Beloved (16 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

The stable boy was dispatched for the animal doctor, and Claude Romano moved the ailing canine into an empty stall, placing him on a bed of straw covered with a horse blanket. Ned didn’t let anything or anyone keep him too far from the dog.

Lord, please don’t let Dog die. Please let him live. I know there are greater problems in the world, but this matters so much to Ned
.

“Diana?”

She turned at the sound of Tyson’s voice, unreasonably glad he’d returned.

“Upchurch said there was some sort of problem down at the stables.”

“Not a problem, really.” She stepped out of the stall and drew her husband a short distance from the opening. “Ned’s dog is sick. We’ve sent for the veterinary surgeon.”

“Ned’s dog?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know he had a dog.”

A full explanation seemed too complicated now, so she shrugged as she looked toward the stall again.

“I suppose it’s going to end up living in the house too,” Tyson said under his breath.

She heard him … and couldn’t keep from smiling.

A wife, Tyson had wanted. A widowed mother-in-law, he’d expected. But a cat, an orphan, and now a stray dog as well? What a menagerie! Exactly when had he lost control of his household?

The answer to that last question was easy: he’d lost it the moment he decided to reunite with his wife. He hadn’t known it then, of course. He’d still thought he had a firm grip on the reins of his life.

He glanced heavenward and wondered if this was God’s way of teaching him not to rely on human wisdom. Or perhaps he’d become prideful. Either way, he suspected the Lord was taking him down a notch or two.

He watched as Diana returned to the stall. She touched Ned’s shoulder with her fingertips and spoke to him, something that caused the boy to look up and nod. She had a way with that kid. If not for her, the boy would have bolted as soon as he could walk without crutches.

Ned … What had Tyson’s father said last night? Something about Diana not being herself because of Ned. It hadn’t made sense then. It didn’t make sense now.
“You need to ask her what happened a few months after you left home for the last time.”
That same uneasiness rolled in Tyson’s stomach. He knew they needed to talk about
the past, he and Diana, but he was afraid of that discussion all the same. He had so much to be forgiven for. Far more than he should expect of her.

When the veterinarian arrived, Tyson followed him into the stall and stood against a side wall next to Claude Romano. Meanwhile, Diana drew Ned with her to the opposite wall while the doctor examined the dog.

Speaking softly, the groom assured Tyson that Rutger Van Pelt was a qualified veterinarian with a degree from a college of veterinary medicine in Pennsylvania. Quacks abounded in animal husbandry, but Claude Romano would make certain no such person came near any of Tyson’s horses or other animals.

After a thorough examination, Dr. Van Pelt stood and looked at Tyson. “I won’t pretend your son’s dog isn’t very ill, Mr. Applegate, but I believe he’ll recover.”

“I’m not—” Ned began, but Tyson saw Diana stop the protest with a quick squeeze on the boy’s shoulder.

“The dog’s a stray,” the groom said, no doubt insulted the veterinarian thought the Applegates would own a dog as sickly as this one.

“I see. Well, he’s malnourished and dehydrated. He’ll need to be fed and watered in frequent but small amounts until he gains strength. I’ll leave you with a powder to administer twice a day. Small canines like this one are naturally active. You’ll have to keep him closed up so he doesn’t overexert himself as he begins to mend. Rest and good nutrition are what will aid his recovery.”

“I can keep him with me,” Ned interjected. “I’ll make sure he’s quiet. I’ll take good care of him.”

Just as Tyson had feared. The dog would be moved into the house. Because even if he could’ve refused Ned, he was helpless against the beseeching look Diana sent his way.

Tyson walked with Dr. Van Pelt to his buggy and got a few more tips on caring for the dog. By the time the veterinarian pulled away and Tyson turned around, he saw Claude carrying the dog toward the house, Diana and Ned right behind him.

He just knew that dog was going to be trouble.

July 1896

Bored and restless, Tyson laid his cards facedown on the table. “Gentlemen, I’m done for the night.” He rose to his feet. “Hope your luck is better than mine.”

He went outside. The night was hot and sticky, but at least there was a breeze on the stone patio. Light from a full moon frosted the elegant grounds of the Kingston villa.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Pauline Kingston asked from the shadows.

