The Husband List

  He did not return it. Perhaps that was because he was too occupied taking inventory of her, right down to the pearls sewn onto her dress’s bodice. Whatever his opinion was, he kept it well hidden.

  Thunder rumbled, but the storm had not yet broken in here. It would, though. Caroline quickly finished the last of her drink and accepted a replacement as Mama and Mrs. Longhorne said hello to Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs. Then Mama turned her attention to Lord Bremerton.

  “Is there anything less formal than Lord Bremerton that we may call you?” she asked.

  He stopped sizing up Caroline.

  “You may call me sir,” he said to her mother.

  A brief silence fell, broken when the Carstairs began laughing. Mama and Mrs. Longhorne joined in, though they didn’t look as though they had any idea what might be funny.

  “Our guest has a deliciously dry sense of humor,” Lurene Carstairs said.

  Bremerton did not smile.

  “My given name is Marcus,” he said. “But I prefer to be addressed as Bremerton when I am among my friends.”

  Mama nodded happily, but Caroline had read his distant expression and heard his words for what they were. Other than the Carstairs, the Englishman did not count anyone in this room among his friends. Nor did he look interested in changing that situation, which was just fine. Caroline had made up her mind, too. Bremerton would not be in her life at all.

  * * *

  “DID YOU really have to give the butler your full name?” Eddie asked Jack as they stood just outside Villa Blanca’s dining room. “We’re late as it is.”

  “The only reason we’re late is because you got caught up in the money search with my father,” Jack pointed out.

  “It was pouring. No point in leaving your house until it let up,” Eddie replied. “And I now have a two hundred dollar finder’s fee from your father. Not bad for an hour’s work.”

  The money should have been Wilton’s, who was going to have to put the library back in order now that the men had found the cache Da had suspected was there. Jack would make up for that in Wilton’s next pay. Da, who could be tight-fisted, would not think of it.

  “Mr. Edward Maxwell and Mr. John William Anthony Patrick Xavier Culhane,” the butler announced to the other guests, who were readying to take their seats.

  “He got it out in one breath,” Jack said to Eddie as they stepped into the room. “Impressive.”

  “Better than most,” Eddie replied.

  They made their way to the long dining table, an over-fancy work of art that appeared to have been inlaid with alabaster and ebony. The south end of it had been laden with silver, crystal, and china for the small dinner party. Helen and Amelia, who hovered nervously near Bill and Lurene Carstairs, looked as though they wanted to disappear. Mildred Longhorne was as fidgety as usual, and Agnes Maxwell as commanding. But Caroline … she was breathtaking in a pale blue dress. Her dark hair was piled high, and around her throat was a pearl choker. Jack imagined himself removing it and tasting the skin beneath.

  Eddie nudged him forward. Jack tried to refocus, but looking away from Caroline was no easy task. She was as electric as the storm that had just passed overhead. At the moment, she was speaking to a man Jack didn’t recognize. The gentleman’s back was to him, or Jack would have warned him off. Caroline appeared ready to hurl a thunderbolt his way.

  Eddie and he moved on to greet Eddie’s mother, who gave Jack the cross frown she seemed to save just for him. Mrs. Longhorne was far less annoyed by his presence.

  “Come meet our guest of honor,” she said, urging them in Caroline’s direction.

  “If you don’t mind my interrupting, sir?” she said to the man with Caroline. “I would like to introduce you to Caroline’s brother, Edward, and the Maxwells’ family friend, Jack Culhane. Gentlemen, this is Lord Bremerton.”

  So the almost duke had arrived.

  Jack kept his face empty of emotion, which was good work, considering the sudden surge of something close to anger rising in him. He didn’t like the feeling or understand where the hell it had come from. And he refused to let it show, especially in front of an Englishman who looked cool enough to have arrived in Newport packed in ice.

  Eddie held out his hand to shake Bremerton’s, but the man inclined his head instead of accepting the handshake. Eddie’s color rose.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jack said to the Englishman while keeping his hands at his sides.

