The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Grace’s mind whirled as she watched in horror as the scene played out before her. She missed much of what was said, but when Madeline’s voice rose, strident and furious, above the wind, she heard the words that turned her heart cold.

Madeline was being secretly courted by Mr. Gladstone.

It can’t be. It can’t. There must be some mistake.

But it all made sense—the reason Madeline wanted Grace to get out of the house and meet people, and why she was so eager to lower Grace’s opinion of Mr. Gladstone.

Madeline wanted him for herself.

“So he did care more about the Barstow name than about me after all!” Grace muttered, tears stinging her eyes. “And now he’s found himself another Barstow daughter…a prettier one.”

“No, Grace, you have it all wrong…please, stop…” Clara grasped at her sleeve again.

But she shook Clara off. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, bringing her closer to the trio as they argued. She wanted to flee, but her shock and anger propelled her on, despite Clara’s whispered protests.

She walked up behind Madeline and Mr. Gladstone as they watched Felicia Browning stride away. Somehow she found the courage to ask the question that she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.

“
Are
you being courted by him?” Her voice broke, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold the angry tears at bay.

“No…”

Madeline came forward and tried to take her hand, but Grace pulled away as if her hands were on fire.

“Grace, please,” Madeline begged, “I promise nothing is going on between Mr. Gladstone and I. We were waiting here for you. I only said those things to drive Miss Browning away. The girl is abominable!”

The fear and hurt melted away into confusion as Grace looked up at Mr. Gladstone. “Why would you be waiting for me? How could you know I would be…?” her voice trailed off, and she regarded Clara with a cold look of hurt and distrust. “So the man who wanted to meet you in the park…it was really Mr. Gladstone, waiting for you to bring me? It was just a ruse?”

“Don’t be angry.” Clara exchanged a sheepish look with Madeline. “We knew you wouldn’t come down from your room willingly to hear what he has to say.”

Grace’s eyes flicked up to Mr. Gladstone, then looked away. “I’m not sure there is anything to be said.”

“Miss Barstow, please,” he begged, “there is
much
to say. There has been a terrible mix up, and I’m afraid you’ve come away with the idea that I shunned you at the ball.”

“Didn’t you?” Her voice had an icy edge to it.

“No! Not at all. Miss Browning came up to me just as I was coming to ask you to dance. She delivered some terrible news…” he continued on, explaining the entire story.

“I don’t understand. How is it possible that for weeks now, you’ve been completely ignorant of our situation, or the fact that we’re living at our uncle’s home? If you wanted to find me so badly, why wouldn’t you have asked around? You’re staying in your uncle’s home at the moment—surely the staff could have found out for you?”

“You must understand, my aunt and uncle are still out of town, and I don’t move in the same social circles that you do. Any high society events I attend are either held by my aunt and uncle, or else I attend as their guest. I am not on the calling list of any of Boston’s elite. As to why I didn’t investigate more, and locate your family…well, I have no legitimate excuse for that. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s the result of pride on my part. I don’t take rejection very well, and I was sure your silence was a rejection. Otherwise, decorum would have dictated that you leave your calling card at my uncle’s home…had you gotten the message, that is.”

His admission moved her, cracking the hard shell she had erected around her heart. “I’m afraid that may be a quality we both share. I was sure you had rejected me, even though I was too rude to even listen to the message you sent with the footman. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Only if you forgive me. I had a sense of your character—I should never have assumed the worst, without at least finding out from you in person.” He glanced over at Madeline and Clara, then shifted his gaze back to Grace. “I have the rest of the afternoon off, and I think there may be an hour of sunlight left. Could I interest you in a stroll around the Common?” He offered her his arm.

A thrill ran through her. “I…yes, I’d be delighted.” She took his arm.

“And you’re both welcome to come along, as chaperones,” he told her sisters.

“Grace is old enough to walk in the park unchaperoned, but perhaps we will go for a stroll on our own.”

“Good idea,” Clara agreed, “Mother will be home any minute, and the longer we stay out, the happier she’ll be when we return.”

The two of them walked off in a different direction, leaving Grace and Mr. Gladstone to stroll at a casual pace. Her hand was hooked in the crook of his arm, and she enjoyed the warmth of his body against it. It was as if the last few weeks never happened, and this was just a continuation of their night at the ball.

“Your sisters are delightful,” he said. “They both have a lot of spunk.”

Grace laughed. “They are wonderful. Clearly, I owe them a lot. They’ve put up with my...moods…for the last few weeks. I’ve given them no reason to go to such great lengths to help me, yet they have. I must thank them later, for all they’ve done.”

