by Dina Sleiman
“Martha, have you ever been in love?”
Martha chuckled. “Hmm, I don’t think you earned that big a secret.”
Constance pouted in the mirror.
Martha swatted her shoulder. “I’m just jokin’ with you. I think I might be in love with Josiah, a field hand over at the Sugarbaker plantation.” Her smile implied serenity. Something in the way she crooned his name told Constance the woman was indeed in love.
“So what happens now? Can you be together?”
“Well, first we want to make sure we’re certain. Don’t want to cause a ruckus over nothin’. But once we’re decided, I’m sure Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Sugarbaker will work out some agreement. We’ve always been allowed friendships with the Sugarbaker servants, we bein’ next door neighbors and all.”
“I see. I hope you meet with success.”
“Me too. He’s one handsome buck.” Martha moved to another curl. “Skin like molasses, muscles ’til tomorrow. White teeth like a flock of sheep. Tall as a tree, that one is. And smart too. I’ve been learnin’ him how to read, and he picks it up right quick.”
“He sounds like a dream.”
“That he is, Miss Constance. That he is.” Martha mused for a while in silence as she continued to work the curling tongs through Constance’s hair.
After a few moments she spoke again. “Too bad you and Mr. Robbie can’t get along. He’s about given up on a family, I hear. None of those society girls want him now that he’s let his slaves go free. You’re just the kind of woman he needs.”
“And so we’ve come back to Robert Montgomery. Isn’t it bad enough that I have to dance with him tonight?”
“You can do this, Miss Constance. You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.”
She hoped so. Still, she couldn’t bear to tell Martha the worst of it, of the waltz in Robbie’s arms on that fateful night. “Would you pray with me, Martha?”
Martha set down the tongs and wiped her hands on her apron. “Sure enough, I will.” She sat next to Constance again and took pale hands in her dark ones. They bowed red and brown heads together as one and prayed for strength and mercy, but most of all for God’s will to be done in their lives.
* * *
Patience and Mr. Franklin lingered over their tea after dinner. Mother had fairly dragged the reluctant Felicity from the room to allow them a few moments to chat. Patience glanced at him over her cup. Although he’d come by on several occasions since her disastrous attempt at flirtation, tonight he looked directly at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“You have lovely eyes, Miss Cavendish. I don’t think I’ve ever taken note of the color before. A sort of amber brown, would you say?”
“Yes. Thank you for noticing.”
“That dimple on your right cheek is quite fetching. And I’ve been admiring your hair as well this evening. It is indeed an appealing shade of ginger, as you claimed.”
“Well, as Constance mentioned, she held the nickname long before I had the hair.”
“I apologize, Miss Cavendish…May I call you Patience? Miss Cavendish seems so formal under the circumstances.”
“Of course. If I may call you Thaddeus.”
“I would like that very much. As I was saying, Patience, I apologize for the awkwardness between us. It’s come to my attention that perhaps the other evening you were…that is, might have been…I mean to say…” Those adorable spots of pink filled his cheeks.
“Yes, Thaddeus, I was trying to flirt with you. Although, it is evident I failed miserably at the task.”
“Never say so! It is I who failed. Who failed to notice that Constance was not the only Cavendish woman of significant charm. We have so much in common. I’ve always spoken to you like I would a college chum. As I considered the matter, I realized what a strong basis this might make for a relationship.”
Patience took another sip of tea to brace herself.
“And as I’ve watched you this evening, I realized for the first time—dunderhead that I am—how incredibly beautiful you are.” He gazed into her eyes, causing her to shiver.
Now Patience felt a flush rising toward her cheeks. “Thaddeus, I don’t know what to say.” Her lashes fluttered of their own accord. She sat down her cup to give him her full attention.
“Nor do I, Miss Cavendish. This is new to me and quite an adjustment to my thinking.”
Patience brushed her fingers across her collarbone without understanding why.
Thaddeus took her hand in his. “I still have strong affections for your sister. I must be honest about that.”
Her heart clutched, and she turned down her gaze. He tipped her chin up with his fingers. “But wait. I do still have feelings for her, but I find I have much affection for you as well. A different sort of affection, but one based on fact and reason rather than fancy. This is even better, don’t you think? And possibly the basis for something quite substantial?”
She nodded, losing herself in the depths of his earnest brown eyes. “Exactly. Can you imagine? We could discuss science every evening for the rest of our lives.”
“Theories of energy.”
“The stars.”
“Not to mention…deist philosophy.” His voice lowered as he said it, turning the words into an unexpected endearment.
“Yes, don’t you see how well we suit?”
“In truth, Patience, I don’t know how I ever missed it.” He drew her hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon the back of it.
Patience’s first real kiss. Warm and soft. If Patience were a kitten, she would purr right now. But instead, she held her hand to her heart. She would not wash it for days.
“I will strive to overcome these feelings for your sister and focus only upon you. I can make no promises, for that mythical heart is a fickle organ, but I believe my higher resolve will prevail.”
Patience almost shrieked in protest.
He brushed a finger down the side of her cheek. “And your magnificent eyes shall no doubt speed the process.”
