Deception at Sable Hill

by Shelley Gray

  “A lady like that needs compassion? For what?” Her voice rose. “What could she possibly have that has necessitated her needing a helping hand?”

  “It is her private business. I’m afraid I can’t share.”

  Maeve thrust one of her hips out as she glared at him. “What happened? Did one of her maids not iron a ball gown just so?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know. Maybe she had a small, unsightly blemish appear on her cheek. That would certainly mar her perfect life.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “Or did one of her many beaus not save a dance for her? I’ve heard that a hurriedly filled dance card can be a terrible thing in her social circle.”

  Sean stood up. As he did so, he looked down at her with something akin to scorn in his eyes. “For the record, you used to be far nicer. You used to think of other people.”

  “I do think about people who need my concern. I help out at Hope House, don’t I?”

  “I came over here the other evening to ask you to show some Christian charity to Eloisa. To try to look beyond her wealth and privilege to the person she is inside. Years ago, I wouldn’t have even thought that I would need to do that. I would’ve assumed that you would be there for her, no matter what. But now I’m not even sure you would be willing to reach out to her again as a favor for me. What’s happened to you?”

  “Life happened. As well as the fact that I, for one, am more than willing to accept the reality of our situation.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, Sean Ryan, that you may mix with society by moonlighting at balls and galas. You might even know a couple of gents because Owen Howard has decided to go slumming. Some people might even give you the time of day because you’re a fancy police lieutenant, and a good one at that. But the truth of the matter is that you are no closer to being friends with Eloisa Carstairs than I am with President Cleveland. You’re just too different. And if you think differently, you’re fooling yourself, Sean. She’s going to hurt you something awful too. Mark my words.”

  His sister’s words stung, mainly because they had a grain of truth to them. “You have things all wrong.”

  “No, brother. It’s you who has things all wrong. Anytime Eloisa Carstairs says good-bye to you, she’ll go home to her mansion. She’ll go into a bedroom that’s likely bigger than half my house, and a maid will attend her. Servants will bring her tea on carts. Other servants will prepare her food, serve it up to her, remove the plates, and wash them. And then she’ll change for bed by getting into a nightgown that someone else washed and pressed, and slide under sheets in a bed that someone else made. But first her lady’s maid will take down her hair. And when she looks in the mirror, she’s going to see herself. And she’s beautiful.”

  Her voice cracked. “She has everything, Sean. She has everything and she wants more. She’s going to want to marry a man who can give her more. No matter what you might think, she is not going to want to marry someone like you.”

  “You sound as if you’ve thought a lot about how a lady like her lives.” Of course, the moment he said those words, Sean ached to take them back. She certainly didn’t deserve either his words or tone.

  “Of course I have, Sean,” she replied with more than a trace of bitterness laced in her tone. “I’ve got me a cozy home, a good man, and two healthy children. I’m blessed, and I don’t mean for the Lord to think I’m not appreciative of that.” She lowered her voice. “But I’d be lying to both you and myself if I acted like I was never envious of a lady like her.”

  He shook his head. He didn’t know everything there was to know about Eloisa. Far from that. However, he now knew her well enough to realize that it would be a grave mistake to believe that Eloisa Carstairs was only the sum of her appearance. “No—”

  “She has everything, Sean,” she repeated. “Everything. And the sad thing of it is, she is still looking for more, even for someone like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Stay away from her. Knowing her will only do you harm. I mean it.”

  “I’m going to leave now.”

  She slumped. “Yes. Yes, I believe that would be a fine idea.”

  He turned, but not before whispering, “Maeve, I hear what you’re saying, I do. And if we were talking about a different woman, I would say you were exactly right.”

  “But?”

  “But I know Eloisa. And I know what she’s been through and I know what her dreams are. And I can promise you that it would be a grave mistake to judge her only on her looks and wealth. The Lord gave us full lives, made us whole people, Maeve. We’re not simple paper dolls that can be bent and prodded and transformed with a twist and a pull. We have hearts and souls and dreams and feelings. Even people like you and me. And even wealthy women like Eloisa Carstairs.”

  Maeve’s lips parted. Obviously she was stunned by his small speech. “I’m sorry, Sean,” she murmured.

  “I’m sorry too.” He knew he should step closer and promise her forgiveness. But at the moment he was too angry with his sister and too struck by the feelings that were coursing through him to do anything but step into the dark evening.

  He’d just defended Eloisa with everything that he was, he realized. Because she was important to him.

  Far too important to give up. Even if that was the smart thing to do.

  CHAPTER 13

  Another evening, another formal affair. As Juliet picked up another hairpin and artfully arranged her chignon, Eloisa gazed at her reflection in the mirror and tried to drum up some enthusiasm for the evening’s event.

  She couldn’t do it.

  Yet again, her plans included dressing up in a very expensive gown to spend the evening in the home of one of her parents’ very particular acquaintances. Once she arrived, admired every other lady’s very expensive gown, she would converse with several suitable gentlemen.

  After that, one of those men would escort her into a warm—because too many people would have been invited—extremely fragrant—because too many artfully arranged flower arrangements would be on display—dining room.

