To Seduce a Rogue (26 page)

Adam smiled. He missed her. Only, neither of them missed the other in any way that mattered.

How is the newspaper in your small town doing? I hope, for you sake, that it is more exciting than you had imagined. Certainly, there are women and saloons, no matter the size of the place. And a newspaper. What more do you need?

He chuckled and filled his glass with Miles’ potion, which he was afraid he was developing a fondness for.

There has been a flurry of activity here since the last time I wrote. A new hotel is being built at Franklin and Third streets. There is also talk of the city buying some property on the western edge for development for a state fair park. Land covered with scrub pines and blackberry bushes! Lucky devil that owns the property. William Clifton Thomas, if I’m not mistaken.

He doubted Marilyn would overlook any issue involving money.

I wish I had more time to put what I am thinking to paper, but until Father returns, I won’t find time to purchase a new gown. Also, the words I want to say may not be appropriate for a lady to record for others, perhaps, to see. So I shall leave you with what I assure you are benevolent thoughts. Be sure to drop a note when you return to the city. Maybe your busy schedule will allow for a short letter to me as well.

With warmest regard,

Marilyn

Adam dropped the letter to the table, his gaze going to the window and the vast fields surrounding the farmhouse. He should have gone back to Mrs. Wilkin’s tonight, but he and Miles hadn’t finished discussing the predicament until well past midnight. Besides, they had extra bedrooms, and what was one bed versus another when neither was you own?

It scared him to realize how attached to Charlie he had become in these last weeks.

And how responsible he felt for her.

Their passionate encounter in the cornfield had only intensified the attraction between them. How could it not, when he knew how perfectly she fit him? Knew how sweet the skin beneath her ear tasted, how silky her hair felt wrapped around his fingers. Knew how damned erotic the scent of roses was, clinging to his skin.

How,
how
, could he not want more?

He shook his head, trying to conjure Marilyn’s beautiful face, but the image that leaped into his mind was one of Charlie—sitting by the window, her head bent in deep concentration as she helped Kath mend clothing. Shimmering moonlight from the window streaming down upon her, bathing her in pale radiance.

He groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face.

He and Miles had decided Charlie should go to Richmond. There was no other way. She would get into trouble if he left her behind, and his fear about the temptation she presented was less than his fear for her safety. At least this way, he could keep an eye on her.

And if he was honest—which he had not been with Miles—there was a part of him that
wanted
to take her. To show her his home on the James River and his office at the
Times
. To share in her excitement as she watched paper fly through what would be the largest press she had ever seen. To witness her excitement as she encountered the bustling, noisy streets of Richmond.

In the morning he would tell her. She needed time to pack, time to prepare. They would be gone for two or three weeks. There was also the dilemma regarding a chaperone—a dilemma that was, as yet, unresolved. It was out of the question to travel alone with her. Her reputation would be utterly ruined.

And
...he did not want any more temptation than he could handle.

The train, thankfully, would be fast and
spacious
. With enough room for him to avoid being in her immediate proximity.

Unquestionably, when they arrived in Richmond, he would be far too busy to do much more than tour her around the city for an afternoon or two. A pile of correspondence as high as his head was no doubt waiting for him, plus household affairs to organize, investments to monitor, meetings to attend. He was not going to neglect those things to play nursemaid to a woman who could not seem to keep herself, or
him
, out of trouble.

He smiled. For the first time in weeks his life was back in his control.

Awareness

Having knowledge; consciousness.

Richmond, Virginia

Charlie lifted her hand to her mouth and yawned behind it. Even in the privacy of her bedroom, she could not infringe upon Mrs. Mindlebright’s teachings.

She glanced at the ceiling above her bed, amazed by the decorative scrolls painted in bursts of green and yellow. Actually, it wasn’t her bed—better to say the bed in Chase’s guest bedroom. No, that wasn’t right, either. He had six or seven bedrooms. If you had that many, were they all for guests? She had no idea. Even Lila’s house—the biggest in Edgemont—only had two to spare. They called
theirs
guest bedrooms.

Her gaze searched the ceiling. No chipped paint, no spider webs. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a ceiling without a single spider web. And the bed, why it was so big, she could stretch out full length and her feet would not hang over the edge. She did it then, just because she could, stretching as completely as Faustus did on the comforting wood of her porch. She hoped Miles wouldn’t forget to go by and feed him. Faustus could certainly survive on his own on field mice and a bird or two, but she didn’t want him to think he’d been abandoned.

Her gaze lit on the four-poster bedstead rising high above her head. Surely, all the furniture in this room couldn’t be mahogany, but she knew that it was. The dark wood gleamed and glistened, dim reflections layering its surface. The entire house shone like a new penny. Neat and orderly—without a trace of character or personality. Her own home was dingy in comparison, small and cluttered, everything looking very...homespun. But, it had a personality all its own. You could tell a lot about her by looking at the sketches hanging on her wall or the trinkets sitting on her shelves.

