She couldn’t sleep—a storm was brewing. Elizabeth slid from the chaise and padded across the carpet to look out the window. The wind whistled around the house, plucking with angry fingers at the denuded branches of the trees in the gardens and sliding through the tiny cracks around the window. She pulled the blue silk dressing gown more closely about her and watched the increasing frenzy of the thrashing branches as they struggled to battle their unseen foe. A shutter came loose and banged against the house.
Elizabeth darted a gaze at the bed. Justin hadn’t stirred. How could he sleep with the wind howling so? For a moment she studied his face. In slumber, the cool, aloof look of rigid self-control was gone. He looked younger, softer, more approachable. And had certainly proved himself to be so today. Elizabeth smiled. Miss Brown had been dismissed.
Justin stirred and Elizabeth averted her gaze. She turned back to the window and watched the shadowy branches continue their tortured dance in the darkness. They were like her thoughts, rushing this way and that way, trying to grasp an unseen, unrecognizable foe.
Like fear.
Elizabeth stole another look at Justin. What a complicated man she had married. He wasn’t really cold, distant and impervious to human feelings as she had first thought. His mask of cool disdain had slipped several times since their arrival at Randolph Court and she had seen the pain in his eyes. She had also witnessed the anger and bitterness with which he fought the pain.
How terrible. How tragic to have love snatched from you after so short a time. Seven months. Only seven months! Such a short time to know happiness. Elizabeth lifted her hands and wiped the sudden, unwelcome tears from her eyes. Tears would not help, and she did want to help Justin. He had suffered so much loss—his parents, his wife, the young man that had been murdered. Elizabeth shuddered. What a horrible way to lose someone you loved.
Lightning lit the distant sky. She looked up at the sudden flash of light. One’s life could change just that quickly. Hers had. And Justin’s? Well, one moment he’d had a family—and then there were only the children. She thought she understood, now, why he seemed distant with them. It must be difficult to learn to be a father in the midst of grief. No wonder he had decided to purchase a wife. No wonder he wanted no personal involvement or intimacy.
Elizabeth sighed. She felt the same. And while she could not give Justin back his love or happiness, she could give him friendship and understanding. She could do her best to replace the cold, sterile atmosphere that filled his house with one of warmth and comfort. She could, and would, love and care for his children. And she could do her best to take the pain from his eyes and make him smile.
The wind stopped. There was a sudden, dead silence—and then the first drops of rain fell. They came slowly, distinct and separate, and then ever more rapidly until tiny rivulets of water coursed down the window in front of her like tears down a grief-stricken face. Elizabeth lifted her hand and rested her fingertips lightly against the cool windowpane. “Dear God, are You crying for the pain of Your children?” Her soft whisper was lost in the mournful sigh of the rising wind.
For a long time Elizabeth stood in the darkness and watched the raindrops slide down the window while she thought about Justin and the children. The compassion in her heart grew. Determination blossomed in her spirit. She lifted her face toward heaven. “Dear God, please help us. Please make this house into a home, and Justin, Sarah, Mary and myself into a true family. And, God, please—help me not to be afraid.”
There was another flash of lightning. Thunder crashed and rumbled. Elizabeth sighed and padded back to the chaise. What good would her prayer do? How could God even hear her over the storm?
“Good morning.”
Justin glanced up, then rose to his feet as Elizabeth swept into the dining room. “Good morning.” His voice echoed the surprise on his face. “You’re up early.”
“Yes, I know.” She stopped just inside the door. “Would you prefer to breakfast alone? I don’t wish to intrude.”
“Not at all.” Justin left his chair and came around the table to seat her. “I would be glad of your company.”
“You mustn’t say so unless you mean it.” Elizabeth ignored the nervous fear that surged through her as he came near. “For I warn you, I intend to join you at breakfast every morning.”
Justin stared.
“There now—I’ve done it again.” Elizabeth smoothed out her skirts. “I have shocked you also.”
“Also?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m afraid Trudy is scandalized by my unladylike behavior. She takes her position very seriously.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head in mock despair. “No doubt the other servants will be shocked as well.”
