Read Online The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder by Amethyst Creek - Free Book Online
Authors: Amethyst Creek
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Susannah wore a gown of violet satin with a lace shoulder shrug. The bodice was cut to flatter her lovely figure. A choker of pearls wound about her throat and diamond and pearl combs adorned her bountiful hair. Thomas looked very handsome in a black tailcoat and vest, black trousers and a silk cravat. Those in attendance were effusive in their accolades concerning the quality of the food and the ability of the orchestra.
As was customary at a leap year social, Susannah reserved the first and last dances for her husband. The ladies took care of their escorts in the very same way the men had always taken care of them. They carried refreshments to the gentlemen and asked all the proper questions: ‘are you sitting in a draft? May I get you a shawl? Are your poor feet aching?’ Some of the men loved the attention they were getting, others regarded the dancing with the air of someone waiting his turn to be executed.
Jack was sitting among the other ‘wallflowers’, waiting until a lady asked him to dance. Charlotte Mansfield had already claimed one dance with him and even now, as she was dancing with another, she was eyeing him again. In the space of one dance she had interrogated him about his family, what brought him west and if he had ever visited England. He needed to do a better job of blending in with the wallflowers. Maybe then she would lose track of him.
He watched as Edward Mansfield led Susannah into a waltz, his hand placed possessively on the small of her back, pulling her closer, and with a false smile plastered on his face. Jack studied Edward and took his measure. From the lay of his cravat to the cut of his polished boots, Edward, he concluded, was a planned production. He was a strategist, an opportunist, perfectly turned and ready for anything. Jack’s face was rigid with disapproval. Where was Thomas? He scanned the crowd for him. He was dancing with Mrs. Gibson.
“You look exquisite tonight,” Edward said to Susannah as he guided her into a turn. A blush crested her cheeks. Edward pulled her closer, her curves tempted a man to touch and linger. He glimpsed the swell of her creamy, full breasts and held her as close as he dared. “Have you found happiness here?” he then asked as he held her gaze
She thought it a bold question, if not impertinent. It surprised her, caught her off guard, and made her feel uncomfortable. Her life was full, her marriage a happy one, her new home – peaceful, and her many new friends, a blessing. She did not need to defend her decisions. Susannah started to formulate an answer when to her additional surprise, Jack cut in most unexpectedly.
“My turn, I believe, Mansfield,” said Jack firmly.
“Mr. Simmons, it is for the ladies to choose their partners,” she protested.
“Sometimes the rules are meant to be broken,” Jack said stubbornly as he whirled her away. She saw darkness in his eyes and could sense the heat and brutal strength of his immense body. The pleasant scent of bayberry shaving soap and tobacco also filled her senses.
“I had to intervene, Susannah,” Jack said honestly. He smiled at her but she pretended not to see. “Your friend Edward is a bounder,” he added bluntly.
If this wasn’t impertinence she would eat her lace. “I can look after myself, sir,” Susannah answered dismissively, “and you are being unkind.” Her vibrant eyes speared him with defiance.
His gaze was coolly reproachful. “He pretends to be something he is not. But perhaps I should defer to your superior knowledge of his character,” said Jack.
“Perhaps so,” Susannah agreed. “I
As was customary at a leap year social, Susannah reserved the first and last dances for her husband. The ladies took care of their escorts in the very same way the men had always taken care of them. They carried refreshments to the gentlemen and asked all the proper questions: ‘are you sitting in a draft? May I get you a shawl? Are your poor feet aching?’ Some of the men loved the attention they were getting, others regarded the dancing with the air of someone waiting his turn to be executed.
Jack was sitting among the other ‘wallflowers’, waiting until a lady asked him to dance. Charlotte Mansfield had already claimed one dance with him and even now, as she was dancing with another, she was eyeing him again. In the space of one dance she had interrogated him about his family, what brought him west and if he had ever visited England. He needed to do a better job of blending in with the wallflowers. Maybe then she would lose track of him.
He watched as Edward Mansfield led Susannah into a waltz, his hand placed possessively on the small of her back, pulling her closer, and with a false smile plastered on his face. Jack studied Edward and took his measure. From the lay of his cravat to the cut of his polished boots, Edward, he concluded, was a planned production. He was a strategist, an opportunist, perfectly turned and ready for anything. Jack’s face was rigid with disapproval. Where was Thomas? He scanned the crowd for him. He was dancing with Mrs. Gibson.
“You look exquisite tonight,” Edward said to Susannah as he guided her into a turn. A blush crested her cheeks. Edward pulled her closer, her curves tempted a man to touch and linger. He glimpsed the swell of her creamy, full breasts and held her as close as he dared. “Have you found happiness here?” he then asked as he held her gaze
She thought it a bold question, if not impertinent. It surprised her, caught her off guard, and made her feel uncomfortable. Her life was full, her marriage a happy one, her new home – peaceful, and her many new friends, a blessing. She did not need to defend her decisions. Susannah started to formulate an answer when to her additional surprise, Jack cut in most unexpectedly.
“My turn, I believe, Mansfield,” said Jack firmly.
“Mr. Simmons, it is for the ladies to choose their partners,” she protested.
“Sometimes the rules are meant to be broken,” Jack said stubbornly as he whirled her away. She saw darkness in his eyes and could sense the heat and brutal strength of his immense body. The pleasant scent of bayberry shaving soap and tobacco also filled her senses.
“I had to intervene, Susannah,” Jack said honestly. He smiled at her but she pretended not to see. “Your friend Edward is a bounder,” he added bluntly.
If this wasn’t impertinence she would eat her lace. “I can look after myself, sir,” Susannah answered dismissively, “and you are being unkind.” Her vibrant eyes speared him with defiance.
His gaze was coolly reproachful. “He pretends to be something he is not. But perhaps I should defer to your superior knowledge of his character,” said Jack.
“Perhaps so,” Susannah agreed. “I
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