Flora laughed. “You might never know when that might come in handy.”
“As soon as she marries her almost duke,” Jack said.
Caroline stopped and looked back at him. “I’d be careful with that talk of marriage if I were you, Jack. You could be the first to fall.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“How do you feel about a winter wedding?”
“I feel that it has nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe we should bet on who marries first,” Caroline said.
“Heiresses do not gamble.”
Caroline laughed. “Who told you that?”
Flora released Caroline’s arm. “Well, here we are, almost back at the cottage.” She feigned a yawn. “I’ve had a long day. Jack, may I trust you to see Caroline safely back to the Longhornes’?”
“Of course, but let me walk you to your door,” he said.
“I doubt I’ll be waylaid by thieves and brigands between here and there. I’ll leave you two to do your arguing … or your courting … all on your own.”
Courting? If this was courting, Jack would be a bachelor for life.
EIGHT
Caroline floated on a wave of excitement as intoxicating as her favorite champagne. She had knocked tough Jack off-balance again, and she’d accomplished that only a few times in her life. She breathed in the sweet night air—and her happiness—as Jack watched Flora make her way to her summer cottage.
Caroline might not fully understand the friendship those two shared, but she appreciated Jack’s loyalty toward Flora. And even his protectiveness, though Caroline had never met a woman more capable of guiding her own affairs—likely even literally—than Mrs. Willoughby.
Flora slipped inside The Reefs. Now it was just the two of them.
Caroline said the first thing that came to mind. “Have you missed me, Jack?”
He stood silent for a moment. “It’s been less than two days since we last saw each other.”
“True, but that doesn’t answer the question I asked.”
He held out his arm. “Let’s get you back to Villa Blanca before you’re caught wandering in the night by your hawk of a mother.”
She took his arm and nearly shivered at the contact. Perhaps she’d been too hasty this morning when thinking she preferred chilly marble nudes over warm, flesh-and-sinew men. Or at least this particular man. But if she continued to think of Jack in such terms, she would knock herself off-balance.
“I was not wandering,” she said firmly. “I was taking an invigorating walk. And you still have not answered my question. Have you missed me?”
He laughed. “You should be a lawyer. You’re relentless.”
“I will consider that a compliment.”
“It was meant as one, though I’d rather see that relentlessness turned on someone other than me.”
“But I can only share it with you. I would frighten others.”
“You sound as though you enjoy that thought,” he said.
The humor in his voice made her smile.
“I do. Very much,” she replied as they headed back to the pathway that threaded along the coastline toward Villa Blanca. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to be myself … not to have to remember that a well-behaved heiress must not possess a contentious bone in her body. Or that a well-behaved heiress must always defer to the gentleman. His preferences must become hers.”
“What are your preferences?”
Other than when it came to her choice of sugar or not at a tea, she couldn’t recall having been asked that question. Caroline considered her list.
“French champagne, Greek philosophers, and American men. And I am not alone in the preference for American men,” she added.
“Meaning?”
“I had a most informative morning with Harriet Vandermeulen. It seems she has you scheduled as the groom in a December wedding.”
His pace did not falter. “Me?”
“Yes, you. And as you know, Harriet can be quite relentless, too.”
“She’ll have to be more than relentless. It will take a gun aimed at me to get me to the altar.”
“I would not discount the possibility,” she replied. “Harriet has made up her mind. She has already selected the flowers, the church, and the date. Being quite driven in her goal, perhaps she has selected a gun, as well.”
Caroline had tried to keep her voice light, but she knew she’d failed.
Jack stopped. “I sense that Harriet’s plans annoy you as much as they amuse me. Why is that, Caroline?”
She tensed. She could hardly admit the truth—that she was in love with him. Much as she preferred honesty, saying those words to Jack Culhane would have the same effect on her dreams of romance as flinging herself off the cliff upon which they now stood.
She urged him along in their walk. “Perhaps I find it wrong-headed that she should be fighting for marriage as strongly as I fight against it. She doesn’t know you beyond the fact that you’re a minor hero, and yet she wants to spend her life with you. It’s madness.”
He laughed. “Tangled up in there somewhere is a blow to my pride … and I’m not talking about the minor hero comment. I’m not in the mood to untangle, though. It’s exercise enough to keep pace with you.”
Caroline realized she’d begun to march at a very soldierly clip. She slowed, even if Jack had not been referring to her gait. Now that her frustration had been freed, she was in no hurry to return to Villa Blanca.
“There was no insult intended, just amazement at young women such as Harriet who are so fixed on marriage,” she said.
“Why amazement? It is what she was raised to expect.”
“Then it is time for Harriet to expand her expectations.”
“Not all women have your talent for individuality, Caroline. And many men will find that good news.”
He was smiling. She knew that without looking at him. And she would not look at him.
In the distance to her left stood the massive cottage being erected by Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt II. It sat as dark and silent as the stones being used to create it. As she and Jack walked past, the music tumbling over the air from the Forty Steps became more distinct. The song was a merry jig, enviably far from the elegant Newport-style quadrille that Mama believed was the sole acceptable dance for Caroline.
