A Season Beyond a Kiss (40 page)

“Well, that fact could certainly pin the blame on the murderer if we ever found him,” Jeff countered.

Farrell came out of his chair with a frustrated sigh and began to pace about his parlor. He paused to look at his guest as he considered an alternative to the plan Jeff had come up with. “Have you asked Brandon if Raelynn can stay at Harthaven until you’ve proven your innocence? She’d be a lot safer out there with them than living here in Charleston, even with you residing several blocks away.”

“Raelynn doesn’t want to involve him or Heather in this matter.”

Farrell couldn’t subdue a flicker of surprise. “Given the gravity of the situation, Jeffrey, should your wife’s preferences dictate the course of action you should take?”

“Not necessarily, but I consider myself a practical man. If I’m to win Raelynn’s trust and regard, I must court her as a suitor. Having her ensconced in the midst of my family would seriously hinder her liberty to reject or to invite my attentions. In short, she’d find it difficult to dismiss me from my brother’s house. As for Fridrich, if he really believes she has broken with me, he may be content to bide his time until I’m dispensed with in one fashion or another. Once the path is clear, he may think he can claim her without opposition.” He jeered in rampant sarcasm. “As magnanimous as the man is, he’ll probably suppose she has learned her lesson and will be grateful enough to accept his attentions. If she goes to Harthaven, he may well make another attempt to take her by force. My brother isn’t going to stand for that without a fight, and considering the number of men Fridrich brought with him to Oakley, Brandon could be killed trying to protect her.”

“Fridrich just may attempt that kind of force here if she’s working on the premises,” Farrell pointed out, not unreasonably. The possibility didn’t concern him overmuch; he just thought his friend needed to be apprised of the hazards his wife could be facing outside his husbandly protection.

“If you’re not averse to the idea, I could draw a couple of men from the lumber mill or one of my other businesses to watch over Raelynn here. She wouldn’t be able to recognize them. Neither would Fridrich. Both would think you just acquired a few extra helpers.”

“Business is certainly good enough to warrant some help,” Farrell remarked drolly before casting a glance toward his guest. “I don’t suppose you intend to send me someone who can actually thread a needle.”

Jeff chuckled. “Well, if you’re that much in need, I could send you experienced sailors who can stitch canvas with the best of them.”

“Marvelous,” Ives muttered, making much of his lack of enthusiasm. “If Charleston’s gentry suddenly takes to wearing sailcloth, my future will be secure.”

  
  “I
WILL BE HAPPY TO PROVIDE YOU WITH EMPLOYMENT
, Mrs. Birmingham,” Farrell Ives assured the young beauty a pair of days later after admitting her into his shop before opening time. Her maid was sitting quietly in the parlor, where she had a clear view of the area where Raelynn and he sat facing each other across the surface of his desk. Tizzy was there for the specific purpose of providing reasonable chaperone service to allay any rumors. Considering his bachelor’s status and the fact that gossips were wont to enlarge upon his reputation with the most outrageous stories, the presence of the maid was most needful. If anyone had taken such tales seriously, then Farrell supposed that in the last few years they had credited him with siring half the city’s infants, but to perform such a feat, he’d have been far too busy making babies to even think of carrying on his high fashion business.

Farrell swept his hand toward the tooled leather desktop where he had spread Raelynn’s drawings to better peruse them after Jeff had delivered them. It was a plain fact that the more he had studied them, the more he had become intrigued. “These fashion sketches of yours are marvelously animated, Mrs. Birmingham. They certainly leave no doubt as to your skill as a couturiere.” Formality had come into play now that he could foresee them working together. First names would no longer be used, but more than that, the lengthy appellation would serve to remind him that this very fetching lady was the wife of his best friend. As much as he might have enjoyed courting her had she been free, he was not about to endanger a close camaraderie that had been firmly established in his earlier youth. “Would it be possible for you to start immediately?”

“Immediately?” Raelynn was aghast. “You mean today?”