Justin chuckled. “That does not seem to concern you overmuch.” He returned to his place. “I’m sure Trudy will recover. As will the others.”
“Then you truly don’t mind?” Elizabeth’s lighthearted manner gave way to serious demeanor. “I honestly don’t wish to intrude.”
“And, I, honestly, don’t mind.”
“Oh, I am glad. I know it’s fashionable for a lady to languish in bed mornings, but I enjoy getting up and watching the world come to life. Sunsets are beautiful, but a sunrise is…is…”
“Invigorating?”
“Yes! That’s it exactly. Invigorating!” She smiled across the table at Justin. “You must feel the same for you knew the exact word to describe what I— Oh, Owen. Good morning.”
“Good morning, madam. I hope this day finds you well.”
Elizabeth smiled. The dignified butler hadn’t turned a hair at her unexpected appearance. “Wonderfully well. And ravenous.”
“We shall serve immediately, madam.” The butler went to the server, collected the appropriate pieces of china and silver and placed them on the table before her. “I apologize, madam, that all was not in readiness for your appearance.” He motioned the maid forward.
“The fault was mine, Owen.” Elizabeth picked up her napkin and spread it over her lap. “I was remiss in not informing you that I would be joining my husband—” There! She had said husband quite naturally. “—for breakfast this morning. Ummm! This looks wonderful!” She turned her attention to the food.
Justin looked up at the butler. “It seems we will need two places at table in the future, Owen.”
The old man inclined his head. “Very good, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Not at the moment. I’ll ring if you’re needed.”
“Yes, sir.” Owen bowed, motioned the maid out the door and followed after her.
“I thought you were ravenous?”
Elizabeth stopped pushing her food around on the plate and looked up at him. “The quote is correct, sir.”
Justin looked down at her untouched plate. “If the food is not to your liking you’ve only to tell Owen your preference.” He reached for the bell beside his plate.
“Please, don’t ring, Justin.” Elizabeth sighed and looked up at him. “The food is fine. I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ve no reason to be.” Justin frowned. That niggling thought was hovering at the edge of his mind, again. If only he could pin it down!
“I know. Forgive me.” She smiled and reached for her tea. “What do you find of interest in the paper?”
“I was reading about the new play that is coming to the Chestnut Street Theater. I have a box. We shall have to attend a performance when Madame Duval has made you a suitable gown.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ll look forward to it.” Elizabeth removed the cover from a silver tray. The delicious aroma of hot scones wafted upward. She looked up at Justin. “Would you like—”
“By heaven that’s it!” Justin slapped the table and surged to his feet. “You have blue eyes!”
Elizabeth jumped and dropped the tray. It clattered against the table. Scones spilled onto the spotless white cloth. “Yes. Yes, I—I do.”
Fear leaped into her eyes. He suddenly realized he was bracing himself on the table and leaning toward her. “Lovely…blue…eyes.” He relaxed his grip and lowered himself to his chair.
“Th-thank you.”
Her voice was shaking. So was her hand. She lowered it to her lap.
Justin scowled. “Forgive me, Elizabeth, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just suddenly realized—” He stopped short. “I…er…suddenly realized I have some urgent business to attend to. If you will excuse me…” He tossed his napkin onto the table and hurried from the room.
Elizabeth stared at Justin’s empty chair. What had caused that sudden, odd outburst? She reached out to pick up the spilled scones, then shivered, and clenched her trembling hands in her lap. Why had he mentioned the color of her eyes? And what, if anything, did it portend for her future?
Justin rushed down the hallway to his study. He knew now what had been nagging him all along—Elizabeth’s blue eyes! In her letter “Interested” had described herself as having blond hair and brown eyes. He had married the wrong woman! He was sure of it. But how had it happened?
Justin entered his study, slammed the door shut behind him and rushed to his desk. There was a small click as he unlocked the top drawer. He stuffed the key back into his waistcoat pocket and began rummaging among the papers. Where was that letter? He tossed the marriage certificate, the marriage of convenience agreement and the financial settlement contract he and Elizabeth had signed to the top of the desk out of his way and continued to search for “Interested’s” letter. Suddenly he straightened. He had given the woman’s letter to the judge. Now what? He wanted to make absolutely sure before he— Before he what? Accused Elizabeth of being an impostor?
