Harlan shrugged as he tossed her an indulgent smile. “How would you like to live in a place like this someday?”
“Oh no, it’s far too regal for me,” Lilly said before she had a chance to think.
A shadow of a frown crossed his even features and then vanished into a tight smile. “I’m sure you could become accustomed to a bit of luxury if you tried.”
“Of course.”
The Santerres’ mansion, situated on an expensive block of Fifth Avenue real estate, was equally as ornate as Ocean Vista. Harlan took such extravagance for granted. On the other hand, the Westbrooks’ shabby old townhouse couldn’t compare in either size or grandeur. Yet Lilly preferred its coziness, even if it was a bit on the worn side.
She left her wrap, along with her maid, in the ladies’ dressing room and accepted a card imprinted with the program of dances and a space for filling in the names of her partners. Harlan, as her escort, wasn’t allowed to monopolize all her time, so with her permission, he signed up for the first set of quadrilles, the last dance before supper, a march, and the final waltz of the evening. As soon as Harlan finished, Jack stepped forward.
He bowed with mock gravity that made her laugh. “May I have a waltz or two, Miss Westbrook?”
Harlan scowled.
“I’d be delighted.” The words slipped through Lilly’s lips, though the familiar flutter of her heart warned her to decline.
Why did Jack have such a disconcerting effect on her? From the time they’d first met, he ’d swept her into his orbit through the force of his dynamic personality. His dark eyes had lit like firecrackers in the night sky, captured her attention, and stirred her desire for more. No one else had caused her to look twice—except Harlan, of course, though to be honest, he didn’t ignite quite the same intensity. No doubt he would, as soon as Jack left Newport and she got to know Harlan better.
The line into the ballroom inched forward until the Westbrook party finally greeted their host and hostess at the ballroom entrance. Lilly proceeded inside, arm-in-arm with Harlan. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Jack edging closer. A grimace spread across his face. She stifled a smile as she turned away from him. She rather liked the novelty of having two men compete for her attention.
Strains of “The Blue Danube” filled the spacious ballroom and blended with the hum of dozens of conversations. A rainbow of color flashed through the room as young society ladies in pastel gowns danced round and round with partners dressed in black tailcoats and starched white shirts. Satin slippers and polished shoes lightly touched the floor as couples glided past the watchful eyes of the matrons.
“How nice to see you again, Lilly.”
She glanced down into the fox-like face of Nan Holloway, the oldest daughter of Mrs. Beatrice Carstairs. An acquaintance since childhood, they’d once suffered through dreadful dance and deportment lessons. Only Nan loved the tedious instructions. Her small feet hadn’t tangled up like Lilly’s, nor had she stumbled into boys half a head shorter.
Tonight she wore a gown of peach satin heavily embroidered with silver thread and seed pearls. Her pale blue eyes glittered as brightly as her diamond necklace and earrings.
“Nan, how are you?” Lilly asked.
Nan stretched up and leaned closer to whisper behind her Oriental fan. “I must say Mr. Santerre is taking a keen interest in you. You must be delighted—even a bit relieved.” Nan’s tiny eyes widened. “Mr. Santerre is quite the catch.” Her lips puckered with obvious envy.
Heat blasted through Lilly’s skin. “I’ve been waiting for the right gentleman.”
Lilly looked away, humiliated by the rarely spoken truth. No one had to explain she was indeed fortunate to have Harlan as a prospective husband. No one needed to emphasize she ’d been left on the shelf far too long in favor of prettier girls with livelier dispositions. But she wasn’t to be pitied. She might not possess the skills and attributes prized by society, but she was a good Christian woman with God-given talents. And that counted for something.
Harlan sidled up to her. “You look lost in your own private world.”
Lilly pinned on a smile. “I was.”
“Our quadrille set is next.”
She followed him onto the gleaming floor where they joined three other couples in the intricate steps of the dance.
His small, grayish eyes, nearly on a level with hers, glinted like new dimes. “I spoke to Kip Tareyton this afternoon and told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of his proposed merger.”
