A Worthy Heart Page 14

  Twenty minutes later, Adam strode up the road toward his parents’ home. He skirted the main entrance and made his way to the servants’ door, where he ducked inside a small hallway leading to the kitchen. Pausing to remove his cap, he listened for any sign of Mrs. Harrison at work in her domain. The telltale clatter of pots and pans told him she was indeed there.

  “Are you going to lurk in the doorway all day or come in and say hello to your old cook?”

  Adam startled at the woman’s ability to know the moment someone came near her kitchen. He stepped into the room. “Hello, Mrs. Harrison.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and came forward, her round face beaming beneath her white cap. “Why, Adam O’Leary, you are a sight for these weary eyes.” She wrapped him in a tight hug, and once again Adam was struck at the manner in which servants at Irish Meadows seemed more family than staff.

  “How have you been keeping, Mrs. Harrison?”

  “Not bad at all. If you’re looking for your parents, I’m afraid they’re out for the day.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with Brianna, if she’s home.”

  “You’re in luck. She got back from the library about an hour ago.”

  “Adam?” The sound of his sister’s voice preceded her footsteps into the kitchen. “It is you. I thought I heard your voice.” Brianna rushed forward to envelop him in his second hug of the day.

  Her loving acceptance humbled him. “It’s good to see you, Bree. You look wonderful.” She had indeed matured into a lovely woman, her cinnamon-colored hair tamed into a tidy roll at the back of her neck.

  When she pulled back, moisture rimmed her eyes. “How are you doing? Mama won’t say a word about you for fear of upsetting Daddy.”

  “I’m fine.” Adam glanced at Mrs. Harrison and the other maids who scurried about the kitchen. “Could we talk in private?”

  “Of course. Why not your old room? No one will bother us there.”

  He nodded and winked. “Afraid Gil may come looking for you?”

  She cast him a scathing glare as she swept toward the servants’ staircase. “I may be marrying the man, but he won’t stop me from talking to my own brother. Come on.”

  Adam laughed, following her upstairs. “I’m glad to see you’ve developed a backbone at last.”

  She peered over her shoulder. “It was either that or follow Daddy’s orders for the rest of my life. Not much of a choice.”

  They walked along the second-floor hall to Adam’s bedroom at the far end. Once inside, Brianna took a seat in the armchair by the window while Adam grabbed his old desk chair and straddled it. He glanced around the room, trying to ignore the rush of nostalgia twisting his insides.

  “So what is it?” Bree asked without preamble. “I can tell something’s on your mind.”

  “You’re right.” He frowned, looking past her out the window.

  “This better not be about Gil. Now that we’re getting married, I expect you to put your ridiculous animosity aside once and for all.”

  He chuckled at her ferocious defense. “You’ll be happy to know that I’m working hard to do just that. I realize it was never Gil’s fault that our father preferred him over me.”

  “Oh, Adam.” Sympathy shone in her green eyes as she laid a hand on his arm. “I’ve never understood why Daddy treated you so harshly. I thought maybe he had greater expectations for you, being the eldest.”

  Adam held back a snort. “That’s part of it, I’m sure.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Can I ask you some questions—without you asking anything in return?”

  She gave him a wary frown. “What about?”

  “About our parents. Do you know anything about how they met, or their courtship?”

  Her brow cleared. “Of course I do.”

  “I figured if anyone did, it would be my romantic sister.”

  She laughed and smoothed the material of her striped skirt. “Mama and Daddy met at the mercantile our grandparents owned. Mama was there one day when Daddy came in with his father to buy supplies. Apparently she stole Daddy’s heart right away.”

  Adam pondered this for a minute. “How old was she?”

  “About seventeen.”

  “Did they have a long courtship?”

  “I think it was quite quick, if I remember Mama’s stories.” A dreamy expression stole over her face. “They were married in the same church as I will be soon.”

  Needing to move, Adam pushed up from the chair and walked to the four-poster bed. Absently, he fingered the blue-patterned quilt that had adorned his bed since childhood. “What about other suitors? Wasn’t Mama promised to someone else when she met Daddy?”

