Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever.

—Carroll Bryant

E dward closed the ledger book he'd finally found. His father had buried it in the lowest right-hand drawer of his massive desk. He'd hidden the key to the drawer, and it had taken attempts with two different letter openers on two separate occasions to unlock. Then, as now, his co-worker and friend Jack Curzon kept watch.

Returning the heavy book to its place, Edward sat back in his father's leather chair and stared at a photograph of his parents taken during a second-honeymoon trip to Europe. How could his family make it through the tough times ahead of them?

He had finally found the information he needed about his father's predicament. He'd uncovered statements for a bank loan tucked into the back of the ledger. Everything had gone haywire when his father made a disastrous short sale on the Elkins Cotton Conglomerates stock.

A series of fires started by mysterious explosions had caused Elkins to lose several East Coast textile plants. Father's plan to sell the stock quickly had almost gone off without a hitch. But then news of the fires had turned up in headlines all over the country the next morning. Edward, away at Princeton at the time, hadn't known about any of it. He'd found newspaper clippings about the mysterious fires tucked inside the ledger book too.

The short sale on the Elkins stock had backfired, and Father had to buy back all of it at a much higher price. His partners couldn't bail him out. Edward's father had made tough business decisions and liquidated other valuable stocks to survive the ordeal and tide them over. After draining his savings, Father had dipped into the account containing the dowries for his sisters. Edward had found his father's penciled notes entered in neat lines of the ledger book about each of these transactions, along with notations about his actions to reverse the damages. Check with partners for help , for example. Balance from savings applied to short sale , was another.

When these moves hadn't covered the losses, he'd taken out a ridiculously large loan with high interest. No wonder he'd sold one of their tenements and now tried to sell another. Father needed to not only pay back the loan, but replace the dowries for his daughters and the savings he'd drained. At the same time, he needed to increase sales and find ways to bring in more clients for Beckett Reed. It was also clear that his father was struggling to make the monthly payments on the loan…until Edward could hand over some of the dowry from his marriage to Veronica.

The outstanding loan balance would indeed come down with the profits from the sale of the first tenement. But even if Father managed to sell more property on his current trip, he still wouldn't be able to pay the loan completely off. This also left Edward's parents with nothing to retire on and no dowries for his sisters. In addition, they'd need to continue cutting expenses as much as possible to climb out of their current hole.

Edward shuddered at all that he'd discovered. He rose from the desk, glancing around to make sure everything looked tidy. The flowers his sisters had brought to welcome Father home looked nice, but if they only knew their dowries had entirely disappeared! They might not feel much like bringing flowers to their father's office if they knew their bleak future and the reasons behind it.

On second thought, his sisters might have hopes of Father returning early, but they didn't know how desperately Father needed to sweet talk and entertain his potential buyer in order for the sale to close. May as well make good use of the flowers and give them to Veronica. He swiped the summer bouquet from the vase and an empty file folder from the desktop he'd use as cover for his foray into Father's office. Returning to his own office down the hall, he laid them aside.

Jack poked his head around the corner, tapping on Edward's door with his knuckles. "Glad to see you're back." He kept his voice low. "No one stepped out into the hall while you were gone. I kept the secretary distracted by asking her questions about where we order our coffee, as you suggested."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Jack peeked out into the hall and raised his voice. "Did you find the file? Careless of us to misplace something so important."

"Yes, I found it." Edward grinned and handed him the file.

"Good. Can you try to be more careful next time?" Still spoken loudly.

"Okay, you can close the door." Edward waved Jack inside. He offered a polite chuckle, though in truth, he was in no mood to laugh. His father's financial situation looked bad, bleaker than he'd imagined. No wonder Father had pressed him to marry Veronica.

Jack closed the door and sat in the chair in front of Edward's desk. "Just wanted to let you know, I've picked up three new clients in the past two days. I'm hoping you can mention it to your father when he returns."

"Still hoping for that promotion to a senior-level partner?"

Jack nodded. "Beckett, Reed, Johnston & Curzon has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Nothing would make me happier. It's what I've been working toward, putting in all these extra hours."

