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“Ah,” murmured Beatrice, prolonging the conversation unnecessarily. “Then you have someone in mind?”
Felicity intensified her glare, and Beatrice smiled. Gabriel had paused, but Felicity didn’t dare look at him. She held her breath and waited excruciating seconds until he answered.
“Not yet.”
She breathed out with a whoosh. Thank goodness. He didn’t feel the same way she did. Her peculiar attraction was nothing more than a physical reaction based on the chance occurrence of thinking he was someone else. Once she got to know Robert, this unnatural feeling for Gabriel would vanish.
“But I do have an idea what I want in a wife,” Gabriel added, sending Felicity back to her napkin.
Mother’s eyebrows rose, and Daddy roared. “That’s the way to do it, son. Know what you want and go after it.”
“This is hardly a hunt, Branford,” Mother chided. “We’re talking about marriage.”
“And romance.” Beatrice smiled at Felicity. “Every woman longs for romance.”
Perhaps, but Felicity couldn’t afford it. She had to marry this summer before that horrid art school begins. “I’ve always believed a match is best made between two social equals with like minds.” She glanced at Robert to make her point perfectly clear. “Love can grow from there.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Beatrice conceded. “I didn’t always love Blake the way I do now. When we were young, I found him a bit of a rascal.”
“I was.” Blake laughed.
“Most boys are,” Gabriel said. “From what my sister says, I was, too. You ladies are right that love can grow over time.
It’s gentle and kind, two things we men are not too good at in our youth.”
“Gentle?” Robert snickered. “Very pastorly of you, Reverend, but in my experience, love is passionate and wild.” He gazed at Felicity. “It throws caution to the wind.”
Her pulse raced but not in an entirely pleasant way. His words should have thrilled, but a shiver of unease made her look away. She shook it off. He was merely telling her that he was interested—exactly what she wanted.
“Speaking of the wind,” Daddy said, “Blake tells me Hunter has some ideas on runway direction that contradict what you have on the blueprints.”
As the beef Wellington was served, Daddy, Blake and Mr. Blevins descended into talk about the airfield project. Felicity swallowed her disappointment. If only Daddy hadn’t changed the subject, Robert would have asked to see her again. She pulled the pastry off the beef and absently swirled it in gravy.
“I hear you’ve been accepted at a prestigious art college,” Beatrice suddenly said.
Felicity started. Why was Beatrice stirring up trouble tonight? On most occasions, she barely said a word.
Gabriel set down his fork. Was he going to tell everyone about their encounter this afternoon? She felt that awful heat wash over her again.
“Yes,” she said hastily, “an art academy.”
“The National Academy of Design to be precise,” Mother said haughtily. She leaned ever so slightly toward Gabriel. “That’s the finest art school in New York.”
Felicity blushed wildly. Gabriel knew that. “Mother,” she hissed.
“Well, it is.”
“And one of the finest in the country,” Gabriel said.
Once Mother got over the initial shock that he knew about art academies, she looked pleased. “See, Felicity. I told you that everyone has heard of the National Academy.”
Felicity squirmed. How could Mother slight Gabriel like that? He might be poor, but he wasn’t ignorant.
To his credit, Gabriel fielded the derogatory comment with grace. “You’re probably right, Mrs. Kensington.” Then he ruined everything. “Ms. Kensington, your sketches are very well done. That still life of the rose is particularly good.”
Felicity didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he meant Mother’s sketch hanging on the opposite wall. “It’s not mine,” she said stiffly.
“It might as well be,” Mother said with a wave of the hand. “Felicity’s work is charming.”
She would lie to a minister? That was practically like lying to God. “No it’s not,” Felicity said in a moment of contrariness. “I can’t draw a thing.”
“Felicity,” Mother hissed.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Beatrice graciously said. “You did a lovely sketch of a horse when we were in school.”
Mother did it. Mother always did Felicity’s sketches. Either the teachers didn’t know or they looked the other way.
“That’s why my Felicity is the perfect chairwoman of the Beautification Committee,” Mother stated, deftly turning the conversation in a new direction.
“Beautification Committee?” Gabriel asked.
Beatrice raised guileless blue eyes. “The Beautification of the Sanctuary Committee.”
Mother explained, “We’ve decided to replace the plate glass window inside the entry with stained glass.”