“You and I, both. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be at your side. I must confess…I’ve thought of little else these last weeks.”

“Oh?” Grace had no idea how she was maintaining such a calm exterior. Inside she was dancing! She would never admit to him just how often she’d thought of him.

“I suppose I should make more small talk and wait until I see you to your door to bring this up, but I can’t. Too much time has passed. I’ve waited four years to ask you this, and I won’t wait another moment.” He stopped, turning toward her, their faces scarcely a foot apart. “I would very much like permission to court you, Grace Barstow.”

The air left her lungs entirely, leaving her breathless. “I…you…do?”

He nodded. “Most definitely.”

The silence stretched on as she was lost in his eyes, and in the delight of knowing that he truly did want to be with her.

“Miss Barstow?” His brow furrowed.

“Oh!” She realized with a start that he was still waiting for an answer. “Yes. Of course, my answer is yes.”

He beamed, turning to lead her down the promenade again, stealing glances at her as they went. “There’s just one thing.”

Her heart—so overwhelmed with joy—skipped a beat out of fear. “What’s that?”

“Your mother. I know we’ll need her approval. And I must be frank…I did not exaggerate when I said I am on no one’s calling list. I’ve never been invited to a society event on my own, and though that could change as I rise in esteem at my law firm, I’d be unlikely to attain more than being invited to the largest of society’s charity events. The more exclusive events would be closed to me. And given your family’s situation…in the end, if a woman like you should marry a man like me, it could pull you down lower in social standing.”

Grace thought a moment before giving her reply. “My sister and I are of the same mind…when I marry, it must be for love. Of all my family, I’m probably the least attached to our fancy things or our place in society. I don’t like the idea of being gossiped about, but at the same time, anyone who would speak out of turn about me or my family is not someone whose opinion I respect. So although we do need to seek my mother’s approval, I will make it clear to her that I will only marry a man I love.”

He said nothing, only stared straight ahead. But his left hand crept over to where hers rested, hooked on his arm, and he gave it a brief squeeze. That squeeze told Grace everything she needed to know.

Chapter Seventeen

June, 1897

Madeline watched as her sister and Garrett Gladstone descended the steps of the church, laughing and holding hands as Garrett helped her alight into the open carriage. She blinked against the onslaught of rice tossed at the newlywed couple, which ricocheted and bounced off her own gown.

She tried not to think about the fact that her rose pink gown had been refashioned from the gown she’d worn to the Summer Follies fundraising ball two years earlier. She hoped that the narrowed sleeves, redesigned gathers, and the addition of silk flowers and bows would mask its origin.

I shouldn’t be thinking of myself. This is Grace’s day, not mine.

The Barstow women had to resort to selling several of their newest gowns to afford the wedding gown Grace wore. It was the one expense their uncle refused to fund.

It was worth it
, Madeline thought as she watched Grace pulling the full bustle of the gown through the carriage door.

They’d hired a local seamstress to replicate—as much as possible—a Worth design they had found. Though less detailed, with far less beading, it was a fine dress, and Grace didn’t seem to mind—her eyes never left her new husband’s.

“I’ve never seen her happier,” Clara murmured.

“Neither have I. She looks beautiful.”

Grace smiled shyly at Garrett, and lifted her hand in a giddy wave as guests offered congratulations and well wishes and the carriage pulled away.

“Make haste, girls,” chided Miriam. “We must arrive at the house before the guests do. The breakfast reception starts in half an hour.”

***

Garrett took Grace’s hand and kissed it once the carriage was far enough down the street. “We are alone at last!” he sighed.

“I know, I’m so happy,” she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve a mind to tell the driver to keep going right past Uncle Henry’s house, and never stop!”

“That would be fine by me.” He grinned. “But I suspect your Mother would chase us down herself, if she had to.”

Grace giggled. “Now
that
I would like to see!”

He relished every moment they had together as the carriage turned onto a side street, then turned again, merging with the line of carriages and buggies plodding down Beacon Street.

He looked down at Grace and saw that far away look in her eyes again. “Are you thinking of Winston?”

She bit her lip, giving him a sheepish grin. “You know me so well. I’m sorry, that’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. If he hadn’t gotten sick, you’d have been married almost a year.”

“Our first anniversary would have been next week,” she looked down at his hand, then shifted her eyes quickly to his. “But please don’t think I have any regrets. I don’t. I’m blissfully happy to be Mrs. Garrett Gladstone.”

