Heiress

by Susan May Warren

  “What about the bed rest?” The other solution lay in the unspoken. Getting up and going about her daily activities, even strenuous ones, might guarantee that Foster never discovered her indiscretions.

  Which indeed might be God’s will.

  “If I go to bed, word will leak out. Foster will discover the truth. Perhaps—perhaps I should let God determine my fate.” But even as she said it, she wanted to weep.

  Oh, indeed, she was a wretched woman. She couldn’t lose this child.

  Her mother drew in a long breath. “Very well. We will leave it to fate. She piled the stationery on a bed desk, moved it over to Jinx. “No more driving.”

  No more driving, indeed.

  “I should tell Bennett.”

  Her mother stared at her as if she’d announced she might bathe naked at Bailey’s Beach. “Have you lost your mind? Bennett must never, ever know.” She took Jinx’s hand. “If he finds out, he will want to woo you, to make it right between you. I promise you this, Jinx, no good can ever come from following your heart. You must be clever, my daughter, and don’t let fate betray you, or your sins will follow you forever. This is the only way out. Your future is in your own hands.”

  Chapter 10

  Never had Newport seen such a party. And never had God provided a more beautiful night for a woman to betray her heart.

  After all, what choice did she have? She hadn’t miscarried, which seemed a divine joke, of sorts. The stars glittered overhead, scorning Jinx as she watched her guests dance in her glorious ballroom to the orchestra from New York City, the waltzes and polkas of Debussy and Chopin swirling through the marble hall and spilling out on the open doors of the terrace.

  Parked in the front circle, around the fountain, motorcars of all styles decorated her yard—De Dion Bouton’s model L’s from Germany, and Peugeots from France. Even a Ford quadricycle. Foster had his stable of motorcars polished and bedecked with wreaths of flowers, vines and ivy twined into the spokes of the wheels. Among the wreaths, glow lights sparkled, capturing the greens and reds and gold edging of the vehicles, accentuating their magnificence.

  For the cotillion, Jinx had salvaged a gold-edged dress from her pregnancy trousseau, with an accompanying picture hat, swaths of red and gold ribbon at the brim to match Foster’s driving clothes.

  He appeared the master of his kingdom in a black satin jacket, black leather pants, and a plaid derby he wore during the parade. He’d swept in two days before the ball as if he hadn’t spent the past month away, and spoken as few words as possible, it seemed, to accomplish his orders. Now he stood on the terrace, engaged in conversation with men from the Newport Reading Room. She recognized William Vanderbilt and John Jacob Astor, who had driven their newest acquisitions, their wives beside them on the leather seats.

  Jinx rode with Foster, despite her mother’s silent objections. But really, she had no choice if she hoped to stay in Foster’s favor.

  If she hoped to woo him into her charade.

  She’d survived the past two weeks without Bennett’s dangerous companionship, her secret growing inside her, waiting every day for the cramping, the grief.

  She hadn’t miscarried. Which meant that God indeed intended her sins to be displayed, to follow her all her days.

  She knew she should be afraid. Instead, she wanted to weep with gratitude.

  Meanwhile, Bennett and Elise’s social appearances in the Newport Daily News dug a furrow through her.

  What would Bennett do if he knew? She longed to tell him, to see his expression. Would he feel the same sweet agony that swept her to tears in the thin hours of the night? How could such a terrible sin reap such joy?

  She already loved the child inside her. And if she had to behave like a wanton chorus girl to seduce her husband, to conceal her secret, she would find the strength.

  “You look most lovely tonight, Jinx.” Grayson Donahue edged up to her, his flute of champagne glittering against the electric lights on the terrace. He appeared regal and very eligible in a gold-threaded black waistcoat, top hat, and a pair of pinstriped breeches.

  “Thank you, Grayson. I noticed your new De-Dion Bouton outside. It’s beautiful. I love the gold-fringed cover. Very practical.”

  “I heard about your accident in the park. I’m so sorry about your carriage, but I’m thankful you are unhurt.”

  “I suppose you read about it in the News?”

