by Jen Turano
“I don’t know if I’d call what Caroline and I experienced with the peacocks an adventure, but it did succeed in embarrassing Caroline in front of none other than Mr. Ward McAllister, something she’s having a difficult time putting behind her.”
Lucetta’s smile slid right off her face. “I will never understand why everyone puts so much stock in what Mr. McAllister thinks. If you ask me, he’s a bit nauseating, what with his constant fawning over Caroline Astor and his habit of calling her his Mystic Rose. People who work in theater absolutely loathe when he and the whole Astor crowd descend on a performance. They always arrive smack in the middle of the second act, and then they proceed to chat on and off throughout the rest of the play. That makes it very difficult to understand why they bother going to the theater in the first place. And from what I’ve been told, their behavior is even worse at the opera, where they don’t bother to pay attention to the performance at all.”
Everett brushed some sand from his sleeve. “You must know that they only go to the theater and opera to be seen.”
“They can be seen without speaking. I don’t believe it’s too much to ask of society to show some common courtesy, especially since they’re the ones who are always going on and on about proprieties.” She pursed her lips. “Why, Mr. McAllister is one of the worst offenders when it comes to rudeness, and yet he has the audacity to speak about actresses as if all of us are . . . women of questionable repute.”
“While you have a very valid point, Lucetta, and one I haven’t actually considered before, Mr. McAllister is a gentleman of a certain age, and as such you should expect such behavior.”
“Mr. McAllister is a snob, Everett, and I do believe he’s suffered from that condition since birth, as do most of the society people I meet.”
Everett stopped brushing at the sand. “I’m not a snob.”
“Who else would say—in a snotty tone of voice, no less—that they don’t normally kiss the nanny?” Lucetta shot back.
“I have to believe a lot of gentlemen don’t spend their time kissing the nanny since their wives probably wouldn’t appreciate that.”
“You’re completely missing the point, and . . .” Lucetta stopped talking when Dorothy snuck into their midst.
“I do hope I’m interrupting some type of riveting discussion,” she said before she nodded to Lucetta. “Were you just arguing with my son?”
Lucetta was smiling again, far too sweetly, but before she could answer Dorothy, Everett stepped forward.
“I don’t believe you’ve met Miss Plum before, Mother.”
After Everett took a moment to perform proper introductions, Dorothy beamed a smile Lucetta’s way. “I must say, Miss Plum, that even though you and I have never met, since I’ve seen almost all of your plays, I feel as if you and I are already friends. But, tell me, dear, what in the world are you doing in Newport? I thought I read in the paper that you were performing in a new play, written by that oh-so-mysterious Mr. Grimstone.”
Lucetta nodded and then launched into the sad tale regarding the electric lights, chatting back and forth with Dorothy as if they really had been great friends forever.
“ . . . so, since the electric lights were responsible for causing quite a bit of damage, the theater had to close, which is why I’m here.”
“If I ever become an actress,” Elizabeth said as she skipped right into their midst and sent a smile to Lucetta. “I’m never going to perform in a theater that has electric lights.”
Lucetta returned the smile. “While I do believe your Uncle Everett might have something to say about your even contemplating becoming an actress, dear, why don’t you like electric lights? They’re being proclaimed as the great invention for the future these days.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “People might be keen on them right now, Miss Plum, but my daddy had tons and tons of electric lights in his barn back in Boston, all by different inventors, and none of them ever worked like the inventors said they were going to work.”
“One light inventor even caught the barn on fire with his invention,” Thaddeus said as he pulled Rose along beside him to join everyone. “Daddy was really mad because that man’s light exploded and flames started shooting out everywhere. He and that inventor had some words after the fire got put out, and then the inventor stormed out of the barn and raced away on his horse.”
The hair on the back of Millie’s neck stood to attention, as she suddenly remembered—what with all the peacocks rampaging and tennis matches that had gone amok—that she’d not spent any time at all thinking about the mystery surrounding what had actually happened back in Boston with Fred and Violet Burkhart.
“When did that take place—the argument your father had with the inventor?” Millie finally asked.
Elizabeth’s forehead creased. “It was a while ago, but Daddy was always having words with inventors. They didn’t like when he wouldn’t give them money, but he only gave money if inventions worked.”
Millie caught Everett’s eye. “You don’t suppose . . . ?” she began, but stopped midword when she realized all three children were watching her closely. Summoning up a smile, she found herself voicing the first thing that popped to mind. “Who wants to go back with me to the cottage and collect our kites? It’s a lovely day to fly kites, and if we’re lucky, Miss Pickenpaugh will be having her late-morning tea right about now, so we should be able to avoid running into her.”
“Who is Miss Pickenpaugh?” Lucetta asked.
“She’s the lady Caroline hired to prepare the house for the ball we’re hosting in a few days,” Everett said before he actually winced. “She’s a bit of a nightmare, which is why all of us try our very best to avoid her.”
“If you’d simply allowed me to help with the organization of this ball, Everett,” Dorothy said as she stepped closer to Everett. “You wouldn’t currently have Miss Pickenpaugh wreaking havoc at Seaview, and you’d be saving quite a bit of money as well.”
