To Seduce a Rogue (19 page)

She laughed. “No, I can’t ask Kath. She’ll be suspicious. And, she’ll go off on a diatribe about Miles.”

He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders. “Hell.” A frustrated breath slipped from him. “Certainly, everyone has their own description, but I would classify relations as one time, or several times in one evening.” He flipped his hand and pursed his lips. “While, an affair might encompass a week or a month, with flowers, small gifts. Something like that.”

“Like a mistress?”

He flipped his hand the other way. “A mistress is a bit more than an affair. That relationship—without all the intricacies of a marriage—may be a long association. Some gentlemen have mistresses for years. They buy them homes, clothing, set them up, you could say. It’s a good arrangement for both parties if the woman is independent. A widow who doesn’t want to remarry, perhaps.”

She nodded and rolled her glass between both hands. “Do you have a mistress? The one who sent the smelly letter?”

He pressed his lips together. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s a small town. Who else would you imagine receives scented mail? Big news around here.”

He took another drink from the bottle, his glass forgotten. She watched as he ground his teeth together, jaw muscles jumping. “Her name is Marilyn Elliot. And, no, she is not my mistress. Just so you know my entire life history, I have no mistress.” When she continued to stare, he asked, “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

She shook her head. “I think I know why.”

“Wonderful.” He dug in his pocket and produced a cheroot. The obligatory “Do you mind?” followed.

“No, not at all.”

He lit the cheroot with a flick of the match, then leaned back to blow smoke toward the ceiling. A thin trail of it drifted to her. She inhaled the sharp scent, comforted despite herself. It was getting late. The press run would be finished any minute, and Gerald was coming to get her. Her time with him was leaking away.

She tried to catch his gaze. No such luck. “Didn’t you have plans tonight?”

He took a fast drag off the cheroot. “My, you are inquisitive today. Nosy, I could say if I weren’t so diplomatic.”

“Oh.” She looked at her writing tablet. “I’m not trying to be.”

He dipped his head, a grin growing.

She felt her face heat.

“I know, Charlie, I know.” He ran a hand over his mouth, rubbing away the laughter, but not the smile pulling hard.

“Don’t tell me you and Lila had a lovers’ quarrel? She is such a sweet girl. I can’t imagine anyone finding fault with her.”

They looked at each other and broke into laughter.

Which was good, because it rescued her from staring at the drop of wine on his lip. From watching his fingers stroke the bottle. From drowning in the pond that was his smile, the teasing light in his eyes making her feel entirely too special.

Why did he have the power to soothe her, excite her, amuse her, all at once? How could her heart be beating as if she’d run a mile simply because he was sitting close enough for her to smell him?

“Charlotte!” Gerald’s bellow startled them from their reverie.

It looked as if a bottle of ink had exploded all over him. His hair, matted into clumps, hung over his face. A black smear ran from his forehead to the tip of his nose. He still wore his printer’s apron, which had captured much of the mess. He wagged his finger at Adam as he said, “I told her not to come here. I told her that it wasn’t the place for a young lady. She doesn’t listen. Never listens.”

Adam flashed him a you-don’t-have-to-tell-me-about-it look.

Gerald tapped her shoulder. “Come on, missy. It’s time we got home. I’m tired from wrestling with that press.” He shook his head. “Never will make one that doesn’t have problems.”

She grabbed her writing tablet and rose, wishing Chase would offer to walk her home.

“I—” He stood, avoiding her gaze. “I thought I would work on a few editorials, since I have time tonight.”

Charlie turned away from him. His decision didn’t have any effect on her. Her heart sank just the same. Hellfire. She needed to get home, anyway. She and Adam had a habit of meandering, caught in a slow current, while Gerald went through life at a brisk pace.

“I’ll walk out with you.”

She smiled. Chase was leaving the hungry women of the Four Leaf Clover behind.

At least for tonight.

Disquiet

Lack of calm, peace or ease; anxiety; uneasiness.

Adam stood and stretched, preoccupation with matters beyond his control keeping him from his work. The office was quiet. Charlie and Gerald had plans for the evening.

He suspected Charlie’s plans were with Tom.

Frustrated, he dropped his pen and let his gaze stray to the
Sentinel’
s front window. The boardwalk was deserted; late afternoon was a time for dinner and family. A time to play with children or read a book while the soothing aroma of supper filled the house.

Oh, hell
. Maybe a walk would clear his mind. And he needed a few supplies from the mercantile.

He closed the office door behind him and stepped to the boardwalk. Past the seamstress and a new millinery shop, run by a Mrs. J. Peters. A sign sat in the store’s window:

Hats, Trims, Designs.

We receive new materials

from Charleston every week
.

He bet Lila had already purchased enough materials—whatever that meant—to keep Mrs. J. Peters happy for a year.