“This music reminds me of my father,” Jack said. “Were he to come to Newport, which he won’t because he considers it a colossal waste of time, he’d be here, listening.”
“I have never met your father,” Caroline commented as they rounded the bend and the celebration came into view.
“Da has no use for society.”
The fiddlers had just finished up the jig. Couples and groups of giggling females stood in the light cast by a dozen and more lanterns. In some ways, the scene was not so different from the parties she attended. But the atmosphere seemed happier … at least to Caroline.
She slowed even more as the music resumed. The musicians had chosen a sweeping and dreamy waltz.
“Let’s watch,” she said to Jack.
Jack stopped. Caroline could have released his arm and stepped away, but she didn’t. She wanted to dance. However, while her advanced individuality would permit stealing the occasional kiss, it would not brook asking for a waltz. As wrong-headed as that might be, Jack would have to ask her. And as wrong-headed as he could be, the blasted man probably never would.
* * *
JACK SHOULD have known that Caroline was a romantic. After all, in her parents’ conservatory she had talked about a burning, forever-type passion. Those had been the words of a romantic, even if he’d chosen not to listen too carefully.
“The music is lovely,” Caroline said. Her voice, of course, was romantically wistful as she swayed in time to the melody.
Jack believed in maintaining a distance from romantics. They were dangerous. Male or female, romantics committed rash acts in the name of whatever their particular passion might be. And he’d co
nsidered Caroline dangerous enough already.
He gave her a slightly bored-sounding “it’s decent” that should have stopped her cold.
“If you think it’s just decent, you need to develop your ear,” Caroline said. “Perhaps if you didn’t bolt from ballrooms as though the house was about to come tumbling down, you’d have a greater appreciation.”
“I have appreciation enough.”
“If you say so,” she replied in the same slightly bored tone he’d tried out on her.
When he stayed silent, she began humming along with the tune. Jack tried to disregard her, but it was impossible. He apparently harbored a soft spot for this particular romantic.
“Would you like to dance?” he finally asked.
“Well, of course I would. What woman would not?”
“A practical one,” he said.
“Practicality and a moonlit night do not mix,” she said as he took her in his arms. “And what is so impractical about a dance?”
“Everything.”
She hushed him. “Just dance. We’ll be practical later.”
Her idea had merit, and one dance would not make him into a romantic.
Then one waltz became two.
Jack liked the feel of her narrow waist beneath his hand and the way her warmth made him want to pull her closer. He assured himself that this did not make him a romantic. He was a man with a pulse.
The musicians stopped. Caroline drew a sharp breath.
“It’s Peek,” she said.
“Who?”
“Peek. My governess. Did you not listen when Flora and I were talking?”
“As little as humanly possible.”
They had danced closer to the gathering, but not so close as to be part of it. He focused his attention on the women in the group. “Which one is she?”
“The tallest one on the fringes of the crowd,” she said in a low voice.
“The one who just turned this way?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” Caroline said before ducking behind him. When he tried to turn to face her, she whispered, “Stay where you are. Is she coming this way?”
“Yes.”
Caroline held on to the back of his jacket. “We must leave. This is not the time or place to determine if she’s my friend or foe.”
He took a step toward the group, intending to bypass them and get back on the Cliff Walk.
“Not that way,” Caroline said. “If she hasn’t seen me yet, I don’t want her to.”
That left them a mad dash across the grounds of the Robert Goelet cottage. And if they were caught, Caroline would have greater problems than a nosy governess.
“Hel-loo?” called a crisp British voice. “Might I have a word with you, sir and madam?”
“Now!” Caroline whispered.
Jack doubted her sanity, but that was all the more reason to humor her. He took her hand and they began a dimly lit march across the lawn.
“Sir? Really, sir, you are quite exasperating me!” called the governess Peek, who had also opted for the overland route.
“Disregard,” Caroline commanded Jack. “And more quickly, please.”
He lengthened his stride, and she broke into a run.
“This is absurd!” Peek called. “Miss Maxwell, if that is you, I shall know the moment I return to Villa Blanca.”
But Peek gave up the chase.
“This way,” Jack said.
They cut around to the side of the house facing inland. No light shone from inside the brick-and-shingle structure. Newport’s idle rich didn’t tend to be all that idle. The Goelets were either at the same ball as Caroline’s mother or abroad.
And Caroline was almost breathless.
“Are you feeling faint?” he asked.
“If I had the time to be, yes. Men should have to run in corsets, too,” she replied between ragged breaths. But for all that, she seemed cheerful.
“Your only chance to avoid this Peek person is to go toward the carriage house,” he said. “There has to be a gate leading onto Narragansett Avenue. Head to the Cliff Walk. You won’t make it to Villa Blanca before Peek if you try to follow the streets. I’ll keep her occupied.”
“How?”
“With words.”
Caroline gave him a hard-and-fast hug. “Thank you!”
And then she was gone.
Jack quickly returned to the gathering at the top of the Forty Steps. Peek had cornered Caroline’s maid. Jack wasn’t worried. The little redhead had already struck him as independent enough to hold her own in any skirmish.
