The Husband List

  He smiled. “And not surprisingly, you survived.”

  “I was trapped, all the same. I told her about the museum trip, but nothing about you. As punishment for straying, I’m now to be on display in Newport much earlier than I had steeled myself to be.”

  He smiled at her analogy. “Newport has its share of zoolike qualities.”

  “As does my life,” she said, her tone light. Then she sighed. “And while we might joke about this, I do have to warn you to stay out of Mama’s path … which means you need to stay out of mine.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but I like being in your path. It leads me to unexpected places.”

  “I’m going to start trying for more appropriate destinations,” she said.

  “Impossible.”

  Caroline laughed. “You do know me, don’t you?”

  “I’d say I’ve gotten to know you a lot better over the past twenty-four hours,” he replied.

  She stood silent. He knew they were both thinking of that kiss.

  “So why are you out here, Jack?” she eventually asked.

  “I had things to think about, so I walked. And you?”

  “I wanted to relish my last breaths of guaranteed freedom. We’re staying with one of Mama’s friends in Newport while Rosemeade is being improved. I don’t have set escape routes at Mrs. Longhorne’s.”

  “You’ll find them,” he said. And make her mother mad with worry once she did, too.

  “I’ll do my best,” she agreed.

  He inclined his head toward two deck chairs not under a direct spotlight. “Care to join me?”

  “Why not?” she said. “Mama is sound asleep, and the twins haven’t yet learned to take advantage of those times.”

  After they’d sat, Caroline asked, “Are you leaving the ship in Newport, too?”

  “Yes. My father seems to have landed a house there. I’m going to make it my base while I do some business in Providence.”

  “Ah! Is this part of your business expansion that Eddie mentioned the other night?”

  He couldn’t believe she recalled what had been no more than a passing reference, and that she sounded excited, too. “It is, but I won’t bore you with the details.”

  “Talk of embroidery stitches bores me, not business.” She edged around in her chair so she was facing him more directly. “You have no idea how difficult it is to induce a gentleman to speak to me about business.”

  She underestimated herself. For another of her haphazard kisses, he’d probably spill the ingredients to his Pennsylvania brewery’s best-selling ale.

  “I’m not surprised. Most of the men you meet don’t actually set foot anyplace more taxing than their yachting clubs,” he said aloud.

  “Which explains why their conversation is limited to the weather.” Caroline shook her head. “Why can’t we all be more direct?”

  Jack laughed. “I haven’t seen you be indirect.”

  “Much to my mother’s chagrin. But I am a bit of an oddity when compared to the other girls I know.”

  “You’re not an oddity. How about we just say you’re a rare bird?”

  She fell silent for a moment, then said, “Speaking of which, who was the woman you were with today?”

  Jack grinned. “That’s direct, all right. Flora Willoughby is a friend.”

  “I see,” Caroline said, sounding a little choked.

  “There’s no need to start tiptoeing now. I didn’t say she’s my mistress or lover, I said she’s my friend.”

  He took a moment to decide how much he should share with Caroline. She craved direct conversation, but she remained a pampered heiress. “Flora’s a retired actress. A number of years ago, she was also a flame of my father’s. I liked her. She was raised as the only daughter in a priviledged Chicago family, but disowned when she left to follow her own dreams of acting. She was an improbable mother figure, but she was the closest I’d had in a while.”

  “Your father introduced her to you?” Caroline asked, sounding as shocked as Jack expected.

  “Da is even less concerned with etiquette than I am,” he said. “But she never stayed under our roof, and he was never less than a gentleman toward her.” Jack looked into the darkness, then added, “Da wasn’t interested in marriage, though. Flora wasn’t willing to be less than his wife and so she moved on. She and I corresponded for a few years, but we lost touch. When we happened on each other earlier this afternoon, she told me she was recently widowed.”

  “She wore an unusual choice of mourning garb this evening,” Caroline said.

  Jack shrugged. “She’s always been colorful. Practical, too. It could be that she can’t afford a long mourning period.”

  “I understand,” Caroline eventually said.

