Authors: Courting Trouble
Katie Rose (2 page)
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You are a good friend, and I have no right to take it out on you. I’m just so frustrated and disappointed! I will find a way to succeed, mark my words. Somehow I will become a lawyer, even if I have to petition the dean of every school from here to the Pacific!”
Charles rose to stand beside her, admiring the fire in her eyes and the passion in her words. She was Joan of Arc, Morgan le Fay, and Helen of Troy all rolled into one beautiful woman. Something constricted inside
him, and in spite of his own good sense, he lifted her face toward his.
“Winifred,” he said softly, “there is another way. You can become an apprentice.”
“And who would agree to that?” she asked tartly. “If the schools won’t take me seriously, what lawyer would?”
“I would,” Charles said simply. Her gaze widened, and he nodded. “If you are determined, I will take you under my wing and teach you the law.”
The words came out almost before he had formed them. Why was he doing this? he wondered. Winifred was the last woman he should be involved with. She was notorious, a spiritualist, a suffragette, a woman who would cause him nothing but endless trouble. And her ambition, while noble, could only result in her heartache.
Yet Winifred was more than capable—he’d seen some of her work firsthand. He’d spent many a pleasant evening with her arguing legal issues. But dabbling in legalities wasn’t the same as practicing law. The
practice
of law involved endless paperwork, terrible hours, and tedious research. As his apprentice, Winifred would learn what she was really undertaking. Charles figured that after a few months of legal drudgery, she would forget her ambition and confess that it wasn’t what she wanted after all.
“Oh, Charles! How can I thank you?” Winifred flung herself into his arms. Charles felt his body react immediately to her nearness as her lavender scent filled his nostrils and the silkiness of her hair teased his face. Groaning, he was amazed that this slip of a girl should have such an effect on him. It didn’t escape his notice that as his apprentice, Winifred would be working closely with him every day, and he would have endless opportunities to win her. When she finally gave up
this nonsense about becoming an attorney, she would be his for the asking.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Charles said hoarsely. “Yes, we will definitely discuss that in the near future.”
HAPTER 1
S
TATE
A
TTORNEY’S
O
FFICE
H
IRES
L
EGAL
S
IREN!
It has been reported that the state attorney’s office has hired a female, one Winifred Appleton, as an apprentice law clerk. Miss Appleton, an ardent devotee of the law, has offered to work for the office in exchange for instruction to pass the bar examination. The Supreme Court recently heard the case of another female attorney, Myra Bradwell, who had been barred from practice. The Court found that “The right of females to pursue any lawful employment for a livelihood was not ‘one of the privileges and immunities of women as citizens.’ ”
“The paramount destiny and mission of women are to fulfill the noble and benign offices of wife and mother,” Justice Samuel Miller wrote. “This is the law of the Creator. And the rules of civil society must be adapted to the general constitution of things.”
In spite of this, Miss Appleton appears determined to forge ahead. Much like the willful Miss Anthony and the controversial Mrs. Woodhull, Miss
Appleton, with the help of the state attorney, seems to blithely disregard the Court’s ruling. When questioned about her ambition, Miss Appleton said, “I must do what I was destined to do.”
One might speculate why the state’s office would encourage Miss Appleton. Could the office seek to generate publicity, which could then further the political career of the state attorney? Or perhaps there is a more personal motivation, for even this reporter was struck by Miss Appleton’s beauty and elegance, the fire flashing in her eyes, and the moderate tone of her speech.…
Beneath the story ran a much smaller piece about a woman who had been arrested and accused of attempting to murder her husband by arsenic poisoning.
W
inifred Appleton strode into the state attorney’s offices bright and early, ignoring the newsboy at the curb who shouted the screaming headlines. Dressed in a simple navy-blue suit and white shirt that on another woman might have appeared unfeminine, she looked professional and beautiful, her classical features only enhanced by the severity of her costume. Her valise clutched tightly in her hand, she stood inside the hall of the imposing building, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
It was really happening. Her dream was coming true. A thrill raced up her spine as the attorneys bustled past her, the clerks rushed around with reams of paper, and the secretaries organized endless piles of
files and notations. The office had a life of its own, and Winifred was about to become part of it.
Everything would be different now. She would work hard, study, learn everything she possibly could, and pass the bar examination. She would then take her own place in these hallowed halls and, as an equal partner to her male brethren, contribute in the fight to help other women with their legal battles.
It would work. Tears misted her eyes, and she hugged her valise to herself in glee. She had waited so many years for this moment, she could hardly believe it was happening. But it was. And she had one man to thank for it.
Charles Howe. Winifred smiled softly at the thought of the handsome attorney. She would do everything she could to repay him for his kindness, and she would prove to him that she could be an asset, not just his beneficiary. They would work together, side by side, day in and day out. He would show her the ropes, and she would help him with his workload.
Her smile dimmed as that thought led to other, more troubling ones. Charles, she silently admitted, was one of the most compelling men she had ever known. He had a way of looking at her that sent shudders of awareness right down to her high-buttoned boots. Once he had kissed her, and she had been shocked at the physical reaction that flamed through her. Even their legal discourse aroused her on every level, making her corset feel far too tight and her thin chemise unwelcomely warm. If he had this effect on her now, what would happen when she was working closely with him?
Squeezing her eyes shut, Winifred refused to entertain the thought. Charles was a colleague, nothing more, and any romantic overtones would only destroy that fragile relationship. Freshly determined, she
walked up to his office and knocked on the door. It would all work out—she just knew it would.
