Victoria sat in the bouncing coach, concentrating on the excitement of what lay ahead of her and ignoring the pain she was feeling at leaving Nicholas. It's silly she told herself. I don't have any feelings for him. Yes, being with him was thrilling and exhilarating, but that's all. I'll miss his company, I'm sure, but I'll make plenty of friends to fill that void and eventually I'll meet a man suitable to marry. She hadn't been lying when she said she would never forget him, but he'll be a pleasant memory, nothing more, she convinced herself.
A month later, Nicholas sat in the office of his new gambling house and thought over something Victoria had said to him that last day. 'Who will stay in your hotels? Who will visit your gambling houses?' He hadn't thought about there being an end to the gold rush, but it was something he had to keep in mind. Perhaps the ambitious expansions he had been planning should be re-thought. Perhaps he should keep his operations as they were and just start saving the money he was making. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about what to do with that money.
He was going crazy with missing her. He had tried to get back into his games of seduction, but none of the women appealed to him in the slightest. Their fluttering eyelashes and shy gasps at his suggestive comments all seemed so shallow and meaningless that he lost interest in them quickly. And every night he awoke from restless dreams of ebony hair and dark blue eyes.
Another month later, he was in the office of the grand hotel, lost in memories of Victoria, when the front desk clerk eagerly whispered to him. "Sir, she's here!"
"Hmmm? Who?" he asked, slightly confused as to who the clerk could be excited about.
"Mrs. Worthington, sir. You remember, the very shapely blond?" he reminded him suggestively.
"Ah yes, Mrs. Worthington," he said without much interest, watching her across the lobby. She certainly is shapely, he thought. Like Victoria, but not as tall. Maybe the only way to get her out of my system is to bring another woman in, he thought. With a sly smile, he walked out from behind the counter and approached the woman.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Worthington. How are you today?" he asked warmly.
"I'm fine, thank you very much, Mr. Andrews," she replied, smiling at him, her brown eyes twinkling. "And yourself?" she asked.
"Well, now that you're here, I'm very much improved," he said in a low, suggestive voice. Encouraged by the pink flush in her cheeks, he continued. "You must call me Nicholas, Mr. Andrews sounds too stuffy and formal. I think we're good enough friends that we can be on a first name basis, don't you agree?"
His invitation to switch to the more intimate use of first names had the desired effect, as she giggled and replied, "Of course, Nicholas. And you must call me Claire."
"Claire," he repeated. "I must say, you look beautiful in that gown."
The pink in her cheeks deepening, she replied, "It's just a plain day dress."
"You turn a plain dress into something magnificent when you wear it," he whispered to her, staring into her eyes.
She only stared back, entranced by his gaze.
"Would you care to have dinner with me tonight, at my home?" he asked softly.
"Yes, I would love to," she replied breathlessly.
"Would seven o'clock be suitable? I'll send my carriage for you," he said, his voice still low. Taking up her hand and placing a lingering kiss on it, he said, "I'll look forward to it immensely."
As he returned to the office, the clerk eagerly asked him, "How long do you think this one will take, sir?"
Without much interest, Nicholas replied, "I'll have her tonight."
Impressed, but knowing not to press the matter, the clerk returned to his duties.
Nicholas had almost forgotten that she was coming over that night, until he heard the carriage pull up at a few minutes past seven o'clock. He looked through the curtains and saw her alight from the cab. From the window of his upper floor office, he had a nice view of her neckline and it was quite low. He couldn't help the wicked smile that curled his lips.
He stood in the shadows outside the drawing room, watching her. She was very nervous, biting her lip and playing with the cords of her purse. He recalled how he had stood here and watched Victoria nervously waiting for him all those months ago. He shook the memory from his mind and went in to greet his guest.
He and Claire enjoyed a lavish dinner, where he plied her with wine and drank a bit more than usual himself. Later, back in the drawing room, he whispered suggestive compliments in her ear, tickled her with fluttery caresses and she was soon his. He pressed his lips to hers and she melted against him. Driving comparisons to Victoria from his mind, he carried her upstairs. Carefully choosing one of the anonymous bedrooms and not his own, nor the one Victoria had used, he carried her inside and closed the door.
Later that night as she lay sleeping, he stood by the window staring out at the star filled sky. He had been rough with her, taking his every pleasure with her body but he was left unfulfilled. He didn't even want to sleep in the same bed with her.
Turning from the window, he walked to the edge of the bed. He gazed down at her silky blond hair, spread across the pillow, her pretty face and luscious body, barely covered by the thin sheet. He should be consumed with desire but only felt revulsion. Was this how Victoria felt after their times together? Is that why she was always gone in the morning? It tore him apart to think that she felt about him the way he felt about the woman lying before him now.
No, she would never have returned to his bed if that were the case. He knew that he would most likely never even speak to this woman again, let alone invite her back into his bed. He quietly left the room and slid into his own bed after locking his bedroom door.
He left early the next morning, before Claire woke. He left instructions with his staff to treat her cordially, serve her breakfast if she wished and then get her out of there.
He worked out of the less grand hotel that day, the one where Victoria had stayed. He hardly ever went there anymore, because it reminded him too much of her. He had to face the fact that she was gone, that he had lost her. He had curbed his plans of expansion and was now saving his money. It surprised him how wealthy he really was. He didn't know what to do with it, though. He would figure that out later. For now, he was content to ride the gold rush as long as he could.
Victoria was amazed at how the prices of things dropped the further she got from San Francisco. At first she was worried that Nicholas' money wouldn't last her very long, but by the time she reached Oregon City, the six hundred dollars she had left was a fortune. She immediately found a boarding house to stay in. She didn't want to stay in another hotel again.
She quickly found work in a bakery and fell into a quiet routine. A routine that sometimes felt too restrictive. She found she sometimes craved excitement, she had grown so accustomed to bustling activity of San Francisco that she now missed it. The one thing she refused to admit she missed was Nicholas. The dreams she had of him, recounting their most passionate moments together, didn't mean a thing. However, she found herself constantly driving thoughts of him from her mind. I need someone new, she thought.
She was in the mercantile, wandering the aisles, hoping some shopping would lift her spirits. Miserably bored and restless, she perched bonnets on her head, and tried on gloves. She flipped through the dress catalog, but nothing caught her eye. Meandering over to the perfume counter, her eyes scanned the whimsical names of the fragrances.
She picked up a bottle named Forest Green and held it to her nose. Its warm, dark, woodsy aroma sent a shiver down her spine. Nicholas, her thoughts sighed. She inhaled again, losing herself in the scent. As it dissipated, she came out of her trance, and shook her head as if to clear it.
She put the bottle down and picked up another called Amber Rose. She held it to her nose and found she quite liked it. She tried several others, but came back to Amber Rose. She was smelling it again when she suddenly felt eyes on her. She looked up just as a man averted his gaze. He seemed to be intently inspecting the prices of bags of feed. Her eyes quickly skimmed over him. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit and did not appear to be a farmer. He was taller than she, with dark hair and eyes, and a slender yet strong build.
