An Angel in the Mail (26 page)

Eli glanced between Sylvia and Nate. “I planned to see her home.”

Sylvia waved her hand again. “Thanks for coming for me, Nathan, but I’m still enjoying my tea, and since Eli can drive me, you can go on home. I’ll be there shortly.”

At the smug look on the older man’s face, Nate swallowed a chuckle. “I appreciate you seeing Mrs. Hardwick home.” He turned and walked past the quiet tables and let himself out the door.

He still laughed softly when he walked in his front door. The boys and Julia-Rose were all sleeping, so peaceful silence met him. He left the front door unlocked for Sylvia, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

Angel sat on the bed, propped on pillows, reading a book. She smiled at Nate when he came in.

“What’s so funny?” She closed the book and placed it on the table next to her.

“Darlin’.” He pulled his shirt out of his pants as he came around to her side of the bed and sat on the edge. “Your stepmother is something else.”

“Oh no, what did she do now? Burn down the restaurant?”

“Well, apparently so many diners came to the restaurant tonight, they ran out of food. And when I arrived to collect Sylvia, she and Eli Benson were holed up in a dark corner of the restaurant, sipping tea. Can you imagine? Eli, sipping tea? He looked like someone just took away his candy when I told him I had come to drive her home.”

Angel covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “No!”

“Yes. He said he would bring her home, and Sylvia agreed she didn’t want to leave that wonderful cup of tea yet.”

Angel doubled over with laughter, and Nate joined her. After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes and said, “Obtaining employment might be the best thing that ever happened to Sylvia.”

“No.” He stood, walked over to his side of the bed, and took off his clothes. “It might be the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Eli should have been thrilled. The Golden Buck continued to have a waiting line every night. In a town where the single men outnumbered the single women by a large margin, it was to be expected. But he groused and grumbled through most nights. That many of the men came to gawk at his hostess caused him to behave like a lunatic. He’d seen the snickers on several customers’ faces as he followed in her wake like a puppy, but he had stopped caring over an hour ago.

Sylvia continued to be oblivious to all the attention, and treated everyone with her genuine smile and open friendliness. When he’d presented her with her first week’s pay, he thought for one minute she would kiss him. With sparkling eyes, she’d told him she would go to the bank first thing the next morning, and open her very own bank account in her name. Something she’d never had before.

He listened to Sylvia refuse at least three marriage proposals a night, and when Jack Keagen offered her employment at the Lucky Lady, Eli escorted the saloon owner from The Golden Buck, with Jack holding a wet cloth to his bloody nose.

Eli couldn’t concentrate on anything. Thank heaven he’d hired good business managers, because every time he tried to add numbers or go over invoices, Sylvia’s face floated in front of his eyes. Her smile, her sway, the scent of her perfume; something fruity and feminine. His stomach clenched every time a customer reached out and touched her hand. He woke in the middle of the night in a sweat, with dreams of someone stealing her away from him.

Once he’d flipped the “closed” sign on the door, he relaxed for the first time all day. The minutes they spent together, talking quietly and sipping tea, became the highlight of his day.

“Am I really doing a good job?” Sylvia studied him over the rim of her teacup.

If she did any better, he’d have to hire someone to teach him boxing. “You’re doing great. You see for yourself how we run out of food almost every night. The Golden Buck has always done a good business, but it has increased tenfold since you arrived.” He caressed her hand. Soft, delicate, and slender. Visions of her running those hands over his back while he made love to her caused his pants to tighten.

Eli had finally admitted it to himself. He had fallen madly in love. Marriage to Lucy’s mother, Josephine, had been arranged between him and her father, once the older man had been assured of Eli’s success as a businessman. Although he’d never visited other women during his marriage, his wife had never engaged his heart, and except for Lucy, he sometimes completely forgot about the marriage.

Sylvia is certainly not someone I’d forget. And if she accepts my marriage proposal, I’ll have her every day of my life.

Once again, Lucy spent weeks browbeating the staff into creating the perfect Christmas Party. She ordered them about, flew into a rage at any tiny flaw, and generally made everyone miserable. Now that the evening had arrived, her nerves were strung as tight as a violin.

She slammed the door to her bedroom, and eyed her maid. “Get out.”

The woman scurried around her mistress and left the room, head down. Lucy marched over to the large cherry wood dresser and pulled out a nearly empty bottle of brandy. Not bothering with a glass, she drank directly from the bottle.

Dimwitted, all of them. Couldn’t anyone do something right without her hovering over them? She glanced in the mirror. The stress showed on her face. She peered closer. Were those lines at the edge of her eyes? Damn these people. No one cared that this party meant everything to her.

Once Nate discovered his wife came from a family of thieves, he would set her aside and she’d have him all to herself. He would see tonight what a gracious hostess she’d be for all the parties they’d hold when they married.

The thought relaxed her features, and after draining the bottle, she took a gulp of lavender water, swished it around her mouth and spat it into a bowl. Taking a steadying breath, she left the room to do battle once more with the senseless staff.

Her father stood at the front door, giving instructions to the footmen. His hand reached out and grabbed her as she sailed by. “Lucy, I’ll be picking up Mrs. Hardwick shortly, and I want her to receive with us.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped. Warmth rose to her face. “I will not have that woman in the receiving line at my party!”

Eli drew himself up to his full five foot seven height. “You need to remember, young lady, this is
my
house, and if I say Mrs. Hardwick will receive with us, then receive with us she will.” He stabbed the air with his unlit cigar.

“She’s not a member of the family!” Lucy stomped her foot.

“And that may change, missy. Go about your business and don’t have anything else to say about it.”

