Only You Page 13

  “It’s not the current fashion,” she said, “but if we add a flounce crinoline petticoat it may suffice.”

  “It’s lovely as it is.” Anna caught the soft fabric between her fingers and slowly drew her hands down the length of the skirt. A wide band of black velvet adorned the hem, and inserts of black velvet graced each side of the skirt, ending in two points. “I’ve never owned something so beautiful.”

  “My grandmother called it her magic dress. I don’t know why, but maybe it’ll bring you some magic tonight.”

  Anna sighed. “I could certainly use it.”

  “It should fit you. My grandmother was tiny like you.”

  “It’ll fit. I can tell just by looking.” She clasped it to her bosom. “Are you sure you want me to wear it?”

  “Positive.” Claire sensed that her grandmother would approve of Anna wearing her special gown. Claire’s own dress was more current, but not elaborate in style. The tunic was made of sapphire-blue velvet, with matching pomponnette velvet for the skirt.

  Anna dressed her own hair then they helped each other into their gowns. When Anna donned the emerald-colored dress, Claire stared at her.

  “I can see why my grandmother called that her magic dress. You’re beautiful, Anna.”

  Anna’s eyes misted and she smoothed her palms down the bodice. “I can almost feel pretty again.”

  The bruises on Anna’s arms were covered by the long fitted sleeves, but a hint of yellow still rode her cheekbone where Claire suspected Larry had struck her. No woman with such bruises could feel beautiful; Claire knew that firsthand. To see Anna take such pleasure in wearing the gown filled Claire’s heart with both joy and pain. Anna was beautiful. She shouldn’t need a dress to make her feel that way.

  “You are pretty, Anna. And you deserve to wear beautiful dresses and go out for an enjoyable evening’.” Claire curtsied to her friend, hoping to lighten the evening. “Let’s dance our way to the cantata.”

  A tender smile tipped Anna’s lips.

  “Come along.” Claire fanned her skirt and twirled in a circle. Dipping and swaying, she swept into the hallway and descended the stairs.

  Anna followed her into the foyer.

  “We can dance down Main Street,” Claire said, taking their coats from the closet.

  Anna finally laughed.

  Claire’s heart lifted. As hard as her life with Jack had been, she had survived without too many scars. Anna’s situation was far more painful because Larry was still alive.

  Claire handed Anna’s coat to her. “Let’s pretend we are rich, independent women tonight. We can do or say anything we like.”

  “Let’s do it.” Anna buttoned her coat and waltzed onto the porch with forced gaiety.

  They left the house and chatted all the way to Union Hall.

  Claire paid their admission and reminded herself not to think about her last eight dollars. She could worry about her desperate circumstances tomorrow. Tonight she wanted to escape her past and her present, to exist in a place of safety and joy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Claire and Anna hung their coats then headed into the main room of the hall where the cantata would soon take place. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows dressed with garnet-colored velvet draperies lined the north and south walls. A massive, gas lit chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room and casting a warm yellow glow on the crowd gathered below.

  The excitement of the evening was palpable in the air, and Claire breathed it in. She was so thankful not to be spending another evening alone in her boardinghouse. The cavernous hall hummed with excited chatter and the rustling of evening gowns.

  Anna tapped Claire’s elbow. “Our neighbor has spotted you.” She gestured to a small cluster of men and ladies standing less than ten feet away.

  Claire looked straight into Boyd Grayson’s golden eyes. A hint of a smile lifted his lips, and he nodded his head.

  She returned his silent greeting, but noticed a female hand tucked in the crook of his elbow.

  Her gaze shifted up to a tantalizing bare shoulder and a delicate, exotic face. The woman’s hair was piled high on her head in a mass of ebony curls that spilled down her neck to her shoulder blades. She smiled at one of the men beside her, and the sharp claw of jealousy clutched Claire’s chest. The woman was beyond beautiful.

