The Husband List (19 page)

Caroline’s heart pounded as the realization of what she’d just said hit her. Then relief set in. The words were out, and she could breathe. It had grown very quiet inside the carriage, though. Her sense of relief thinned and quickly disappeared as Jack sat there, saying nothing at all. She’d never seen him this deadly serious.

He leaned across her and opened the window shades. Then he drew the choker from his pocket.

“Come closer,” he said calmly.

She did, and he clasped the pearls around her neck.

“Now you’re just as you were last night,” he said.

Except she wasn’t, and neither was he. They never would be again.

THIRTEEN

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Flora said to Patrick Culhane.

“What? Touro Park is a public place,” he replied. “And we’re two old friends strolling on a Wednesday afternoon. There’s no scandal in that.”

Flora breathed in the fresh, clean air. The park was glorious, with its lush lawns, sweeping elms, broad pathways, and statuary. “It’s not scandal that concerns me.”

He smiled as he took in her dress, which, while cut appropriately for the hour of the day, was a bright crimson.

“I’m thinking not,” he said.

“Color makes me feel as though I’m on stage. Sometimes I miss that excitement, the thrill of becoming someone other than who I am.”

“I was always just fine with who you were.” He took a seat on a park bench and patted its wooden slats. “Come sit by me.”

Flora chose the opposite end. Patrick tipped back his head and let loose a full-hearted laugh she loved hearing. “You can do better than that.”

Smiling, she moved closer, but still kept a circumspect amount of daylight between them.

“And that’s as close as you’ll come? I’ve been closer to a nun.”

“Yes, in church,” she said.

“True enough,” he agreed.

They sat in companionable silence until Patrick asked, “So do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Don’t be pretending I don’t know you,” he admonished. “What is it that has you so quiet?”

He was right. The years apart didn’t seem to have changed a thing. “I don’t even want to say it aloud.”

“Well, now you’ve got me worried, so you have to.”

“I’m lonely,” she said, feeling better for even having made the confession. “And I don’t want to be lonely anymore.”

“You, lonely?”

“It is possible, you know.”

He shook his head. “If you’re lonely, it’s because you choose to be. Look at you. You’re a breathtaking woman who just so happens to have a bank balance that would stop most men’s hearts. If you want a man, smile once, and a pack will come running.”

“It’s not a man I’m lonely for,” she said.

Patrick gave her an odd look.

Laughing, she added, “It’s not a woman, either. And while I’d be a liar to tell you that I don’t miss the closeness of a man at night … or things as basic as sitting across the breakfast table from him, what I miss most right now is having connections. Clem didn’t have family, and as you know, mine cut me off when I took to the stage. I have no interest in going to them now, but I wish I’d had children.”

“It never happened for you?”

“No.”

Patrick sighed. “I’m sorry for that. I wish I could have wanted it when you did, but I had Jack to deal with, and he was a busy enough boy to earn all of his names.”

Flora smiled. “I remember. You did well. He’s a fine man.”

“That he is.” He nudged his top hat back a bit so that it no longer shadowed his face and then settled his arm across the back of the bench. “I know he’s grown and I should be bootin’ him out of my house … or houses,” he said, gesturing at a somewhat tired-looking villa across the street, just past the old stone tower by which they sat, “but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“I’d be the same way,” she said. “It’s not easy being alone, even with a houseful of servants.”

He looked at her, humor evident in his blue eyes. “So what do you say? Will you move a little closer to me? I might be feeling lonely, too.”

Flora laughed. “You’re as bold as ever.”

“Bolder, now that I’ve got no time left to waste.”

“And that is why I’m keeping my distance,” Flora replied.

He laughed.

“I’m quite serious, Patrick. You might talk me into coming too close. I can play at tennis and play at being a grand lady, but I can’t end up playing at being your sweetheart again.”

“You were my sweetheart,” he said calmly. “It was no game. If you’ll be remembering, you were my lover, too.”

She nodded. “I know. But while I might make an astounding variety of mistakes, I try not to make the same one twice.”

“And what made us a mistake?”

She’d spent a great deal of time lately thinking about past choices. “I expected you to be someone you’re not. I tried to push you into changing, when you’re as unmovable as that stone tower.”

