The maître d’ invited them to follow him to a table, and as soon as he led them through a doorway, the smells assaulted her, made her stomach gurgle. No. Not here. Her stomach seemed to settle as she walked, but she felt oddly woozy.
“Betty?”
She twisted at the sound of her name. “Patsy?” Surprised because she’d helped Patsy, as had Jane and Mother, fix up a cabin in the woods for them to honeymoon in for a few days. “What are you doing here?”
Her sister stood up, so did Lane, and they looked at each other, smiling. “We got hungry,” Patsy said.
Lane greeted James cordially as Patsy looked at her with an alarmed expression as Betty gripped the back of a chair.
“Lane, they can join us at our table, can’t they?” Patsy asked.
“Of course,” Lane said.
“Oh, well, uh—” James started.
“I insist,” Patsy said. “I haven’t seen Betty since the wedding.” She then grasped Betty’s hand. “We are going to visit the powder room. We’ll be right back.”
“You just got married yesterday,” Betty said as Patsy held her arm on the way to the powder room.
“I know, but you are as white as a sheet,” Patsy replied.
Once inside the elegant powder room, which had a waiting area complete with red-felt-embossed wallpaper and a matching velvet fainting couch, Betty sat down and hung her head between her legs.
“You look awful,” Patsy said. “Are you ill?”
Betty lifted her head, slowly. Thankful the spell had passed, she said, “Just a dizzy spell—I haven’t eaten much today.”
“Are you sure that’s it? Or is it how Father is insisting you marry James?”
“James isn’t as awful as we’d imagined. He’s...”
“Dutiful?”
“Yes.”
Patsy shook her head. “You’ve been dutiful your entire life—don’t you want more? Some fun and excitement.”
She’d had that, and it had gotten her... Pregnant, that was what it had gotten her, with a man she’d never see again. “No,” Betty said. “I like dutiful.”
“Betty—”
“Enough about me—tell me how you are,” Betty interrupted. She needed to eat and get home, where she could do some serious, serious thinking.
Patsy took hold of her hands. “I am so happy, Betty. So, so very happy. It’s amazing. Lane is so wonderful.” She giggled. “I know we’ve only been married a day, but even before then, he... I don’t even know how to say it. I can be who I want to be with him, not who someone else wants me to be and it’s so wonderful.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I want to be happy for you, too, and I don’t see that happening with James.”
James wouldn’t force her to be anyone; he wouldn’t force anyone to do anything. It was just not in him. “He’ll provide...” She nearly choked on the word. “Well. He has a nice house. He drove me past it the other day.”
“A nice house?” Patsy shook her head. “A house is just a house. Father has a nice house, too, but it didn’t make us happy.”
“It will make me happy,” Betty insisted.
“I know that’s what you always wanted. Your own home to keep neat and tidy, your own children to take care of and keep in line.” Patsy giggled slightly. “If not for you, Jane and I would have been caught sneaking out months ago. We would have been in trouble over and over again throughout the years.” Staring her straight in the eyes, Patsy asked, “But are you sure James is who you want to have those babies with?”
Betty couldn’t answer that. She knew the answer, but couldn’t say it. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“It’s about when you and Lane helped capture Vincent Burrows. The article in the newspaper didn’t mention the FBI agents by name.”
“No, they have a dangerous job, and it could be even more dangerous if their names were in the newspaper.”
Betty laid a hand on her stomach. “Was one named Henry? Henry Randall?”
Patsy’s face lit up. “Why? Do you know him? Have you seen him?”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
Patsy huffed out a breath. “I was hoping you’d say yes. He was shanghaied—”
“Shanghaied?” Betty’s heart leaped into her throat.
“Yes, almost a month ago and Lane and I are beginning to think the worst.”
Thankfully, Betty was already sitting down when she put the fainting couch to good use.
Henry stood in the shadows of a tall tree, where he’d easily be able to stop any and all women who climbed down the trellis tonight. He could have tossed a coin to decide if he should find Lane first, or Betty, but he hadn’t needed any help in making that decision. As soon as LeRoy had left, Henry changed out of the sailor’s uniform and drove here.
What he’d had to make a decision on was to knock on the front door and talk to William Dryer, or to talk to Betty first.
It had only taken him a moment to decide. The bedroom lights were on upstairs, which meant they hadn’t snuck out yet. So, he’d parked down the block and snuck into the backyard to wait.
He’d only been there a few minutes when the lights went out. First one and then the other. Next, a set of legs came out the bathroom window and started climbing down the trellis.
Jane. He recognized her as soon as she was completely out the window, which was where his gaze remained, watching for Betty.
She never emerged and Jane was already scampering across the yard, toward the tree he stood behind.
He waited until the exact moment and then stepped out and grabbed her arm.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, but removed it as the fear left her eyes.
“Well, if it isn’t the dancing Reuben.”
All three of the Dryer girls were pretty, but the younger two didn’t hold a candle to Betty. “Hello, Jane.”
She lifted a brow, but didn’t appear overly surprised that he knew her name. “Weeks of fun were wasted on looking for you.”
He released her
