“Bella!” Lucy shouted from where she stood. A young girl dressed in a maid’s uniform hurried down the stairs at her mistress’s call.
“Yes, miss,” Bella said.
“Where’s my papa?” Lucy pulled off her gloves.
“I think he’s in the library, miss.”
“Good. Draw me a bath. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She dropped the gloves on top of the parasol and made her way to the library.
Lucy studied her father as she stood in the doorway. His head bent over the papers on his desk, he didn’t notice her presence. Many evenings, over expensive brandy at the dinner table, he’d told the story of how, after a poverty stricken childhood, he arrived in Oregon City as a young man of twenty-one with no more than the clothes on his back. He cleaned stalls at the livery, sleeping upstairs in the loft, while he washed dishes at the restaurant. The pay wasn’t much, but he received free meals. With a place to sleep and free food, he’d saved every dime he’d made.
With the money he’d squirreled away, he entered into a high stakes poker game one night, and walked away with over a thousand dollars, along with the deed to a lumber mill. With the way Oregon City grew, the lumber mill proved a moneymaker. He used his profits to buy more land and businesses, and soon owned the saloon, hotel, two restaurants and the livery where he’d started out.
Her gaze drifted to the portrait hanging over the fireplace, of Josephine Majors Benson, her mother. Done by one of the best artists in the country, it depicted a young, sweet girl, several years younger than Lucy’s age of twenty-three. The mother she never knew married Eli at the insistence of her family, bore him one daughter and died a few hours later. Eli was left with no wife, and a new baby, who he promptly turned over to nursemaids.
“Papa, you work entirely too hard.” Lucy entered the library, not her favorite room, since it contained a large amount of books.
He glanced at her, and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “Back from your visits so soon?” He pushed his spectacles to his forehead, and re-lighted the stump of a cigar sitting alongside him.
“It was boring, Papa. Nobody wanted to hear about my trip, or the wonderful clothes I brought back with me. All they could talk about was local gossip, and other stupid things.”
“I hear Nate got himself a new wife.” He blew a circle of smoke in the air.
Lucy flushed. “That’s a mistake. She’ll be going back to where she came from soon.”
“What are you talking about? They’ve been married for months now.”
“I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about a party I want to have.”
“A party? You only just returned from Europe.”
“So what?” She shrugged. “The trip is over, and now I want a party, so I can wear one of the beautiful gowns I had made in Europe.” She fiddled with the papers on his desk. “Planning a party would be so much fun. Please say yes.” She managed to squeeze out a few tears, which wasn’t hard when she tried to get her way. She’d had a lot of practice over the years.
“Well, if that makes my little girl happy, then you will have your party. I assume you’ll take care of everything? I have no interest in all that foolishness.”
“Oh yes, Papa, I’ll take care of everything.” She kissed him on his slightly bald head, and added, “Your job is to pay the bills.” Laughing, she ran from the room, leaving him bent over his papers again before she even closed the door.
The sun edged its way toward the horizon, casting the pink and white bedroom in dusky shadows. Lying in the bathtub in front of the fireplace for the second time that day, Lucy ran the details of her party through her mind. She filled a sponge with cool, scented water, and squeezed it over her breasts, enjoying the delicious sensation as the liquid ran over her nipples. Raising one leg, she dribbled water over it, and slipped deeper into the tub.
More than a few men she’d met in Europe had been happy to introduce her to the pleasures of lovemaking. They had also taught her how to prevent pregnancy, which left her free to enjoy those pleasures. If she couldn’t tempt Nate soon, she would have to find someone else to relieve her building needs. She shivered to think of the many interesting things she had learned on her European trip, and how wonderful it would be to share them all with Nate.
She imagined his long fingers stroking her, caressing her in sensitive places. His mouth on her breasts, and other places she’d learned were even more fascinating. Frowning, she remembered his dowdy wife, and banged the side of the tub in frustration.
Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, she went back to planning her party. She would wear her utterly stunning, royal blue dress, with the cream-colored piping around the scandalously low neckline. She had it made up in an exclusive little shop in Paris, along with slippers to match.
That would show up Nate’s wife, who’d probably never owned a ball gown in her wretched life. The woman had the look of a domestic or laundress, which she probably did in New York before she finagled Nate into marrying her. Or more likely a tavern maid. Who knew what kind of lies she told him in order to get herself a husband?
Lucy would convince Nate of his mistake, and make him her own. She would appear sophisticated and provocative, unlike Angel.
Her insides clenched in anger when she thought of the wonderful plans she’d made for her and Nate. After they were married, Papa would give Nate one of his businesses to manage, which would significantly improve his income. With the large house Papa would have built for them, they would have room for servants, and a nanny and nursery for the children, so she wouldn’t even have to see them.
They would host lavish parties and att
end the theater in Oregon City, and travel to San Francisco several times a year to enjoy the social life in that fascinating city. She would be stunning in her beauty, with a handsome husband on her arm.
Drat Nate! Why didn’t he wait until she came back from Europe? He had seriously ruined her plans.
Angel stood at the doorway to the kitchen and watched Matt and Mark slugging each other. Near the end of August, the day had been a particularly trying one. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, once again listening to the twins bickering with each other. Her usually easygoing Julia-Rose had fussed all day, which made her hope the baby wasn’t getting sick.