Chapter Eight
Sarah stared down at the delicate gold links that surrounded her wrist and wondered yet again how they had gotten there. Looking up, her eyes settled on Nick as he conversed with the jeweler in the corner of the shop. He had given not a clue to his purpose when he requested she accompany him on his morning errands.
I should have realized a man in his position wouldn’t have errands to tend to, she thought, chiding herself for being duped. She looked back to the bracelet. The piece was pleasantly heavy, and the workmanship was exquisite. She closed her eyes in frustration. How was she ever going to be able to reciprocate? She could still see the smile on Nick’s face when he had clipped his gift around her wrist, and her knees grew weak from the memory.
Sarah stood before a glass case admiring Walter Johnson’s talent as she studied Nick from the corner of her eye. His form-fitting breeches were fawn-colored and his coat a deep emerald. The snowy white lace of his cuff’s only seemed to emphasize the honey color of his skin.
Nick looked up and, catching her eye, smiled intently. Sarah felt her heart quicken. This will never do, she thought, quickly turning her back to the men lest they witness her reaction. She pressed her hand to her cheek and felt the heat intensify as the bracelet caressed her skin.
Picking up a silver bowl from the wooden counter, she let her fingers trace over the cool, smooth surface as she struggled to find an answer.
“Would you like that also?” Nick’s voice sounded close to her ear, and Sarah jumped to find him directly behind her. “I ah . . . no thank you.” Her hand trembled as she quickly placed the bowl back on the counter. “I was just admiring the excellent workmanship.”
Nick reached around her to touch the rim of the bowl, trapping her body firmly between his and the counter. “Would you not like this to take home with you as a memento of your time in Virginia?”
Sarah’s hands clenched at her side as his nearness overwhelmed her. She could feel his body against her back. One hand rested intimately on her shoulder while his other sensuously traced back and forth along the rim of the silver bowl.
Walter Johnson, oblivious to the seduction going on before him, moved behind the counter. “If Madame doesn’t like the design, I would be most happy to alter it to please her.”
Sarah struggled to keep her voice even as the light scent of Nick’s cologne invaded her senses. “Oh no, ‘tis lovely just as it is.”
“Then we’ll take it.” Nick’s breath whispered across her cheek and Sarah could stand no more. With a quick, determined sidestep, she pulled away from the warmth of him.
“No, please,” she protested. “You have already gifted me with this lovely bracelet.” She watched the jeweler’s wide smile begin to fade.
“Would you rather choose something else?” Nick questioned.
“No, no.” Sarah’s hand clamped over the bracelet as if daring either man to suggest she return it. “The bracelet is most exquisite. I simply do not require a silver bowl as well. One gift is more than generous.” Even as she heard her words, Sarah realized she had committed herself to keeping Nick’s gift, and inwardly she smiled.
“And if I insist?”
She searched the dark eyes that gazed back at her and wondered how to bring the happy smile back to his features. “You truly wish for me to select a second piece?” she questioned softly.
Nick nodded, more at ease. Now he was back on familiar footing. Sarah had merely wanted to pick out another piece herself. “Choose whatever you wish.” He gestured to the grand display of pieces within the shop.
Sarah turned and walked immediately to a glass case on the near wall. “I’d like that one.”
Walter Johnson’s face bloomed with pleasure as she pointed to a heavy silver necklace. It was one of his finest pieces, and the most costly item in his shop. “What an excellent eye you have Madame.” Quickly he extracted a tiny key from his waistcoat and unlocked the case. “This is one of my personal favorites.” He withdrew the necklace and lovingly passed to Sarah.
Sarah examined the piece carefully, delighting in the craftsmanship. “‘Tis a work of art,” she said as she turned her smile to Nick and handed him the necklace. “Is it not most beautiful?”
Nick inspected the necklace and found it excellent. Walter produced only the finest; still he never would have selected it. It was not the cost that put him off, but the style just didn’t suit Sarah. He handed the necklace back to Walter with a nod of his head. “The lady has spoken.”
Sarah’s smile radiated her pleasure, and Nick felt his own returning. When the transaction was completed, Nick extended the small package toward Sarah. “Would you like to carry it?”
She shook her head and allowed Nick to take her arm as they left the shop. “You are a very generous man.” She gazed up at him, her violet eyes dancing with pleasure.
Nick patted her hand, liking the way it felt on his arm. “You are a very beautiful lady.” He grinned as the color flared in her cheeks. “But I must admit that you have baffled me.”
“How so?” She tipped her head and gave him a questioning stare.
Nick turned them in the direction of the small town. “I would never have guessed you would fancy that particular piece.”
Sarah stopped her violet eyes wide and innocent as she looked up at him. “Oh, but ‘tis not for me.”
“What?” Nick’s voice exploded and he spun her around to face him his hands clamped on her shoulders preventing her escape. “I’ve just spent a fortune and you say it is not for you?”
