Payton's Woman (10 page)

“You knew all along.” Her
voice quaked as she spoke. “How? How did you know?”

“Your evening gloves, the
ones that matched the sapphire-blue gown you wore that night. They were under his
body.”

Her eyes opened wide. She
put her fingers to her lips to muffle her gasp. Her hand trembled against her
mouth. “Does anyone else know I was there?”

He shook his head. “I’m
the only one who knew you’d lost your gloves. I haven’t told anyone else.”

Her anger flared. She jerked
her arm from his grasp. “Is this another attempt to blackmail me?”

“I’ve never tried to
blackmail you,” he snapped.

“Then what do you want?”
she cried out.

He shrugged. “Perhaps I
want your trust.”

“I thought you only
wanted for us to know each other better so I wouldn’t be so frightened of you,”
she said while choking back a sob.

“I still do.” His eyebrows
knitted together. “You seem to be in some kind of trouble, Julia. I want to
help you.”

“You want too much.”

“You don’t belong with
this crowd. They’re like a bunch of hungry sharks. They’ll eat you alive. “

“I can take care of
myself.”

He laughed slightly, but
the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve yet to see that.”

He might be right about
last weekend, but up until that night, she’d done a fine job of looking after
herself. “You’ve learned all you’re going to about me. If that isn’t enough,
here’s the money I offered for your help.” She searched around in her bag until
she found a few coins. She threw them at his feet. “Now we’re even. And I don’t
ever want to see you again.”

Chapter Nine

By the time Julia turned
the corner of the block that lead to Betsy’s house, her tears had dried, but
her body still shook with a variety of emotions. Fear. Anger. Betrayal. But what
hurt the most was her sense of loss. Payton was gone from her life. She’d never
see him again.

She had difficulty
understanding her feelings. Wasn’t this exactly what she wanted—to have him out
of her life so she could continue with what needed to be done? Now that she’d
severed any further contact with him, she felt alone and abandoned. Without him,
she seemed to stumble around in a dark and hostile forest. A pack of vicious wolves
surrounded her and nipped at her heels. They all seemed anxious to attack and
devour her without mercy. Until now, she had not considered Payton one of those
creatures, yet it seemed he had turned against her also.

He claimed he wanted her
trust, but how could she trust anyone, especially him. He already knew far too
much. He knew where she’d been and with whom that night when they’d first met. Now
he demanded to know why she had been there. But why? And how could a man like
Wilber Hennigan be of any possible interest to Payton.

She’d accused him of trying
to blackmail her, although she didn’t believe that was his motive. He’d looked
sincere when he offered to help. Perhaps she needed it, but she couldn’t
involve him. What reason did he have for learning why she’d been at the Double
Eagle Shipping Company? She only knew she couldn’t tell him. It was her secret.
She wouldn’t share it with anyone. Not even Payton.

Preoccupied with
thoughts of what had happened in the park, she failed to notice Sylvia’s
carriage parked near the curb until she was almost in front of the house. She diverted
her route and hurried along the narrow path that circled around the house.

Betsy stayed in bed
until noon, so she didn’t worry about running into her for another hour, but
she didn’t want to talk with Sylvia. As she climbed the steps to the back
entrance where the servants entered, she tried to compose herself. Just as she
reached for the handle, the maid jerked open the door.

“Miss Anderson.” She
looked anxious. That meant Betsy was awake and had been berating the poor girl.
“Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Morgan would like you to join them in the morning room.”

“I’ll be right there,
Elsie. I just need to freshen up,” she said to stall for time. After her
argument with Payton, her body still trembled. She went upstairs to her room
and removed her hat and gloves.

After glancing in the mirror,
she dipped the corner of the towel into the cold water remaining in the pitcher
and blotted at her puffy eyelids. She used the last of the water to rinse away
the dried tears streaking her cheeks. When she felt presentable, she ventured down
to where Betsy and Sylvia waited.

“Good morning,” she greeted
each one as she entered the room.

Betsy dispensed with the
pleasantries. “Sit down.” She motioned to an empty chair directly across from
her at the small, round table.

