do you like tea or do you prefer coffee?”

Rose unclenched her teeth. “Either is fine.”

The mayor’s wife filled a cup with fragrant tea. Naturally, it was genuine black tea, probably grown in Sri Lanka or India. Rose couldn’t imagine the expense of black tea shipped all the way to Omaha. At the den they used herbal tea, made from peppermint, rosehips and other locally grown ingredients. She accepted the cup and inhaled the fragrance with delight.

“I haven’t had a real tea in years. Wherever do you get it?”

“My husband has a habit of getting what he wants.” The older woman tilted her head with a smile Rose couldn’t read. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”

Yes, Rose had noticed that the mayor had the best of everything. A castle for a house, a car, a butler, fresh lobster for supper, and a position of power that he used to obtain the fine things he wanted. She sipped her tea, not sure of how to answer. Mrs. McGrath waited with a patient air of a faded and fragile grande dame for her to answer.

“Yes,” Rose told her teacup. “He’s very lucky.”

Mrs. McGrath gave a gentle lady-like titter. “Lucky. I suppose you might call it luck.”

Rose looked up at the subtle acid notes in the elder lady’s voice. “I don’t—I mean…” She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

Mrs. McGrath stirred sugar into her tea and offered Rose the plate of cookies. “Nothing at all, my dear,” she said vaguely. “How are you settling into Omaha?”

Relieved at the change of topic, Rose took a sugar cookie. As she bit into it, she noticed her hostess watched her eat with one brow elevated. Rose shifted on the chair, wondering if eating the cookie was gauche, or if she’d spilled tea down her front. No, there was no stain on her blouse. She placed the cookie on her saucer, forced the bite down with tea, and rushed to fill the silence.

“I think I’ll like it here.” That was a lie, but a polite one. “Omaha is so interesting. I love the library. I was just there this morning. I’m so happy that books can be checked out. And I went shopping with Tasha. She’s a bus…I mean, uh, she works for Sky. I’m not used to so many stores. It’s very nice,” she finished lamely.

Mrs. McGrath was gracious enough to ignore her nervous babble. “Tasha. Tasha Aker?”

Surprised and relieved, Rose shrugged. She wasn’t sure what Tasha’s last name was. “She’s about five foot eight, with thick dark brown hair, mid-thirties. Do you know her?”

“Certainly I do. My son Ryan was engaged to be married to Tasha Aker.”

Rose blinked and glanced around, but the portraits of the McGraths’ son weren’t in this room. Sky had told her to not speak of Rye Thomas and she had to force words back. “But he died?”

“They broke off their engagement a week before…” The older woman pressed her napkin to her lips with trembling fingers. “It was quite terrible.”

Rose shifted in her seat again, trying not to stare at her hostess’ obvious distress. “What happened?”

Mrs. McGrath placed her teacup in the saucer with exquisite care and set it on the table. She leaned forward and by the intense look on her face, Rose thought this was why she had been invited to visit. Mrs. McGrath wanted to talk about her son. “Fifteen years ago was a terrible time for my family. Actually, it started earlier than that. My daughter Anna was fifteen years old when the former mayor asked my husband for his permission to marry her.”

Rose remembered hearing about that when she was here for supper. It still freaked her out. “That seems a little young,” she said, trying to be both polite and honest.

“That wasn’t as important to my husband as getting ahead politically.” Mrs. McGrath clutched her napkin so tightly her knuckles showed white. “Mayor Belsy did treat her well, I have to admit that. He doted on her. When she became pregnant, he was ecstatic. Ryan, however, was not happy at all. His little sister was one of the people he loved.”

It was none of her business, and Rose knew she had no right to criticize, but she couldn’t help asking. “Did Anna want to marry Mayor Belsy?”

“No, she did not. But her father thought he knew what was best for her. And what he thought was best for her furthered his political career.” Mrs. McGrath looked directly into Rose’s eyes. “Don’t let your husband make those kinds of choices for your children.”

