Authors: Rachel Cartwright
Bret turned back from the street and tipped his hat to Gabrielle to get her attention. She knew exactly what that meant. Damn him. I don’t want to discuss business on the steps of a church! And what does he think I’ll say after being embarrassed like that?
Timothy touched her arm. “Gabrielle, the driver is waiting.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward her father standing by the surrey. Gabrielle paused before gathering her skirt and taking the first step.
Her father held out his hand. “What is it my dear?”
“It was so stuffy in there. I need to clear my head. I’d like to take a stroll on the boardwalk.”
Timothy smoothed back his hair with his palm. “Certainly. With your father’s permission I’d like to—”
Gabrielle pressed down her skirt with her hands. “No, Tim. Thank you. I’d like to be alone. I’ll take a cab home later.” She hurried away from the bewildered men and disappeared into the bustling weekend crowd on the sidewalk.
Gabrielle strolled along the boardwalk, taking easy, sure steps along the planks. She was aware that there was just enough sway in her walk under the rustling of her sheer, black muslin skirt and petticoat to make every passing gentleman smile and tip his hat, even if it meant risking the scowl of his shrew wife.
Let Miss Armstrong have him. She would choose from her stable of gentlemen suitors and be done with it once and for all.
Gabrielle stopped a short distance from a boardwalk vendor selling fresh, hot cherry cobbler by the slice from his pushcart. The sweet aroma of the dessert wet her lips for a moment. Another woman—tall with substantial girth and a Northern tourist by the sound of her—was busy ordering her second piece while her shorter, gaunt husband paid the vendor.
Gabrielle was so fortunate that she didn’t have to worry like so many other women. She touched one side of her slender waist for a moment. It was discipline that kept her worry free. She inhaled, filling the fabric of her petticoat with her bosom.
“I don’t know which would be sweeter,” a familiar voice chuckled behind her. “A piece of that cherry pie or—”
“Don’t you say another word Bret McGowan.” Gabrielle whirled around. “What were you doing? Stalking me like a common pickpocket? Or are you that cloaked maniac who has been assaulting young, unfortunate women at night?”
Bret tipped his hat in greeting. “I’ve read about that despicable animal and I hope the police shoot him on site but until then I’m certain your treasures will be forever safe, my dear. There isn’t a man strong enough, nor stupid enough in this town to try and steal anything from you.”
In the silence that followed, Gabrielle felt the blush rising in her cheeks. She stared into Bret’s penetrating eyes as though waiting for him to break the quiet. Her lips parted, still, she was almost breathless.
Pressing them together, she took a few steps toward him and stopped. “Of that, I have no doubt, Mr. McGowan, and judging by the way that Armstrong woman cozied herself up against you in the pew, I should think you prefer women who don’t even have the moral decency to restrain themselves in public . . . and in a church, for God’s sake.”
Bret slapped the thigh of his trousers and laughed. “Gabrielle, always so quick to damn me. You even accuse me of being a perverted maniac when I was only helping one of the Lord’s lost lambs to join the flock. The hymns were unfamiliar to her. I was merely showing her the proper—”
Gabrielle wagged her finger at him. “Oh, I know very well what you wanted to show her, and properly too. Such an unselfish and compassionate Christian man you are, Bret McGowan.” She stroked back a loose curl of her dark hair from her forehead. “And I’m sure that’s what all your other ladies with lost souls would say about you.”
Bret removed his hat and grinned. “Can’t I do anything to reconcile the past between us, Gabrielle?” He exhaled his frustration and looked down at his shoes. “Or will I be forever the object of your ridicule and scorn?”
Gabrielle strode across the width of the boardwalk until she was only a few inches from his face. She looked up into his warm, water blue eyes, wishing she could swim in them forever, until a sudden chill from the surrounding icy whites made her shiver. She took a step back and raised her shoulders. “When will you start acting like a responsible man?”
“I thought I was the very model of propriety when I paid you and Cade a visit.” Bret rubbed his chin. “Should I take it as a favorable sign that you didn’t return my prospectus?”