“Caroline brought in Miss Pickenpaugh because she wants to make certain this ball is particularly special.”
The air crackled with tension as Dorothy stepped closer to Everett and began to whisper furiously in his ear. Millie didn’t need to hear the words to know what Dorothy was upset about.
Everett and Caroline were apparently making plans to move forward in their relationship, and that meant . . . they’d be planning a wedding before too long.
Millie’s stomach immediately began to churn even though she’d been trying to convince herself that, what with Everett’s peculiar behavior toward her of late, she didn’t care for him. She’d been having difficulty with that convincing, though, especially since she kept catching Everett watching her, something tha—
“If Caroline is refusing to visit Seaview, how in the world is she going to attend your ball?” Lucetta asked, breaking through Millie’s disturbing thoughts.
“I’m hoping we’ll have the peacock situation well in hand by that time,” Everett said.
“And if you don’t?”
“I’d rather not think about that.”
“That would be one way to settle the whole special-ball moment once and for all,” Dorothy said as she ignored Everett’s immediate argument and turned to Millie. “But I find I’m growing weary of this particular subject. Didn’t you mention something about kites?”
“Good heavens, I almost forgot,” Lucetta exclaimed before Millie could respond. “We can’t go fetch any kites, because Abigail wants me to invite everyone over to her cottage for a special treat.”
“Is the special treat a dog?” Thaddeus asked, looking hopefully up at Lucetta.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s not. Although, speaking of dogs . . . No, never mind about that right now.” Lucetta squatted down next to Thaddeus, who was looking a bit glum. “The special treat is actually an odd contraption Abigail pulled out of her carriage house called a bathing machine. She’s already had it taken down to her private beach, and we’re going to try it out today.”
“We’re going to use it to bathe in the ocean?” Thaddeus asked slowly.
“Or something like that,” Lucetta said. “I have yet to see this bathing machine, so I’m not really sure what it does. But in order to find out the answer to that, we need to go gather up appropriate bathing gear.”
“Bathing machines were all the rage when I was a young girl, but I haven’t seen one in years,” Dorothy said before she nodded. “I’d love to come, although Fletcher isn’t at home today. He’s gone off to the Reading Room.” She quirked a brow at Everett. “You could join us though.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Mother. I promised Caroline I’d take her to Bailey’s Beach.”
Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “Bailey’s Beach is a horrid spot to swim. There’s seaweed everywhere.”
“It’s secluded,” Everett said. “And it even has private bathing huts a person can use to change out of wet attire after their day in the sun is done.”
“What do you think a bathing machine’s for? And again, even though Bailey’s Beach seems to be the beach of choice these days for society members, it’s not the best beach around to enjoy the water.” She smiled. “I imagine there’s more fun to be found at Abigail’s private beach, especially since the children, Millie, Lucetta, Abigail, and, of course, I will be there.” Her smile widened. “I must admit that I’m looking forward to spending the afternoon with Abigail. She’s far more pleasant than I remembered and has been an absolute joy to have at all those society luncheons I keep feeling compelled to attend.”
Lucetta cleared her throat. “Forgive me, but did you just say that Abigail’s taken to mingling with Newport society?”
“Since Millie’s been occupied with the children so much, you really shouldn’t find that to be a surprise, Miss Plum. Or is it acceptable for me to call you Lucetta?” Dorothy asked.
“You may certainly call me by my given name, but . . . why is Abigail mingling with society?” Lucetta pressed.
Dorothy looked a little shifty, and when she hesitated with a response, Lucetta sent a glare Everett’s way. “This is your fault, and if I suddenly find myself inundated with gentlemen callers, it’s not going to be pleasant for you.” She sent him a sniff, grabbed hold of Elizabeth’s hand, and nodded to Thaddeus and Rose. “Children, come with me.”
Without bothering to say anything else, Lucetta marched away with her head held high, although the sounds of additional sniffs followed her all the way back to the cliff walk.
“All of this would be much easier if everyone weren’t so stubborn and would take advice from ladies who only have their best interest at heart,” Dorothy mumbled before she hurried after Lucetta.
Everett turned his attention to Millie. “What do you think that was all about?”
“If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say Lucetta’s blaming you for not complying with Abigail’s schemes. Because of that noncompliance, Lucetta now feels Abigail is turning her plotting ways in Lucetta’s direction, with your mother’s assistance, of course.”
Everett frowned. “Abigail wasn’t really serious about the two of us forming some type of alliance, was she? Matches between a nanny and a society gentleman might happen on the pages of a romance novel, but in real life, they simply never occur.”
Temper came from out of nowhere, and not all of it directed at him.
She’d been a complete ninny—she was absolutely certain about that now.
Even though she’d claimed over and over again that she wasn’t attracted to the gentleman standing before her, she . . . was. But it was ridiculous, that attraction.
He was, and would always be, a member of the social set, even if he had made himself agreeable to her by drawing closer to the children and picking up one of her favorite novels to read.