  Jack supposed she did, too. While her family might shelter her, Caroline was curious. He was sure she’d seen enough of those thinly veiled items about actresses and their patrons in the newspaper.

  “I’m sure she’s a very nice woman,” Caroline said as she rose. “But I should get back to my room. I’d only intended to be out long enough to admire the stars.”

  Jack stood, too. He held out a hand to stop her. “Before you go, I want to make you an offer.”

  She tilted her head. “Really? Not of the marriage sort, I trust. You’re not on Mama’s list.”

  “Your mother has a list?” He shook his head. “Wait. Never mind. Of course she has a list.” And it was no doubt chiseled in stone, too. “But I’m offering honesty, not marriage.”

  She laughed. “Heaven knows in our set those two seldom seem to go together.”

  “Another reason for bachelorhood,” he said. “But I will promise to be your most honest friend. If you want to know something, ask. And I will not lie.”

  “Those are dangerous words, Jack Culhane.”

  Damn, but he liked this girl. “I know.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said.

  She held out her hand, and he took it. Her shake was warm and firm. And even if he wanted to draw her closer, he wasn’t going to.

  She stepped back. “It’s off to sleep for me.” But she hadn’t taken more than five steps before she turned back and added in a cheery voice, “And Jack, the next time I see you, be prepared to talk about kissing.”

  Jack was ready. Very ready.

  FIVE

  Caroline woke slowly, her delicious dream of venturing through a rich tropical forest replaced by watery morning light nudging at her eyelids. She closed her eyes more tightly. Reality could wait.

  “Miss, I know you’re awake,” said a voice indisputably that of Annie.

  Caroline gave up the battle and opened her eyes. Annie’s face hovered just above hers, wide blue-green eyes watching her intently.

  “What are you doing?” Caroline asked.

  The maid took a step back.

  “I was making certain you weren’t dead.”

  Caroline sat up. “Dead?”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Miss,” she said, sounding more amused than contrite. “But I knocked at the door as loudly as I dared without sending your mother into a temper, and then I got a key.” She waved the shiny brass room key.

  Caroline was going to ask Annie how she’d accomplished that feat, but the girl’s laughing smile shone as a testament to the fact that she could likely wheedle more than a key, should the need arise. How could one not respect such resourcefulness?

  “When I stepped in, I called your name and still you didn’t stir,” Annie said. “So I came close to check if you were still breathing. Good thing you were, too. It wouldn’t be easy, even for me, to talk myself into another position if you die when this is my first time being a lady’s maid.”

  She paused for an instant, another smile playing around her mouth. “I suppose yellow fever or a plague would be fine, but no mysterious dying, if you could please avoid it.”

  Caroline swung her feet to the floor, where her tapestry slippers awaited. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to avoid all three.”
br />   Now that she was fully awake, Caroline noted the actual daylight shining through the gap in the drapes covering the stateroom’s sole window.

  “Good heaven, where are we by now … Fall River?” she asked.

  “Just about to Newport,” Annie replied. “We stopped in the dead of night to help a six-man fishing dory that was sinking, so we’re running late. Your mother and sisters have been up for some time, though.”

  “Of course,” Caroline said as she quickly unwove her hair from its nighttime braid.

  Annie handed her the heavy, silver-backed brush from Caroline’s small travel case. Caroline whisked the brush though her hair. Mama was no doubt taking the ship’s delay personally, as she would Caroline’s being late.

  “I let you sleep, Miss. I thought what with you out walking past midnight, some extra rest wouldn’t hurt you.”

  Caroline stopped brushing. “You saw me?”

  “Yes. I was taking a stroll with a gentleman friend and saw you talking to Mister Culhane,” Annie said as she shook out the soft green morning dress she had brought for Caroline to wear. “It’s no one’s concern but yours … though it would be easier to keep it just your concern if I knew when I needed to keep that harpy Berta occupied.”

  Caroline smiled at the eerie-but-accurate image of Mama’s maid. Nothing made Berta happier than sinking her claws into a miscreant Maxwell daughter.

