The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

“Oh, I disagree. An epidemic might be much more likely to come from one of your large department stores. I understand one of them was finally made to destroy a group of women’s clothes that had been sewn in a smallpox-infested tenement.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. Peter sat back in his chair and looked with relish from Ginna to Margaret.

It was Edward who calmed the situation. “Wasn’t that how the Spanish got rid of nearly half the Indian population?”

“With women’s clothes?”

“No, silly. With blankets from some of their sick.”

“How did we ever get off on such a terrible subject?” Henry asked.

“Margaret brought it up,” Peter answered.

“Well, she’d better be quiet. Or I’ll have trouble keeping my breakfast down,” Edward said.

They were an irreverent group, close-knit and sure of themselves. Ginna didn’t fit in any more than Nathan would have fitted in, with his talk of tadpoles and frogs. She toyed with the strawberries on her shortcake, and with her back to the double doors into the large dining room, she did not see the latecomer as he stood in the doorway surveying the people in the room.

“Look at that beautiful young man standing in the doorway,” Elizabeth said, nudging Hannah. “I wonder who he is.”

“I don’t know. But I think he’s headed this way. Peter, who is he? If you know him, promise me you’ll introduce me,” Hannah begged.

“No, Hannah. Remember, I always have first choice,” Margaret reminded her.

“Not this time, Margaret. You owe me a favor. And I’m calling in my marker right now. Peter, introduce him to me first.”

As the man approached the table, Ginna turned around to look, while Margaret and Hannah leaned forward in eager expectation.

“Ginna.”

“Jonathan.”

What was he doing in Chicago? He was supposed to be in Washington. Or even at one of the derbys. But never here in the Union League Club.

Jonathan towered over the table. In a voice filled with confidence, he said, “Please excuse me, but I’ve come to claim my fiancee.”

His hands reached toward the chair to help Ginna up just as Peter stood.

“May I present Jonathan Meadors. Peter Atwilder, my host.”

“Weren’t you at Saratoga in May? One of your horses, if I remember, came in second.”

“First,” Jonathan corrected, shaking hands with Peter. He didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone else at the table. “I’ve just arrived from Washington, so I know you’ll understand if I spirit Ginna away from you.”

Peter gazed ruefully at the young woman beside him. “I understand. But I still don’t like it.”

“Good-bye, Peter. Please thank your mother and father for a delightful breakfast.”

And with that, Ginna began to walk across the expansive floor, Jonathan’s hand at her elbow. She was almost afraid to leave the Union League Club with him. For she had already seen the look of battle in his eyes.

CHAPTER

26

“Just what did you think you would gain by running away like this?”

Ginna glanced at the doorman as they passed by. His eyes looked straight ahead and he politely gave no indication that he had heard Jonathan’s question.

“I didn’t run away. My family knows perfectly well where I am.”

Jonathan still kept his hand at her elbow, guiding her down the steps and to the curbing where the phaeton waited. Ginna recognized the Lachlan crest, but the small carriage was unattended except for a street urchin standing nearby. Jonathan tossed the boy a coin, and with a sweep, he lifted Ginna into the carriage and climbed in beside her.

“Then what did you think you would gain by trying to break off our engagement?” he countered. “Especially when I was out of town.”

“Trying?” she repeated. “The engagement is broken. I could never marry you now, Jonathan.”

“I see you’re still wearing my ring.”

“Only for appearances. I sent it back with the letter, but your mother returned it to me.”

Jonathan laughed, but it was a harsh sound, not intended to show pleasure.

“As soon as we reach Morrow’s house, I’ll give it back to you. Unless you want me to take it off now.”

“You’re not going to take it off ever again, Ginna. We’re going to be married, and that’s final.”

“No, Jonathan. I could never marry you now.”

Jonathan pulled out into the street traffic, his anger at Ginna showing in his face. But he was careful with the horse, for the surface on the macadam street was slippery.

Once he was into the steady flow of traffic, he said, “My mother told me the whole story, Ginna. But the fact that my mother and your father were once married to each other has little to do with us.”

“Oh, Jonathan, can’t you see? It has everything to do with us. When you asked me to marry you, I was a different person, with a suitable background—a family name. Now I’m an imposter, with nothing to offer.”

“My God, it must be that damned Victorian influence that makes you talk like that. We’re different in America, Ginna. Here, any man can rise above his name or lack of one, or the society in which he was born.”

“A man, yes. But not a woman, Jonathan. The other day when I went with Morrow, a woman was dying in a tenement room because no one would help her. And do you know why? Because she didn’t have a name for the baby that was trying to be born.”

“And you equate yourself with some poor immigrant here in Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“Then the sooner we marry, the sooner we can leave this place.”

“I don’t understand your logic, Jonathan.”

“You and I are going back on the train to Washington together. You’ll have no Lila Montgomery to chaperone you. If you think your reputation is compromised now, then think how you will look to the gossips when they find out you traveled alone with a man.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear any more from you, Ginna. We’ll talk with Morrow when she gets home and then make our plans.”

“She couldn’t possibly go along with such a