Tomorrow's Dreams (4 page)

Without a word he turned on his heels and followed her command. As the door closed behind him, Penelope surrendered to her sorrow.

Chapter 3

Penelope was miserable, more miserable than she'd ever been in her life. Not only was she soul-sick and heartbroken; her back felt as if it were being wrenched on a rack, and her stomach roiled with unrelenting queasiness.

Something was dreadfully wrong with her, she was sure of it.

After performing a cursory examination the night before, Dr. Goodwin, the physician who had been fetched by the stage manager after she'd fainted, had sternly ordered her to come to his office first thing in the morning. Though his tone had been cheerful and his smile reassuring, he'd evaded all her questions regarding her condition by saying that he needed to examine her further before he could make a conclusive diagnosis.

But she hadn't been fooled. No, not for a second. She was certain she'd detected an underlying note of concern beneath the matter-of-fact calm of his voice.

Now, as she sat in his cozy office, waiting for him to report the findings from the embarrassingly thorough examination he'd just performed, Penelope wondered if perhaps she was dying. After all, how could she possibly feel this wretched and not have one foot in the grave?

Nervously she plucked at the beaded purse on her lap, considering the ghastly possibility. Then she released a choked sob. Yes, that had to be the case. She was dying. Dr. Goodwin had probably suspected as much last night and was simply stalling for time while he thought of a tactful way to tell her.

Sobbing again, she reached around and rubbed at her sore lower back. As she attempted to ease the dull ache through the thick barrier of her gown and corset, she mournfully wondered how Seth would react to the news of her death.

He would hear of it, that much was certain, even if their paths never again crossed during the pitifully brief time she had left on the earth. After all, her older brother, Jake, was his best friend and business partner.

Heaving a dejected little sigh, she dropped her hand from her back. Would the heartless—and she knew for sure after last night that he had no heart—Mr. Tyler care that she'd died? Would he feel even a smidgen of guilt or regret over all the terrible things he'd said during their final moments together?

She released another sigh, this one heavier, and settled back into the tapestry-upholstered wing chair. She hoped he'd be devastated by the news. It would serve him right to suffer as badly as he was now making her suffer. If he wept a hundred times more tears than she'd shed during the previous night, it wouldn't be penitence enough in her mind.

Absently she fidgeted with the beaded strap handle of her purse, her spirits lifting slightly as she imagined a very remorseful Seth at her funeral.

She would look beautiful, of course, like an angel, dressed in her new ivory silk and lace Worth gown. Clutching her cold, lifeless hand in his, he would fervently whisper words of love and regret, his anguish increasing a tenfold as he reminded himself that his declarations came too late. And as he pressed kisses on her death-paled lips, keening his sorrow between his sobs, he would wish that he too were dead, for only death could end the torment of knowing that he had lost her forever. Just as she was envisioning a broken and wailing Seth being wrestled away from her casket by her brother, Dr. Goodwin entered the office.

Drawing her mind from her morbid, yet satisfying daydream, Penelope looked up at the doctor. There was a no-nonsense air of competence about the gray-haired man that had instantly instilled a sense of trust in her. Right now his face wore a troubled frown … not an expression she found particularly reassuring.

After setting himself into his leather desk chair, he sat in silence for several moments, peering at her through the thick lenses of his spectacles as if unsure how to begin. Harrumphing once, he finally spoke. “Miss Parrish—it is Miss, isn't it?”

Oddly enough, Penelope could have sworn that she saw a spark of hope flash in his eyes as he inquired as to her marital status. Giving him a questioning look, she nodded. “It's Miss.”

“Ah … yes … I see …” He cleared his throat loudly, as if plagued with the world's most stubborn frog. When he continued to speak, his expression was every bit as disconcerted as if he'd indeed swallowed one of the web-footed creatures. “May I be so bold as to ask if you have any—
har-rumph!
—plans to be married in the near future?”