Blast. He wouldn’t have come outside if he’d known she was there. “Yes.” He turned and watched her walk toward him. “It is.”

She put her arms around his neck and leaned close. “You’ve been ignoring me all evening.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

But he wasn’t sorry. He was bored with Pauline as well as with the nightly round of parties and drinking and gambling. Right now, he couldn’t remember the reason he’d followed Pauline and her brother Quentin from India to Italy. It wasn’t because he’d taken her for a lover—although he had.

“What’s wrong,
amore
?”

For some reason, her question stirred to life another woman’s image. Diana’s image. Sweet and beautiful. Innocent and naive. Diana … his wife. Pauline didn’t seem to mind that he
was a married man. At least he assumed he was still married. He wondered—

A yearning for home hit him hard. It happened a lot lately, but he wasn’t about to give into it. If he gave in, he would find himself under his father’s thumb once again.

And that he could not allow.

SIXTEEN

Tyson shared his opinion about the dog with Diana, and soon everyone in the household called the mutt Trouble. Even Ned.

One thing could be said about the boy—he kept his word. In the days that followed, while Trouble was too weak to go up and down the stairs on his own four legs, Ned carried him outside several times a day. The boy also coaxed food down him when no one else could and got him to drink water too. Ned rarely left the dog alone.

Not that Tyson saw much of that devotion firsthand. He heard about it from Diana over supper after long days of campaign work, days spent delivering speeches in Boise and other towns, days spent handling a multitude of details that would drive an accountant mad. He’d been so busy with the campaign, in fact, he forgot they were hosting a dinner party on Friday.

When he walked in the door—tired and wanting nothing more than a quiet few hours spent conversing with his wife—Upchurch informed him Robert had laid out Tyson’s evening attire and was waiting upstairs to assist him.

“And Mrs. Applegate?”

“I believe she is dressing as well, sir.”

“Thank you, Upchurch. When are our guests expected to arrive?”

“Within the hour.”

He swallowed a sigh and headed up the stairs to his bedchamber. His valet was waiting in his room, as Upchurch had said.

“Good evening, sir,” Robert greeted.

“Good evening.” He removed his tie and loosened his collar. “I suppose the house has been in somewhat of an uproar today.”

“Indeed, sir. But Mrs. Cuddy runs her kitchen like an army sergeant. She and Upchurch will make certain the evening goes off without a hitch.”

“I believe it.”

Tyson changed out of his business suit and into one suitable for a semiformal dinner in the home. It occurred to him as Robert finished with his tie that he probably should inquire about their guests. He knew the Waverleys were coming, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall who else was to be in attendance. He wasn’t certain he’d asked Diana after providing her with a list of possibilities.

He would ask her now.

But as he left his bedroom, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the first of their guests. And when he looked, he saw Diana had preceded him down the staircase and was moving into the center of the entry hall. He hurried after her so she wouldn’t be alone when Upchurch opened the door.

Diana glanced at him as he stepped to her side. He knew her well enough to recognize her anxiety.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

She gave him a nervous smile.

Upchurch announced, “Justice Samuel Waverley and Mrs. Waverley. Mr. Brook Calhoun.”

Cold surprise shot through Tyson as his gaze darted to the front entrance. The two men removed their hats in unison, followed by their gloves, and handed the items to the butler.

Iris Waverley stepped up to Diana and the two women clasped hands.

“We’re delighted you could come,” Diana said.

“We wouldn’t have missed it, my dear. My, what a lovely home.”

Tyson found his voice. “Welcome, Iris. Samuel.”

Upchurch announced the arrival of two more couples. Tyson’s brain barely registered the names as he shook Brook Calhoun’s hand and mumbled some sort of greeting. Did he sound earnest? He couldn’t be sure.

Diana said, “Mother was glad you could come, Brook. Thank you for joining us.”

“And where is my lovely dinner companion?”

“I don’t know.” Diana turned to look down the hallway just as her mother stepped into view. “Oh, good. Here she comes now.”

Brook moved away from the host and hostess and greeted Gloria Fisher with a bow and a kiss on the back of her hand.