  Brianna’s fair brows came together. “You’re right. Mama’s father had an agreement with a friend of his, a Mr. Drake, that she would marry his son.” Brianna tapped a finger to her lips. “I don’t know the son’s name. But I do know Mama didn’t much care for him. As soon as she met Daddy, she knew she could never marry anyone else.” The dreamy look returned.

  “Do you know anything more about the Drakes?”

  Her smile faded. “Not really. What’s this about, Adam?”

  He set his jaw. “I said no questions, remember?”

  She rose from the chair, hands fisted on her hips. “That’s not fair—”

  “Did Mama say anything about her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary this past winter?”

  Brianna’s mouth fell open for a moment. “I didn’t realize . . .” She stared at him. “You’ll be twenty-five this fall, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it must have been their twenty-sixth anniversary.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  He sighed, unwilling to disillusion his sister. “You’re probably right. Must have my dates mixed up.”

  Brianna grew pensive. “I wonder why no mention was ever made of it last year. How odd.”

  He moved toward her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “Do me a favor and forget I asked. It’s not important. Besides, you have your own wedding to concentrate on now.”

  His ploy worked, and her features brightened immediately. “I can’t believe it’s almost here. I’m finally going to be Mrs. Gilbert Whelan.”

  A whisper of tenderness for his sister curled around his heart. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  She beamed at him. “I do, Adam. Gil’s kind, caring, and so thoughtful. You’d see that if you’d give him a chance.”

  Adam swallowed his bitterness and managed a nod. “For your sake, Bree, I’ll try my best.”

  13

  GABE STOOD IN THE ATTIC ROOM at Rylan’s house and peered at his reflection in the warped full-length mirror. He had to bend to see the top of his hair, which he’d slicked back with some type of pomade Rylan insisted all the stylish gentlemen in New York wore. Gabe attempted to adjust his bowtie but finally gave up getting it any straighter.

  He turned to collect his wallet from the nightstand and noticed the letter still sitting there. With a heavy heart, he picked up the envelope, the weight of the words it contained adding to his unease. His mother had written of the increasing unrest at home and her worry that if things should escalate to civil war, his two older brothers would join the fight. What would happen to his mother if Tommy and Paddy left? Just when Gabe had been entertaining the idea of extending his stay in America, circumstances at home begged his presence.

  Mentally, Gabe berated himself for getting caught up in the ease of life in America. His work at the fire station and the beautiful Aurora had pulled his attention from the plight of his fellow countrymen. How could he forget the strife happening back home? From now on, he would keep that at the forefront of his thoughts—that and his intent to get back home as soon as possible.

  He sighed and slipped the envelope under his pillow. He would put this worry out of his mind for now and try to enjoy the evening with Aurora and her family.

  Gabe descended to the main level and e
ntered the kitchen.

  Colleen turned from her position at the stove. “My, you look handsome. Rylan’s suit is perfect on you.”

  Gabe gave a mock bow. “A sacrifice I’m willing to make to eat at the famous Vanderbilt Hotel.” And to impress the lovely Aurora. The mere thought of sharing a fine meal with her in a date-like setting made his pulse gallop.

  Colleen laid a wooden spoon on the stovetop and wiped her hands on her apron. “Why do you think Mr. Hastings invited you to dinner?”

  “I’m sure it’s to thank me for helping save his . . . house from the fire.” Wiser to keep Aurora out of the conversation. No use giving his sister-in-law fodder for her overactive imagination.

  “But why you? Why not Chief Witherspoon or the other firemen?”

  Gabe shifted in his brother’s shoes, which pinched at the toes.

  “Did he not tell you, my love?” Rylan strode into the kitchen with Delia perched on his shoulders. “Gabe rescued Aurora from her room. No wonder the man wants to thank him.”

  Rylan swung Delia to the ground. “Go get washed for dinner, sweetheart.”

  Gabe tugged at his bowtie, uncomfortable under Colleen’s speculative stare. A whimper sounded from the basket on the kitchen table, and Colleen moved to scoop up the baby.

