An Unlikely Suitor (37 page)

Rowena slipped her arms into the lavender satin dressing sacque that Lucy held for her. She pulled the lace-edged neck ties to the front and made a knot. “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?”

“Extremely,” Lucy said.

That wasn’t enough of an answer. For Rowena had spotted Lucy running back to the house across the lawn at half past six. Where had she been? Who had she been with?

There was only one answer. Dante.

Rowena sat on the bench in front of the dressing table so Lucy could do her hair. Being seated put her in an advantageous position to watch Lucy’s face in the mirror.

“What are your plans today?” she asked.

Lucy pulled the brush through Rowena’s hair, making her head move up and back with the gentle tugging. “I’ll be working on the costumes,” she said. “It’s been four days since the fitting. We’ll need another fitting tomorrow.”

Still nothing.

The thought of Lucy out in the early dawn hours with a man . . . She didn’t want Lucy to get in trouble that way. Lucy seemed to be a good girl, and yet, who really knew? And what girl was ever wholly immune from temptation?

Rowena. Not that she’d ever been given the chance to test herself.

She noticed Lucy smiling—smiling at nothing at all. Something had happened.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked.

Lucy seemed surprised at the question and checked her reflection in the mirror before relinquishing the smile. “As you said it’s a beautiful day.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

Lucy twisted Rowena’s hair into a high bun and arranged curls around the crown, fastening them with hairpins. “I did see a comical scene this morning.”

“Where was that?”

“Right out in the hall here. It seems your brother was just returning from an all-night card game and got caught by your father.”

That’s all?

“Does your brother make a habit of coming in so late?”

“My brother makes a habit of doing whatever he pleases without care for the wishes of the family or propriety.” She hadn’t meant to be so brusque, but her disappointment in having the conversation turn toward her brother took hold. “If it weren’t for my brother, I could marry anyone I wanted.”

Lucy’s eyebrow rose. “Really? How so?”

Rowena hadn’t meant to open the door, but the gateway to her frustrations had been unlocked and they demanded release. “As the heir, my brother should be concerned with marrying well. But so far he’s only succeeded in causing shame to our family name by his carousing and wild ways. No respectable girl will have him. And so it’s up to me to marry Edward to save our family from full ruination. After all, I’ve already caused shame to my family by my injury, by becoming less-than, so I owe them.”

“I’m sure your family doesn’t think of you as less-than. And your brother’s actions shouldn’t affect
your
future happiness. That’s not fair.”

Rowena shrugged and held out a palm full of hairpins for Lucy’s use. “In truth I’m not who people think I am.” It was a fact that both calmed and irked her, and as soon as she said it, she wished the words back. She shook her head as if that physical act could negate the moment before.

“Who are you, then?”

Rowena turned the tables. “Who do you think I am?”

“I think you are a good woman who is loyal to a fault. I think you would do anything for anybody, and—”

Rowena slammed her free hand upon the table. “No, no, no! That’s not me at all!” When Lucy took a step back she added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so adamant.” Rowena pressed her fingers to the space between her eyes. She should never have brought it up. She forced herself to smile. “Never mind me. I simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You can go now. I can finish up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Lucy deposited the rest of the hairpins into Rowena’s hand and left the room.

As soon as silence seeped into every corner, Rowena turned her hand upside down and let the pins fall to the carpet. She held her open hand in the air a moment, marveling at how her act had caused no sound at all. It was as if she’d done nothing.

The fuller implications rushed forward to crush her. Nothing she did mattered or had an effect. She had the odd notion that if she stood and jumped up and down until the crystals in the chandelier bobbled, no one would hear. No one would come running to see what was the matter.

Her hand found its mate in her lap and she began to cry.

Why was she stuck playing this awful, meaningless part? Why didn’t her image match the woman she felt herself to be? Should they match? Or was there some advantage to being unfathomable?

Yet . . . might she be considered mysterious?

No. That wasn’t it at all. For to be mysterious people had to wonder about her; she needed to possess an aura of something hidden, or better yet, something to be discovered. Everyone felt they knew exactly who she was and what she believed, and could rest assured they could spend their curiosity dissecting someone else’s personality.

She gathered a handkerchief from the table and dabbed her tears away. What good were tears, anyway? The world saw her as a good girl: polite, trustworthy, dependable, loyal, and true. Traits most people would die for.

Then why did the listing cause her pain? Why did she want to rush to the banister and scream for all to hear,
“You don’t know me!”

She looked at her reflection and repeated the phrase for her ears alone.

“You don’t know me.”

Being polite, her reflection nodded affirmation.

Hugh came in to breakfast after the serving began. He kissed their mother on the cheek. “ ’Morning, Mother.”

“One more minute and I would be forced to consider you tardy.” She looked at her husband. “Although I did hear you’ve earned that designation in other ways this morning.”

Rowena’s brother took a seat and grabbed a scone from the tray in the same movement. He took a piece of bacon, then added, “The bacon being cold is my full punishment for any and all transgressions of time.”

“Oh you,” Mother said with a shake of her head.

Rowena looked to her father, waiting for his reaction. “So, wife. What do you have planned for the day?”