  “Actually, Bennett related the story to me not long ago during a tennis match. He is an adept singles player.”

  Just the mention of Bennett’s name could send a thrill through her. She drew in a steadying breath. “Indeed.”

  “Perhaps we could challenge you and him to another match,” Grayson said. He had kind eyes. “Or better yet, we’ll best Elise and Bennett.”

  Elise and Bennett. After a month of seeing their names appear together, certainly she would have grown accustomed to the cadence of it, but traitorous tears burned her eyes and she had to force a smile, turn into the night. “Unfortunately, I will be closing Rosehaven early this year. Mr. Worth has obligations in New York City.”

  “But certainly you’ll stay for the wedding, won’t you?”

  She tried to bite back her gasp, the way the words she should have expected dug into her even before she asked, “Whose wedding?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything—their engagement isn’t yet announced.” Grayson winked at her. “But I think we both saw it coming, didn’t we? Bennett is a splendid match for Elise. I am happy for them both.” He lifted his glass, as if to toast them, and she nodded in agreement.

  The night dipped around her, her stomach light. Perhaps she should sit down. She opened her fan. “When is the wedding?”

  “They wanted to accomplish it before the end of the season, but since the marriage agreement was only made two days ago, I suspect they will have difficulty securing the arrangements.” He took a sip from his champagne flute. “Then again, you managed to prepare a wedding in two days’ time, didn’t you?”

  She glanced at him, searching his expression for malice. Nothing but innocence, even admiration in his eyes, and she supposed he didn’t know that, in fact, her arrangements took less than an hour’s time.

  Sometimes, she went back to that moment and wanted to rewrite it. To stop at the edge of her father’s study, as Foster met her eyes, his solemn countenance hinting at her ruined future, and run.

  Why hadn’t she waited for her own match, someone to win her heart? Or perhaps she’d been so set at designing her own future, she couldn’t take her chances at a happy fate.

  “Jinx, are you okay? You seem flushed.”

  “I’m simply fatigued. I believe I will check with my butler on the evening’s final event.”

  “There is more?”

  “Of course.” She flashed him a smile.

  The dancers were engaged in a German, social coordinator Harry Lehr calling the moves as Jinx moved through the ballroom, toward the dining room. She found Neville there.

  Yes, the fireworks display would be lit precisely at midnight, below the cliffs. She wandered out to the front driveway, running her gloved hand over the chrome fender of a beautiful Benz.

  “Hello, Jinx.”

  The voice trickled through her, set something deep inside on fire. She drew in a breath to extinguish it and turned. “Bennett.”

  She’d greeted him, of course, when he entered, breathtaking in the motoring suit she’d ordered for him, adding his own blue pinstriped shirt, a gold threaded ascot, and a matching derby. His blond hair curled out the back and his blue eyes pressed into hers, barely a smile on his lips before he’d taken Foster’s hand in greeting. The two men shared a warm moment and Jinx had to turn away with shame.

  Bennett stepped up to her, his gloved hand rising as if to touch her then falling back. “I had hoped to talk to you tonight.”

  “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” She turned before he could see the wreckage his movement wrought on her resolve and wan
dered past a Peugeot. The moonlight cascaded over the shiny, gold-gilded lanterns, the leather seat. She plucked the petal of a white rose woven into the wreath.

  Bennett stepped up behind her. “How are you?”

  Wounded. Breaking. Wishing I’d had the courage to say yes to you that day in Memorial Park. “I’m well.” She fabricated a smile. “I hear congratulations are due?” She couldn’t look at him, not fully, but managed a glance.

  He didn’t smile, didn’t even acknowledge her question. “I was so worried about you. But your mother said you didn’t want to see me. That you preferred me to leave. I know I should have come to see you, regardless.”

  “No, she was right.” She wanted to weep. Her mother, not his own hurt pride, had sent him away. Had her mother’s lies about Esme taught her nothing? “I was fine. Thank you for finding me, for rescuing me.”

  He looked at his shoes, properly shined. “I will always rescue you, Jinx, if you allow me.”

