The Vow (34 page)
Hannah hoisted Lizzie into her arms. “He’s sweet on Georgia, too, and sees you as his rival.”
James rocked back on his heels in surprise. “Ben sweet on my Georgia?”
Then he nodded ruefully. “The comb he gave her for Christmas… I should have realized…but I’m such a dunce when it comes to reading people.”
“No, you’re merely a man in love wearing blinders. Reiver spoke to him, and while he’s heartbroken, he realizes that Georgia is already spoken for.”
James hoped that after today Georgia would be more than spoken for.
When she appeared at the door in her new bonnet trimmed inside the brim with copper-colored ruching and a big satin bow tied under her chin, James found it difficult to breathe.
Georgia smiled at him. “Shall we go?”
He nodded and offered her his arm.
Once outside, Georgia said, “Now, what is this important something that you have to do?”
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“You’ll see.” James handed her into the carriage and got in beside her. He drove in silence for ten minutes, skirting the town, then stopped and handed Georgia down.
“What a lovely spot,” she said, looking around at the small, still pond surrounded by magnificent white birches and maples.
“I used to come here often as a boy,” he explained, “when I needed solitude.” He looked around. “It’s so tranquil.”
He took Georgia’s hand and led her over to a collection of boulders at the water’s edge.
One bore an indentation that created a natural seat. “I used to pretend that I was a king, and this was my throne.” He ducked his head. “Since you’re as beautiful as a queen, why don’t you sit there today?”
Georgia sat down and giggled. “Queen Georgia of Coldwater…sounds rather grand for such a simple country girl, doesn’t it?”
“You are a queen to me,” James said gravely. He took her hand and fell down on one knee. “And I’d like to make you my wife, if you’ll have me.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. “Oh, James…I—I don’t know what to say.”
She’s going to refuse me
, he thought, panicking.
She thinks I’m too old.
“I—I realize that we haven’t known each other for very long,” he began, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth again, “but I do love you, Georgia, and I know I could make you happy, if—”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, James.”
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“You will?” He jumped to his feet, his heart pounding out of control. Then he grasped a laughing, beaming Georgia around the waist and helped her down from the “throne”, twirling her around before her feet could touch the ground.
Dizzy with happiness, he set her down and hugged her. “You have made me the happiest man in Coldwater!”
“And you have made me the happiest woman on the face of the Earth.”
Georgia wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him.
With those mismatched lips pressed delightfully against his, James wanted to kiss her deeply with his tongue, as the Countess’s girls had taught him, but he restrained himself. There would be time enough for that and much more once they were wed.
He pulled away.
Georgia looked at him, her great hazel eyes hurt. “Don’t you like my kisses, James?”
“I like them fine.” He blushed. “Too well.”
She smiled. “You’re my betrothed now. You may kiss me as much as you like.”
James stared at the tips of his shoes. “I fear that if I do that I’ll turn into the kind of man who shamed you.”
Georgia’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, James, you could never be like him if you tried. Anything you did would never shame me.”
“I still want to wait until we’re married.”
She smiled up at him. “Then we had better marry quickly, or I shall go out of my mind.”
He drew her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. “I’d like my brother Samuel to come to the wedding.”
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“Mrs. Shaw told me about him. He’s the artist who did that beautiful picture of her and went to California.”
“Now he’s in Australia, according to the letter Benjamin received last month.”
Georgia stood back and smiled. “Before we can invite your brother to our wedding, we have to tell the others. Perhaps we can make an announcement tonight at dinner.”
James thought of Benjamin and shook his head. “I’d rather tell them personally, if you don’t mind.”
“Just as long as you tell them.”
James grinned and kissed her again.
Benjamin took the news of his uncle’s betrothal better than Hannah expected.
When Reiver told him that evening before dinner, the stalwart Benjamin turned pale and his eyes grew unnaturally bright, then he pulled himself together and said that he wished James and Georgia every happiness.
He repeated his good wishes that evening at the dinner table, making Hannah glow with pride at her son’s newfound maturity.
“When do you wish to marry?” Hannah asked them. “Fall is a beautiful time of year for a wedding.”
James said, “We want to invite Samuel, so we’d wait until he could come home.”
Hannah tensed, her eyes darting to the head of the table, where Reiver sat as still as stone.
“I wouldn’t have my heart set on it,” Reiver said.
Davey said, “I don’t think Uncle Samuel is ever coming back.”
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“Why should he?” Mrs. Hardy muttered. “He’s probably happier where he is.”
Hannah took another sip of soup, her mind whirling. Samuel back in Coldwater…
Georgia said, “There must be some way we could tell him.” She glanced at her fiancé. “James does have his heart set on his brother being here for our wedding.”
“I could write him another letter,” Benjamin suggested.
“No, I shall,” Hannah said, avoiding looking at her husband. “But you two mustn’t get your hopes up. Australia is a long journey to make just to come home for a wedding.”
“Perhaps Uncle Samuel would come home for good,” Davey suggested.
But Hannah knew Reiver would never allow that.
Later that evening, just as Hannah was about to go upstairs, Reiver stopped her in the downstairs hall.
He extended his hand. “Come for a walk with me. It’s a beautiful moonlit night.”
She eyed his hand warily before letting him tuck her own through the crook of his arm.
Outside, a huge full moon hanging low in the star-strewn sky almost rivaled the sun in brightness, though this light was cool and silvery. Hannah and Reiver needed no lamp to guide them as they strolled around Mulberry Hill, now carpeted with green spring grass instead of snow.
She waited until they were far enough away from the house to be overheard before saying, “Are you going to let Samuel come home for James’s wedding?”
