Today's Embrace (3 page)

“That is why I must go, Father. And I want to learn about her from someone who knew her in her own family. You've told me some things, but, well, you would see Katie differently than Dr. Jakob.”

He nodded and said no more. Only rarely had he discussed Katie. Evy was reluctant to ask him to talk about her, since it was unfair to Camilla for him to awaken memories of another woman he may have loved. The sins of her parents had no bearing on Camilla, and yet Lady Camilla had undoubtedly paid a price because of those sins, just as Evy had paid a price. Yet she'd forgiven her parents. Her one aching fear was that Katie might not have believed in Christ, and she was equally concerned for Anthony. While he sometimes attended the Anglican Church, was his motive merely that of maintaining traditional forms? If so, she felt that had kindled no spark in his spirit. But she did not yet feel secure enough in their relationship to seek more evidence. Camilla must know … Camilla, though a frail woman, an apparently timid woman in many ways, had eagerly attended Uncle Edmund's preaching services during her visit to Rookswood when Evy was a young girl.

“I want to come to Cape House soon,” she repeated to her father. “There's so much I need to say to Camilla.”

“I'm pleased you feel that way, Evy. She arranged before your wedding to send you a gift you'll appreciate, but it did not arrive in time for the wedding.”

He reached inside his jacket pocket and handed her a small silver box. He did not smile.

“This belonged to Katie. It was among her things at Cape House. I'm afraid practically everything she left was given away to the poor. But Camilla found this and kept it until now.”

Evy opened the box. Inside was a gold heart pendant. On the back was the inscription:
Katie
.

Evy smiled as she touched it gently with her finger. Her mother must have worn it often. Evy wondered if the embedded diamond cross
had kept her from wearing the pendant the night she left Cape House with Henry Chantry in hope of finding Evy in the mission station at Rorke's Drift.

“Who told Camilla about my mother?”

“Heyden's mother. I think she was a nurse companion of some sort.”

“Inga?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yes, the name sounds familiar.”

“She's still alive, then?”

He appeared reluctant, then nodded. “I believe she's somewhere in the Transvaal, or was it Mafeking? It escapes me. Camilla will know. She can tell you.”

Then Heyden had at least told her the truth about his mother, Inga, working at Cape House.

“Inga may have taken a few of Katie's things with her when she left soon after Katie's death.”

Evy's emotions churned. There were so many things she needed and wanted to do in South Africa. There must be something she could do to convince Rogan that the war should not stand in her way.

“I'll see you again at Capetown,” his word came huskily. Her father bent down, kissed her cheek, gave a reassuring squeeze to her arm, and walked from the salon to join his guests, leaving her alone with her prize and her emotions.

Evy continued holding the heart pendant in her palm until coming aware some time later of women's voices. She looked up and toward Rogan, rather surprised that she'd forgotten him. He wasn't in the salon. She remembered having seen him standing in the doorway just before Anthony gave her the pendant. He had seen someone who hadn't pleased him.

She hung the pendant around her throat and managed to hook the tiny clasp. Then she placed the box inside her fashionable gilded wrist-purse, containing handkerchief, lip color, and a small powder puff. She smiled and started for the door to locate Rogan and show him her mother's pendant when the women's voices stopped her abruptly.

“Poor Rogan,” came one lady's wearied tone. “I'm sure he's heartbroken over it, but what could he do?”

“Serves the scamp right if you ask me. There was Diana, too. You recall her?”

“Whoever could forget? Margaret took her on a grand tour. They always said—”

“Whatever might he have been thinking, marrying this girl?”

“My dear, you heard what Patricia said. He simply
had
to marry her.”

“Then she's …?”

“But of course.”

“Extraordinary. She
is
quite pretty.”

“How else could she have gotten him to visit the likes of her but to invite him to the hayloft?”

“My dear!”

“I know her kind. Lord Brewster was upset with Anthony for even bringing her here. She's like her mother.”

“That dreadful Boer girl Anthony knew in South Africa?”