“I know. It must be a strange feeling, to miss one person, but to know you couldn’t have the love that you have now if that person was still in your life.”

“How did I end up with such a wise and understanding husband?”

“Excellent luck, my dear.” He kissed the top of her head, through her veil. He’d never seen her as radiant as he did at the altar. He only wished he could wipe all traces of anguish from her life.

She had told him the story of Winston Endicott’s death—how he’d had a sore throat for weeks that he made light of, insisting it was nothing. It developed into a severe case of quinsy. Grace stayed by his bedside as much as his family would let her. She had been sure he would rally, until the blood poisoning set in, and took him in a matter of days. And when she’d only begun to mourn, her father died suddenly, two months later.

Two great losses so close together. What I wouldn’t give to be able to free her from that pain!
he thought.

Grace sighed, but a smile accompanied the sadness. “I’ll always miss Winston, and part of me will always love him, but it was never the same. I don’t think we were the best match, when all is said and done. I’d always have wondered if he would have married me, had my family’s financial troubles been public knowledge back then.”

“And with me, you’ll never have to wonder.”

“No. With you, I’ll only wonder how I lived the first twenty years of my life without you.”

***

“At last!” Madeline told Grace. She’d been trying to steal time with her sister for the last half hour, but the many guests and well-wishers all wanted their turn to speak with the bride. “You’re positively beaming.”

“Am I?” Grace blushed, giggling. “I suppose that’s to be expected on the happiest day of my life. I just wish I could be alone with him already. I’ve hardly spoken to him all morning.”

“You’ll have all your life to talk with him.” Madeline hooked her arm in Grace’s. “I’m holding you hostage, at least for a few minutes more.”

“Very well, you win!” Grace laughed.

“I’m very happy for you both,” Madeline said. Then she lowered her voice. “And I’m green with envy—you won’t wake every morning to Mother’s clucking about how we’re all doomed if we don’t catch a husband immediately!”

Grace chuckled. “True! I’ve dreamed of this day, in more ways than one. But you, dear sister, must take matters into your own hands, if you want freedom from Mother’s chiding.”

“Not you too!” Madeline sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so happy I could burst! And I saw you earlier—you’re not happy at all.”

“Nonsense. I’m thrilled for you and Mr. Gladstone.”

“You’re thrilled for us, but you’re not happy in your own right. I desperately want to see both you and Clara have every bit as much happiness as I have right now.”

“We’ll be fine. Mother has had a letter from Cousin Isabel—she’s expecting, and she invited Clara to come stay with her during her confinement.”

“I didn’t know that! But surely Mother will want her to remain here. How many young men could she meet, staying shut in with an expectant cousin?”

“Isabel says that her mother has promised to make sure Clara is invited to every social occasion, and accompany her. There will be less gossip for Clara in New York, and that may give her more opportunities than she’d have here in Boston.”

“But surely Mother won’t hear of Clara marrying a New Yorker?”

“She is considering it, at least. Uncle is restless. She may not have a choice.”

Madeline wouldn’t tell Grace about the conversation she overheard, in which their Uncle gave Mother an ultimatum—find all her daughters husbands in six months, or she wouldn’t be allowed to stay on.

“But what about you? Won’t you be invited, too?”

“Mother didn’t want to push her luck with Cousin Isabel’s kindness. Oh, don’t look at me with such sad eyes, Grace! I’ll be fine. I have other options I’m exploring right now?”

“And what are those?”

Madeline thought about the letter in her reticule from the gentleman rancher in Montana. The idea of becoming a mail order bride was humiliating—she, an attractive woman and daughter of an elite Boston family! But it was far less humiliating than the idea of facing Eliza’s taunts at every social occasion. The rancher was the best candidate so far, and his Montana home was far from the prying eyes of her peers…but she’d never tell Grace about it. Not until she’d made her decision for certain, and everything was settled.

“I’ll let you know when I’m sure things won’t fall through.”

Grace frowned. “Why do I get the feeling I won’t like your ‘other options’? I don’t want you going to New York. I’d miss you terribly.”

Madeline forced a smile, and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “I don’t yet know where I’ll be, or who I will marry. But I will find myself a good situation. And if it is not here in Boston, rest assured that no matter how far away I am, I will always think of you, and I’ll always stay in touch.”

“You’re frightening me. I won’t hear of you leaving Boston.”

“Maybe you won’t. Perhaps I’ll live right beside you.”

Grace brightened. “That’s better! Remember, you did promise to name your first daughter after me.”

