by Kelsey Gietl
“Maggie,” Tena asked. “Are you well? You seem pale.”
Maggie shoved a bit of potato into her mouth and chewed sourly. With a hard swallow, she choked it down and nodded. Hugo stared at her with such concern, her fingers slipped on the way to her wine, nearly felling another glass. She steadied it with her other hand. “My apologies, friends. I need to check on my child. I’ve never been away from her for so long. Please excuse me.”
“Do sit down, Maggie,” Bianca chastised. “She’s perfectly cared for, I assure you.”
“Thank you; however, I will feel much better if I judge for myself.”
“You seem shaken, Miss Archer,” Lloyd commented. “Would you allow me to escort you upstairs?”
Silverware clattered against china and all eyes swiveled to Maggie’s left. Hugo stood alone, stunned to find himself the source of attention. He timidly folded his arms across his chest. “If anyone is escorting Mrs. Frye from the table, shouldn’t it be me?”
Lloyd chuckled. He held up his glass to Hugo as though in toast. “Yes, and a hearty many congratulations to you, sir, for managing to win this beauty. Many have tried, you know, and just as many have failed.” He lowered his glass to his lips. “Many are sitting in this very room.”
Reuben threw his napkin on the table. “Sod off, Halverson.”
Eyes glittering in amusement, Lloyd drew a triangle in the air between the three men. “You’re coming to this guy’s rescue, Radford? You do understand the irony here, don’t you?”
Maggie was on her feet and out the door before the remaining gentlemen could so much as push back their chairs.
THIRTY-SIX
Even at full height, Hugo couldn’t be said to tower over anyone. The top of Lloyd’s scalp while sitting shared the same plane with Hugo’s chin as he stood. Now the center of attention in a silent room, he focused on Lloyd, then Reuben, then at the half-eaten plate below him. After what appeared to be much consideration, he sat, picked up his fork, then set it back down and carefully folded his napkin. “A delicious meal, Mrs. Smith,” he said without looking up from his plate. “I’m sorry to leave before dessert.” Then he stood, pushed in his chair, and walked from the room with complete composure.
“I’ll take dessert on the veranda, Rookwood,” Reuben said and stalked from the room.
Tena couldn’t blame either of them leaving. Frankly, she would rather not be there either. But it would have been the height of impropriety for her to follow Reuben, even if only to talk. The next morning, Edith and Bianca would give her nothing but grief about it and assume, as anyone else would, that something nefarious occurred during the night. Although honestly, after the past few days, she didn’t even think Reuben would open the door.
He was avoiding something. It hadn’t been hard to surmise after he exchanged his steamship passage to travel third class alone. Their walk through the Royal Botanic Gardens had been too cordial, and when she finally brought up his unusual mood, he quickly shifted the conversation to her disagreement with Maggie. When she tried again, he hid his emotions behind the pages of a book. All his actions indicated he hurt something fierce inside and needed someone to confide in. He would have confided in her once.
“An evening outdoors does sound lovely,” Bianca said. She lifted a delicate hand. “Rookwood, we shall pass on the final course and take our dessert on the veranda.”
“As you wish, m’lady.” Rookwood nodded to the footmen who immediately disappeared into the butler’s pantry.
Lloyd downed the remainder of his wine. “Just as well. I’m off to bed.”
Bianca caught his eye as he stood. Even though her voice remained low, Tena caught her question to him. “One o’clock?”
“Not tonight, Mrs. Smith.” Then he vacated the room without a backward glance.
With a tiny simper, Bianca leaned towards Tena. “You do know he plans to be with Maggie tonight, don’t you? Maybe you should be more like your sister instead of attending parties once again—or should I say always—alone.”
“I’m tired of your insinuation that I’m unable to capture a man’s attention. I was engaged.”
“Yes, darling,” Bianca crooned, “and now you’re not. So, please, Tena, do something to remedy it. We’re all getting bored waiting.” Her pointed stare swung to her sister. “Edie, I thought a lively game of whist might be in order.”
