The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) (9 page)

“Clara, really!” Madeline chided.

“He should know.”

“I
should
know. It’s all my fault. I assumed the reason Grace didn’t send her calling card was because your mother must have deemed me an unsuitable match. But all this time, Grace has believed that I abandoned her at the ball…over money?”

Madeline nodded, embarrassed.

He sighed. “I’d be angry for her presumption, if it I hadn’t judged her just as harshly.” He straightened in his seat. “I must see her at once! I can’t let her suffer any longer—she has to know the truth.”

“She’ll never see you,” Clara piped up from the back seat. “She’s hardly left her room in weeks.”

“We’ll tell her,” Madeline decided. “Then she’ll come down and see you.”

“No,” Gladstone insisted. “No, it must come from me. She’s been through a lot, with your father passing, the financial difficulties, and now thinking I’ve rejected her. She may not be thinking clearly—I know I wasn’t, for a long time after my own father passed. This is something she needs to hear from me.”

“He’s right. And the conversation should take place away from the house, or else Mother will find a way to interfere.”

“We’ve tried for weeks to get her downstairs,” Madeline said, shaking her head. “I don’t see how we can get her to leave the house.”

“Oh!” Clara clapped her hands over her mouth, gasping. “I have a brilliant idea!”

Madeline listened as Clara proposed her strategy, and had to admit it was better than any contrivance she could come up with.

“Very well, then,” Madeline agreed, “we have a plan. I only hope it works out as we think it will.” She bit her lip, wondering if they were making a mistake.

Grace wasn’t herself, and there was no telling what her reaction would be.

Chapter Fourteen

Grace was ensconced in her room, reading a book. She’d managed to avoid Mother’s attempts to drag her out on social calls, and everyone else was either in other parts of the house, or out doing their own thing.

After her argument with Madeline the day before, Mother had burst in moments later and lectured her for twenty minutes on how she was wearing everyone’s patience thin. Grace didn’t know how much more of Mother’s needling she could take.

For once, though, the house was quiet and she was left in peace. She drank in the silence and tried to focus on her book, relieved to be alone, for once.

But it didn’t last.

Grace heard rushed footsteps treading heavily up the stairs. She glanced up from her book in time to see Clara sweep into her room.

“Get your coat on, quickly,” Clara panted. “I’ve encountered a very handsome gentleman who wishes to meet up with me in the park!”

Her face was flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparkled. Whoever it was, he had her in an ebullient mood.

“And why would I want to go with you?”

Clara sighed, hands on her hips. “I need a chaperone.”

“Ask Madeline.” Grace returned to her book.

“Madeline isn’t here.”

“Where is she?”

“What difference does that make?” Clara rolled her eyes. “She’s not here, and I need a chaperone.”

Grace raised the book higher in front of her face. “Ask Mother.”

“Oh bother, Grace, would
you
take Mother? Regardless, she’s out visiting.”

“Can’t you ask a servant?” Grace snapped, growing weary of Clara’s demands.

“Uncle won’t let a housemaid bring you up a bowl of soup—do you really think he’ll let me drag one of them out to the park? Please?”

Setting down her book with a sigh. “Clara, you know I haven’t been outside the house since…since before Christmas. I’m comfortable here in my room. I’ve no desire to venture out in the cold.”

“But think on it, you could tell Mother you went out and socialized! It might keep her out of your business for a day or two. And all you have to do is sit on a park bench for an hour.”

The idea was tempting.
I doubt she’d leave me alone for a day or two, but she might lighten up on the nagging a bit.
It was better than Mother dragging her to a social event.

She relented. “Alright, let me fetch my coat. But I warn you, no more than an hour, Clara, or I’ll leave you there and tell Mother you refused to come home with me.”

“It’s a deal!” Clara clapped, bouncing on her heels like a little girl, her face bright with joy.

“Watch yourself. If you behave like that in front of a gentleman, you’ll scare him away.”

