The Husband List (29 page)

He tossed his hat onto an oak side table and said, “No thank you, but you may offer me a second chance.”

Flora smiled in spite of herself.

Patrick grinned. “I take it that was polite enough for you?”

“It was better than telling me to get ready for a ceremony in front of the ship’s captain because we’re growing older and have no time to waste. You, I must point out, are growing older faster than I. The clock isn’t winding down on me.”

He laughed. “Cruel woman.”

“Only when it’s deserved,” she replied, but softened the words with a smile.

“I’ve come to ask you to accompany me to dinner on Saturday night at the Savoy’s River Restaurant,” Patrick said.

“You can’t possibly have a reservation for this Saturday,” Flora replied. “With Chef Escoffier’s fame, it takes months to obtain a table.”

He smiled. “Would I be lying about something that will prove itself come Saturday?”

“No,” she admitted grudgingly.

“So will you or won’t you?”

“I will,” Flora said. “After all, who could pass up … Escoffier?”

Patrick grinned. “I know my strengths, and cooking’s not among them. But there are things I do well, you might be remembering.” He walked to her, took her hand, and kissed it. “I’m sure if you do some thinking between now and Saturday, you’ll remember what one of them is.”

With that, he was gone.

Flora stood where he’d left her, remembering every single, last thing that Patrick Culhane did to perfection.

TWENTY

Caroline had worn diamonds on Tuesday night, rubies on Wednesday, pearls on Thursday, and sapphires on Friday. She had danced when told to dance, spoken only on command, and shared no opinion that differed from Bremerton’s. Yet according to the Englishman, she was still falling short of what he expected of his future wife. Peek had said that the men in Bremerton’s family outlived their women. Caroline was certain this was because they drowned them in demands. But she came from hardy American stock, and she fully intended to have a future that would not include being told what to wear every day of the week.

Saturday evening had arrived, and Annie was in Caroline’s bedroom helping her into a pale green Worth ball gown with iridescent beading that would compliment tonight’s demanded emeralds. While Annie worked, Caroline shared information to pass on to Jack through O’Toole, who had become their conduit.

“Also tell him that Bremerton’s late wife could have been French,” Caroline said. “He told someone last night that he’d been touring the French countryside when his brother passed away, and that word didn’t get to him in time for him to attend the funeral.” She looked over her shoulder at Annie. “The man has an excuse for everything.”

“Except for the way he treats you,” Annie said as she gave the dress one last tug. A few threads snapped somewhere in the layers of fabric Caroline wore, but the gown sat smoothly, when it had refused to cooperate before. Annie came around to face Caroline. The maid stood, hands on hips, and surveyed her.

“Perfect, of course,” she said. “I wish I did poor work. I hate having a hand in this, night after night dressing you up for that man. I feel like I’m fattening you for the kill.”

Caroline smiled. “That’s not the most flattering comparison, but it’s apt enough. I promise you, though, that I have matters under control.” And that was true, so long as she did exactly what Bremerton wished, and did not risk seeing Jack.

“Miss Caroline,” Berta said from the bedroom doorway, “Lord Bremerton awaits you downstairs.”

“Thank you, Berta,” she said. “I’ll be down in just a moment.”

Mama’s maid left. Annie hurried to the dressing table and retrieved the emeralds. “I don’t know how you can be so calm, Miss. You know he’s doing this on purpose. Yesterday he was fifteen minutes early, and today twenty.”

“He’s doing it to get me to react. Therefore, I won’t,” Caroline said as she looked in the standing mirror and used two jeweled hairpins to place the dress’s small, matching feather aigrette into her hair.

“Oh, you’ll react one day. You’re just storing it up.” Annie smiled. “You’re not the sort who’s destined for sainthood.”

Caroline laughed. “Definitely not. I’m planning on developing a headache just around midnight, so expect me home not long after.”

“I’ll be here, waiting to hear how another night with the devil went.”

The devil was in the parlor, dressed to perfection in his cutaway tail coat. “You are timely.”

“I try to oblige,” she replied.

“I would like a moment to speak with you before we leave,” Bremerton said. He gestured at a small chair Mama had had upholstered in a Chinese tapestry. “Sit.”

