Katie Rose (9 page)

Winifred didn’t know what she was asking, Charles was certain of that. But what were her motives?

“Winnie, this is not because of the apprenticeship, is it?” he questioned. “I would not want you to enter into something like this because you felt indebted to me.”

“Of course not!” Winifred said, thunderstruck. “I am clerking for you in exchange for your help in preparing for the bar examination. I certainly feel I am contributing more than my share to your office,” she bristled.

“Yes, you are,” Charles said softly. “But Winnie, I am not convinced you have thought this all the way through. Someone here has to have some sense. There are many possible repercussions, physically, emotionally—I am not certain you understand what you are proposing.”

“I most certainly do.” She gave him a penetrating look. “Charles, I am determined to do this, but I sense you are not entirely committed to carrying it through.
I find this peculiar, given that you have done everything in your power to seduce me since I have been here. But if you have had second thoughts, then I will proceed with someone else, if necessary. Perhaps Mr. Marton will stand in for you, if you feel compromised.”

Charles swore under his breath. Winifred knew unerringly how to skewer him, and it was all he could do not to turn her over his knee. Yet in all fairness, she was perfectly correct. It was he that had seduced her—too successfully, it seemed. As she gazed at him with all the directness of a hardened trial lawyer, her hazel eyes brimming with eagerness, he realized he could not resist her, no matter what his resolutions or his common sense told him. He was as trapped as she. Chuckling, he shook his head in defeat.

“All right, then. Where and when do you want to commence with this?”

Winifred breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know about such things,” she confessed. “I had hoped you—”

“Would figure it out, since I have been so successful so far,” Charles said in amusement. “The best I have managed is stolen kisses in the library. I will have to give this some thought. One does not have an assignation without a careful plan. My home is out of the question. There are too many servants, and reporters have been following me there. I do not think you would want your name in print in that sort of context.”

“Goodness, no!” Winifred said, appalled.

Charles smiled. “I suppose a hotel would be safer, but many of the more elite establishments frown on such doings. What I’d have to do is register us under an assumed name, as husband and wife. Would that trouble you unduly?”

“No.” She shook her head, clearly perplexed at how complicated this was.

“All right. When did you want to … proceed?”

Winifred gazed at him uncertainly. “Why I think … the sooner the better.”

Charles laughed quietly. When Winifred glanced at him questioningly, he shook his head. “How did I ever get so lucky to know a woman like you?” She started to say something, but he reached for her and kissed her hard, leaving her speechless. When he finally released her, they were both belatedly aware of someone knocking at the door.

“Go away!” They cried out in unison. The knocking stopped, and after a moment, they heard footsteps disappear into the hall.

“Yes, the hotel would be a much better place to continue this discussion,” Charles said, reluctantly releasing Winifred. She felt so good in his arms, all soft and trembling. The self-assured lawyer was gone, and in her place was an innocent temptress. “Tonight then, at about seven-thirty? Would that give you enough time?”

“That is perfect. My aunt is out this evening. I won’t have to explain my absence,” she said, smiling warmly at him, as if relieved that the first difficult step was over. There was something incredibly naïve about her, something that totally belied her brazenness in offering to become his mistress. She acted as if that kiss had been her first. When she rose and exited, closing the door softly behind her, Charles had to shake his head in wonder.

He had just been given a tremendous gift. Winifred Appleton, his legal siren, would be his for a night.

T
he Hotel was a beautiful structure on the corner of fashionable Fifth Avenue and Twenty-third Street, opposite Madison Square. Yet as the carriage pulled up to the curb and Winifred saw the glowing gaslights surrounding the lofty building, an uneasiness mounted within her. She drew her cloak tightly about her shoulders, glancing furtively into the street. There was no one passing by, no one to look upon her and notice her. Swiftly, she stepped up to the door, nodded to the doorman, and entered the lobby.

The scene took her breath away. Gold chandeliers glimmered overhead, with crystals dripping from their branches like icicles from a tree limb. The ceiling was a dome, and angels cavorted in the center, while elegantly carved plaster lined the walls like icing decorating a cake. Marble columns arose at the doorway, leading into the dining hall, while gilt-edged portraits stared down at her from the walls.

Awestruck and uneasy, particularly when the doorman eyed her questioningly, she strode toward the lobby as if she were perfectly familiar with everything there. She was well aware that ladies did not loiter in
such areas; nor could they take a seat and read the evening paper as the gentlemen did. Yet Charles was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing what else to do, she simply stood near the wall behind an Indian rubber plant, pretending to be intimately involved with studying the portraits. Surely Charles didn’t mean for her to sign the register herself, or to ask for a key? That would create all sorts of speculation! Yet why wasn’t he here? Could he have possibly changed his mind?

“Miss, may I offer you assistance?” the doorman asked, approaching her.

He knew. Winifred was certain the man had figured out that she was here on an intrigue. Was it only her imagination, or was he looking at her with disapproval and disgust? Heat rose to her face, and she was about to respond when a voice sounded directly behind her.

“Sir, I assure you that my wife is well provided for. Hello, dear. Sorry I am late.”

Relief sped through her as Charles stepped forward, offering his arm. As awkward as it was to be referred to as his wife, Winifred noticed that the doorman grew immediately respectful. Taking Charles’s arm, she glanced coolly at the hotel employee.

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” she said softly. Glancing at Charles, she managed a wan smile. “Darling, do you think we might go to our room? I suddenly have a headache.”

“By all means.” Charles nodded solicitously. “This way. I reserved your favorite suite.”