  An odd sickness filled her stomach, and she dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. It shouldn’t matter that Boyd was with a lady. Despite the woman’s beauty, she was probably just one of many for him. Beautiful women flocked to men like Boyd. Like Jack. Claire had given up trying to compete with those ladies long ago.

  She wouldn’t deny that she was attracted to her handsome neighbor, but she was smart enough to ignore it.

  Boyd lifted his hand and beckoned her and Anna to join him and his group of friends. Claire didn’t want to meet the pretty lady on Boyd’s arm, but she forced herself to move forward.

  Boyd clasped Anna’s hands. “You’re breathtaking, Anna. Marry me,” he joked.

  She glanced at Claire. “This really is a magic dress.”

  Claire smiled, glad that Anna hadn’t flinched away from Boyd’s gentle teasing.

  “How are you, Anna?” he asked, concern replacing his flirtatious smile.

  “Fine,” she said quietly. “Claire is good medicine for me.”

  “I’m sure.” He reached out, caught Claire’s hand and pressed a courtly kiss to it. “I’m glad to see you out this evening.”

  The woman he was standing with turned and eyed Claire with open curiosity.

  “This is Anna Levens and my neighbor Claire Ashier. Ladies, this is Martha Newmaine from Buffalo.”

  Martha shot a sidelong glance at Boyd then greeted Anna, but her gaze lingered on Claire. “Are you the lady who started the movement to close the saloons?”

  “Dr. Lewis did that, but I’m doing my best to help him succeed.”

  To her surprise, Miss Newmaine smiled. “I’ve heard that your efforts are upsetting the saloon owners.” She turned her beautiful brown eyes toward Boyd, a teasing smile on her face. “Are you going to close your saloon for her?”

  A lazy grin touched his lips. “I’m afraid not. I wouldn’t even do it for you, darling.”

  Her smile widened and she rubbed the sleeve of his suit coat. “What if I threaten to spill our secret?”

  “Then I’ll return you to Buffalo.”

  She laughed and turned back to Claire. “I’m not ready to take a train home just yet, so I’m afraid you’ll have to fight this battle on your own.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Newmaine. There are over three hundred of us working for temperance in our community. We’ll succeed.”

  Martha flashed a stunning smile at Boyd. “If that’s the case, you’ll have to come to Buffalo to open a saloon.”

  Unwilling to witness their flirtation, Claire nodded to Martha and Boyd. “If you’ll excuse us, the cantata is about to begin,” she said.

  “I’ll escort you ladies to your seats,” Boyd suggested, capturing Claire’s hand. He tucked it into the crook of his elbow then glanced at Martha. “I’ll be right back for you.” She nodded, and he gave his other elbow to Anna, who took it willingly.

  Claire tried to pull away, but he drew his elbow against his side, trapping her fingers against his ribs. He tipped his head and put his mouth near her ear. “You’re stunning tonight.”

  “So is your companion, Mr. Grayson.”

  “She is magnificent, isn’t she?”

  She was, but Claire was too shocked by his blatant admission and her own hurt reaction to answer.

  “I’m surprised to see you and Anna here,” he went on.

  She found it more surprising to see him here, and with that gorgeous female hanging on his arm, but she said nothing. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want another word with the charming, self-satisfied flirt. Because every word hurt.

  He stopped and guided her into the row where Anna had quickly sea
ted herself. Claire sat in the end seat beside her. She breathed a sigh of relief when Boyd left, but to her irritation, he guided Martha into the seats directly across the row. He sat in the end chair and nodded to Claire who was sitting a mere three feet away from him.

  To avoid looking at him, she turned and engaged Anna in conversation, hoping their chatting would calm both of them.

  Suddenly, forty people gathered at the front of the hall. Their joyful singing filled the room and flowed through Claire. She closed her eyes and listened with her whole being, letting the song lift her. This was worth her precious money.

  The solo singer Estella came on stage, singing with such power and beauty, Claire was mesmerized by the performance. Estella hosted a make-believe party, and invited the male singers. To entertain the ladies, the men battled with pretend snowballs, which made Claire think of her childhood and of the unfettered joy she had once felt romping in the snow with her sister and friends.