Lilly forced a smile. “Of the New England Railroad?” Titans from every branch of American industry converged this evening at Ocean Vista.
“The very same.”
Lilly smiled politely as he rambled on, but her attention drifted off as his words folded into the music. “Perhaps we can discuss this later when I can hear you more clearly.”
He nodded, but his lips pressed together. As soon as the orchestra stopped playing, Harlan continued right where he ’d left off. Commerce seemed to be the only topic to sustain his interest. Strange she never noticed that before.
Dressed in white tie and tails, Jack looked every inch the prosperous gentleman. He claimed her for the next waltz and much to her dismay, she found her spirits rising. With his arm clasped tightly about her waist, Jack whirled her around the edge of the dance floor. Lilly’s heart raced as she followed his expert lead.
She loved the pressure of their hands entwined, and even though they both wore gloves, a current of excitement surged through her. The flash of his eyes suggested he might feel the same thrill. His warm breath fell upon her cheek and sent a quiver of delight sliding down her spine.
She hadn’t tingled like this since before he ’d left her.
He dared to press her even closer and she didn’t resist. She remembered how they’d sometimes danced at Christmas balls during Jack and George ’s last year of college. Only eighteen years old and just out in society, she’d worn new gowns in cranberry taffeta, emerald velvet, and winter white. Yards of lace and ribbon decorated the exquisite fabrics. She ’d waltzed in delicate slippers dyed to match her frocks, sipped punch, and ate a midnight supper with Jack.
As they whirled around the floor, Lilly remembered talking with Jack for long hours in quiet corners—of everything and nothing. She ’d believed they were soul mates and nothing could mar their romance. But she ’d been so very wrong. Hadn’t she?
As they spun around the ballroom, she noticed the flash of Irene ’s sapphire and diamond necklace and the royal blue satin of her gown. Irene’s broad smile focused upon her partner, a young man with a beard the color of cinnamon and a fringe of curls semicircling his balding head. Lilly didn’t know him, but that wasn’t surprising.
When the music ended, the little man with the reddish curls retrieved two glasses of champagne and led Irene over to a gilded corner. In moments they were obscured by a profusion of lacy ferns and palm fronds.
“Do you know that gentleman’s name?” Lilly asked Jack as he guided her from the dance floor. Irene looked more absorbed in conversation than she ought.
“You’re asking the wrong person.” Jack shrugged. “I know many people from school or business here, but not the man speaking to Irene.”
“It’s not important. I was merely curious.”
Jack frowned at the unlikely pair. “Maybe you think Irene looks a bit too—absorbed—in the man.”
Lilly blushed. “I should deny it, of course, because it’s shameful to think the worst of anyone, especially your brother’s wife. But the thought did cross my mind.”
They wove their way over to the punch bowl, leaving the couple head to head behind the greenery. Lilly sipped the sweet liquid as they retreated to the relative seclusion of an open door leading out to the terrace. A welcome sea breeze swept inside, cooling off the overheated ballroom. In the inky blackness outside, lit only by a half moon and the glow of Japanese lanterns, Lilly noticed a few couples daring to slip away into the night. If they were
caught, they’d pay a heavy price for their foolishness. The matrons who controlled the New York elite that migrated to Newport for the summer would cut off an offender by denying prized invitations.
Jack’s soft wool tailcoat brushed against her bare upper arm and long glove. She inched away, but his magnetic attraction kept her much too close for comfort.
“I noticed Harlan Santerre has taken a strong interest in you. Since you and I are old friends, might I ask if he has serious intentions?”
“You’re still quite blunt, even after all these years.” She met his stare. He had no right to pry. “The answer is yes, I believe his intentions are serious.”
“He’s a fine fellow, I hear. I don’t know him well myself, except from school. We don’t run around in the same circles.” Jack’s smile was dry.
Lilly chuckled at Jack’s expression. “Neither do I, usually. He’s provided George, Irene, and me an entrée into fashionable society and we ’re grateful for his kindness.”
Jack’s eyebrows arched. “You never used to seek society’s pleasures.”
