Page 6 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)

“My dear,”

he said, drawing his wife forward with a welcoming arm outstretched, “it’s time you formally made the acquaintance of a very good friend of mine, Mr.

Farrell Ives.

Farrell, this is my wife, Raelynn.”

“Enchanted, Mrs.

Birmingham,”

Farrell murmured, his lips widening into a white-toothed grin.

His neatly clipped mustache turned up subtly at the ends, accentuating the thin lines of whiskers that trailed downward into his pointed beard.

Sweeping into a lissome bow, he bestowed a light kiss upon her fingertips.

“Rarely do I have the pleasure of seeing my designs worn by one so fair.”

“I’m honored to meet you at last, Mr. Ives....”

Raelynn assured him, bestowing a charming smile upon him.

The couturier silenced her with an uplifted hand.

“Farrell, please.

None of that formality stuff.”

“Farrell,”

she conceded with a soft laugh, “but only if you’ll consent to call me Raelynn.”

“Raelynn it is, then, and may I say that your husband and I made an exceptional purchase when we bought you from your uncle.”

She dipped her head pertly in acknowledgment of his praise.

“I must thank you for your timely assistance, Farrell, but if you wouldn’t think me uncouth, I’d rather not claim Cooper Frye as my uncle.

Whether he is or not has yet to be proven in my mind.

In short, I hope I come from better stock.”

The clothier’s smile broadened.

“I had trouble envisioning the oaf being close kin to an angel.

I’m relieved to know there’s a possibility that he isn’t.”

“If you can stop drooling over my wife long enough to lend me your attention, Mr. Ives,”

Jeff prodded good-na turedly, “we’d like to enlist your services in designing a gown for Raelynn to wear at a ball that I’m giving to celebrate our nuptials the middle of October.”

“I’ll lend whatever talents I have to the matter, my friend, but only if I’m invited.”

Jeff heaved an exaggerated sigh as he slid a fleeting glance upward.

“What I must go through to get this fellow to conform to my wishes.”

Farrell winked askance at Raelynn.

“For your wife, I’d do it for nothing, but since you’ve been so filthy rich all your life, Jeffrey, you need someone to remind you that your every wish isn’t going to be granted with a snap of your well-manicured fingers.

You’ll have to pay through the teeth in this instance.”

A gentle clatter of dishes brought the couturier’s attention promptly around to bear upon one emerging with a tray heavily laden with cups, saucers and a silver coffee and tea service from the passageway.

His employee’s look of consternation warned Farrell that his assistance was required posthaste.

“Good heavens, Elizabeth, let me take that before you drop it,”

he urged, with long strides rapidly crossing the room.

“It looks too heavy for you to even consider carrying all that distance.”

The woman sighed in relief as she gave the service over into his capable hands.

“I’m sorry, Mr.

Ives.

I didn’t realize it was so cumbersome until I was halfway here, and then there was no place to set it down.

I thought Mrs.

Birmingham would prefer tea, and I know how you men enjoy your coffee, so I brought both.”

“You’re as thoughtful as always, Elizabeth.”

Her employer flashed her a smile, brightening the rosy hue of her cheeks before he faced his guests.

After deftly whisking the tray to a table residing in the midst of the settee and chairs, he straightened and rubbed his hands together in anticipa tion.

“I could stand some coffee.

What about you, Jeffrey? Raelynn and Elizabeth, will you both be having tea?”

“I should finish instructing the new girl if you have no further need of me, Mr. Ives,”

Elizabeth said, retreating several steps.

“Nonsense, Elizabeth.

Have someone else explain to her what she’ll be required to do here.

I’d like for you to stay and share in the refreshments while we discuss some ideas for a new ball gown that we’ll be making for Mrs.

Birmingham.”

“Yes, of course, Mr.

Ives.

If that is your wish.”

“It is, most assuredly.”

She seemed a bit flustered beneath the grin he swept toward her.

“Then let me go ask Mrs.

Murphy to take over for me.

I’ll need to fetch another cup anyway.”

“Don’t be long.”

“Only a moment, sir.”

As she hurried from the parlor, Jeff swept a glance around in time to catch his friend casually observing the subtle sway of his employee’s hips.

The stylishly narrow skirt of the Empire gown was most obliging to inspection, for it not only evidenced the graceful slenderness of the woman who wore it, but it also defined her nicely turned backside.

At the moment the couturier seemed especially appreciative of the view.

Whether he realized it or not, his close scrutiny was typical of perusals common among bachelors seriously on the prowl for a mate, if not one long-termed, then surely for the night, but as far as Jeff knew, there had never been anything either now or in the past between Farrell and the women he employed.