The day before yesterday, she could have joyfully and honestly replied, “Yes. I'm to be married on December twenty-third.” But now …

Overwhelmed with a wrenching sense of loss, Penelope stared down at her purse strap, which she'd somehow managed to knot around her index finger, hiding the moisture in her eyes. “No. I have no wedding plans.” Her voice trembled with unshed tears.

She heard him release a heavy sigh. “Then I'm afraid I have some very distressing news for you. It seems you're expecting a baby. Your delicate condition is why you fainted last night.”

Penelope's gaze flew to his face, and she could feel her jaw drop. She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd told her that she was suffering from some hideous and exotic disease like leprosy or the bubonic plague. “A b-baby?” she stuttered. “How can I be expecting a baby?”

Dr. Goodwin looked nonplussed at that. “Surely you're not trying to tell me that you're ignorant of the facts of life?”

“Of course not. I know …” Penelope gave the knotted strap around her finger an agitated tug. “My sister-in-law is a doctor, and she explained the … uh … ways between men and women to me.”

“A female doctor?” He stared at her, visibly taken aback by her revelation. “
Har-rumph!
Yes … er … in that case, I assume you know that your condition comes from having relations with a man?”

“Yes, but I didn't think …” She shook her head helplessly.

“It's apparent that you didn't think,” he pointed out dryly. “If you had, you would have considered the consequences of such actions and restrained your … er … carnal impulses.”

Penelope's cheeks burned at the condemnation in his tone. “What I don't understand is why I didn't realize”—she gestured toward her belly, unwilling to voice her shameful condition.

The doctor frowned, but more in an expression of perplexity than censure. “Surely you've noticed changes in your body?”

“Changes?”

“Such as a cessation of your menses. When was the last time you had your monthlies?”

“A couple of months ago”—she shrugged—“I think. I don't know. I've never been, well, regular.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And did you have intimate relations around two months ago?”

“Yes, but it was my first time. I was sure that it was impossible to get pregnant the first time.”

“Is that what the female doctor told you?”

“No, of course not. But—”

“There are no ‘buts' about it,” he interjected firmly. “You got caught your first time—not an uncommon occurrence, I might add—and according to my calculations, your baby will be born mid-September.”

Penelope's initial numbness gave way to a full-blown case of panic. “But I can't have a baby!” she blurted out wildly. “It's impossible!” She tugged the delicate purse strap so hard that it snapped, sending a smattering of beads flying every which way.

“You have no choice in the matter. Whether or not you want to, you're having a baby in the fall.”

Dropping the broken strap to her lap, Penelope reached out and clutched at the edge of his desk. “Whatever am I going to do?” she asked in a strangled whisper, her gaze beseeching.

The doctor tapped his index finger against his chin as he seemed to consider her plight. “You could marry the baby's father,” he counseled. Abruptly his finger stilled, and he shot her a censorious look. “The father isn't already married, is he?”

“No, he's not married,” Penelope admitted miserably, letting her hands drop back to her lap with a defeated air. Nor was there any way, come hell or high water, that Seth would marry her.

“Then, I suggest you contact him immediately and demand that he do the decent thing.”

Penelope stared at the doctor as aghast as if he'd told her to buy a shotgun and force her groom to the altar. She could just imagine Seth's reaction if she were to give him this particular piece of news. After he got over his cynical amusement, he'd tell her, in the cruelest possible terms, that she'd gotten exactly what she deserved for carrying on like a whore. And no matter how fervently she swore that the child was his, which unquestionably it was, he would never believe her.

With dark hopelessness seeping into her soul, she murmured, “Marrying the father is out of the question. We've had differences that would make a marriage between us impossible.”

“I see,” he replied, although by his tone and expression it was obvious that he didn't see at all. Shaking his head in a resigned fashion, he said, “Since you refuse to marry your child's father, the only thing left for you to do is to throw yourself on the mercy of your family. I assume you do have a family?” He eyed her inquisitively from behind his thick lenses.