Startled by the tone of his voice, Sarah stammered, “You seemed so intent on purchasing another piece, I thought you wished to aid Mr. Johnson with his business.”
“Walter Johnson is one of the most respected craftsmen in the South.” Nick’s eyes grew dark. “Now tell me, if that silver necklace is not for you, then just what did you plan to do with it?”
“I thought it would suit your grandmother,” she whispered, feeling once again she had blundered, and badly.
Nick’s eyes flared wide in disbelief. “Whatever were you hoping to gain?”
Sarah stared down at her shoes in despair. “I misunderstood. I thought you meant to give the man more business.”
Nick’s hands fell from her shoulders as his mind filled with suspicion. “And now you’ll expect me to believe that you didn’t hope to get into Gran’s good graces by presenting her with a costly gift.”
Sarah’s head snapped. “I have no gift for your grandmother. I only thought I was helping you make a selection.” Hesitantly, her hand reached out to touch his sleeve. “Would you like me to take it back? Surely I could retrieve your money if I but explained the misunderstanding to Mr. Johnson.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed as he searched her face for answers. “Are you telling me that you picked out that piece for me to give to my grandmother?”
Sarah nodded vigorously, wisps of midnight hair pulling free to curl about her face. “The moment I saw it I thought of her. Don’t you think she will be pleased?”
Nick shook his head and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Sarah was right, the necklace would be an excellent gift for Gran, and she’d love the expense of it. But if she hadn’t meant to present the gift herself, what had she hoped to gain? His eyes studied her intently.
“Tell me why, when you knew I wanted to get a gift for you, you purposefully chose something for someone else?”
Sarah searched for the words that would return his good mood. “You already gave me a beautiful gift. See . . .” With childlike enthusiasm she extended her arm, and allowed the bracelet to sparkle in the sunlight. “ 'Tis the most beautiful thing I have ever owned and I shall treasure it always.” Her face radiated with pleasure. “There was no need for you to give me more. When I realized your determination to purchase another piece, I thought of your grandmother.” Her eyes dropped to her feet and her voice grew softer. “I’m sorry if I have displeased you.”
Nick raised her chin wit
h a single finger. “You have surprised me yet again,” he observed, his dimples winking. “But I doubt that you could ever displease me.”
Sarah felt her body grow warm, and suddenly she wished they were anywhere but on a public road in front of a silversmith’s shop. Thoughts that should never enter a maiden’s head were suddenly foremost in her mind. And for once she did not try to push them aside.
“Nick, Nicholas Beaumont, is that you?” The magic vanished as a throaty female voice called from a carriage across the road. Sarah’s eyes grew wide as she watched a tall, stately woman in a scandalous dress descend from the carriage to approach them. Her gown was a shocking shade of lavender, and the low décolletage pressed so tightly, Sarah feared the woman in danger of spilling out of her gown. Unknowingly, she took several steps backward until a wooden fence halted her retreat.
“I’m in a rush as always, but I thought that was you.” The woman extended her hand for Nick to kiss. “ 'Tis an age and a half since we’ve seen you and I’m quite put out about it.”
Nick executed a courtly bow. “Mrs. Myerson. How have you been keeping and how is that crafty husband of yours? Does he still cheat at cards?”
Sylvia Myerson’s laughter rang out. “You always had a wicked tongue, Nicholas. And when I tell George, he shall insist you spend the evening just to give him a chance to empty your pockets.”
“Ah, Sylvia,” Nick chuckled. “I fear I would not prove good company, for I’m onto his tricks and it would be George who would come out the loser.”
“Then you shan’t come, even to dine?” she pouted.
Nick grinned. “I would deem it an honor to break bread at your table.”
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. “Just as long as bread is the only thing you and George see fit to break,” she admonished. Reaching up, she planted a kiss directly on Nick’s mouth. “And the next time I send you an invitation you are to come, do you hear? Now I must be off or I shall be late for my music lesson.” Sylvia winked over her fan and retreated as quickly as she had come.
Nick smiled. Sylvia Myerson was a social whirlwind, and one was never quite sure just where she’d set down. He watched the gentle sway of her skirt as she hurried toward her carriage and wondered if anyone could lay claim to a conversation with her that lasted longer than two minutes. But, he acknowledged, even married, Sylvia Myerson was a damn fine-looking woman. Still smiling, Nick turned back to Sarah only to find her skin pale and her eyes wide as saucers.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” Nick took several long strides to reach her. “Are you ill? 'Tis probably the sun. I should never have made you walk so far. Stay here and I shall hire a carriage to take us home. I’ll only be a moment.”
Sarah, who had yet to find her tongue, could not begin to explain that neither the sun nor the length of their morning venture had anything to do with her state. Leaning back against the high fence that bordered the silversmith shop, she watched Nick’s lengthy stride carry him away. She tried to call to him that she was fine, but he turned the corner and disappeared from view.