  “And you,” Bremerton replied with an equal amount of insincerity.

  Caroline was going to have to stay close to a heat source if married to this man. It was that or freeze. Jack gave her a quick glance. Then again, maybe he didn’t need to be concerned on her behalf. Her color was brighter than Eddie’s. She held out her champagne glass to a passing servant. When he replaced it with a full one, she tossed back half of that in a swallow. Jack smiled. It might turn out to be a long dinner, but it would not be a dull one. He signaled for a drink of his own and waited for the show to begin.

  Perhaps a third glass of champagne so quickly had been excessive, Caroline thought. But a fuzzy sort of numbness had seemed a more diplomatic option than asking the Englishman to stop looking at her as though she were an unappetizing meal that he nonetheless planned to consume. She dared a glance at Jack as she took another sip of wine. He, too, was watching her, but amusement—and even possibly some sympathy—warmed his eyes. Small wonder she wanted him as much as she did, even though he didn’t have a sloop waiting offshore.

  As Caroline thought of a means of escape, the night marched forward. Royal blue–clad footmen entered the room single file and stood behind each of the massive dining chairs, waiting to move them for their occupants. Mrs. Longhorne told her guests where they would be sitting, though Caroline was sure all had read the seating cards, each of which rested on the back of a golden swan.

  The Englishman offered his arm to escort her to her place.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Her first step was a bit off since all champagne and no food made for a wobbly heiress. Bremerton pretended not to notice, but Caroline could almost hear the scratch of pen against paper as he marked this point against her. This, however, was not grounds for optimism. It would take a great many points to remove the allure of her great many dollars.

  Once everyone was at the table, Caroline noted Mama’s careful control of the seating arrangements. Lord Bremerton had Amelia to his left. Given the way she stared fixedly at the silver charger plate in front of her, Mama had probably told her that she was not to speak, so that Caroline could occupy the guest of honor’s attention. Helen must have taken a vow of silence, too. She was seated across from the Englishman, and gazed somewhere past his left shoulder. Eddie had engaged Mama and the Carstairs, who were raptly listening to a description of his newest polo pony. At the head of the table, Mrs. Longhorne had Jack occupied, asking him about his recent brave rescue at sea. Caroline was left nothing to do but talk to Bremerton.

  “Lord Bremerton, have you been in America long?” she asked.

  “Not very,” he said, brushing at a lint speck on the edge of his shirt’s white linen cuff.

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t seem to be inclined to do so.

  “Other than Newport, where have you visited?”

  “New York City,” he replied in a clipped tone.

  “And what did you think of the city?”

  “It served its purposes.”

  All told, Caroline didn’t want to know what those purposes might be.

  “Are you fond of travel?” she ventured instead.

  “Not particularly,” he replied. “What could the rest of the world offer that England cannot?”

  “An American heiress, apparently,” she said, done with trying for polite conversation.

  His mouth briefly bent in what could have been either his stingy version of a smile or a wince. He made no comment, though.

  Waiters appea
red with the first course—roasted oysters in sherry cream sauce, a dish that was her least favorite. Caroline didn’t pick up her fork. Jack hadn’t picked up his, either. Their eyes met. He gave a smiling shake of his head and mouthed two words: chocolate cake. For the first time since meeting Bremerton, Caroline felt completely in control.

  When Bremerton was done with his oysters, he leaned closer to her and said, “After the meal, perhaps we could take a stroll?”

  “I am sure Mrs. Longhorne has entertainment,” Caroline said. “I doubt you’d want to miss it.”

  “And I am sure that they will forge on without us.”

  Caroline didn’t need to look at her mother to know she was being watched. Mama’s scrutiny made the air thick.

  “A stroll would be lovely,” Caroline said, and her mother dropped her gaze.

  Control, it seemed, was as difficult to obtain as chocolate cake.