At that she smiled. She could not expect miracles, but tonight she had taken significant strides toward achieving her goal.
CHAPTER 17
Robbie looked into the mirror one more time, adjusting his cuffs and smoothing the waves of his dark hair just so to offset the bright blue of his eyes. Constance had played this game for years. Had played it at the country dance with both him and Lorimer not long ago. Why shouldn’t Robbie?
He splashed on an extra dose of his spicy cologne, although he’d worn it to dinner as well. And he’d chosen not to shave his evening shadow, recalling Gingersnap had enjoyed the rough scruff against her smooth cheek. Perhaps it would evoke memories of that night so long ago. He chuckled. As if the waltz would not serve that purpose of its own accord. Had he schemed for weeks, he could not have contrived a better plan to suit his course of action. All he must do was show up and follow his mother’s bidding. The dance would work its magic, and Constance would be back under his spell.
Only long enough to remove Lorimer from the equation, he reminded himself. He would do this for Constance’s own good. The girl did not know how to look out for her best interests. And yes, he would hate to disappoint her in the end, but better that than a lifetime tied to a penniless, reckless, itinerant preacher. Mrs. Cavendish would certainly thank Robbie, even if Constance herself would not.
“Robbie! Robbie! We’re waiting for you.” Speaking of mothers, his beckoned from below.
He rushed along the curving stairway, tempted to take the short cut down the banister just as he had as a child. Robbie smiled. Plotting against the enticing Miss Cavendish had done wonders for his mood.
The family awaited him in the ballroom. Miss Cavendish stood looking out the arched window, fiddling with her curls in a manner that indicated nervousness rather than flirtation.
“There he is. Being as you were on time for dinner, I suppose we should have expected you would find a different occasion to be tardy.” The glim
mer in Mother’s eye belied her harsh tone.
Robbie kissed her soft, plump cheek. Turning to glance at Constance, he wondered if she recalled the feel of his kiss. He had never forgotten the wonder of hers.
The pink blush rising from the low collar of her muslin dress suggested she did remember the brush of his lips as well. Robbie flashed Constance his most charming grin.
She picked at the ribbons along her neckline. “No rush. Perhaps we should retire to the parlor and chat for a while. I fear my dinner has not yet settled.”
Nor would it ever if she kept fidgeting so. Robbie crossed to her and took her hand in his. He gallantly swooped to a bow before her and pressed his mouth against the delectable skin of her hand, being sure to nuzzle her with the scruff of his upper lip.
Constance jerked—or might one call it a tremor? But Robbie maintained his hold. He rose to his full height and gazed down at her. “Ah, but my dear, I fear I can wait no longer to hold you in my arms.”
Confusion swirled in her smoldering brown eyes. Robbie couldn’t help enjoying this charade. Perhaps he enjoyed it too much.
“Robert Montgomery!” Mother scolded. “I should like for us to prove the waltz a respectable dance, and here you go making it scandalous already.”
“I apologize, Mother.” He turned and bowed to the woman as well, all the while maintaining his grip on Constance’s hand.
“Oh Mother.” Molly crossed to the fortepiano. “He’s not being scandalous. He’s being chivalrous. I, for one, hope some handsome young man treats me so at my first ball.”
Mother glared at him. “I suppose he must be chivalrous.”
His mother still thought him the finest catch society had to offer and would not approve of an alliance with Constance. Although, considering the current disarray of his affairs, she had little reason to protest.
“Shall we?” He switched Constance’s right hand to his own and stroked his left across the small of her back, watching for her reaction as he led her to the center of the floor.
Constance did not disappoint. A dreamy sort of haze crossed over her eyes before she caught herself and blinked it away.
“Whenever you’re ready, Molly,” he said.
After their brief promenade, he turned toward Constance. He winked. She jolted and her eyes popped open wide. Definitely a shiver this time.
* * *
Constance could not fathom Robbie’s behavior. For weeks he’d been rude and cold. Then friendly and curious after her apology. Only to turn seething and jealous later that evening.
Now this? The perfect courtier. A charmer extraordinaire. Even when he’d been her beau, she did not recall Robbie executing the role of gallant gentleman with such perfection, with such staggering allure.
Thank goodness her body’s memory took over, yielding to his expert lead, for her brain seemed not to function in the least. As they wove their way in and out, and he threaded her under his arm, his gaze never left hers. A gaze lit with a fire she hadn’t seen in five years.
At the point when they should switch partners within a foursome, Constance found herself still held tight in his grasp. She should have worn her gloves. Would she never learn? But her old ones needed to be laundered from her last trip to town, and she’d had to place the long silk opera version on special order.
Yes, perhaps she could distract herself with thoughts of fashion. Or jam. She did so adore jam, particularly peach. Or with her mantra—family, reputation, employment. Robbie Montgomery mattered little in the greater scheme of things.
And she might have convinced herself of that fact had he not swept her into his arms at that very moment for the pirouettes. He maintained the respectful twelve-inch distance, yet the kneading caress of his thumb against her arm caused her to both warm and tremble once again.
Lorimer. Yes, she would think of Lorimer. That wonderful, godly man full of life and a pure sort of passion—with Holy Spirit fire, not the heat of Robbie’s touch. She turned her stare downward upon his cravat.