Did he think she was a prim and proper spinster with only books to keep her company? Perhaps she was, but she needed no reminding. “I do like dances and dinners every once in a while, though I’ll admit, I’m more introverted than most ladies.”
“Then you’ll be in for a great upheaval if you marry Mr. Santerre. He ’ll expect you to entertain lavishly and often.”
“No, you’re quite mistaken. He likes a quiet life as much as I do.”
“Oh? George told me you’ve attended every social event in every cottage throughout the summer. I don’t suppose that was your idea.”
“Actually it wasn’t, but I wish you wouldn’t gossip about me with my brother. It’s true I’m out every nearly every night, but that’s primarily to please George and Irene—and Mama.” Her voice rose. “Neither Harlan nor I care one whit for this extravagant kind of life.” She gestured toward the marble and gilt ballroom. “I enjoy society from time to time, but it’s not a priority in my life.”
“And what is important to you?” he asked, inviting intimacy she wouldn’t accept.
Her lips tightened, thinking of one part of her life that must remain unspoken. “My family and friends are most dear to me— along with my work at the Christian Settlement House. Social events are a distant third.”
Jack touched her shoulder and blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Lilly. I’ve lost my good manners and my good sense. It’s obvious you’re fond of Harlan. In all sincerity, I wish you all the best—or at least, I’m trying to.”
She pulled away, but lowered her voice. “Then why does it seem like you are criticizing me?”
“I only want to warn you that this fashionable world is far removed from what you’ve ever experienced or ever wanted.”
“You have no idea what I’m like now, Jack, or how I wish to live in the future. Don’t assume you know me better than I know myself.” At her raised voice, several people glanced their way.
Jack blocked her from the onlookers’ stares. “I apologize for invading your privacy. Your affairs are none of my business. However, I’m concerned about you. I want you to be happy.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Lilly’s voice wavered and she blinked back tears. Drops of her pain, bottled up like poison, began to spill out. “You once asked me to marry you, and then that very night you withdrew your proposal. You walked away and I never heard from you again. Now you expect me to believe you want me to be happy?”
Jack winced and turned pale. “I’m sorry. I never should have left like that. I did want to marry you, but you know your father would never have allowed it.”
Her heart hammered so fast she feared it might burst through the bodice of her gown. All the hurt and anger she ’d suppressed poured out with hurricane force, sweeping away all sense of propriety. “How do you know that’s true? You never even asked him. Why did you give up so easily? How could you walk away?”
“I’m sorry.” Jack’s eyes reflected compassion and a plea for understanding. It was clear the love was still there between them. It had never died. But as he shook his head, staring at her, she realized that wasn’t the case. Just when she ’d caught the eye of Harlan Santerre, Jack had burst onto the scene, stirring up dormant feelings, ripping open old wounds. Jack didn’t want her, but neither did he want her to marry someone else.
“If you’re not going to account for your”—she bit back the word cowardly—“inexplicable behavior, then let’s end this conversation right now.” She’d make a fool of herself and lose all her dignity if they spoke any longer. Lilly leaned against the stone pillar, trying to calm her shaking legs.
Jack paused and then released a weary sigh. “I’m sorry for causing you so much distress. It certainly wasn’t my intention. Please forgive me.”
He turned and receded into the blur of black evening attire and shimmering gowns. Standing motionless in the shadows, Lilly wished with every fiber of her being he ’d never come to Newport.
She turned away, staring out through the dark windows. Why had he abandoned her when she ’d loved him so completely? Why did he not pursue her now? In no way could she compare favorably with society’s beauties, the fashionable, rich, flirtatious. She’d never competed, sparing herself hurt and humiliation. But she ’d opened her heart to Jack and he ’d crushed it and tossed it away like a sheet of foolscap.
Then Harlan rescued her from the shame of fading into the wallpaper. He deserved every ounce of her gratitude and loyalty. He treated her with the admiration accorded the most sought after heiresses, raising her self-assurance, diminishing her shy awkwardness. She had felt cherished and esteemed for the first time since Jack’s abandonment.
Yet, was it enough?