He pushed the door to the mercantile open with his shoulder, and a shrill bell tinkled.

“Be right there,” a voice called from the back.

“Damn bell,” Adam said and swatted at it like he would an irksome fly. The bell rang again, eliciting another “Be right there” for his trouble.

The store was well stocked. And clean. There were jars of candies lining the counter and an assortment of boxes, containing ribbons and lace trim, sitting next to an antiquated adding machine. A metal box sat on the other side of the machine—what Adam assumed to be the cash box. He shook his head; Mr. Whitefield certainly had a trusting nature.

“How can I help you, Mr. Chase?” Mr. Whitefield asked as he exited the back room.

“Please, call me Adam.”

Mr. Whitefield nodded, his smile spreading. “I want to thank you for the help repairing my storage shed. It’s so hard to get things done, with a wife and five children to look after.”

“Five?” Adam lifted his hand, fingers spread.

“Five. And, I wouldn’t trade any one of them for all the riches in the world. No, sirree. I’m a family man.” “I would love to meet them one day.” He extracted a dog-eared sheet from his shirt pocket. “I have a list. I’ve been meaning to come by sooner. As you can see, it’s weeks old.”

Mr. Whitefield propped a pair of silver spectacles on his nose and examined the list. “Charlotte tells me how busy you are. I’m surprised you had time to come at all.”

“Miss Whitney?”

“Oh my, yes. She stops by checking on her books near bout’ every week.”

Against his will, anything to do with Charlie interested him. “Books?”

Mr. Whitefield pointed to the books on a shelf in the mercantile window. “She uses me as a library, you see. No one knows they’re buying a book that has already been read. She takes good care of them. Not a wrinkle, not a scratch. I love doing it for her. Never seen anyone get such joy from words on a page. She’s a lovely girl, she is.” He said this with a sniff.

So, Mr. Whitefield had noticed the town’s reaction to the
lovely girl
.

Adam gestured to the books. “Has she read all of those?”

Mr. Whitefield looped his suspenders through his thumbs and ambled to the shelf. He came back with four books balanced in the crook of his arm. “She hasn’t read these. Oh!” He slapped his forehead and disappeared under the counter. Adam feared he would have to help him get to his feet as he heard the man’s knees crack and pop like firecrackers.

“Here’s one she’s been waiting for.” He straightened and slapped a book on the counter. “I nearly forgot it was here. Come yesterday. I thought about putting it in the window, but I wanted to save it for her to read first.” He lowered his voice. “Those darn Danes buy the books for their library. And you know they don’t read them.”

Adam turned the book so he could read the cover. “
Jane Eyre
.”

“Yes, yes. Took me quite a spell to get it.”

“I’ll take it. And the other four. Let’s see.” He shuffled through the books. “Edgar Allan Poe. Emerson Bennett. Herman Melville. Augustus B. Longstreet. Hmm...that one is not a quick read. No matter. Deliver everything to the
Sentinel
office. Tomorrow is fine. I know you must be closing soon.”

Mr. Whitefield waved his hands in wild circles. “But, that one is for Charlotte. The others, well, the Danes—”

“These are for the
Sentinel’s
library. Charlie, being an employee, has full access to the books. She can scratch them, bend the pages, anything she wants.” Adam winked at him. “I’m sure you can tell the Danes the shipment was delayed. Give them some of the others. Can they distinguish between Melville and Hawthorne?”

“Dis...what?”

Adam smiled, using charm as an inducement. “They won’t know one book from the other.”

“You say Charlotte can read them, anytime she wants?”

“Of course. You have my word.”

“I’ll have them sent over tomorrow morning. First thing. One of my boys will be by. Strapping lads, the lot of them.”

“To be sure.” Adam grabbed
Jane Eyre
. “I’ll take this one now.”

“Sure, sure, Adam.”

Adam didn’t mind the bell ringing on his way out.

He knew Charlie would love the books.

* * *

“I saw something at Mr. Whitefield’s today. Something strange, I think.”

“Strange?” Miles pulled Kath closer to his side and yawned. He hoped the telling of the strange incident wasn’t going to take long.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Adam was in the store, and he bought Charlie all these books. I don’t know. I just got a funny feeling about it.”

“Good funny or bad funny?”

“Good, I mean, not a bad feeling. Mercy, I don’t know what I mean.”

He squeezed her and laughed softly.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you’re so blind, that’s all.”

She stiffened and lifted her head. “Blind? Miles Lambert, I don’t know what you’re hinting at.”

He pulled her back against him and smoothed his hand along her back. “Adam and Charlie are in love.”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Why? Because of Tom.”

“Ha. Do you honestly think those two are made for each other? Kathy, pull your head out of the sand.”

She slapped his chest. “Tom is a nice man. Responsible.”

“That’s true, but think about Charlie. Would any of those things make
her
happy?”