To Love Truly
A Historical Romance
CHAPTER ONE
Natchez, Mississippi
1852
Animal!
Gloria frowned at the sleeping man by her side, utterly disgusted by him. His loud snoring reminded her of the snorting of a pig, and he’d been every inch the animal when he drew her into his arms last evening. She winced at the memory of his large hands exploring her form and the pungent scent of his cologne assaulting her nostrils. Dismissing the urge to smother him with a pillow, she crawled out of bed.
The soft carpet tickled her bare feet as she groped in the darkness for her clothes. She found them on the floor by the door. The animal had ripped off a sleeve last evening, and had she not threatened to leave, he’d have torn the entire dress to shreds. Coleen would have to pay for a new dress, for it was the vicious madame who’d forced Gloria into the man’s bed.
Taking the remains of her dress, she hurriedly got dressed. Getting dressed was the best part of her job, for it marked the end of her torture. Once she got dressed, she could get rid of the pig that soiled her bed and forget for a few seconds who she was and what she did.
She stole another glance at the snoring redhead; her frown deepening at the sight of his unclad form. He was the mayor; the same man who joined the townsfolk to condemn and shun her. She thought of his wife. Where did Mrs. Bradley think her husband was tonight? A business meeting, a trip, a fundraiser for the church? No doubt the lying bastard thought up an excuse to get away from his pompous wife. Mrs. Bradley would believe her husband’s lies, as would every woman whose husband Gloria had given a taste of sin. And for this single reason—she thought, as she made her way to Mayor Bradley’s discarded coat on the floor—she always took a souvenir. She would store it in a safe place for later.
Smiling for the first time that day, she plucked a customized button from his coat and buried it in her pocket before stalking into the night.
*
“Perhaps we do not have to go ourselves. Let the servants do it,” Howard complained.
Stuart Sullivan paid little attention to his son, focusing instead on the pile of papers before him as he struggled to calculate the cost of his journey. The sound of wood scraping cement pulled Stuart’s attention to his restless son, who was now on his feet.
“Do you intend to ignore me the entire time, Father?” Howard ran his fingers through his hair wearily.
“It’s an unending conversation.” Stuart shook his head. He was as frustrated by his son’s incessant complaining as he was by his failing eyesight. Groaning, he pushed aside the documents and raised his eyes to Howard. “This is important to your mother.”
“Mother?!” Howard spat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Father. I have no mother, nor do you have a wife!”
Stuart was unsurprised by Howard’s comments, for he never had anything good to say about his mother. Still, it hurt as surely as a knife to the heart. Leaning forward, he settled his tired hands on the wooden desk. “Would it please you if I didn’t go? Would you rather I disregard your mother’s last wish?” He rubbed his aching eyes.
“It would help if you wouldn’t bother spending so much on an ungrateful, undeserving woman who only returned to you when she needed you. When she knew she was dying—”
“Howard!” he warned, anger swelling in his chest, causing his limbs to tremble. Gripping his desk, he fought to regulate his breathing. He was exhausted; emotionally from the recent passing of his wife, and physically from the nagging of his son, which left him with a headache.
Howard folded his arms and pursed his lips. Stuart shook his head, barely recognizing his son behind the many layers of grief, for it was grief that led to Howard’s unbecoming attitude — grief concealed in anger. He grieved for a mother he never had; a mother whose absence in life left a void that was widened by death. The result of an absent mother turned him into a bitter alcoholic who spent his time in the brothels.
“You will respect your mother’s memories,” Stuart warned, although he knew his warning would fall on deaf ears.
Howard was silent for several seconds before heaving a breath. “If you must go to Natchez, I’m coming along. Not for her,” he spat, “but for you. I’m coming along to make sure nothing dreadful happens to you on the way.”
Heaving a tired sigh, Stuart nodded reluctantly. While he didn’t look forward to Howard’s badgering, he didn’t suppose he could manage the journey alone given his ill health. “Alright, son, we’ll go to Natchez together to sprinkle your mother’s ashes.”
“I have no mother,” Howard murmured, “and you had no wife.”
Rising to his shaky feet, Stuart turned and made his way out the door to get away from Howard and his cruel words; even if they were indeed true — he never really had a wife.
CHAPTER TWO
Malicious whispers trailed Gloria’s movements through the teeming streets. She felt the heat of their indignant glances piercing her flesh. Raising her chin in the air, she straightened her shoulders and plastered a smirk on her face as she made her way to the dress shop.