Throughout his years as a clothier, he had always drawn a line between his business affairs and his personal life.

Over time he had courted nearly every young, winsome maiden in the area, much as Jeff had done, without making any lasting commitments.

Elizabeth Dalton was from the business side of his life and undoubtedly, for that reason, hadn’t fallen into the same category as his light o’ loves.

It certainly wasn’t because men found her unappealing.

On the contrary, since the death of her husband, Emory Dalton, she had purportedly turned down as many marriage proposals as Farrell had employees, but then, such rumors could not be confirmed since Elizabeth was as mum about herself as she had been about her late spouse.

In the very early stages of Elizabeth’s marriage, Emory Dalton had taken to gambling and, by the time their second anniversary rolled around, had managed to lose what little he had earned farming and breeding horses as well as everything that his wife had made sewing and had later received from the sizable inheritance her parents had left her upon their death.

Emory started drinking along about the time he realized he was squandering their possessions.

The more he indulged in strong drink, the meaner he became, eventually working into a habit of slapping his wife around when he became vexed with her or at his ill-fortune at cards.

On several occasions during this period Jeff had shared a brandy or two with his clothier friend and had lent a sympathetic ear when Farrell had voiced his suspicions about Emory’s treatment of his wife.

It was only after actually witnessing such an occurrence that Farrell had severed his friendship with the gambler, which had begun during his early boxing days.

That division had come about shortly after the couturier had been summoned to a local tavern where Emory had been creating havoc.

The gambler had lost heavily at cards and been so enraged by his circumstances that nothing had been safe within his reach.

The barkeep had begged Farrell to take his friend home, and upon their arrival Emory had given the very pregnant Elizabeth the back of his hand with enough force to send her reeling halfway across the room.

Enraged by the man’s brutality, Farrell had slammed a fist into Emory’s jaw, all but breaking it and, in the process, rendering him unconscious.

The couturier had then carried Elizabeth

upstairs to the bedroom she had shared with her husband.

He had gently soothed her weeping and nursed her bruised jaw until she finally quieted beneath his tender care.

Upon returning to the couple’s parlor, he had found Emory trying to shake off the fog in his head, but the man had become vulgar, accusing Farrell of coveting his wife.

A whole string of slurs had followed until Farrell, highly incensed by the man’s insults, had warned his glowering friend that if he ever laid a hand to Elizabeth again in violence, it would be his last day on earth.

Hardly a week later, a keen-eyed gambler accused Emory of cheating at cards and when Emory drew a small pistol from his coat, the man shot him through the head, killing him instantly.

Jeff’s own gaze followed Raelynn as she wandered off to search the other tables for noteworthy fabrics, and he wondered if his own expression revealed the pleasure he derived from watching her.

Lest he be caught ogling his own wife, he reminded the clothier, “You said it’s not your seamstresses who worry you, but a widow out to find herself a husband.

Is it Elizabeth who vexes you?”

“Good heavens no, man!”

Farrell laughed at such an absurd notion.

“She provides the only sanity in my life.

I was speaking of a certain widowed milliner whose shop is right across the street.

Ever since you sent her over here to buy clothes for Raelynn, she has taken to popping into my shop with special little desserts or dishes she has cooked for me, but then, she’s just as likely to come when she isn’t bearing any offering.

I tell you, Jeffrey, that woman has driven me to seek refuge in my apartment more times in the last two weeks than I ever did before in a three-month period.”

Jeff hooted in glee.

“Blow me away if Thelma Brewster hasn’t taken a shine to you, Fancy Man.”

Farrell’s brows shrugged upward briefly.

“Never mind that she’s more than twenty years my senior and as fluttery as a silly virgin on a carriage ride with a horny roué.

The way she has been acting, a body would think I’ve been try ing to get underneath her petticoats.”

He snorted.

“As if I’d even care to.”

“I take it that she goads you a mite.”

“More’n a mite, Jeffrey.

She has the strangest way of bustling into my shop soon after some sweet young thing comes sashaying in to order a new gown.

I’ve enlisted Elizabeth’s aid in warning me of Mrs.

Brewster’s approach, but the seamstresses usually keep her so busy that she can’t always keep watch.

And I don’t trust another to be as discreet.

Mrs.

Brewster was here not even an hour ago with these little pastries she baked for me.”

Casually he indicated a plate of flaky breads that resided on the silver tray beside the coffee service.

“I saw her coming and took refuge upstairs.

