Page 41 of Just Imagine
Cain slouched into the chair behind the desk, propped his heels on the mahogany surface, and crossed his ankles. His posture was deliberately insolent, but she didn’t let him see that it annoyed her. Earlier that afternoon when she’d been veiled, he’d treated her as a woman. Now he wanted to treat her as his stable boy. He’d soon see it wouldn’t be that easy to ignore the years that had passed.
“I told you to stay in New York,” he said.
“So you did.” She pretended to study the room. “That portrait of Mr. Lincoln is out of place at Risen Glory. It insults my father’s memory.”
“From what I hear, your father insulted his own memory.”
“True. But he was still my father, and he died bravely.”
“There’s nothing brave about death.” The angular planes of his face grew harsh in the dim lamplight of the room. “Why did you disobey my orders and leave New York?”
“Because your orders were unreasonable.”
“I don’t have to explain myself.”
“So you seem to think. I fulfilled our agreement.”
“Did you? Our agreement was for you to conduct yourself properly.”
“I completed my time at the Academy.”
“It’s not your activities at the Academy that concern me.” Without taking his feet from the desktop, he leaned forward and extracted a letter from a drawer. Then he slapped it on the desk. “Interesting reading, although I wouldn’t want to show it to anyone who’s easily shocked.”
She picked it up. Her stomach twisted when she saw the signature. Hamilton Woodward.
It is my sad duty to report that last Easter, while a guest in our house, your ward behaved in a manner so shocking, I can barely report it. On the evening of our annual dinner party, Katharine brazenly attempted to seduce one of my partners. Fortunately, I interrupted in time. The poor man was stunned. He has a wife and children, and is prominent in local charities. Her wanton behavior makes me fear that she might be afflicted with the sickness of nymphomania . . .
She crumpled the letter and threw it on his desk. She had no idea what nymphomania was, but it sounded horrible. “This letter’s a lie. You can’t believe it.”
“I was reserving judgment until I had a chance to travel to New York at the end of the summer and speak with you personally. That was why I told you to stay where you were.”
“We had an agreement. You can’t set that aside just because Hamilton Woodward is a fool.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.” She felt the color burning in her cheeks.
“You’re telling me you don’t make a habit of offering your favors?”
“Of course not.”
His eyes drifted to her mouth, forcing her to recall what had happened between them only a few hours earlier.
“If this letter’s such a lie,” he said quietly, “how do you explain slipping into my arms so easily this afternoon? Was that your idea of proper conduct?”
She didn’t know how to defend something she couldn’t understand herself, so she went on the attack. “Maybe you’re the one who should explain. Or do you always assault the young women who come into this house?”
“Assault?”
“Consider yourself lucky I was fatigued by my journey,” she said as haughtily as she could manage. “Otherwise my fist would have ended up in your belly. Which is what I did to Mr. Woodward’s friend.”
He dropped his feet to the carpet. “I see.”
He didn’t believe her. “It’s interesting that you’re so concerned about my behavior, but you don’t seem to be giving any thought to your own.”
“It’s not the same thing. You’re a woman.”
“Ah, I see. And that makes a difference?”