The luster of the evening dulled. Suddenly, the French furniture set against priceless tapestries seemed overdone and the rococo details of the ballroom pure ostentation. Even if the other guests were delighted to prance around the dance floor or indulge in the rich delicacies served in the supper room, she wanted the seclusion of her home and her own bedroom. She knew this wasn’t the abundant life Jesus spoke about in Scripture.
Tears stung the back of her eyes as she stood alone in the midst of the crowd. How ironic that Jack had returned right after she ’d finally gotten over his betrayal and found the man to take his place. Was she so superficial she couldn’t appreciate Harlan’s steadfast devotion? Why did Jack still attract her as no one else ever had? She buried her head in her hands.
Lord, please help me to banish Jack from my life. I can’t seem to do it on my own.
With a frown furrowing her brow, Irene approached from the noisy ballroom. Harlan trailed behind looking equally upset.
“Is something the matter, Lilly?” Irene drew close and Lilly caught a subtle whiff of her sister-in-law’s gardenia corsage.
Harlan’s rather bland face squeezed with equal concern. “I saw Jackson storm off. I hope he didn’t upset you in some way. He hardly has the manners of a gentleman, given his upbringing.”
Lilly flared. “I assure you his manners are impeccable. And he comes from a respectable family, even if they aren’t rich.”
Harlan shrugged his sloping shoulders, looking bored. “Perhaps you’re right. I certainly don’t wish to quarrel over Jackson Grail.” He emphasized the name with a roll of his eyes.
Glancing back toward the ballroom with unconcealed longing, Irene sighed. “Do come. The evening is young and there ’s so much more dancing to do.”
Lilly shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She lifted a hand to her forehead. “I suddenly have the worst of headaches. I’d like to return to Summerhill.” At Irene ’s crestfallen face, she softened. “Please don’t offer to go home with me, either one of you. I’m fine, only dreadfully tired. You two enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“If you’re sure . . .” Irene clasped Lilly’s hands. “I would love to stay a while longer. Dancing is such fun. Harlan can ride home wit
h George and me and Mr. Grail.”
“Splendid.”
Harlan hesitated. “Are you certain, Lilly? I’d be delighted to escort you home. In fact, I really ought to.”
“Thank you, but I refuse to cut your evening short.” She tossed him what she hoped was a warm, reassuring smile.
Excusing herself, Lilly wound her way toward the ladies’ dressing room. Dozens of maids clustered in the area, ready to repair ripped gowns or smooth disheveled hairdos.
In front of the doorway she spotted Annie shaking her head as she inched away from the fellow with the reddish curls—the same man who’d cornered Irene among the plants. Lilly slipped behind the fountain. Through the spray of crystal droplets, she saw only a blurred outline of their faces, but by squinting, she could distinguish Annie ’s furtive glance around the foyer. Why was this man pestering her maid?
While Lilly considered whether to approach the pair, Annie disappeared into the dressing room and he slunk back to the ballroom. What a strange little man, bony and white as a corpse, ogling her sister-in-law and now her maid.
Lilly crossed the vestibule and found Annie packing up her sewing kit. “Who was that man you spoke to a few moments ago?”
Annie frowned. “I don’t know, miss. He didn’t say.” She rearranged a pin cushion and an assortment of colored threads.
Lilly tapped her fan against her skirt. “I’m curious. What did he want from you?”
“He stopped at the door and asked for Mrs. Westbrook’s maid. Since I help both you ladies, I came forward.”
Lilly held her breath. “And?”
Annie avoided Lilly’s steady gaze and fussed with her sewing kit. “He said Mrs. Irene Westbrook needed a pin to mend a tear in the hem of her gown.”
“Don’t you think that was unusual?”
“Why yes, miss, I most certainly do, but the gentleman explained she was dancing and didn’t want to take the time out to get it fixed proper like.”
Lilly nodded. That sounded like Irene, though it still seemed odd she wouldn’t pause for a necessary stitch or two. It seemed a task more appropriate for a husband than a stranger.
Love on a Dime Page 10