An Inconceivable Deception

by Sydney Jane Baily

  She pushed against him until he released her.

  Unfortunately, she really was in trouble this time, and not the small kind of sneaking out to see a bawdy show on the Common or go with Claire to a pub in a seedier section of the city. No, this was serious and sad, and it would hurt people she would give anything not to hurt.

  Her face gave it all away, no doubt, for Reed furrowed his brow and lost his teasing manner.

  “What is it, dear one?”

  He pulled her toward one of the chairs and sat in the one next to it, not putting his desk between them, which she greatly appreciated.

  Rose imagined he could hear the rising tattoo of her heartbeat as she tried to form the words to explain her awful deception.

  “I have something I must tell you that you must keep absolutely secret. For now. Also something I need to ask.” How she wished she was there as an excited bride, merely to request that he walk her down the aisle in their father’s stead.

  “You have my full attention.” His intelligent eyes were looking right into her own, their intense blue a mirror of hers. Sometimes, she wished she also had his brains.

  “I fell in love,” she began, not sure why it came out like that. She paused. Should she have begun with, “A few years back, I got married”? Her union with Finn had been all about the fullness of her heart — and her inability to fight her own heart’s desire — so naturally, the first thing she expressed to her brother was her love.

  “Yes,” Reed prompted her. “With William.”

  She shook her head, and immediately, the tears sprang into her eyes and began streaming down her cheeks. Reed’s shocked face caused her to bury her head in her hands.

  “Don’t you love William?” he asked, his voice tentative.

  Breathe deeply, she counseled herself. When she could speak, she said, “Yes, of course.”

  “Rose,” Reed enjoined. “Explain, please.”

  She lifted her head and started again. “I fell in love with a man named Phineas Bennet. It was in the summer, nearly four years ago.”

  He reached out and touched her arm. “What happened to him?”

  Of course Reed had immediately surmised that something had happened. Elsewise, she would be with him.

  “He died, or I so I surmised. His ship went down, all hands lost.”

  “I’m sorry,” Reed said and put his hand around her shoulders. “Are you worried that something will happen to William?”

  Oh dear! She had better figure out a way to explain this more clearly before she tried to tell her fiancé.

  “No, I’m not worried for William,” she said. “Actually, I do sometimes have that exact fear that something will happen to him. However, that is not . . . ,” she trailed off.

  Say it, she ordered herself. Simply speak the words. “I married him.”

  She felt Reed’s arm stiffen. “William?”

  “No, Finn.”

  If Reed were the gasping type, she knew he would have done so, for she felt his intake of breath.

  She rushed on. “I am Mrs. Phineas Bennet, and I have been for over three years.”

  “I see.”

  The disappointment was evident in his tone. She knew his quick mind was imagining their clandestine meetings, their secret marriage, the deception perpetrated upon her family and society at large, and her being a wife, not an innocent bride.

  All of that was so like the Rose she used to be, she could barely countenance her younger self. Certainly, she was no longer that irresponsible, selfish girl.

  Moreover, she hadn’t even told Reed the worst part.

  “Does William know?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Don’t you think he should?”

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed her shoulder with the arm still draped around her.

  “I imagine that will be quite a difficult conversation. He is not expecting to marry an experienced widow.”

  Her brother had managed to put into words as delicately as possible his assumption that she was not a virgin.

  “As it turns out, I’m not,” she said. Neither experienced, which she would rather not discuss with Reed, nor a widow, which he would learn momentarily. “Phineas Bennet has recently returned to Boston.”

  “He died ‘or so you surmised,’” Reed recalled her words with the steel trap brain for which he was famous.

  In this instance, Rose knew the reality had momentarily escaped him because of the sheer inconceivability of the mess she’d got herself into. If not for the strange situation she was trying to explain, she knew her brother would have grasped onto those words immediately.

  Dropping his arm from her, he stood up and began to pace. The energy radiating from her brother was palpable, and she waited for the barrage of questions or worse — the angry scolding that she soundly deserved.

  Instead, Reed suddenly crouched down in front of her and took hold of her hands, looking with piercing intensity into her eyes.

  “This scoundrel who wed you and abandoned you, where is he and what does he want?”

  Good God, like a knight in battle-worn armor, Reed was going to take up her cause. How noble and not entirely inappropriate, given how Finn had cruelly left her in the dark for so long.

  “I had never thought him a scoundrel, and it is hard to change my view of him, though it seems he has dealt with me badly. Finn’s a shipbuilder and was on the Garrard. I’m not sure if you recall how it—”

  “It went down south of Nova Scotia,” Reed said.

  Rose nodded.

  “And you changed overnight into the unsmiling, quiet Rose whom no one recognized. Until William Woodsom came along.”

  “Until William,” she murmured. Then, more urgently, she added, “I don’t want to hurt him. Reed, I never meant to hurt him.”

  “Nonetheless, I fear William will be. You didn’t answer me, though. What does Bennet want?”

  “He said he will let me divorce him.” She gave the only answer she could, for in truth, she had no idea what Finn wanted.