She poked the sprig of rose geranium in the buttonhole of his Sunday suit. “You toy and play with women’s feelings. Don’t you ever think about finally settling down?”
Bret opened his arms wide. “But I am settled, Gabrielle, and Galveston has her favorite son back for good. My entire future depends on the earth she stands on.”
Gabrielle folded her arms lightly across her bosom. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. What about children?” She lowered her arms and took a step closer to him. “After all the terrible things that . . . that happened to your family, children could bring such happiness.”
She let a tender smile grace her lips. “When you have such joy to look forward to in the future, the past will—”
“Will what, Gabrielle?” Bret’s smile fell into a hard straight line. “Disappear?” He pushed his hat down on his head. “You think a sweet, cheerful wife can give me one magic kiss and make it all go away?” He brushed off the lapels of his suit. “Or that by being a father it could replace the murder of my own?”
Gabrielle rushed forward and took hold of the sleeve of his suit jacket. “You were a child, Bret, how could you have stopped anything that—”
He turned his face away from her and looked out toward the water.
Gabrielle choked back a cry. “Whatever happened, Bret, it wasn’t your fault.”
“The words sound so comforting when you say them, Gabrielle. You make me want to believe them.” He turned back to face her. “Almost.”
She reached out and gently touched his cheek, yet was afraid to say another word to him.
Bret lowered his eyes. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this kind of rude behavior.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his sweaty forehead. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.”
He cast his heavy gaze down at the boardwalk. “I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind about what we discussed.”
Gabrielle shook her head. “No. I didn’t say that, it’s only . . . you laugh and carry on like you’re the most carefree man in the world, but in your eyes you’re trapped by something, haunted by it.” She stroked his cheek again. “I know, I’ve always known.”
Bret lightly pushed her hand away from his face. “You know . . . nothing.” He stared at her for a few moments. Bret coughed and covered his mouth. He turned and hurried down the boardwalk in the opposite direction.
Gabrielle watched Bret weave his way through the strolling couples and families until she lost sight of him behind the happy people enjoying a sunny day at the beach. She wiped the warm tear running down her cheek and turned back for home.
CHAPTER 14
Monday, September 3
Caden rose from his chair in the study and paced back and forth in front of his desk. Since discussing the next step of his plan with Rebecca, he preferred the solitude of his private chambers or the company of his trusted man, Edward.
He needed to consider all options and possibilities. Edward’s private sources had proved correct, so now nothing could be left to fate or chance if he was to finish this McGowan business once and for all.
Pausing on the carpet, he turned and looked out the study window at the uncommonly gray and cloudy summer sky. Clammy chills of the approaching evening pricked his exposed skin. The sharp, stabbing pain in his groin meant more immediate warmth was needed.
He put on his crimson, silk Chinese housecoat and tied the gold belt around his waist. He poured himself another cup of strong black tea and sipped. Feeling his body enclosed in growing warmth, his thoughts turned to the much anticipated visit of Gabrielle that evening.
The long talks with Arley over the last several weeks were beginning to bear fruit. Arley was a sensible man who knew the value of the Society’s contact with the best and brightest men that the future would have to offer. Yes. A concerned father’s obligations were to his children first.
Caden sat down behind this desk, opened his diary, and started his Monday evening entry.
Tonight, the future begins for both of us. As the persistent waves of the tireless sea transform the earth’s jagged shore into smooth rock and sand, so to will my words recast one woman’s uninformed reluctance into loving loyalty.
Caden closed the brown leather cover of his diary and snapped the cap on his fountain pen. He turned to look at himself in the full length closet mirror, wanting to confirm the appearance of a mature man worthy of commanding unquestioning devotion in a younger woman of such refined breeding.
In his opinion, the rosy twilight filtering through the study window gave his patrician and dignified features a subtle warmth and vitality that did much to soften the impact of his imposing appearance.
He lifted his head and spoke as if rehearsing for one of his lectures. “The slaves to mediocrity and myth are bound by more than the fetters of custom and the familiar: they are servants, bonded to sluggish thought and barren dreams, and hence, incapable, by virtue of their self-imposed enslavement, of cultivating anything of intrinsic and lasting value for mankind. Only those with the highest ideals and the strongest character will have the courage to give birth to the new era.”
