The Husband List

by Janet Evanovich

“Yes,” she said, with her back turned to him.

  She heard the grit of his shoes against the pea gravel that surrounded the folly. He was directly behind her now.

  “Your life could be very pleasant with me, Caroline,” he said in a voice she would call seductive if he didn’t unsettle her so. “I have few rules, though I am quite firm about those I have. I am a traditionalist. I lead. You follow. In exchange, all you need to do is ask. Whatever it is will be done for you.”

  He touched the back of her neck with one fingertip. She shivered.

  “Do you have anything to ask, Caroline?”

  “I would like to return to the house,” she said.

  He moved next to her and held out his arm. She took it. Up on the terrace, Mama smiled. Yes, to all outward appearances it was an idyllic day.

  * * *

  “CAROLINE, YOU are not eating your dessert,” Amelia said at dinner that night.

  But cake wasn’t going to tempt Caroline, especially because she had the feeling that Mama had requested it as a special reward such as she’d give her dog, Pomeroy. Walk with a slightly scary Englishman and you get chocolate cake. That being the case, no thank you.

  “If you want mine, you may have it,” she said to Amelia.

  Her younger sister excitedly nodded her head.

  “Absolutely not,” Mama said. “If Amelia wanted more—which she does not,” she said with a glare at her youngest daughter, “she would simply ask for another piece. We do not pass around food like playing cards.”

  Amelia sighed her disappointment, Helen gazed into space, and Mrs. Longhorne had another hearty swallow of wine. Such was a ladies-only meal. They’d been jilted early on by Eddie, who was supposed to have brought a handful of his friends, including Jack. Instead, Eddie had dropped in around four and said that he and his friends would be dining with Mr. Culhane. Jack had left town indefinitely, and they didn’t want to leave the poor man without enough people for a decent billiards match this evening.

  Mama said that she understood entirely. Even if she was upset with Eddie, she would never show it to his face. He was the heir, after all. Eddie had departed whistling, and Caroline had fought hard not to cry. She would not be seeing Jack, even in passing.

  Caroline was about to ask to be excused when Mrs. Longhorne’s butler appeared.

  “Mr. Bernard Maxwell,” he announced, but not as quickly as Papa had entered the room.

  “So here’s my girls! I stopped at Rosemeade, and some blasted guards would not let me into my own house. ‘Orders of Mrs. Maxwell,’ one said. I questioned him some more and he finally admitted I might find you here. Those are some stubborn men you’ve hired, Agnes, not that I’d expect less.”

  Mama had risen. She went to Papa, who gave her a quick hug. Caroline smiled. Her parents might lead mostly separate lives, but they truly loved each other. Why Mama could not wish this for her made no sense at all.

  “I didn’t expect you until Saturday,” Mama said. “Though I am quite happy to see you.”

  “The Conqueror was ready, my work was done, and so here I am.” He glanced around the dining room. “But where is Edward?”

  “He is staying at the Benton Villa, by Touro Park. According to Town Topics, Jack Culhane’s father won it on a hand of cards,” Mama sniffed.

  Papa chuckled. “Good for him. Benton cheats.”

  “All the same, I do pine for Edward.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have put guards in front of our home. We’d all be there, then,” Papa said as he took the empty chair next to Caroline and pulled it closer. “You’re not eating your cake, Pumpkin. Do you need some help?”

  “I’d love some,” Caroline replied. She didn’t bother to hide her smile as her father took over her cake and dessert fork. Mama turned her head in the other direction, as though an execution was taking place. She didn’t say a word, of course.

  “So what have you been doing with yourselves here in Newport, girls?” he asked between bites.

  “All sorts of things. It’s been wonderful, Papa,” Amelia cried. “There have been parties and teas and beach bathing and more parties and—”

  Papa laughed. “So, the usual array of ladies’ events. How about you, Helen? Have you kept yourself busy?”

  “Every moment, it seems,” Helen replied.

  “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

  “I would love one single day in which I could do nothing at all.”

  “Nothing?” Papa asked.

  “Well, only what I wish to do.”