“Mother and daughter … cut from the same piece of cloth. Except Anthony wouldn't marry
her
when she showed up … well, you know.”

“But Rogan did marry Evy.”

“She's a diamond heiress, isn't she? Patricia says Evy will bring him another great fortune. Oh, she was after Rogan all along. Even when a girl, she threw herself at his feet.”

“Well, she got him.”

“The one way she could. What could he do? It's as Patricia said; she took advantage of him.”

“And she has the audacity to come here to the Brewsters'.”

“Well, my dear, you can't tell yet, can you? It won't show for another month or two.”

“Poor Patricia. I saw her with Rogan earlier … in the garden …”

Their voices faded as they wandered off.

The sickening feeling in the pit of Evy's stomach made her knees weak. She held to the back of the chair and lowered herself to the velvet
settee. Her cold fingers sought contact with the pendant heart around her throat.

Pregnant. They think I'm expecting Rogan's baby … that he had to marry me
.

The gossip stunned Evy. Never would she have thought that Patricia would stoop so low. Had she come to the ball to sow her bitter seeds?

Footsteps sounded, too solid and bold for the women. She looked up, unable to mask her feelings. Rogan stood there. He looked at her long and hard, and his jawline tensed. He came to her looking down, a frown forming. Then his warm, brown eyes noticed the gold heart with a center cross of diamonds.

“Anthony told me yesterday about Katie's pendant.”

“You knew?” Her voice was tremulous, still dismayed by Lady Patricia's cruel gossip.

“It was the deciding factor in bringing you here tonight.” There was a measure of distaste in his voice that was a reflection of invited guests from Brewster House. His inky lashes narrowed. “I should never have let you come here.”

His low voice, hardened because of some anger, surprised her. “What did Patricia tell you in the garden?” she asked quietly. His gaze shot to hers. Had he not wanted her to know he'd spoken with Patricia alone in the garden? A sinking feeling spread over her. Rogan
wouldn't
, no, he couldn't want Patricia still—?

His mouth went down at one corner. “Nothing worth repeating.”

Her gaze lowered. “That's not what I heard just a moment ago …”

“I thought it might be something like that the moment I saw your face. Patricia is gone, thoroughly castigated by yours truly. Who told you?”

She looked up quickly. Did he know about the lie?

“I don't know who they were … just two ladies. I didn't recognize their voices. They were talking outside the door. They didn't know I was here.”

“Obviously. The way of all gossipmongers.”

“Oh, Rogan, they think—Patricia has spread the shameful story that you had to marry me because … because—” Her eyes implored his.

“You're pregnant, I believe is the correct word,” he said dryly.

She intertwined her fingers and brought them to her mouth, head lowered. “They believed it. They must all believe it. I feel so ashamed.”

“Rubbish. Because of someone else's lies? Get up, darling.” He reached down and, grasping her arm, pulled her to her feet. He tilted her chin. “Courage.”

“Rogan, I want to leave now.”

He appraised her, then his hand dropped and he folded his arms in a bored stance. “I'm disappointed in you.”

“Disappointed!”

“You're willing to risk war and a spitting cobra or two in South Africa, but when the moment comes to demonstrate courage for being the daughter of Katie van Buren, you shrink away like a timid rabbit. I thought my bride was not merely the most beautiful woman here tonight but also the most courageous. I see you prefer to slink away, giving credence to the malicious talk, no doubt by the back door, through the dark and silent garden. Ah, well …” He appeared ready to go for her wrap.

Evy searched his taunting gaze. No doubt he was saying all this to put iron in her backbone. She lifted her chin.

“You really want me to stay and put on an act for them?”

“Not an act. I want you to show them who you really are—the Evy I've known as a courageous beauty since I was twelve.”

She felt a smile tug at her lips. He had a way of pulling some determination out of her spirits, even when they were sagging miserably.

“Bravo, Mrs. Chantry. I see the fire beginning to brighten the green in your amber eyes—always a good sign. Now, sweet, listen to your husband. There are two things you're going to do for our
honorable
guests before we bid them adieu and abandon Brewster House to the old cats. First, we dance.”

