Authors: Sylvia McDaniel
"What are you looking for?" Connor asked.
"I'm just checking to make sure everything is here."
He glanced down at the first envelope he held and read out loud. "George Montgomery, Literary Editor."
Connor looked up at her, puzzled.
"An editor?
Why would an editor be contacting you?"
Alexandra swallowed convulsively and lied. "He's just someone I know.
An old friend."
Connor handed her the letters, a frown marring his forehead.
Quickly, she stuffed them back into her reticule. Of all the luck, to have Connor pick up the one letter she didn't want him to see.
***
Two weeks later, Connor couldn't help but notice differences in the appearance of River Bend. Every day he seemed to find something changed in his home. Room by room, Alexandra had the house servants scouring away the dust, rearranging the furniture, replacing
wornout
rugs with newer ones Alexandra found stowed away in the attic. The house was cleaner than it had been in years.
In the afternoon, Alexandra and Suzanne spent time going over the refinements a young lady must learn. And so far he'd had no complaints from Suzanne. The only one in the house who seemed the slightest bit disgruntled with the current arrangement was himself.
He was no closer to seducing his wife.
To say it was frustrating to sit across from his beautiful bride each night, aching to thread his fingers through her mahogany curls while his lips tasted her silky
skin,
was an understatement. But sooner or later he knew she would succumb to him, and the idea of her forfeiting her heart left him feeling excited and hot all at the same time.
He had almost forgotten about the letter she'd received from George Montgomery when a package arrived with the same handwriting, the same name on the outside of the box.
Connor picked up the lightweight parcel and shook it. It didn't rattle; it didn't smell. He was tempted not to give her the package, but his conscience warned him she wouldn't take his intervention kindly.
Who was this man that sent his wife letters and gifts?
His imagination conjured up images of the man she had supposedly committed adultery with.
It was tempting to contact William to see if he knew the man's name, but his friend had been called out of town before the wedding and had not yet returned. Even now, William did not know they were married. As soon as he returned, Connor was going to pump every last bit of information he could wring from his friend.
The dinner bell rang, jerking Connor out of his musings. He picked up the package, the box feeling cold against his skin, and carried it downstairs.
All through the meal, Suzanne was her usual chipper self, telling them about the nest of bluebirds she'd found that morning in the garden. Connor only half listened, his mind on what George Montgomery looked like, what an editor did for a living.
"Brother, are you listening to me?" Suzanne asked, interrupting his thoughts of Alexandra and her mysterious man.
"I'm sorry. I guess my mind wandered," he replied, startled.
"Alexandra is going to host a tea for me. She thinks it's time for me to make a small step into society."
Connor raised his eyebrows at Alexandra. "Do you think she's ready?"
Alexandra smiled at his sister. "Suzanne will do fine. She knows how a lady behaves."
"I have to admit that since you've come, the pesky child seems to have gone into hiding." Connor glanced at his sister, his words teasing. "But I can't help but wonder when the little imp is going to return."
Suzanne rolled her eyes. "Since you quit hiring those awful governesses and married Alexandra, there's been little need to be a pest."
Taking his napkin, he dabbed at the corner of his mouth, trying to hide his smile. Just as he suspected, Suzanne had deliberately run off those women.
"So when is the big day for your first social engagement?" he asked.
"Two weeks from today. That will give us time to write out the invitations."
Connor cleared his throat. "Should I ask how much this is going to cost me?"
Queen Anne had been a gift that had set him back substantially, and until the crops came in or Alexandra became pregnant, there were very few extras they could afford.
But Alexandra had no idea of his financial situation and he was not about to inform her.
He watched as she shrugged.
"Very little.
The food will be the biggest cost."
"Good," he said with a relief. Then he quickly added, "I wanted to know if you needed any cash."
She stared at him curiously, and he bent his head back to his dinner, hoping her suspicions had not been aroused.
They finished eating and the servants cleared the table while they sipped their coffee. When all the china had been cleared, he was unable to contain his curiosity any longer. Connor produced the package and handed the box to Alexandra.
"This came for you today."
She glanced at him, a surprised look on her face. "Thank you."
Holding onto the box, she turned it over in her hands, staring inquisitively at the return address.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Connor asked.
"Later."
Frustrated, Connor scooted his chair away from the table, the scrape of wood against wood like a screech of anger as he stood. "Excuse us, Suzanne."
"Of course," she said. She put down her napkin and pushed back her chair. With a furtive glance at her brother, she hurried from the room.
"I ignored the letter you received from this man, expecting you to tell me who he was, but you never spoke a word." He took a deep breath, trying to control the surge of anger, knowing he was being irrational, but past caring. "Now you're receiving packages from an admirer and you refuse to tell me who he is."
"George is not an admirer," she replied, a bored expression on her face.
"How am I
suppose
to know that?"
"My word," she said, staring at him."You seem rather upset about this. Why? We both know that our marriage is nothing but a sham."
Her words caused his anger to flare with renewed energy. He knew he was being completely illogical, but he couldn't seem to stop the angry, jealous feelings that held him in their grip. Images of Alexandra and some mysterious man preoccupied him to the point of distraction. "You, Alexandra, are the only reason our marriage is a farce."