“Yes, of course. As I understand it, you’ll be letting a room from Elizabeth from now on, and unless you have other things planned, I thought we could get you settled in here as well. Is that at all acceptable to you?”

Raelynn leaned back in her chair, totally taken aback. When Jeff had asked for the fashion plates, he had made it known that he would be leaving them with the couturier to allow him to consider her merits as a fashion designer, but Jeff had also warned her that if Farrell didn’t think her contributions would come up to his standards, the man would likely find her other work to do in his shop. Relieving Elizabeth of some of the paperwork involved in keeping the accounts and records up to date for Ives’s Couture had been an option, although one that Raelynn hadn’t particularly relished, but having prepared herself for the worst, she had hardly expected the clothier to leap at a chance to hire her.

“Why, yes, I suppose it is, Mr. Ives. I mean, I can’t see any harm in getting started this morning. In fact, it really doesn’t matter when I begin. I have nothing else to do.” Her voice caught, and she hurriedly turned her face aside lest she break down in front of the man. The fact that Jeff had handed her into the landau earlier that morning and, with a stoic frown, had watched them depart had left her feeling much the way she had after each of her parents had died, as if her heart had been suddenly laden with heavy, iron chains.

“Is anything the matter?” Farrell queried. He had thought that she’d be overjoyed with how well he liked her drawings. Yet, he was now inclined to think the lady was on the verge of tears. “You seem distressed about something. Does the idea of working for me disturb you?”

“No, of course not, Mr. Ives. I’m delighted that you like my sketches.” Raelynn wrung her hands, wondering if she should be completely honest in her reasons for being in his shop. “You may think this strange, Mr. Ives, in view of the fact that I’ve made inquiries into the matter of my employment, but I wasn’t at all averse to being Jeffrey’s wife or, for that matter, Oakley’s mistress. If I seem at all disturbed, then be assured that it has nothing to do with a reluctance to be working here. It’s just that I realize that in the days and weeks to come, I will be disassociating myself from what I’ve come to hold dear. I really had no wish to alienate myself from my husband, but when I’m repeatedly haunted by grizzly impressions of him standing over Nell’s body with a bloody knife in his hand, I have trouble sorting things out in my mind. I don’t want to believe that Jeff is guilty of murder, yet I keep wondering, What if . . . What if . . .”

Farrell was relieved to hear her speak with such open concern about her relationship with her husband. It gave him some hope that in due time the difficulty between the couple would be resolved in a satisfactory manner. “You needn’t fret yourself unduly about the matter, Mrs. Birmingham. Your husband has the greatest concern for your well-being and is allowing you this opportunity to come to terms with your fears. I’ve known Jeff for many years, and more than any of us, whether it’s myself, Brandon, or Rhys Townsend, Jeff has a sincere fondness for most people. He’s that way about animals, too, ofttimes to the sheriff’s chagrin, but that’s another story. I know what you saw in the stables shattered your trust in your husband, but if you’d give your mind leave to rest over the matter, I’m sure the true culprit will come to light in time, and you will be reassured that Jeff couldn’t possibly have done such a deed. I should also like to add that if you think either Rhys or I are prejudiced in our friendship with your husband, then may I enlighten you by telling you that I once threatened Emory Dalton with serious mayhem if I ever saw him mistreating Elizabeth again. Though I didn’t kill him myself, I actually felt a great measure of relief as well as a deep sadness when I buried him several nights later. Jeff’s friendship means a great deal to me, but if I really thought he had killed that little girl, I’d be the first one to accuse him though it might well mean his hanging.”

“Am I being a disloyal wife because I can’t settle the matter of his innocence in my mind?” Raelynn asked in a tiny voice. Because she feared his answer, she turned her face aside and pressed a knuckle to her quivering lips, not wishing to glimpse any hint of his condemnation.

“Do you love Jeffrey?”