“A perfect match to chocolate soufflé,” Edith agreed and the room cleared in a flurry of blonde giggles and Mr. McCoy’s hearty guffaws. Tena waited another few minutes, exhaled into the silence, and followed.
The Smiths’ grand veranda was directly adjacent to a library whose breadth of knowledge would put Laurence Archer’s study bookshelves to shame. She stared in awe of the many volumes, each bound in cloth or exquisite leather, many branded with gold leaf. A rollaway ladder allowed access to the uppermost shelves. She laid a gloved hand on a rung and inhaled deeply. What she wouldn’t give for a library like this to lose herself in night after night. What a pity Bianca would never appreciate the luxury.
A breeze tickled her neck when the veranda door opened, bringing fresh April air and the twitter of lively chatter. Edith’s giggle cut short as the door closed again.
“I wondered where we lost you to.” Tena looked around to meet Mr. Troughton’s easy smile. Crossing the room as easily as if he could part oceans, he offered his hand. “Shall we turn about the room, Miss Archer?”
Tena easily returned his smile as she released the ladder to accept his hand. “As you well know, Mr. Troughton, there are only two possible reasons for a lady to take a turn about the room. To speak of others uninhibited or to appear more desirable to the gentlemen watching her. As I have already caught your eye, should I then presume your reason to be the former?”
Mr. Troughton’s chin shifted slightly, one brow rising, and Tena considered heading for the veranda without him. It was unusual for her to reference a piece of classic English literature and have her usual literary sparring partner miss the bait. Reuben would never overlook such a blatant reference.
“Pride and Prejudice?” she nudged, offering him a second chance. After all, she must continue to remind herself that this man was not like Reuben. In fact, most were not. “It is a statement Mr. Darcy makes as to the rationale for Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley’s need to walk the room. You have read it, surely?”
Finally, he grinned and said, “Why yes, of course. I was merely caught off guard by the extent of your loveliness. It should be quite clear that I wish to speak uninhibited.”
Does he honestly expect me not to recognize such obvious flattery? she thought. Even so, she accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her clockwise around the room.
“It was jolly good luck that Mrs. Smith invited me here tonight, Miss Archer. You are still as breathtaking as I remember from her Christmas party.”
Heat rose up Tena’s neck and she was grateful for the minimal lamps lit about the room. Most of the light came from the low burning fireplace and moonlight cascading across the floor. “Why, Mr. Troughton, that was well over a year ago.”
“I remember every lady I dance with, especially if she is as becoming as you.”
She felt her blush deepen despite herself. “Mrs. Smith has a poor tendency to create romantic matches without consent. Although, I do thank you for offering the compliment.”
“I hope you can consider accepting more than a compliment from me.” His grip on her hand tightened. “It should please me to speak more privately on behalf of what I can offer you, if you will do me the honor of dinner this week.”
Tena pulled up short. The veranda doors lay but a stride away. She considered the impoliteness of choosing a game of whist with the Winchester sisters over this man’s amorous advances. “Mrs. Smith has deceived you, Mr. Troughton. My stay in England is only temporary. I must return to America in a few days’ time.”
Only the patio doors separated them from the group eating soufflé and tossing cards at the edge of the
veranda. Pale blue moonlight washed over his face and his brazen smile never wavered. “Stealing you may be America’s one great folly; however, she does not hold your company tonight.” Shifting Tena away from the veranda’s potentially prying eyes, he raised her hand to his lips. “May we adjourn somewhere more private?”
The moisture of his kiss cooled upon her fingers, while the rest of her warmed at his touch. He may not be as well-versed in literature as she, but he certainly understood how to craft a story well enough. The words he offered were exquisite, lovely, beautiful ... and potentially a great risk to her heart if found to be false. Yet, she longed for them to be as uncomplicated as they sounded. For tonight, she basked in every syllable.
“Can I be assured your intentions are honorable?”
