Katie Rose (24 page)

“I have a bit of a headache,” he replied to the pretty woman.

“Oh, I am sorry. Perhaps some tonic would help. You should probably try that instead of drinking so much wine. I think it only aggravates a headache.”

“I am certain you’re right,” Charles said, ordering the servant to refill his wineglass. Drinking deeply of the rich burgundy once more, he scowled as Winifred said something, then Jared threw back his head in mirth. When Winifred accepted the glazed carrots from the waiter, Jared insisted upon arranging them on her platter. He used any excuse to touch her, admiring her ear bobs so he could finger her soft white lobes, then commenting on her hair so he could smooth a stray curl from her face. And when the servant came by with an assortment of cakes for dessert, Jared teasingly insisted that she sample more than one, personally feeding her a bite from his own plate.

They looked like a courting couple, Charles thought bitterly. Why did propriety never seem to concern his associate? But he knew why. Whispers of a romantic liaison with the notorious Winifred Appleton would only enhance Jared’s reputation. By flirting with her, Jared had nothing to lose.

A sudden vision of his future flashed into Charles’s
mind. Numbly, he reached for another drink. Without Winifred, he would probably wed Elizabeth Billings. He would buy a good house on Fifth Avenue and raise a brood of children who would go on to Harvard or Princeton. And he would forever sit across the table, watching the woman he truly wanted enjoying herself with another man.

In that one moment, everything crystallized for him. He had to have Winifred. His need was more than sexual desire, although he felt that intensely. It was even more than a need for intellectual stimulation, although that was important too. The fact was, she was his other half, the one whose opinion mattered more to him than any other’s, the face he looked for in a crowd. He was desperately in love with Winifred Appleton.

The guests rose after supper, and Jared slid his arm around Winifred’s waist, his hand resting possessively on the delicate curve of her hip. A blind red rage swept over Charles. All he could think of was Winifred standing before him, naked in the firelight in their hotel suite. All he could see now was Jared Marton, sliding his hand across her naked flesh, enjoying that same pleasure. All he could envision was Jared, bringing Winifred to fulfillment, seeing the way she closed her eyes in ecstasy, hearing those sharp little cries as she reached her climax.

Years of restraint, legal education, and observance of propriety went right out the door. Charles could see nothing but a blaze of outrage as Jared led Winifred toward the ballroom.

“Will you excuse me?” he said thickly to Elizabeth, who opened her mouth in surprise. Nothing mattered except that he stop the blatant seduction of the woman who should be his. Stepping across the floor, he accosted Winifred and Jared.

“Charles, old boy!” Jared boomed. “I am delighted to have a chance to speak to you. I must say, I have been enjoying Miss Appleton’s company so much, I forgot everyone else!”

“I’ll bet,” Charles said, then punched him as hard as he could.

The contact was solid, and his years of boxing lessons paid off. With immense satisfaction, Charles saw his tormentor stumble backward, cupping his chin, then crumble to the floor. Almost immediately a crowd gathered murmuring in shock.

Winifred gasped. “Charles, are you insane? You hit him!” Shocked, she reached for Jared in an attempt to help him to his feet.

But the young attorney wisely stayed where he was, refusing her help. Something sparkled in his eyes, then was gone in a second as reporters flocked to the scene. Pencils scribbled furiously, and they shouted questions, each of them trying to get a scoop on the scandalous story.

“Mr. Marton, are you hurt?”

“What precipitated this?”

“Why did Mr. Howe strike you?”

“Is it true, Miss Appleton, that you are Mr. Howe’s mistress?”

“Has the Black case become a lovers’ quarrel?”

Belatedly, Charles understood that he had precipitated this feeding frenzy. The warm drunkenness he had felt earlier vanished. Astonished at his own lack of control and the depth of his anger, he now felt deep remorse and shame. Helping Jared to his feet, he began to publicly apologize, but Jared quickly interrupted.

“Gentlemen, I simply slipped and fell. There is no story here. I suggest you all go back to the party.”

The reporters jostled each other to get closer. Charles flashed Jared a look of profound gratitude.
Jared refused to respond in any other way, repeating the same tale over and over. But the reporters, scenting a scandal, were relentless.