  “Let’s make tomorrow that day,” Papa said. “Every member of this family will do only what they choose. Mildred,” he said to Mrs. Longhorne, “are you free to join in?”

  “I believe I shall,” Mrs. Longhorne replied.

  “A vacation from a vacation,” Caroline said to her father. “What a decadent thought.”

  “Ah, but you are not on a vacation. It’s your job to follow the busy social schedule your mother sets. And it’s mine to give you a day off every handful of years.”

  “As is your right,” Mama said briskly. “Unfortunately, I must keep to my schedule. We have a costume ball just days away. Bernard, if you will excuse me?” she asked, but rose before Papa could answer. “I need my rest. I am assuming you’ll be on the Conqueror tonight, but I will see you tomorrow.” Mama gave a perfunctory smile before she left. Mrs. Longhorne made her excuses and departed in Mama’s wake.

  “And that’s why I generally keep to my business and let your mother keep the houses,” Papa said good-naturedly. “She’s not a woman to cross.” He waved his dessert fork at Caroline. “Are you sure you don’t want any of this?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied.

  “Then I’ll finish it,” he said. Soon after the last bite had disappeared, he added, “So what do you plan to do with your decadent day, Pumpkin?”

  Caroline smiled. “I believe I will visit a friend.”

  FIFTEEN

  “Any illusion I had of keeping up with you in a tennis match has disappeared,” Flora said to Caroline, who had handily trounced her on the Casino’s grass court twenty minutes earlier. “But I’ll be kind to myself and admit I did well for a woman of my age.”

  Caroline tilted her head as though considering the matter. “You’re ageless.”

  “Tell that to my legs,” Flora replied. “They feel as rubbery as aspic. If this café table hadn’t been open, you’d have been calling for the smelling salts.”

  Caroline laughed. “Really, smelling salts? I can’t see that.”

  “Or maybe a fine Kentucky bourbon,” Flora added with a smile.

  “That sounds closer to the mark,” Caroline said. “And I do apologize for playing so ferociously. I don’t get to play often, so I wanted to take full advantage. The exercise let me get my mind off my problems, too.”

  “Would you care to share them?” Flora asked, suspecting she already knew what—or who—was behind them. “My advanced age makes me a good listener, so long as I haven’t been into the bourbon.”

  “Have you ever made such a complete mess of things that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to straighten them out?” Caroline asked.

  “Never,” Flora said, and then quickly took a sip of her water to hide her smile. At Caroline’s wide-eyed look, she added, “Try daily.”

  Yesterday evening, when she’d welcomed Patrick’s parting kiss, was a prime example. After all her talk of strength, she’d melted for him. Though it was no real excuse, she had never forgotten how good they were together. And now that she’d kissed him again, that knowledge refused to leave her mind. But focusing on her friend did help.

  Caroline looked around before speaking. “I did the most awful thing with Jack,” she said in a lower voice. “Thinking about it mortifies me.”

  And the possibilities were suddenly terrifying Flora. She trusted Jack … mostly. But he was a Culhane, and Culhane men had a way of getting what they wanted, especially if what they wanted wa
s a woman.

  “What happened?” Flora asked.

  “I … I told Jack that I loved him. I was so frustrated with him and with my entire situation in life that the words just flew out. Now I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

  Their waiter approached. Flora was glad to have gained some time. All she could think to say to Caroline was thank heaven it was just that! She doubted her young friend would appreciate the sentiment. With thoughts of sweetening the moment, Flora ordered two lemonades while Caroline sat there looking glum.

  “I’m sure it was an uncomfortable moment,” Flora said after the waiter had left.

  “Yes, and it became absolutely painful when Jack tried to pretend the words had never been said. I wanted to disappear.”

  Flora’s heart ached for Caroline. Once upon a time, she’d had that experience with a Culhane. “I’m sorry. Though there are exceptions, men aren’t very talented at talking about love. And some can be complete clods.”

  “Oh, Flora, I was the fool, not Jack,” Caroline said in a rush. “I knew he didn’t love me. I amuse him, that’s all. He finds me interesting, the way I do a specimen in the museum.”