"I'll slide in a good word, on one condition." Edward shot him a sly grin.

"What's that?"

"You'll let me borrow your horseless carriage so I can take Veronica for a drive. I've spent too much time at the office lately." He dreaded the place and longed for his garret, his artwork, and time with his fiancée. "I need to impress her tonight with something fun and different."

"I think we can arrange that. I'll be in the Adirondacks for a couple of weeks. Just don't forget to put in a good word for me with your father." Jack winked.

Edward smiled, though for that to do any good, he'd need to find a miraculous solution.

A fter Henrietta and Sophia left, Veronica repeatedly swiped tears away, perched on the edge of her bed. She tried to talk some sort of sense to herself. If she'd seen Edward at all over the past few days, perhaps she would not have so many doubts swimming through her mind, but she hadn't, and his sisters had filled her head with doubts and questions. Did he have poor character, like the ones she saw in his sisters? Like the one Henry Sullivan had shown?

Had Edward dined with Mirabel in secret, behind her back? It seemed unlikely he would tell her if he had a mistress, so she would simply have to conduct her own investigation. If the answers led to her discovering he had a compromised heart, she would return his ring and refuse him.

She trembled and wiped more tears from her eyes, reeling as her entire world came to a crashing halt. Maybe Edward didn't truly love her. Maybe he only wanted her dowry. Perhaps everything they'd built together stood on a lie instead of the truth and the trust she thought they shared.

But she couldn't assume anything until she discovered the truth.

She patted Roosevelt. The little dog sat on the edge of the bed, content to cuddle up beside her, his tail wagging every now and then. She needed fresh air to clear the thoughts swirling through her mind.

Donning her favorite purple riding habit, she pinned her hat in place and arranged the long white veil to trail properly from the brim of the black hat, over her chignon and down her back. Satisfied with her outfit, she used a hook to button her riding boots.

She located a canvas shopping tote from the wardrobe of her guest room. Then she tucked Roosevelt inside it so only his fluffy white face peeked over the edge. She slung the handle over her head so that it rested from one shoulder to her opposite hip, patted her furry friend, and headed downstairs.

Finding Frances in the dining room, polishing the silver for Aunt Mae, she paused in the door frame. "Frances, I'm going for a ride on one of Aunt Mae's horses. I'll be taking Roosevelt with me, but I'll return in about an hour."

"Do you want company?" Frances asked with an arched brow as she set aside a gleaming silver spoon.

"No. Someone should be here to tell Aunt Mae and Mrs. Cleave I won't be gone long, in case they return earlier than expected. I need a little time alone and some fresh air. A short ride will do me good."

"All right, Miss Veronica, I understand. The saddles in your aunt's stable are much heavier and wider than the ones we have in Kentucky. It's because of these great big horses," Frances warned her. "Arthur, your aunt's groundskeeper, left early today. It seems we're the only ones around at the moment. Do you want my help saddling one of those huge horses?"

"I figured the saddles would be enormous." She shook her head. "No need to help. You know me—tough Kentucky girl."

A few minutes later, Veronica bridled and hoisted a proper side saddle over Aunt Mae's chestnut stallion in the narrow stable behind the house. She managed to buckle the belt under his girth and found the stepstool. She despised riding sidesaddle, but she couldn't exactly ride through Manhattan streets as though she owned the place as she did at Velvet Brooks. Even so, it would feel marvelous to get out and about.

"Here we go, Roosevelt," she said, patting the sweet dog. She took a moment to speak gently to the horse, stroking his long neck and enjoying the feel of the reins in her hand. "Ready, Cornwall?" At least she remembered the horse's name from hearing her aunt's groundskeeper, who also functioned as a groom and occasionally a driver, speak to him. She snapped the reins, urging him forward. "Yaw, boy."

Cornwall's hooves clicked on the stable floor, moving them forward and down the drive. The poor fellow probably hadn't been ridden in a coon's age. "You'll love this, old boy. Show me New York. Take me anywhere you'd like to go, since I feel utterly lost and filled with despair today."

