AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The sun was too high in the sky to call for a carriage to transport them back to the train station. With no other plans, David permitted Amalia to lead him south, towards the Allegheny, into a tree-lined expanse.
Bees buzzed and darted from shrub to shrub as the scent of flowers and greens and fresh water beat back the city. And the memories of the rather charming, but arrogant snot she’d married—actually married. Instead of him. Not that he’d asked, but she’d never given him the chance, or really a chance at all.
If ever there was a sign marriage was worthless... David clenched his fists so hard his nails dented his skin. It didn’t matter. Ethan was clearly not sending her threats so whatever they were whispering about was not his concern. Not at all.
“Allegheny Commons.” Amalia nodded to no one as they strolled past ornamental flowerbeds brimming with yellow and orange, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s supposed to be a ‘breathing place.’ Same designer as both Central and Fairmount Parks. Pittsburgh is moving up in the world. I wrote my mother about it, said she should make sure our banks made their presence known here. Plenty of customers. For once, the woman actually listened to me. And bought me this as a ‘thank you.’”
She dipped her fingers down and stroked a gold heart-shaped pendant, just above the dark pink and white edging of her dress. The jewelry caught the sunlight and a rainbow of stones shimmered. However, he couldn’t focus on separating them when imagines of her dipping her fingers lower filled his mind.
He grunted something that resembled appreciation and strolled along beside her.
Mushuggenah.
He truly was mad. At least when it came to Amalia. Shallow and spoiled and ready to use him and toss him aside without a second thought if he gave her the chance. After all, as the adage said: the best predication of future behavior was past behavior. He needed to remember that. Repeat it to himself.
Because the way she demonstrated grace and strength and well, humor, despite the circumstances...the way that she hinted that there was more than just the wealthy woman veneer. More than the spoiled teenager who’d broken his heart. He didn’t need that knowledge. It was irrelevant to his task.
And he could banish the memories—the image of her sneaking into his bed and straddling his body, keeping the promise she’d made to him after those stolen kisses in the moonlight.
Lord, the little minx had teased so perfectly. Just a few words from her and he’d forget to be serious, to be studious, to be hardworking, and everything he was supposed to be. A damned distraction of the highest order.
Oy, he needed to stop—save himself from disaster. That castration comment wasn’t an exaggeration. He’d been lucky her father hadn’t slit his throat the time he caught them together, alone, in the ballroom. At least they were clothed. She’d been so bold, so uninhibited.
Not that he’d needed any encouragement. He’d been very willing. Enthusiastic even. Who wouldn’t be? When someone like her noticed him, welcomed him even. Made him feel wanted.
And it’d been mutual. Until it wasn’t.
No, it didn’t matter. Potiphar’s wife, not Asenat. Or more, now, seven cows or ears of corn. Ears of corn; being compared to a cow would make her mad. But they were the same, a means to an end—an opportunity.
The momentary flight of fancy he’d had in the past, that they could be more, that she saw him as more, was a mere delusion. After she played her part, she’d have no more use in his story.
Which was for the best.
Amalia glided down the path and chattered about types of roses before pointing to a stone bench. They made their way over and he dusted off the top so she could sit with him beside her. The seat was so small that the outer ruffles of her skirt blanketed his legs.
A long-legged bird waded in the shallows of a reed-fringed lake in front of them. Splashes from water beetles and the glug of fish in search of prey near the surface danced on the breeze.
“That’s Lake Elizabeth.” Amalia tipped her chin. “Man-made.”
“Pretty.” And in the late afternoon, without a soul around, it was as if they were in their own private garden, in the countryside, or part of the grounds of a castle, like he’d read about as a child.
Amalia nodded, her eyes on the scene in front of her, not him. “Very. This whole place is. I always liked Pittsburgh. It isn’t Philadelphia, but it has charm.” She wound a lock of hair around her finger so tightly the tip was probably white beneath her gloves. “Not that I’ve been there in a while.”
She bit her lip. “Honestly, I’ve spent more time in a house in Indianapolis than anywhere else these past six years, save a train car. You need to live apart a certain amount of time to be ‘abandoned’ for divorce purposes.”
“That’s a great deal of time without your family. Were you lonely? In Indiana and traveling by yourself?” He leaned a little closer, so he’d catch her eye. Because it must have been difficult. Her family doted on her, a fact that always made him a little jealous. Of her and her brothers. According to Thad, until she married, she’d never been away from home.
She favored him with a sideways glance and a small hint at her dimple that made his heart skip for inexplicable reasons. “A touch. I kept busy. I hosted teas. Made some friends. Other travelers, other people obtaining divorces in Indiana. It gave me time to think, figure out what I wanted, where my place in the world was if I wasn’t someone’s wife.”
“What?” The damned prickles in the back of his neck which helped him recognize an important line of commentary and pay attention, or spot a decent piece of fabric to resell, or sense the direction of cannon fire and duck would not leave him be. She needed to answer him.
“You’ll think it’s silly and frivolous.” Hair tugging again. With that brittle edge in her voice, the one that stirred the long-buried guilt to the surface, whether or not anything was actually his fault.
His blood pumped harder.
Amalia twisted a button on her glove, before raising mossy gray-green eyes to him. “Well, I mentioned it in passing, and you heard part of it with Ethan. During my second divorce, when I’d become Delaware and Philadelphia’s favorite source of gossip, I started writing some musings, which later became a little column for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Just some thoughts and tips on clothes and hair and cosmetics. I use a sobriquet—the ‘Madame A’ one I used to use in my letters. Though everyone knows it’s me.” Her cheeks tinged a deep rose.
“I always enjoyed that name.” The words, the truth, popped out of his mouth before he could think, strategize.