Sylvia looked
appropriately attired in a light blue muslin gown, but Betsy looked like she’d
just crawled out of bed. Her purple dressing gown gaped open, exposing a wrinkled
nightgown. A white nightcap covered her hair, but unruly black strands peeked
out from the edges. She had apparently failed to remove the face rouge before retiring
last night. Smears of red stained her lips. Black charcoal marks smudged the
skin around her eyes.

“Coffee?” Sylvia didn’t
wait for a reply. She poured the dark, steaming liquid into an elaborately
painted china cup and scooted it across the table. “Are you all right, Julia?
You look flushed.”

“It’s warm outside. I
must have walked too briskly,” she said as an excuse before attempting to change
the subject. “Haven’t you been sleeping well, Sylvia? This is the second time this
week you’ve been here so early.”

“As a matter of fact, I
didn’t sleep well. I had a rather disturbing conversation after you left—”

“Enough,” Betsy ordered.

While Julia stirred
sugar into her coffee, she tried to steel herself. She could tell from Betsy’s demeanor
that an ugly mood hovered beneath her exterior. The day was too early for the
woman to adequately disguise her impatience with feigned politeness, or a
forced smile.

“I understand you
enjoyed yourself quite a bit at the party last night. Is that correct?” Betsy
asked.

“Yes, it was a lovely
party. The musicians played well, and the food was quite tasty.”

“I gathered you liked
the music. You danced with several different gentlemen.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted
me to do? You instructed me to dance with all your friends and anyone you
introduced me to so I wouldn’t appear rude.”

“I know what I
instructed,” she said in a harsh voice, but her tone quickly softened. “I
noticed you also danced with a few men I had not introduced you to.”

“Some of them were quite
persistent, so I consented, although I made each of them promise not to annoy
me for a second dance.”

“She’s right. Several
men hovered around her despite that matronly gown she wore.”

“You know, Miss Anderson,
you could have a great deal of men willing to grant your every request if you’d
just use your…ah…talent, a little more.”

“I don’t know what kind
of talent I could use,” she said, despite knowing exactly what she meant. “But
there are so many men pestering me now that I really don’t want any more. They
can be such a bother sometimes.”

She took a sip of
coffee, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Sylvia and Betsy exchange
disgusted looks.

“That’s because you’re
not using the gentlemen properly. Most of those men would eagerly give you
anything you asked for.”

“But I don’t want
anything from them.”

“Well, I do.”

Julia almost told her to
use her own talents to get what she wanted, but she bit on her lower lip to
keep from blurting it out.

“Julia,” Sylvia said,
interrupting the tenseness of the moment. “If you don’t learn how to use men
properly, they will end up using you.”

She had no intention in
being used by any man, but she gave a demure reply. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Exactly my point,”
Betsy said. “You’re so naïve about men that one of them could easily take
advantage of you before you even knew it. That’s why it’s important to follow
my instructions.”

“You mean like dancing
with your friends?”

Her lips curled into an angry
snarl. “You’ll do more than dance with them before I’m through with you.”

“What Betsy means,”
Sylvia said hastily, “is you need to do more than just dance with the gentlemen.
You should be attentive to them, ask questions, and show an interest in what
they are saying, just to be polite.”

“I do try to be polite,
but frankly, I’m not interested in anything about them.”

“One of them seemed to pique
you interest in something more than dancing,” Sylvia said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the captain.”
She stared at Julia over the rim of her coffee cup. “Don’t tell me you’ve
forgotten him already.”

Her body went rigid. She
thanked her good fortune she didn’t have coffee in her mouth, or she might have
choked on it. Seeing Payton last night had slipped her mind because of the
horrible fight they’d just had. “Oh, him.”

“Yes, him,” Sylvia said,
a sultry murmur in her voice. “Considering the way he held you, I should think
you’d remember him for a very long time. I know I certainly would.”

“I’m trying to forget. I
wasn’t myself last night. Perhaps it was the champagne. I don’t usually have
more than a sip or two.”

“Who is he?” Betsy asked.
Her tone sounded like a command.