  Oh, his words had lethal precision. She moved away from the Peugeot, walked out to the fountain, watching the spray weep into the night, dapple the surface of the platinum pond.

  “I don’t need rescuing. Besides, I believe Elise would have something to say about that.”

  “I don’t love Elise.”

  She turned then. “You don’t love your fiancée?”

  “It’s just a match.”

  Before she could stop herself, her hand lifted to slap him. He recoiled and she jerked back. “Don’t you say that to me!”

  “I’m fond of her, of course, but she is not you.”

  She gritted her teeth, closed her hand into a fist. “Then don’t marry her. Don’t do to her what Foster did to me. He hates me.”

  “I will honor Elise. I am not Foster. But I am not married, yet. And…my brother is a fool.”

  She wanted to tell him, then, wanted to spill out the truth, to cling to him, just for a moment.

  I’ll never betray you, Jinx.

  “Perhaps I was the fool,” she said. “But what’s done is done.”

  Bennett said nothing, examining her face before she finally turned away. “You’re right. What’s done is done. We’ll announce our engagement this week. I wanted to prepare you.”

  “I hope you both live happily ever after.” She moved away from him.

  He caught her arm. “Jinx, don’t do this. You spurned me.”

  Her jaw tightened, and she yanked herself away, out of his grip. “Don’t touch me. Ever.” But her voice betrayed her and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

  “Jinx—”

  She turned and strode out into the darkness, away from the luminous eyes of Rosehaven.

  “Jinx!”

  Footsteps in the soft grass behind her made her speed up, made her nearly trip. Bennett caught her, swept his arm around her waist. “Please, don’t run from me.” He turned her to face him.

  She couldn’t look at him. “I have to, Bennett. Don’t you see? I have to. You’re going to marry another, and I…I’m going to have a baby.”

  The words tumbled out and lay there, brutal. He let her go as if she might be on fire, so fast that she nearly fell. But she should have expected the pain on his face. The look of betrayal.

  And right then, she knew. He believed that she belonged to him. Believed her to be his.

  And, oh, she wanted to be.

  But she needed his hurt to churn up her courage, to push him out of her life before she did something truly foolish. She added a fine edge to her tone. “Yes, Bennett. I’m going to have a child. Foster’s child. So you see, you need to stay away from me. Marry Elise. Make her your wife and please, learn to love her.”

  He stepped away from her, whitened, shaking his head. “You can’t be pregnant. Foster hasn’t even been here… .”

  His mouth opened. Closed. And he gave her an awful, soul-searing look, one that shook her clear through. “It’s mine. The baby you’re carrying is my child.”

  She didn’t expect his softly spoken words to make her want to weep, to throw herself at him, let him hold her. Bennett must never, ever know. If he finds out he will want to woo you, to make it right between you. You must be clever, Jinx, and don’t let fate betray you, or your sins will follow you forever.

  Yes, Bennett. “No. It’s Foster’s. Of course it’s Foster’s.”

  He held her gaze until she nearly surrendered, until the truth pulsed at her lips. But she was a woman of society, of power.

  She knew how to tell a lie.

  Or, not.

  His voice shook. “I don’t believe you.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away. Still, his voice had the power to hold her captive. “Come to me, Jinx. I will wait for you. I won’t go anywhere until you are with me.”

  “Then you will wait in vain.”

  A crackle, then a bang sounded in the sky behind her. She jerked as a spray of red fire exploded over the back of the house.

  It was reflected in Bennett’s eyes. Then his voice cooled, crisp and quick. “Congratulations, Jinx. I wish you the best.”

  He turned and left her there, in the cool, damp grass, as the fireworks destroyed the midnight sky.

  * * * * *

  Foster was in a good mood. Jinx stood at the edge of the terrace, bidding farewell to the last of her guests, the Wilsons, and heard his laughter twining out of the billiards room, through the ballroom, and out into the night.

  It sounded so young, so unencumbered, it roused a long dormant memory. Ice skating on the pond in Central Park, his hand around her waist, laughing as he caught her in his arms, saving her from crashing onto the ice.

