now, she’d be grateful for the things that had turned out well. At least she wasn’t stranded in the next town over. At least she’d made it this far. At least he didn’t know about the scandal. Yet.
He was suspicious of her. Sooner or later that skepticism was going to get the better of him, and he was going to make inquiries. He’d sent to Philadelphia for a bride, after all, which meant he kept in touch with people he knew there. How long could she hide? Once he mentioned their renewed acquaintance to his friends back east, someone was bound to share the salacious gossip. After all, it had only been three months since Edward’s death had made her a widow.
At least letters traveled slowly in this part of the country. Perhaps by the time he discovered her secret, she’d have enough money to relocate to another town.
“I don’t need a doctor,” she grumbled. “I just need a little rest.” She stifled a yawn. Lately, it felt as though no matter how much she slept, she still needed another hour or two.
Russ touched the gash on his forehead. “The doctor is for me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“Relax, Anna. I’m teasing you. I’m trying to put you at ease. You used to enjoy my jokes.”
She tugged at a loose button on the wrist of her glove. “That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then.”
He rested his hand over hers, dwarfing her fingers in a brief embrace before pulling away. “You have my condolences on your father.”
His touch stirred up long-dormant feelings. The statement was a diplomatic concession considering the treatment he’d received from her father following the jilting.
“His death was painless.” Her stomach dropped. Russ knew her father had passed away, therefore he must keep in touch with people back home. People who might share the circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. “He didn’t suffer.”
“Losing a loved one is never easy.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs once more. He was going to discover the truth, and then what? Would he keep her secret?
“He always seemed invincible.” She tugged on the loose thread. If she lost the button on her glove, she’d never find a match. She’d have to replace them all. “He was always such a powerful presence, I somehow thought he’d live forever.”
“I suppose we all think our parents are invincible when we’re young.”
A memory tugged at the edges of her recollections. There was a hint of scandal surrounding Russ’s father, though she couldn’t recall the exact circumstances. She’d been too young at the time, and whispered conversations had come to a halt when she entered the room.
She yanked the button free. What did buttons matter? What did any of this matter anyway? There was no use delving into either of their pasts. After today, she doubted she’d see Russ again. He probably wanted to be rid of her just as quickly as she wanted to escape his company.
Disappointment warred with relief. The less he saw of her, the less likely he was to consider her past.
If only he was the ogre she’d invented over the past five years instead of this handsome, solicitous savior. Then again, nothing else had gone as planned; why should her experience with Russ be any different? She’d missed the train, she’d been accosted by outlaws, and Russ wasn’t the cruel villain she’d invented after he’d jilted her sister. The more she knew about him, the more he challenged the assumptions she’d brought forward from all those years ago.
She was tired. She was out of sorts. Perhaps she simply wasn’t reading beneath the surface of his actions. The facts were firmly embedded in her memory: Charlotte had eloped weeks after the jilting to avoid the scandal, and their father had disowned her. Anna hadn’t spoken to her sister since.
If Charlotte and Russ had married, then Anna would still be in touch with her sister. If she’d had Charlotte to lean on after their father’s death, she might not have entered such a hasty and unfortunate marriage. If Russ had greeted her announcement about Susannah with anger and recriminations instead of pushing his feelings aside, then she’d feel better about deceiving him.
If. If. If.
The disparity in the villain she’d created and the man before her made her all the more determined to repay her debt quickly. Yet more questions balanced on the tip of her tongue. Considering the outsize role Russ had played in her life, she didn’t know much about him. He’d been in the war. His father was gone. He had siblings. That’s all Anna could recall.
Against her better judgment, she was hungry for information about the life Russ led outside of his law practice. Perhaps the information might even be useful as she settled, albeit temporarily, in the town.
“You lost your father, too, didn’t you?” she asked.
“He’s not part of our family any longer.”
Shock rippled through her. She’d always assumed the hint of scandal was linked to his father’s death, but the evasive answer pointed to something else. “What was he like?”
She didn’t know why she’d asked such a personal question beyond a nagging sense of puzzlement about his father. Even if Charlotte had known the truth, she was hardly likely to confide in her younger sister.
“He was a good man,” Russ said, his voice flat. “Proud. Honorable. Loyal to his family. Too proud, sometimes.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stirred. Though his words were glowing with praise, the tone didn’t match his sentiment. There was a slight edge in Russ’s voice, a pursing of his lips when he spoke. As someone familiar with keeping secrets, she recognized the signs. There was more to Russ’s father than what he was saying.
“You have a brother, as well, don’t you?” she prodded.
“Two of them, to be precise. Seth lives just outside of Cowboy Creek with his new wife. They recently adopted three boys and his wife’s niece.”
“Oh my, that’s quite a household.”
“I haven’t seen my younger brother, Adam, in years.” This time the sorrow in Russ’s voice was obvious. “I used to receive letters, but I haven’t gotten one in months. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I have to believe he’s still out there somewhere. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’d know if he was gone.” Russ scoffed. “That probably sounds stupid.”
“Not at all.”
Anna’s eyes burned. Charlotte had always been a distant, ethereal creature. The years between them had been a chasm. Charlotte had been older and elegant, with little patience for a younger sister with dirt beneath her fingernails and muddy circles over her knees from digging in the garden.
Even during the war, Charlotte had been sought after by the young bachelors in the community. She’d had pale blond hair, soft blue eyes and a delicate figure. She spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. Everything about her seemed to attract men like honeybees to nectar.
How many times had Anna knelt on the balcony above the parlor, peeking through the railings, when Charlotte was holding court?