“We?” Gabriel looked around the table. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”
Felicity wanted to hide. Mother should have told him at the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting. She should have laid out all her plans to the new minister. It was just like her to settle the matter before he arrived to avoid any opposition.
Mother waved off the question. “Don’t fret. You’ll hear all about it at our next meeting.”
Gabriel gulped. “Are you telling me this is a Ladies’ Aid Society project?”
“Of course, and my Felicity is chairing the committee.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened. “I thought the Ladies’ Aid Society raised funds to help the poor.”
Mother’s artificial smile tightened in preparation for a fight. “That is one of our missions. Helping our church is another.”
“But the poor—”
“Pardon me, Reverend, but you’ve been in Pearlman less than a day. I believe we know a bit more about our town than you do.” Though Mother spoke in a singsong tone, her words cut with the efficiency of a scalpel.
Gabriel’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Felicity wanted to encourage him, but then she heard Robert snicker and realized what a fool Gabriel was making of himself. Mortified for him, she tried to think of another topic of conversation, but her mind had gone blank.
Looking stricken, Beatrice took the lead. “Felicity, when is the first meeting? We can discuss this all then, not at dinner.”
How could she answer? She didn’t know a thing about the project or the committee, not even who was on it, but she couldn’t admit ignorance. She lifted her jaw and squared her shoulders. “I will contact you when a date is set.”
“But shouldn’t we begin soon?” Beatrice asked. “I understand it can take some time for a window to be constructed. Bad weather will be here before we realize it.”
A lady always maintains her composure. Felicity kept her head high. “Everything is under control.” It clearly was not.
Gabriel was upset with Mother’s project, and Robert had resumed talking about the airfield. If she didn’t do something quickly, she’d lose her chance to claim his attention.
“I’m terribly hot,” she exclaimed, setting her napkin on the table. “May I be excused, Daddy? I’d like to take some air.” She didn’t wait for his approval to push her chair back.
“May I escort you, Ms. Kensington?” Robert asked, setting aside his napkin. He held out a hand.
Perfect. She beamed as she placed her hand on his. At last, her plan was underway.
Gabriel itched to follow Felicity, but she could never care for a man who chased after her. So he waited anxiously for the meal to end.
The Wellington lost its flavor, and he couldn’t ignore the empty places beside him. What would they say to each other? What would they do? No small part of him wanted to run out and protect her, for what kind of man spoke so carelessly of passion, equating it with lasting love? He knew the answer: a man who wanted to use a woman for his own pleasure.
“It is hot in here,” Kensington said, interrupting Gabriel’s thoughts. “Let’s all take our dessert in the garden.”
Though Gabriel eagerly assented, judging by the grim set of Eugenia Kensington’s lips, she supported her daughter’s withdrawal with Blevins. Thankfully her father had better sense.
They caught up with the pair on the porch. A waning moon couldn’t compete with the bright gas lanterns lining the driveway. Moths fluttered against the globes, hopelessly attracted to what would kill them.
Felicity still hung on Blevins’s arm, gazing into his ridiculous face with adoration.
Peeved, Gabriel asked if she felt cooler now.
Felicity ignored his question. “Founder’s Day,” she whispered to Blevins. “Remember, green satin ribbon.”
Judging by Blevins’s grin, he understood what she meant, but instead of answering, he kissed her hand and broke away just as Kensington approached.
“Mr. Blevins, join Blake and me in the study,” the patriarch said. “I have a question about your blueprints.”
Blevins of course obeyed. He had little choice, since Kensington employed him, but that left Gabriel to reap the rewards of being alone with the ladies. He snared a crystal bowl of strawberries with cream and offered it to Felicity.
“Would you care for dessert?”
She hugged her arms and shivered. “No, thank you. I’m still a bit fatigued.” Without asking his pardon, she departed, leaving a faint scent of roses lingering in the air.
Gabriel knew a brush-off when he saw one. Felicity Kensington not only preferred Blevins but she disliked him intensely. The feelings he had for her were not mutual.
He gathered the remnants of his battered pride and faced the remaining women. Eugenia and Beatrice Kensington had watched the entire exchange. Felicity’s mother smirked, while Beatrice looked dismayed. Gabriel forced a smile. “Nice evening.”