He strode into the library, leaving her glaring at his retreating back. She couldn’t believe her papa said Mrs. Hardwick may become a member of the family. A thief! He’d never shown interest in any woman in all the years she could remember. And now he’d decided to become serious with, of all people, Angel’s stepmother? The woman wanted by the New York City Police Department?

She sniffed. That would remain her secret. Once she held the investigator’s report in her hand, she’d relish showing her papa what a poor choice he’d made. Hopefully, the police would lock both women up.

But she had more important things on her mind.

Even though she spotted plenty of things wrong, the decorations in the ballroom would have to do. As long as mistletoe hung from every doorway, the party would be a success. Still annoyed at her father, she left the ballroom and headed to the stairs.
Where is that nitwit maid?

“Bella!” she screeched.

“Yes, miss.” She stood at the top of the stairs, wringing her hands.

“My guests will be arriving in a couple of hours, and I hope you have my bath ready and clothes set out.”

“Yes miss, it’s all ready.”

Lucy stomped up the stairs, grumbling the whole time at the foolishness of old men.

Eli parked his buggy in front of the Hale house, then mounting the steps, tugged at his collar, and smoothed what bit of hair he had left. He knocked, and wiped sweaty palms down the front of his trousers.

A young boy opened the door. “Hello. I’m John Hale, who are you?”

“I’m Mr. Eli Benson, young man, and I have come to see Mrs. Hardwick.”

“Oh, you mean Angel’s mama?”

“Yes, that’s who I mean. May I come in?”

“Papa, can the man who came to see Angel’s mama come in?” John shouted from the door.

Nate strode to the door, holding a little girl in his arms.

“Yes, John, please let him in.”

Shifting the baby to his other arm, Nate shook hands with the older man. “Sorry about that. I’m afraid our doorman is somewhat cautious.” He chuckled.

“That’s all right. It’s good to be cautious.”

Nate gestured toward the parlor. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Benson. I’ll have Angel see if Sylvia is ready.”

“No Mr. Benson, please. That was my father. Call me Eli.” He settled in a comfortable, if somewhat worn, chair in front of the fireplace.

His gaze roamed the room. This house had been prepared for a Christmas with children. An evergreen tree sat in a corner, decorated with paper angels and snowmen. A small wooden nativity set held the place of honor on the mantle over the fireplace, where five stockings hung. The excited chatter of children resonated from the back of the house, where it seemed they were enjoying a snack before bed.

“Are you Angel’s mama’s boss?” A small boy, who looked exactly like the one who answered the door, but dressed differently, stood alongside his brother.

“Yes, I am.”

“She likes working.” Serious eyes met his, as the boys joined hands.

Eli smiled. “I’m very glad to hear that. I’m Mr. Benson. Who are you?”

“I’m Luke Hale.” The child held out his hand.

Eli’s smile grew wider as he placed his large hand over the small one. “I’m very glad to meet you, Luke. I’ll bet this is your twin brother.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, how do you know that?”

Angel came into the room, extending her hand to Eli. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Benson.” She turned to the boys. “Go wash and get into your nightclothes. Your papa’s about to read
A Visit From St. Nicholas
.”

The boys walked backward as they left the room, staring at Eli the whole time. Eli chuckled, and wondered about life in a house as undersized as this with all these children. He shook his head in amazement. Nate and Angel certainly had their hands full.

His gaze shifted again to the mantle. “That’s a lovely nativity scene you have there. Did Nate carve it?”

Angel shook her head. “No, actually that belonged to my father. I couldn’t bear to leave it, when I left New York. His father, a carpenter, whittled it. It’s over fifty years old.” She reached for one miniscule piece and smiled. Then she turned to him. “I’ll see if Sylvia is about ready.”

After Angel left the room, he settled back in the chair, attempting to calm his thumping heart.

Several minutes later, Sylvia entered the parlor, and Eli’s insides twisted. Her red satin dress fit her like a glove. The low neckline revealed two perfect, creamy white mounds, enough to tantalize without being scandalous. The fitted bodice ended at her small waist, flaring out enough to suggest the soft swell of her hips. Eli remembered Sylvia had mentioned she’d sold all her jewelry to pay for a ticket to come to Oregon. If things proceeded the way he hoped, he would enjoy draping her in diamonds and gold.

He rose and, going to her, took her hand and kissed it softly. “You are absolutely beautiful, Sylvia.”

She flushed at his words, and gave a slight curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Angel stood behind Sylvia, carrying her coat. Eli took it from her, and helped Sylvia into it, resting his hands on her shoulders while she fastened it. Angel smiled at the both of them, and then glanced at Nate who stood in the doorway, a twinkle in his eye.

“I certainly hope we’ll see you both tonight.” Eli took Sylvia’s arm and tucked it into his.

“We’ll be there,” Angel said. “I love the idea of a Christmas party. We have to get all the children into bed first. Mrs. Darby will be over to stay with them.”

“Well, then, we’ll see you later.” He nodded and opened the door for Sylvia.

After helping her into the buggy, he hurried to the other side and climbed in on shaky legs. He planned to propose marriage, and he was a nervous wreck.

Chapter 17

A few blocks before his house, Eli halted the horses, and setting the brake, turned toward Sylvia.

“Why are we stopping?” Sylvia glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

Despite the definite chill in the air, Eli wiped sweat from his forehead, and swallowed a few times.

“Is something wrong?”

He took her hands in his, and cleared his throat. “Sylvia, you know I admire you a great deal.”

She smiled. “And I admire you, Eli.”

He pulled her a little closer. “I’ve been alone for many years. My wife died right after my daughter’s birth. I got busy building my businesses and making money, not realizing how much I missed in life. Until recently.”

Sylvia continued to regard him with a slight smile of inquiry.