The bell on the door announced her presence. The air appeared to be sucked out of the room the moment she entered. Silence wrenched the air as people stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Many people visibly showed offense, and some gasped loudly. These women might disagree on many things, but they all hated Gloria Grande. They spat when she walked the streets and hurled profanities at her, hoping to run her out of town.
If only she cared, she thought with a smile. As far as she knew, these folks didn’t have the moral standing to condemn her. Many were thieves, some were liars, and all were just as sinful as she was.
She took a purple fabric from the shelf and began heading toward another shelf on the other end of the store. She noticed then how empty the store had become. Ah, they couldn’t have good old sin rub off on their silky white garments. She touched a red lace fabric, inspecting the intricacy of the gold patterns. This was the color of sin; a perfect portrayal of infidelity. It would suit her perfectly.
“What are you doing here?”
Bunny! Gloria ignored the store owner as she continued to inspect the fabric.
“Your presence here is making the handful of women who haven’t stormed out yet uncomfortable,” Bunny growled.
“Hello, Bunny.” She turned to the blue fabric beside the red and ran her fingers over the soft silk.
“I would prefer if you’d keep your soiled fingers to yourself. Heaven only knows where they have been.”
Laughter escaped her lips as she turned to another black fabric. “Do you not mean hell, Bunny? Hell only knows where my hands have been. Certainly, heaven will not stand to look upon my activities.”
“You are not welcome here, you sinful woman!”
Gritting her teeth, she spun around to face the brunette, whose cheeks were burning red. “I’ll get what I want, and I’ll be out of your overly massive, ridiculously ugly skirt in no time, Bunny!” Gloria hissed, anger bubbling in her chest.
Bunny’s cheeks burned a brighter red, her hand immediately resting on her rounded waist. “You are not welcome in my store, and that’s that. I don’t need your money!”
“Well, Bunny, I would like to see you try to kick me out! If not, I would like to get back to shopping!” she hissed as she turned back to perusing the shelves that lined the wall. Who did these women think they were, anyway?! She gathered her skirt and began moving toward a bright yellow dress at the end of the aisle. But for Max, the bouncer who’d escorted her, she feared Bunny would have kicked her out.
She took the red fabric and marched to the counter, where Bunny still had a glare squeezing her chubby face. “How much?” She threw the fabric onto the counter.
“Sixty dollars!” Bunny spat.
Gloria raised a brow in question. Seeing the look of disdain in Gloria’s eyes, Bunny felt the need to explain: “Seeing as you sent half my customers storming out the front door because they could not bear the thought of shopping with a woman of your… profession, I figured you might as well pay for the money I lost along with those customers.”
She had half a mind to argue, but decided against it. Coleen was covering the cost of the fabric. It took many days before she agreed to replace the dress that the brutal Mayor Bradley had ruined. And Gloria didn’t doubt the source of Coleen’s money came from the husbands of half of the women who stormed out of the store. Knowing they would pay for her dress gave her great satisfaction—knowing she would recover this money, and more, from Bunny’s husband before the week ended, caused a smile to tug on her lips. “Do have a lovely day, Bunny.” She turned to leave, but turned back around. “You should try frowning less often; it makes you appear bloated.”
Bunny appeared ready to explode as Gloria turned from her and into the full glare of a wider audience.
*
Stuart clung to the vase containing the remains of his dead wife. He’d wanted to cling to her as tightly while she lived. If only Hannah had let him—if only she hadn’t abandoned her family for vanities. The years of their separation saw him clinging to the hope that she would return to be his wife and a mother to their young son. But she didn’t. Her absence cost Stuart the love of his life, and Howard, his humanity.
Howard despised his mother. He saw her failures, and they created within his once-tender heart a hardness Stuart could not overcome. Still, Stuart tried to make Howard see Hannah for what she really was: broken.
It was her brokenness that eventually killed her.
Sighing, Stuart admitted he needed to let Hannah go. She’d chosen this hilltop as her final resting place. He thought it an appropriate place for Hannah, for it was secluded from the bustling town. The hills stretched for miles, and the quietness created an atmosphere of peace and freedom. Hannah was never free nor at peace while she lived. She remained a prisoner until the very second of her death.
He opened the lid and stared at her ashes. A while ago, these ashes possessed the most beautiful smile. “I love you, Hannah,” he whispered. A lone teardrop landed in the vase and sank into the ashes. “Goodbye.” He emptied the vase; the wind carried the ashes into the distance.