  She would then smile, make scintillating conversation, and appear interested in whatever the gentleman at her side wished to talk about while eating mere bites of each offering during a lengthy, seven-course meal. This, of course, would be preceded by aperitifs and followed by forced banter with some of the same fifty people who always attended these events.

  She was likely to be seated with an eligible bachelor, someone of social standing who was in the market for a wealthy bride.

  Or, perhaps it would be a gentleman of somewhat lesser rank who was a close friend of the hostess, or to whom the hostess owed a favor. This man would be more charming, more effusive in his compliments, more attentive. And because of all these things, infinitely more desperate.

  Two years ago, when she’d made her debut, her mother and father had sat her down on a settee in the formal drawing room and systematically explained the truths that would now govern her life.

  The first truth was that Eloisa must always, always be aware that there were few people as wealthy as the Carstairs family.

  Eloisa had been stunned.

  Oh, not by the announcement, of course. For most of her life, she’d realized that most everyone in Chicago did not live like the Carstairs family at the top of Sable Hill. Their estate encompassed more than two acres. Dressmakers and milliners delivered their creations to their home for perusal. Almost twenty servants were employed by the family to see to their every need.

  However, she’d also learned at a young age never to speak of such things. “There is nothing more bourgeois than speaking about one’s wealth, dear,” her mother had intoned again and again.

  The second truth was that even without their wealth, the Carstairs family enjoyed a stellar reputation. That meant not only were they well thought of, but they were somewhat lauded by others.

  And that meant that under no circumstances could Eloisa do anything
to taint this hard-earned status.

  And that meant that Eloisa could not forget to always look her best, behave her best, and never, ever forget that she was being watched.

  “People are always waiting for you to make a fool of yourself, Eloisa. Take care not to give them something to talk about,” her father had warned. “Remember, once a reputation has been lost, it can never be regained. Ever.”

  The third edict was both similar to and quite different from one given to her brother.

  Thomas, being a boy, had been told not to let some desperate girl encourage him to make foolish choices. Soon after his lecture, he’d been sent back to boarding school, then Yale, then given leave to tour the continent for a full year.

  She, on the other hand, had been told her duty was to marry well. Very well.

  She’d also been repeatedly warned that her name, combined with her beauty and their wealth, would attract all sorts of nefarious men. Men who would do or say almost anything to reap the benefits of marriage to her.

  “Just because you’re available, it doesn’t mean you are available to just anyone, Eloisa,” her mother advised.

  Years ago, when she was fifteen and sixteen, and perhaps more enamored of herself than she should have been, Eloisa had been hurt that her mother had never taken into account her personality or her humor or her grace, or anything that made her Eloisa, not simply a Carstairs.

  But now that she’d made her debut, she’d learned that the core of her mother’s words had merit. Some men did, indeed, strive to marry into her family. Some attempted to lie about it.

  Now that she was older?

  Most leaned toward honesty.

  She leaned that way, too, and toward entertainment. Which was why she was secretly hoping that tonight’s event would entail a favor owed to the hostess. She could use a laugh. She could use a few minutes of meaningless flattery. Anything to take her mind off the fact that she’d been measured up and found less than desirable by a group of destitute women in a charitable home.

  For a woman who had always been taught that she was the epitome of everything that everyone else wanted? It had been a blow to her ego.

  Juliet met her gaze in the mirror. “Any idea with whom you’ll be paired this evening, miss?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Maybe it’s that handsome Mr. Gardner.”

  Eloisa felt a faint tremor course through her. For some reason, she never felt comfortable around Quentin. “I hope not.”

  Juliet looked at her closely, then shrugged. “Well, I’m sure your mother has someone special in mind.”

  “She always does,” Eloisa said with a wry smile. “I just hope it isn’t Baron Humphrey again.”

  “Remind me who that is?” Before Eloisa could think of an appropriate adjective to describe just how boring Baron was, Juliet held up a pin in each of her hands. “The pearl or sapphire stick pin tonight, Miss Carstairs?”

  She didn’t care. She wasn’t sure if she ever had. “What gown am I wearing tonight?”

  “Your mother wanted the sea foam, miss,” Juliet said with a hint of a smile.

  Eloisa knew that gown. Its hue complemented her coloring exquisitely, making her look even more delicate than her blonde hair, light-blue eyes, and slim frame already did. Its cut was demure, and its fit was forgiving enough that Juliet wouldn’t even have to cinch her corset strings as tight as she usually did.

  The dress was everything proper. Everything boring. Everything that would cause a man to notice her but then forget about her easily. She would blend in with the rest of the room. Look pretty but not stand out.

  Exactly how her mother believed she should always look.

  Exactly the opposite of how she’d been feeling lately.

  Perhaps it was the constant nightmares, the lack of sleep? Perhaps it was her time over at Hope House, or even her burgeoning friendship with Sean Ryan.

  Whatever the reason, she knew she was tired of being relegated to the shadows. She was eager to be bold. To stand out, at least for a time.

  Thinking quickly, she said, “Juliet, what about the ivory gown with the black lace overlay? Is it in poor shape?”

