“Why not? He’s handsome and polite, and he dotes on you, too.”
“I’m not in love with him for countless reasons, but I’ll start with the most important. He and I don’t suit.”
Amelia looked at her suspiciously. “I saw you at the ball and at Harriet Vandermeulen’s picnic. It looked as though you got along very well.”
“What one sees of a couple in public isn’t necessarily what it’s like when they’re alone,” Caroline said. “When it’s just the two of us, the ease and politeness are gone. I’m a business transaction to him.”
“Maybe that’s because he knows you don’t love him.”
Caroline sought a diplomatic way to explain this to her sister. “Lord Bremerton and I are just different sorts of people, Amelia. It’s like the color pink. It’s perfect for you, but not for me.”
Amelia considered the matter for a moment and then said, “I think Jack Culhane is your color pink.” “He suits you. You two laugh at each other’s quips. You smile when he walks into a room, and you follow him with your eyes when he leaves. He is your pink.”
“If those are the standards for pink, I suppose you could say that,” Caroline said. She would have said Jack was her whole rainbow if it would have removed the cross look from Amelia’s face.
“That doesn’t seem fair to Lord Bremerton. You’re his color pink, and I think you’re Jack’s, too. I’m just tired of you hogging up all the pink. You can’t be two men’s pink. It’s not fair. Something should be done about this. Soon you’ll be every man’s pink and there will be none left for me. And it’s my favorite color!”
Caroline rose. “I’m going to bed. There’s nothing I can say to you tonight that will make you happy. Sleep, and we’ll talk later.”
Amelia glared at her.
One thing was certain—Caroline would not wear the color pink tomorrow.
* * *
FRIDAY’S BREAKFAST started out decently. The seas had calmed, and though Caroline was the only Maxwell eating, at least the others weren’t looking too green. Jack was working his way through his eggs and sausage.
“Captain says we are to make harbor just after noon,” Agnes Maxwell said. “The storm slowed us only a little. We’ll be in plenty of time to catch the afternoon train to the city.”
“Good. I can’t wait to get off this ship,” Amelia said while using her fork to chase a melon cube around her otherwise barren plate.
Agnes disregarded Amelia and focused on her eldest daughter. “Caroline, if Lord Bremerton’s father is in relatively good health, I expect there will be invitations awaiting you. You are to accept them all.”
“Of course,” Caroline said.
Jack willed her to look across the table. He wanted to send her some silent reassurance, but she kept her eyes downcast.
Amelia dropped her fork with a clatter.
“Amelia, that was unnecessary,” her mother said. “Where are your manners?”
“Where are Caroline’s manners, Mama?” Amelia replied.
Jack set down his fork—quietly. The best eggs in the world wouldn’t be worth witnessing sibling warfare. He placed his napkin on the table and readied to make his escape.
“See? She’s doing it right now,” Amelia cried.
“Doing what?” Agnes asked.
“How can you miss it, Mama? She follows every move Jack makes. She hangs on his every word. She has a perfectly nice man in love with her, but Jack is her pink.”
Jack froze. Either he was losing his mind or Amelia was speaking in tongues.
“Amelia, what are you talking about?” Agnes asked.
“Caroline is in love with Jack, Mama. She told me so last night.”
Caroline’s face turned white. “I said nothing of the sort!”
Amelia stood. “You did. You know you did. You said Jack was your color pink!”
Jack pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said at the same time Helen was rising.
“Both of you, stay,” Mrs. Maxwell commanded. “Caroline, what is this nonsense Amelia is talking?”
“I visited with Amelia in her room last night,” Caroline said in a level voice. “She was feeling ill and a little cross. We talked. She asked me if I loved Lord Bremerton, and I said I did not. And then she lost her temper.”
“I did not lose my temper!”
Amelia would have been more credible if she weren’t shouting now, Jack thought. He kept his mouth shut, though.