Sarah stepped away from the fence and tried to assimilate what she had just seen. Whatever had possessed that poor woman to appear in public in such scandalous attire? In Salem, she would have been publicly mocked and run from the town. Sarah thought of the scene that Samuel had made when poor Sarah Good had crossed his path looking for work. It was not her fault that her husband often disappeared for weeks at a time leaving her to cope with the care and feeding of their large brood of children. But the woman was slovenly and smoked a pipe, and Samuel had preached for hours on the sins of laziness. Sarah shook her head. She had often thought Samuel might fare better if he had read some scripture on charity. But he was older and it was not her place to instruct him. So she had slipped the harried woman a few loaves of her own bread and then prayed soundly for her salvation.
The sun grew warm upon her face as she waited, and Sarah couldn’t help but wonder how Nick would have reacted if the pipe-smoking Sarah Good had come knocking at his door. A warm pleasure seeped into her veins as she thought of how gently Nick had just treated his misguided acquaintance. The woman had been most forward, even trying to kiss him, yet, despite his discomfort, Nick had maintained his manners. Sarah smiled and touched the bracelet. Nicholas Beaumont was a very special man.
The sound of a carriage caught her attention but as Sarah stepped forward, the air was forced from her stomach with a bone-jarring whack and, within a blink, she viewed her surroundings from the ground.
“Gee, lady, I’m really sorry. Are you hurt?”
Sarah turned to see that her assailant was no more than a small, grimy lad with a hoop. “Are you injured?” she gasped, brushing the dirt from her hands and climbing to her knees.
“Naw, I’m fine. I just didn’t see you standing there. You ain’t gonna tell my ma, are you?”
Sarah reached for the dirty hand that extended toward her. “I don’t think we need to involve anyone else in this, Master . . .?”
“The name is James Thaddeus Richardson.” He shook her hand soundly. “But you can call me Jimmy.”
Sarah estimated the lad to be about seven years old and, judging from the dirt he carried on his small frame, it was almost that long since his last bath. “Well, Jimmy, you can call me Sarah. Now tell me, are you sure you’re not injured?”
Jimmy shook his head, letting his sun-streaked hair flop across his face. “Na, no lady could hurt me. ‘Sides, I never cry. I didn’t even cry when Bruce Wilson beat me up.”
Sarah struggled to keep the smile from her lips. “But why would Bruce Wilson want to fight with you?”
Satisfied there was no damage to his hoop, Jimmy looked back at Sarah. “I won some coins from him when we was throwing the dice. His maw got sore and told him to get the money back. But we needed the money, too, so I said he was just a bad loser. Then he beat me up.”
Sarah gasped aloud. “You gamble . . . for money?”
Jimmy wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Nah, not too often.”
Sarah placed a hand to still the frantic beating of her heart. He was a mere child. “Well, I am certainly glad to hear that,” she replied sternly.
“Yeah, usually I don’t got no money, and since I’m better than most, none of the other parents will let their kids play with me.”
At a loss for words, Sarah shuddered. It was one thing for an adult to choose the road to damnation, but to allow a child –
“You know,” Jimmy’s childish voice intruded. “You’re real pretty. But why are you wearing such a funny dress?”
Completely taken aback, Sarah’s hands paused from brushing the dirt from her gown. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she questioned as her fingers smoothed over the finest wool she had ever touched.
Jimmy screwed up his face and gave her an appraising stare. “Well, it is pretty odd-looking.”
They both turned as a carriage pulled to a stop beside them. Nick had taken less than a step down before Jimmy grabbed his hoop and dashed down the street as if his bare feet were dancing on hot coals.
“What happened?” Nick took in the dust that covered her skirt, and his grip on her hands tightened. “Are you injured?”
Sarah tried not to wince from the pressure of his hands on her fingers. “I’m fine,” she said. But Nick’s look told her he carried a different opinion. Dismayed, she looked down to see her black skirt was filthy.
Pulling her hands from his, she took a step back. Why can I never do anything right when he’s around? She thought dejectedly. First I blunder in the jewelry shop and now he finds me playing in the dirt. “Do you know that boy?” She gestured to the child’s retreating form and tried inconspicuously to brush the dust from her skirt.
Nick shaded his eyes with his palm. “That would be the young Richardson boy. I think his name is Jimmy. Why, did he knock you down?”
Sarah quickly shook her head and made a vow to seek out Jimmy’s mother as soon as circumstances allowed. “We had a discuss
ion on fashion,” she said carefully as Nick helped her into the carriage. “He didn’t seem to appreciate my new dress.”
