Read Online Unfinished (Historical Fiction) by Harper Alibeck - Free Book Online
Authors: Harper Alibeck
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Da than Ma, and James had taken after the men on his mother's side, thick and huge, with a side of sarcasm.
“Yes, James. Don't be getting any ideas,” he growled, the threat clear.
“You in there with someone?” Bobby asked, the leer loud and clear in his voice.
“Go away before I beat you,” James warned. “I won't tell you again.”
“I'll go tell Ma what you're up to. You got some expensive whore in there? How'd you get the money?”
Lilith clapped one hand over her mouth at the word “whore,” he eyes going wide with mirth. Glad someone is amused by all this , he thought.
“You're right, Bobby. You figured it out. I'm sleeping with a whore in a fancy carriage outside Tinker's. How smart you are, for a boy who left school in fifth grade. Now get!”
Bobby ran off and shouted, “Hey, Pat! You won't believe this! Come see!” A few curtains in dimly-lit windows pulled back and James knew he'd just provided more stories for the gossips than any racing paper.
The coachman chose that moment to stagger out of the door to Tinker's. “What's going on?” he asked Bobby with a slurred roll to his words.
Lilith grabbed James' hands and pulled them to her chest. Her heart beat like a big bass drum. “He'll be here any moment and then I need to go. My father is leaving town on Thursday – can we meet again then?”
He opened one hand and placed his palm inside the “v” of her shirt, the hot flesh a balm for his nerves. “Yes. But there's something I have to tell you – ”
“Tell me Thursday,” she whispered, eyes going hard as the coachman appeared. Her entire being changed, back straightening and eyes hooded with a sheen of frost that belied the heated scene he could feel, still trapped in his trousers, the ache tempered only by decent social expectations and the coachman's appearance.
“Yes, Ms. Stone. I'll follow your instructions carefully, and let Mr. Reed know how you'd like your business conducted,” James said loudly, his stage voice just enough to catch the ear of the coachman. He climbed out of the carriage.
Lilith moved to sit in the center of the padded seat and nodded politely, as if his hand hadn't just seared her breast, as if hers hadn't just given him an exquisite caress that he'd carry home with him. Her closing off pained him, a piercing of his consciousness that tasted like turned communion wine.
The coachman muttered, “I think Jack Reed's been in quite enough of her business already,” then winked at James.
It took every ounce of control not to knock him out. That would be his only victory over his emotions that night.
As the carriage pulled away he took a few steps toward home and winced. The shoes, like his pants, were too tight, a painful reminder that nothing about him fit quite right anywhere.
Chapter Five
D EAR L ILITH ,
B EFORE WE MEET on Thursday, I must tell you something that could change your mind. I am leaving for the country of Chile in two months. For the past two years I have spent considerable time on a business venture dealing with the sodium nitrate trade, and have brokered a business deal in which I will have my own mine there. I realize this is an unusual story and, very well, may be one that you find preposterous, but I assure you it is true. You may ask my business associate, Maria Escola, about the venture; her father has provided the capital for the mine.
The other night I asked you what this is. I no longer need a name for it or a label, but as a gentleman I felt it necessary to tell you that my long-term prospects are in South America and not here in Boston. Should you wish to no longer see me, I fully understand.
Yours,
James
Lilith read the letter four times consecutively, snorting each time she read “Maria Escola” and “business associate.” The pieces of the puzzle fit, then; a poor boy from Southie with aspirations slept his way to capital money from Maria's father.
Ouch.
Was Lilith a conquest, too? With a father with deeper
“Yes, James. Don't be getting any ideas,” he growled, the threat clear.
“You in there with someone?” Bobby asked, the leer loud and clear in his voice.
“Go away before I beat you,” James warned. “I won't tell you again.”
“I'll go tell Ma what you're up to. You got some expensive whore in there? How'd you get the money?”
Lilith clapped one hand over her mouth at the word “whore,” he eyes going wide with mirth. Glad someone is amused by all this , he thought.
“You're right, Bobby. You figured it out. I'm sleeping with a whore in a fancy carriage outside Tinker's. How smart you are, for a boy who left school in fifth grade. Now get!”
Bobby ran off and shouted, “Hey, Pat! You won't believe this! Come see!” A few curtains in dimly-lit windows pulled back and James knew he'd just provided more stories for the gossips than any racing paper.
The coachman chose that moment to stagger out of the door to Tinker's. “What's going on?” he asked Bobby with a slurred roll to his words.
Lilith grabbed James' hands and pulled them to her chest. Her heart beat like a big bass drum. “He'll be here any moment and then I need to go. My father is leaving town on Thursday – can we meet again then?”
He opened one hand and placed his palm inside the “v” of her shirt, the hot flesh a balm for his nerves. “Yes. But there's something I have to tell you – ”
“Tell me Thursday,” she whispered, eyes going hard as the coachman appeared. Her entire being changed, back straightening and eyes hooded with a sheen of frost that belied the heated scene he could feel, still trapped in his trousers, the ache tempered only by decent social expectations and the coachman's appearance.
“Yes, Ms. Stone. I'll follow your instructions carefully, and let Mr. Reed know how you'd like your business conducted,” James said loudly, his stage voice just enough to catch the ear of the coachman. He climbed out of the carriage.
Lilith moved to sit in the center of the padded seat and nodded politely, as if his hand hadn't just seared her breast, as if hers hadn't just given him an exquisite caress that he'd carry home with him. Her closing off pained him, a piercing of his consciousness that tasted like turned communion wine.
The coachman muttered, “I think Jack Reed's been in quite enough of her business already,” then winked at James.
It took every ounce of control not to knock him out. That would be his only victory over his emotions that night.
As the carriage pulled away he took a few steps toward home and winced. The shoes, like his pants, were too tight, a painful reminder that nothing about him fit quite right anywhere.
Chapter Five
D EAR L ILITH ,
B EFORE WE MEET on Thursday, I must tell you something that could change your mind. I am leaving for the country of Chile in two months. For the past two years I have spent considerable time on a business venture dealing with the sodium nitrate trade, and have brokered a business deal in which I will have my own mine there. I realize this is an unusual story and, very well, may be one that you find preposterous, but I assure you it is true. You may ask my business associate, Maria Escola, about the venture; her father has provided the capital for the mine.
The other night I asked you what this is. I no longer need a name for it or a label, but as a gentleman I felt it necessary to tell you that my long-term prospects are in South America and not here in Boston. Should you wish to no longer see me, I fully understand.
Yours,
James
Lilith read the letter four times consecutively, snorting each time she read “Maria Escola” and “business associate.” The pieces of the puzzle fit, then; a poor boy from Southie with aspirations slept his way to capital money from Maria's father.
Ouch.
Was Lilith a conquest, too? With a father with deeper
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