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“Why not?” Reiver replied. “He’s been gone for almost seven years.” He looked at Hannah, his expression in shadow and therefore unreadable. “I’m assuming that you don’t feel the same way about him.”
“I don’t.” She looked away.
“I’m delighted to hear it. Otherwise, having him here would prove most awkward for all concerned.”
They walked on in silence.
Suddenly Reiver stopped and turned to face Hannah, his blue eyes looking black in the moonlight. “Write to Samuel and invite him to James’s wedding. Tell him that I want to let bygones be bygones between us, and that he’s more than welcome to come back to Coldwater.”
Hannah fought to keep her voice soft and level so it wouldn’t carry. “Why don’t you just let sleeping dogs lie?” When he raised his brows, she plunged on.
“I have no more feelings for Samuel, but perhaps he still harbors deep feelings for me.”
“As long as you don’t reciprocate them, there should be no problem.” He offered her his arm. “It’s getting late. Shall we go back?”
Hannah placed her hand on his arm, and they strolled back to the house.
Once she was alone in her bedroom, she sat up in bed and hugged her knees.
Why was Reiver suddenly championing Samuel’s return? Hannah refused to believe that her proud husband was ready to forgive and forget.
Vivid memories she had suppressed for years assaulted her. Samuel’s friendship during that lonely, confusing first year of her marriage, his many kindnesses to simple Abigail, that wild afternoon in his studio when he had burned away her feelings of worthlessness in a heated blaze of passion…
To have him back in Coldwater…how would she ever endure it?
She wrote to Samuel the following morning.
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A few weeks later Hannah was filling in for an absent worker in the packing room when Reiver burst in, his face flushed with excitement.
“Hannah, let someone else do that,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to you.”
She looked up from her work. “There is no one else to do this. Bridget is sick, and this shipment has got to go out today.”
“Then let it wait.” He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently.
Hannah rose and followed him outside into the warm June morning, matching his long, quick stride. “Now, what is it that you have to discuss with me?”
“Nate Fisher is selling the Bickford farm.”
Hannah stopped and stared at Reiver, who kept on walking. When he realized that she wasn’t following, he stopped and turned.
She asked, “Who told you this? And why is he selling? Uncle Ezra’s grandfather established that farm. It’s been in the family for over a century.”
“Roger Jones told me when I went to have Racer shod this morning,” Reiver replied. “He heard it from Nate himself just yesterday. Apparently Nate thinks there’s no future in Coldwater, so he’s selling out, packing up and taking his family out west.”
She caught up to Reiver. “I can see that this news interests you. May I ask why?”
“Because I want to buy that farm.”
Hannah’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Buy it?” Before Reiver could say a word, she added, “Of course. To expand Shaw Silks further someday.”
“You understand.”
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“Why are you so surprised? I doubt that you would want to make farmers out of Benjamin and Davey.”
“Certainly not.” He looked back at the mill, his eyes shining with pride. “All this will be theirs one day.” He turned back to her. “So, do I have your permission to buy it?”
“You’re actually asking my permission?”
“You do own controlling interest in the mill.”
Hannah gathered her skirts and walked toward the house. “You surprise me.
I had expected demands from you, not a request.”
He shrugged. “What good will demanding do? We’ll just start arguing, and I’m tired of fighting with you.”
“Oh, I had thought you rather enjoyed our arguments.”
He regarded her with a certain gravity. “You’re wrong.”
What sort of game is he playing now? Hannah wondered, walking the rest of the way back to the house in silence. It was so unlike Reiver to request anything of her. He usually ran the mill as he saw fit, trying to get away with as much as possible, then arguing with her when she stated any objections. It was as if he were finally acknowledging her control of his mill, and that made her suspect his motives all the more.
Once back in the house, Hannah got out the account books and did some quick calculations while Reiver waited. “If you want to buy the farm, we’ll have to get a loan,” she said.
“You’ll agree to it?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’ll visit some Hartford banks and see about it.” He smiled ruefully.
“All except Tuttle Senior’s, of course.”
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“Quite prudent of you, under the circumstances.” Hannah rose. “Now I shall get back to my packing.”
Walking past Reiver, Hannah was surprised when he placed a restraining hand on her arm. He said, “Thank you for not fighting me on this, Hannah.”
“I want what’s best for Shaw Silks, too. If you think acquiring the Bickford farm will benefit us in the future, then go ahead.”
“I will.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and left.
Back in the packing room, listening to the hum and clatter of the looms and feeling the floor vibrate beneath her feet, Hannah pondered the subtle change in her husband over the last few months. First he seemed willing to allow Samuel to come home. Now he had actually consulted her first before going ahead with a project for the mill.
That kiss on the cheek had been the biggest surprise of all since their physical relationship had died long ago.
“We’ll see, Reiver Shaw,” she said aloud, stacking spools of thread in their boxes. “We’ll see.”
Reiver flung his silk top hat across the kitchen, his face flushed and his stocky form taut with rage. “None of the banks will lend me any money.”
Hannah placed a loaf of freshly baked bread next to the smoked ham in the basket she intended to bring to poor sick Bridget’s family. “That’s surprising.
How many banks did you go to?”
“Every one in Hartford.” He raked his hand through his hair. “And they all turned me down. They’re all cautious with this talk of a possible insurrection. If I manufactured armaments, like Colt or Smith and Wesson, they’d be happy to loan me as much money as I needed.”
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Hannah added a jar of blueberry preserves to the basket. “Well, I guess that puts an end to our buying Nate’s farm.”
Reiver paced the kitchen like a caged panther. “Something’s not right. Shaw Silks is a solvent company with a bright future. There’s no reason any bank should turn us down for a loan. Unless…” He rubbed his chin.
Hannah looked up from her task. “Unless what?”
“Unless someone told them not to.”