“I will.” Clara nodded solemnly, following Grace out the bedroom door. “Perhaps you should put on your best wool hat.”

“Why?” Grace glanced back over her shoulder as they descended the stairs. “He’s your beau, not mine.”

“I never said he was my beau. We only just met for the first time, yesterday. But you should look your best…you know…in case Mother spots us in the park. It will give her one more thing to bother you about, if you aren’t looking your best.”

“True enough. The green wool hat it is, then.”

As they fetched their coats and Grace fit the green wool hat on her head, Clara regarded her with the strangest look.

If I didn’t know better,
Grace thought
, I’d suspect my sister was up to no good. Or perhaps it is merely her excitement.

***

“Ahh, the sun is coming out. That should take the edge off the chilly air,” Madeline said, trying to fill the awkward silence. She smoothed her coat over her lap, then stuck her hand back inside the fur muff.
I’m glad I wore my warmest wool dress and full-length coat, or I’d be a block of ice by now.

“I hope it does. I wouldn’t want your sister to catch a cold.” He looked up at the trees, blowing out a puff of crystalized air.

She and Mr. Gladstone sat on a bench in the public garden on the west side of the common, waiting for Clara to return with Grace. There hadn’t been enough daylight left to instigate their plan the day before, so Madeline and Clara had met him in the garden the next afternoon at three o’clock, the soonest he could leave his office.

After Clara had left to fetch Grace, there was nothing for them to do but sit and wait, and gaze at the snow-covered gardens, the denuded bushes, and the barren branches of the elms reaching toward the sky. Now and then a neighbor or acquaintance would pass, and Madeline would smile and nod in greeting. The rest of the time was spent with either she or Mr. Gladstone commenting on the weather or the identities of various people strolling through the park.

She had left a decent amount of room between them, taking extra care not to encourage gossip, should anyone pass by and take notice of them. But she didn’t know what to say to a man she had nothing in common with, and knew little about.

He gazed down the promenade that Clara had left by. “Do you think Grace will forgive me?”

“Mr. Gladstone, there’s nothing to forgive. If anyone is at fault, we are. And I haven’t even apologized yet...”

“There’s no need—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “There is. We judged you unfairly.”

“Understandable, given the reactions of other ball attendees that night. But I assure you, I am not like them. I’m not a Brahmin, and I care not a whit for becoming one. I’ve tried to convince myself all week that I don’t need a wife and family, and that I should focus on my legal career, and a possible future in politics. But I fear I was only trying to distract myself from thoughts of your sister.”

“Convince yourself? Aren’t you interested in a political career?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just not my style. Perhaps in the future, if I feel that I can do some good…but right now, I’m at the stage of my life where I believe it’s time to settle down. If I can find the right girl, and convince her to marry me, that is.” He gave Madeline quirky smile.

Madeline feigned a shocked expression. “Don’t tell Mother that! I think she already has plans for you to become the next governor of Massachusetts.”

They both laughed…but Madeline was only half joking. If all went well, the man was in for a surprise when he met Miriam Barstow.

“Garrett? Is that you?”

They looked up, startled, and spied Felicia Browning approaching.

She wore the most beautiful coat Madeline had ever seen—a double-breasted wool coat in cocoa brown duvetyn, trimmed in mink fur. The waist was fitted, tapering at the waist before flaring out into a full skirt. The wind lifted the bottom edge of the coat, revealing a blood-red silk lining as she walked.

If that’s not by House of Worth, than I’m a monkey’s uncle!
Madeline struggled to contain the envy that reared up inside, knowing she might never wear Worth again.

“Miss Browning!” Mr. Gladstone stood to greet her. “What brings you out alone in the park?”

“Oh, I’m not alone, Garrett—I mean, Mr. Gladstone.” She flashed Madeline a smile as if to apologize for her informal address of him…but Madeline suspected it was no accident. “I’m with Miss Winthrop. But she ran into a gentleman friend of hers, and I thought I’d take a short stroll and give them a minute to talk.”