I tell you, Jeffrey me dearie, if I ate everything that woman has brought over here since she started visiting, I’d be rolling through these halls.”

Jeff made an earnest attempt to bridle his amusement, but it invaded his tone nevertheless.

“I’d offer my services, Fancy Man, but I have no idea how I can help.

I certainly don’t want to invite that sort of attention upon myself.”

“Since you’re now a married man, I would assume Mrs.

Brewster considers you well beyond her reach.

The way she chases after me, though, I’ve become leery of even leaving my shop by way of the front door.

You know I’ve never given too much consideration to the idea of taking myself a wife, but lately, I’ve found myself pondering the notion more and more, just to keep that milliner out of my hair, which is a damned poor reason for a bachelor to resign himself to marriage.

It goes to show how desperate I’m beginning to feel, but I’ll try not to jump out of the frying pan into the fire just yet.

As many women as I’ve courted, I’ve yet to find a sweet little miss who doesn’t bore me to tears.”

“Does Elizabeth bore you to tears?”

Farrell rolled his wide shoulders uneasily.

“No, of course not, but she works for me.”

“Oh, yes, that makes a difference,”

Jeff gently needled.

Farrell settled a suspicious squint upon his friend.

“Precisely what do you mean by that remark, Jeffrey me dearie?”

“Only that you’ve apparently turned a blind eye to Elizabeth.

Haven’t you ever noticed how beautiful she is?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed all right, but I haven’t let it go beyond that point.

She overheard me threaten Emory the night I laid him out flat.

When I brought his body home several nights later, Elizabeth stared at me as if I had suddenly become a two-headed monster.

I think for a few moments there she actually believed I had killed him.

While I was digging his grave, she sat in a chair on the front porch just watching me.

She was very solemn, very distant.

She never cried or carried on.

Then, after a time, she went into the house, and when I followed a short time later, I found her down on her knees, mopping up the floor.

It took me a few moments before I realized that her water had broken and that she had gone into labor. She refused to let me carry her upstairs or, for that matter, to even come near her. I rode back into town to fetch a midwife and paced Elizabeth’s front porch like any expectant father until Jake was born. The midwife even brought the boy out for me to see, as if she had some

wild idea that I was the father.

I knew damn well she was acquainted with the family and must have known that Emory was the sire, unless of course he had gotten into one of his ranting moods and shot off his mouth about my coveting his wife.

Anyway, after paying the midwife to stay the night with Elizabeth, I returned home.

“Elizabeth’s circumstances became desperate after word got out that Emory was dead.

People began hounding her to pay his debts, threatening to take what they could find at the farm as trade when she didn’t even have enough money to provide a decent meal for herself.

I offered her a job here, but she said that people would talk about us more than they were.

After refusing to become my assistant, she learned what she’d be making cooking and scrubbing floors for Charlie at the inn.

A pittance, at best.

That’s when she decided she couldn’t raise Jake on what she’d be getting there.

Once she accepted my offer, I paid a nursemaid to care for her son here at the shop while Elizabeth made up my designs.

After she sold the farm, she moved within walking distance of the shop.

I tell you, Jeffrey, until she began sewing for me, my designs never looked so marvelous. Since then, it has been strictly business. She now supervises the other seamstresses and makes the patterns for my designs.

Why, just the other day she hired a young, unmarried chit of a girl in a motherly way who, Elizabeth tells me, is extremely talented with a needle....”

Jeff stiffened apprehensively.

“Would that chit’s name be Nell?”

“Why, yes, I believe it is.

Are you acquainted with her?”

“Well enough to know that she shouldn’t work on my wife’s gown.”

Farrell’s lips twitched behind his Vandyke.

“Caught on you, is she?”

“You don’t know the half of it.

She accused me of being the father of her babe while Raelynn was there to witness our argument.”

Farrell swept his friend with a lengthy perusal before lifting a skeptical brow.

“To tell you the truth, Jeffrey, I thought your tastes were more refined than Nell.

She doesn’t appear to be your type at all.”

“She isn’t.”

“So what would you like me to do about her?”

“Nothing more than what you’ve already done.

I refused to be blackmailed into giving her any money, but Nell will need whatever she earns here to provide for her baby and herself.

I can’t imagine that she’s that far away from giving birth.

You’re her best hope for getting the kind of money she’ll be needing.”

Farrell straightened uneasily as he noticed Raelynn ap proaching a cloth-laden table near the room in which Elizabeth had ensconced Nell.

He exchanged a worried glance with his friend, who rose to his feet in a sudden quandary, but it was obvious that if Jeff bade Raelynn to return, Nell would likely recognize his voice and make an appearance.