“Dance!” Was she hearing him right?

“Dance.” He flashed a menacing smile, not at her, but evidently at something or someone who was on his mind. “Of course, we dance, my sweet. We are at our wedding ball. The dear ‘lords and ladies' must see how charming my delectable bride really is!”

She couldn't help her smile. “Are you out of your wits? Should we walk in there now with all this talk circulating? Every eye will be on us.”

“Exactly. Give me your arm, ‘Lady' Chantry. You're the most fascinating woman here tonight and, by far, the most honorable. They must see it so. I won't take no for an answer,” he said when she started to say something. “You know how persistent I can be when I want something,” he said, giving her a slanted look, “so gracefully float forward, my love. Hark—how the waltz in our honor is about to being.”

He looped her arm firmly on his and leaned over to lift her fingers to his warm lips, then waggled his brows.

She laughed, but her dismay had somehow been lifted from her shoulders as he ushered her out of the salon and across the wide corridor into the ballroom.

Evy's eyes were on Rogan's handsome face as he led her in with a devastatingly charming smile. She cast him her most demure smile in return.

The floor emptied as the guests moved back toward the walls, giving them the whole ballroom. Evy saw a familiar auburn-haired woman among the guests. So Patricia was still here. Had she come to spoil their dinner ball with a scandal?

Rogan was giving Evy a light bow, then raised her hand once more to his lips and kissed her wedding ring as all eyes fixed upon them. It was so dreadfully romantic that she knew her eyes must be shining. She felt a princess with her crown prince. They smiled, totally absorbed in each other as he led her to the middle of the floor.

“Let the music begin!” a voice from the orchestra boomed.

His eyes held hers as they began to move to the music. She was sure that in Rogan's arms she could dance as nimbly as any mystical garden fairy. Not even the special shoe she needed for spinal alignment could
intervene when Rogan looked at her as he was doing now, consumed with her and oblivious to all else.

They must have made a stunning picture, for when the waltz ended someone applauded. Her brief glance caught Anthony with a proud look on his face.

“Now,” Rogan said, taking her arm and escorting her toward the orchestra. “There is something you and I must do.”

She wondered as he left her side and stepped onto the platform, then spoke to the conductor. The man looked at Evy, showed approval, and nodded briskly. He rapped his wand for the attention of his musicians, leaned over, and said something.

Rogan came down from the steps and escorted her to the grand piano.

“Rogan,
no
, I can't—it's been months since I've practiced—”

“I heard you just last night at the townhouse. If I can play,
you
can.”

“What? You—?”

Sure enough, to her amazement, one of the musicians came forward and bowed, presenting his violin to Rogan. Rogan accepted the instrument and bowed in return.

Evy, whose heart was thudding hard enough to make her breathless, sat down at the awesome piano, taking a moment to feel the keyboard. Her eye caught the glitter of her wedding ring. The diamonds were one with Katie's pendant winking at her breast. Both seemed to urge her onward.

Rogan leaned over and said in a low tone, “Better play Paganini. That's what I last practiced.”

The ballroom had fallen into stunned silence.

Lord Jesus, this is dedicated to You
, Evy prayed.

She looked at Rogan. The confidence he displayed in her before all those present, her critics, along with his delight in her as his bride, gave her all she needed. She smiled at him, then glanced at the conductor, whose eye was upon her. She nodded briefly that she was ready.

Her eyes lowered to the keys. Her fingers started moving faultlessly,
as though prompted by her years of practice. The stirring passion flamed, burning in her heart. All else faded as her soul and spirit arose to the demands of the exquisite concerto reverberating through the ballroom. Her heart took flight on soaring wings of gilded doves, higher, higher into splendor.

Then her fingers slowed and eased. She played softly as Rogan's strings lifted the masterpiece along with chords that turned the duet into a work of passionate love.

They reached the last note; their hands fell still. Evy lowered her head.