It was almost as if she’d subconsciously convinced herself that by his reading Pride and Prejudice, he’d suddenly turn into Mr. Darcy, proclaim his very great affection for her, and . . . whisk her off to his estate in England, or the mansion on Fifth Avenue—given that that was where he lived—and . . . they’d live happily ever after.
Her temper burned hotter.
How could she have been so foolish? She wasn’t a foolish sort of lady, even with the mischief she got into now and again, but there was just something about Mr. Everett Mulberry that had obviously made her a little . . . insane.
“Did you ever finish Pride and Prejudice?”
Everett blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Pride and Prejudice—did you ever finish reading it?”
“Well, ah . . . it wasn’t really to my taste.”
“Of course it wasn’t.” Ignoring the arm she’d just noticed he was holding out to her, she began stomping her way through the sand.
“Millie . . . wait.”
For a second, she continued stomping, but then, hearing him running after her, she stopped and turned around. “Shall I assume we’re both back to addressing each other informally now, or do you still expect me to call you Mr. Mulberry?”
He regarded her for a long moment, the intensity of his gaze leaving her a little flustered. “I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I.”
Squaring her shoulders, she took a step back from him. “If you need reminding, Mr. Mulberry, I’m just the nanny. That means a gentleman in your lofty position doesn’t need to be concerned about my feelings, especially since you’re paying me so handsomely. I’ll thank you to remember that.”
Sending Everett the smallest curtsy she could manage, Millie marched her way to the cliff path, determined to put any lingering feelings she might have for the gentleman firmly aside.
12
Resting his hands on his knees, Everett watched Caroline, along with Gertrude and Nora—who’d moved back into Caroline’s cottage but was staunchly refusing to ever be Caroline’s companion again, paid or not—frolic in the sudsy foam of the ocean. They were laughing and splashing each other, all three ladies garbed in the latest sea attire, which consisted of a black smock that reached past the knees, pants that went all the way to the ankle, and black stockings that covered every single toe. On their heads were black hats with large brims, covered in bows and netting, and Everett couldn’t help wonder why ladies would even want to go to the beach, given that they had to feel a little . . . stifled.
“Care to join me in the water?” Dudley asked, pushing up from the blanket next to the one Everett was lounging on.
“I think I’ll just sit here.”
“Suit yourself,” Dudley said, looking completely delighted by Everett’s refusal to join him as he set off over the sand, his steps downright jaunty.
Feeling a small stab of annoyance when his friend immediately gravitated to Caroline, Everett pushed the annoyance away when the thought struck him that at least someone was making certain Caroline enjoyed the day. He was obviously not up for that particular task, especially since he was in a foul frame of mind.
Flopping back on the blanket, Everett threw an arm over his eyes as his thoughts began to wander and then turned rather disturbing.
For weeks he’d been thinking something was wrong, but now there was no sense denying it any longer—he knew something was dreadfully amiss.
Unfortunately, what was amiss had nothing to do with Caroline, their friends, the children, or even Millie. No, what was wrong had everything to do with him, but it was extremely uncomfortable coming to that troubling conclusion.
He was not, as he’d always convinced himself he was, a charming, debonair, and likeable sort. Instead, because he’d purposely distanced himself from Millie and hadn’t even bothered to offer her so much as an explanation as to why, he couldn’t claim to be charming in the least. He’d also taken to blaming Caroline and their friends for his ill-temper, which meant he certainly wasn’t debonair. And quite honestly, likeable wasn’t a word that described him either.
Better descriptions might be inconsiderate, boorish, and . . . selfish.
Coming to that conclusion was disconcert
ing, but there was no avoiding the hard truth any longer.
His certain belief in his superiority over everyone except those in his social set had finally succeeded in turning him into a gentleman he was not proud of in the least. He’d somehow been holding Millie responsible for his attraction to her, which was ludicrous. It wasn’t as if Millie had been practicing her feminine wiles on him, especially since he was fairly sure she didn’t even realize her appeal.
She was sweet, innocent, and had a most charming way about her. She’d been given little to no advantages in life, but instead of turning her bitter, that lack of advantages had given her a strength he envied.
He’d had every advantage in life—had gone to the best schools, visited foreign countries, could purchase anything he wanted on a whim—and yet, he’d taken to brooding quite often of late, unhappy with his lot in life, yet blaming everyone but himself for that unhappiness.
It was unacceptable, the brooding, and he realized he needed to change before he became one of those nasty old men who spent their time grumbling about everything and everyone, and one whom no one wanted to grow old with.
“Everett, be a dear and fetch me my parasol,” Caroline called.
Opening his eyes, Everett sat up, reached for Caroline’s parasol, and rose to his feet. Making his way across sand that had gotten remarkably hot, he waded into the surf and reached Caroline’s side a moment later, earning a frown from Dudley in the process. Handing Caroline the parasol, he smiled when she whipped it over the large hat that was already covering her head and smiled back at him.
“You should stay in the water with us,” she said as Gertrude and Nora, who were standing right beside her, nodded in agreement. “You’re looking somewhat flushed, and you really shouldn’t allow yourself to get too warm.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” he said before he drew in a breath and decided there was no time like the present to start making amends. “You look very lovely today, Caroline.”