The Husband List

by Janet Evanovich

  Never had he come to her hat in hand … well, actually hatless … like he was at this moment. Flora was touched.

  “You, lose courage?” She shook her head. “Patrick Culhane, you are the boldest man I’ve ever met.”

  “Aye, and in some ways the thickest, too, or I wouldn’t be here today trying to rebuild what I ruined.”

  She smiled. “I won’t deny that.”

  “So then, will you do me the honor of being my friend?”

  Flora knew the answer, even if she didn’t feel completely comfortable letting him into her life again.

  “I don’t think either of us are so rich that we can afford to lose a friend,” she said.

  A smile slowly spread across his face. “You always were the smartest woman I knew.”

  And in some ways the thickest, too, Flora thought. But a life with both Culhanes far surpassed a life without them.

  ELEVEN

  Da must be having a regular Irish hooley, Jack thought. The coachman had just pulled up in front of the Touro Park house, and all the lights on the ground floor were ablaze. Jack retrieved his top hat from beneath the bench where he’d sent it earlier, brushed it off, and set it back on his head. If there were guests, he couldn’t enter the house looking as tired and frustrated as he felt.

  Wilton opened the front door before Jack had even made it to the steps.

  “I take it my father has company,” Jack said as he entered.

  “No, sir,” the butler replied, closing the door after Jack. “Your father is not in residence.”

  “Then you have guests?”

  “Hardly, sir. Mr. Edward Maxwell has guests. At the moment, they are in the billiards room.”

  Jack started to ask the unflappable Wilton another question but decided to go to the source. He handed the butler his hat and headed to Eddie.

  “It’s about time you made it home,” his friend said when Jack came into the billiards room.

  Eddie, who was in his shirtsleeves, looked to be losing a game to Charles Vandermeulen. Robert Conable and Harold VanAndel, two more of their customary New York set, were watching. Jack gave all four a hello but kept an eye on Eddie.

  “I had Wilton set me up with a room,” Eddie said without looking away from the shot he’d begun to line up. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Charles came over to shake Jack’s hand. “I’d have had him stay with us when he arrived, but Harriet has the house packed with girls. Wedding plans or some such other female thing. The giggling is enough to kill a man. We all decamped for the night. If you don’t mind putting the rest of us up here until her blasted picnic tomorrow, we’d be obliged.”

  Jack hoped it wasn’t his wedding to Harriet being planned because that was a nonevent.

  “You’re welcome to stay,” he told Charles.

  “Grand, old man! You and I might as well get used to each other’s company, if you know what I mean,” Charles said.

  Jack made a noncommittal noise in response.

  “Which brings to mind, Harriet is worried that you haven’t said whether you’ll be at tomorrow’s picnic. It will be the usual lot … Harriet, the Maxwell sisters, some of the Vanderbilt girls, and an Astor or two.… She asked me to inquire if I saw you.”

  Da’s belief that Jack needed a secretary was beginning to ring true.

  “I’ve been away on new business and have to spend tomorrow catching up on other matters,” Jack said. “Please give your sister my apology for the late response and also my regrets.”

  Charles’s demeanor drooped. “You’re sure you can’t appear for a short while? She has four girls to every man as it is. Take some pity on the rest of us and save us from being swarmed.”

  Jack smiled at the image of the men smothered in heaps of lace and parasols and ridiculously large-brimmed hats. “Tell you what, I’ll try to drop in.”

  “You have my gratitude,” Charles said.

  “Vandermeulen, your shot,” Eddie said from across the room.

  Charles grinned just as a robber baron’s son should at the scent of fresh money. “Time to finish him off.”

  Jack looked to Wilton, who had taken care of Jack’s hat and now stood next to the doorway. “Wilton, three more rooms, please.”

  “Already done, sir. And I shall retire to my quarters, unless you have further need of me.”

  Jack thanked the butler and sent him on his way. Eddie joined Jack while the other men took bets on how long it would take Charles to empty Eddie’s pockets.