He drew closer, his already dark eyes lost in the library’s shadows. “As honorable as any man. Whether more transpires between us than the shared conversation of two equals, that I leave to your good judgment.”
To be a wallflower no more, she thought. To feel cherished and adored after so long trying to not feel. She didn’t like the suggestion of an intimate arrangement without commitment or pursue a courtship from opposite shores ... except she could also still remember what a kiss felt like. Be more like your sister. Isn’t that what Bianca said? As much as Tena wanted the happiness Maggie and Hugo found, she wasn’t willing to claim it in the same manner. But one kiss was harmless. Even Charles earned a kiss the night they met. Surely she could give Mr. Troughton that without offering up any more?
“Miss Archer?”
She shook her head, too unnerved to say anything as her heart beat madly. She laid a trembling hand upon his shoulder and her corset pinched when he reciprocated the gesture at her waist. His Adam’s apple bobbed a melody of encouragement and that’s where her eyes rested.
“Mr. Troughton, you better get your bloomin’ hands off my wife, sir, or you won’t have any.”
The veranda door slammed, the rattle of glass echoing to the ceiling. Reuben closed the twenty-foot gap and eased Tena back against his chest. Fury flared in his features, but his grip on her arm remained gentle. Unlike his other hand trembling violently against her side.
“How long were you listening?” she gasped.
“Longer than would please you.”
Mr. Troughton’s brow furrowed. “Forgive me, but you’re with him? Mrs. Smith never mentioned—”
“She is,” Reuben interjected. “Married last month. Mrs. Smith wouldn’t let us steal attention from the party.” He yanked Tena’s hand into the man’s face to show their matching rings, the outline of hers visible beneath her glove. When Reuben didn’t propose to Hazel after a few months, Tena assumed he would stop wearing it, but he hadn’t. “Bands of gold, fool. Take the hint.”
“On your right hand, sir?” Mr. Troughton scoffed. “You jest me.”
“I’m German. It’s the way we do things in Deutschland.”
“You certainly do not appear German.”
“Yes, well, you neither appeared a cad, yet apparently you are one.”
The other man folded his arms. “Well, German, it may be disturbing to note that your bride has some extraneous desires. It would behoove you to keep her in line.”
“Yes, she is most difficult to keep in hand. We’ll change that now I think.” Reuben nudged Tena towards the door. “Tell Mr. Troughton goodnight, dearest.”
“Excuse me, but ... what?” she spluttered as he dragged her from the room with a tight-lipped nod to the group staring from the veranda. Bianca winked knowingly from behind her playing cards.
The instant the door closed, he released her and made for the staircase without so much as a word. She followed, tripping over her glamorous gown on the first step. “Blast this wretched thing!” Bunching the silky material in her hands, she marched after him, her shocked silence now exchanged for irritation. “Reuben Radford!” she hissed. “Stop this instant.”
Midway he turned and braced one hand on the banister. He towered over her, bearing down with eyes of steel. Well, this is discomforting, she thought and ascended to address him at eye level. “Reuben Radford,” she repeated. “Calling me your wife? What in the world has overcome you?”
Reuben exhaled loudly, ran a hand across his slicked back hair, and swore.
“That’s all I get?” she said. “Your foul mouth?”
He remained silent, neither his intense gaze nor his body relaxing in any manner. He gripped the banister and stared her down.
“Fine, don’t speak to me,” Tena spat. “I thought we were friends. Only I suppose not anymore.” Gathering her skirts, she huffed up the staircase to the gallery, then immediately turned and stomped back to one step above him.
“No,” she said. “I may not be your friend, but you are mine. As a friend, I have a right to know who gave you leave to barge into my affairs as you did?”
Silence reigned. Stone cold silence and eyes just as frozen.
Her chest heaved. “Let me be clear, Reuben. You are not my father or my brother. Neither are you my husband; therefore, you do not oversee my decisions. It isn’t for you to judge what I do or whom I do it with. If I’m through grieving Charles, that is my choice. If I want to become involved with another man, all you may do is accept it.”