“Elizabeth,”

Farrell called, settling Jeff back into his chair with a patting motion of his hand, “bring our lovely guest back with you so we can have our refreshments.

I’d like my coffee now.”

Elizabeth reappeared and, with a smile, escorted Raelynn to her anxious husband.

The dark-haired woman graciously served as hostess and poured their separate brews before settling back in a chair with a cup of tea for herself.

The plate of pastries was passed around, and while they were being relished, Elizabeth offered suggestions as to the type of gown she thought should be made for Raelynn.

“Mrs.

Birmingham’s skin is so fair, the cloth must be of a soft, pale hue to do credit to her flawless complexion.”

Farrell nodded thoughtfully as he studied Raelynn over his own cup of coffee.

“Aye, a pink as dainty as the blush on her cheeks.”

“Soft layers of silk, the top one bejeweled with tiny, lustrous beads,”

Elizabeth murmured, gazing at their subject.

Once again the couturier inclined his head in agreement.

“I can see it now, Elizabeth ...

a gown as slender as the lady herself, with small capped sleeves and a short, beaded train.

Satin slippers should be made for her, and of course, she’ll be needing a lace fan sewn with shimmering beads.

She should be no less than dazzling.”

Much in awe of the imagination of the couturier and his assistant, Raelynn glanced from one to the other in amazement.

Finally, with a smile, she turned to her grinning husband.

“I’ve never known a ball gown to be conjured from one’s imagination with such ease and compatibility.

I used to spend hours and hours sketching clothes, but I usually tossed aside far more than I thought worth keeping.”

“You used to design clothes?”

Farrell queried, his interest growing by swift degrees.

Raelynn inclined her head in a slow nod, not wishing to give the impression that she was well versed in the field.

“For a brief time, once merely for the pleasure of it and then, later, to put food on our table while my mother and I were still residing in England.

Before that, when we could afford better clothes, it was entirely done for my mother and myself.”

Winking at her, Farrell gave her a grin before slanting a puckish glance toward Jeffrey.

“Is it too late to steal you away from your husband?”

Realizing that his bantering was mainly aimed at his friend, Raelynn curbed any evidence of her threatening amusement and lifted slender shoulders in a casual shrug, feigning disinterest.

“I fear so.

You see, I’ve become quite attached to Oakley and would be loathed to leave it....”

“Oakley? Oakley?”

Jeff repeated as if sorely chafed by his wife’s expressed preference.

Raelynn dimpled prettily as she settled gleaming eyes upon him.

“Well, of course, I’d miss you, too, Jeffrey.”

“Humph!”

Her husband folded his arms across his chest, giving every indication that he had been insulted, but at the hilarity of the three, he relented enough to grin.

“I suppose I shall have to make a more lasting impression on my bride ere she finds a plantation more grand than mine.”

Raelynn reached across and consolingly stroked her husband’s hand.

“I don’t think that will happen, dearest.

Oakley is quite beyond any lady’s expectations.”

“Thank heavens for small favors,”

Jeff grumbled, evoking their laughter.

Sitting back in her chair, Raelynn raised her cup to take a sip of tea as her eyes swept casually down the hall.

When a young, pregnant woman of no more than ten and six stepped into the corridor, it was enough to start her hands to shaking.

The girl was petite and very pretty with bright golden hair, but her pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly as they ranged over Raelynn, who managed with some dignity to return her cup to her saucer without spilling the contents over herself.

The girl’s gaze moved on and grew noticeably softer when they came to rest upon Jeff.

“Nell,”

he greeted stoically, giving her a brief nod of recognition.

She lifted a quivering chin as if wounded to the quick by his distant tone, and for a lengthy moment, she seemed to struggle with some inner turmoil as her blue eyes brimmed with tears.

Through the gathering moisture, she turned to glower at Raelynn who sat frozen in her chair.

The girl caressed her own distended belly, deliberately reminding the other woman of her condition, and managed a smug smile, which at best was badly contrived.

Following Raelynn’s stare, Elizabeth turned in growing curiosity.

“Is anything wrong, Nell?”

The girl looked at the woman as if awakening from a dream.

“No, Mrs. Dalton,”

she croaked in a voice choked with emotion.

“I just thought I heard familiar voices, but I guess I was mistaken.”

Bestowing a last glare upon Raelynn, Nell returned to her cubicle and gently closed the door behind her.

Jeff realized that he had been holding his breath ever since Nell had come out of her room.

Gradually he released it, thankful there hadn’t been another argument or angry confrontation with which he’d have been forced to contend.