  “What happened at Villa Blanca?” Jack asked Eddie.

  “My mother didn’t stick to her vow to stay in her room. You were just out the door when she appeared. You’d think I’d told her I had sent Caroline off with the Devil when I said you’d be bringing her home. She filled my ears with lectures about young ladies going about unaccompanied with men.” Eddie shook his head. “Unbelievable. There we were, talking about you … not the local Lothario. You’ve known Caroline since she was small enough to climb trees. You’re practically her brother.”

  Or not, Jack thought.

  “I pointed out to Mother how close to family you are, and she had one of her fits,” Eddie said. “Once she was settled, I decided that Mildred Longhorne’s house is no place for a man.”

  “What about Rosemeade? It’s sitting vacant,” Jack suggested. He didn’t want to be inhospitable, but for a group of people with damn big houses, why did they have to be under each other’s feet?

  “That was my first stop,” Eddie said. “Mother has guards posted. She has locked down the cottage until the big costume ball for the Englishman next Tuesday. Apparently, she wishes no one to see the improvements to the house or property before then … not even her own son. The guards are so cowed that I could have told them I was the Lord Almighty and they still wouldn’t have let me in. So on I went to Charles’s, and here we are.”

  “There’s a ball for Bremerton?” Jack asked. He was surprised Caroline hadn’t mentioned it to him. But then again, their most recent encounters had been brief and not taken up with talk.

  “The invitation isn’t that direct, but Mother’s intent in having a party is clear. Check that stack of correspondence on the desk in the library. Your invitation has to be there. And I’ve already responded to my mother for you, of course.”

  “I should just hire you,” Jack said.

  Eddie looked a tad alarmed. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking aloud,” Jack replied. “How long are you planning to stay here?”

  “I don’t know for certain. When Father gets here, I suppose I could always stay aboard the Conqueror if we’re bumping elbows too much. But I’d much rather stay ashore.” In a lower voice, he added, “I don’t like it getting around, but I have no love for the sea. The thought of nights spent bobbing in that boat … well, let’s just say I’d prefer the worst room at the seediest tourist hotel in town.”

  A ship the size of the Conqueror would barely sway in protected Newport Harbor, but Jack could appreciate a healthy dislike of something. He was feeling the same way about Harriet’s picnic.

  “I’m sure we’ll work it out here,” Jack said.

  “I knew I could count on you,” Eddie said while clapping him on the shoulder. “Are you ready for some billiards?”

  “Sorry, but I’m ready for some sleep.”

  “What? The night is young. It’s nowhere near dawn!”

  Eddie took his professional life of leisure very seriously.

  “And I’m the only one in this room who has spent the past two days shoveling manure,” Jack said. “I’ll thrash you at billiards another time.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I’m just setting Charles and the rest of them up for the big kill,” Eddie said.

  “Enjoy,” Jack replied.

  He eyed the door, making ready to escape. Fate wasn’t being kind, though. Da walked in, looking uncharacteristically dapper. And dapper wasn’t a word Jack ever thought would come to mind about Da. His suit was brand-ne
w and his shirt so white that it nearly blinded.

  “To think I left an empty house not so long ago. What’s afoot here?” Da asked the men.

  He picked up Charles’s cut crystal glass and sniffed the contents. “I need to be naming this place Bhaile Uisce Bheatha.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Robert Conable asked.

  “And here you’re so proud of your fine college educations,” Da said. “That means House of Whiskey in Irish. Contrary to my son’s beer-loving ways, ’tis whiskey that’s the water of life. Speaking of which, did you save any for me?”

  “Of course, sir,” Robert Conable said before speedily pouring Da a glass and bringing it over.

  Da toasted Robert. “Slainte.”

  The party was in good hands. Jack made another break for freedom.

  “Not so fast, son,” Da said. “I’ll be having a word with you. Come over this way, if you would.”