Still, he didn’t move. The only sound emitting from his mouth was shallow breathing. Finally, he slid his hand from the banister to her shoulder. “Would Charles accept you following a man to his room when you wouldn’t even do that with him?”
“That’s so unfair.”
“Is it?”
It was Tena’s turn to freeze. She felt tears well and looked to the ceiling lest they fall. She wouldn’t cry. Tears meant she was in the wrong, and she wasn’t sure that she was. After all, it was only meant to be an innocent kiss. A kiss meant so little, didn’t it? Except when Charles kissed her, it hadn’t been meaningless. In that moment, she knew someday she wanted more. She had wanted everything. What if a kiss with Matthew Troughton felt like it had with Charles? What if this time she couldn’t stop?
Reuben slid his hand down her arm to her fingers, and his eyes finally softened. “This isn’t you, Tena. You know it isn’t. If you want me to be your friend, then let me. I can’t stand by and watch you give away the most precious thing you have.”
“You mean like you did with Maggie?”
Reuben frowned. “Now who’s being unfair? I loved Maggie. You don’t love Mr. Troughton.”
“Hazel told me you love her. Then you’ve been with her too?”
Reuben gritted his teeth. “No. I haven’t. I decided next time will be with my wife.”
“Well, sensational for you. Maggie has been with loads of men, Bianca too, and they enjoy it well enough.”
“You want to be cut from the same cloth as your sister? You’ll be full of regret.”
“I already have regrets.” Tena stared down at the hand he held, her glove a secure barrier between their skin. “Until Charles, I always went unnoticed, Reuben. Tonight, someone finally noticed me.”
He seemed to struggle with some inward emotion, breathing deeply, his voice strained. “This isn’t you,” he repeated. “I love you. Please don’t be with someone else.”
“You love me?” With a hiss, she ripped her fingers from his. This wasn’t happening. “How can you? You’re with Hazel.”
“Actually I’m not. We ended things before I left for London.”
“You-you-you and Hazel—” Tena stammered.
“Ended things,” he repeated. “She thought I didn’t love her. She wasn’t wrong.” He appeared like he wanted to say more, but she kept shaking her head and telling him he was wrong. This couldn’t be happening. Hazel loved him. She wouldn’t hurt him. You didn’t just walk away from someone so perfectly right.
Finally, he pressed a gentle hand to her lips. “Please, Tena. Let’s not complicate this. I love you like family. Like Fred or Emil.”
“Like you’re my brother?” she laughe
d. She felt both relieved and insulted. “Very well, brother dear, explain how you earned all my father’s respect and he left not even a crumb for me.”
“Laurence did respect you. Far more than you’re respecting yourself right now.” He clamped a hand on either of her bare arms, sending goose pimples along her flushed skin. With a tender squeeze, he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. “With his dying words, your father asked me to watch over you. He trusted me with your welfare, and I’ll be hung if I allow you to offer yourself to the first imbecile who sees in you what I’ve noticed all along.”
“Father asked you to watch me?” She pulled back to meet his eyes. “That’s what he leaves for me—a nanny? To keep me from swallowing a button and choking to death? Well, in the words of Mr. Washington Irving, ‘Ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves.’” Reuben was an expert on literary quotations, let him chew on that one for a while. She twisted out of his grip, the flesh where his touch lay now painfully cold.
“No matter what my father may have requested, it does not give you claim over my decisions. And if you noticed something no one else ever did, then you certainly should have spoken up long before now.” Her breath caught and she pressed a hand to her throat with a shuddered gasp. “You altered everything by being Abigail’s father. If you were really paying attention, you would have noticed that.”
It had been a guess, a wild suspicion she held since she started adding the pieces of Abigail’s birth together, and she immediately knew she hit the mark.
Like a kicked puppy, Reuben stared at her in disbelief, unable to respond to the fact that she knew a truth he never intended her to have. Tena trusted him with her life, while he still didn’t trust her with his. The astonishment on his face was like a slap to hers.