  The talented group of singers and their performance captivated her.

  Estella’s true love William, defeated Jenkins, the man who was planning to propose to Estella. Watching Jenkins try to win Estella’s affection made Claire and the audience laugh.

  Later, when Estella and William slipped away to express their love for one another, Claire’s heart felt achingly empty. Despite her hoydenish ways as a young girl, she’d dreamed of a dashing prince who would fall in love with her. She imagined him to be tall with dark hair and sparkling eyes that promised passion. He would be her strength and her weakness, her lover and her friend, her slayer of dragons. He would enjoy her too-forward manner and laugh at her dry sense of humor. Their days would be filled with sunshine and laughter, their nights with cuddling and companionship.

  The young girl in her still believed that man existed, still hoped that he could rescue her from living a scared, dull life.

  But the woman in her knew it was a fairy tale, a dream, and that any joy in her life would be of her own making.

  As the cantata was ending, William and Estella came upon Jenkins, who, not succeeding in gaining Estella’s heart, concluded to marry Araminta, one of the singers. The audience smiled and sighed with satisfaction as forty voices rose in a good night chorus to finish the performance.

  Claire slipped her hand into her pocket and squeezed the little carving in her palm. She listened to the singers’ beautiful voices while she dreamed of love, of a more youthful and hopeful time of her life. What if Jack had been kind, if he’d really loved her? Would she, like her grandmother and Estella, still feel drawn to another man? Would she still feel drawn to Boyd Grayson, or would she be content as Jack’s wife?

  The gas stage-lighting cast a glow across the audience’s upturned faces. Claire glanced at Boyd, but he wasn’t watching the performance. He was looking at her.

  Warmth surged through her chest, and she clenched her hand around the carving. Why was he looking at her when Martha was sitting beside him?

  His face was half in shadow and his eyes were dark, but she saw his lips lift in a smile—for her. There was no one else in the shadowed room he could be smiling at.

  With his dark coloring and handsome face, Boyd could be the prince she’d once imagined. But the prince she imagined would never have taken her to a cemetery on Christmas Eve. Of all the unromantic things in the world to do, Boyd had chosen the one thing that had touched her the deepest. Somehow he was finding every way possible to wrench open her heart. He was giving her gifts she couldn’t refuse, making her laugh when she wanted to cry, filling her lonely house with his and Sailor’s silly antics.

  What she had once felt for Jack in the earliest days couldn’t come close to all the ways Boyd had already touched her heart with his smile, his charm, his silly dog, and his art.

  She was older and wiser now. She understood the difference between real life and make-believe. But she wondered what her life would have been like if she’d met Boyd instead of Jack.

  “Beautiful,” Anna said with a sigh, rising to her feet with the rest of the audience and clapping vigorously.

  Claire turned away and got to her feet. She was still an idle dreamer. Boyd was with Martha. When Martha returned to Buffalo, Boyd would find another beautiful lady to cling to his arm.

  Desmona Edwards was looking straight at Anna. Claire moved forward to shield her friend from the woman. Desmona was too nosy. She would ask too many questions. Anna needed peace and privacy, not an interrogation from the prying old crone.

  They moved into the congested aisle ahead of Boyd and Martha. They couldn’t hurry because of the crowd filling the hall, but Claire felt Boyd’s tall body shifting behind hers. She imagined him looking at her while he held Martha’s hand in the crook of his elbow.

  Some men did that. Jack had. Those men held one woman on their arm and ogled others.

  Jack’s arm had been reserved for her, but every woman in the crowd had been his. He’d admired them, winked at them, cast lascivious gazes that made them giggle. He was tall and golden and gorgeous.

  Claire had believed she would feel proud on his arm. She’d felt like a ball and chain.

  Boyd touched her arm and stopped her. “Beebe’s Saloon was loud earlier, so pay attention on your way home.”

