Payton's Woman (14 page)

The doorman gripped his
arm. “Sir, I’m sorry, but the lady doesn’t want you in the carriage with her.”

Payton glanced at the
doorman and then Julia. “Have I offended you somehow?” he asked in an innocent
voice.

“You most certainly
have. You’re crude and offensive, and your manners are completely intolerable.”

“Me?” His eyebrows rose,
as if shocked at her accusation. “A man of courage and honor, behaving rudely?”

“Yes, you,” she said. “Now
get away from the carriage so I can leave.”

Payton handed the driver
money. “Take the lady home the long way so she’ll have time to cool down before
she gets there.”

He looked at Julia and,
putting two fingers to his forehead, made a slight saluting gesture as the
carriage pulled away. He also had a very large grin on his face.

She rubbed at her hand. Her
palm still stung from smacking his face. She wondered if his cheek hurt just as
badly. She had not intended to hit him so hard, but he’d become increasing
obnoxious. He’d acted as though he’d wanted her to slap him. He’d even asked
for her to do so. From Sylvia’s descriptive stories of her lustful adventures,
Julia knew some men enjoyed being mistreated, even physically abused. She
wondered if Payton had a propensity toward that sort of deviant behavior. His lewd
actions had left her no choice but to slap him. When she’d complied, he’d
appeared happy. He’d had that silly grin on his face.

Her head throbbed. Her
stomach bunched into a knot. She feared a sick headache would soon develop. The
dinner she’d just consumed threatened to turn on her. She rubbed her hand over
her belly, but it didn’t relieve the anxiety churning inside. She tried to calm
herself by not thinking of Payton, but that seemed an impossible task. So much
had happened tonight that she couldn’t think straight.

Earlier in the
restaurant, he’d talked about his feelings for her. Her mind seemed fuzzy with
the details, but had he actually admitted he loved her? Her head shook in
denial. His conduct tonight proved otherwise. If this was an example of his
love, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

She had been right about
him all along. He only wanted to get her into his bed. And he didn’t seem
adverse to using force. His outlandish attempt to rip open her gown in front of
the doorman, and everyone else on the street, convinced her of that. Even
though he denied it, his motives were the same as every other man who chased
after her. They promised their love, but all they were capable of displaying
was their lust.

She slumped back against
the cushions. Her lower lip quivered. Her eyes misted over with tears. This
time Payton really was gone from her life. After his crude actions and her
response to him, she felt certain she’d never see him again.

When the carriage
stopped in front of Betsy’s house, her head still throbbed. The extended ride
around the park had not calmed her. Her body shook with anger when she recalled
the way he’d grabbed her and demanded she give herself to him. As she climbed down
with the assistance of the driver, she noticed another conveyance turn into the
alleyway that led to the carriage shed behind the main house. Mr. Gilbert had
followed her from the restaurant.

A light burned in the
study. She didn’t know if Betsy expected her to report immediately upon her
return, but she had no intention of doing so. She hurried to the back entrance;
she wanted to go inside and up to her room as quickly as possible without being
seen.

When she reached the
steps that led to the door, she heard the rustle of leaves coming from the
bushes by the corner of the house. Startled that someone might be hiding there,
she froze in her tracks. Her mind sorted out her options. She could chance
running up the steps to the safety of the house, or she could turn and run to
the front of the house to get away from whatever—or whoever—lurked in the shrubbery.

Before she could move, a
shadowy figure emerged from behind the bushes. The tall trees surrounding the
house prevented any illuminate from shining on the man dressed in black, but
she recognized his form. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Payton, you frightened
me.”

Without speaking, he
walked toward her, his stride brisk, his manner determined.

Memories of his brutish
behavior at the restaurant returned in a rush. Was he here to finish what he
started? Did he intend to rip off her clothes and force himself upon her?

“Stay away from me.”

Once more she contemplated
her escape options, but he approached her so quickly she had didn’t have time
to react.

He grabbed her arms and
pulled her into the deep shadows beside the house.