Patrick chuckled. “You’ll note the tower’s top is gone. It’s done some moving in its years, whether it wanted to or not. I have, too. And neither of us is lookin’ any better for the wear.”

Flora had to laugh. “Don’t mine for compliments.”

“Then give them more freely,” he said.

She’d been about to offer one when Jack rounded the old stone tower. He stood with his back to them, each hand gripping a spear of the sharp wrought-iron fence that circled the structure’s arched base.

“Do you see who I do?” she asked Patrick.

“Aye,” he said. “And I don’t have to see my boy’s face to know he’s in a mood.” Patrick stood.

“Maybe you should just let him be alone with his thoughts?” she suggested.

“You know as well as I that thoughts can be cold company,” he said as he came to her and offered his hand.

Patrick had always been a smart man. Flora accepted his help and walked with him to see his son.

“So you’re doing some sightseeing, are you?” asked a familiar voice to Jack’s right.

Da had joined him, along with Flora. He said hello. Flora sounded somewhat hesitant as she returned the greeting. His dark mood must have worked its way to his face.

“I hired a personal secretary,” Jack said to his father, trying to keep the conversation far away from what bothered him.

Da cocked his head. “Which has what to do with this Norseman’s Tower?”

“It wasn’t built by Norsemen.” No matter what the name, even Jack’s untrained eye could tell the structure was too new. And while it might amuse Newporters to think that Europeans had first landed here, why would one half-ruined tower sit as the only marker?

“I’m just readin’ the sign,” Da said. “That one, and a few others, actually.”

Jack didn’t care to engage. “My secretary’s name is Fintan O’Toole and he’s from Dungloe, County Donegal.” Which should be enough to distract Da, he figured.

“And has he any experience?” Da asked, skipping right over the seed of home turf Jack had planted.

“None.”

Da laughed. “Of course not.”

“I’ve had Wilton give him a room.”

“Grand. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, would you care to talk about why you’re glaring at this heap of stones?”

“Patrick!” Flora said.

“I’ve told the boy I’ve got license to pry into his life, and so I’m prying,” his father replied.

“And doing a thorough job of it, too.” To Jack, she said, “Shall I step away and give you two your privacy?”

“No,” he replied. “You’re family. And you know what’s going on.”

“It’s Caroline, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I knew it,” Da nearly crowed. “You
are
sweet on her, aren’t you?”

“Caroline and sweet don’t belong in the same sentence,” Jack replied. Da should try Caroline and trouble. Or better yet, Caroline and disaster.

Flora settled her hand on Da’s shoulder. “I think we should continue our walk and let Jack have some time to himself.”

“Ha!” Jack shook his head. “Walks. Friends take walks all the damn time. Why not take a walk?”

“Have you been drinking, son?” Da asked after a silence.

“No.”

“I’m almost sorry to hear it.”

Jack let out a long, slow breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense. And I apologize for the rude language, Flora.”

“It’s quite all right,” she said. “Believe it or not, I’ve heard worse from your very own father.”

“I’m supposing there’s a chance of that,” Da admitted.

Jack gave a sketchy smile. “I’m taking leave of this place until my mood improves. I’ll be on the evening steamer to Providence.”

“So you’re off to the brewery there?” Da asked.

Jack nodded. “Work will help me clear my head. Da, would you take some time to get O’Toole started? I feel wrong, hiring him and walking out.”

“I’ll take care of him,” his father replied. “On the condition that you take care of yourself.”

*   *   *

CAROLINE SAT in Villa Blanca’s small library, doing her best to lose herself in an account of Commodore Matthew C. Perry’s skirmishes with Barbary pirates. She had thought that a little bloodshed might take her mind off love. She had been mistaken.

“I did not know that Percival Bremerton had died,” Peek said from the library door.

Caroline looked up from her book. “Wasn’t it in
Debrett’s
?”

“I hardly have the tome memorized,” the governess replied. “And your mother has not supplied me with the most recent year. Had she, I might have known by now.”

Caroline closed her book and paid attention. Peek was not one for small talk.

