Chapter Eight
Rake juggled the bouquet of flowers in his hands, nervous about seeing Josephine. Slightly unsettled since he’d just had another fight with Penelope about the baby and whether or not it was really his. Penelope’s words still clung to him like an oil slick on the water.
“Do you really think it’s your child? The little gold digger just sees a way to move up in the world.”
Nothing Josephine had done before their night of passion would lead him to believe that she’d been trying to use him to improve her lot in life nor had her actions since then. If anything, she seemed determined to do it on her own. Or rather, with Martin. Even if a different Pinkerton had been working at the hotel of late. He wondered where the good detective had gone and what that meant for his relationship with Josephine. Maybe she’d broken their engagement. The thought lightened his spirit and quickened his steps.
When he passed by the concierge desk though, only Mr. Adams was present. The man told him Josephine was on a short break, so he hurried down to the small spare room where the employees sometimes gathered for rest.
The door to the room was open and when he peered inside, he realized Josephine was there, sitting at a table and sipping tea along with two other women. They jumped to their feet when they spied him.
She looks tired, he thought as he approached, the bouquet tucked behind him since he didn’t want to be too obvious in front of her friends and his other employees. It wouldn’t be good to be seen favoring one of his workers, especially not with the recent layoffs.
“Mr. Solvino,” she said, with a respectful dip of her head.
With a look at her friends, he said, “Miss Valencia. And who might these other young ladies be?”
Josephine gestured to each of them as she introduced them. “Miss Duarte and Miss Garcia.”
“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you mind giving us a moment?”
The two young women murmured their consent and hurried away, tittering to themselves and closing the door behind them.
Handing Josephine the flowers, he said, “I’ve missed our nighttime talks in the kitchen.”
She glanced at the bouquet, but didn’t take it. “They’ve found another employee to fill Mr. Slayton’s position, so there’s no need for me to work a double shift anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t see each other,” he urged.
She held up her hand and pointed to the pitiful little diamond ring on her finger. “This means we can’t. I’m engaged to Martin.”
“Funny, but I haven’t seen your detective around lately,” he chided, earning a glare and uplift of her chin.
“What do you want, Rake?”
Ah, there was the spunk he liked so much. Though it wasn’t quite as appealing when directed so dismissively at him. “I told you, Josephine. I want to be with you.”
Wagging her head back and forth, she said, “That’s not going to happen.”
As determined as she seemed to be, he could be just as determined. And if he couldn’t push straight through the obstacle, he certainly intended to find a way around it no matter how long it took.
“That may be, but I deserve a chance to get to know my child. Surely you don’t intend to deny me that, especially since the odds are that I can never have another.”
It was obvious his point had struck home. Pressing that point further, he cupped her cheek. Her skin was so smooth beneath his fingertips and palm. So familiar even in so short a time that if he closed his eyes, he would know her just with a simple touch.
She sensed that connection and swayed toward him, the moment shimmering between them with possibilities.
“Rake,” she said, her tone filled with want and doubt. “We can’t. This could never work between us.”
Because he was a patient man, he said, “We’ll see, Josephine. All I want is a chance to be in my child’s life.”
The door shot open behind them, and they jerked apart as a trio of hotel workers burst into the room. His employees stopped short as they saw him, but he smiled at them and said, “Carry on. I was just thanking Miss Valencia for filling in when we needed her.”
With another smile in her direction, he thrust the flowers into her hands and hurried from the room, not wanting to spark gossip by lingering too long.
After all, there would be talk enough when Josephine began to show.
Francesca and Liana were waiting for her when she ended her shift, their faces alight with questions. Her friends would have made wonderful interrogators during the Spanish Inquisition. They often walked home together, as Francesca and Liana lived with their parents in the cottages as well. Josephine acted as if nothing unusual had happened earlier.
“That was nice of Mr. Solvino to bring you flowers,” Liana said as she walked beside her friend.
“Who says he gave me flowers?” she said.
“Lily, Monica, and Abigail. They said they walked in on you and he handed you the flowers he had with him when we met him,” Francesca piped in.
Flowers that she’d tossed into the wastebasket the moment she returned to the desk. “They were a thank you for filling in for Mr. Slayton.”
“God rest his soul,” her two friends said in unison.
She stopped short. “He’s dead?”
“They found a body in the river. They think it’s him,” Liana said.
“Didn’t Martin tell you?” Francesca asked.
“No,” she murmured shakily and started walking again.
Her friends were silent, the night quiet. The sounds of their skirts rustling and soft footfalls joined the call of night creatures. The hushed noises created a rhythm that was smooth, almost soothing, until Francesca said, “Where is Martin? I haven’t seen him around lately.”
“Shhh,” Liana chided.
Josephine paused once again and inhaled deeply. “He’s on assignment in Palm Beach. He may be there for a few weeks.”
Liana and Francesca shared a concerned look that turned conspiratorial.
“I think it’s time for us to do something different tonight. I hear the Women’s Club is doing readings from Miss Austen’s works at the public library,” Liana said.
Francesca clapped her hands with glee. “And Mr. Seybold is keeping his lunch counter open late so that the ladies might visit after. This is so perfect.”
“Well, Josephine? Will you join us?” Liana prodded.
Inside Josephine, her heart warmed with the love bathing her. “A night of Jane Austen, sweets, and my two best friends. What more could I ask for?”
Almost nothing else, she discovered later as she finished the slice of chocolate cake and listened to her friends chatter about Mister Darcy and the readings they’d heard at the Women’s Club earlier that night. In truth, she’d rather preferred the snippet from Sense and Sensibility and the roguish John Willoughby. Josephine always enjoyed reading about the scoundrels a bit more than she should.
“It’s so romantic,” Francesca gushed. “Isn’t it romantic, Josephine?”
“It is. That’s why she’s my favorite.”
Liana leaned forward to see her down the length of the counter. “She’s wonderful. I’m so glad we did this. It’s been too long.”
It has been too long what with dating Martin, working, and trying to write, she thought. It had been fun to get all dolled up with her friends, who had also put on their Sunday best. They’d done their hair in chignons secured with their finest barrettes. Swan-bill corsets completed their outfits, giving them the pleasing curves that were all the rage.
“Let’s do this again,” she said, rising and standing behind her friends so she could hug them. Hard. “Soon. We need to do this again soon.”
Really soon, because she hadn’t felt so normal in a long time. It gave her hope that maybe things could get back on track quickly.