Caroline’s dress, with its voluminous skirts, was not made for comfortable sitting. Once she had herself adequately perched, Bremerton moved in front of her. He stood less than a foot away, which forced her to crane her neck in order not to be staring at parts of him with which she’d prefer to remain unacquainted.

“Is there something in particular you wish to speak to me about, Lord Bremerton?”

“I want you to call me Marcus.”

“If you wish.” Caroline clasped her hands together in her lap. She’d begun to shake. She knew what was coming next.

“You’ve had a week now to meet those whom you would be seeing in my social milieu,” he said. “You have performed adequately.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. She gave him a cheery smile. “Thank you. Maybe you should give me a treat, as my mother does her lap dog.”

He disregarded her comment. “At this point, I see no reason in delaying my request for your hand in marriage.”

Again he stood silent. Caroline watched him.

“Well? What is your answer?” he finally asked.

“I don’t recall being asked a question,” she said as she sorted through the possible ways she might be able to escape or delay him.

His expression went from disaffected to annoyed. “If it soothes you to be asked in the form of a question … Miss Caroline Maxwell, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

She wanted to give him a blunt and irrevocable no. That, however, would only serve to inflame warfare among her parents and herself. Even her father, who was an indulgent man, would not tolerate outright rebellion. She drew in a breath and stepped onto the narrowest tightrope she had ever tried to tread.

“I recognize the great honor you’ve bestowed upon me, but I would hope you understand that I can’t give my consent at this moment. The marriage of a daughter is a joyous thing, and yet my father is an ocean away. I’d like to have him here.”

“Your father has already consented.”

“True,” she replied, wishing the Englishman would move far enough away that she could stand. Her neck was beginning to seize up. “However, that was all business. I’m speaking of the emotional aspects. I want to see my father’s eyes when he knows I am to wed.” And if it was to Bremerton, she wanted Papa to grasp the level of sacrifice she was making. “I would also point out that I haven’t yet seen where you live, Lord Bremerton—”

“Marcus,” he said in an icy tone.

“Yes, well … I would think that if a woman is to marry, she should have some sense of what her lifetime surroundings are to be, and what she can do to create a place of comfort for her husband. You’ve said that all I need to do is ask, and you’ll give me the world. I don’t ask for the world, but I do request these two small things.”

He stared down at her for what must have been at least a minute. His hands clenched and unclenched a few times. Caroline knew he wouldn’t dare to strike her in her own home, but she stiffened just the same.

“I expect your father to be here in under a fortnight,” he said. “And if you wish to see Chesley House, you shall see it.”

She exhaled a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. “Thank you.”

He looked down at her for a moment longer, a muscle at the side of his jaw working. “I will make your excuses to the Felker-Hugheses this evening. I am quite sure you must be overwrought.”

If he thought missing a ball was punishment, he knew nothing about her. Caroline nodded, and Bremerton turned and walked from the room. Once he was gone, she remained in the little Chinese chair and considered her options. Like the verbal tightrope she’d just treaded, they were stretching thin.

Caroline looked up as someone entered the parlor. It was Mama, and she wore a dinner dress instead of her recent shut-in garb. Her mother started when she noticed her.

“What are you still doing here?” Mama asked, her hand to her chest.

“Lord Bremerton was worried about my health and told me to stay in tonight.”

Her mother came closer. “Are you ill?”

“No, I had just asked him to defer his marriage proposal. He believed that I had to be ill.”

“He offered and you
declined
?”

“No, Mama,” Caroline said in a calming tone. “As I just said, I deferred.”

“This is dreadful!”

“No, it’s reasonable. I want Papa here, and I want to have seen Bremerton’s house.” Caroline estimated those two events would buy her another three weeks. “That’s not so very much to ask.”

Her mother seemed to calm herself as she paced in front of the fireplace.

“Well, we’ll do what we can to speed this along. Your father should be here by Monday,” Mama said. “He’s crossing on the Vandermeulens’ yacht with them. I had asked him to leave the
Conqueror
at my disposal for a speedy return to New York to complete wedding plans … should you be a decent enough daughter to let that come to pass.” She began breathing quickly, but getting no air in. “You, however, have not! How could you do this?”

Her mother’s calm had been very short-lived. Caroline didn’t want to think how Mama would have taken it if she’d said no. She rose and reached out a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Please relax. There’s no crisis.” Except Papa arriving early, she thought.