“I don’t remember,” she
lied. “I don’t even recall his name. It must’ve been the champagne. My memory
seems fuzzy this morning.”

“Oh, come now,” Sylvia
said. “You didn’t have that much to drink.”

“His name is Payton
Tyler,” Betsy said, her patience apparently growing thin. “What do you know
about him?”

“Nothing.” She realized
that by answering too hastily, it appeared she knew more, so she tried to
soften her answer. “Nothing more than what Sylvia knows. He introduced himself
and asked me to dance.”

“You danced with him
twice,” Sylvia said. “That is not your usual manner. In fact, your entire
behavior with the captain was most unusual. I don’t believe I have ever seen
you allow a man to take liberties with you before.”

Heat gathered in her
cheeks. Payton had taken liberties—blatantly so. And she’d allowed him. She was
shocked at her behavior.

A week ago, when she’d
been alone with Payton, she’d allowed him to kiss her. Last night on the
terrace with other people around, she’d allowed him to do more. She’d let him
touch her breast—her naked breast. Then he’d licked his tongue over her nipple.
Her body shivered as she recalled the details.

“Are you all right?”
Sylvia asked.

“No, I’m not.” She
couldn’t disguise the tremor in her body, but she would use it to her
advantage. “You’re right about my conduct. It was most unbecoming. I should go
to church and pray for forgiveness.”

“Sit down,” Betsy said
when Julia stood. “You can pray for your soul later. Right now, I want you to
tell me what you know about him.”

She hadn’t intended to
go to church; she only wanted an excuse to get away. With Betsy’s demanding
questions and Sylvia’s prying eyes, she couldn’t withstand much more of this
inquisition. She returned to the chair and picked up her cup. As she took a
long drink of coffee, she tried to think of a good response to satisfy their
curiosity.

“I recall his name now that
you mentioned it, but I don’t remember anything else. We didn’t talk all that
much as Sylvia can tell you. I don’t know why I allowed him a second dance. There
was just something about the way he looked.”

“There certainly was. He
was tall with dark hair and broad shoulders.”

“Perhaps it was his size.”
She took her cue from Sylvia and rambled on with a made-up explanation. “He
seemed so strong and powerful. He swept me up into another dance and out the door
before I could protest. When we reached the terrace, I became frightened and
insisted he take me back inside.”

Sylvia scrunched up her
face into an expression of disbelief. “You didn’t seem afraid when I found the
two of you locked in a passionate embrace.”

The heat in her cheeks intensified
with genuine embarrassment, but she didn’t try to hide the emotion. She could
use it to her advantage. “I already told you my behavior was most unbecoming. I
can’t explain why. It was his eyes, I think. Yes, his eyes. I was mesmerized by
the way he looked at me.”

“It appeared as though
you had a similar effect on him. He seemed quite enamored of you.”

“Was he? I didn’t
notice.”

“If you knew where to
look, you would have seen for yourself. It was quite obvious.”

Julia wasn’t certain
what Sylvia meant, but she tired of the conversation. “It doesn’t matter because
I don’t plan to see him again.”

“Yes, you will,” Betsy
said.

“But I won’t. I have no
intention of seeing him again. Not ever.”

“I said you will,” Betsy
insisted. “And very soon. Otherwise, I may have to resort to a more unpleasant means
of getting information from him.”

“What do you mean?” She
tried to keep the alarm from her voice. Betsy’s words sounded like a thinly
veiled threat toward Payton’s life. She had little doubt her unpleasant nature
could turn deadly if she didn’t get what she wanted.

“Never mind.” Betsy
looked at Sylvia. “Give her the writing paper.”

Sylvia complied. She
also slid a bottle of ink and a pen closer to Julia.

“Pick up the pen,” Betsy
said. “I want you to extend an invitation to the captain to meet you at the
theatre tonight.”

When she hesitated, Betsy
leaned back in her chair. Her manner took on a friendlier expression. “You
enjoy working for me, don’t you, Miss Anderson?”

Experience had taught her
Betsy was at her most devious when she appeared calm. Julia stayed on her guard
not to blurt out anything without careful thought.