Penelope quickly escorted the besieged Winifred away, giving Jared a meaningful glance, while the lawyers attempted to control the damage. Still, the episode was too hot to cover up. Within minutes, the story had circulated through the ballroom, and spectators added their own version of what had transpired. It had been, everyone agreed, a night to remember.

SCANDAL AT GOVERNOR’S BALL! FIGHT
BETWEEN PROSECUTORS OVER LEGAL SIREN!
COURTHOUSE RUMORED A LOVE NEST!

Charles groaned, tossing the morning paper aside in disgust. In spite of the three cups of coffee he’d already had, his head pounded fearfully, and he had to shade his eyes from the dim sunlight pouring in through his window.

It could not have happened. He had been hoping and praying all night that it had just been a nasty dream, one that, upon awakening, he could put from his thoughts. But the newspaper, blaring the headline in black and white, would not let him entertain that hopeful fantasy.

He had completely lost control. He couldn’t remember ever doing such a thing before. Even as a child, he had resisted schoolroom bullies, using his brains instead of his brawn to settle disputes. Yet in the course of last evening, in a fit of jealous anger, he had struck a fellow lawyer and shocked the woman he cared deeply about.

What had come over him? He scarcely recognized
himself. Jared had been enjoying himself at his expense, but that was no excuse for his own behavior. Technically, he had no rights to Winifred. He was not engaged to her, he was not courting her, and he had no prior claim to her. She could see Jared or anyone else she chose.

Suddenly the man he had been thinking about stepped into his office and closed the door. Charles stood up instantly, more embarrassed then ever when he saw the bruise on the attorney’s chin. Lifting his hands helplessly, he felt like sinking through the floor.

“Jared, I am so sorry,” Charles said softly. “I hope one day you can forgive me. I was just thinking about it when you walked in. I honestly do not know what came over me.”

“Oh, I have an idea.” To his amazement, Jared seemed more amused than upset. He dropped into a seat and lightly fingered his chin, wincing when he touched the bruise. “You have a hell of a left there. I guess those boxing lessons paid off. You should have warned me.”

Charles took his own seat. “Say what you want—you are perfectly entitled. I will even let you take a swing at me if that would make things better. I can not believe I did such a thing.”

Jared laughed, helping himself to some of Charles’s coffee. “I did not come here to rub it in. I just wanted to clear the air. Charles, I understand what happened, and truth be known, it was partly my fault. I should apologize to you.”

“What?” Charles gazed at him in disbelief.

“It is perfectly apparent that you have feelings for Miss Appleton, deep feelings. I knew that, yet I entertained myself, knowing it was likely to bother you. I admit, however, that I am attracted to her as well. She has the most beautiful—”

“Jared.” Charles cleared his throat. The possessive feelings rose in him once more, surprising him again in their intensity.

Jared laughed. “Charles, what is going on between the two of you? It is obvious you cannot leave each other alone, yet you are not engaged, not even courting—unless I am deceived.”

Charles choked on his coffee, aware that he owed Jared some kind of explanation for his behavior, but he was unwilling to divulge the full extent of his relationship with Winifred. “Miss Appleton is not like other women,” he finished lamely.

“I’ll say.” Jared grinned. “Do you know that she believes you do not take her seriously? That you think she will just quit and forget about being a lawyer? I have to admit, I reminded her of what a closed-minded scoundrel you can be—”

“Thanks,” Charles said dryly.

“Interestingly, though, she rushed to your defense. Miss Appleton has a blind spot where you are concerned. Along with a great deal of loyalty. I would hate to see that wasted.”

“Jared, what are you getting at?”

He shrugged, his jaunty demeanor gone. “I suppose I have decided to befriend the lady and am thus concerned about her welfare. Have you seen the morning paper?”

“Yes.” Charles buried his face in his hands.

“Miss Appleton’s name is in serious jeopardy.”

“I know.” Charles lifted his head and stared at the front page once more. “It will take everything in my power to restore it. This is entirely my fault, and I am prepared to do just that. I feel terrible about it.”

“There is one other option,” Jared shrugged. “You could marry her.”