But then, he wasn’t at all certain that this would be the end of it.

Nell was definitely not the predictable sort; he had learned that the night she had crawled into his bed.

“I hate to rush off and leave such worthy company, Farrell, but my wife and I have other shopping to do,”

he announced, setting aside his coffee cup and squeezing Raelynn’s hand.

She sat as if stunned, her cheeks unusually pale.

It was not hard to imagine what anguish she was now feeling, wondering if he had sired Nell’s child.

After what they had experienced together that morning, the sight of the girl had no doubt brought the brumes of gloom back upon her.

“Perhaps we should get about it.”

“If you wouldn’t mind sparing a moment more of your time, Mr.

Birmingham,”

Elizabeth begged as she returned her own cup and saucer to the silver tray, “I’d really like to take your wife’s measurements before you leave.”

In view of the necessity of her request, Jeff graciously yielded her the time.

“Of course, Elizabeth.

Raelynn’s ball gown takes precedence over everything else.

Nothing we’ll be doing today will be of greater importance.

I just thought my wife would enjoy venturing into some of the nicer shops in Charleston.”

Farrell grinned behind his neatly clipped whiskers.

“Should I consider it a compliment that you came here to mine first? Or do you love me so much, Jeffrey me dearie, that you can’t stay away?”

Jeff made a great show of being unduly shocked.

“What? Love a conceited, dandified nouveau riche ? Are your wits addled, man?”

Raelynn’s smile indicated an easing of her anxiety as she glanced between the two men.

Elizabeth pressed slender fingers to her own mouth to squelch the mirth that bubbled up within her as she looked at Farrell, who, with an expression of exaggerated distress, had fallen back into his chair, but the man proved himself just as adept at a rejoinder as his friend.

“Egads, Jeffrey, are you so jealous of my good looks and manly physique that you must voice your callous affront within your gentle wife’s hearing? What must she think of you? A cad, no less!”

Rising with overstated grace, he faced Raelynn and executed a flamboyant bow.

“Madam, if you’re ready to cast this oafish knave aside, I’d be honored to give him twice the sum he gave your uncle just for a sweet smile from your lips.”

“You already have the best I can offer, sir,”

she warbled, her heart dragging free of that dark morass of uncertainty as she yielded to the clothier’s humor.

“Even if my life were threatened this very moment, I don’t think I could make a better attempt or smile any broader.”

In a calmer moment the two women rose to leave the room, but Farrell begged momentary leave of the Birminghams before drawing Elizabeth aside.

He spoke to her in a hushed tone before she nodded and murmured a response.

Then, upon facing Raelynn with a smile, Elizabeth escorted her to a private fitting room in the adjoining hallway.

Farrell returned to Jeff who had been indulging himself in a husbandly propensity by admiring his bride.

When the door closed behind her, the couturier gained his full attention.

“You needn’t worry that Nell will damage Raelynn’s gown while it’s here in the shop.

Elizabeth will talk to her.

She has a great empathy for the younger women who work here and goes out of her way to reason with them when they’re in the wrong.

Usually they come around to a more sensible way of thinking and eventually can see where they may be at fault.

I’ve asked Elizabeth to counsel Nell and help her come to terms with the fact that you’re married now.

Personally, I believe the girl is fortunate to be working under Elizabeth.

Yet, for all of my assistant’s concern for them, she expects them to conform to the rules we’ve established here. Don’t annoy the customer is the first principle to which they must adhere. They all know that if they overstep the boundaries we’ve established.

here, it will likely mean losing a position that pays them good wages.

That threat serves to quell their animosities to a goodly extent.

Nell will surely take that into consideration once the rules are explained to her and, at least while you’re here in the shop, will avoid you and Raelynn.

Beyond this place, I can make no guarantees.”

“You’re fortunate, my friend, to have Elizabeth working for you ,”

Jeff assured the man, a slow grin making its way across his lips.

“You ought to consider what disaster would befall you if Elizabeth ever decided to accept some gentleman’s proposal of marriage.”

Farrell looked aghast at such a notion.

“Don’t even mention such a thing, Jeffrey! I’d be ruined.”

“Then I’d advise you to consider what you’d be willing to do to keep your talented assistant beneath your wing, my friend.

Who knows when a handsome gallant might sweep her off her feet and steal her from you?”

Farrell’s brow quirked above a menacing glare.

“You need your mouth cauterized with lime, Jeffrey me dearie, and I’m just the one to do it.”

Tossing back his head, Jeff laughed in hearty amusement.

It seemed that he had gotten his point across very effectively.