“Good evening,” he said to Peek once he’d closed the gap between them. “Were you calling to me a few minutes ago?”
“I was,” she replied in a disapproving tone.
“I am sorry I didn’t acknowledge you immediately, but it was a matter of discretion, ma’am,” he said. “I am sure you can appreciate that.”
“I appreciate proper manners far more,” Peek responded.
Jack aimed for a courtly bow. “And I indeed apologize. My name is Jack Culhane. May I have the honor of your acquaintance?”
“My name is Miss Peek. I am very recently in the employ of the Maxwell family of New York City and Newport.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Peek.”
She didn’t offer a return pleasantry, so Jack kept talking.
“The lady who was with me when you called out is a governess for young Beatrice Goelet. I needed to return my friend to the house before she was seen with me,” he said.
“Really?” Peek asked. “And why would that be an issue?”
Caroline’s maid coughed repeatedly. When he looked her way, she shook her head, but he couldn’t decipher the warning she tried to offer.
“The Goelets do not approve of their servants mixing with their compatriots,” he said to Miss Peek. “As a member of a number of the same clubs as the Goelets, I happen to be one. She would lose her position if we were discovered.”
“As it should be,” Miss Peek sniffed. “Such interactions are unacceptable in any civilized culture.”
The iron Peek was not about charm or equality. But Jack had chosen his course and he’d stick to it long enough to give Caroline a running start.
“One cannot fight love, Miss Peek,” he said.
“One most certainly can and should. And I highly doubt that a man of your professed social status could love a governess.”
“Ah, but she is a very special governess,” Jack replied before casting a glance toward the Cliff Walk. Caroline was darting north to Villa Blanca.
“How so, Mr. Culhane?”
He added a dash of status to his tale, since Peek seemed to be a bigger snob than most. “Her family is French nobility, though recently impoverished.”
“The French. Feckless lot,” Miss Peek said down her long nose. This was not an endearing trait.
Buying time, Jack looked to Caroline’s maid. “How about you, miss? Do you believe a man should turn his back on love?”
“Oh, never, Mister Culhane,” she said. “It’s up to each of us to do everything possible to encourage true love. And if by chance you have a brother, I would be glad to make his acquaintance.”
“No brothers, I’m afraid, Miss…”
She made a sketch of a curtsey. “Campbell. Annie Campbell. I am lady’s maid to Miss Caroline Maxwell. And I know all about you, Mr. Culhane, from that article in the newspaper when you rescued the fishermen. Miss Peek just arrived today. She does not know she is talking to a genuine hero.”
In this one instance, he’d happily use his so-called heroism. “Thank you, Miss Campbell.”
Jack refocused on Caroline’s governess. “Now, Miss Peek, was there some reason in particular you wished to speak to me?”
“I was under the impression that your companion tonight was the young lady under my charge.”
“You think Mister Culhane was with Miss Maxwell?” Annie asked. “That’s impossible, Miss Peek. Before I left for my evening off, she
had me bring her a packet of headache powder and was in her room for the night. She said something about her mind spinning with knights and earls.”
“Possibly true,” Miss Peek said grudgingly.
“I have no reason to lie. If I did and lost my job, I’d land back home with my parents. That’s reason enough for me to be honest. I love my mother and father, but—”
“That will be enough, Miss Campbell,” Peek decreed. “I have no interest whatsoever in your familial circumstances. We are conversing solely because I believed I saw Miss Maxwell. But because Mr. Culhane is a gentleman…” She trailed off, clearly expressing her skepticism. “… I shall take his word that his companion was a governess.”
Jack had stretched the conversation as far as he could. “That’s generous of you, Miss Peek.”
She nodded. “And now I shall commence my evening constitutional as I had planned.”
Annie heaved a sigh of relief when Miss Peek headed south. “That was a close call. I think I’ll be having a few more of those while working for Miss Maxwell.”
Closer to one a night, Jack thought. And he was amused by the idea until an unsettling realization set in. Maybe he was a romantic, too.
* * *
ON SATURDAY morning, Caroline’s mother used her fork to flick her breakfast about her plate as though the food repelled her. Since Mrs. Longhorne’s chef was among the very best, the airy cheese soufflé with accompanying fresh fruit was not the issue. Caroline glanced at Mrs. Longhorne to see if she might shed some light on Mama’s mood, but Mama’s friend was doing her best to make no eye contact. Amelia and Helen seemed oblivious to the raincloud over the table, cheerily making short work of their breakfasts.
“We will be having a dinner party here at Villa Blanca on Tuesday,” Mama said without showing any of her usual joy over a social event.
“A dinner party sounds quite nice,” Caroline replied. Politeness seemed a wise choice.
“Nice?” Mama asked. “There is nothing nice about the situation. Last night at the Royces’ ball, I talked with the Carstairs, who will be hosting Lord Bremerton in just a matter of days. Bremerton has asked them to indentify Newport’s gems of young womanhood, and Lurene Carstairs finds Katherine Royce to be the perfect example. She plans to have a small gathering upon Bremerton’s arrival to showcase Katherine. Needless to say, the Royces are jubilant.”
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