  * * *

  THE ANTIQUE gilt ormolu clock on the dining room fireplace’s mantel had just chimed half-past ten when Mrs. Longhorne suggested that the guests retire to Green Seaside Salon. She had arranged for a local theatrical group to perform selections from Gilbert and Sullivan’s works.

  “Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer some light opera to a walk?” Caroline asked Bremerton.

  She knew she would, for she was tired of being subjected to his dramatic silences. He had a way of imposing his will on the room while saying nothing at all. And the more her champagne had worn off, the glummer she’d felt. Only Jack had seemed unaffected by Bremerton’s brooding ways.

  “I find Savoy Opera as unsatisfying as sugar,” Bremerton said.

  The Englishman had not touched his dessert, another reason Caroline found him suspect. But she was resigned to at least this small portion of her fate.

  “Mrs. Longhorne, Lord Bremerton has asked to walk the grounds. I hope you don’t mind if we do that rather than join you?” she asked their hostess.

  Mama’s friend was, of course, thrilled to be incubating the match of the year.

  “Riccardi, please be sure that the electric lights on the back of the house are lit,” she instructed her butler, who then murmured something to a footman.

  Once Bremerton and she were outside, stars twinkled overhead and the sound of the surf meeting the shore filled the uncomfortable silence that the Englishman seemed to prefer.

  “Shall we walk?” Caroline asked.

  “I find the view from the terrace sufficient,” he replied.

  In the spirit of equality, Caroline decided to indulge in some of his silence. She would not speak unless he directly solicited comment. He stood silent while she gazed out past the flood of light on the lawn and into the darkness beyond.

  “I sense that you are not a woman who wishes for poetry and romance,” Bremerton eventually said.

  She nodded since it was true insofar as it pertained to him. She’d dearly love some romance from Jack, though she couldn’t imagine him spouting a sonnet.

  “We have that in common, then,” Bremerton said. “And you are also aware that I am here for a wife, correct?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Though it seems a long way to travel.”

  “Virtually every time a debutante crosses the ocean, she has done so for the same reason,” he replied. “You did last season, though without success.”

  She turned to look directly at him. “You know that I was in England?”

  “I am a thorough man. I did not arrive unprepared. I even heard a tale about you giving a Wild West show, complete with a six-shooter. Apparently, you nearly missed hitting the Duke of Perryton.”

  Caroline felt compelled to defend her marksmanship. “One shot went slightly astray, but it never endangered the duke. He’s skittish.”

  “And he is no friend of the Prince of Wales, either. I hear His Royal Highness declared you an ‘American original and sweetly dangerous’ after the incident.”

  “Unfortunately,” Caroline said.

  Bremerton nodded. “I understand your chagrin. Many find the Marlborough House Set unseemly. But I find it is better to have no opinion at all.”

  “I should be clearer with my comments,” Caroline said. “I don’t care what the prince’s group thinks of me, or the queen’s more conservative friends, for that matter. My aim was and is to dissuade all gentlemen from courting me.”

  “That is a naïve and unattainable goal.”

  “I succeeded last year,” she pointed out.

  He shrugged. “You shot your way to a reprieve. You might not wish to marry, but you must do so to elevate your family’s social stature.”

  “Hardly,” Caroline replied, trying not to let his slight sting. “The Maxwells are now on their fourth generation in New York society.”

  “Exactly my point. I shall be the fourteenth Duke of Ends-leigh when my time arrives. Your family can benefit from my name.”

  “And you can benefit from my dowry,” she said flatly. “Why else would you be here?”

  Caroline was certain she saw a muscle twitch in Bremerton’s narrow jaw. His eyes went a shade more toward steel. “You sound disappointed,” he said. “Perhaps you seek romance after all.”

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin and tipped her face upward. His skin was cold and his touch made her uncomfortable. His posture was meant to intimidate her, but she did not step away. If she didn’t possess courage at the moment, she could at least pretend to.