“Mama, we were talking about love,” Amelia said. “I love the color pink, and Caroline loves Jack. That was the conversation, and I have no reason to lie,” she added with a glare in Caroline’s direction.
Agnes Maxwell gave Jack a baleful look. “You may leave the room now, Mr. Culhane.”
Jack rose. “Thank you.”
He had a feeling those were to be the last words he’d be permitted to say to a female Maxwell for some time to come.
NINETEEN
Jack knew there were far worse fates than being exiled to the Savoy Hotel. On Tuesday afternoon, though, he couldn’t think of a single one. While Caroline was no doubt fending off Bremerton at some luncheon or another, Da and he sat glumly at the hotel’s bar. They were among the few patrons there, since it was a freakishly sunny London day. Most everyone else was outside on the hotel terrace or walking in the gardens alongside the River Thames.
“I’ll bet you’ve never been outsmarted by a sixteen-year-old,” Jack said to his father.
“You’d be losing that bet. I raised you, and I’m guaranteeing that you got away with plenty that I don’t know about.”
“Point taken,” Jack said before taking another swallow of what was probably the worst lager he’d ever tasted in his life. Then again, that could have just been his poor attitude working its way to his taste buds.
“Care to tell me what happened?” Da asked. “You’ve been stewing for days.”
He’d actually done some brewery work, too, but mostly Da was right. And the days felt more like an eternity. “All I know is that I stood accused and was convicted of being Caroline’s color pink.”
“Pink? What does that mean?”
“Apparently that she loves me.”
“Then why did she just not say it?” Da asked but then gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Never mind. I know the answer. The Maxwells are a mad lot. Mad as a pack of rabid dogs.”
Breakfast last Friday had not been the most sane thing Jack had ever seen.
“So does the girl love you?” Da asked.
“Yes, but that’s not relevant at the moment.”
Jack’s father looked at him as though he’d just said Ireland wasn’t the center of the solar system. “Not relevant? It damn well is relevant any time a woman will unbend enough to admit she loves you. Try saying it and then having your words handed back to you on a platter, along with your own head.”
“It wasn’t a good crossing, I take it,” Jack said. His father had been doing his share of silent stewing, too.
Da snorted. “Between Flora cutting me off cold the first night and me playing cards with a thieving English lord who wouldn’t honor his debts, there’s been none worse.”
Jack had a very uncomfortable thought. “Tell me it wasn’t Bremerton.”
Da nodded. “It was. Flora chose the Lucania because it was the only ship with a Saturday departure, and damned if the Englishman wasn’t in first class, too.”
“There had to be several hundred people in first class, and you befriended him?”
“Intentionally,” his father said. “I’m going to have my eye on any British git who’s after harming my son.” He made a low sound of anger as he pushed his empty whiskey glass toward the inner lip of the polished mahogany bar. “Damn British bastard!” Realizing the bartender was right there, he added, “Not you, of course.”
The bartender nodded and pulled out a bottle of Da’s favorite, Jameson. When he went to fill the glass, Da instructed him to leave the bottle.
&n
bsp; “Did you tell Bremerton who you were?” Jack asked.
“Just my first name, but it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. To him, I was just another uncivilized Paddy. The name went in one ear and then out the other.” Da took a sip of his whiskey. “I set him up well, too. I let him win long enough that my money was in his pocket, but two days later, when I started winning, all he offered me was a marker for the debt. The man couldn’t hold his liquor, either. He was all puff and noise about the heiress he’s about to marry. That would be your Maxwell girl, wouldn’t it?”
“In theory, yes,” Jack said.
“You’d best be making sure it doesn’t happen in practice,” Da replied. “He said how this time, he was doing it right. No manipulation or back talk allowed.”