Her mother held a hand to her chest. “There
is
a crisis! Any well-bred young woman would have accepted. I’m sure he’s off looking at other potential wives tonight!”

Mama clearly underestimated the lure of the Maxwell millions, but pointing that out would do little to help.

“Please, you really do need to breathe, Mama.”

“I can’t!”

“Do you want me to call for your doctor?”

“No! I wish you to stay out of my sight unless you’re coming to tell me that you’ve accepted Lord Bremerton. Now, please leave me.”

“Yes, Mama,” Caroline said. She kept her head high all the way to her bedroom, where she cried. How could Mama not see Lord Bremerton for what he really was?

*   *   *

JACK SAT at the bar in a smoky pub some distance from the Savoy. Talk and laughter bounced off the building’s low, beamed ceiling. The air was thick, and the ale, the richest Jack had ever tasted.

Da was taking Flora out to some fancy dinner tonight, and had even gone so far as to have a new tuxedo made. Jack was good with his unremarkable clothes and a platter of roasted beef and boiled potatoes. At least, as good as he could get knowing that Caroline was with Bremerton yet again.

The Englishman had been efficient in ensuring that Jack couldn’t secure invitations to any of the events he’d been taking Caroline to. Jack had asked Flora to try through her friends, and he had reached out to some college acquaintances who now lived in London, but he’d come up dry. He had, however, caught some unsavory tales about Bremerton.

Rumor had it that His Lordship owed a great deal of money to a man one didn’t want to cross. The only reason he still lived was that he was a duke’s direct heir. The potential of eventual repayment beat the nuisance factor of killing him.

The noise level in the pub suddenly dropped. Jack looked toward the door. Bremerton had entered. His evening clothes made him as obvious as a peacock in a flock of sparrows. He slowly scanned the crowded tables. Jack turned back to his food. The Englishman could afford to work to find him.

Bremerton soon elbowed his way between Jack and the man seated to his right, who looked damned unhappy with the intrusion. Jack kept eating.

“This would be your sort of place,” Bremerton said.

“Best ale I’ve ever had,” Jack replied. “Want me to buy you one?”

“You’re not in the least curious why I’m here, are you?”

Jack speared another bite of potato and shrugged. “All we have in common is Caroline. And as to why I’m not surprised to see you, why should I be? I know you’re having me followed.” He inclined his head toward a scarecrow of a man with a pockmarked face and tweed cap. He’d been sitting by himself and nursing the same ale for some time. “Your man isn’t very subtle.”

“But he comes cheaply and he’s not averse to violence,” Bremerton said.

Jack heard the threat, he just didn’t care. “In his line of work, he’d better not be. So what do you want?”

“I want to make it clear what the consequences are if you do not leave England immediately.”

“And those would be?” Jack asked after making Bremerton wait while he ate a bite of beef.

“Fatal.”

Jack laughed. “Unlikely unless you hire better than that,” he said, hitching his thumb toward Bremerton’s puny hired muscle. “And we both know you’re flat out of money.”

“Are you drinking something or just taking up my space?” the bartender demanded of Bremerton, who ignored him.

“I don’t mean fatal for you,” Bremerton said to Jack.

He gave Bremerton a brawler’s grin. “We both know you’re not touching Caroline until you’re married.”

“But Flora Willoughby is expendable.”

Now Jack was angry. “I’m beginning to lose my patience with you.”

The bartender smacked his palm on the bar.
“Oi!
Order or get your overdressed arse onto the street.”

Jack wanted that arse to land another place. He stood and knotted his left hand into Bremerton’s cravat and sunk his right into his gut. The Englishman’s knees buckled. He staggered into Jack’s neighbor as Jack threw some money on the bar.

“He can finish mine,” Jack said and then left the pub.

*   *   *

FLORA LOVED formal restaurant dinners. She knew the order of cutlery for twelve courses and could handle escargot tongs without a slip. She reveled in epicurean delights and felt that fine French burgundies were nectar of the gods. Tonight, though, as she sat in the Savoy’s River Restaurant with Patrick, she might as well have been gnawing on squirrel and swilling grape juice. Flora was inexplicably nervous. And Patrick, who generally did not do well in places as opulent as this, remained completely calm.