  “I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t see you as a specimen.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Do you kiss museum specimens?” Flora asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “I doubt Jack does, either.”

  Caroline smiled briefly, but then her eyes widened. “Oh, this is mortifying. I just realized that not only did I tell him I loved him first, but I kissed him first, too.”

  “And yet you have lived to tell the tale,” Flora said, smiling.

  “You’re right,” Caroline said, sounding a bit surprised. “It’s really not so tragic. And unlike what Jack tried to do, I know I can’t proceed through life pretending this never happened.”

  “Good for you!” Flora said. “That act never ends well.”

  The waiter arrived with the lemonade. It had been years since Flora had tasted any. She sipped it and smiled. It seemed that many of her old favorites remained true.

  Caroline traced her finger down the moisture clinging to the outside of her glass. “Eddie said that Jack has left town.”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “Did he talk to you?”

  Flora knew to choose her words carefully. Jack had honored her by calling her family. While she adored Caroline, he held her loyalty. “Yes, we spoke.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  This, she could share. “He had some business to attend to at a brewery in Providence.”

  Caroline brightened again. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought I had managed to drive him from Newport with my impetuous declaration.”

  And the truth, Flora would not share. Of course not.

  Caroline sipped her lemonade and gazed at the passing scene. “We’ve agreed that I will live through the embarrassment, but what do I do about Jack now?”

  Flora smiled. “Ah, the most difficult question of all. I think in this instance you wait and have faith that Jack is the man you think he is. Sooner or later, he’ll come around and talk to you.”

  Caroline sighed. “I’m not very good at waiting.”

  “So it would seem. But sometimes it’s the wisest thing a woman can do.”

  Now, if Flora could only take her own advice and not let her heart get ahead of her common sense when it came to Patrick Culhane.

  * * *

  TUESDAY NIGHT, Caroline was a bundle of nerves. It was a blessing that her mother had managed to restrain herself and redecorate only the public areas of Rosemeade. As it was, Caroline kept rounding corners and jumping when confronted by unexpected pieces of lurking, life-sized statuary. But the conservatory, Caroline’s favorite room in this house, remained blessedly as it had always been. She closed her eyes and savored the quiet. This sort of silence would soon be as rare as a statue-free stretch of hallway.

  “Miss!”

  Caroline yelped. Annie had appeared in front of her.

  “I’m sorry for startling you, but you have to hurry, Miss. I’ve been looking all over for you. Your mother is after you. She has it in her head that you’re trying to hide away and miss the ball.”

  Which, while a good idea, was unworkable. Even Rosemeade wasn’t big enough to hide her from Mama, especially the day after Bremerton and Papa had met at a polo match. The introduction must have gone well. Mama was sure Bremerton was going to propose tonight. Thus, the heightened security on Caroline.

  “I was just gathering my thoughts,” Caroline said to her maid. “Where’s my mother?”

  “She and your father are in your sitting room.”

  The last time both of her parents had ventured into her quarters had been after the London six-shooter demonstration. It had not been a happy conversation. Caroline quickly made her way up the rosewood staircase, with its new scarlet-colored carpet, past a one-armed Grecian warrior, and to her sitting room.

  Mama and Papa stood in the middle of the room on the worn floral needlepoint rug Caroline had loved since childhood. Judging by Mama’s rather Byzantine golden headdress and Papa’s jeweled crown and charcoal-colored silk ceremonial robe clasped at the shoulder of his evening coat, Caroline hazarded a guess that they were Empress Theodora and Emperor Justinian of the Roman Empire. She knew for certain that her mother had chosen the costumes to best display her jewel collection. Mama was practically her own light source.

  “Your gown! You have altered it!” Mama cried as Caroline came closer.

  Caroline loved her slender gold diadem and gilded bow and quiver of arrows. She had accepted the thin petticoat and had even come to enjoy the Empire style waist and minimal corset that were part of being Artemis. But when Annie’s eyes had gone wide as Caroline had donned her costume this evening, she’d known she still had too much skin exposed up top.