  Gabe had never been happier to hear an infant cry. “Well, I’d best be off. Don’t want to be late.”

  “Heavens no. What would Aurora think of you then?” Colleen’s laughter followed Gabe out the door.

  By the time he reached the impressive entrance to the Vanderbilt Hotel, where wealthy patrons swept past him through the massive main doors, nerves swamped Gabe’s stomach. What was he doing pretending to belong in such luxury? He came from a small village where most of his friends lived in thatched cottages, farmed sheep, and met in the pub for a pint after dinner.

  Gabe squared his shoulders and, with as much confidence as he could muster, walked into the lobby, where the ornate splendor flabbergasted him. Gleaming marble and crystal reflected light off every surface. Men and women sat on the elegant settees and strolled about the spacious halls. Gabe shook off his awestruck demeanor and headed to find the dining room.

  The maître d’ lifted his nose at Gabe. “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m expected for dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Hastings.”

  The man inclined his head. “Very good. Follow me.”

  Conscious of all eyes in the room watching him, Gabe fought the urge to straighten his tie again. They weaved through a maze of tables until at last the man stopped. “Here is your party, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Gabe wondered if he was expected to tip the man, but since he had no ready cash, he focused on the people at the table.

  Mr. Hastings, a short, stout man with a handlebar mustache—exactly like in his portrait in the fire station—rose to shake Gabe’s hand. “Mr. Montgomery. So glad you could join us.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, sir.” Gabe shook his hand, resisting the temptation to gawk at Aurora as she and her mother came toward him.

  “Allow me to introduce my wife, Dorothy.”

  Gabe bowed over the older woman’s hand. She was handsome for her age, with tidy brown hair swept back from her face and twinkling blue eyes. Gabe could see where Aurora got the bones of her beauty.

  “And of course you’ve met my daughter.”

  Aurora’s beaming smile lit up the room. She looked as beautiful as a painting in a yellow gown, her golden curls arranged atop her head.

  “It’s grand to see you again, Miss Hastings. You ladies look lovely this evening.”

  Mrs. Hastings tittered like a young girl. “My, my. Such a charming accent.”

  From the corner of his eye, Gabe caught the irritated expression on Mr. Hastings’s face.

  Aurora’s mother laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so glad I can finally thank you in person, Mr. Montgomery. You have no idea how worried we were about our daughter when we received word of the fire.”

  Gabe fought the heat creeping into his cheeks. “Thank you, Mrs. Hastings. I’m only glad I was there to help.”

  They took their seats, and a waiter appeared instantly, as though he’d been lurking around the corner, waiting for his cue.

  “Please allow me the liberty of ordering for you, young man. I’m sure you’re not used to restaurants such as this back in your country.”

  Gabe waited a beat until Mr. Hastings spared him a glance. “I will defer to your good opinion, sir.”

  “We enjoy the duck here. The cook does an excellent job.”

  Though Gabe would have preferred a thick steak, he didn’t contradict his host.

  After the orders had been placed, Mrs. Hastings made a fairly obvious attempt to direct the flow of conversation, asking Gabe many questions about life in Ireland. With each response, Gabe got the distinct impression from the scowl on Mr. Hastings’s face that he was saying something terribly wrong. Why had the man invited him here if he clearly disapproved of Gabe?

  Only Aurora’s rapt attention made the dinner bearable. Gabe couldn’t help but wish they were sharing the meal alone, at a private table.

  When they’d finished a delicious dessert of crème brûlée, Arthur Hastings patted a napkin to his mustache and cleared his throat. “So tell me, Gabriel, when do you return to Ireland?”

  The man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d ordered him aboard the next ship leaving the harbor. Gabe’s attention swung to Aurora, who had gone pale. He tried to reassure her with a smile. “My sister, Maggie, and I are here for the summer. We have return passage for the end of August.”

  A shuttered look came over Mr. Hastings’s features. “How lucky for your family that you’re able to manage such a long visit. I’m surprised your employer is willing to hold your position for you.”

