The Wedding Dress(13)

But Phillip was heir to the Saltonstall fortune. He’d be a captain of industry, a leader in Birmingham. Emily would be involved with the women’s league or whatever charity or cause she chose. She’d have her heart’s desire, including an estate up on Red Mountain the size of four or five Ridley house apartments.

“Yes,” she said out loud. “Phillip is the logical choice. The best choice for overall harmony.”

“Good, glad we cleared that up. Now, go see what your father be a-wanting and get out of my kitchen. You’re distracting me, and your mother will want to know why dinner is not ready.” Hazel tears glistened in Molly’s eyes. “I’m happy for you, miss.”

At the hall mirror, Emily paused to smooth her hair over her shoulders and clip the stray hairpins to her waistband. She tucked in her shirtwaist and dusted her hands over her skirt, satisfied that the evidence of her tears was gone. After she visited Father, she’d wash and change for dinner.

Molly’s weepy smile boomeranged in her mind. I’m happy for you, miss. But so much emotion over Emily deciding Phillip was the better choice? She had no time to ponder. She was at Father’s library door.

“Afternoon, Father.” Emily entered the grand, cool room without knocking. Father spent his mornings at his exchange office, returning home in the afternoons to work in the comfort of his library. Beyond the large windows, a stand of cottonwoods shielded the windows from the sun’s setting summer rays.

“Emily, my dear.” Father rose from his chair, but he was not alone in the room. Phillip also rose as Emily entered.

“Phillip, you’re here.” She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. She must look a sight. After seeing him in the city, she rode the dusty trolley home. “I didn’t expect you so soon.” She glared at Father. “Why didn’t you have Jefferson tell me?”

“I arrived early to speak with your father.” Phillip was handsome and fragrant, poised and confident with a constant glint of merriment in his eyes. He crossed over to her and kissed her cheek in a gentlemanly fashion—one he did not observe when they were in his carriage alone.

Emily leaned into him, though Daniel’s soapy scent and brawny strength flashed across her mind. She lifted her head as her fingers squeezed Phillip’s narrow arms and cleared her throat. “You smell like the fancy perfume shops.”

“A fragrance I bought when I was in Paris last year. Do you like it?”

“It’s you, Phillip. Very rich.” Though she preferred the single clean scent of Daniel’s lye soap.

“Well”—Father cleared his throat and came from around his desk—“I need to place a call to the office. Excuse me.”

Emily watched Father leave, a sinking sensation dragging her heart through her stomach. Once the library door clapped closed, Phillip hooked Emily to him, tilting her chin up and kissing her lips. When he lifted his head, he nodded toward Father’s desk. “Shall we tell him the telephone is in here?”

Emily squeezed his hand. “I think he knows.” What was going on? Father leaving her alone with Phillip. His ardent kiss . . .

Leading her to the window seat, Phillip brushed his fingers lightly along Emily’s jaw. “You are so beautiful.”

“I’m a sight. I planned to change my dress and redo my hair before you arrived.” She leaned away from his hand, which sent waves of shivers coursing through her. It was as if he knew, knew, how to touch her.

“I like your hair down. You must wear it like that for me.” Phillip trailed his finger over her chin and down her neck, stoking the small flame he ignited. “I never asked you, how was the suffrage meeting?”

“It was—” Emily swallowed, scooting an inch away from his fingertip. What if Father returned to find her flushed and panting? Besides, all Phillip’s touching . . . kissing her nose . . . and the side of her lips. His movements were calculated and cunning.

“The meeting was . . . splendid. Yes, splendid.” She jumped up, shoving the perspiration on her forehead into her hair. “It’s . . . it’s warm today, is it not?” If he continued touching her that way, she’d melt into a passion puddle on the floor.

Mother had raised her to be a controlled, reserved gentlewoman. What would Phillip think of her if she surrendered so easily to his advances?

“I’m sorry, I’m making you nervous.”

“You’re terrifying me, Phillip. I’m trying to be a lady, but even a cultured Christian woman can only stand so much.”

“And a man can only stand so much. ’Tis why I’ve come.” He reached for her and drew her back down to the bench seat, cupping her face, searching her eyes. “I’ve asked your father for your hand.” He bent down to one knee.

“Oh, Phillip.” Emily pressed her hands to her chest, anticipation surging through her veins. “I’m wearing an ordinary day gown and—”

“I found this in a Paris shop last fall. The moment I laid eyes on it, I knew it would be for my intended. But I didn’t know who yet.” Phillip retrieved a small wooden box from his jacket pocket. “Then I escorted you to the Black and White Ball. By evening’s end, I knew I’d marry you.”

Nestled in the silk bed was a square-cut solitaire surrounded by smaller diamonds. The setting was an intricate, sparkling lattice weave.