Marry Me (34 page)

“If I agree, Whitley still would have to approve.”

“Like hell.”

She flinched. “How can you say that?”

“She’s my
sister,
Rhyne. I will listen to her opinion, but she can have nothing to say that will alter my decision–or yours.”

“Your happiness is important to her.” “As hers is to me.”

“What I mean is, she’ll have to believe that this marriage will make you happy.”

“Of course she’ll believe it. Why wouldn’t she?”

Because it might not be true.
Rhyne kept the troublesome thought to herself. She gently removed herself from Cole’s embrace and took a step back so she was out of his reach.

He wanted to ask if he could expect her to come to his bed this evening, but he restrained himself. She hadn’t been in his room except to change the sheets and put away his clothes since the night he went to Miss Adele’s. If it hadn’t been for the trip out to see Judah, Cole wasn’t sure she’d be talking to him yet. In his mind, the surest way to keep her from returning to his bed was to raise the subject. As he was hardly in a position to dictate more terms, he cautioned himself again to wait her out.

“I need to get dinner started,” she said.

Cole let her go. Truly, he thought, was there any other choice?

Rhyne sat with her back to the other patrons in the Commodore’s dining room. She sipped her tea and ignored the low-pitched conversations going on behind her. There was a time when she would have assumed she was the subject of every one of those discussions, but that had gradually changed. Oddly enough, as she became surer of herself, she also came to realize that folks had better things to talk about than what she was doing. She no longer went looking for a nose to put out of joint to match her own.

“May I join you?”

Rhyne looked up to find Rose Beatty standing beside her table. “Yes, of course.”

“You don’t have to say that to be mannerly,” said Rose. “I won’t take it as a slight.”

“No. I mean it.”

Rose swung her skirts to the side and sat. She motioned to one of the waiters and placed her order. When he was gone, she confided to Rhyne. “I only stopped in because I wanted to be alone. Sometimes there’s no better way to do it than with other people around.” She frowned as she removed her gloves. “Did that make any sense at all?”

“It did to me.”

“Good. Because there’s days I only understand about half of what I’m saying. If Will doesn’t catch the other half, there’s no help for us.”

Rhyne’s heart felt a little lighter than it had before Rose joined her. She hadn’t realized how close she’d been to being purely miserable.

Rose put a hand on her forearm. “Drink your tea. Don’t wait on my account. Yours will grow cold by the time mine arrives.” She glanced around the room. As it was after luncheon and well before dinner, not many of the tables were occupied. “Mostly men up from Denver for the gambling,” she said, returning her attention to Rhyne. “But you probably noticed that.”

Rhyne nodded but didn’t offer an opinion.

“They come for the high stakes games at the Miner Key,” said Rose. “Everyone thinks they’re a card sharp until they get in a game with the locals.” She sighed and regarded Rhyne’s profile. “Enough of that. I heard about what you did out at your pa’s for Wyatt and the doctor. I thought I should tell you it’s appreciated. The sheriff’s been my friend for a lot of years. I know you’d have done the same if it had been Will who’d gone along. And I don’t think you’ll find anyone with a bad word to say about Dr. Monroe. Even Sid Walker’s stopped complaining.”

“I didn’t realize that everyone knew. About what happened at Judah’s, I mean.”

“I won’t take that as an insult, since I don’t believe you meant it that way, but you should know by now that I’m
not
everyone. Oh, no. No apology. I said you didn’t intend an insult, didn’t I?” Rose’s tea arrived. She added cream and sugar to her cup and sipped. “I know what went on because that no-account Beatty boy told me, and he knows because Wyatt had to tell him. Rachel knows, of course, but that’s it. End of the trail.”

That wasn’t so bad, Rhyne decided. “Did your husband tell you that Willoughby didn’t die?” “Who’s Willoughby?”

“The mouse that gorged himself on currant cake. Whitley named him.”

“Oh. Well then, yes. I did hear the mouse lived. Doesn’t change anything in my eyes. You did what you thought was right. That counts for something. Counts for a lot, actually.”

Rhyne nodded slowly, thinking perhaps that it did. “May I ask you something personal?”

Intrigued, Rose stared at Rhyne over the rim of her teacup. “Ask away. We’ll see if I answer.”

“Did you ever think you’d be someone’s wife?”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Are you asking because I was a whore?”