Unfortunately, Robbie would have none of it. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for my wretched behavior last week.”
Though she felt his stare boring into her, she held her focus. “Apology accepted.” There. That should suffice. Perhaps he would drop his conciliatory conversation.
“I fear you were correct.”
“About what? That you’re a spoiled, heartless, arrogant fop?”
“Not so spoiled these days. But no. I fear I am jealous of Mr. Lorimer. I told myself there was no use going back to all that. I’m in no position to court anyone, leastwise reopen the old wounds between us. But you’re right, Constance. You’ve changed.”
He swept her under his arm again and pulled her into the intimate hip-to-hip hold of the sauteuse, perhaps the most shocking segment of the dance.
She turned her glance up to the side, as mandated by the choreography. He caught it with his own gaze and held it as though within an embrace. “Now that we’ve cleared the air between us, now that we’ve forgiven one another, I thought we might start fresh.”
“I c-can’t.” The words caught on their way out.
“Of course you can. It’s simple. Watch.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, allow me to introduce myself. I am Robert James Montgomery of Albemarle County.”
“Constance…Cavendish,” she whispered.
“You see. Not so difficult.”
She shook her head and curls bounced in her eyes. Blowing them away with a puff, she gathered her thoughts. “No, please.”
“Why ever not?”
She could not risk her heart in his possession again, although she feared it was too late. She must speak the truth. “I’m afraid.”
He had swiveled her into a face-to-face embrace, gripping one another’s arms again. But he let go with one hand for a brief moment to run his finger along her cheek. “Me too.” He took a deep breath. “But the good news is, neither of us is in any position to court. We shall be friends. Really and truly this time. And get to know one another all over again. Five years have passed. We’re not the same people.”
She lifted a timid glance to him this time. Friends. Really and truly. Perhaps she could handle that. The music ended, but only for Dolly to replace Molly at the fortepiano. Constance stepped back for a moment, hoping the cool air between them might clear her thinking.
They started up again. “Friends. Of course.” Of course, she could never tell him no and mean it. To anything. Whom did she intend to fool? “That’s all, Robbie. Agreed?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Robbie, tell me true. Had you ever danced the waltz before that night at my plantation?” He must have, for he led her with such expertise, almost as perfectly as he did tonight.
“Yes, in France.” His lopsided grin reached out to stroke her to even more devastating effect than his fingers moments earlier. Thank goodness they were not alone in a dim library this time.
Already, this “friendship” did not proceed well. She scanned her mind for any sort of emotional cold water with which to douse the combustible situation. Of course! “I do hope you won’t try to interfere in my relationship with Lorimer any longer. I’m sure we can all manage to be friends.”
The expression that flashed over his face told her she had hit her mark.
* * *
Drat! Robbie hadn’t anticipated that blow. Just when he thought he had reeled in the girl, she brings up Lorimer. He pressed his fingers deeper into her yielding back as he struggled to recoup.
He had no choice but to verbally concede, although he had every intention to dissuade her with his actions. Looking up to the ceiling, he said. “Of course, friends. All of us. The more the merrier on that count.”
She didn’t answer, only danced in silence for a moment. When he dared to glance back down at her, he found neither the haunted expression nor the dreamy haze he had witnessed earlier. No, rather mischief glimmered in her eyes.
Constance grinned. “I’m so glad. I wou
ld hate to renew friction between us when we’ve so recently made amends. But I have every intention of spending time with the man. I’m learning so much from him. His life of faith fascinates me. Don’t you find it fascinating, Robbie?”
“Ah, fascinating. Yes, of course.” Blast it all.
“Good. I would hate to think you might try to keep me from growing in my relationship with the Lord.” She batted her eyelashes—intentionally, if he guessed right.
“Ah, but don’t discount my ability to distract you from him. I can be quite charismatic myself, you know.” Robbie threw an extra bit of force into his spin, pulling her toward him with the flow of rotation, and with any luck, inflicting an intoxicating dizziness.
She giggled and wrinkled her upturned nose. “Distract me? From the Lord or from Mr. Lorimer?”
He frowned. Somewhere along the way, he had lost the upper hand in this conversation. He tried the trick of rubbing her arm with the pad of his thumb again, which had worked so magically moments before.
“I await your answer with bated breath, good sir.” But the breathiness had abandoned her voice of a sudden.
“Far be it from me to stand between a young lady and her Savior. I speak only of Lorimer, of course. And only with your best interests and those of your dear mother at heart.”
“Of course. And as I’ve assured you, I have no plan of marrying, now or ever. To anyone.”
That statement should comfort him on many levels, yet it left him empty inside. He turned to watch his sister at the fortepiano in hopes that Constance would not catch the bereft expression on his face.
Would this wretched dance never end?
CHAPTER 18
He managed to catch Dolly’s eye, and she seemed to decipher the faint finish up swirl of his head. Skipping the final refrain and much of the jetté portion of the dance, the girl mercifully moved into the concluding strains of the song.
Robbie swept low into a bow once again. This time avoiding eye contact and watching the checkered marble floor beneath him, which could use a polish, he noted.