“
C
OME IN!”
Charles called out, adjusting his tie before the polished silver coffeepot on his desk.
The newspaper lay before him, but he ignored the raucous headline. A broad smile crept over his face as he thought of his new legal assistant. Although he had reviewed his impulsive offer in the cold light of reason, he had to admit, it was a brilliant idea. He would have the maddening Winifred Appleton all to himself. What a golden opportunity for seduction! He could just see her now, those wonderful hazel eyes darkening with desire, her breathless rebuttals transformed into something else entirely, and her full, soft mouth parted for his kiss.… The possibilities were too many to count, and he intended to make the most of every one of them.
The object of his thoughts stepped into the room, looking utterly adorable in her neat blue suit. Winifred smiled uncertainly at him, holding her valise tightly against her. He rose and closed the door, then turned to her. Taking a step back, her questioning gaze settled on him.
“Good morning, Mr. Howe. I’m ready to start. What would you like me to do first?”
Her voice was as starched and formal as her linen collar. Charles frowned. This was not at all the way he had expected her to behave. He was even more disgruntled when she set the valise on the floor and faced him directly with a no-nonsense, businesslike air.
“Miss Appleton, would you like to join me for coffee? I thought we could discuss your duties in a more casual way.” He gestured to a sofa. A tray had been set out on the table before it, along with two
cups, sugar, sweet rolls, and a single rose in a porcelain vase.
“I … already breakfasted,” Winifred said stiffly. “But please help yourself if you haven’t eaten yet. I can take notes while you do.”
She bent over to retrieve her book, and he received a wonderful view of her round backside. Trying desperately not to react, he picked up the coffeepot and retreated to the couch. After pouring a cup of the pungent brew, he patted the sofa, indicating that she should join him.
Winifred’s eyes measured the close distance that would result if she accepted his silent offer and sat on the couch. Instead, she dragged his chair around his desk to a polite distance from the sofa. Picking up her book, she sat on the chair, then eyed him like a schoolmarm waiting on a particularly annoying pupil.
“I thought we could begin with my regular duties,” she said, opening the brand-new book to the first page. “I am certain that you will occasionally need assistance with particular cases, but I assume there are chores that will need to be done daily. Let us start with those.”
Her eyes held all the warmth of a New York winter. Charles stared at her for a long moment, sipping his coffee, wondering what in God’s name she was thinking. This was not an auspicious beginning.
“Miss Appleton,” he began, “you and I have enjoyed a very friendly relationship in the past few months. That doesn’t have to change just because we are now working together. You can safely sit beside me, I assure you. You and I have shared more than a seat together.”
To his delight, her face reddened, and she bit her lip. Unwillingly, his thoughts went back to a night a few months ago at the Rutherfords’ ball. Winifred had
been dressed like a goddess in gold, her hair artfully swept up, her earrings lighting up a face that needed no artifice. She had stood out among the other girls like a lily in a field of cornflowers, and Charles had been completely bewitched by her. That was when he had kissed her, and the memory of that moment was seared onto his brain.
Was she thinking of the same thing? Unconsciously, she moistened her lips. Charles watched in fascination as she drew herself up, inhaled, then squared off to face him directly.
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Winifred said briskly. “Our relationship, I mean. I am certain you will agree that in order for our association to be mutually beneficial, it cannot be complicated by romance. Such a situation would be disastrous and would ultimately result in my withdrawal as your apprentice.”
“I see,” Charles said.
“Furthermore, I do not blame you for thinking I desired your … attentions in the past, for I certainly did nothing to discourage them. In fact, one might even think I did the opposite.”
“Yes, one might,” he agreed.
She shot him a sideways glance. “You are not making this easy for me.”
“I didn’t intend to.” He put down the coffee cup and rose to stand beside her. Before she could react, he reached for her hand and pulled her into an upright position. Her notebook fell to the floor.
“My book—”
“Forget the damned book,” he growled. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and experience those liberties all over again. Thankfully, the surging pulse in her wrist told him that in spite of her words, her feelings for him were alive and well. Forcing himself to stay in control, he spoke slowly. “Winifred,
we need to talk about this. I am no schoolboy to be dismissed that easily.”
“Mr. Howe—” She began stiffly.
“Charles.”
“Charles.” She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes, as if struggling within herself. “You know my views on all this. We have been seeing each other informally, I know, but now that we are working together, I assume things will change. I did not suppose you meant
this
when you offered me the apprenticeship—”
“Of course I didn’t!” he said, appalled that she would even suggest such a thing.
“Then you must respect my wishes,” she said. “I want nothing more than a friendship or a working association. You are a good friend, Charles, and I don’t wish to change that. As a lawyer, you must agree that logic and emotion do not mix. I am sure you understand.” She gave him a meaningful look, as if she had put together an argument so compelling that he couldn’t possibly object.
He understood all right—much more than she would ever know. What did he want from her? He wasn’t sure. She would certainly not be the best choice of wife for him, for as one of the Appleton sisters, Winifred was notorious. His family had made it clear that they did not approve of her and that many other women would be more acceptable. In spite of all that, he had not been able to put her from his mind, and he’d be damned if he’d give up on her now.
A smile came to his face, and he searched hers, looking deeply into those magical hazel eyes. “I think I do understand. You claim you are not interested in pursuing a more personal relationship with me. What if I prove otherwise?”