  Jack followed Da to the far corner of the walnut-paneled room. Eddie and the other guests were either too polite or too occupied with wagering to pay mind to them. Jack would guess it was the latter.

  “Is there any reason you didn’t think of telling me that Flora is back from San Francisco and staying in this very town?” Da asked.

  “That’s Flora’s choice to make, and not mine,” Jack replied. “She didn’t contact me, either. I crossed paths with her on the trip from the city.”

  “Crossed paths or engraved announcements, it doesn’t matter. You’re my son, and you should have told me.”

  Da hadn’t said that in a gruff-but-kindly sort of way; he was annoyed. Jack wasn’t feeling too happy, either.

  “How was I to know it mattered to you?” Jack asked.

  “Of course it would matter! A man would have to be an eejit to think it wouldn’t,” Da said.

  “Or he’d have to be your son,” Jack replied. “I had barely reached my teen years when Flora was gone. And I’ve kept out of your private affairs since I’ve been grown. Up until a few weeks ago, you kept out of mine, too. I liked that arrangement.”

  “Well, I’m liking this new arrangement,” Da replied. “At least until I have my questions answered. Flora said you were at her place tonight. You’re not courting her, are you?”

  “Hell, no.” Jack was floored by the notion, even though Flora was closer to his age than Da’s.

  “She’s a fine woman. No need to get your hackles up.” Da took a sip of his whiskey. “If you weren’t courting Flora, what were you doing there in the dead of the night?”

  “Collecting Caroline Maxwell.”

  His father laughed. “Collecting her? Is the girl not collected enough already?”

  “She has her moments,” Jack said. Her greater talent lay, however, in leaving him uncollected. At the thought of what had taken place in the carriage tonight, his smile was both involuntary and completely obvious.

  “Ah, now I see the way of it,” Da said.

  “I’m sure you think you do,” Jack said. “But this evening’s inquisition is at an end.”

  Da waved him off. “I’d rather play billiards and make myself some money, anyway.”

  Da was nearly unbeatable, so Jack escaped while he could. As he was trotting upstairs to the peace of his room, he noted an extra weight inside his coat pocket. He absently patted it and found the bulky shape of Caroline’s pearls. He’d forgotten he had them. Jack shook his head at this slipup. Tomorrow’s work would have to wait. Harriet’s picnic had just risen to the top of his list.

  * * *

  BY THE crack of dawn on Wednesday morning, the Blue Seaside Salon had officially taken on every aspect of a war room. All the furniture had been pushed to the room’s fringes, except for the library table anchoring the center of the room. A folding screen had been brought in for modest changes of clothing. Aides de camp—in this case, Annie, Berta, and a parade of other servants—bustled in and out, delivering notes and food. Pomeroy stood guard from his pillow. All that was missing was a cot on which to sleep, and Mama could move in for the duration.

  Caroline stood at attention in her Artemis costume, while Helen and Amelia waited in line as Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom, and Demeter, Goddess of Harvest, respectively. And then there was Mama, who had a decidedly sharp edge this morning. She had not announced her costume, but Caroline felt that Bellona, Roman Goddess of War, would be a good fit. Though on second thought, Caroline did not want to see what sort of damage Mama could wreak with both a spear and a torch. Her weapon of choice at the moment was silence toward her eldest daughter, and Caroline was bearing up only tolerably well under that punishment.

  “The vee at the bosom is not deep enough,” Mama said to the harried seamstress making adjustments to the white silk of Caroline’s dress. “Have I not told you that once already?”

  Caroline drew in a calming breath. It was difficult to keep her tongue when it appeared that Mama was mistaking virgin huntress Artemis for a manhunter goddess, Tartemis. Caroline knew her comments would not be well received, so she gave Helen an imploring look.

  Helen shook her head no.

  Please, Caroline mouthed.

  “Mama,” Helen said with obvious hesitance.

  “Lower!” Mama commanded the seamstress.

  “Mama,” Helen repeated more firmly.

  “Ah, yes! Perfect,” Mama said.