Jack knew Caroline would not manipulate unless cornered, but that was little solace, considering Bremerton got a thrill by trapping. And as for the back talk, that, unfortunately, was Caroline’s stock-in-trade on a good day. But the words this time sat worst of all. Jack was sure he’d never heard Caroline mention that Bremerton had been married before. And as concern jolted through him, he was equally sure that he was done feeling sorry for himself. The hell with being exiled by Agnes Maxwell and sitting in a great pool of self-pity with Da. He had things to do.
“I have to leave,” he said to his father. “Will you be okay here?”
“I’ve made it this far on my own,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll make it fine a few hours more.”
* * *
FOR CAROLINE, the very best thing about being in London wasn’t the fine architecture, the accents, or the sophistication of the city. It was knowing she would never be seated by Bremerton at a social function. As a lord and grandson of a duke, he was a distant face at the well-titled end of the table. Caroline sat with her kind—American heiresses and other such foreign riffraff.
Today’s large luncheon was hosted by Lady Reynolds, whom Caroline had never met before. Lady Reynolds’s silver hair stuck out from her head at all angles, and she had a fondness for white face powder. If Caroline hadn’t been feeling marginally charitable, she would have compared her hostess to a plaster death mask. She’d certainly given Caroline a cold, dead stare today. She’d announced that she had known Bremerton since he’d been a child and certainly hoped Caroline recognized the honor of being escorted by him. Luckily, life among the riffraff was proving far warmer.
“How was Newport?” asked Marjorie Smith, a fellow heiress whose mother had brought her from New York a year ago and refused to let her come home until she was wed. “I miss it so.”
“It was as lovely as ever,” Caroline said. “I hope to be back there soon.”
Marjorie looked at her speculatively. Or perhaps she was just squinting. Marjorie’s mother insisted she did not need spectacles. Marjorie’s unfortunate habit of striking up conversations with potted palms suggested otherwise. “But all the talk is about an impending engagement between you and Lord Bremerton.”
“The talk is very premature,” Caroline said. “We’re just getting to know each other. Had you met him before today? If you can share any stories, I’d be curious to hear them.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to tell,” Marjorie said with a shake of her blond head. “He is quite handsome. I’m sure I’d recall meeting him, if I had.”
“And here I was certain that you knew everybody,” Caroline said. “I wonder how Bremerton never came onto the scene?”
“It is quite remarkable,” Marjorie replied as she took another look up the long table. “My mother and her friends make sure I have all the proper introductions. Maybe he’s considered improper? Wouldn’t that be dark and romantic?”
Caroline answered with a bland smile. If being bullied and subtly threatened was part and parcel of dark and romantic, she could do without it. Just then, Bremerton leaned forward and looked down the table at her. Caroline pretended interest in her overcooked squab.
“Excuse me, Miss Maxwell?”
Caroline looked over her shoulder to see a footman in the Reynolds’s forest green livery.
“Yes?”
“There is a messenger waiting for you in the front hall. It is of some urgency.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said. “I’ll be right there.”
She hoped it wasn’t Mama. This morning, Caroline had tried to talk to her calmly about Jack and what Amelia had said. Mama had taken to her bed complaining of chest pains, and Berta had sent for the doctor. After seeing Mama, the doctor had delivered a strong warning to Caroline to be sure that nobody overexcited her mother.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said to her nearest fellow diners before following the servant. She could feel Bremerton’s gaze hard on her as she left the room, but she didn’t look his way.
Her shoes tapped a quick rhythm across the glossy oak of the hallway floor. She slowed, though, when she came to the black-and-white marble entryway. There stood Jack. He smiled. She smiled back. Enormously. Caroline thanked the footman, who retreated to the far end of the hall.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked Jack in a low voice.
“I had O’Toole slip over to your town house and get your weekly schedule from Annie.”
“Excellent job.”
“Thank you. I plan to work hard to live up to the honor of being your pink,” he replied with a teasing smile.
She winced. “I’m sorry. That was completely mortifying. You caught us at our worst.”