She struggled to free
herself from his grasp, but he held her tightly. His arm wrapped around her
body to subdue her movement. His other hand clasped over her mouth to prevent
her from screaming for help.

“Easy, Julia. It’s just
me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He removed his hand from
her mouth when she quit struggling.

“I don’t believe
anything you say.” She tried to keep her tone to a harsh whisper, but her voice
crackled with emotion. “You’re rude and vulgar, and I have no respect for you
anymore.”

“Are you serious?” His voice
was a tight whisper. “I thought you understood what I was doing.”

“I understood perfectly.
You tried to force me to go to your hotel room and spend the night with you.”

“No, no, Angel. I’d
never force you. You must know that by now. Didn’t you hear me say we needed to
put on a show for Betsy’s coachman? That’s all I was doing. I thought you were
playing along with me.”

“You were just
playacting?” She didn’t need to hear him speak to confirm it. Her nerves were
so tightly wrapped that her body came unraveled all at once. Her legs went
limp. Her body swayed, and she collapsed against his chest. His strong arms prevented
her from crashing to the ground.

“Of course I was.” He
made a slight laugh that reverberated in his chest. “You don’t think I’d want
you to deliberately hit me for no good reason. I already know how hard you can
punch.”

“Oh, Payton.” She
slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed him to her. “I was so angry with
the way you acted that I was afraid I was going to be sick.”

“I’m sorry.” His hands
rubbed over her back in a soothing gesture. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You’re so convincing
with your playacting, you ought to go on the stage.” She sniffed back a sob.
When she attempted to blot her tears on his shirtfront, he handed her his handkerchief.

“You were pretty
convincing yourself, but I guess you weren’t acting.”

“If I was, I wouldn’t
have slapped you so hard.”

“Then it’s just as well
you didn’t know. Otherwise, the coachman might not have believed our little
act.”

Suddenly, his voice
turned serious. “You can’t stay here. I want you to leave with me now.”

She gasped. “I’m not
going to your hotel room.”

“That’s not what I mean.
This is getting too dangerous. I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.”

“I’m not the one whose
life has been threatened. It’s you. That’s why I want you to leave Sacramento.”

“I’m not leaving. And I’m
certainly not leaving you alone here with Betsy Collins.” He gripped her upper
arms and tipped her back, forcing her to look at his face. “Leave with me now.
I’ll take care of you, and you won’t have to work for her any longer.”

“Take care of me?” she repeated,
not entirely convinced everything had been playacting on his part. “You want me
to be your mistress?”

“That’s not what I’m
suggesting. I know people you can stay with. Good people.” When she shook her
head, he squeezed her arms tighter and gave her a shake. “Don’t you realize the
danger you’re in?”

“I’m not in any worse
danger than you are, and you won’t leave.”

“I can take care of
myself, but you’re a different matter. You’ve needed my help since the first
night I met you.”

“That’s not entirely
true, but even if you’re right, I can’t leave just yet. I only need a few more
weeks.”

He let out an
exasperated sigh. “What I ought to do is drag you away from here even with you
kicking and screaming.”

“Please, don’t do that.
I’ve had all the excitement I can handle for one night. You’ll just have to
believe me when I say I’m not going to get into any more trouble.”

“Trust you to stay out
of trouble?” His voice carried a hint of amusement. “Not bloody likely.”

Chapter Thirteen

Julia pulled back the
lace curtain and peered out the window to see the activity by the curb. Betsy scurried
into the coach and flopped back against the cushions. Mr. Gilbert jumped into
the driver’s box and snapped the harness traces. The horse pulled the carriage
down the street. Their speed increased to a brisk trot by the time they reached
the end of the block. When the coach disappeared around the corner, she moved
from the window.

Betsy had dashed out of
the house quite easily for a woman with an injured knee. Up to that moment,
things had returned to the usual, tedious routine of being her secretary.

With yesterday being
Julia’s day off, it had been quiet. She had spent the morning at worship
service. Her afternoon had been equally uneventful. She’d had Sunday dinner
with a church elder and his family.

