The Last Honest Seamstress (38 page)

"Then play dirty." Lou's eyes twinkled, but she wasn't joking.

Con shook his head. "I played dirty to get her in the first place, and look where it's gotten me."

Chapter 16

Shortly after Fayth arrived home, the Captain came in. He called to her from the kitchen. When she met him, he presented her with a bunch of delicate red roses. Oh, blast! In her confused, worried, upset state of mind, the last thing she needed was the Captain playing suitor. First he was jealous and cool toward her, now flowers? What was she to think? And yet, she wanted to send him away and run to him for comfort, at the same time.

"Fayth?" The Captain looked uncertain, boyish and charming in his confusion.

Frustration won Fayth over. She reacted defensively. Fayth snatched the flowers and smashed them on the table. "What right do you have to court me?"
 

He stared at the flowers a moment, looking stunned by her outburst. Fayth followed his gaze. The bruised roses lay on the table, tragic testimony to her confusion, to their failing relationship. One rose fell away from the rest, its petals separated from the body of the flower, damaged, like she felt.
 

"What right?" His words exploded into the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath as if trying to regain control. "I'm your husband."
 

She glared at him. "Yes, what right, Con O'Neill? We had an agreement. This is a marriage of convenience.
We
exist for business purposes only. Husband or not, you have no right."

He laughed then, and for the first time there was no humor in it, only derision. "What am I supposed to do, Fayth? Sit idly by while you make time with that dandy from your past?"
 

He grabbed her arm and pulled her around into him. "You promised me your fidelity." His tone was low and solemn. It frightened her.

She tried to wrench free of his grip. "And I've been completely faithful."

"Am I supposed to believe you? When you spend hours alone with Drew after hours at the shop?” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “You've been unfaithful, darling, with your business talents if nothing else. The businesses belong to you and me. Yet more and more it appears that Drew is your partner. Your attention to our common interests is all I have claim on. By our own agreement that belongs to me."

"Nothing
belongs
to you!"

His expression narrowed and he gave a snorting laugh. "I'm at least owed your discretion. It's all over town how you've been trailing after him. Tetch told me."

"Why should you believe him?" Fayth's heart thudded in her ears. She didn't know the jealous, angry man before her—had no idea how to handle him, or the situation.

"He has no reason to lie."

"Jealousy doesn’t become you. I suggest you keep your wild accusations to yourself." Her breath came in quick angry gasps. She couldn't stop herself from lashing out at him. "How can you speak to me of discretion? All I ever asked of you was the same. Yet you flaunt your relationship with Lou, going to her house whenever it suits you, undermining the very things that I stand for. What is your relationship with her? Is she your partner, like I am?"
 

He released the grip on her arm and stepped back. She'd hit a weak spot.

Fayth didn't understand her own angry torrent of emotions. She needed to escape before she broke into wild, jealous sobs, but he caught her arm again as if he'd read her thoughts.

"Fayth—"

"I saw that whore come off your ship."

He paled.

"No defenses? I thought not. She was one of Lou's girls. Was she for your own use, or were you merely helping Lou grow her business?" Her own laugh floated eerily through the room, seemingly disembodied.
 

"Damn it, Fayth. How can you even accuse me? You want explanations, I'll give them to you, but I doubt you'll like them, or understand my motives." He sounded suddenly defeated.

She didn't want to hear them, didn't want the last of her illusions to crumble. "No, you're probably right. But I do want to know what you have done to Coral. At least give me that truth."

"To Coral?"

"She moved out today, back to Lou's. You come home and she leaves, what am I to think?"

"Fayth—"

"She's pregnant."

"Man alive!" He looked shaken. "You can't think—"

"No, the timing isn't right." Her words sliced the air viciously. She saw him reel with the shock of them, as stunned as if she'd slapped him. She hurt so badly, she couldn't stop herself from hurting him.

"Fayth, how can you think these things about me? I haven't done anything to Coral." He looked directly into her eyes.
 

She had to give him credit for courage, facing her like that. For herself, she could barely look at him.
 

His tone was soft. "What have I done to you to make you doubt me like this?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

"Listen to me." Defeat edged his voice. "I should have told you the truth a long time ago. But I thought . . ."
 

He continued staring at her. "Our relationship was so new. I thought I'd lose any chance I had at winning your affections." He sighed. "I thought you'd never have to know. And except for the break-in, you wouldn't have."

Fear pulsed through her, setting her stomach rolling, her hands trembling, even blotting out his admission of feelings for her.

"I went to Lou's to borrow money. And later to make payments. And as for the girl you saw on the
Aurnia,
transporting her was part of the payment, a favor called in."

She stopped still. "What?"

"For the second story of your building."

"Loan? My building?" Understanding would not come.

He laughed, but it was more at himself than anything. "Lou has nearly as much money to lend as the banks. When a man can't get a bank loan, Lou is his best bet. With the interest she charges, a man has to be desperate, as I was."

At first, she was too stunned to reply. Understanding came slowly. Her words were slow and deliberate, filled with malice. "You mean I'm in debt to Lou?" Since Coral's defection, Lou was lower than silverfish on her list of despicable creatures.

"We both are." He shook his head slowly and looked far away. "Blasted thieves!" he mumbled. "I tried to offer O'Neill's as collateral, but Lou wouldn't have it. I had to back the loan with your business."

Her breath surged from her, as if she had just fallen flat on her stomach. Her stifled cry was almost a parody of speech, barely audible. "No!"

