Masquerade (54 page)

Edmund took a step closer and pulled their hands to the center until they were all that kept them apart. “I love you, Charlotte Gleason.”

“The name is Dora.”

An eyebrow rose. “So you’re fully back again?”

“I am back where I belong.”

“And your answer, Dora?”

“My answer is yes. Very much yes.”

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Then my prayers have indeed been answered. God has finished our story.”

Dora remembered their parting on the ship and something else Edmund had said. “Until fate allows,” she murmured.

He nodded, also remembering. “Until fate allows. Until now.”

“Until now.”

“May I kiss you, Dora?”

She was giddy. “Oh yes. Please.”

The kiss that sealed their promise made her … swoon.

Dora held the emerald necklace in her hands. Of all the beautiful things she’d been given since coming to the Tremaines’, this was the hardest to relinquish. Not for its monetary worth—which was beyond her grasp—but because it was a family heirloom given to her by Conrad.

She took it out of the box and held it around her neck once more. She’d never felt as glamorous as she had last night when she’d donned the extravagant dress that had been custom-made for her. Never so glamorous, yet …

She closed her eyes and remembered a more recent memory, when she and Edmund had looked into each other’s eyes and declared their love. That moment won the prize for making her feel more beautiful than any other moment in her life.

Her fingers touched the stones one more time before she carefully put the necklace back in the box and reread the note she’d written to Conrad:
Give these to a woman who deserves your love, for she is out there, Conrad. You are a man worthy of the world, and I’ll always remember you with the fondest regard. Many blessings, Dora.

She closed the jewel case, setting the note on top. Then she scanned her bedroom one last time. It was truly a palace within itself. She let her eyes move upward to the enormous golden chandelier that loomed over her bed and smiled as she remembered what Beatrice had first told her:
“If you have trouble sleeping with that chandelier looming above you, put a pillow over your face.”

Perhaps such lavishness was not meant for human consumption.

Perhaps none of the life of high society was. The extravagant dresses, the sumptuous meals, the decadent jewels. She didn’t begrudge the Tremaines their riches, for she knew they had earned them. Riches in themselves were not evil, it was the love of money that gained God’s ire. And she didn’t think the Tremaines loved it as much as many. Mrs. Tremaine—Gertie—still remembered her roots, and both Beatrice and Conrad longed for meaningful work and purpose. Perhaps with the encouragement she’d given them, they might find it.

She hoped so. For she would leave the mansion better for having known them. Wasn’t that the true test of an experience?

It was time to go. Edmund had told her he knew of a woman’s boardinghouse that could take her in until they married and found a place of their own.

A place of their own. The concept was unfathomable and beyond exciting. When she’d considered marrying Conrad, a “place of their own” had been involved, yet a sense of restrictive attachment and dependence had been tightly wound around the notion. But with Edmund there would be no ties to bind them except to each other.
They
were the roots from which a new tree would grow.

Her trunks were packed with the clothing she’d brought with her, and she wore her original traveling ensemble. She now realized it was a bit out of fashion, but knew Edmund wouldn’t mind.

She put on her bonnet and looked in the mirror to adjust the bow. Then she checked the dressing table one more time. Yes, she had the handkerchief … she’d made very sure of that.

There appeared to be nothing else of hers to take, so—

Dora did a double take, letting her gaze fall upon a lone bloom in a vase. It was the flower Conrad had plucked for her in Central Park. Although it had lost its vibrancy, its petals were still intact.

She removed it and stuck in into the brim of her bonnet.

Now she was ready to leave. To move on. To start again.

With dearest Edmund.

“Can’t we go any faster?”

Edmund put a hand upon Dora’s, calming her. “The driver is going as fast as he’s able.”

She knew that to be true. But once she’d decided to tell Lottie the coast was clear and she could be herself again, a minute was too long.

The carriage slowed, but Dora didn’t get excited. The stop-and-go traffic in New York had fooled her too many times already.

But this time the carriage stopped completely.

Edmund looked out the window. “This is it.”

With great difficulty, Dora waited until Edmund exited. If only she could burst into the house like a child with great news to share
. Lottie! Lottie! You’ll never believe what happened! The coast is clear!

Instead she took Edmund’s hand and stepped onto the pavement and up to the door. A sign said they could enter, but they rang the bell.

A young boy answered. “You’re pretty,” he said.

“Why, thank you. Is Lottie Hathaway here?”

He nodded, then turned and ran inside, leaving the door open for them.

“Miss Lottie! Someone’s to see you.”

“Don’t shout, Otto. I’m coming.”

Dora watched Lottie descend the front stairway holding a baby.

She stopped. And stared.

“Dora. You came. And Dr. Greenfield?”

Edmund tipped his hat, then removed it to enter the house. “Nice to see you again, Miss …”

Ah. The issue at hand fell between them. Was Lottie a Hathaway or a Gleason?

Dora’s eyes as well as her hand sought the baby. “Is this the boy you found?”

“His name is Fitzwilliam. He’s my son.”

Dora pulled her hand away from the blanket. “You’ve truly adopted him?”

“In all but paperwork.” Lottie nodded at the bevy of children running through the house. “With such a need, the process can be expedited.”

“He looks quite healthy,” Edmund said. “But for a cold?”

“A small one.” Lottie led them into the parlor. “Do come and sit down.” She shooed a few children away and sat with the baby in her lap. “So,” she said. “I suppose my outburst at the Tremaines’ was the talk of the party.”