Or you saw Mr. Gladstone with another woman, and headed straight over here,
Madeline thought. She glanced across the garden, and spied Viola Winthrop and a man standing near the statue of Washington, stealing surreptitious glances their way.
Exactly as I thought!

“Have you met Miss Madeline Barstow? ”

Felicia smiled, her expression cat-like. “Oh yes, I know all about the Barstow family.” Her voice dripped sarcasm, wrapped in a polite tone.

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Browning.” Madeline managed a tight smile. “I’m sorry to hear your sister is so ill.”

Felicia’s cocky smile softened into an air of concern. “It’s dreadful. Just ask Mr. Gladstone.” She laid a hand on his arm. “He’s spent countless hours with me, at poor Amelia’s bedside. I thought we would lose her for sure.” She turned her face up toward Mr. Gladstone’s, her eyes wide and sorrowful, and her mouth formed into a sad little pout.

Her charade was so transparent, and so syrupy-sweet, that Madeline thought she might be ill.

A flush crept up Mr. Gladstone’s neck, and he patted her hand before gently removing it. “We were all worried.”

“I’m surprised you’re out socializing if your sister is so unwell.” Madeline assumed an equally false expression of concern. Mr. Gladstone had told her how much better Amelia was doing.

“Oh, I think she’s much better,” Mr. Gladstone cut in, “don’t you, Miss Browning.

Felicia turned her face away from Mr. Gladstone for a moment, pinning Madeline with an icy stare. “Yes. I suppose she is.” Then the look was gone, and she turned back to her former fiancé. “But then, she could relapse at any moment. She does so much better when you come to see her. I do hope you will keep coming.”

“Of course I will, but I’m swamped at work. I need to impress the senior attorneys at my firm, and live up to the expectations they have for the nephew of Edgar Dwight. I don’t think I can continue spending every evening at your home, especially when Amelia is on the mend.”

“Certainly…but…I’m still so worried about her. I just don’t know what I’ll do, without you there to lean on. Perhaps you could come by right now…?” She looked up at him through her long, blonde eyelashes, her face a mixture of pathetic neediness and coy flirtation.

That’s enough,
Madeline seethed.
It ends here.

Chapter Fifteen

“Wait, Clara,” Grace huffed as she walked briskly down the promenade, barely able to keep up with her sister’s brisk pace. “The last thing you want to do is arrive out of breath and appearing over eager.”

“I’m sorry.” Clara slowed down. “I suppose I
am
eager.”

They took a more reasonable pace as they left the walking mall for a narrower promenade.

“You still haven’t told me your gentleman’s name.”

Clara remained silent a moment. “You’ve met him before. I’ll bet you can’t guess who it is.” She wore an impish grin.

“Oh really, Clara, I’m not in the mood for a game. How could I possibly guess? You flit about at every social gathering like a butterfly, drawing attention from every suitor that passes!”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

As they approached the Ether Monument, Grace heard loud voices ahead…and one voice sounded familiar.

“Madeline?” she wondered aloud.

They began to follow the path circling the monument’s fountain base, when a trio came into view on the promenade beyond, clustered together, with two women engaged in a heated conversation.

“Oh no!” Grace gasped, pulling Clara until they were hidden from view behind the base of the Ether Monument. “It’s him! Mr. Gladstone.”

Clara followed her gaze to where Mr. Gladstone stood beside a park bench. “So it is.”

“Why is Madeline with him? And who is that in the brown coat?”

“Oooh, that coat is divine!”

“It looks like Miss Browning. They must be out on a walk together, and stopped to talk to Madeline.” Her heart ached at the thought.

Come now, Grace, what’s wrong with you? Who cares about a man who doesn’t feel a thing for you? You must get past it!

