The Husband List (16 page)

“You’re looking tired, Flora,” he said.

“That’s a fine compliment. Since I invited you in at this late hour, the least you could do is offer some hollow flattery.”

He laughed. “Is there any other kind of flattery but hollow?”

She wanted to smile but didn’t. “How did you know I was here?”

He looked down before answering. “I saw an article in the
Times
about who was summering in Newport.”

“Really? I don’t know whether to be more astounded that you were reading the social news or that I was mentioned.”

“I was on a train,” he said as though that explained everything.

She raised her brows in response.

He stretched his long legs in front of him, no doubt trying to find a way to be comfortable in the short chair. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s passing.”

Flora ignored the sting of tears behind her eyes. When on stage, she’d always been able to cry at will. Now she could not seem to stop.

“I appreciated the note,” she said.

“It was nothing. I know how deeply a loss like that can cut into a soul.”

She nodded. “Yes. But I promised Clem I would pick up my life, and I will.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said. Coming from him, the words sounded a little sad.

Some people never fought free of the grief. Patrick had been one, though she hadn’t understood at the time. All she’d known was that she’d loved him, but he hadn’t been able to love her back. At least, not in the way she’d wanted him to, with vows and babies and forever together.

“In time, I’ll be better,” she replied. “It has been a year since I lost him, but sometimes it still feels like yesterday. Right now, I’m focusing on each day … each new adventure.” Because, really, she had nothing else.

“Well, then, you have a plan, and that’s half the battle.”

“I suppose,” she said.

They sat quietly for a moment. Then Patrick spoke again.

“I want you back in my life, Flora,” he said in a rush. “Not as a lover, mind you, because I’ve no right to put a claim on your heart after all we’ve been though. But I miss you. I miss the laughter and the teasing and the knowing that if I’m being a bullheaded fool, you’ll be the first to tell me. You can chase me out of here with that fire poker over there,” he said, pointing to the fireplace set. “You likely should, but I knew that if I didn’t ask now, I’d lose the courage to ask at all.”

Never had he come to her hat in hand … well, actually hatless … like he was at this moment. Flora was touched.

“You, lose courage?” She shook her head. “Patrick Culhane, you are the boldest man I’ve ever met.”

“Aye, and in some ways the thickest, too, or I wouldn’t be here today trying to rebuild what I ruined.”

She smiled. “I won’t deny that.”

“So then, will you do me the honor of being my friend?”

Flora knew the answer, even if she didn’t feel completely comfortable letting him into her life again.

“I don’t think either of us are so rich that we can afford to lose a friend,” she said.

A smile slowly spread across his face. “You always were the smartest woman I knew.”

And in some ways the thickest, too, Flora thought. But a life with both Culhanes far surpassed a life without them.

ELEVEN

Da must be having a regular Irish hooley, Jack thought. The coachman had just pulled up in front of the Touro Park house, and all the lights on the ground floor were ablaze. Jack retrieved his top hat from beneath the bench where he’d sent it earlier, brushed it off, and set it back on his head. If there were guests, he couldn’t enter the house looking as tired and frustrated as he felt.

Wilton opened the front door before Jack had even made it to the steps.

“I take it my father has company,” Jack said as he entered.

“No, sir,” the butler replied, closing the door after Jack. “Your father is not in residence.”

“Then you have guests?”

“Hardly, sir. Mr. Edward Maxwell has guests. At the moment, they are in the billiards room.”

Jack started to ask the unflappable Wilton another question but decided to go to the source. He handed the butler his hat and headed to Eddie.

“It’s about time you made it home,” his friend said when Jack came into the billiards room.

Eddie, who was in his shirtsleeves, looked to be losing a game to Charles Vandermeulen. Robert Conable and Harold VanAndel, two more of their customary New York set, were watching. Jack gave all four a hello but kept an eye on Eddie.

“I had Wilton set me up with a room,” Eddie said without looking away from the shot he’d begun to line up. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Charles came over to shake Jack’s hand. “I’d have had him stay with us when he arrived, but Harriet has the house packed with girls. Wedding plans or some such other female thing. The giggling is enough to kill a man. We all decamped for the night. If you don’t mind putting the rest of us up here until her blasted picnic tomorrow, we’d be obliged.”