Chase’s home was just the opposite. It was tastefully decorated—for all she knew of furnishings, which wasn’t much. Yet, it was stylish to the extreme, furnished with pieces too daunting to actually sit upon.

The second floor—where she was—consisted of four large bedrooms and a small parlor with windows overlooking the river. The third floor had
more
bedrooms, modest ones, for the household staff, she guessed. There were also two vacant rooms tucked into the corner of the top floor. Sealed boxes and furniture covered with white sheets occupied those.

The room she assumed was his was at the far end of the hall. Her own was at the top of the stairs, as far away from his as possible.

What did his bedroom look like? She would love to know, but she couldn’t just snoop. He’d locked the door, anyway.

If she were writing an article on his home, an exact description would fail her. It just lacked...feeling. Whoever had decorated it didn’t know Chase well, she’d be willing to bet. The house
looked
nice, elegant and attractive, but it felt indifferent and cheerless.

Charlie pulled a fat feather pillow to her chest and hugged it, discarding the homesickness plaguing her. She wanted to be here. In Richmond. In Chase’s home. To see a new city, a different part of the country, excited her. So, why was she homesick? They had only arrived on the train this very afternoon.

She simply had not expected to feel so alone.

She would stay busy, of course. Chase told her they would go into Richmond proper in a day or two, after he had concluded his meeting with Oliver Stokes. Charlie had asked to go with him, but his negative response had brooked no argument.

Her chaperone, Mrs. Peters, had pleaded exhaustion from the trip and gone directly to her room upon their arrival. The older woman had complained much of the time they were on the train, but every aspect of their journey had enthralled Charlie. She wasn’t sure when Chase had come up with the grand idea of asking Mrs. Peters, who had recently moved from Richmond to open a millinery shop in Edgemont, to accompany them.

Mrs. Peters claimed the trip would be a perfect opportunity to gather the few personal items left behind during the move.

The only doleful element of Charlie’s journey north was her interaction with Chase. She blew a frustrated breath toward the ceiling. An adventure, like one she had always dreamed of—the chance to travel beyond South Carolina’s borders. The chance to experience life. Except,
he
was crushing her hopes as flat as a flower beneath his stiff heel. Just like his damn house: cool and impersonal. Why, he had not looked at her closely, not so much as touched her with his
little
finger.

Not once.

Most of the trip had consisted of reflective musing, absorption in the landscape and people they encountered, and reading
Jane Eyre
. She had tried to thank Chase for the book, but he’d only shrugged it off with a casual flick of his wrist. So like him that damn gesture was.

Charlie honestly didn’t know what to think of his behavior. He was distant and detached, yet he seemed to be acutely aware of her. For the first time in her life, she felt spoiled. Pampered.

Although, it presented a problem when the person doing the pampering was barely speaking to her.

* * *

A soft knock on the door drew Charlie from her restless slumber. She had tossed and turned all night, tangling the sheets about her. Foolish dreams, feverish and unattainable. She shook her head and turned to her back. A quick glance at the window showed the sun was up, high and bright in the sky.

“Miss Whitney? Are you awake?” Mrs. Peters asked from the other side of the door.

Charlie sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. The dutiful chaperone come to wake her recalcitrant charge. “Yes, Mrs. Peters, I’m awake. You may come in if you like.”

The door swung open slowly, Mrs. Peters’ head peeking around it. When she saw that Charlie was indeed decent, she pushed the door wide and walked in. What had she expected, to find her naked?

“Miss Whitney, I know how tired you must be from our arduous journey. A breakneck pace Mr. Chase set for us, I will say.” She patted the knot at the back of her head and sniffed in a thoroughly ladylike fashion. “We have tasks to complete today, so I suggest you rise, wash up and eat something light to settle your undoubtedly nervous stomach.”

Charlie smiled. “My stomach isn’t nervous.” It wasn’t anything but empty. Nothing light would fix that.

Mrs. Peters clicked her tongue. “Well, it will be. With all the travel and excitement, any well-bred young woman’s stomach would be apt to become a bit restless.”

Well-bred
? What had Chase told the woman? Mrs. Peters obviously had not lived in Edgemont long enough to hear the facts. Also, what tasks could
they
possibly have to complete?

“Tasks?” Charlie asked as she twisted the cool sheet between her fingers.

Mrs. Peters nodded and strolled to the window. The yellow silk curtains danced, influenced by a gentle breeze. Sun poured in around her chaperone, casting her in dark contour. Charlie supposed this was a gesture to allow her—in all her maidenly, well-bred modesty—to crawl from the bed and slip into whatever a well-bred young maiden slipped into upon rising.