  Her brother didn’t seem convinced. “How much money does he want to keep quiet?”

  She flinched at his tone. “He didn’t say he wanted anything.” Including her. Besides, asking for money wouldn’t be like Finn at all. Would it? To extort money from her.

  “He was in England and heard of my engagement, so he returned.”

  “How kind of him?” Reed remarked, standing up once more. “So you’ve met with him?”

  She nodded.

  “Alone?” he asked.

  Rose swallowed. “Not really,” she hedged. “Only in public, though there was no one else around.” Except Charlotte.

  “Is that why you were at The Parisien?”

  Truly, nothing got past her brother. Moreover, Charlotte was an extra pair of eyes and ears for him.

  She nodded again.

  “My wife explained to me why you were there, but, frankly, it seemed odd that you would want to engage the services of a French chef when I have one living in my own home.”

  Ah, yes. That did seem odd when her brother put it like that. She had no need of Chef Ober’s skills at her wedding luncheon, not with Pierre at hand.

  Reed crossed his arms. “I don’t think you should speak to Bennet again. Tell me how to contact him, and I’ll handle this.”

  That would be the prudent thing to do, Rose realized. Why did it make her feel like a coward and a failure? Moreover, prudence was such a difficult virtue to which she had never quite adhered.

  When she said nothing, Reed added, “Rather than waste your time on this man who decided to come back from the dead when it suited him, I think you should focus your attentions on the man who wants to spend the rest of his life with you. You should go talk to William at once.”

  Rose felt the blood drain from her face. “Can you tell me what will happen next? How long does a divorce take? Can it be kept completely private?”

  She took a deep breath and added, “
Does Mama have to know?”

  Reed grimaced.

  “What happens next is that I get Bennet’s signature that he will not contest a divorce proceeding. The divorce itself takes only as long as the time for me to create the writ of the divorce agreement and get it before a judge. As for keeping it private, it will be on the court’s docket but not necessarily in the newspapers.”

  “And Mama?” she persisted.

  He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, his familiar blue eyes, a mirror of her own, looked sadder.

  “I think you should tell her. However, I will leave that up to you. In any case, you should speak to William first. The man has a right to know everything about the woman he loves and intends to marry.”

  Again, the disappointment weighed heavily in her brother’s tone.

  Rose considered her situation for the umpteenth time. “Perhaps then I will be merely the woman he intended to marry.”

  “Don’t be melodramatic, Rose. William loves you, and I doubt something that happened in your life, no matter how terrible the fact that you hid it from him, will change his mind about marrying you.”

  Chagrined, she lowered her head. Still, she would have sworn that Finn loved her so thoroughly he could never have stayed away from her for years, letting her mourn as she had. What did she know of a man’s love? Acrimony twisted inside her.

  “I could divorce Finn and spare William the pain of ever knowing,” she said, no longer caring if Reed thought her a coward. It was not about her, after all, but about keeping William from feeling the pain she was feeling.

  “It could stay between you and me,” she added, standing up.

  He crossed his arms. “It could.” Reed sounded weary.

  “If it makes you think any better of me or of Finn Bennet,” she said, lifting her chin, “we did not have a wedding night, nor did we do what would turn a woman into a wife.”

  Rose should be mortified at having this conversation with her very proper brother, except she’d heard from her sisters that even Reed had had his improper moments.

  His eyes widened for a second. Then he nodded.

  “Legally, that may make a great difference in your divorce,” he said, his thoughtful tone showing he was treating this already as a case rather than as an emotional family situation.

  In another instant, his focus was back on her. “Even if physically you did not belong to another man, you gave your hand to him and took his name and signed a legal document. Personally, I think William should know that. It is up to you, of course.”

  Nodding, she sighed. “Finn lives above The Parisien. I suppose the only way for you to contact him is to go there. You can ask the staff, and they’ll direct you to his room.”

  Reed gave her a sympathetic half-smile. “Don’t worry, Rose. It may not seem like it at present, but everything will work out eventually. Will you trust me on that?”

  Her brother had never lied to her. “I will. May I also trust that you will tell no one until I speak with William? Not even Charlotte.”

  Instantly, he looked unhappy. “Yes, but do it soon.”

  ***

  After another evening of pondering her predicament, Rose concluded that Reed was right. She could not leave William with a hood over his head when it came to her past. Especially not with Claire and now also Reed knowing, not to mention with Finn liable to pass them on the street at any moment and speak familiarly to her. William being taken off guard was too awful to contemplate.

  With her mind made up to confess, she couldn’t stand to keep the secret from him a moment longer than necessary. When he agreed to a mid-day walk through the Common during his midday break, Rose braced herself for the worst and hoped for the best.

  “No, thank you,” she said, declining his offer of lemon-flavored shaved ice from a street vendor. Her stomach was already churning, and the idea of the tart cold ice hitting it only made it difficult to swallow. How to begin? She glanced across the Common in the direction of Ober’s restaurant, even though it was a couple streets away and not visible. Then she took a deep breath.

  “William.”

  “Yes, dearest.”