Wrapping his arms around himself, he stood there for a while, feeling empty and alone. His legs felt numb, and his heart ached at the thought of returning to a joyless home and a bitter son. After several minutes, he turned around. Howard would come looking for him if he didn’t return in time for supper, and he didn’t wish to endure the rest of the evening listening to Howard’s grievances about his tardiness.
Readjusting his hat on his head, he turned with great difficulty and began his descent down the hill. He made his way through the bustling streets, barely paying attention to the people around him, until something crashed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He fell back, and nearly fell to his breeches, when a hand took hold of his arm and steadied him.
“I’m so sorry!” He shook his head. When he raised his eyes, he saw the most beautiful pair of green eyes he’d ever seen. They were engraved on a lovelier face. The woman’s high cheekbones, pointy nose, and thin lips enhanced her features. Charcoal curls peeked from underneath her white hat, matching her black dress and contrasting perfectly with her fair skin. “Forgive me, beautiful lady.”
She stared at him, her lips agape, her eyes clouding. “Are you talking to me?” She glanced around before turning back to him with wide eyes.
Stuart chuckled a little at the look of surprise in her eyes. She looked like a child at Christmas. “I suppose.” He smiled.
“I see.” She tapped a gloved finger to her chin. “Then, you must be new to this town.” She raised a brow in question.
“Hardly. I grew up here, got married here, and only moved to Jackson when—” He paused, remembering the humiliating event that forced him to move.
“No need!” She waved him off as a beautiful smile claimed her face. “Folks around here value their privacy—” The words died on her lips when something caught her attention. Reaching out suddenly, she grabbed his wrist. She searched his gaze, and he stared back at her, confused. “Shaky palsy,” she whispered solemnly; her words momentarily stopped his heart.
How did she know? Certainly, it wasn’t so obvious! Even Howard had failed to note Stuart’s declining health. How was his ailment so obvious to the rest of the world, yet hidden from his son? Howard was blinded by anger.
Stuart saw compassion in her eyes as she examined his hands. Then, just as quickly as she’d taken his hand, she released him and stepped back. “I’m so sorry.” She bowed her head.
“We should get going,” a voice called from behind her.
It was only then that Stuart noticed the hefty blond man behind her. The man’s eyes darted back and forth on the street. Stuart followed his gaze to find a crowd of spectators across the street. Confused, he turned back to the woman. “How did you know what it was?” he asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. He wanted to know who she was; she intrigued him.
“My father; it killed him,” she laughed nervously. “I will recognize it anywhere, having spent most of my childhood caring for such a man.” She turned slightly to the man who stood behind her. “We should get going, Max.” She turned back to Stuart, a smile on her face. “Nice talking to you, sir. It has been a while since I’ve had a decent conversation with anyone.” She moved to walk past him.
“Wait!” he called after her retreating back, causing her to pause in her tracks and turn around. “Have dinner with us,” he offered, finding it impossible not to. He desired her company.
A smile brightened her features, but disappeared as quickly as it appeared. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I have misled you. You see, I’m the town’s worst citizen. Hated by all, loved by none; town’s prostitute!” She gestured with her hand and gave a mock curtsey.
Momentarily stunned by her announcement, he stood silent.
“Which explains the crowd. See those women over there?” she pointed at a group of women whispering across the street, “They are gossiping about how shameless you are for soliciting a woman like me in broad daylight,” she said, loud enough for them to hear.
While he considered her words, he watched the crowd. He saw their indignation, and the embarrassment that marred the faces of the women she’d singled out. Not only did they loathe this woman, but they loathed him for speaking with her.
When he turned back to her, he found the same smile plastered on her face. Yet, through her smile, he saw a longing. He thought it was a longing for acceptance. “Dinner is at seven tonight,” he said.
Her smile wavered, and surprise flashed in her eyes. “Oh.” She licked her bottom lip and clasped her hands. “Are you certain you want the town’s prostitute soiling your reputation?”
The confidence in her voice would have fooled him if he weren’t such an excellent judge of character. “What’s your name?” he asked to remind her that her identity went beyond being the ‘town’s prostitute.’
She opened her mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Plastering a smile, she said, “Gloria.”
Stuart nodded. “Gloria, it will be an honor to have you at my home for dinner tonight.” Once he’d given her the address, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles—an action that evoked a collective gasp from the streets, and caused the one woman who’d only just recovered from swooning to swoon again.
Gloria flashed a smile that reached her eyes. “The honor is all mine, kind sir.”
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