Saturday's Child (9 page)

❧

Quentin was fastening his cuffs when someone knocked on the door of his room. Glancing up, he bade the person enter, reaching for his jacket as he spoke.

"I've just come to tidy your room, sir. If you'd prefer, I can come back later."

"No, this is fine. I was just leaving." It wasn't until he turned that he realized whom he was talking to. The stilted little voice had failed to ring a bell. "Edith. I didn't realize it was you. Did you see Katie yesterday evening? Is she well?"

"Yes, sir. I saw her." Edith's expression remained wooden, her eyes lowered to the feather duster she was whisking over a narrow table.

"And how is she? Is she rested?"

"A permanent rest is what she'll be getting," Edith said with a touch of acid in her voice.

Quentin had been reaching for his hat and walking stick. He had an appointment at his club this morning. At Edith's words, he turned to look at her, his brows raised in question.

"Permanent rest? Is she ill?"

"Not unless she's sick at the ingratitude that some persons have shown."

"Edith, pray stop talking in riddles," he said shortly. "Is there something wrong with Katie? Did she take some injury from the events of the other day?"

Edith turned to look at him, the duster clutched like a weapon in her fist. "She took an injury, all right. It's just like my brother William has always said. The rich is the rich and they make their own rules. Katie is the one who was injured, so it makes sense that Katie should be the one to be punished."

"Punished? What are you talking about?"

"She was given her walking papers yesterday. Not only from this household, but from her position at the shop."

"Where did you hear this?"

"From Katie herself. I went to see her last night, just as I'd said I would. Katie told me that Mrs. Ferriweather had let her go yesterday. Seemed she regretted it, but after Katie had made improper advances to one of the wedding guests, she had no choice in the matter. She had to protect the reputation of her shop. So there's poor Katie, booted out of her job and no one to care about it."

"I care," Quentin said quietly, his eyes cold with anger. "Thank you for telling me this, Edith."

"Well, Katie wouldn't thank me for it."

"I thank you for it." Picking up his walking stick and hat, Quentin left the room, a set look about his jaw that made Edith glad it wasn't she he was planning to talk to.

❧

"Excuse me, Mother, but I fail to understand your reason for complaining to Miss McBride's employer about her services. Are you aware that she has been fired?"

"Really, Quentin, what Miss McBride's employer sees fit to do is certainly none of my concern. I simply told her what had occurred."

Sylvie Sterling twiddled nervously with the elaborate diamond and emerald brooch that decorated the neck of her gray silk dress. There was something about Quentin that made her uneasy, always had, even when he was a child. He'd look at her with those big blue eyes that wanted explanations for things that other people simply accepted. And now, here he was, getting involved in something that was none of his concern. She felt vaguely put upon.

"Let's not argue over semantics, Mother."

"I'm not," she protested indignantly, uncertain of what he meant but sure it didn't sound ladylike. "You know, this is really none of your concern, Quentin. She's only a servant."

Quentin sighed. Staring at his mother's vacant, but still pretty face, he reminded himself that she was not an unkind woman. She just didn't believe in thinking—had, in fact, avoided anything approaching it all her life. A woman's duty was to be pleasant at all times; to dress herself in a manner befitting her husband's position; to maintain, and if possible, advance her position in society.

"Mother, last night Joseph attacked Miss Mc-Bride. He could have done her great harm if I hadn't interfered."

"Joseph told me all about the incident. Naturally, I had to tell Mrs. Ferriweather what had occurred. After all, I can't have that kind of thing going on in my house. All our girls are virtuous," she added firmly.

"Katie is virtuous," Quentin got out between clenched teeth. "Did you forbid Joseph to return to this house?"

"Certainly not." She was shocked by the idea. "He is a member of our family. The poor boy admitted that perhaps he'd been a trifle naughty but the girl enticed him, Quentin. He was quite embarrassed."

"Hellfire and damnation!" Quentin shot from his chair, his brows knotting over his eyes as he glared at his mother, who was staring at him in startled shock. "Katie would no more have tried to entice Joseph or any other man than.. .than you would," he finished irritably, pacing to the window to stare out at the pale sunshine.

"Really, Quentin." His mother drew herself up in her seat, her back rigid with offense. "I don't appreciate your comparing me to that girl. She has no breeding, no background whatsoever. This incident simply proves it. A truly virtuous young woman would never have allowed herself to be put in such a compromising situation. Enticing poor Joseph..." She dabbed at her eyes. "And that's another thing. Do you realize that you nearly broke your cousin's jaw, and knocked out three of his teeth?"

"I'm sorry I didn't wring his worthless neck," Quentin said bluntly, snatching up his cane and hat and striding to the door.

"Quentin." Sylvie's voice rang with alarm. She remembered that look from when he was a boy. That particular set of the jaw had always meant he was about to do something particularly distressing. "Quentin, where are you going?"

He turned in the door, fixing her with cool blue eyes. Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "Did I tell you that I'd come to San Francisco looking for a wife?"

"A wife?" She stared at him, trying to connect this apparently irrelevant statement to their earlier conversation. She half started from her chair as a possible connection struck her. It was too incredible to imagine, but there was that look in his eyes. "A wife? Quentin. You're certainly not— You wouldn't?"

"Yes, Mother, I rather think I would." He grinned wolfishly as she fell back, one hand pressed to her bosom. He set his hat at a jaunty angle before tossing the walking stick in the air, catching it with a wicked grin. "I think Katie McBride might be just the girl I'm looking for."

❧

He'd only meant the words to startle his mother out of her smug complacency, but as he strode down the street, the idea seemed to grow in his mind. He tried to dismiss it but it persisted. He'd come home to find a wife. Maybe he didn't have to go back to Wyoming without one.