Rowena was appalled. That was it? Once again Hugh caused offense but got off with nary a word?

“Perhaps I should be tardy too,” she said as she poured cream into her coffee.

“Pardon?” Father said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mother said.

Hugh winked at her from across the table. “You couldn’t do it, sister dear. It’s not in your nature.”

And that was that. The conversation moved on. The very notion that Rowena would break a rule or offend was discounted as impossible.

She fumed—but of course kept silent.

After all, it was the proper thing to do.

“Come now, Rowena. Try the bicycle. It’s not that difficult.”

Rowena looked aghast at her friend. “I can’t, Millicent. You know that.”

“You won’t have a problem. Trust me.”

As Rowena looked around she spotted acquaintances riding sidesaddle on horseback, another two carrying rackets for tennis, and one other accompanying Millicent on her own bicycle. The latter two were wearing absurd-looking bloomers, cuffed at the calf. The outfits looked ridiculous coupled with a ruffled shirt and a short jacket with voluminous sleeves. It was as though a perfectly presentable outing ensemble had been bastardized into a bizarre costume more fitting for a theatrical escapade than proper society.

The recreational options for young females had expanded dramatically the past few years, with golf, swimming, fencing, and yachting also the rage. Rowena was in the minority who chose to abstain. Although she felt she could do these things in spite of her infirmity, being even the least bit unsure caused her to decline the experience rather than risk possible humiliation. Besides, although bicycling was acceptable, Rowena remembered when women had first started participating in the sport they were called . . . whores. The connotation was too awful to contemplate or risk.

Millicent rolled her eyes at Rowena’s rejection, said something to the other woman on the bicycle, and walked alongside her own machine, giving Rowena company as the other girl rode off alone.

“Aren’t you bored to death spending your afternoons strolling about?” she asked.

“Not when I have good company.”

Millicent did a double take. “I assume that’s a compliment.”

“Of course.” Though actually . . . Millicent was not Rowena’s favorite person. She was far too brusque and refused to talk of anything beyond rumor-filled tittle-tattle.

They walked to the corner and waited for some carriages to pass before proceeding. “I heard your brother was down on the docks early this morning, dressed like a ragamuffin.”

That didn’t make sense. Hadn’t Hugh been playing cards somewhere until late? “I’m sure what you heard was exaggerated.”

“I don’t think so. Audrey’s cousin was on their yacht anchored nearby and saw him talking to harbor workers.”

Harbor workers? “Perhaps he was up early making some repairs to his sailboat. He loves that boat.”

Millicent shrugged. “At dawn? Of course knowing your brother, he’d probably been up all night. Maybe he was paying the workmen to cover up some mischief he’d done.”

Rowena hated to admit she’d considered the same thing. And yet, to have Hugh’s reputation besmirched by others, in gossip . . .

She came to his defense. “I saw him at breakfast with my parents and he was happy and jovial.”

“Of course he was. Your brother seems to thrive on being happy
with
trouble. It’s quite a feat that he can keep up a good front to your parents. Though parents
are
always the last to know.”

Rowena wondered what else her parents didn’t know. “I love him dearly, but I do wish he’d behave himself.”

“So does Sarah Billings. Just this morning she intimated she will have nothing more to do with Hugh—that her parents will order her to have nothing more to do with him—unless he changes his wild ways. The whole town has heard about that maid of yours. No girl will want him, Rowena. No respectable girl, at least.”

Which left the burden of marrying well on Rowena’s shoulders. It was not new news.

As if reading her mind, Millicent asked, “Where is your Edward today? Why isn’t he strolling with you?”

“We don’t see each other every day,” Rowena said.

It was Millicent’s turn to stop walking. “Whyever not? If he were my intended, I’d demand his full attention. You’re much too compliant, Rowena. You need to insist on your due.”

Tears filled Rowena’s eyes, which caused Millicent to lean the bicycle against her hip and quickly retrieve a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Now, now. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Rowena turned toward her friend, trying to assemble a modicum of privacy from people walking by. She dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know how to insist on my due. I don’t know how to make Edward want to see me or spend time with me. It seems every time we’re together we’re with a crowd. I’ve yet to spend time alone with him.”

“Not any time?”

“A few minutes at most.”

“Oh, dear . . . that’s not good, Rowena. When my sister was engaged, my parents had to all but force them apart.”

Rowena blew her nose. “I have no such problem.”

Millicent leaned close. “Then why are you even considering marriage?”

Not one of her friends had ever asked the question. “I have to marry him,” she said.

“But why?”

When pressed, Rowena answered, “Our parents want it so.”

“But why?”

Millicent could be very pushy, a trait that vacillated between a flaw and a good attribute. “Business reasons, I guess.”

Thankfully, Millicent moved on to a different question. “Surely your father’s business doesn’t need the DeWitt money to keep it going. Or perhaps it’s vice versa?”

Rowena could only offer a shrug. She wasn’t privy to details about her family’s business, and certainly knew less about the DeWitts’. She only knew what had been implied, that this marriage would benefit both families.

Millicent finally provided her own answer. “I suppose you have to marry well because Hugh won’t.”