Justin scowled and sat down in his chair. Did he want to do that? What purpose would it serve? He scooped up the papers on the desktop to toss them back into the drawer and then stopped. He ought to read them. Especially the financial agreement. But did he want to know the extent of Elizabeth’s greed?
Justin twisted his lips into a smile of contempt for his weakness. The papers he held in his hand contained all he knew of the woman he had married and—no. No! That wasn’t true. He knew much more than these papers could ever tell him. He knew the warmth of her smile and the music of her laughter. He knew the shy way she spoke his name, and the delicate blush that tinted her cheeks when one hinted at intimacy. He knew the softness of her heart toward children, and the courage with which she tried to hide the fear that haunted her. He knew her candor, and her humor. And he had tasted of her indignation and spirit. He knew the gentleness that clothed her, and the innocence and vulnerability that looked out of her eyes. He knew she was everything he had ever wanted and had given up all hope of ever finding.
Justin surged to his feet and threw the documents down onto the desk. How had this happened? With all his careful planning, how had everything gotten so turned around?
He lifted his hands, raked them through his hair, and began to pace the room. It was impossible, that’s all. Impossible! How had Elizabeth happened to arrive at the Haversham Coach House just at that time? And why had she married him? Only the woman that—
Justin jolted to a halt. What had happened to her? To the woman whose letter he had answered? Where was she? His features tightened. The woman. He didn’t even know her name. She had signed all correspondence “Interested”—and he had signed his “Widower.” He quirked his lips into a wry smile. What elaborate care he had paid to every detail of his plan. He had left nothing to chance. Yet the carefully thought out scheme had somehow become rearranged into something entirely different. Thank God it had! Thank God “Interested” had, for whatever reason, not kept their appointment. If she had…if he had left when he started to…if Elizabeth had arrived even a few minutes later…
Something very like panic seized Justin. He had a sudden, urgent desire to run and find Elizabeth—to hold her close. Only a few minutes either way, and he would never have met her. Never have married her. A knot the size of his fist tightened in Justin’s stomach. Something as simple as a few minutes, and their lives would have been irrevocably altered. The thought set him pacing again.
How had it happened? The question went over and over in his mind as he sought an answer. No one had known he was going to be at the Haversham Coach House that evening, except the woman to whom he had written. Not even the judge and Laina had known until a few hours before the appointed time. It was an accident. A bizarre circumstance of fate. It had to be. There was no way Elizabeth could have known. No way she could have planned to—
Justin went dead still. If Elizabeth hadn’t known…if she hadn’t planned it…if she hadn’t written the letter— Then she had never lied to him! Justin’s heart thudded with excitement, then lurched painfully. Unless, of course, it was over the money.
The knot in the pit of his stomach grew. He turned back to the desk and stared down at the documents he had thrown there. Financial settlement contract—the words fairly leaped up at him. Elizabeth had told him she had no money. Justin picked up the contract and slapped it softly against his palm as he began to pace once more, the greed and deceptions of the women in his past rising in his mind.
Elizabeth was quick, intelligent. Even if her appearance at the Haversham Coach House was a quirk of fate, she must have realized immediately the golden opportunity being offered her as the judge explained about the marriage of convenience and the financial settlement. She must have decided, then and there, to marry him for the money. It was the only answer that made sense since she was not with child. It had to be the money. There was no other plausible explanation.
Justin looked down at the title of the paper he held in his hand: Financial Settlement Contract. Was Elizabeth what she claimed to be—or a greedy little liar? The answer was there. Should he give in to the mistrust caused by Rebecca and Margaret and read it? Or should he trust his heart?
Justin convulsed his hand into a fist, crushed the paper into a wadded mass and sent it flying into the fire. The paper flamed brightly, curled into black ash and disintegrated into small black flecks that fell through the grate to the red-hot coals pulsing beneath.
Stunned by what he had done, Justin sank down onto the leather settee, propped his elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands.