An Unlikely Suitor (45 page)

“I . . .”

He pressed his hands against his legs and stood. “Because if you love him, I will find him and make him pay for breaking your heart. But if you are merely angry because he betrayed you, then I . . .”

Morrie moved close and ran his hand across her cheek, letting it rest there, cupping her face. Without thought she leaned against that hand, closed her eyes, wanting to linger there forev—

What am I doing?

She took a step away from him. His hand fell to his side.

“I see, then,” he said. “It’s the former.”

The stableboy brought in the tea, spilling much of it over the rim. “ ’Ere’s the tea, Haverty.”

“Set it on the table,” Morrie said, “so Miss Langdon can drink it at her leisure.” He retrieved his hat. “I must be off to defend our lady’s honor.” With a nod to Rowena, he left.

The boy set the tray on the table. “Sorry I spilled some a’ it. I’s not used to carrying fancy things.”

But Rowena didn’t listen, or see when he slipped out of the room. Only after he was gone did she realize she was totally alone.

“Morrie!”

She stumbled out of his room and toward the carriage, only to see it pulling away.

“Want me to run after it, miss?” the boy said from the stable doorway.

Yes. Please. Run after it and bring Morrie back to me so I can have his hand upon my face again, so I can linger there and not pull away and let what would have come next happen. . . .

“Miss?”

He was waiting for her answer. “No, no thank you.”

“Can I gets you anything else, then?”

She forced herself to look at him so he would be set free. “No. You may go.”

Rowena was left in the shadows of the drive. Behind her was Morrie’s empty room. In front of her was the house, which was empty in so many ways. . . .

And so she did something she’d never done before. She turned between them both and walked into the darkness.

Sofia ran down the street, the should-have-saids chasing her, pressing her home.
I should have told Lucy about Dante. Then she would’ve stopped seeing him or told Rowena or
 . . .

As soon as she’d witnessed the exchange between Edward and Lucy at the ball, regret had tightened its grip upon her like a corset laced too tight. And when she’d heard her sister gasp, she’d nearly fallen over from the surge of horror that had swept over Lucy and spilled past her to drown Sofia in its nasty wave. Sofia had always known the truth would come out, but had never let herself imagine the
hows
of it. Or the full devastation.

Lucy had run out, and Sofia had run too, to catch her, to help her, to . . .

To what? What could she do or say to make things better? There was no
better
. There was no happy ending as in the novels she loved. Two girls loved the same man.

This could not end well.

But as Sofia tried to leave, Mamma had come out of the ladies’ reception room and stopped her on the back stairs, asking too many questions. Sofia was proud of herself for not saying anything other than, “I have to go. No, nothing’s wrong. Lucy wasn’t feeling well and—”

But then Agatha had smiled smugly and countered, “It appears Lucy and Edward DeWitt have something going on between them. You shoulda seen the look on his face when he saw her. And him standing there with Miss Langdon—who seemed to know nothing about it whatsoever. If you ask me—”

“No one’s asking you!” Sofia hissed.

Agatha put a hand to her neck. “Well, then.”

Sofia couldn’t worry about her. It was Mamma who needed an explanation. “I’m going after her, Mamma. I’ll see she’s all right.”

“But what happened?”

Sofia hesitated, but only for a second. Better to share the truth than have Mamma hear Agatha’s version. She lowered her voice. “Dante is Edward. Rowena’s Edward.”

Mamma pulled back. “Did Lucy know?”

“No.” Sofia didn’t mention that
she
knew. “I have to go to her, Mamma.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and found her way out of the mansion.

To run. To run back to the Langdons’. She expected to find Lucy in her room, packing her things to escape, to travel back to New York.

Not that Sofia would stop her. If they’d never come to Newport Lucy would never have met Edward, and he and Rowena would probably be engaged by now, and—

I would never have met Hugh.

She couldn’t think about that now. And as she ran she let all selfish thoughts be ground into the sidewalk with her footfalls. Lucy was hurting. Her sister needed her. That was all that mat—

“Ooomph!”

Sofia was knocked to the ground from behind. She tried to break the fall with her hands, but the force was too strong and the side of her face hit the pavement.

Her attacker turned her over roughly, causing her head to knock against the ground. She tried to free her hands, pushing at him, scratching at him, but he was too strong and got hold of her wrists, pressing them against the sidewalk on either side of her head.

She tried to see his face, but it was too dark.

Then he straddled her. His weight pressed all breath from her lungs and she struggled not only against him, but against her corset and the panicked need to breathe.

“You thought you could hide, girlie? Not from me. Never from me.”

His voice! It was Bonwitter!

Anger gave her the power to breathe. “Get off me, you oaf! Help! Somebo—”

“No you don’t.” He pressed a hand over her mouth, but in the process set one of Sofia’s arms free.

She punched him, slapped him, clawed at his face.

He slapped her so hard her ear rang with it.

Then again.

And again.

Sofia felt herself slipping away. She knew she should fight, but there was no fight left. He moved off her, and she was so relieved to be able to breathe that she barely noticed him yanking at her skirts, pulling them up—

No, no, no, no, no
 . . .

But then he was gone. Pulled away? She heard a scuffle nearby. Fists finding flesh. And bone. Labored bursts of air. Groans.

And then silence.

Was it over? Was she dead?

Sofia tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. They were swollen shut and her body seemed separate from her will.

But then someone carefully lifted her into their arms. “I’ve got you. You’ll be all right now.”

The angel lifted her from this earth and flew her to a better place.

R
owena stood at the entrance to the Cliff Walk. She hadn’t been on its path since the accident. She and Morrie used to run its length, leaping over stones, even venturing down to the rocks below to play tag with the waves. They’d take turns standing on a boulder, letting the water lick their shoes. The spray of the sea would splash over them until their hair and clothes surrendered to the wetness.

And now, there were not only years as a barrier to venturing out upon the trail, but darkness. And her leg. And her costume with its embroidered train. And her silk shoes with their slippery soles.

The moon chose this moment to extract itself from the clouds. Its reflection upon the ocean was a twin blessing, a dual assurance that she could—and should—hazard to move away from the house and into the tolerance and peace of nature.

With a final sigh she nodded at her decision. “Forgive us, Lord. Help us.” The prayer was all encompassing, for there was so much that needed His assistance. Armed with the assurance she would not be alone, she turned onto the Cliff Walk.

Her first steps were tentative, but as she forced herself to surrender to the sky, the sea, the rocks, and the Divine, she gained confidence and strength.

At a place where the path widened, she paused and sat upon a wall. Without the need to gauge every step, she was free to fully take in the scene before her. On the horizon was the silhouette of a ship. Oh, to be at sea again and feel beholden to the boat and the waves for safety and movement. It was so different here, on land, as an observer rather than a participant.

And that’s what you are, Rowena. An observer. When are you going to fully participate?

The thought caused her to put a hand to her breast. She could feel her heart beat and knew its increased rhythm was caused by the inner question and not the physical exertion.

She used to be a participant in life. She’d danced and jumped and laughed and . . .

But with the accident she’d lost more than just physical participation. For years she’d retreated from fully partaking in other aspects of life. It had been too easy to let the concern and attention of her family become a shroud, letting her remain still and contained bodily, emotionally, intellectually, and even spiritually. She’d let them tell her what to do, what to feel, what to think, and what to believe.

Saving her brother’s life was the last act of free will she’d accomplished. She’d been a heroine—a heroine crippled by her act of courage. “God bless you, Rowena” had become a cozy couch for her to lie upon as the world—and her own life—continued on without her.

The Lord helps those who help themselves.

She knew the saying was only partially right. God could do anything and everything, but it only seemed right that He also expected some mortal effort and participation. Had God allowed Edward to fall in love with Lucy because Rowena had been complacent, watching others do the work of living for her?

“I have no one to blame but myself.”

Rowena heard movement on the path. She looked over to find Lucy there.

“And me. You have me to blame,” Lucy said. “But truly, I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

At the sight of her, Rowena stood and extended her arms to her friend. Lucy ran to her and the two girls embraced, both talking at once.

“I didn’t know either.”

“He never told me his name.”

“I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I’m so sorry this happened.”

As their sentiments found common ground, they stepped apart. Even in the moonlight Rowena could see that Lucy’s eyes were swollen from crying. She pulled her toward the wall to sit. “How are you?” she asked.

“How are you?”

They laughed at their shared concern. Finally Rowena asked, “Have you seen him?”

Lucy shook her head adamantly. “Have you?”

Rowena did the same. “He ran after you.”

“He did?”

The hope in Lucy’s eyes revealed much about her true feelings.

“So you love him?” Rowena asked.

Lucy was quick to shake her head. “Not really. And I never would have consented to marry him—”

Rowena put a hand to her mouth.

They were engaged? While I’ve been waiting for Edward to propose to me, he proposed to Lucy?

“It was nothing, Rowena. You’re the one who is to marry him.”

But then Rowena knew, with a flash as bright as lightning. . . . “We will never marry.”

“But that’s the plan. You need to marry—”

“My parents’ need cannot be my own. I need to marry someone who loves me. And Edward—in spite of his great effort to do so—never had those feelings for me.” She sought Lucy’s hand and squeezed it. “He loved you. He loves you. He was going to tell me as much at the ball, but then he saw you, and . . .” She paused to gain more courage. What was said next would change the future irrevocably. “His face lit up when he saw you.”

Lucy shook her head. “Not at all. He was appalled.”

“He was surprised. But then he turned to me to say he was sorry—and he ran after you. He didn’t stay to explain things to me. His only thoughts were of you. He loves
you
.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me who he was? If I would have known, I would have broken it off with him. I would never do anything to hurt you, Rowena.”

Rowena nodded, knowing it was true. “You have answered your own question. Edward didn’t tell you the truth because the consequences of that truth would be losing you. He loves you. He wants to marry you.” She swallowed hard. “Not me.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as if she were trying to see the truth as well as hear it. “Do you love him?”

Ah. It was time for Rowena to face yet another reality. “I loved the idea of him. I was in love with someone being in love with me. Which he’s not. And so . . .”

“You really don’t love him?”

Lucy was so hopeful, so eager to be affirmed, that Rowena knew she had to say it again. “No, I don’t love him.” She added to make it fully said, “He is yours to love.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around Rowena’s neck. “I’m so relieved.” She let go. “I need to find him. Talk to him.”

“As do I.” She stood. “Let’s go back to the house. I’m sure he’ll come looking for you there.”

Rowena took little consolation in the fact that she was no longer just an observer.

Full participation in life hurt.

Deeply.

Sofia felt herself being placed upon something soft.

“Send for a doctor!” yelled a voice. “And the police. And her mother.”

She heard other voices and movement around her, but they seemed to come from another place, another world. She sensed they had a connection to herself but couldn’t imagine how.

She moved her torso to get more comfortable but was greeted with a wave of pain. When she grimaced, the muscles on her face rebelled, revealing a new source of hurt. She moved her legs, which added a third. . . .

“Uhhhh.”

“She’s awake. Sofia? Sofia, can you hear me?”

Sofia opened an eye as much as she could—which wasn’t much, for it seemed to be swollen shut. But it was enough to see the speaker. “Dante?”

“Yes, yes, it’s Dante, it’s Edward. I’m Edward.”

This didn’t make any sense. Why would Edward DeWitt be sitting next to her? And where . . . ? “Where am I?”

“I brought you to the Langdons’. You’re in the drawing room. I’ve sent for a doctor.”

“Here, sir, let me.” Mrs. Donnelly took Edward’s place. She dipped a cloth in water and began to gently dab at Sofia’s face.

“Ouch!”

“I know, dear. You’ve got some pretty bad scrapes, your eyes are swollen, and that nose of yours . . .”

Sofia could taste the blood. And then she remembered falling forward, her face hitting the pavement. “Bonwitter!”

Edward came into view. “I’ve sent for the police. I’m hoping they’ll still find him where I left him.”

And then Sofia understood that Edward had been the one who’d saved her from . . . from . . .

The memory of Bonwitter lifting her skirts made Sofia cover her eyes. “If you hadn’t come . . .”

“Shush now, Sofia,” the housekeeper said. “You forget all that. You’re safe now.”

Rowena and Lucy came around the side of the house to the front entry, only to find a carriage in the drive and a policeman exiting the house with some speed.

He tipped his hat to the ladies as he mounted his horse.

“What’s wrong?” Rowena asked. “What’s happened?”

“There’s been an assault. Begging your pardon, miss, I need to catch up with the criminal.”

He galloped away, a man on a mission.

An assault? Who was hurt?

The girls ran inside, but both stopped short when they saw Edward talking to the butler.

“Edward?”

Timbrook slipped away, and Edward’s eyes skirted from Rowena to Lucy, then back again. “I . . .” He looked to Lucy. “I was out looking for you when I came upon a man assaulting your sister, and—”

“Where is she? Is she all right?”

“The doctor’s here, and we’ve taken her upstairs to a bedroom. She’ll be all right, but—”

Lucy ran up the stairs, leaving Rowena and Edward alone. Only then did Rowena see the bruises on his face and the rips in his costume.

“Come, sit down. Tell me everything.”

They moved into the drawing room and sat. Blood dripped from a cut on Edward’s cheek. “You need a doctor too.”

He pressed a handkerchief to it, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.” His eyes strayed upstairs.

“But Sofia?”

Edward seemed uncertain with his words. “She’ll recover, but I’m very glad I came along when I did.”

Rowena suffered a shiver. “Do they know who attacked her?”

“She knew him. ‘Bonwitter,’ she said.”

Rowena had heard that name before. “He caused them trouble in New York. He stole from the dress shop and Lucy was instrumental in getting him fired.”

“He’s obviously one angry man to come all this way for his revenge.”

Rowena felt bad for not taking more notice of Lucy’s story of him. Yet Lucy had never let on she felt in danger here.

She rose. “I should go to them.”

Edward stopped her with a hand. “In a minute. But first. Please.”

She sat back down, dreading his words, his explanation. To know the truth was one thing, to talk about it with the man who had caused the pain was another.

“I can say nothing but . . . I’m so sorry, Rowena.”

They were words she was glad to hear, yet words that caused their own damage.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “For how could you fall in love with . . . with . . .”

“Two women?”

This shocked her. “You loved me?”

He started to reach for her hand, then withdrew the gesture. “I love you, Rowena. I care deeply for you.”

He looked down and Rowena prodded him to finish his thought. “But . . . ?”

“But I’m
in
love with Lucy.”

Rowena had never considered there to be a difference in love, but somehow she understood. Yet the understanding did not negate the pain.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.

“But you did.”

He nodded. “But I did.”

She remembered something Sofia had told her. “Earlier today Sofia shared something with me that her father used to say: Love rules without rules. I guess that’s true.”