Nick’s eyes skimmed over the severe neckline that almost reached her chin, then down the tight-fitted sleeves that hid her slender arms. “Smart lad,” he muttered before joining her and taking the reins. “Now, let’s get you home so you can rest.”
Sarah shifted on the smooth leather seat, liking the gentle sway of the carriage. “Why do you think he said that?”
Nick cleared his throat, stalling for time. “Well . . . it is a bit unusual,” he replied tactfully.
She let her fingers trace over the soft black wool of her sleeve. “But Charlotte did an outstanding job. These seams are the finest I have ever seen. And the quality of the cloth is superb. This gown will last a lifetime.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Thank heaven for that.”
Sarah’s forehead wrinkled with thought. “I take it that Jimmy comes from rather poor circumstances. He probably has never seen a gown as fine as this before.”
“That’s it exactly.” Nick pounced on her answer and gave her a melting smile. “I would bet on the fact that for James Richardson, the style of your gown was a definitely a first.”
Sarah continued to frown. “I don’t think betting is appropriate under the circumstances.”
Nick returned her stare. “What circumstances?”
“Don’t you think 'tis scandalous for a child to bet?”
Nick’s confusion was not totally complete. “What are you talking about?”
Folding her hands in her lap and looking straight ahead, her words were stiff. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for an adult to bet with a child.”
“Who’s betting with children?”
Sarah gave him a long, pointed stare.
Nick thought for a moment before the light finally dawned. “Angel, I am not going to bet with Jimmy. It was just a figure of speech. Besides,” he chuckled, “from what I hear, Jimmy would probably beat me.”
“That’s not funny!” she gasped.
Nick shook his head sadly. “No, it’s not.”
For several minutes the carriage rolled in silence, and Nick wondered how things with Sarah always managed to become so confusing. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you to Sylvia,” he said suddenly. “But she never stays long enough in one place to have decent conversation.”
“That poor woman.” Sarah shook her head. “I must admit, it truly warmed my heart to see how politely you treated her. Most wouldn’t have been so kind.”
Nick’s puzzled look returned. “Why would you say that Sylvia was poor?” he questioned, thinking of the elaborate albeit gaudy Myerson mansion.
Sarah clenched her hands in her lap. “She is married to a man who cheats.” Her tone gave hint to the seriousness she placed on the mater. “And to make it worse,” she added in a hushed whisper, “it doesn’t seem to be a secret. Is that why she is forced to wear such clothing, as a warning of some type?”
Nick speculated on the reaction Charlotte Rousseau would have to hear that one of her most costly gowns had been considered worse than sackcloth and ashes. “Sarah . . .” he began gently, not exactly sure what to say. “I’m sure that Sylvia chose the gown herself and, in fact, probably paid dearly for it.”
“The town would make her pay to wear something like that?” Her voice was incredulous.
“No, no.” Nick tried to follow the twisted reasoning of her mind but found it impossible. “I’m sure Sylvia didn’t pay for the gown herself; her husband George paid for it.”
Sarah drew herself more erect on the seat. “Then he’s not a very kind man, for 'twas his vice that caused this mess in the first place.”
“What vice?” Nick struggled to contain his frustration. “What mess?”
“His gambling,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder to be sure none would hear her slander. “That, and the fact he cheats at cards.”
Nick tried to decipher the code that would allow him to see the connection between George Myerson being a bad card cheat and the fact that his wife wore gowns that cost a fortune. “I definitely think that you have stood in the sun too long,” he said gently. “And as a master of the house, I prescribe a cool drink and a long nap when we get home.”
Sarah felt herself grow warm from his tone and the way he used the word home, for in truth, when his grand house came into view, she began to feel as if she was returning home. “I thought I might visit your grandmother this afternoon.”
Nick helped her out of the carriage, pleased to see that she no longer looked quite as pale. “I have business at the wharf later today. I shall escort you in my carriage and then retrieve you on my return.”
“Thank you.” Sarah turned to go into the house, but his hand on her arm halted her progress.
“If Gran starts to give you a difficult time, tell Luther to fetch you a carriage. I don’t want you walking home as you did yesterday.”
“Why should Mrs. Beaumont be difficult? We got on wonderfully yesterday.”
Nick wondered what she would do if he gathered her in his arms and suggested that they spend the afternoon together in bed. He knew she was attracted to him, even though she struggled to hide the fact, for he had only to smile at her and her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink. But the innocence that filled her eyes plagued him and he fought back his desires.
“Yesterday . . .” he paused to clear the huskiness from his throat, “you saw Gran at her weakest. She’ll not appreciate that today. She’s a proud, tenacious lady, and it’s more than difficult for her to accept the fact that, at her age, she can’t keep up with the image of her youth.”
Sarah smiled with the thought. “I imagine the young Mrs. Beaumont was quite a force to be reckoned with.”
Nick reached around her and opened the front door. “She still is,” he chuckled softly. “She still is.”