Rose couldn’t imagine Sky doing anything like that, and if he ever tried, she wouldn’t need to stop him. The Pack would do it for her. She wondered if Mrs. McGrath had tried to stop her daughter’s wedding, but she couldn’t ask that. In fact, none of this was any of her business. Why was Mrs. McGrath telling her all this? “No, you can be sure Sky would never do anything like that.”

“No.” The older lady smiled, something in her face sad. “I’m sure Mr. Wolfe wouldn’t sell his daughter for any reason.”

To Rose, ‘Mr. Wolfe’ was Taye, and any man who did the slightest thing to cause Patia the tiniest distress would die. “Was Anna happy? You said her husband doted on her.”

Mrs. McGrath lifted her cup for a delicate sip. “At first, she was frightened. Her husband tried to be kind to her, I’m sure. He was well established and had plenty of money to make her comfortable.” She examined the dregs of tea in her cup with the corners of her mouth drooping sadly. “It takes more than money and a comfortable life to make a marriage work. Maybe if Anna hadn’t become pregnant immediately they would’ve had time to develop a strong marriage. But at sixteen, and with her hormones out of control because of the pregnancy, Anna was an emotional wreck.”

Rose cast an uncomfortable glance at the door. Part of her was swamped with sympathy for the mayor’s wife, and part of her wanted to escape. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Rose set her cup down and wondered if it was too early for her to take her leave.

Her hostess lifted the teapot and poured her another cup. “As I said, my son Ryan loved his baby sister. He and his father had such angry arguments about Anna’s marriage. And then when she died trying to give birth…” The old woman shook her head slowly, pulling a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve. “They had the worst fight of all when Anna was barely cold in her grave.” Tears welled and were blotted away with the handkerchief. “The Women’s Acts were on the verge of being passed. Ryan disapproved of the new laws and he didn’t hesitate to tell his father so. He said that if Timothy had any regard for womanhood, Anna would still be alive.”

Rose took a sip of the tea and looked at her hostess over the rim of the cup. “Did he think that Anna wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t married so young?”

“That’s exactly what he thought. And he was right. Anna was too young to give birth. She bled and bled until she didn’t have enough blood left to survive.”

“That is terrible.” Rose agreed with Ryan completely. It could have happened even if Anna had been twenty-five or thirty, but how horrible for her mother to lose a daughter in such a way at only sixteen. “I just can’t imagine how you must’ve grieved.”

Looking down at her lap, the mayor’s wife whispered, “Losing my daughter was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life. Losing my son only three months later was just as terrible.”

Rose remembered the trader Rye Thomas, his sun-bronzed face under a mop of brown curls. “How did he die?”

The narrow shoulders rose helplessly under the green dress. “He is dead to us. My husband threw him out. Disinherited him. Told him he would be arrested if he ever came back to Omaha.”

Rose bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying she’d seen Rye Thomas and he was alive and well. “You still have his pictures on the wall.”

“Yes. My husband has taken my daughter, my son, and my legs from me, but he can’t take my memories away.”

Her legs? Rose automatically glanced at the green skirt covering the legs in question.

Mrs. McGrath noticed with a twisted smile. “It was an accident. I fell down the stairs a few days after Ryan left.” The gentle voice was faintly shaded with bitter sarcasm. “So unfortunate that I lost my balance and my husband wasn’t able to catch me. I broke my pelvis in three places. My left femur was broken, and my right ankle was shattered.”

Rose flinched. In the space of a few months the woman’s daughter died, her son was thrown out, and then she was horribly injured, and it sounded like she blamed her husband for all of it. Rose didn’t doubt he was responsible.

“That’s terrible. Simply terrible.” Rose rubbed a thumb over one of the amethyst chunks in her bracelet. “Have you heard from Rye at all? I mean, Ryan?”

“Not a word.”

Rose twisted her bracelet, grinding an amethyst into her wrist to control her urge to blurt out that she’d met her son. “How sad.”

“Yes.” There was a long silence until the mayor’s wife sighed. “What a pretty bracelet.”

“Thank you.” Relief made her a little more effusive than normal. “Sky gave it to me a few years ago for my birthday. Or, no, for Christmas. I think.” She giggled nervously, a silly sound she seldom made. “I can’t remember. He always sent me presents for my birthday and at Christmas.”