They exchanged small talk, but he could barely keep his mind on the conversation. He wondered what Felicity meant by those furtive instructions to Blevins. Clearly they’d planned to do something on Founder’s Day, whenever that was, but what did the green satin ribbon mean? Was it to indicate where they could meet in secret? Surely there was no need. Eugenia Kensington clearly supported a match between her daughter and Blevins. Clandestine meetings always led to no good. Gabriel had seen his share of unwed mothers, abandoned by their lovers as soon as they were with child. He shuddered to think that might happen to Felicity, but he didn’t trust Blevins. Something wasn’t right about the man.
“Pastor, glad to see you’re still here.” The hearty greeting came from Branford Kensington, flanked by his son and Blevins. He shook Blevins’s hand. “Shall we call it a night? You’ll want to start first thing in the morning.”
Blevins apparently understood a dismissal when he heard one, for he gathered his hat and cane and thanked Mrs. Kensington for a fine dinner. As the man passed, Gabriel smelled whiskey. That shouldn’t be—not with prohibition. Yet somehow he’d gotten liquor.
Kensington’s intense gaze honed in on Gabriel. “You and I have a little unfinished business, Pastor. Let’s go to my study.”
That was not a suggestion; it was a command. Gabriel swallowed a nut of worry. What had he done to upset Kensington? Had he been too forward with Felicity? Did Kensington suspect his interest in her? Every step down the long hall intensified his dread.
The study was paneled in mahogany and filled with heavy furniture. A gun rack with nine hunting rifles spanned the wall behind him. A Cape buffalo head stared blankly with dark, glassy eyes while gazelle, moose and antelope mounts graced the other walls.
Rather than sit in the low chair across the massive desk from Kensington, Gabriel remained standing. He’d been forced low enough for one night.
“Care for a drink?” Kensington pulled the stopper off a crystal decanter filled with a dark liquid.
Whiskey. Fingers of dread danced along Gabriel’s spine. That’s where Blevins got it. Kensington might have stockpiled a legal supply before the law took effect. Even if he hadn’t, like most rich men he would think he was above the law.
“I don’t drink,” he said with quiet condemnation.
Kensington held the stopper in midair and laughed. “It’s sarsaparilla, son, not alcohol.”
But Gabriel had smelled whiskey on Blevins. Perhaps Blevins carried a flask, or maybe Kensington put the liquor away for the minister.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Suit yourself.” The man rapped his knuckles on the desktop before taking his seat. “I’m a man who likes to get straight to business.” He leaned back in his chair, at ease with the world and whatever he had to tell Gabriel. “You’ve seen the town, inspected the church, met a good portion of our congregation. You’re a man of education, correct?”
Gabriel nodded, though the question was rhetorical.
“Then you see how things add up around here.”
Gabriel saw nothing of the sort. “What adds up?”
Kensington smiled paternally. “You’re a bright young man and can see how things run in this town.” He steepled his fingers. “There’s one thing I’d like you to keep in mind.”
Gabriel’s mind raced through the hundred things Kensington could demand: silence about illicit alcohol, blinders for every indiscretion. He could even dictate the sermon topics.
Kensington leaned forward, gaze intent. “Remember who’s in charge.”
“What?” Gabriel backed up, not believing what he’d just heard. The man was threatening him, telling him that he had to get approval for every idea.
“I think you know what I mean.”
The initial shock settled in Gabriel’s belly with a dull fire that grew with each successive thought. He had ignored every slight and innuendo tonight. He’d endured Eugenia Kensington’s derogatory comments and turned a cheek to Blevins’s superior attitude, but he could not accept bullying.
Nor could he remain silent when the evil of drink was seeping into this town. Gabriel Meeks did not bow to any man.
“Yes, I do, sir.” He trembled beneath shackled ire, ready to fight. “I know exactly who’s in charge. God is.”
Gabriel spun away but not before glimpsing a peculiar grin on Kensington’s face. The man thought he had Gabriel exactly where he wanted him. Well, he was wrong.
Without a word, Gabriel left the room, the house and very likely his first pastorate.
Chapter Four
Day two, and Felicity’s plan was progressing on schedule. Even though Robert hadn’t asked to see her again, he would have if the rest of the dinner party hadn’t shown up at the most inopportune time. Still, she’d won his assurance that he would bid on her Founder’s Day picnic basket. A little trinket inside would assure him of her interest.