She glanced at him, a surprised expression on her face. "We both know you didn't marry me because you loved me." She took a deep breath. "You married me because you ripped my dress. You married me because of your sister. You have no right to pry into my business."
Connor's hands were clenched by his side as he strode across the room to stand beside her. He leaned close. "As your husband, I have every right. And after your last attempt at marriage, I should have even more rights."
Alexandra stiffened. Her green eyes flashed like cold crystals. Slowly she stood and faced him. "Now I understand. Since I'm not occupying your bed, I must be letting some other man into mine. The adulteress must be having sex with someone."
"No!" he said too quickly. "That's not what I was thinking."
But he knew the words were a lie. It was exactly what he'd been thinking. He groaned inwardly, knowing he was acting like a fool, a sense of blind jealousy driving him onward, toward destruction.
"Then why, Connor, are you so suspicious of one small box? Are you afraid I'm going to cuckold you like I supposedly did Gordon?"
Damn! What could he say? He didn't quite believe she was capable of adultery, but he couldn't quite trust her either.
Alexandra picked up a knife that had been left on the table and ripped open the box. She pulled away the packing material to pull out an exquisite pen and inkwell set.
She took out a card. "Congratulations on your recent marriage.
Your friend, George."
She glanced up from the card, and her emerald eyes blazed at Connor. "Just what a man sends his mistress. A pen and ink set."
She picked up the box and hurried from the room, her skirts rustling with a precise swish.
Connor felt ten times a fool. He still didn't know what significance George had for Alexandra, but whatever progress he'd made in courting his wife had just been ripped away by one small box and his damn ego.
***
Tension seemed to ooze from the cracks of the house. Alexandra could not believe that Connor was so suspicious of her package from George, her editor, of all people. His actions last night were those she would expect from a husband who cared, in a marriage that mattered. Theirs was a marriage of convenience and he had no reason to play the jealous husband.
The whole episode had been quite maddening. Would no one ever believe she was something other than a sex starved woman looking for her next victim?
Yet life with Connor was different from her experience with Gordon, and had, in fact, been quite pleasant, until she'd realized he thought her capable of such disloyalty.
No matter what the circumstances of their marriage, Connor had no right to think of her as being unfaithful. She'd done absolutely nothing to make him think that there were any men in her life. And she certainly didn't deserve the label of adulteress from her past.
She clenched her fists,
then
put her head in her hands. Would she never live down that awful condemnation? Would the past never leave her alone?
People thought the worst of her, yet she was an innocent victim of a sick man's manipulation. For some reason she wanted Connor to think the best of her.
Though why his opinion mattered she didn't know.
For just a brief moment, she'd let herself be lulled into a false sense of security. But after last night, she couldn't make that slip again. The book had been published, and she would soon earn enough money to move away and leave Connor behind.
Until then, maybe she should write George and tell him no more letters, no more gifts. Yet his notes to her were filled with news about
Hester's Revenge
. The book was on the shelves and seemed to be causing quite a stir in New York. They were filling orders at a rapid pace and he was asking when he could expect her second manuscript.
The second book was much harder to write. The banker in the story, Gordy
Thornsbee
, kept a mistress and was quite involved in sexual parlor games. While writing the first book had seemed to cleanse her soul, the second book delved much deeper into her secret life with the perverted banker. A life she found difficult to reveal.
She sighed. At least helping Suzanne had been a pleasure. The girl was bright and her innocence of the world was refreshing, reminding Alexandra painfully of herself at that age.
Oh, if only she could go back and start over. She'd never have married Gordon even if it meant defying her father. Nothing would change the fact that she was a soiled woman. She only hoped she could help Suzanne and not hinder the young woman.
The details for the tea party had been all arranged. The invitations had gone out. Still, Alexandra worried that no one would attend because of her reputation.
All in all, her weeks at River Bend had not been bad. In fact, there was
a contentment
about her life that had been missing before. Helping Suzanne was a satisfying accomplishment, and her second book was slowly coming along. Only Connor seemed to be a problem. And even he was more of a pleasant nuisance, since she actually enjoyed his smiling face, teasing laughter, and verbal
sparing
.
Or at least she had until the package from George.
Men were such fools. Couldn't Connor see past the gossip, the rumors? Couldn't he see that if you looked closely, she wasn't the type of woman to commit adultery? Why couldn't he see the woman inside, the woman so badly hurt by fools such as
he
?
***
Connor rode through the streets of Charleston. He had come hoping to find that William had returned from New York and that somehow the dear fellow could give him more information about his wife. Or at least tell him where to find the details.
The words "Do you think I could commit adultery?" kept echoing over and over in his mind.
His answer fluctuated from moment to moment. One minute he was certain she could never do such a deed. The next he was unsure and wondering what type of person she had been five years ago. Something had obviously caused the breakup of her marriage. A man in today's society was free to keep as many mistresses as he wanted. But a woman was to remain pure, innocent.
Connor tied his horse outside William's law office. A young man named Scott O'Brian, William's secretary, greeted him at the door. "Good day, sir."
"Good day. Has William returned from New York?"
"No, sir.
He's helping his father with a case and is not expected back for at least two weeks."
Connor cursed. "Tell him to contact me as soon as he returns."
"Will do, sir."