Chapter Four
THE FOLLOWING MORNINGdawned bright and clear with a lingering chill in the air, but Nate hardly felt it as he walked from his boardinghouse to the photography studio. He’d been awake since the first hint of light in the sky, eager to get back to his work.
Ruthann Joliet had been the ideal test subject, sitting perfectly still for the fifteen minutes it took for the exposure of her image onto the plate. In between photographs, she’d kept up a lively chatter, asking him about the camera and the process of developing the plates along with filling him in on various people he’d known in town years ago. She didn’t inquire about his time in the Army, much to Nate’s relief.
It had been the most enjoyable afternoon he’d spent in a very long time.
He’d only developed two of the plates last night before returning to the boardinghouse, and looking at the images now made him smile. Ruthann. He knew he shouldn’t think of her asRuthann.After all, she was a grown woman now, not the little sister who followed Stuart around when they were younger. And far too many years had passed since he’d acted on his raging desire to kiss her.
Yet she insisted upon calling him Nate, and he’d caught a sidelong look of exasperation when he referred to her as Miss Joliet in the studio. But he didn’t dare let that wall of propriety down, especially when he could hardly look away from her sweet smile and the way her hair caught the sunlight that had streamed in through the window and open door. He’d always thought her pretty when they were young, but the word wasn’t enough for what Ruthann had grown into.
She was, quite simply, beautiful.
And more than that, she still had a tender heart. He certainly hadn’t expected to find himself accompanying her to ensure a man like Mr. McGregor returned to his home unscathed. But Ruthann had always been like that, looking out for those who needed help.
He’d stared at the finished photograph far too long, admiring the face that looked back at him instead of assessing the quality of the image. He set it down and ran a hand over his face before picking it up again.
After adjusting the angle of the scene he’d created in order to catch more of the sunlight, he retreated to the darkroom again to develop more of the plates he’d taken yesterday. Ruthann’s lovely face looked up at him again and again, and he found himself pausing to bask in it, his thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once.
When a knock came at the door, he jumped, his mind going straight to Stuart. Guilt flooded through him, the same as it had six years ago. His friend would never forgive him for what he’d done, if he knew. Ruthann was out of Nate’s reach. Far, far out of his reach, as she should be. He never should have invited her to sit for photographs yesterday. Stuart was probably furious with him.
Setting the last plate down, Nate opened the darkroom door. But the person waiting on the other side wasn’t Stuart after all.
It was the petite, dark-haired woman he’d met outside the building yesterday.
“Good morning,” he said formally, his hands wrapped around the edges of his jacket.
“Good morning, Mr. Harper,” she said, her smile as wide as her eyes.
He glanced behind her—she wasn’t alone, thankfully. An older woman, slender and nearly as tall as Nate himself, waited near the front door.
The instant worry that had appeared with the younger woman’s presence dissipated. “Are you here for photographs?”
“I am! How did you know?” She giggled behind a hand and Nate fought the urge to sigh. This was not going to be his most enjoyable session.
But his business wouldn’t survive without actual customers, and if this girl wanted photographs, he would take them without complaint.
Nate gestured at the settee and end table set up in front of the drapes. The woman put her reticule down and made her way to the settee.
“You may go now,” she said somewhat coldly to the older lady at the door.
“But Miss Flagler—”
The look Miss Flagler gave the woman could have melted steel, and before Nate could protest, the woman was gone.
He glanced at Miss Flagler, now arranging her skirts just so. She gave him a coquettish smile, and Nate’s stomach turned. He went to the door and opened it, just as he had for Ruthann’s session yesterday.
Miss Flagler laughed, as if she found his actions amusing, and every hair on the back of Nate’s neck stood up.
“I’m ready for my photograph,” she said.
Nate still stood near the door. He could end this right now—show her out immediately. And then . . . what? If he angered her, she could spread the word that he’d refused her business. Judging from the fine clothing and jewelry she wore, Miss Flagler’s family likely held some sway in town.
And so he drew in a deep breath and pushed the instinctive worry out of his mind as he crossed back to his camera. He instructed her to remain perfectly still as he took the first image. Unlike with Ruthann yesterday, when the fifteen minutes for the exposure passed in companionable silence, the minutes now dragged out until they felt like hours.
With the first exposure finally finished, Miss Flagler requested a photograph of her standing.