Quentin paused at a street corner, waiting for a trolley to go by before venturing off the sidewalk. He didn't know a great deal about Katie McBride, but she seemed to be a girl of sound good sense. Whatever her background, it surely hadn't been one of ease and luxury. She understood the value of hard work, and heaven knew, ranch life provided plenty of that.

She was attractive and seemed intelligent. Knowing how isolated the ranch was, Quentin understood the importance of a woman he could talk to. Heaven forbid he should find himself sharing a house with a woman, miles from the nearest neighbor, only to discover she hadn't a thought in her brain but fashion. Not to mention that such a girl would have little enough to occupy herself.

No, his grandfather had been right in saying that he'd not find a suitable wife among the women of his own class. But Katie McBride was another story. She was not ill-bred. In fact, she seemed more refined than some of his sister's flighty friends.

By the time he stopped outside the scarred door of the room Katie shared with her brother, he'd wavered from one side of the fence to the other without coming to any conclusions.

The building was even shabbier than he remembered. His previous visits had been after dark, when the lack of light had helped to mask some of its seedier attributes. He'd narrowly avoided a fall when his shoe caught in the torn carpet and the woodwork showed the scars of too many careless bumps over the years, leaving splinters in the unwary hand.

He lifted his hand to knock on the door, his nose wrinkling at the scent of onions that drifted down the hall.

He forgot about the onions when the door opened. Katie stood in front of him, her eyes widening with surprise when she saw him. Surprise and not much welcome, he acknowledged ruefully. But then he could hardly blame her. The Sterling family was unlikely to be on her list of welcomed guests.

"Hello." He removed his hat, trying a smile on her.

"Hello, Mr. Sterling." Her eyes seemed to soften a bit but she didn't move back from the door.

"How are you feeling?"

"I took no permanent harm. Thanks to you." Did she add the last grudgingly?

"I told you before that you owed me no thanks."

"I'll not argue it with you." Katie shrugged. She turned her head and the light fell more fully on her face, revealing the dark bruises that covered most of one cheek. Quentin's fingers clenched over his hat, creasing the fine felt. The sight of the bruise made him wish he'd taken time to knock out all of Joseph's teeth.

"May I come in?"

She hesitated a moment before stepping back to allow him to enter the room. "Colin isn't here."

"I promise to behave with the utmost propriety."

"I know you will." This time he was almost sure she smiled. "May I take your things?"

His hat and cane disposed of, Quentin was suddenly at a loss as to what to say. Looking at Katie, all his indecision faded. She'd make a fine wife, strong, hard working, the sort of a woman to stand beside a man. It wouldn't be a love match but then, after Alice's death, there could certainly be no question of that.

Katie seemed a sensible sort but women could be notional. If she wanted flowery speeches, he couldn't give them to her. And of course, there was always the possibility that there was already a man in her life. It was the first time the thought had occurred to him and it was surprisingly unwelcome. He frowned.

Looking at him, Katie wondered what had caused him to look so fierce all of a sudden. It had been quite a surprise to find him standing in the hallway. She'd not expected to see him again. Not after Mrs. Ferriweather had dismissed her because of complaints his mother had made regarding her moral character.

Oh, Mrs. Ferriweather had been apologetic. She hadn't come right out and said so, but Katie had the feeling that she knew the real truth. But as she'd pointed out, Mrs. Sterling was a wealthy woman and that wealth gave her a certain amount of power. If she stopped patronizing an establishment, many of her friends would follow suit and Mrs. Ferriweather couldn't afford to lose the business.

Katie understood, but it didn't make her any less angry. She was the one who'd been attacked and nearly violated. Yet she was the one being treated as if she'd committed a crime. It wasn't fair. But if she'd learned one thing in her twenty years, it was that life was seldom fair.

"May I offer you some tea?" she suggested at last when Quentin showed no sign of speaking.

"No, thank you," he refused, guessing rightly that tea was a luxury likely to be in short supply.

"Would you like to sit?" He seemed so large, looming in the middle of the room. It was a relief when he nodded. He waited until she'd settled herself in a straight-backed chair before taking the remaining seat.

Looking at Katie, he was struck again by the restful air that seemed to drift about her. She sat there now, politely waiting for him to speak, her hands together in her lap. The gown she was wearing was not in the latest fashion, but it was of good quality. The pale green fabric set off the color of her hair so that it seemed to glow with a rich, inner light. There was only the lightest touch of lace at the throat and wrists, just enough to soften the austerity of the simple cut.

"Katie, would you like to see Wyoming?" He heard the question as if it were being asked by someone else.

"I beg your pardon?" She blinked, understandably confused by the seeming irrelevance of his question.

"I've a ranch there," he told her, as if she'd not already known as much. "There's a house. It's not much. Small, rather untidy but there's a pump in the kitchen. Another room could be added, to give us more room.

"The house needs work—curtains, rugs, that sort of thing. I'm afraid I've lived alone too long. A woman's touch would add warmth.

"The land is hard but beautiful. There's snow in winter, sometimes for weeks on end. But in the summer, the grass stretches for miles. There's a small garden, not much but it could be made bigger. The facilities are a little primitive but I could install a water closet this summer."

He stopped, wondering what else he should say. It had suddenly become very important that she come with him. He didn't know why; wasn't even sure he wanted to examine the reasons too closely. He just knew that he didn't want to go back without taking her with him.

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face uncertainly.

"Are you looking to hire a housekeeper, Mr. Sterling? For I'd have to be honest and tell you that I think you could do better."

Quentin opened his mouth, shut it again and stared at her. He'd thought he'd made it so clear. Drawing a deep breath, he stood up, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers.

"Actually, I was asking you to be my wife."