Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark

wound. Are you ready?” Thad positioned the bottle over the wound.

      “No.” The sailor opened one eye. ’S a waste o’ whiskey, Doc. Lemme drink it ’stead. Arrrgh!” The seaman’s body went rigid as the whiskey hit the raw flesh. His head slumped to one side.

      Thad stared down at the unconscious man. Seamen were a tough lot. Whiskey poured into a wound must hurt more than he thought it would. It was something to remember. He filed the knowledge away and picked up the needle. There was a thumping at the door. He glanced over at the sailor slumped on the settle against the wall. “Open the door, please, before they break it down.”

      Thad glanced up from his sewing as the sailor returned with two other seamen in tow. One of them had a broken arm dangling uselessly at his side, and the other had a deep gash on his face and was missing part of an ear. He frowned and went back to his stitching. It was going to be a long and profitable night.

      “Well, tomorrow you move into your new home, Laina.” Justin glanced over, met his sister’s gaze and smiled. “And tomorrow night you can walk in your own gardens.”

      “Yes.” Alone. Laina blocked the thought from her mind and returned his smile. “And soon after, I shall have a wonderful party in those gardens. Elizabeth is helping me with the invitation list, and Madame Duval is making me a beautiful gown for the occasion.” She stepped close, threaded her hand through his arm and looked up at him. “You will be very proud of me. It will be my first effort to take Abigail’s place as hostess extraordinaire of Philadelphia society.”

      “Well, don’t take on her astringent personality. You are enough of a challenge to me as you are.”

      Laina laughed and squeezed his arm. “Surely you’re not calling me difficult?”

      Justin grinned down at her. “There is no safe answer to that question. I shall ignore it.” She wrinkled her nose at him. He laughed and patted her hand. “I have good news.”

      “Oh? What is it?”

      “I had a letter from Judge today. Your house in New York has sold. You received an excellent price for it.” He guided her to the left. “Since you’ve no immediate need of it, if you wish, I will invest the money for you.”

      Laina nodded. “I think that is wise. Do you have an investment in mind?”

      “No. There are several to consider before making a final decision.”

      “I see.” She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Would the new waterworks be one of them? I am so favorably impressed with the running water in the kitchen and dressing rooms at Twiggs Manor. Surely others would be as taken with the idea.” She frowned as Justin chuckled. “You find my thoughts amusing?”

      He quieted and looked down at her. “No, indeed. I find them impressive. Very impressive. I didn’t know my older sister had such an astute business instinct.”

      Laina stopped walking and studied his face. “Truly?”

      “Yes, truly.” Justin started walking again. “One of my basic requirements for a good investment is that the product or service be one that people either need or want. The waterworks is both.”

      “I see.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Let’s keep my business instincts a secret, shall we? I don’t want anything to tarnish my society-leader image. But I do want the money invested in the waterworks. And equal portions of it in the new railroad company and the new freight line I’ve heard you speak of.”

      “Again, very wise investments. Expansion to the west is increasing in leaps and bounds.” Justin laughed and shook his head as they climbed the steps to the back porch. “You amaze me, Laina. It shall be as you wish. I am yours to command.”

      “Thank you, dearheart. You take good care of me.”

      He shot her a sidelong look. “I thought so, but now I’m not so certain.”

      Laina gave him a pat on his cheek and walked through the door he held open for her.

      Chapter Six

      “Thank you, Carlson.” Laina took her driver’s hand and climbed from the chaise. “Come back for us in an hour.” She glanced over her shoulder at her maid as the driver climbed back to his seat and drove away. “This way, Annette.”

      “Stop, you rapscallion!” A portly man charged around the corner and lunged for a small boy, who whirled and darted across the walk in front of her. Laina jolted to a stop.

      A carriage whipped around the corner and raced down the street toward them.

      “No, little boy! Stop!”

      He paid no heed to her frantic cry. Looking over his shoulder at the man chasing him, the boy dashed into the road. The driver of the carriage hauled back on the reins, but it was too late.

      A scream ripped from Laina’s throat as the horse knocked the boy down and the carriage wheels, locked by the applied brake, skidded over him. She stood, frozen with horror, staring at the small inert body as the carriage came to a halt.

      “Good enough for the little thief!” The man who was chasing the boy turned and walked away.

      The callous words shocked Laina out of her paralysis. She ran into the street, her long skirts billowing out around her as she knelt beside the small figure. The boy wasn’t moving. Oh, God, don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let him be dead! Her hand trembled as she placed it on the filthy, tattered shirt covering the child’s narrow chest. His heart was beating! She released her held breath in a gust of relief.

      “What’s going on here, Jefferson! Did you strike down this woman?”

      Laina looked up as a scowling, richly garbed man climbed from the carriage and came to stand beside his driver. “I am not injured, sir. It is the boy your carriage struck down.” She looked back down at the child. She could see no signs of injury. Why didn’t he wake up?

      The man snorted. “Another thieving brat of the streets, no doubt. Get back to the carriage, Jefferson. We’re wasting time. I’ve a meeting to attend.” The man started around the horse pulling the carriage that had stopped behind his.

      He was going to leave? Anger surged through Laina. She shot to her feet. “Sir?” The man turned to look at her. She swallowed back the anger and forced a reasonable tone into her voice. “The boy doesn’t wake. He must be seriously hurt. Surely you do not intend to leave him lying here in the street?”