“How can I forget?” Madeline took Grace’s hand and squeezed it. “You have kept me on the straight and narrow all my life, and reminded me when I needed to be more kind. You’ve been the best sister one could ask for, and I admire you greatly. I could do no better than to name my first daughter Grace. But don’t tell Clara that,” she added. “I’ll deny every word.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “How do I know you don’t tell Clara the same thing?”

“I suppose you’ll find out for sure, when I have a daughter,” she giggled. “And speaking of,” Madeline flashed her a wicked smile, “are you hoping for a boy, first, or a girl?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just so happy to finally be Mrs. Gladstone, I haven’t given it much thought.”

“You two will have beautiful babies together,” Madeline sighed, letting go of Grace’s hand. She felt tears coming on again, thinking about how she might not be in Boston for the birth of Grace’s future babies, and she didn’t want Grace to suspect anything. “I should let you go to your husband. I can see him giving you the eye from here, so I suspect you’ve been away from him too long.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t keep him waiting. Enjoy yourself today, Madeline. And remember what I said…my future children need their Aunt Madeline right here in Boston, not in New York City.”

Madeline watched her sister wend her way through the guests, each of whom wanted to stop her and offer congratulations again.

“She looks so happy,” her mother said, coming up beside her.

“Yes. She’s positively glowing.” Madeline forced a smile.

“He’s not one of us, but mark my words, he’ll be an influential politician someday…and that’s something, isn’t it?”

Miriam’s satisfied smile was the first genuine smile Madeline had seen on her mother in a long time.

“Perhaps. And it will be good to have an honest politician in power, if that happens. But you know those aspirations are his uncle’s, not necessarily his own.”

“We’ll see.” Miriam said, her eyes twinkling.

Even now, with Grace settled and happy, Mother can’t stop herself from meddling. Poor Grace will have to deal with this her whole life long!

“That reminds me,” Miriam said as they watched Grace across the room, returning to Garrett’s side. “Your Aunt Alice has invited Richard Brandywine to dinner on Thursday. Be sure to ask Margaret to mend your ruby red dinner gown—I noticed the hem was showing wear the last time you wore it.”

“Richard Brandywine?” Madeline gasped. “Mother, you can’t be serious! He owns a
haberdashery!”

“
Five
haberdasheries, my dear, in Boston and in New York. And they’re opening another in Hartford. You seem to forget your uncle’s ultimatum. Mr. Brandywine is good looking, has decent manners, and is an up-and-comer in Boston society. Not to mention, a decent amount of money.”

“
New
money, Mother!”

“That’s enough, my dear,” Miriam warned, the smile never leaving her face as she looked around the room. “I know what is best, just leave it all to me.”

Madeline bit her tongue, but fumed in silence. She thought again of the letter from the Montana rancher. Perhaps it was time she gave serious consideration to the man. His ranch was close to a town, so it must be electrified and have running water. He’d told her his holdings were large. She’d stayed in many ‘rustic’ beachside manor homes…wouldn’t living in Montana be very much like that?

Mr. Croft had assured her that Helena was a very modern town, and far advanced from its primitive pioneer beginnings. It might not be the same luxurious life she grew up in, but it couldn’t be much worse than living on a shoestring, at her uncle’s whim, could it?

At least she would be running her own household, and her husband would surely provide her with everything she needed. Not the latest Paris fashions, but at least some very good copies from a talented seamstress. She was sure to be the most fashionable and respectable woman in Helena, and there was something to be said for that.

“What are you thinking about?” Miriam asked. “You look so deep in thought, I’m expecting smoke to billow from your ears.”

Madeline smiled as she watched her brother-in-law across the room, gazing at his new wife. The couples’ eyes sparkled as they looked upon one another in love and admiration.

“The future,” Madeline murmured. “Just as you’ve asked, Mother, I’m thinking about my future.”

###

Read on for an excerpt of
Mail Order Regrets
, the first book in the
Montana Mail Order Brides
series, which features Madeline Barstow’s mail order bride journey:

The worst of the storm passed just to the northwest of them, but snow still came swirling down, forcing them to take a slower pace. For a time they passed through a more open, hilly area, before they made it to a narrow, winding part of the road that meandered with tall, craggy cliffs and hills on either side. The sky was obscured by the clouds, and the last bit of light was fading as they pulled off the main road and down a long trail to a small cabin nestled in the foothills. There was no glow of lamplight coming from the windows, nor was there any smoke billowing from the chimney.