  His unexpected touch made her jump and set her heart racing. Silently she called herself a fool. He only wanted to caution her to be careful. He wasn’t flirting with her. He was simply being considerate.

  She nodded to Martha. “Good-bye, Miss Newmaine. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon, Mrs. Ashier.” The woman turned to Anna. “That dress is lovely on you.”

  “It’s a magic dress,” Anna said again, her smile so sad and wistful smile it made Claire’s heart ache.

  They chatted and shivered all the way home. Inside, they took off their coats, made tea, and carried their cups to the parlor.

  “What was your favorite part?” Anna asked, as Claire knelt to stoke the fire.

  “When William confessed his love for Estella,” she said. “What was your favorite part?”

  “I couldn’t possibly choose.” Anna released a dreamy sigh. “I loved every minute. It was wonderful to escape life for a while. Thank you for taking me and for letting me wear this dress.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  “I did,” Anna said. “Did you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I thought you might have been uncomfortable with Boyd watching you all evening.”

  Claire brushed her hands across her skirt. “He wasn’t watching me.”

  “He most certainly was! His eyes barely left your face during the whole performance.”

  “Nonsense. Martha had his full attention.”

  “No, Claire. You did.” Anna sighed. “That man is definitely attracted to you.”

  “Twaddle.” She flapped her hand and sat in the rocker. “Boyd Grayson is attracted to every woman.”

  “That’s not true. All women are attracted to him, but I suspect very few of them can get his attention. Believe me, you’ve got his full attention.”

  “Only because he’s playing games with me, hoping I’ll stop marching and badgering him to close his saloon. This is sport for him, Anna.”

  Anna sipped her tea in silence, but her downcast eyes reflected her disagreement.

  “Why would Boyd bother with me when he has women like Martha swooning at his feet?” Claire asked

  “Because you’re beautiful and because you aren’t swooning at his feet.”

  “Then he’s pestering me because he sees me as a challenge?”

  “Possibly.” Anna lowered her cup. “Although I think he’s genuinely attracted to you. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “That’s because he’s a rake.”

  Anna leaned back on the sofa. “Rake or not, that man is smitten.”

  Bosh. Ridiculous. Utter nonsense. Boyd Grayson was smitten with Martha. Even now he was probably seducing the
lovely woman

  The thought pierced Claire’s heart with such pain, she shoved the image from her mind and took a large gulp of tea. The hot liquid scorched her throat and made her eyes water. Served her right for being such a ninny and letting her mind wander to such unsavory thoughts.

  How on earth had she let that reprobate sneak beneath her guard?

  It was that carving. That little gift from him had been the beginning of her downfall. The exquisite piece of art had elicited her curiosity about the man. From the first, she’d been awed by his talent and attracted to his good looks. But it was the way he tended her injured foot, the way he loved his dog, the way he built that astonishing snow castle just for her, that had touched her heart.

  Had he given Martha one of his carvings?

  Were they laughing and flirting with each other now?

  How had she allowed herself to have feelings for Boyd?

  How could she be so utterly pathetic?

  Anna yawned and stretched like a cat. “I’m exhausted and relaxed and truly happy for the first time in ages. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed before I start dwelling on my life again.”

  “Good idea.” Claire placed her teacup on the stand beside her then followed Anna from the room.

  Her gentleman boarders opened the front door and entered the foyer holding large goblets of whiskey-colored liquid and laughing uproariously.

  “Ah, our lovely hostess,” said the taller of the two men.

  “Good evening, Mr. Carver. Mr. Hosington,” Claire said, exchanging a wary glance with Anna.

  “George and I were hoping to see you ladies this evening,” Mr. Carver said in a too friendly manner.

  “Why?” Claire asked then cursed herself for allowing her suspicion be so obvious. “Was there something you gentleman needed?”

  “Just your company. Join us,” he said, gesturing toward the parlor with his glass.

  Anna backed toward the stairs, and Claire gave her a discreet nod. “It’s been a long day for the both of us,” Claire said. “We’ll bid you gentleman a good night.”