  Juliet’s eyes filled with hurt. “Of course it’s not in poor shape.”

  “I meant, I don’t want you to have to press it.”

  “I wouldn’t have to press it, Miss Eloisa. It is in perfect order.” Her lips curved up, making Eloisa realize that Juliet, too, was eager to shake things up a bit.

  “In that case, I would like to wear that gown instead of anything sea foam. And I think the sapphires in my hair.”

  “And your black lace fan?”

  “Yes, and the black gloves.”

  Juliet’s eyes sparkled. “Miss Eloisa, you know your mother prefers you to wear white gloves. She doesn’t feel black gloves are proper for a young lady. Most especially not at a dinner party.”

  Privately, Eloisa didn’t think they were either. But she wasn’t a young girl anymore.

  “I know she doesn’t. However, the gloves will be on my hands and arms, not hers.”

  Their eyes met in the mirror. Slowly Juliet smiled, giving Eloisa what she needed, an ally in asserting her independence.

  “I don’t know whether to praise your courage or warn you to prepare yourself, Miss Carstairs. Your mother won’t hesitate to make her displeasure known.”

  “We should probably be ready for anything, then,” she said as she watched Juliet carefully place the pair of blue sapphire pins into her chignon. As she imagined, the jewels stood out like fireflies against her hair, drawing one’s attention to how shining and golden it was. “Tonight I find I’m tired of simply doing what is expected of me. There has got to be more to me than just a pretty face.”

  “There is much more, miss. And begging your pardon, Miss Carstairs, but it does my heart good to see you smiling and to see you’ve got some of your spunk back. It’s been awhile. I mean, from what I have observed it has been.”

  Though Eloisa had never shared with Juliet what had happened with Douglass, sometimes she feared Juliet had guessed. For weeks after her attack, Juliet had stayed close, taking longer on Eloisa’s toilet, brushing her hair with a little more care, fussing over her just a little bit more than she used to.

  Juliet was nothing if not an extremely talented lady’s maid, but, still, it had been an odd thing. Though Juliet never said much about her life before she came to service on Sable Hill, and though she was a year younger than Eloisa, Eloisa imagined Juliet was far more knowledgeable in the ways of the world than she could ever hope to be.

  All of that was exactly why Eloisa had known her behavior had worried her sweet lady’s maid to no end. “Yes, it has been awhile. But perhaps it is time.”

  Crossing to the bed, Juliet carefully gathered the sea-foam gown in her arms. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time, Juliet.”

  And for the first time in many weeks, she was actually looking forward to the night out. Surely it wasn’t simply because of the change of gown.

  Perhaps, instead, it was because she’d finally gotten herself back. She was going to be a little bit more daring, a little bit more bold. A little bit like the person she thought she’d be . . . before she’d understood what it meant to be Eloisa Carstairs.

  And what it meant to be at a man’s mercy.

  Eloisa’s new resolve lasted just until the time she walked down the staircase and saw who was waiting for her. Owen Howard. Detective Owen Howard.

  Immediately, her thoughts turned to Sean’s warnings about how women still weren’t safe in the city. Had the Slasher struck again?

  “Detective,” she said when she reached the bottom step. “Is everything all right?”

  Owen, all golden good looks and good manners, strode to her side, clasped her hand, and helped her down the last step.

  He’d always been polite. Always exceptionally debonair.

  But rarely had he ever looked at her the way he was at the moment—a
mixture of adoration and admiration.

  “Owen, what is going on?”

  He also smoothly ignored her plea. “Eloisa, may I say that you look beautiful this evening? I’m simply captivated.”

  She blinked, then became aware of her mother watching them from the edge of the foyer.

  Raising her voice, she played her part right back. “You are too kind, Detective Howard.”

  He leaned closer. “Please call me Owen. After all, we’ve known each other for a long time.”

  She almost smiled. “You know I cannot call you that in public.”

  A dimple appeared. “You know what that does, don’t you? You are giving me hope that we’ll be together in private.”

  A bolt of alarm shot through her. Though, of course, he meant nothing nefarious, she couldn’t help the shudder of revulsion that coursed through her. Afraid he noticed, she forced herself to giggle. “I am shocked, Owen.”

  Yet again, he directed their repartee. “No worries,” he whispered as he bent his head closer to hers. “You have to know half of what I say is all for your mother’s benefit.”

  “Of course.”

  As if her mother knew she was being summoned, she stepped forward. “Eloisa, I saw Owen’s mother at a charity event not a week ago. When we realized that the both of you had received an invitation to the Lawrences, we decided it would be a wonderful thing for him to accompany you.”

  “It is wonderful. So wonderful.” Eloisa barely controlled her temper. This, this . . . date had been planned for days, and her mother had never found it necessary to inform her of it? Of course, on its heels was the awareness that she’d told her mother time and again that she had no interest in either her social calendar or who escorted her to events.

  Wisely ignoring Eloisa’s sarcasm, her mother gazed at her dress with a critical eye. “I wanted you to wear the sea foam this evening. I spoke to Juliet about that myself.”