“I take it Percival was Lord Bremerton’s elder brother?” Caroline asked.

Peek came closer. “Yes. When everyone was in a lather about Lord Bremerton’s arrival, I had assumed that it was Percival, and that his wife had passed away. Bremerton men tend to outlive their women.”

“You knew Percival Bremerton, then?” Caroline asked after offering Peek a seat in the brocade-covered armchair opposite her, which the governess declined.

“I came to this house from employment with the Cavendishes, a West Sussex family who had moved to Belfast,” Peek said. “
Their
daughter married at age eighteen.”

“As a good girl should,” Caroline replied, feeling slightly affronted by the comment. Her skin was a little thin after having had a declaration of love met with all the lightness of a funeral dirge.

Peek disregarded her comment. “At which point, my services were no longer required. My prior employers, the Fitzhughs, resided at Beame Manor, also in West Sussex. They were related to the Woolseys.”

“This is beginning to sound frighteningly close to an entry in
Debrett’s.
Am I about to hear what charities and garden clubs the Fitzhughs involved themselves in?”

But Peek continued. “Lord Percival Bremerton’s home, Chesley House, was also in West Sussex.”

“There is no stopping you, is there?”

“I believe we share that in common,” Peek said. “Witness your running off at the Vandermeulen picnic today.”

Caroline preferred not to think about that. “So, about Lord Percival Bremerton living in West Sussex, which is beginning to sound quite crowded, by the way?”

“Lord Bremerton was married to a Woolsey. They socialized often at Beame Manor, as did Lord Bremerton’s family, though just from time to time.”

“I’m sure it was very pleasant.” Caroline was equally sure that Peek intended to torture her before reaching her point.

“For those who were there, yes. While both Viscount Bellingham and the Duke of Endsleigh would visit Lord and Lady Bremerton, it was well known that his only brother was
persona non grata
.”

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Caroline set the book aside. “They were estranged?”

“Yes,” Peek replied. “Permanently, I heard. And the brother, this current Lord Bremerton, was estranged from his grandfather, the duke, as well.”

Caroline smiled. “Really?”

“This is not a matter that should give rise to good spirits.”

“Ah, but it is,” Caroline said. “Thank you for the information.”

“You are quite welcome,” Peek replied. “Among my duties is to provide your family with any knowledge I might possess that could lead to a positive marital state for you. Unless the relationship between Lord Bremerton and his grandfather has mended, a definite shadow is cast upon Bremerton. The Duke of Endsleigh is a powerful man, and an advisor to Her Royal Highness.”

Caroline rose. “I must tell my mother at once.”

“That would be prudent,” Peek agreed.

Caroline was at the library door when Peek spoke again. “Do not mistake my sharing of this information as any sort of approval of the dalliance I believe you are having with Mr. Culhane. When you returned to the picnic, I saw you hiding the pearls you’d been wearing the night before. If that odd shepherd hadn’t detained me, I would have had you then. Once I have proof … and I
will
obtain it … I am honor bound to share it with your mother.”

Proof of something that no longer existed? Caroline wished her luck with that.

*   *   *

MAMA WAS in the war room, just where Caroline had expected to find her. Oddly, she still wore her blue silk afternoon dress, when it was well past the time to change into evening garb. Her mother had pulled up a chair—or more accurately, someone had pulled up a chair for her—to the library table. She was engrossed in whatever she was writing.

“Mama?”

Her mother looked up and briefly smiled. “I was just about to call for you. Come in, Caroline.”

Caroline moved to the opposite side of the table from her mother.

“Lord Bremerton and the Carstairs paid a call on me, earlier,” Mama said. “Bremerton asked when your father will be arriving in Newport. This is good news, indeed.”

“Why?” Caroline asked.

“If he’s asking for your father, I expect there’s a marriage proposal in the offing.”

“Simply because he asked when Papa will be here? That’s as far-fetched as Harriet thinking Jack Culhane is going to marry her because her father had a conversation with his.”

Mama took off her spectacles and focused on Caroline. “Harriet Vandermeulen thinks to marry Jack Culhane? Her father will never permit it. If he did any speaking, it was to tell Jack Culhane’s father that his son should set his sights lower.”