Caden extended his hand as if inviting his unseen beloved to take hold. “Come, take my hand, though blood and chaos may precede us as in every cyclic upheaval in nature, we are the masters of our future, letting loose a tidal wave of thought and action to wash away the old world and cleanse our race to receive the new.”
He brought his hand back and placed it, palm down against his chest, over his heart. “A new world.” He closed his eyes. For you and I, Gabrielle.
Gabrielle passed under the magnificent portico of the Theogenesis Society, awed by its commanding grandeur. She knocked once and the heavy wood front opened.
“Miss Caldwell?” a tall, unfamiliar man asked, extending his hand out to her.
“Yes. I have an appointment with Doctor Hellreich.”
“We have been expecting you, Miss Caldwell. I am Doctor Hellreich’s personal assistant, Mr. Wallace.”
Judging him to be a few years younger than Bret, she was startled by his sunken, waxen cheeks and dark, ogling eyes. Gabrielle withdrew her hand from his strong, rigid fingers.
Mr. Wallace ushered her politely across the threshold. “Please, come this way.” He admitted her into the central foyer and motioned to her to follow him.
Without saying another word, Gabrielle walked behind Mr. Wallace, who turned around briefly only once as if to make sure she was still there. They continued on through a long, darkened lecture hall toward another hallway at the opposite end.
Gabrielle moistened wet her lips and swallowed. The uncomfortable sense of wonder lurking around the corners of her apprehension now exerted itself upon her with a growing intensity after each reverberating step across the cold marble floor.
Mr. Wallace pointed to a door in the hallway leading out from the lecture hall. “Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable. Doctor Hellreich will call for you shortly in his study.”
She sat in the nearest wood chair.
Mr. Wallace nodded in respect and took his leave of her the same way they had entered.
Gabrielle clasped her Parisian handbag in front of her with both hands, pressing her fingernails into the plush, dark blue velvet. Although the darkness of evening was descending outside, only one hallway lamp was turned on, casting its faint light around the entrance of Cade’s study.
Father had not told her about the exact reasons for this meeting, only that it was an urgent matter concerning Bret’s proposed financing plans for his Beaumont drilling venture.
Feeling anxious and uncertain, Gabrielle was unable to remain seated. She stood and paced the floor in front of the door for a few minutes then stepped softly up to the door and leaned her ear against it.
She heard the muffled sound of a man speaking, Cade likely, judging by his stern voice. Perhaps he was preparing for his lecture? The discourse stopped abruptly, followed by the sound of slow footsteps coming toward the door.
Gabrielle returned to her chair and adjusted the angle of her blue velvet hat.
The study door opened and Cade, dressed in an ornately sewn Oriental housecoat, bowed politely. “How lovely and vivacious you look tonight, Gabrielle.”
With a cordial, inviting smile, his shoulders straight and chest broad, Gabrielle had to take a short breath and admit to herself that Cade looked very debonair and handsome.
He beckoned her to enter with a slow, rolling motion of his hand. “Such feminine perfection and beauty should never be kept waiting by the mundane affairs of men. Please accept my apologies and welcome to my home.”
“Cade, you are charming to a fault, no doubt. Your graciousness sounds so quaint and refreshing,” Gabrielle answered, smiling. “The men in this town can be so downright rude to a lady these days that a woman can forget what it is like to be treated with respect by a real gentleman.”
The austere glint in Cade’s gaze softened with a warmth she had not seen before in his dark eyes. The candor of her words seemed to elicit a genuine response of admiration and trust, as his shoulders dropped and he assumed a more relaxed and natural stance.
“What’s the matter, Cade? My father said you had a matter of urgent importance you wished to discuss with me in person concerning Mr. McGowan.”
Cade nodded, “Yes, Gabrielle, and I am sorry to call upon you on such short notice, but I feel it is my duty—as your father’s trusted confidant, and out of respect for our new friendship—to reveal certain facts that have come to light about your close friend, Mr. McGowan.”