  “I need to tell you something that will come as a surprise, and an unpleasant one at that.”

  He faltered in his step, turning to look at her, and then he kept walking as did she.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’m sure I can handle whatever it is.” He shot her an encouraging smile.

  “Yes, I know,” Rose said. “I certainly believe you can. A few years back, I met a—”

  She was hit in the back of the head and spun around to see a child’s ball made of rough canvas rolling away from her.

  “What in God’s name?” William began. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed the spot where the ball had hit her, not only startling her but knocking askew her favorite straw boater and mussing her hair.

  Glancing around, she expected to see a group of children playing, yet saw no one who might have thrown it. There was a couple on a picnic blanket. There were two girls playing with sticks and hoops nearby. There was an elderly couple strolling. There was Finn, darting out from behind a tree and gesturing at her.

  Finn! She wrinkled up her nose. What was he indicating? Then, as he clapped his hand over his mouth and shook his head, she understood and turned quickly away. She couldn’t let William know she knew Finn, not until she’d explained everything. Besides, he looked like a madman!

  “Some mischievous boy, no doubt,” William said, taking her arm and continuing the way they were going. “You were saying?”

  Rose looked back over her shoulder. Finn was still shaking his head and putting a finger to his lips as if to shush her. Obviously, he didn’t want her to tell William about him. What should she do?

  Chapter Eleven

  “You know, I think I would like that shaved ice after all,” Rose said, turning to William. “Would you be a love and get me some?”

  He hesitated a moment at her capriciousness but almost instantly acquiesced.

  “Certainly. Wait here.” With that, William turned and walked back toward the edge of the park.

  Rose took a step in Finn’s direction and sure enough, he hurried forward.

  “Have you said anything to him yet?”

  “No. I was about to. Why did you hit me with a ball?”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No but—”

  “Then never mind that. Don’t say anything more to Woodsom until I can speak with you again. Nothing. Tell him nothing. Do you promise?”

  “What’s this about?”

  “Can you come to my room later?”

  Her head was spinning. William would be back any moment, and Finn was behaving so strangely.

  “No, I don’t promise anything. This makes no sense. Tell me at once why—”

  “Come at six o’clock when the restaurant is busiest. No one will notice you arriving. Go again through the kitchen to the back stairs. In the passage to the second floor dining room, there’s an unmarked door. That’s my room.”

  Finn looked her right in the eye, and she caught her breath at the earnestness shining back at her. “Trust me, Rose.”

  Trust him. She did, or rather, she had, except he was behaving so strangely.

  “I will. I’ll—” She saw William turn from the vendor. Quickly, she moved away from Finn, and he strolled in the opposite direction from her as if they’d passed each other without speaking. She waited for William to catch up.

  “Thank you.” She bit a huge mouthful of lemon ice from the small paper cone and promptly froze the roof of her mouth, causing her head to ache instantly.

  “Ohh,” she moaned while William watched her with a slight smile.

  “Silly girl, put your tongue on the roof of your mouth.”

  Rose did as he instructed, and, in a few moments, the pain went away.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She turned to look in the direct
ion Finn had taken, and he was nowhere to be seen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she fell into step with William.

  “Shall we walk up Commonwealth Avenue, and then I’ll have to get home. My mother wants to discuss the wedding cake.” She felt ridiculous telling such an obvious bald-faced lie. William stopped walking completely and frowned at her.

  “You were going to tell me something. I think it was unpleasant, and also, if I’m not mistaken, important.”

  He was not a fool, and she was angry with Finn for putting her in this difficult situation. Again. She vowed to stop trying to distract William with falsities.

  “Yes, you’re correct, but do you mind if I put it off for another time?”

  He touched her chin and held it, his lively eyes flashing with a shade of doubt. “Sometime soon, Rose, yes? I have a feeling I need to hear whatever you were going to tell me. Is it regarding the incident you mentioned to me once, the one that left you saddened?”

  William’s words startled her. He’d remembered the conversation from their first date, even then she’d never mentioned it again. If only she could tell him now as planned. Better yet, if only there was nothing to tell. She wanted her life back the way it was before the engagement party.

  Right then, unseemly as it would be, Rose wished she could roll up onto the balls of her feet and kiss her dear beau. Her heart felt heavy with love for him.

  “Yes, it is and yes, soon. I promise. Please, though, don’t worry about it.” She offered him a small smile that she didn’t feel. After all, there was plenty to worry about, and she would do that for both of them.

  He was a good soul and didn’t pester her or ask questions. Rose thought that if she were in his shoes, she would have nagged at him until he told her.

  “I won’t worry, then, if you say not to. Whatever it is, it can’t be too terrible. After all, everything has gone so smoothly, ever since I let you knock me over at the rink.”

  Rose laughed, recalling that day. She’d practically set her mind and heart against him, thanks to Maeve.

  William threaded her arm through his.

  “I love it when you laugh,” he told her. “You become even lovelier if that were possible.”

  She felt the bloom in her cheeks, like a sweet heat that he could put there with a certain look or a few words.