  With some corset help from Annie, Caroline dressed as quickly as a female smothered in layers of fabric could. Annie pinned Caroline’s hair haphazardly, but her broad-brimmed ivory-and-green hat would hide the mess. By the time Annie had packed the travel case and gone to join Berta to wait for the family’s trunks, the Plymouth was passing the harbor’s Long Wharf, where the shipbuilders worked. Its orderly row of clapboard buildings stood in sharp contrast to the wagons and men and supplies in a jumble in front of them.

  With the sun full up and a crisp east wind blowing, fishermen had long ago left the harbor. Still, there was activity enough for Caroline to soak in as they docked, except she knew she shouldn’t dally and annoy her mother.

  She rapped twice on Mama’s door before entering. Amelia and Helen were standing in front of Mama, who was inspecting them as though they were soldiers readying for war.

  “Good morning,” Caroline said.

  Her mother peered at her. “You’re looking pallid. As soon as we get to Mrs. Longhorne’s, you are to take a rest. We need you at your peak for the season.”

  Clearly, Caroline had not passed muster.

  “Now on we go,” Mama said, scooping up Pomeroy, who sat in his wicker travel basket. “We mustn’t keep Mildred waiting.”

  “What other engagements would Mrs. Longhorne have at six in the morning?” Helen asked.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” their mother replied while shooing her flock out the door.

  Passengers disembarking in Newport were hardly more than a handful. Most stayed aboard for Fall River and its connecting train to Boston. It was a simple matter to spot Jack about twenty yards away once they stood on the wharf. He was in his shirtsleeves and talking to a clutch of men bearing notebooks. One even held a camera. How curious, Caroline thought. Reporters chased after Vanderbilts and sometimes Maxwells, but never Culhanes.

  She paused to take in the scene. Jack’s hat was tipped at a rakish angle, and his smile made her want to smile, too. He glanced her way. Their gazes briefly met, and she did smile.

  “Caroline, come along,” Mama said. “Stop gawking at strangers.”

  “That’s Jack Culhane, Mama,” she replied. “He’s no stranger to us.”

  The photographer was clearing a small cluster of spectators to take Jack’s picture. He looked at ease, though not quite as happy with the situation as he had moments ago.

  “He is a stranger to you, if not Eddie,” Mama said. “You don’t know him well at all, nor should you. He has no coat on and he keeps inappropriate friends.”

  His lack of a morning coat was a bit odd, but hardly worth Mama’s censure. It was as Caroline had figured: Last night, her mother had not looked favorably upon Jack with Flora Willoughby.

  “Eddie isn’t all that horrible,” Caroline said, trying to tease Mama out of her poor mood.

  “Don’t be impertinent,” Caroline’s mother replied. “You know I wasn’t referring to Eddie.”

  Caroline’s father would have laughed at Caroline’s silly comment. For that matter, only a few years ago Mama would have, too.

  Just then, Jack approached. His good humor had returned.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Maxwell,” he said.

  Mama made a harrumphing sound no one could interpret as a hello. Jack’s smile did not fade. Instead it grew broader.

  “Caroline, Amelia, and Helen, it’s a pleasure to see you, too,” he added.

  The twins responded courteously, though Amelia was actually rather impolitely staring at Jack.

  “Good morning, Mister Culhane,” Caroline said. “Did you have a pleasant voyage?”

  “It was an adventure,” he said.

  Caroline nodded absently. She had just noticed that his sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. She’d never seen even his forearms bare since they’d been youngsters. His arms were strong and the skin as tanned as his face, as though he’d spent time in the tropics she’d been dreaming of this morning. Her fingers twitched with the desire to feel the firm tautness of his skin. She clasped one hand over the other to stop herself.

  “Did you truly help rescue those poor sailors last night?” Amelia asked Jack. “I heard a crewman talking of it as we lined up to leave the ship.”

  “I pitched in a hand,” Jack replied. “And my spare clothes once we had the four we could find aboard.”