  “I want to survive the evening with some measure of dignity intact,” she said to her mother. “The ecru lace Annie pieced in is hardly noticeable.”

  Mama sighed. “I suppose it’s fine, particularly because there’s no time to remove it. Guests will begin arriving at any moment.”

  Caroline’s father looked relieved at Mama’s capitulation.

  “I’ve brought you something, Pumpkin.” He reached beneath the opening to his long robe and into the coat pocket below. Out came a blue velvet box. “Your mother told me you would be dressing as Artemis, so I had our jeweler design a piece especially for tonight.”

  He handed her the box.

  “That was so thoughtful of you,” Caroline said, feeling both touched and regretful. If this was the night she had to say yes to Bremerton, she wanted nothing to remind her of it.

  “A woman should have her jewels,” Papa said. “They are insurance against a great many things in life.”

  Caroline opened the box. Inside sat an intricate necklace. Three narrow chains paved with diamonds met to hold a cameo of Artemis as the huntress, bow and arrow raised, set in gold with yet more diamonds surrounding it.

  “The jeweler told me that diamonds symbolize Artemis,” Papa said. “I’ve got no idea if that’s true, but it was a profitable statement for him to make.”

  “It’s beautiful, Papa. Thank you,” she said and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “It is quite tasteful,” Mama said. She frowned at the piece. “And I suppose it looks as though it could have belonged to Marie Antoinette.”

  “What does a dead French queen have to do with this?” Papa asked.

  “I’m just making sure Caroline matches the details already given to the newspapers,” Mama replied.

  “You gave details regarding our own daughter?”

  “Of course I did,” Mama said cheerily.

  Papa sighed. “Sometimes you worry me, Agnes.”

  “Annie, please help me with the necklace,” Caroline asked her maid.

  Once it was in place, Mama nodded her approval. “That will do quite well.”
She squared her shoulders. “Are we all ready for the most momentous night of Caroline’s life?”

  If it was up for a vote, Caroline was not in favor.

  * * *

  THE ONLY thing Jack hated more than costume balls was a bad batch of beer. Tonight, though, he’d almost take the bad beer. He adjusted the mask to his makeshift costume and then stepped out of his carriage. Rosemeade was lit up and festooned past the point of excess. But Jack knew that had been Agnes Maxwell’s goal. Outdoing the neighbors in Newport was no easy job.

  As he approached the house, he nodded greetings to those who looked remotely familiar, as well as to his fellow highwaymen. There was no better costume for a costume hater, and plenty of men matched that description.

  O’Brien stood at Rosemeade’s door, flanked by a squad of tall footmen in powdered wigs. Only those invited would be getting inside. The rest would be sent to the property gate to join the gawkers and reporters.

  “Mr. Jack Culhane,” Jack said.

  O’Brien checked his list and nodded imperially. “Welcome, Mr. Culhane.”

  Jack nearly stopped dead when he made the entry hall.

  “Unbelievable,” he said to himself. The place looked like Agnes had lifted the Elgin marbles from the British Museum and had them shipped in. Knowing her level of determination, it was possible. He followed the flow of the crowd toward the ballroom, which he could have found by scent alone. Thousands of white roses and hundreds of people were squeezed into the space. He took a glass of champagne from a round table packed with them and began to hunt for Eddie, who was somewhere out there in the legion of highwaymen. Jack could eliminate a number of them by build, and more by voice. But then he saw Eddie.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Jack asked his friend.

  “This,” Eddie said, gesturing at his white pantaloons and bright blue velvet jacket and cape embroidered with fleurs de lis, “is what happens when I am stuck under my mother’s roof. No black mask and cape for me. I have to be Louis-stinking-XIV, the Sun King.”

  Jack grinned. Eddie’s hair rose several inches above his head before it fell in twin waves of tortured curls. “Nice wig.”

  “And yet it’s better than these damn pants,” Eddie said with a long-suffering smile. “Where have you been? I kept your father company for as long as I could before Mother reeled me back here.”