Naturally, Cornwall turned of his own accord from Grosvenor onto Fifth Avenue, toward Central Park, putting a weak smile on her face.

Veronica hardly noticed the mansions they passed, unable to acknowledge any of the beauty around them. The little dog, however, eagerly looked around, taking in everything with bright eyes. Her own eyes misted with tears as they plodded down the avenue, the traffic thickening the farther they traveled.

As they yielded onto Broadway, Roosevelt peeked his head out of the tote, and before Veronica could stop him, he scurried out and leapt into the air at a remarkable height. A cry left Veronica's throat. Thankfully, he landed safely on all four paws, but she gasped, seeing him in the middle of the road. What was he doing?

Roosevelt had spotted a stray cat.

As the little dog sprinted toward the feline on the sidewalk, Veronica called out, "No, no, Roosevelt! Come back!" But there was no way he would hear her over the commotion of traffic.

A freight wagon rumbled past, blocking her view. For a moment, she lost sight of the precious cargo Evangeline Cleave had entrusted her with, and she released another frightened gasp.

By the time her view cleared, the little doggie had already covered a great amount of distance. But thank the Lord, he'd somehow made it safely across the oncoming traffic.

She eyed the conveyances coming toward her in the opposite lane, and as soon as a lull occurred in the steady stream of wagons, buggies, and carriages, she hollered, "Yaw!"

Commanding the horse with all of her might, she nudged a heel into Cornwall's girth, steering him at a diagonal angle across the street and onto the sidewalk. They flew past a grand hotel as they tried to catch up with Roosevelt's head start. When nearly a whole block with few people on the sidewalk appeared before them, she urged Cornwall to gain speed. His trot turned into a gallop, his hooves clicking in glorious motion beneath her. They had to catch that dog!

Veronica leaned into his mane as low as she could, holding tightly to the reins, her skirts whipping in the wind. Ahead, a number of people stood in line to purchase produce from a vendor's cart. At the speed they traveled, her only hope lay in Cornwall's ability to jump over the cart. If she steered right, she risked a head-on collision with some fancy carriages. If she steered left, she risked trampling innocent and unaware pedestrians. She could still just see Roosevelt up ahead, but if she didn't get past that vendor cart, she would probably lose Evangeline's darling dog.

"All right, old boy," she whispered to Cornwall's ear. "Let's see what you've got." She snapped the reins again. Cornwall gave her what she asked for, sailing over the vegetable cart as people scrambled to her right and left.

H alf an hour after leaving the office, Edward sat behind the wheel of the idling horseless carriage in the drive of Jack's family's Fifth Avenue home and tried to think of somewhere he could take Veronica for dinner. Maybe he'd let her choose. She had probably heard about some place to try, but he'd best hurry before the traffic grew any worse.

He steered the Oldsmobile to the left in the half-circle drive, bringing him back to facing Fifth Avenue. And stopped with his mouth falling open. A woman was galloping a horse at the end of Fifth Avenue where the street forked, connecting to Broadway at Madison Square.

Edward would know that purple riding habit anywhere. Veronica!

He pulled onto Fifth Avenue and followed, pushing the pedal to the floor. What could have caused her to break into a full gallop on one of the busiest streets in Manhattan? Obviously, something urgent.

His astonishment quickly turned to fear at seeing her cross at a crazy angle onto the sidewalk. What on earth? Would he forever find himself chasing his fiancée down on a horse?

A vegetable cart loomed in her path. His palms began to sweat as he gripped the steering wheel. Surely, she would stop. But no! She was going to jump it. Edward forced himself to relax his grip. If anyone could land the risky jump, she could.

But only when she succeeded did he release the breath he hadn't even realized he'd held. "Oh, Veronica! What are you up to, my love?" he muttered, still trying to keep up with her. The wagon ahead of him stopped to turn, and now he had to wait, his foot on the brake when he wanted to move forward.

Suddenly, just past Weber's Music Hall and Daly's Theatre on 30 th Street, she cut left. He intended to follow—as soon as another oncoming buggy cleared out of his way. She steered her horse to the right on Seventh Avenue, still traveling by sidewalk, scaring lots of folk who stopped to turn and look at her ride past them with their mouths wide open. The horse continued at a gallop, thundering down the sidewalk.