"I'm sorry. It was the only way to get the money." He tried to lift her chin to look at him. "I took the loan because I loved you, because I believed in you. It was either you failed then and there, or I took out the loan. I knew you'd make it, Fayth. I thought I would. I've been making the payments."

Stunned by his admissions, of both love and betrayal, she could only utter the most rudimentary question. "How much?"

He named a figure. It only explained part of the money that disappeared each month.
 

"You, you . . . I can't even think of a name vile enough. I’m ruined! Tetch is right—you're nothing but a thief. O'Neill's Shipping is going to fail, and me with it. There's no way I can make payments to both Lou and Mr. Finn."
 

She shook free of him and strode to the door, pausing to look over her shoulder and throw out a final insult. "By the way, I saw you at Lou's before we needed money for the second story—the day after our marriage. You still lie. I wish you'd just leave!"

He wore a masked expression. She could no longer read anything in his face. "I'll be happy enough to oblige you in the morning. I'm sailing for San Francisco."

She didn't turn to look at him before she stormed down the hall into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. But she couldn't push the hurt, defeated tone of his voice from her mind. Nor her fear, tantamount to panic.

Oh, blast! She didn't know what to do.

She sat on her bed, trying to calm herself. An array of emotions washed over her in such quick succession that they blended together and were nearly impossible to separate by name. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. She had loved only two men in her life, one openly, and one despite herself, and neither one turned out to be who she thought he was. She could ascribe her misreading of Drew to immaturity. But she had no excuse for Con. She had researched his background carefully, well before feeling any emotional attachment to him. But she had been fooled by everyone, and everything, including her own pride. What vanity caused her to believe she could discern the true nature of a person through observation?

As she sat there, she didn't know what hurt worse, that Con had gone to Lou for the money, or that he did it behind her back. Where were honesty and trust? Oh, what a hypocrite she was! She hadn't told him who Drew really was. Why had she been afraid of the truth? Had Con felt the same, been as fearful?

She hated being suddenly in debt to the madam. She morosely pictured herself working for Lou for the rest of her life. She snorted.
Yes, that's exactly what I've always wanted to be—seamstress to the whores.
 

To succeed, she had to overcome so much, from her location and the blasted skylights, to Coral's reputation. She could explain Coral on the grounds of rescuing her from the clutches of sin. But how could she ever explain a business loan from Seattle's most infamous madam?

She rubbed her temple. It was quiet in the hall. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. She'd go to the shop to calm down and think, to escape.

When Fayth arrived at the shop, a light was on. What was Drew doing working when she had given him the day off? She almost turned around, but he saw her and waved. Reluctantly, she went in.

"I thought I gave you the day off." She took her jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, trying to appear calm.

"You mean your Captain did. We're behind. There was sewing to be done. What are
you
doing here?"

He sounded sincere and concerned, just like old times. She needed a friend. She spilled out details of the fight without thinking of the consequences.

"What did you expect from a man of so little moral fiber, Fayth?" Drew said when she finished.

"But how could he? It's my business. He had no right."

"He had no right, but he did it. You can't change that. You've told me time and again how much you admire his ability to take charge and make decisions. Well, darling, you've just discovered the disadvantage of such an admirable trait."

Fayth clenched her fists in front of her and leaned her nose into them in thought, aware that Drew carefully watched her from across the room. Finally, she straightened. "What should I do? I'm ruined. I can't pay both Lou and Jacob Finn. And I don't know which would be worse to default on. If I don't pay the bank, I lose the business. If I don't pay Lou, she takes my business, or I spend eternity sewing for her. I won't do it!"

"Of course not. You have too much talent to waste it on such women. Isn't that what I've been telling you all along?" Drew's voice was smooth, calm.

She stood to pace, too frustrated to sit long. Drew watched for a moment before standing and intercepting her. He took her in his arms in a familiar manner.

"My dear Fayth, you are too talented for Seattle in general. What keeps you here? Loyalty to a man who has betrayed you? What kind of a man are you shackling yourself to? A liar. A cheat. A fraud. And though I don't mean to be indelicate, a patron of whores. The man is so far beneath deserving you, that I can't . . . well, I can't bear it."

"What should I do?" She spoke into his chest.
 

He rested his chin on the top of her head and suddenly she felt as she did years ago, when Drew had been her untarnished hero. She needed an answer.

"I've been telling you what to do for some time. Run away with me to New York."

She was shaking her head before the words were fully out of his mouth. "No."

He grabbed her head between his hands to stop her disagreement. "It will work. We’re so good together."

"You make it sound plausible."
 

"Because it is. Fayth, what's stopping you?"

The Captain, she thought, but she couldn't say it. It was the thought of never seeing Con again.

Fayth entered the kitchen through the back door with Drew's proposal on her mind. She had no intention of going with him, but during the trip home escape had come to sound good. She could start over; she could take what she could salvage before everything collapsed—the business and her heart.

It was late, but Con had neglected to draw the curtains. The house was quiet, as if no one were home. She pulled the curtains closed, and leaned on her elbows against the kitchen counter, lost in thought.

What kept her in Seattle? Her honor? Her business? Drew was right, as far as business went, she would be better off in New York. Why stay in Seattle where her talents were appreciated mostly by women of easy virtue who wore her gowns to entice men into sin? She sighed, imagining her creations on debutantes and society matrons.