The doorman, hearing her remark, hurried to the passenger elevator. “If you please, sir,” he said quickly, aware that he might have offended them, “the vertical railroad would be faster. Allow me.”

He opened the door, indicating that Charles and
Winifred should enter. Joining them inside the brass contraption, he physically closed the collapsing caged doors, then stared discreetly at the ceiling.

Within moments, Winifred’s stomach jolted as the floor began to rise. Thankfully, Charles held her hand tightly as her stomach did flip-flops, and the tiny room ascended. The lobby disappeared, then a solid wall enclosed them inside as the elevator climbed the floors. When they finally reached the fourth, the contraption magically stopped, and the doorman held open the caged gate.

“Thank you,” Charles said quickly, pressing a coin into the man’s hand as they disembarked. “We will not be needing anything else.”

The doorman nodded, and Winifred watched in amazement as the tiny room descended once more, disappearing from sight. She was even more surprised when Charles led her down the brightly lit hallway to their suite and opened the door with his key.

The room was incredible. Winifred gazed shyly about as she took in the burgundy velvet furniture trimmed in gold, the good French paintings, the thick, plush carpet. A gold brocade sofa graced one side of the room, while an elegant marble fireplace warmed the interior. Several rosewood chairs stood invitingly about, while a silver champagne bucket cooled the sparkling wine, and sugared almonds waited on the table. A small table near the fireplace held dishes covered with silver lids, and the enticing aroma of broiled chicken wafted from the plates.

And in the center of the room was a bed, larger and more sumptuous than anything Winifred had ever imagined. Covered in burgundy satin quilts, filled with pillows of all shapes and sizes, and framed with carved brass, it beckoned like a sultan’s dream.

Tearing her eyes from the bed, she gazed at the
floor, suddenly overcome with insecurity. Charles reached for her cloak and removed it from her shoulders. Noticing her change in mood, he handed her a glass of champagne and indicated the chair before the fire.

“Winnie, please take a seat and relax. Have some supper. We have all night. You are not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No,” she said honestly, accepting the glass and sipping gratefully from its frothy depths. “It’s just that I … I mean, I do not know how …” She gazed at the richly textured bed, feeling like a knobby-kneed schoolgirl.

“I know, darling.” Charles stood beside her, then ran his hands down her arms, warming her with his touch. Instantly, Winifred felt some of the tension melt away. He smiled at her, the look in his eyes touching something deep within her.

“I want you to know that if at any time, you want to stop or feel uncertain, I will do exactly as you ask. In spite of what you proposed, I will not force you, ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed gratefully. Charles seemed to understand everything. She drank deeply of the champagne, and when she held out the glass in a silent gesture, asking for more, he seemed not at all surprised. This time he filled her glass only half full and waited until she took a deep drink before speaking again.

“I want you to experience everything tonight,” he whispered hoarsely. “Too much champagne would interfere with that.” His gaze swept down her and took in the gold silk dress she wore, the sparkling earrings, and the scent of her perfume. “You look breathtaking.”

Winifred smiled, her uneasiness disappearing at
his words. He thought her beautiful. All the time she had spent longing for this man, all of the wondering and wanting, would culminate in this night. Charles held out a chair for her, and she accepted it, feeling as if she were truly special. Having a man treat her in such a manner was heady, even more so because that man was Charles.

Removing the silver lids from the plates, Charles revealed beautifully prepared chicken, garnished with rosemary and sage, tiny potatoes, and crisp almond beans. Lifting his glass to hers, he smiled.

“To us,” he said, his eyes bathing her in the warmth of his glance. “And tonight.”

“Tonight,” Winifred whispered, touching his glass to her own.

The ring of crystal reverberated to her heart. There was something magical about the whole evening. She tasted the wonderful bite of the beans, the smooth texture of the potatoes, the mouth-watering flavor of the fowl. The champagne, imported from France, was soft and bubbly, with just the right touch of sweetness. All of her senses were enhanced in anticipation of what was to come. Nothing had ever tasted so good; nor could she remember ever enjoying a meal more.

Charles’s conversation was equally pleasurable. Although he knew her well, he wanted to hear everything about her, from the time she was a girl to this moment. Winifred laughingly told him about her exploits with her sister Jennifer, as a spiritualist. During their séances, she had been in charge of playing the harpsichord, in order to enhance the atmosphere, while her sister Penelope had jiggled the wires of the chandelier to convey a ghostly presence. One woman had been so taken by their performance that she had run out of the house, only to return the following evening with her entire sewing circle.

“I have to admire you girls,” Charles said, shaking with laughter. “You did the best you could in awful circumstances. No wonder you are all so terribly independent.”

“Is that so wrong?” she put down her fork and gazed at him seriously.

“Only when it keeps you from allowing someone else to help,” he answered. “And forgetting that you still have needs.”

“Such as?” she asked cautiously.

“This.” He rose from the table and swept her into a kiss.

It was an incredible melting of hearts, a timeless communication that expressed all of the joy, desire, and anticipation that had built within them in the past few months. Winifred forgot everything in that moment, every insecurity, doubt, and inhibition. This was Charles, and this was right. It was so right that she thought she would swoon, and she clung breathlessly to his shoulders, her body trembling in his embrace. When he finally raised his face from hers, she gazed at him in wonder.

“Please, Charles,” she whispered softly, more certain than she ever was of anything in her life. “Please, love me.”

“I will, darling,” Charles replied. “I will.”

He kissed her once more, fiercely, showing her how much he wanted her, stoking her passion until it was as all-consuming as his own. His lips urged a response from her, and she melted against him, pressing her body along his. The subtle surrender sent his blood pounding through his veins.