Her head snapped around, and for a moment she stared at her new employer as if he had taken leave of his senses. Then she lowered her gaze to the sketches on the desk and tried to swallow, only then realizing just how dry her mouth had become. Finally she bent her head forward in a disconcerted, jerky movement and uttered words that seemed distant even in her own ears. “Yes, I love him.” Though she tried to blink away the moisture that rapidly filled her eyes, the tears began spilling freely down her cheeks. “I think I’ve loved him ever since he rescued me from that passing livery. He was so gallant, so noble . . . so incredibly wonderful. . . .” As she spoke, her head came up, and a surging joy began to well up within her and to overflow in a suddenly radiant countenance. Though it was an emotion she had begun to suspect mere moments before she had gone out to the stables, her present acknowledgment was as much to herself as to the couturier. Her whisper was barely audible, yet full of feeling. “Aye, I love him very, very much.”

Amazed to find himself affected by her declaration, Farrell cleared his throat in sudden discomfiture and, feeling a need to move on to a less emotional subject, got down to the business at hand as he rose to his feet. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Birmingham, we’ll find a place for you to work on your sketches and designs in the main hall. In there you’ll be readily accessible whenever Elizabeth or any of the seamstresses have a need to speak with you about your designs or when our customers may wish to take a look at your drawings. I’ve settled on a few designs of my own for the spring season but not anywhere near the amount I’ll be needing to appease everyone who’ll be looking for something original. I’m hoping with your assistance that I’ll be able to placate all our clients.”

“I’ll gladly give as much help as I’m capable of, sir.”

“And I will likely be demanding a lot from you,” Farrell warned with a grin. “Many of my customers expect no less than my personal attention, and the more customers there are, the less time I have to spend designing new gowns. Hopefully you’ll fill in the gap.”

Thoughtfully Farrell led her to the adjoining hall and scanned several possible areas where her desk could be placed. He went to stand in each location and, from there, considered the lighting, convenience, and the overall setting before finally selecting a place near the back of the corridor that permitted a view of a carefully tended garden, which, for his own relaxation, he took care of himself. Canting his head to peer at his newest employee over his shoulder, he gave her a grin. “Are you loath to being put on full display, Mrs. Birmingham?”

Raelynn smiled hesitantly, not knowing what mischief he was about. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind as long as I don’t have to answer impertinent questions about why I’m here, if I’m
truly
estranged from my husband and if he’s
really
the father of Nell’s babe.”

A soft chuckle prefaced his remedy for that kind of situation. “I’ll do my best to shush those nosy women with gushing compliments. You’d be amazed at how quickly some women will preen in pleasure when they’re given a little manly attention.”

Raelynn had no difficulty imagining the transformation that could occur in a lady’s disposition when the one doing the complimenting was Farrell Ives. If not for Jeffrey Birmingham, she might have been just as susceptible. “I suspect you’ve been blessed with the gift of blarney, Mr. Ives.”

His lips stretched into a wide grin beneath the neatly clipped brush adorning his upper lip. “Aye, my dear mother was as Irish as Dublin itself. I learned it well from her, God rest her soul.”

“You did at that, Mr. Ives,” Raelynn readily agreed with a chuckle.

Farrell stroked his beard musefully as he lent his attention this time to determining the best angle for situating her desk in the spot he had selected. He considered the closest brass chandelier of a pair that hung from the high ceiling and decided that if her desk was placed slightly behind it, the fixture would cast more light on her work. She would also be framed by the expanse of windows overlooking the garden. “This is where I shall put you, Mrs. Birmingham,” he announced, stepping into the spot to better mark it for her benefit. “A beautiful, well-garbed woman will gain the attention she rightly deserves here in this charming setting. You’ll have the windows overlooking the garden to your back, which will offer natural light, while, in front of the desk, the chandelier will illumine your comely presence. None of our customers will be able to miss seeing you, and, of course, to get to you, they’ll have to pass the tables where all of our most costly fabrics are displayed.”