Disappointment stabbed her and hurt more than she’d anticipated. She should have known what his silence all day meant. But she’d been hoping she could persuade him anyway. Was there still a chance, or did he have his mind so solidly made up that he wouldn’t be budged for any reason?
The only thing that had seemed to give him pause last night was the fact that her own reputation was at stake. Could she play upon that?
It was worth an attempt. If that tactic didn’t work, she’d have to talk with Kiernan again tomorrow and come up with another solution to her dilemma.
She gathered up her writing items. “You leave me with no choice, Bellamy.”
He closed the lid on his art supply box, then leaned against the table as if he was settling in for the next performance.
She had to make it good. She paused, let her shoulders slump, and dropped her chin. “You know how strict my da is.” She waited several heartbeats, hoping Bellamy would remember some of the gossip about her da—how he never let his daughters spend time alone with suitors, how he always required a chaperone, how he had stringent requirements for callers to sit on opposite chairs, and how he guarded their virtue religiously.
When Bellamy didn’t respond, she released a long-suffering sigh—or at least hoped it came out that way. “Once Da learns of my—our—kissing, he’ll never allow me a moment of privacy or freedom until I’m married.”
“Naturally.”
“He’ll lock me away.” She spun then and tried to remain stricken. “Probably in my chamber at Oakland.”
Bellamy shook his head, almost as if he didn’t believe her.
Was she laying on the drama too thickly? Perhaps she needed to be more realistic. “At the very least, he’ll restrict me from leaving Oakland and won’t let me go anywhere by myself.” That was the truth. “Then how will I deliver my weekly manuscript segments to Mr. Knapp at theDaily Republican?”
A line formed in Bellamy’s forehead, as though he was seriously contemplating her dilemma. “Maybe I could take them for you.”
“Maybe.” She pressed a finger to her lips, trying to maintain the seriousness of the situation. “My guess is he’ll attempt to form a match for me right away to hide my indiscretion, just like he did with Enya.”
“Your situation is far different than Enya’s.”
Her sister had been with child from a husband who had run off and abandoned her, and Da had been in a hurry to find a new spouse who would be willing to count the baby as his. Bellamy located just the right man at just the right time.
Bellamy’s forehead furrowed deeper. Was he thinking the same thing?
“You wouldn’t have me marry a stranger, would you, Bellamy?” She let sorrow infuse her voice, which wasn’t too hard since the thought of marrying a stranger really was distressing. “You may have found someone quickly for Enya, but what guarantee do you have of finding me the perfect match so quickly too?”
He shrugged. “I have the luck o’ the Irish, that I do.”
“Surely you’re not so lucky that you can accomplish the same feat twice.” She fluttered her hand over her chest. Then she closed her eyes, hoping to make herself look more distraught.
He was quiet for so long she finally cracked open one eye only to find him smirking again. As she opened both eyes, he clapped. “Bravo. Grand performance.”
This time she stomped a foot, unable to contain her irritation. She stuffed her journal and pencil into her pocket, then began to make her way toward the door, swiping up her discarded cloak from the top of a barrel where she’d draped it.
All the while, he watched her, his arms still crossed, his smile only growing.
“It was a mistake to come.” She flipped up her hood, then unlatched the lock on the door. Though the night was still humid, she allowed herself a lungful of air before starting down the alley in the direction of her family’s homeon Third Street. The streets of St. Louis were dangerous at night, abounding with thugs and thieves, but she’d been careful on the way over, and she’d be equally as vigilant on the way back.
She made it only halfway down the alley before footsteps slapped behind her and a hand grabbed her arm, drawing her to a stop. She spun to find Bellamy towering above her. Though the darkness shrouded him, she could sense the tension in his grip.
“Doncha be thinking you can walk home alone this late at night,” he whispered, his voice threaded with exasperation.
Was he thinking about that time when he’d walked her home many years ago after being chased from the park? Well, she wasn’t that little naïve thirteen-year-old anymore. “I walked here alone just fine.” She jerked her arm free and started on her way once more. She only made it two steps before he latched onto her arm again.
“I’ll be going with you, so.”
“No thank you. I’d rather be alone than be with you.” She didn’t need to act anymore. It was the truth.
10
Animosity filled every word Zaira spoke.