“No, Grace, you’re wrong—”

“Sssh,” Grace hissed. “It sounds like they’re arguing. Why would that be?”

“Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.” Clara bit her lip.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to your gentleman caller soon enough. We just need to stay quiet and wait for them to leave. Hopefully they’ll go in the opposite direction—I couldn’t bear to speak to him.”

“We shouldn’t lie in wait here. It’s like eavesdropping. We should just walk up to them and let them know we’re here.” Clara pulled her sleeve from Grace’s grasp and continued around the dry fountain, toward them.

“No!” hissed Grace. But it was too late.

Drawing up her courage, Grace followed.

***

Madeline almost expected Miss Browning to bat her eyelashes at Mr. Gladstone. The sly girl was turning on the charm, and playing to his gentlemanly sense of duty.

“Please,” Miss Browning urged, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble to visit Amelia at least one more time, would it?”

Mr. Gladstone opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. What could a man say, when put in such an awkward position?

Madeline had reached the limits of patients.

She rose slowly from the bench, regarding Felicia with her own frigid glare, while maintaining the façade of a polite smile. “Miss Browning, I’m shocked that your mother didn’t teach you more decorum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Gladstone is clearly making a social call,” Madeline snapped, bending the truth a little, “if he wanted to court you, wouldn’t he be at your door, not mine?”

Felicia’s mouth gaped. “How rude!” She turned to Mr. Gladstone, taking his hand in a bold manner. “Garrett, please tell me you’re not courting this…this…this awful, spiteful, selfish woman!”

“And if he is?” Madeline stepped forward, taking the place on the other side of Mr. Gladstone, standing close to him and implying familiarity. “
You
are the one that used him to irritate your parents, Miss Browning, and
you
cast him aside. Then, when you saw him dance with my sister at the Winter Ball, you decided you wanted him back. You used your sister’s illness to draw him back into your life. Now seeing him here with me, you’re trying the same ruse, even though your sister is on the mend!”

“You’re destitute now,” Felicia mocked, “so I should find it no surprise that you’d try to steal a man out from under me.”

“Steal him? You turned him away of your own accord.” She drew herself up, tall and proud. “And at least when
I
marry, it won’t be for money, or power, or position. It will be for love. Real love. Here you are, one of the wealthiest girls in Boston, and you must trick a man into coming to see you!”

Felicia’s chest heaved, her eyes burning with rage, but she said nothing, and merely turned back to Garrett. “It was bad enough that you fawned all over Grace Barstow, plain little bean pole that she is, but now you’ve moved on to
Madeline?
Who is next? Their debutante little sister? They’re
penniless
, Garrett! They have nothing! They
are
nothing.” She took his hand in both of hers.
“I
can give you everything!”

Tears glistened in Felicia’s eyes, and Madeline almost believed they were real, that time…though conjured up over her own self-pity.

“That’s enough!” Garrett hissed, pulling his hand from her grasp. “You’re making a fool of yourself. I cannot believe you would drag the good name of such fine people through the mud,
Miss Browning
,” he said, emphasizing her surname in order to put emotional distance between them. “I knew you were spoiled, but I had no idea you were so selfish. It is none of your concern who I court, or who I marry. The only thing that you need know is it
won’t
be you.”

Felicia sputtered, then whirled around and stalked off toward her friends, the flapping hem of her coat revealing glimpses of blood-red silk as she went.

Somehow, Madeline managed to stifle the laugh that wanted to escape. “Well done, Mr. Gladstone.”

They grinned at each other, and Mr. Gladstone shook his head. “I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”

“Madeline?”

They both whirled and saw her sisters approaching. Grace’s face was pallid and her sapphire eyes wide with shock. “
Are
you being courted by him?”

The accusation stung, but it was understandable, given what Grace must have overheard. “No…” She rushed toward Grace, taking her hand. Grace yanked it away, her eyes reflecting betrayal.

Madeline realized she might have made yet another grave mistake.