Jack hoped it wasn’t his wedding to Harriet being planned because that was a nonevent.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he told Charles.

“Grand, old man! You and I might as well get used to each other’s company, if you know what I mean,” Charles said.

Jack made a noncommittal noise in response.

“Which brings to mind, Harriet is worried that you haven’t said whether you’ll be at tomorrow’s picnic. It will be the usual lot … Harriet, the Maxwell sisters, some of the Vanderbilt girls, and an Astor or two.… She asked me to inquire if I saw you.”

Da’s belief that Jack needed a secretary was beginning to ring true.

“I’ve been away on new business and have to spend tomorrow catching up on other matters,” Jack said. “Please give your sister my apology for the late response and also my regrets.”

Charles’s demeanor drooped. “You’re sure you can’t appear for a short while? She has four girls to every man as it is. Take some pity on the rest of us and save us from being swarmed.”

Jack smiled at the image of the men smothered in heaps of lace and parasols and ridiculously large-brimmed hats. “Tell you what, I’ll try to drop in.”

“You have my gratitude,” Charles said.

“Vandermeulen, your shot,” Eddie said from across the room.

Charles grinned just as a robber baron’s son should at the scent of fresh money. “Time to finish him off.”

Jack looked to Wilton, who had taken care of Jack’s hat and now stood next to the doorway. “Wilton, three more rooms, please.”

“Already done, sir. And I shall retire to my quarters, unless you have further need of me.”

Jack thanked the butler and sent him on his way. Eddie joined Jack while the other men took bets on how long it would take Charles to empty Eddie’s pockets.

“What happened at Villa Blanca?” Jack asked Eddie.

“My mother didn’t stick to her vow to stay in her room. You were just out the door when she appeared. You’d think I’d told her I had sent Caroline off with the Devil when I said you’d be bringing her home. She filled my ears with lectures about young ladies going about unaccompanied with men.” Eddie shook his head. “Unbelievable. There we were, talking about
you
 … not the local Lothario. You’ve known Caroline since she was small enough to climb trees. You’re practically her brother.”

Or not, Jack thought.

“I pointed out to Mother how close to family you are, and she had one of her fits,” Eddie said. “Once she was settled, I decided that Mildred Longhorne’s house is no place for a man.”

“What about Rosemeade? It’s sitting vacant,” Jack suggested. He didn’t want to be inhospitable, but for a group of people with damn big houses, why did they have to be under each other’s feet?

“That was my first stop,” Eddie said. “Mother has guards posted. She has locked down the cottage until the big costume ball for the Englishman next Tuesday. Apparently, she wishes no one to see the improvements to the house or property before then … not even her own son. The guards are so cowed that I could have told them I was the Lord Almighty and they still wouldn’t have let me in. So on I went to Charles’s, and here we are.”

“There’s a ball for Bremerton?” Jack asked. He was surprised Caroline hadn’t mentioned it to him. But then again, their most recent encounters had been brief and not taken up with talk.

“The invitation isn’t that direct, but Mother’s intent in having a party is clear. Check that stack of correspondence on the desk in the library. Your invitation has to be there. And I’ve already responded to my mother for you, of course.”

“I should just hire you,” Jack said.

Eddie looked a tad alarmed. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud,” Jack replied. “How long are you planning to stay here?”

“I don’t know for certain. When Father gets here, I suppose I could always stay aboard the
Conqueror
if we’re bumping elbows too much. But I’d much rather stay ashore.” In a lower voice, he added, “I don’t like it getting around, but I have no love for the sea. The thought of nights spent bobbing in that boat … well, let’s just say I’d prefer the worst room at the seediest tourist hotel in town.”

A ship the size of the
Conqueror
would barely sway in protected Newport Harbor, but Jack could appreciate a healthy dislike of something. He was feeling the same way about Harriet’s picnic.

“I’m sure we’ll work it out here,” Jack said.

“I knew I could count on you,” Eddie said while clapping him on the shoulder. “Are you ready for some billiards?”

“Sorry, but I’m ready for some sleep.”