She hadn’t seen Payton
since Saturday night. He’d wanted to meet her in the park the next morning, but
she’d refused. She hoped by cutting off any further contact with him, he’d
leave Sacramento.

Betsy didn’t seem eager
for her to see Payton again either. She’d not been able to avoid her
questioning that night, but she’d relayed the story Payton had wanted her to
give—that he claimed Dunbar owed him something, but nothing more. She’d also
told Betsy he’d tried to force his attentions on her. She then relayed how she’d
slapped his face and came home alone.

During the interrogation,
Mr. Gilbert had come into the study and confirmed everything she’d said. The
coachman had added his own comment about Payton. He thought him coarse and
vulgar with poor moral character. Julia hadn’t bothered to correct him since
that was exactly the opinion Payton had wanted to convey.

Now something strange
seemed to be afoot. Right after reading that mysterious letter, Betsy’s
expression had paled. Then she’d dashed around the house in a frightful tizzy.

Strict orders concerning
the mail had been give to Julia from the beginning of her employment as a
secretary. She’d been instructed never to open a letter addressed to anyone
other than Elizabeth Collins.

Julia had obediently
done that this morning. She’d reached across the desk and handed her the envelope
addressed to “Betsy Dunbar Collins” as soon as she’d found it mixed in with the
rest of the mail.

Mrs. Collins had no
sooner opened the letter, than she’d shoved it into the desk drawer, locked it,
and ordered Julia to have her carriage brought around. She’d then shouted for Elsie
to fetch her hat and cloak.

When Julia had reminded
her that Sylvia Morgan would be here in less than an hour, Betsy had been so
distressed that she’d blurted out Sylvia was the very person she intended to
visit.

Julia had then smiled to
herself. Everyone would be out of her way for a while. That would allow her an
opportunity to see the contents of the letter that had sent Betsy fleeing from
the house.

As soon as she heard the
back door slam, she knew the maid and housekeeper were gone. She dashed up to
her room. In her haste, the navy blue skirt and white petticoat wrapped around
her legs. She lifted them to her knees so she wouldn’t trip on the steps. She
grabbed the key hidden behind the small mirror and rushed back downstairs.

Making a copy of the key
had not been an easy task, but she had chanced it. She’d traced the outline on
a blank piece of paper when Betsy had stepped out of the room. Then, over the
next several days, she’d filed down a similar key until it matched the drawing
she’d made. With the duplicate complete, she had access to all Betsy’s unholy secrets.

She slipped into the
study and left the door ajar so she could listen for sounds of someone moving
through the house, although she felt relatively safe.

The coachman had driven Betsy
to Sylvia’s house. Elsie and the housekeeper had hurried out almost as quickly
in the opposite direction so they could catch up on the neighborhood gossip. That
left the old Chinese gardener and his helper in the front yard. The French chef
didn’t speak English, plus he guarded his privacy with fanatic insistence. He
stayed cloistered in the kitchen, so she didn’t fear him wandering through the
house.

The key fit snugly into
the desk lock. With just a tiny twist, the entire contents lay at her
fingertips. Carefully, she searched through the drawer. She lifted papers until
she found the letter.

As she removed the white
sheet of paper from the envelope, a newspaper clipping fell out and floated to
the carpet. She read the letter before bothering to retrieve the clipping.

Dear Betsy,

Thought you might be
interested in this notice. I recall him being a steady customer. Evidently he
could no longer bear to live without your excellent services. Ha-ha

Yours truly,

Sugar Johnson

Puzzled by the message, Julia
read it once more. How could a letter that ended with a laugh possibly upset Betsy
so greatly?

She bent down to
retrieve the clipping, but when she did, her body froze in place. Mere inches
from her fingertips lay the obituary notice of Wilbur Hennigan. Too shocked to
move, she continued to stare at the notice. She closed her eyes and forced her lungs
to take a breath. No one knew she’d been with Hennigan that night. No one
except Payton. But she trusted him. The rest were nothing but a pack of
murderous thieves and debauchers.