  She watched the Wilsons take their leave, then the movement of the servants as they collected the debris of the party from the lawn. They wound up the damask table linens, extinguished the electric lights on the back lawn, and left only the stars for luminance.

  Jinx drew in a breath, smelled the earthy bouquet of cigar smoke and some exotic fragrance, and turned to see Foster strolling up behind her. He had loosened his bow tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, lost his derby. In this light, he appeared younger, the man who had driven her up and down Fifth Avenue in his sparkling new motor carriage or held her in his arms in the ballroom.

  “I never danced with you this evening,” he said, his gray eyes on her. His soft tones rattled her composure.

  Perhaps the party had broken him free of his contempt. She had managed the cotillion of the season.

  “I apologize. I gave the first dance to your brother, as a welcoming gift, and allowed him to choose his partner. He and Elise make a lovely pair.” There, she managed the words without malice, without betraying the burn scraping her throat.

  “I agree.” Foster came up to stand beside her, a softness in his eyes. She smelled brandy on his breath as he leaned down, brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you.”

  She glanced up at him.

  “For finding my brother a match. I am most pleased with Elise. She is the daughter of a banker, and her connections will benefit our family well.” He cupped his hand on Jinx’s cheek. “Sometimes your ascension to the pinnacle of society has been less than endearing to me, I admit. I had thought you might be less capable, might need me more. But in this endeavor, I find your accomplishments most…fetching.”

  He leaned down again and pressed a kiss, albeit it a touch sloppy, to her neck. He wrapped his hand around her neck, angled her face up to his.

  She swallowed, met his kiss.

  He tasted of cigar smoke, of the bittersweet tang of brandy, and as he deepened his kiss, her chest tightened. He was never a gentleman when he drank too much. He drew back, his voice slurred. “I’ve missed you, Jinx.”

  Oh, even his words could bruise. She’d stopped hoping for such affection. Now, it brushed over the wounded places of her heart like silt. “Really?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  She hated the tears that burned her eyes as he kissed her again. Not exactly gentle, but not as much anger inside of it. Even,
perhaps, a hint of longing, that earnestness inherent in every groom desirous of his bride.

  What if it could have been like this from the beginning? Perhaps she’d tried too hard to earn his esteem. Perhaps if she’d been less capable, he might have seen her as he had before—a young girl, dazzled by his elegance, his power.

  She could do this. “I’ve missed you too, Foster.” She dug deep, tried to find something of truth. “I’m so lonely without you. And afraid.”

  He leaned back, his lips twisting into a smile. “What are you afraid of, peach?”

  She drew in a breath, stirring up her courage. What if—what if she told him the truth? Let him see her heart? “I’m afraid you’ll never love me, Foster. Never forgive me for not being Esme. Never look at me the way you did when we first met, when you held me in your arms at the ice rink, or when you taught me to dance. That you’d never see me as…” She drew in a shaky breath, slipped her hands up to his chest. “Beautiful.”

  Time seemed to stop, her heart laboring in her ears, her face hot in the darkness. Please.

  Please tell me you are glad you married me, that of all the women at the ball tonight, you would have chosen me.

  He laughed. She couldn’t detect the texture of it—malice, or adoration, but he shook his head as if in disbelief and bent down to kiss her again.

  She let his touch, his ardor, sooth the hollowness inside. She surrendered herself, almost fled into the belief that he saw her again as naive and delectable. Most of all, she let his husky invitation to join him in his chamber be the affirmation she needed.

  However, as he closed the door behind her, as he brought her into his embrace, as he reminded her to whom she belonged, never once did he affirm, Yes, Jinx, you are beautiful.

  Tears ran into her ears as she yielded to him, but he never asked why. Never even stopped to inquire about her comfort.

  Never spoke words of tenderness.

  Her hope died in the silent business of the union. She cursed herself for wanting more.

  Most of all, as she endured him, she realized that indeed, she’d known. That night, in Bennett’s arms, she had to have known.