  Gabe set down his teacup with a noisy clink. “I guess that’s the advantage of living in a town where everyone knows one another. Mr. Connors is not just my employer; he’s one of my best friends and more than happy to keep my job for me.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended.

  “That type of community sounds wonderful,” Aurora said too cheerfully. “We have a similar close-knit feeling in our Long Island neighborhood where we spend the summer.”

  Gabe smiled again, to let her know he was grateful for her attempt to lighten the mood. “Aye, I witnessed that the night of the O’Learys’ party. Though our houses back home are nowhere near as grand as Irish Meadows.”

  “More like cottages, aren’t they?” Condescension dripped from Mr. Hastings’s voice.

  Gabe’s hand stilled on his fork as he fought back a sarcastic retort.

  Aurora leaned forward, her eyes darting from her father to him. “I’m sure your home is lovely, Gabe.”

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Hastings added. “I’ve heard the scenery is breathtaking. I hope to travel to Ireland one day when Arthur retires.” She laughed, as if not expecting that day to come anytime soon.

  “I doubt you’ll ever get Papa on a ship across the ocean, Mama. Not after the Titanic.”

  “You’re right about that, daughter.” Mr. Hastings pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I believe I must call it a night.” He turned and extended his hand. “Thank you again for all you did for my daughter during the fire, Mr. Montgomery. I wish you a pleasant stay and a safe trip back to Ireland.”

  Did Gabe imagine the implied threat in the strength of his grip and his unsmiling countenance? Why bother to buy him dinner and thank him for his service if he obviously found Gabe so distasteful?

  Gabe tensed. Could his admiration for Aurora be evident to her father? Perhaps the real reason for this invitation was to send a clear message to Gabe that his daughter was off-limits.

  Gabe retrieved his hat from the vacant chair beside him and bowed to Mrs. Hastings and to Aurora. “Good evening, ladies. Thank you for the pleasure of your company.”

  Mr. Hastings clapped a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. �
�I’ll walk you out. Dorothy, Aurora, I will see you upstairs shortly.”

  Gabe swallowed and wished he could loosen his tie. Before following Mr. Hastings across the room, he allowed himself one last look at Aurora, whose misery shone in her gaze. Not wanting to leave her upset, he winked at her, gratified to see her lips tilt and an attractive blush steal over her cheeks. “I hope to see you again, Miss Hastings.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Montgomery.” A worried frown still creased the space above her pert nose.

  With reluctance, he forced himself to walk away. He found Mr. Hastings waiting in the lobby and approached him with caution, unsure what to expect. “Thank you again, sir, for an evening I shall not soon forget.”

  The man did not smile. “Just so we’re clear, Mr. Montgomery, I expect this to be the last time you have any contact with my daughter. While I appreciate your . . . concern . . . for her well-being, I’m sure you realize that any type of friendship between you would be inappropriate.”

  A burst of indignation heated Gabe’s veins. “What about it would be inappropriate?”

  The man raised a brow, clearly taken aback by Gabe’s challenge. “There’s no point in forming attachments when you live halfway around the globe. Besides, I expect to announce Aurora’s betrothal to a suitable candidate by the end of the summer.”

  The flame of Gabe’s temper burned higher. Only supreme self-control held his tongue in check. The man was, after all, Aurora’s father, and Gabe would do nothing to cause her grief.

  “You’ve made your position very clear.” Gabe set his bowler on his head and adjusted the angle. “I’ll not seek Aurora out, but if I happen to run across her during my travels, I will not ignore her.” He tipped his hat. “Good night.”

  He strode out the main door before Mr. Hastings could say another word. Once outside, Gabe immediately ripped off his tie and stuffed the offending piece of material into his pocket. The cool evening air washed over him as he stalked away, frustration pumping with every step. When he happened to glance at one of the windows as he passed, its surface reflected a person Gabe barely recognized. The manicured man in the glass was not him. With a growl, he raked his fingers through his stiffened hair until he managed to dislodge some pieces, which fell over his forehead. What a farce this whole night had been. Dressed like a dandy, trying to pretend he was something he was not—for all the good it had done.