  Except if Caroline looked down the costume’s décolletage, she could see all the way to the floor.

  “Mama!” Helen cried.

  Her mother finally looked her way. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what, Helen?”

  Caroline smiled her gratitude to her sister.

  “Do you know how you speak of a young woman’s honor and how it must be protected, for it is a gift greater than gold?” Helen asked Mama.

  “Yes,” their mother said as she walked a circle around Caroline, inspecting her much as Bremerton likely would.

  “Well, Mama, I fear that dress exposes Caroline’s honor to danger and her bosom to one and all.”

  Mrs. Longhorne, who was unrolling one of a dozen velvet jewelry pouches on the war table, nodded her head. “I must agree, Agnes.”

  “After Caroline’s reckless disappearance last night, we must regain Bremerton’s attention and keep it,” Mama replied to her friend.

  Caroline couldn’t stand silent another second. “And so you think to achieve that by having the top of my dress disappear?”

  Mama wheeled on her. “If you are going to speak, make it a recitation of Bremerton’s living relatives.” She flicked her hand toward Caroline’s governess. “Peek! Debrett’s!”

  Even Peek knew better than to argue. She pulled the red tome from the table and opened it to the Duke of Endsleigh’s listing.

  Caroline was not in the mood to cite chapter and verse, so she returned to silence, even when Mrs. Longhorne came close enough to peer down her dress.

  “Oh, dear. We do have an issue here,” Mama’s friend said.

  Mama stopped closer to investigate the view.

  “You may bring the vee up an inch,” she told the seamstress.

  “Just an inch?” Mrs. Longhorne asked.

  “She will be wearing a wide gold belt high on the waist,” Mama replied. “That will cinch in the fabric and take care of the rest of the problem.”

  But it would also accentuate Caroline’s ample curves up top. Among her friends, she was the only one she knew who didn’t have need to add padding to her dresses in order to attain the current fashionable proportions. But without the proper restraint, she felt so … obvious. But that was Mama’s strategy.

  “And not too much bulk, either,” Mama said. “Just one petticoat, I think.”

  “You’re lucky!” Amelia exclaimed. Her wheat-embroidered Demeter costume was so petticoated up that she reminded Caroline of a hay pile.

  Mama tapped her finger to her chin as she inspected Caroline’s throat. “We want to keep the eye following the line of the dress. Perhaps the Russian pearl choker she wore last night,” she said
to Mrs. Longhorne, who had returned to the array of jewels.

  Caroline’s palms grew damp. She’d realized Jack still had the pearls as soon as she’d gotten into the house last night. She planned to find him today and reclaim them.

  “No. Never mind,” Mama said. “We can’t have Lord Bremerton seeing her in the same jewels twice.”

  She turned away from Caroline, who surreptitiously wiped her palms on the dress, earning a gasp from the seamstress.

  “She will wear the diamonds, I think,” Mama said from her new spot next to Mrs. Longhorne. “When you slip details about the ball to the Times and the Mercury, be sure to say that Caroline’s gems were once Marie Antoinette’s.”

  “Were they?” Helen asked.

  “No, but the newspapers won’t know the difference.”

  “I’m glad they’re not. I would hate for my sister to be wearing the jewels of someone who was beheaded. It seems like a bad omen, and Lord Bremerton seems like a walking bad omen as it is,” Helen said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mama replied. “Lord Bremerton is a mannered, sophisticated gentleman.”

  She returned to stand nearly toe-to-toe with Caroline. “Last night was also your last hurrah, Caroline. We will not pretend that it did not happen, and we will place you under guard, if need be, between now and when Lord Bremerton begins to negotiate with your father regarding a marriage.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Caroline said. What she thought was another matter entirely.

  Caroline’s mother waved Peek over. “You will accompany Caroline and the twins to Harriet Vandermeulen’s picnic at noon today. You will oversee her activities and report back to me on her behavior.”

  “So I’m to be under guard already?” Caroline asked.

  “Miss Peek is your governess.”