  “But I heard you did more than that. The man was saying that you spotted the men and saved their lives,” Amelia said. “I think you might be a hero, Mr. Culhane.”

  “I’m nothing of the sort,” he said, softening his words with a smile.

  Caroline glanced at her mother to see how she might take this self-deprecation. It seemed, however, that his good manners had bounced right off her.

  Frowning, Mama said, “We must be moving along.”

  “Of course. I apologize for delaying you and look forward to seeing all of you again this season,” Jack said.

  “That is quite unlikely. We will not be entertaining,” Mama proclaimed, as though a lie would settle the matter.

  Jack grinned. “Really? I always find you entertaining, Mrs. Maxwell.”

  Caroline hid her laughter with a cough. And with a tip of his hat, Jack was gone.

  Once they were settled in the Longhornes’ carriage, Mama didn’t speak again, choosing instead to scowl at Caroline from her perch opposite her. The twins ably filled the silence. On Bridge Street they speculated about the precise number of picnics and galas they would attend over the summer. Once the carriage turned south on Thames and into the shopping district, their talk moved to who sold the best chocolates in Newport and whether they might come back later in the day to sample some.

  At Church Street they were on to who had the finer singing voice. Caroline looked out the window at Trinity Church, with its white spire pointing the way to heaven. Her concept of paradise was something more immediate: a book and a blanket beneath a tree, where she might read in peace. Or better yet, no book, but Jack at her side. Caroline sighed at the thought.

  Mama’s scowl turned into a glare. “Do not make the mistake of thinking I will tolerate another summer like last, Caroline. You must get control of yourself.”

  “I agree,” Caroline replied. Of course she gave those words a different meaning from the one her mother had intended.

  Once they had turned east off Belleville Avenue and onto Bath Road, the bustle of the commercial area gave way to quiet. Buildings no longer stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Rolling lawns, elaborate entry gates, and cottages that could house a hundred took over the landscape. In a matter of minutes, they had turned
onto a private lane that led to the Longhorne family estate.

  Villa Blanca might not be so large and grand as Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt’s Marble House, just a handful of mansions away, but Mrs. Longhorne had hardly gone short on marble, either. Villa Blanca’s three stories and two angled wings glowed ethereally white as the sun cut through the mist hovering above the house’s smooth green lawns. It was perhaps the most lovely jail Caroline had ever seen. She would not bother pretending that it was intended to be otherwise for her.

  Once they were up the broad—and, naturally, marble—steps, a footman in ornate livery opened the front door. Just inside, Mrs. Longhorne’s Italian butler announced in charmingly accented English that Mrs. Longhorne would be found in the Blue Seaside Salon. Since there was also a Green Seaside Salon, the distinction was necessary.

  With the butler ushering the way, Caroline and her sisters followed Mama and her little dog like silk-and-lace-garbed ducklings into the salon, in which someone—likely not Mrs. Longhorne—had shown an admirable restraint in the placement of decorations so that the view of the ocean was the room’s focus.

  Mildred greeted Mama with four excited words. “Agnes, a costume ball!”

  “A costume ball?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, you must have one,” Mrs. Longhorne said. “It’s early enough in the season that no one has said a word of holding one. If you let your plans be public, no one else will, for they’ll know they cannot outdo you. What better way to show Bremerton what he will be gaining by marrying Caroline?”

  Mama nodded excitedly. “Mildred, you’re right! There is no better way!”

  A desperate sort of humor overtook Caroline.

  “We could always set out the three-hundred-piece gold dinner service,” she suggested. “Or better yet, strap it to me with a diamond chain or two so the message is clear. I will clank and rattle behind him wherever he goes.”

  Mama, who was pulling off her gloves, turned to face her. “Did you not listen to me in the carriage? This is your future, Caroline, and it’s one any healthy girl would embrace. I am becoming convinced that you are unwell.”

  “We will get you settled into your room in just a few minutes, dear,” Mrs. Longhorne said to Caroline. “And until then, do sit.” She made a shooing motion toward a fat, sapphire blue chair that was positioned to give an angled view of both the lawns and ocean and the room itself.