“What? The night is young. It’s nowhere near dawn!”

Eddie took his professional life of leisure very seriously.

“And I’m the only one in this room who has spent the past two days shoveling manure,” Jack said. “I’ll thrash you at billiards another time.”

“Don’t be so sure. I’m just setting Charles and the rest of them up for the big kill,” Eddie said.

“Enjoy,” Jack replied.

He eyed the door, making ready to escape. Fate wasn’t being kind, though. Da walked in, looking uncharacteristically dapper. And
dapper
wasn’t a word Jack ever thought would come to mind about Da. His suit was brand-new and his shirt so white that it nearly blinded.

“To think I left an empty house not so long ago. What’s afoot here?” Da asked the men.

He picked up Charles’s cut crystal glass and sniffed the contents. “I need to be naming this place
Bhaile Uisce Bheatha
.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Robert Conable asked.

“And here you’re so proud of your fine college educations,” Da said. “That means House of Whiskey in Irish. Contrary to my son’s beer-loving ways, ’tis whiskey that’s the water of life. Speaking of which, did you save any for me?”

“Of course, sir,” Robert Conable said before speedily pouring Da a glass and bringing it over.

Da toasted Robert.
“Slainte.”

The party was in good hands. Jack made another break for freedom.

“Not so fast, son,” Da said. “I’ll be having a word with you. Come over this way, if you would.”

Jack followed Da to the far corner of the walnut-paneled room. Eddie and the other guests were either too polite or too occupied with wagering to pay mind to them. Jack would guess it was the latter.

“Is there any reason you didn’t think of telling me that Flora is back from San Francisco and staying in this very town?” Da asked.

“That’s Flora’s choice to make, and not mine,” Jack replied. “She didn’t contact me, either. I crossed paths with her on the trip from the city.”

“Crossed paths or engraved announcements, it doesn’t matter. You’re my son, and you should have told me.”

Da hadn’t said that in a gruff-but-kindly sort of way; he was annoyed. Jack wasn’t feeling too happy, either.

“How was I to know it mattered to you?” Jack asked.

“Of course it would matter! A man would have to be an
eejit
to think it wouldn’t,” Da said.

“Or he’d have to be your son,” Jack replied. “I had barely reached my teen years when Flora was gone. And I’ve kept out of your private affairs since I’ve been grown. Up until a few weeks ago, you kept out of mine, too. I liked that arrangement.”

“Well, I’m liking this new arrangement,” Da replied. “At least until I have my questions answered. Flora said you were at her place tonight. You’re not courting her, are you?”

“Hell, no.” Jack was floored by the notion, even though Flora was closer to his age than Da’s.

“She’s a fine woman. No need to get your hackles up.” Da took a sip of his whiskey. “If you weren’t courting Flora, what were you doing there in the dead of the night?”

“Collecting Caroline Maxwell.”

His father laughed. “Collecting her? Is the girl not collected enough already?”

“She has her moments,” Jack said. Her greater talent lay, however, in leaving him uncollected. At the thought of what had taken place in the carriage tonight, his smile was both involuntary and completely obvious.

“Ah, now I see the way of it,” Da said.

“I’m sure you think you do,” Jack said. “But this evening’s inquisition is at an end.”

Da waved him off. “I’d rather play billiards and make myself some money, anyway.”

Da was nearly unbeatable, so Jack escaped while he could. As he was trotting upstairs to the peace of his room, he noted an extra weight inside his coat pocket. He absently patted it and found the bulky shape of Caroline’s pearls. He’d forgotten he had them. Jack shook his head at this slipup. Tomorrow’s work would have to wait. Harriet’s picnic had just risen to the top of his list.

*   *   *

BY THE crack of dawn on Wednesday morning, the Blue Seaside Salon had officially taken on every aspect of a war room. All the furniture had been pushed to the room’s fringes, except for the library table anchoring the center of the room. A folding screen had been brought in for modest changes of clothing. Aides de camp—in this case, Annie, Berta, and a parade of other servants—bustled in and out, delivering notes and food. Pomeroy stood guard from his pillow. All that was missing was a cot on which to sleep, and Mama could move in for the duration.