“What?”

“Sure, why not?” Jared asked casually. “After all, this entire scene will then be described as romantic. You will be seen as a modern-day Byron, and Winifred the damsel in distress. You could stay up well into the night, discussing legal dilemmas.… It could work.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I think I will figure out my own solution,” Charles said smoothly. The last thing he wanted to admit to Jared was Winifred’s reluctance to wed him.

“Well, if you decide you don’t want her, I will be more than happy to stop in and console her—”

“Jared,” Charles cut him off quickly, “if you do not mind, I am not entirely rational where Miss Appleton and you are concerned. Trust me, I will put things right where she is concerned—and without your help.”

He ignored the other man’s laughter.

I
T HAD BEEN
a wretched morning, and Winifred groaned. Penelope had thought last night’s events incredibly romantic. She had wanted to know every detail that had led up to Charles striking Jared, and she had gigglingly suggested he was madly jealous. Winifred dismissed such talk as nonsense.

Thankfully, Aunt Eve’s presence had quieted the exuberant Penelope, for neither of them wanted to alarm the elderly lady. Talk would reach her soon enough. Still, Winifred could not help the feeling of guilt and shame that swept over her.

Somehow she was responsible for all this, she felt. Jared and Charles had been friends and associates for a long time—until now. She had come between them. Deep down, she knew she had flirted with Jared on
purpose, in order to hurt Charles for being with Elizabeth. Every time Charles had leaned his dark head close to Elizabeth’s to listen to her chatter, or called the waiter to refill her glass, Winifred had felt a pang of possessive jealousy.

In vain, she tried to explain to Penelope that this situation was not funny at all. She had fought to gain an equal footing with the other lawyers, but she would now only be seen as a silly woman, caught in the midst of a lovers’ scandal.

Worse, as she couldn’t tell Penelope, her own actions had made Charles do something foolish, something that would no doubt make him sorry he ever knew her. His own good name had been besmirched last night. It would be best for everyone if she never saw him again, as much as the prospect hurt. She had to go see him one last time, to tell him that, and somehow make things right again between him and Jared. Snatching up her cloak, she headed for the state’s offices.

“I
AM HERE
to see Mr. Howe.”

Mr. Crocker took Winifred’s card, holding the farthest corner of it as if the thing were poisoned.

“I will tell him you are here.”

The little man left, and Winifred, left in the familiar surroundings, glanced down at his desk. The newspaper lay there, the headline blaring last night’s events. She winced. No wonder the secretary had treated her like a pariah.

“He will see you.” Crocker indicated the door disapprovingly.

Winifred swept down the hall with as much dignity as she could muster. She could not blame Crocker for thinking ill of her. He was loyal to Charles and had
every reason to see her as a jezebel, a woman who had disrupted their office and come between the two attorneys.

When she entered Charles’s office, he was busy scribbling something, his dark head turned down, concentrating on his work. Winifred took a moment and openly admired the square cut of his coat, his muscled shoulders, the elegant line of his profile, and the sensual curve of his mouth. She had started to think of him as hers, and last night had shown her clearly that he was not. She forced herself to swallow hard, refusing to give in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to keep control. This would be hard enough without her making a fool of herself.

As if sensing her presence, Charles glanced up, a smile coming to his face. “Winnie, I am glad you came. I was going to come to see you today. Please, take a seat.”

“No, thank you,” she said formally. She had to make this quick, or she’d lose her nerve. “This won’t take long. Charles, I just want to tell you how very sorry I am for what happened—”

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” he admitted, then looked puzzled. “What on earth do you have to be sorry for? You, of all people, were innocent in this.”

“Not so innocent,” she said softly. “I knew you might be upset when you saw me with Mr. Marton, and I took advantage of that. I suppose I was upset with you because—”

Her voice broke as she realized what she had been about to admit. Charles must have sensed it, too, for he got to his feet and quickly shut the door, then locked it. Then he came to her side.

“Yes?”

He was standing so close, she could lean into his
embrace. Winifred wanted more than anything to throw herself into his arms, beg his forgiveness, and tell him what he meant to her. But she could not do that. Instead, she fought the tender feelings inside her.