She nodded, a lump of tears swelling in her throat.
Her family. Jake and Hallie
. They, too, were an option she preferred not to consider. While Hallie would probably be sympathetic, the thought of facing her brother's pain and disappointment at this mess was every bit as intimidating as confessing her condition to Seth. Worse yet, knowing Jake, he wouldn't give her a moment's peace until she revealed the identity of the baby's father. Once he found out who it was, he'd confront Seth.

Penelope closed her eyes, humiliated by the very idea. When Seth told her brother his version of the events leading to their broken engagement, thus branding her the worse sort of a whore, Jake would feel obligated to defend her honor.

That prospect made her tremble. Knowing her overprotective brother, he would insist on challenging Seth to a duel, if he didn't simply shoot him dead on the spot. The thought of her adored brother being hurt or killed in a duel, or being hanged for murdering Seth, was more than she could bear … not to mention how irrationally devastated she'd be if something happened to the heartless Mr. Tyler.

Feeling as if someone had just pulled the earth out from beneath her feet, Penelope lifted her finger to her mouth and gnawed on her fingernail. No. No matter what happened, she simply couldn't involve her family in this problem.

Of course, she'd have to write them of her broken engagement, for they were even now planning a grand wedding in San Francisco. But she would have to do it in a manner that made it sound like both she and Seth had simply had a change of heart. With luck, her letter would reach San Francisco before Seth did.

Dropping her hand from her mouth, she slipped it beneath her purse and superstitiously crossed her fingers. If Lady Luck was truly on her side, Seth would corroborate her story if Jake broached the subject. As for the baby …

“Are you all right, Miss Parrish?” Dr. Goodwin was leaning across his desk, peering anxiously at her face. “You're very pale all of a sudden. You're not going to faint again, are you?”

She released a shaky laugh. “Of course not. Despite what happened last night, I'm not in the habit of swooning.”

“Perhaps. But when a women is in a delicate—”

Just then, a small, pleasant-looking woman who had been introduced to Penelope as the doctor's wife burst into the room. “You must come right away, Tony! There is a child out here who was just hit by a dray wagon, and she's in a terrible way!”

The doctor bounded to his feet. “Have the child taken to my surgery immediately.” As she dashed off to do his bidding, his gaze returned to Penelope. “I hope you'll consider my advice, Miss Parrish. This world is no place for a woman alone, much less a pregnant one.”

“I will,” she promised, crossing her fingers again, this time to cancel out her falsehood.

“Good.” He gave her a nod of approval as he came around his desk to stand by her chair. “There are hundreds of unconscionable scoundrels in this city who prey on women in your condition. I would hate for someone as lovely and talented as you to fall into their clutches.” He reached down and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Now, if you'll excuse me?”

Clutching her ruined purse, Penelope rose to her feet. “Of course, Doctor, and thank you. You've been more than kind.” She forced a tremulous smile on her lips as she held out her hand.

Dr. Goodwin took her proffered hand in his and gave it a warm squeeze. “Everything will be fine. Just you wait and see.”

Penelope nodded, although she had a hunch that for her, things would never again be fine.

Giving her hand a final squeeze, he added, “Count your blessings that you're not alone in the world. So many of the women I see in your condition are not so fortunate.”

As the doctor disappeared through the door, Penelope's false smile faded. She was more alone than he would ever know.

Trick of Fate

Oh, then, why if I was fated

From the height of joy to fall,

Must I still those happy moments

In my hour of pain recall?

—
Le Nozze di Figaro

Chapter 4

D
ENVER
, C
OLORADO
T
ERRITORY
, 1870

She was the woman he'd been dreaming of all his life. Now that he had found her, he intended to destroy her.

Louisa Vanderlyn
. Seth's eyes narrowed, his gaze shrewdly appraising. She walked with a proud, almost military bearing, and even from his vantage point across the street, he got an impression of cool command. It ever there was a woman in control of her destiny, it was Louisa Vanderlyn.