“No. Well, yes. Maybe I am. That changes things for a woman, doesn’t it? If she’s a whore, I mean. What makes a man want a woman like that?”

Rose blew out a deep breath. “Now I understand how you won all those fights, Runt. You don’t hold anything back.” She put up a hand. “Don’t go all apologetic on me again. I can’t stand that. Honesty’s more refreshing and wherever these questions are coming from, I’m guessing they’re going straight through your heart. Is that about right?”

Afraid she would begin to cry, Rhyne only nodded.

“All right.” She waved the waiter over and asked for some whiskey for their tea. “Medicinal. Dr. Monroe will tell you that.” She inched her chair closer to Rhyne. “I guess you have to decide what kind of woman you are,” she said. “That’s different from the kind of woman
other
people think you are. It’s that simple, and it’s that hard. Mostly it’s about not letting folks beat you down. For me, it’s been easier here in Reidsville than it was in other places, but even some of the women who came before me and married miners years ago can forget themselves. They’d like to pass judgment on me or the girls still working at Miss Adele’s if we let them.”

The whiskey came and Rose took the bottle from the waiter when he started to pour. “I’ll take care of this,” she said, winking at him. “Put it on my bill.” When he was gone, she poured a finger’s worth into her cup and a little bit more than that into Rhyne’s. She set the bottle between them. “You asked me if I ever thought I’d be someone’s wife, and the answer is ‘yes.’ I thought it would happen for me the same way it did for my mother, although maybe not so many times. I had a lot of fathers growing up, Rhyne.”

Rose caught Rhyne’s eye to make certain she understood. “When I was older and already whoring, I put it aside, not because I didn’t want to be married, but because my thinking was still a little crooked. When I came into my own and stood up for myself, that’s when I knew some man would be damn lucky to have me in his life and not just in his bed. That no-account Beatty boy might have even realized it before I did. He waited me out, came by and played the piano for me, and he never asked me upstairs. Did you know that?”

Rhyne shook her head.

“Well, it’s true. So what makes a man want a woman like me?” Rose smiled slyly and tapped her temple. “The good sense to know that I’m the best thing that ever happened to him.” She paused, sipping her tea and watching Rhyne out of the corner of her eye. “Drink your tea. You’ll know your mind a little better after the whiskey softens it up.”

Cole thought he’d seen his last patient when he said goodbye to Mrs. Easter and her eldest boy. He was preparing to extinguish the lamps in the surgery when he heard the side door open. He recognized Will Beatty’s voice immediately. “I’m in here,” he called. “Come in.”

“Rose is with me,” Will said, appearing in the doorway. “She’s got something to tell you.” He motioned behind him, encouraging his wife to step forward.

Since Cole’s experience with Rose Beatty was that she was anything but reticent, her reluctance intrigued him. He tried to peer around Will’s shoulder. “Is she ill?”

Will grinned so widely that his dimples carved deep crescents on either side of his mouth. “Oh, she’s just fine. A little too fine for my tastes this time of day, it not being quite the dinner hour and all, but I reckon I can handle that. C’mon, Rose. The doctor’s waiting.” Will leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, making just enough room for Rose to slip past him.

Her bright, but somewhat vacant glance was all Cole had to see. “She’s been drinking, Will.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Rose held up her hand to get Cole’s attention. “I’m here, Dr. Monroe. You and Will should be careful about talking as if I weren’t.”

“You’re right. Come in, both of you. What can I do for you?”

Still grinning, Will looked at his wife. “You tell him.”

Pressing her generous mouth into a thin line, Rose cast a disapproving glance at that no-account Beatty boy. Damn, but if that didn’t make him chuckle. She had a feeling she was a little more worse for wear than she’d first thought.

“It’s about Rhyne,” she said to Cole. “I saw her in the Commodore dining room earlier this afternoon and we shared a table and some conversation.”

“And about half a bottle of Sir Nigel’s best whiskey,” Will said, unable to help himself. He pretended he didn’t see Rose’s attempt to sneer at him. Her lips weren’t quite working together.

“Medicinal,” Rose said. “We drank it in our tea with cream and sugar.”

“Waste of good whiskey,” said Will, “if you ask me.”

Cole was inclined to agree. “Where’s Miss Abbot?”