“He seems like a sweet young man.”

Rose barely kept from snorting. She coughed gently instead. “Yeah, he’s sweet all right.”

“You must love him very much, to have waited for him all these years.”

Like she’d had a choice. “Yes,” she lied.

“That’s so sweet.” Her eyes unfocused. “I loved my husband once. He was quite a handsome man then. I stupidly believed he loved me too. He didn’t, of course. What he really loved was this house, and the power and comfort it gave him. I inherited it from my father, you see. It had been a museum in the Times Before, but Father took it over during the Terrible Times and made it into a veritable fortress. It is elegant and comfortable, but also very secure. That’s the reason Timothy married me, to have a home that was secure, and grand enough to awe the masses. Even at twenty-one he was ambitious.”

“Oh.” Rose tried, but couldn’t find another word to say.

Mrs. McGrath leaned forward to pat Rose’s hand. “You must be ready to leave. I confess I’m a bit tired this afternoon, and in need of a nap. I’ll ring for Davidson to have your man bring your carriage around, shall I?”

That was sudden. “Sure.”

The mayor’s wife rang a hand bell and Mr. Davidson responded at once. In only a few minutes Mayor McGrath came to escort her to her carriage. Rose said polite things to both the McGraths. She was so glad to be leaving that she allowed the mayor to take her hand to place it on his arm to escort her outside. He paused on the steps leading down to the sidewalk to lift her hand to his mouth and kiss it. Rose gritted her teeth and forced a smile. The smile lasted until she felt his tongue touch the back of her hand. She jerked her hand away so violently she almost lost her balance.

The mayor gave a chuckle that struck Rose as an audible leer. As if nothing had happened, he walked her to the carriage. He offered her a steadying hand, and she forced herself to take it while she climbed in. He smiled at her as if he were a fond uncle, said a few polite phrases, and went back into his house.

“Thank God that’s over,” she muttered.

“Ma’am?” said Sal Hudd over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.

“Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Strange. Calling The Limit home seemed right. The carriage had only rolled a yard or so before her hand flew to her wrist. “Oh, no! Stop! I’ve lost my bracelet. It must have fallen off.”

She scrambled down before the carriage came to a complete halt and retraced her steps up the walk to the front door, searching the ground for the gleam of gold or the flash of purple. There. Under the window beside the porch. It must have come loose when that disgusting man kissed her hand.

She walked over the thick, neatly mown lawn to the low shrubs below the window, and stooped to pick up her bracelet. As she paused to examine the clasp, she heard the mayor’s voice coming from the window above.

“So, did she whine about her terrible situation?”

There was none of the condescending near-flirtation in the mayor’s voice, only cold disgust. Rose froze, still crouched beneath the window, not sure if she should move.

Mr. Davidson’s crisp tones came next. “Mrs. McGrath did tell Mrs. Wolfe of the happenings so many years ago.”

“Of course she did,” the mayor drawled sarcastically. “My dear wife never misses a chance for a little sympathy. At least she appeared sane this afternoon. I suppose the young woman fell all over herself to show my wife how she pitied her.”

“Mrs. Wolfe was polite.” The butler sounded matter-of-fact. “However, I did not think she appeared anything but uncomfortable.”

“Did Mrs. Wolfe say anything about her husband’s plans?”

“Nothing, sir.”

The mayor grunted. “That damn rabble-rouser always says that women are equal to men, but he doesn’t tell his wife anything? Either she’s better at holding her tongue than most women, or he doesn’t put his money where his mouth is. Things are getting tense and the blame for it can all be laid at his feet. I should have gotten rid of him years ago.”

“Certainly, sir.” The butler’s voice was cool, as it always was. “You will be dining tonight with Mr. Askup. Will you wear the blue suit or the brown?”

Rose heard the mayor mumble something and when he spoke next his voice was distant, as if he were moving away from the window. “I think the blue. Terry has secured a young lady for entertainment, and the ladies seem to like blue better than brown.”

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