  “Lovely, and definitely quite naïve,” he said before letting his hand drop.

  “Is it so wrong to wish for happiness?” Caroline asked, still not allowing herself to take that step backward.

  “Romantic happiness is a peculiarly American desire.”

  Caroline doubted that, but she would not argue the point. “Then I’m thankful that we Maxwells are American.”

  “Do you believe your family would accept it if you fell in love with a fishmonger? Or even with that rough-looking Irishman inside, the one with the absurd number of names for a commoner?”

  If Caroline began to doubt about her parents’ wishes for her true happiness, she would be lost. “Yes, they would accept it.”

  She’d kept up a bold front but knew he’d caught her hesitation.

  “If that’s the thought that comforts you, most definitely cling to it,” he said. “But your reality will be what it is. You are the most suitable heiress for my needs. And I am the most suitable potential spouse for your family’s wants. We both know that if I should ask for your hand, it will be given.”

  Caroline stepped back, but not in retreat. She squared her shoulders and readied to exercise another peculiarly American concept: Freedom. She might not have it long, but she would have it in abundance while she did.

  “Lord Bremerton, I believe I will finish this walk alone.”

  TEN

  Agnes Maxwell was losing her composure in front of her guests. That didn’t happen any more frequently than Halley’s Comet came around, so Jack had paid attention to the event. He’d noted the way she’d frantically waved her fussy silk-and-feather fan while the theatrical troop had sung the finale from H.M.S. Pinafore. The song’s lyrics about joy and rapture didn’t seem to have helped her outlook. The entertainment had since departed and talk was dying down, but her cheeks remained a fiery red. A truant daughter could do that to a mother.

  “It has been a lovely evening, but we must be on our way,” Lurene Carstairs said to Mrs. Longhorne.

  “Perhaps just a moment longer?” Agnes asked. “I’m sure Caroline will be right back.”

  Jack knew better. When the almost duke had come inside and announced that Caroline wished for more air, Jack had known she was gone. He would have done the same.

  “We’re sorry to miss her, but this is Bremerton’s first night in Newport. We must have him well rested for a victory on the polo field tomorrow,” Lurene said. “He’ll be playing with William’s team while he is here.”

  “Of course,” Mildred said while Agnes fanned herself
again.

  “This is not like Caroline at all,” Agnes said to the guest of honor as he donned his hat.

  Jack wanted to laugh. This was exactly like her.

  The Englishman and his hosts departed. The twins then scurried out of the room after them like forest creatures fleeing a fire. It was a wise choice, considering their mother’s mood. Jack stood to leave, but Eddie held out a hand, motioning for him to stay.

  “Edward, you must go find your sister,” Agnes ordered her son, who was busy filling two snifters with cognac. “Bring her here immediately.”

  “Don’t worry, Mother. She’ll return on her own. I’m sure she was just waiting for Lord Bremerton to leave,” Eddie said in reassuring tones.

  Agnes’s color surged. “I am not worried. I am upset! How could she do this to me? My nerves cannot take any more of this rebellion from her. Go find her and make her come inside at once.”

  “Care to help me?” Eddie said as he handed Jack a snifter.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jack said as he rose.

  “Hurry along, then,” Eddie’s mother said. “I shall be in my room, attempting to calm my heart. I am having horrible palpitations. Tell Caroline I will summon her when I am ready to speak to her.”

  She turned heel and left the room with a worried-looking Mildred Longhorne trailing behind her.

  “Have a seat,” Eddie said once the room was empty of drama. “We both know Caroline’s out there lurking in the shrubbery, just as she did when she used to follow us around.”

  “She’s probably improved her espionage tactics since then,” Jack replied as he took a chair opposite Eddie and relaxed.

  A cool breeze rolled in off the ocean and through the open windows, smelling of salt and spent storm. All in all, the evening had proved more entertaining than sitting home with Da and a bottle of whiskey.

  “So what did you think of the Englishman?” Eddie asked Jack.