“That was nothing,” Jack said. “Wait until you catch my father when he’s in a mood.” He glanced toward the footman. “Can you make your excuses and leave? We need to talk.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Caroline returned to the dining room and apologized to Lady Reynolds, saying that she was needed at home. Bremerton offered to escort her, but Caroline quickly told him that her mother had sent a carriage. His response was cordial enough, but suspicion was obvious in his pale eyes. There would be repercussions for this escape, but she’d gladly pay the price.
In no time at all, she was outside with Jack. He ushered her into a waiting hansom cab, slid open the trap door in the cab’s roof, and gave their driver a Mayfair address. Jack and she sat close together on the cab’s single seat. No one on the street could see when Jack held her hand. His warmth worked its way up her arm and to her heart.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they pulled away from the curb and into the traffic.
“Not far. We’re going to have a visit with Flora,” Jack said.
“Flora is here?”
“Yes. She and my father both crossed on the Lucania. It seems we’re too interesting of a show not to follow.”
Caroline smiled. “I’m glad they’re here.”
“I’m glad Flora is, but the jury’s still out on Da,” Jack said. He flashed a quick smile that spoke of his love for his father. “I’ve been picking up some news on Bremerton and want to see if Flora might be able to help us.”
“I’m assuming the news isn’t all sunshine and joy,” Caroline said.
Jack gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”
She decided that, in this case, she was fine with delaying the inevitable and didn’t press for more. Her time was better spent simply holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the sunny day.
Just a few minutes later, they pulled off the busy main thoroughfare and onto a quieter, elegant residential street. The cab stopped in front of a redbrick town house that wasn’t the largest but was immaculately kept. Jack handed their fare up to the driver, who then opened the cab’s doors. Jack exited, helped Caroline down, and then up the steps to the town house’s main entrance. A black-suited butler opened the door, and soon they were on their way to Flora.
She rose as they entered the room and approached them, arms extended, in a cloud of ivory taffeta and violet perfume. “Caroline, how wonderful to see you.”
Caroline embraced her friend. “And you.”
Flor
a turned her attention to Jack. “You’re looking well, Jack. How’s your father?”
“Holding up the bar at the Savoy right now, I believe.”
She smiled. “He’ll be done with that by sundown and over here to give me a piece of his mind.” She looked at Caroline. “Jack’s father proposed marriage while we were aboard ship. Some nonsense about having the captain perform a ceremony so we could get it over with. It was the most unromantic proposal I’ve ever received, and I have received my share.”
“I’m sure he’s seeing the error of his ways by now,” Caroline replied.
“He’s long overdue,” Flora said. “But enough about Patrick. Welcome to my home, and, please, have a seat.”
Once they were settled, Jack in a jewel blue armchair and Caroline and Flora in a pair of matching floral ones, Jack spoke.
“So was Da the only one to cross paths with Bremerton on the way here, or did you, too?” he asked Flora.
“I saw your father with a gentleman who I was told was Bremerton, but I kept my distance. I had no idea what Patrick was up to, and I preferred to keep it that way.”
“A wise choice,” Jack said to Flora. To Caroline he said, “During the crossing, my father took it upon himself to try to wring some money and information from Bremerton. He got a gambling note that Bremerton will never pay up on and one odd statement that we need to pay some attention to. Has Bremerton ever mentioned being married before?”
“No, never,” Caroline replied. “He’s not exactly generous with personal information. The one time I tried to ask him anything, he scared me off the conversation.”
“Scared you, how?” Jack asked.
“It doesn’t really matter,” she said. “Now that he’s broken Eddie’s leg, we know to take him seriously.” She considered how to find what they needed. “If he were married, it would have to be in Debrett’s. The copy I was working from in Newport was outdated, but he hadn’t been wed as of 1890. I don’t suppose you have a more current copy here, Flora?”
“I won’t allow that odious book through the door.”
Caroline laughed. “I’d call that a prudent policy.”
“Do I want to know what Debrett’s is?” Jack asked.
The Husband List Page 22