“Well, that’s what I’ve come to tell you.” She smiled pleasantly at her husband when he put a hand at her back to steady her. “Thank you, dear.”

“Miss Abbot?” Cole asked again when Rose merely stared at him. “Your table companion, Rose?”

“Oh. Yes. Rhyne. She’s still at the hotel, you see. I really thought that was best, and Sir Nigel agreed with me. He had an empty suite so he put her in there. I paid him for it, the whole thing being more or less my fault.”

“More,” said Will. “Definitely more.”

Rose’s features were set earnestly as she pleaded her case to Cole. “I didn’t know she couldn’t hold her liquor. She’s Runt Abbot, for goodness sake. Runt Abbot. He used to walk right into Rudy’s place and order at the bar. I
saw
him … her … them. How was I supposed to know?”

Cole was hard-pressed to keep from laughing. It helped to avoid catching Will’s eye. “Well, now you do. Is she all right?”

Rose’s brow furrowed as she gave the question the deepest consideration. “Doesn’t have a head for drink,” she said at last. “Doesn’t have the stomach for it, either.”

“I see.” That caused Cole to sober. “She was sick?”

“Mmm.”

Will steadied Rose again. “Nigel sent someone round to get me after they got Rhyne up to her room. I told Rose that she had to come here and explain to you what happened. If you decide you want to go see Rhyne, Rose and–”

“I most certainly want to see Miss Abbot,” Cole said, interrupting.

“I thought you might,” said Will. “Whitley can come with us. Spend the night if she likes. I know how it looks right now, but Rose’ll be–” He stopped because Cole was already nodding his head, agreeing to the arrangement. “Glad that’s settled. I’ll put up a sign; let folks that might come by know where they can find you. You go on. It’s Suite 200. Better take a change of clothes and maybe some headache powders. You’re going to need them.”

Will’s last piece of advice was sufficiently ambiguous, prompting Cole to pack a small valise with not only what might benefit Rhyne, but what he could use as well.

Nigel Pennyworth was expecting Cole and discreetly passed the key along. Cole required no assistance finding the suite. He did ask for dinner to be sent up in an hour and also for disturbances to be limited to emergencies. Sir Nigel assured him that he would arrange for both.

Cole did not try to be particularly quiet when he entered the suite. The small sitting room was empty. He let the valise thump to the floor beside the chaise longue and listened for the sound of movement in the adjoining bedroom. There was none.

Shaking his head, he opened the connecting door and looked in on Rhyne. She was lying close to the edge of the bed, one bare arm dangling over the side, the other pushed under the pillow. He suspected that when Rose left Rhyne, the blankets had been neatly tucked around her. Since then, Rhyne had fought a lively battle with them. They were bunched around her waist and tangled between her legs. One of her calves was completely uncovered, although she had managed to keep her feet buried.

Rhyne’s green-and-white checked dress was lying over the back of one of the chairs near the stove. Her corset and petticoat were folded on top of one wide arm while her cloak was draped across the other. The bustle and velvet hat rested on the chair’s plump cushion. Rhyne’s shoes were under the chair.

Surveying the throne of neatly arranged garments, Cole realized that either Rose was not quite as inebriated as she appeared or that no-account Beatty boy had offered more assistance than he let on. He hoped it was the former but suspected it was the latter.

After he’d unpacked the valise and straightened the covers around Rhyne once again, he returned to the sitting room, found a current copy of Artie Showalter’s weekly paper and stretched out on the chaise to read. When dinner arrived, he ate alone at the small table and put enough aside for Rhyne in the event she had an appetite for something other than tea and toast.

From time to time he checked on her. The basin on the floor beside the bed remained unused. Recalling what Rose told him earlier, Cole imagined that one bout of kneeling over the bowl had been enough to empty Rhyne’s stomach. He eventually removed the basin and put it in the bathing room.

The Commodore hotel had amenities that many people in Reidsville did not yet have in their homes. The luxury of Sir Nigel’s palace was well known beyond the town and attracted gamblers who had a taste for the fine life and the curious who wanted to experience it just once. Hot and cold running water, dark walnut cabinets, marble sinks, and polished brass fixtures made the bathing room as decadent a place as one could find in town, and the ball-and-claw footed tub was the room’s most self-indulgent feature.