As she neared the Metropolitan Opera House, a constable on horseback blew his whistle. The officer managed to pull up alongside her, bringing her to a stop for the first time since Edward had spotted her back on Fifth Avenue. He shook his head and prayed the officer wouldn't haul his fiancée off to jail.

Edward tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for traffic to move. Veronica pointed out something up ahead and said a few words to the uniformed man, her steed breathing hard and swishing his tail. She waited for the constable to respond. Then the two of them took off at an even greater speed on the sidewalk—toward a little white dog.

At least now some of her actions made sense, though Edward didn't recall Aunt Mae having a dog. It looked like a fluffy poodle, maybe wearing a bit of blue ribbon, but for whatever reason, it must be awfully important.

This time, the constable pulled slightly ahead of Veronica, blowing his whistle, clearing the way through the busy sidewalk, alerting passersby to step out of their way as their horses thundered past shops, hotels, restaurants, and a few more vendor carts. At least Veronica didn't have to jump over anything else.

Whatever she'd said to the constable, it had garnered her the help she needed. Edward did his best to keep up without wrecking Jack's shiny red Oldsmobile.

When the dog stopped to rest, perhaps giving up on its chase, the constable and Veronica finally caught up with it. Edward found a place to park on the side of the road and jumped out of his conveyance. He raced across the street as Veronica dismounted.

"Roosevelt! Here, little guy!" Veronica's voice rang out as she fell to her knees and the fluffy poodle leapt into her arms.

Still some distance behind them, Edward reached her panting horse and took the reins. The officer knelt next to Veronica, shaking his head as she introduced him to the dog. A moment later, the constable helped her to her feet, patted the white dog, and bid them farewell.

When the officer mounted and rode away, Veronica turned and spotted Edward. As her surprise receded, tears pooled in her eyes. He'd missed her, too, badly…but was that hurt in her big brown eyes? Whatever it was, she tried to hide it from him as she approached, then fell into his arms. Then it was as though a dam broke, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"What is it, Veronica?"

She gulped, and hard crying ensued, the kind where she couldn't utter a word. He clasped her close in the middle of the sidewalk, still holding the reins to her horse, the little dog between them.

When she regained her composure, he stepped back. "Are you all right?"

She looked deep into his eyes and shook her head. "No, but I will be."

He nodded, knowing she couldn't talk about it yet. "Who is this fella?" he asked. "And what did you say to the officer to engage his help?"

"That part was easy. I told him this was Mrs. Cleave's dog." She smiled for the first time and held the poodle up, the two of them rubbing noses. "This adventurer is Roosevelt, and I was in charge when he made his grand escape."

"He's a cute fella. And I can see why the constable would help you. Everyone knows Mrs. Cleave." He patted the poodle between his ears, and the dog wagged his tail.

"Let's get him home before Aunt Mae and Mrs. Cleave have a conniption. Where did you come from, anyway?" She glanced around.

"I happened to recognize you when I was driving back on Fifth, but let me help you mount," he said as she tucked the dog inside a tote she wore over her shoulder. He assisted her into the saddle, earning a weak smile of gratitude.

"Thank you, Edward. I've missed you." She took the reins in her hands with a strange and deeply contemplative look.

"I missed you, too, more than I can say. Jack loaned me his Runabout." He motioned toward where he'd parked the conveyance. "I was headed to your place to see if you wanted to have dinner. I have the automobile for a couple weeks while he visits the Adirondacks with his family."

"Oh." She patted Roosevelt. "Yes to dinner, but maybe something quiet, just us, at my aunt's. I'm not up to going out."

"That sounds terrific. I'll meet you there." What was wrong with Veronica? She didn't seem her usual chipper self, especially after such a spirited ride. "Promise me you won't gallop down the sidewalk? I'm too tired to bail you out of jail."

"Deal." She smiled, but the gesture was too weak to convince him that everything was okay. She hadn't even laughed at his attempt to joke. Could he find a way to encourage her to trust him with whatever was bothering her?