He shook his head in amusement. “The truth was my sword, my dear. I reminded the pater familias that his son was a lecher, a thief, a scoundrel and an adulterer, and that he’d have to move to the Dead Sea to escape the ignominy of it all.”
“Adulterer?”
He looked momentarily shocked that she either didn’t know or at least suspect. “I should have left that word out.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She waved her gloved hand. “So it’s over?”
“It’s over. You’re free from the Drexels forever.”
For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry, but then she smiled, stood up and extended her hand across the desk. He jumped to his feet and came around to accept it.
“Now you can get on with your life. A better life.”
“Thank you so much, Simon. Father always valued you as a friend and as a professional colleague. Now I must tell mother. She’ll be relieved.”
“And please give her my regards.”
On returning home she wrote a long letter, explained that the situation had been resolved and asked when her mother would be returning to Charleston, offering—with a moment’s hesitation—to travel there to accompany her back. Since the postal service was still very unreliable, she had her coachman take it to the stage depot to be dispatched on the next coach to Columbia
Would Buck be willing to make the trip with her? She must get in touch with him and give him the good news as well. She penned a quick note, this one to be delivered by messenger to his hotel.
How long would it take for him to respond? Was he even in town? Perhaps he’d already found a location for his medical practice here in Charleston, or maybe he’d found a better opportunity somewhere else. She would just have to wait for his answer.
In the meantime, rather than return to the big empty house that had once felt so much like home, but which now only echoed with memories, she decided a new wardrobe was appropriate. Since there were no longer any dress shops in business, she spent the next three hours rummaging through dressers and trunks of old clothing, then summoned a seamstress to alter them to conform with current fashions. Not one of them was black.
By late afternoon, she was buoyant but fatigued. Tomorrow her new life would begin, no longer in mourning. She was removing the pin from a wide-brimmed hat when the doorbell rang. Curious who could be calling at that hour, she stood by while the butler answered it.
The sound of his voice made her heart stop.
Buck.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
“Tell me what’s happened,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
“Our legal matters have been resolved. In our favor. I’m free, Buck. I’m no longer in mourning. I can get on with the rest of my life.”
Impulsively he pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly there. The entrancing scent of her skin, the way her body molded to his conjured sensations and images that nearly drove him over the edge. He smothered her with kisses.
“Let’s celebrate. Can you . . . is it all right if . . . we have dinner together? In a public place. I mean—”
She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that threatened to reduce him to begging.
“We can go anywhere and eat together in front of the whole world.”
Nevertheless, before accompanying him out of the house, she insisted on bathing and changing clothes. He was shown into the drawing room to wait.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she assured him. “There’s brandy and port. If you want anything else, ring for Oscar and he’ll see to your comfort.”
He thanked her and wandered over to a bookcase by the side of the fireplace. He wasn’t totally surprised when a few minutes turned into nearly two hours. By then he’d read a goodly part of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. But the wait was worth it. Sarah had transformed from a lovely, charming but grieving widow to a radiant southern belle in an azure-blue and emerald-green hoop skirt with a low-cut bodice and a double strand of pearls that perfectly concealed the scar on her neck. Matching earrings rocked beneath the high elegant bouffant crown of silken black hair.
“You take my breath away,” he told her when she entered the room. “You’re beautiful.”
“Why, sir,” she drawled, “I do believe I’ve kept you waiting too long.”
“It was well worth it.”
“Shall we then to dinner?” She extended her elbow.
His hand was damp as he escorted her out into the night.
#
Sarah stretched luxuriously in her four-poster bed as the morning light sneaked through the hurricane shutters of the French windows. Last night had been exciting if not completely fulfilling. They’d dined in the city. The food wasn’t very good or generous, but they didn’t care. It was the conversation. They talked for hours about every imaginable subject, from books to politics to religion to what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. She’d never met a man who so fascinated her. He was well-educated, highly literate, and his manners were impeccable.
The evening ended too soon, though it was after midnight when he escorted her home. Then came the awkward moment. They both knew what they wanted, how they felt about each other, yet propriety—damn propriety—kept them from following through on their desires. He kissed her goodnight outside her front door, then, hand held out behind him, bade her adieu.
As she lay in her bed alone, she promised herself not to let the next opportunity slip by.
She was sitting in the morning room, sipping hot, creamy coffee, when Oscar entered holding a salver.
“A letter for you, Madame. It was just delivered.”
“A letter? From whom?” She tore it open and read:
“My dearest Sarah. I’ve found a very nice house in good condition here in Columbia and have decided to stay. It’s not exceptionally large, but it is big enough for the two of us. If you want to stay in the house in Charleston, you may, of course, but I’m hoping you’ll come here and live with me. I miss you dreadfully. I don’t know if you can sell the house there. I’ll leave that decision to you. Write soon. With all my love.”
It was signed “Mother”.
She fell back against the chair, her hands hanging over the arms. If her mother had wanted to shock her, she’d succeeded. Sarah couldn’t imagine Ruth Greenwald living anywhere but in this bustling commercial city in the house she’d made into a small castle. And yet Sarah understood. Charleston and this house had become the abode of too many bad memories. The good ones she could take with her wherever she went. She didn’t need constant reminders of the sorrows this place conjured.
Strangely, after the initial shock, Sarah felt elated. A new life was about to start. Whether it would be here in Charleston or some other place—like Columbia—she wasn’t sure, but the challenge of a new adventure thrilled her.
She picked up the ceramic bell beside her breakfast plate and rang it. Oscar entered the room a few seconds later.
“As soon as I’ve finished eating, have Felix bring around the carriage.”
“Yes, Madame.”
#
Simon Weinberg rose from his leather-upholstered swivel chair when Sarah was shown into his office.
“I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he said, after the usual greeting and a genteel kiss on the cheek. He showed her to a fiddle-back chair and resumed his place behind his ornately carved desk.
“Mother has decided to stay in Columbia. Apparently she’s found a house there. Knowing Miriam Grayson, I’m sure she had something to do with it. And I’m glad. I can’t imagine Mother without Father, but I think the adjustment will be far easier for her to make in a new place with old friends.”