Tyson schooled his expression, not wanting his guests to see the anger that flared to life in his chest. His wife’s betrayal was as sharp as a knife. He’d thought … He’d thought …

What had he thought? That a few weeks and some pleasant moments would heal the wounds in their marriage? Seven years of neglect couldn’t be overcome as easily as that. Still, he hadn’t expected this.

The knife twisted deeper into his heart.

Although Diana couldn’t see it on her husband’s face, she sensed his displeasure. Had sensed it the instant Brook stepped into the house. She’d been wrong to invite him, no matter how justified it seemed at the time. Sensible, too, to pair him with her mother. Or maybe it hadn’t seemed sensible. Maybe she’d done it out of spite. Which
was probably why she’d never found a moment to tell Tyson who would be present tonight.

Somehow Diana managed to smile and move among their guests, making them feel welcome, but the minutes dragged by. She avoided looking at her husband as much as possible, fearing what she might see in his eyes.

Dinner was announced, and the party moved to the dining room, Diana leading the women, Tyson and the men following behind. The gentlemen pulled out chairs for the ladies, then seated themselves. Samuel Waverley was assigned the chair on Diana’s right. His wife sat on Tyson’s right at the opposite end of the table. Gold-rimmed china and crystal glassware glittered in the lamplight. An elaborate centerpiece decorated the table. Almost in perfect unison, the party removed their napkins from the table and put them on their laps.

Tyson’s valet had been drafted to serve at the table for this affair. Under Upchurch’s watchful gaze, Robert brought in the soup course and first served Iris Waverley, then moved slowly and easily around the table until everyone had a bowl of bean soup before them.

Later, over asparagus polonaise, Tyson and Brook spoke briefly about horses without any show of animosity from either of them. Diana began to relax. Perhaps she hadn’t made a dreadful mistake after all. Perhaps she’d misread Tyson’s reaction when he saw Brook at the door. Perhaps—

A movement in the front hall caught Diana’s eye, and she looked up in time to see Ned pass from sight. Where was he off to? The front door and the library were the only possible destinations. Since he couldn’t read, he would have no reason to go to the library. But she could think of no reason for him to go out the front door either. She had explained they were entertaining guests this
evening, making sure he understood he should use the servants’ staircase when he took Trouble outside.

Should she go check on the boy? There must be a reason he’d come downstairs. Did he need her for something?

No, she answered herself. She couldn’t leave the table in the middle of dinner. It would require an explanation, and what would she say about the orphan boy who was staying with them?

The door from the butler’s pantry swung open, and Robert appeared again, carrying the main course of baked salmon. Diana’s thoughts returned to her guests.

Perhaps Tyson should have considered the acting profession instead of politics. He’d pulled off the evening without alerting anyone, not even Brook Calhoun, of his true feelings. But by the time Tyson and Diana stood near the door to bid their departing guests a good night, he felt the facade grow thin.

“Thank you for including me,” Brook—the last to leave—said to Diana, holding her hand longer than necessary. Then he looked at Tyson, his smile tight. “It was a pleasant evening, Mr. Applegate.”

Temper on the rise, Tyson nodded rather than risk saying something he shouldn’t.

Brook turned and walked toward his waiting carriage. A few moments later, Upchurch closed the door.

Diana went into the parlor and sank onto the first chair. She emitted a soft groan as she covered her face with both hands. Tyson followed her into the parlor, but he didn’t sit down. Instead he walked to the window and stared out at the darkness.

“I thought it went rather well,” Diana said. “Don’t you? Mrs. Cuddy should be commended. Everyone thought the dinner delicious.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

He turned to face her, anger increasing because of her response. Could she possibly
not
know what he meant? “Why did you bring Calhoun into our home?”

“Oh, that.” She offered a slight smile. “I needed someone to balance out the table with Mother. I couldn’t think of any suitable gentleman but Brook. Mother knows and likes him. It seemed a good solution. I … I didn’t think you’d mind since he is … since he’s a friend of mine and Mother’s.”

“You were all but engaged to marry him, Diana. Can you truly not see why I would mind?”