“Not at all,” Dora said.

Lottie seemed disappointed. “Mr. Tremaine made no mention of it?”

“Not too much.”

“Just as well.” Fitzwilliam struggled against the blanket and she set him loose, letting him stand upon her legs. “You’re getting so strong, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Dora marveled at the sight before her. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said. “I didn’t know you liked children.”

“I didn’t either. It’s almost disconcerting the way they melt my heart.” She set the boy in the crook of her arm and let him play with her fingers. “So. I asked you to come and you did.”

“You wanted to have your place back. Your name.”

“Yes, well …”

Dora looked to Edmund for support. He nodded.
Just tell it.

“Conrad proposed and I accepted, but—”

Lottie’s eyebrows rose. “That was quick work of him.”

Dora raised her hands, stopping Lottie’s presumption. “But I’m not marrying him. I’m marrying Edmund.” Dora took his hand, feeling fortified by its strength. “Beyond that, the way is clear. The Tremaines know everything, know all about the masquerade. So you see, you can go to them now and claim your rightful place as Charlotte Gleason. It will be awkward, and they will demand some hard answers, but I’ve seen you charm harder folk than they.”

Dora expected Lottie to jump in, to make some Lottie-ish comment like
it’s about time
, or
finally
, or …

“That won’t be necessary.”

Dora wasn’t sure she understood. “What won’t be necessary?”

“I don’t want to claim my place. I don’t want to go to the Tremaines’ at all. I want to stay here. With Fitz.”

Dora was confused. “But you said you wanted to bring Fitz with you to the Tremaines’. You wanted to marry Conrad so Fitz would have a father.” In spite of her declaration, Dora felt odd casting Conrad as Lottie’s fiancé so quickly after breaking her own engagement to him. There was no guarantee he would find Lottie agreeable. And in all honesty, Dora wasn’t sure the two of them were at all suited to each other.

Lottie broke into Dora’s thoughts. “Fitz
will
have a father.”

A man came into the room from the hallway. He was strong in build with Nordic features. “Hello. I’m Anders Svensson, Lottie’s fiancé.”

Dora felt her head give a bow but could hardly summon a single word of response. Lottie was engaged?

Mr. Svensson moved to Edmund and the two shook hands. Then he took a seat on the settee next to Lottie, kissed her on the cheek, and drew Fitz into his arms, making the funny faces adults make when a baby is near.

Lottie let out a laugh. “I see I’ve managed to surprise you. Even shock you?”

Dora tried to grasp what she’d heard. “But … you came to the Tremaines’ expressly to talk to me, to tell me you wanted to end the charade. You wanted to marry Conrad. What happened between—?”

“Then and now?” Lottie slipped her hand through her fiancé’s arm. “Sven happened, and God and the moon and Nanny and wisdom and—”

A portly woman joined the group with a two-year-old on her hip. Dora recognized her immediately. “Miss Hathaway!”

“In the flesh. Nice to see you, Dora. My, my, I see you’ve grown into a lovely young lady.” She kissed Dora on the cheek, then turned her attention to Edmund. “So this is the doctor who met my girls on the ship?”

“Edmund Greenfield, at your service.”

“Actually, with all these wee ones around, I may take you up on that.” Once she was settled in a rocking chair, she set the child on the floor. “So now, I take it Lottie has told you about her choice?”

“A little.”

Nanny shook her head. “That’s our Lottie. She always gets what she wants.”

Lottie leaned her head against Sven’s shoulder. “Only this time, it took a little doing for me to know what that was.”

Dora marveled at the new Lottie, the soft, loving, giving Lottie who sat before her. It was as if she’d grown up in spite of all the hardships she’d endured.

Or because of all the hardships she’d endured?

And what about herself? Had Dora changed in such a dramatic manner? For the good, not the bad?

Nanny rocked up and back, murmuring to herself, “Yes indeedy. ‘A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.’ That’s the way of it. The good way of it.”

Yes indeedy.

“There’s so much to tell you,” Lottie said.

“There’s so much to tell
you
.”

Lottie started first. “I really want you to meet the Scarpellis. They saved me when my money and jewels were stolen, when I had nothing and no place to go.”

Dora slipped her hand through Edmund’s arm. “I met the mother and saw the little girl when Edmund and I were looking for you. How is the girl?”

“Fully recovered.” Lottie glanced at Dr. Greenfield. “Thanks to you.” She continued. “You met Lea and Sofia. But there’s a daughter a bit younger than us named Lucia. You’d like her. And guess what? I even learned a little Italian.” Lottie cleared her throat and spoke with a wonderful attempt at an accent,
“Grazie. Prego. Ciao.”

Dora laughed and offered some applause. “And I want to show you the Tremaines’ department store. It has five stories and there’s a Frenchwoman named Madame Foulard who helped me and—”

“I was there!”

“When?”

“I was trying to get to the Tremaines’, but the hack driver dropped me off on Broadway and—”

“Did you see the window displays? Conrad did those and—”

“I liked the one of the family taking a walk.”

“Did you notice they’re facing Central Park?”

“What’s Central Park?”

“Oh, Lottie, it’s a glorious place that reminds me of home. We’ll have to go.”

“And take Fitz.”

“There’s a lake and boats and lots of grass where he could run.” Dora took a breath, enjoying the banter back and forth across the cozy room.