Evergreen

by Marissa Doyle

  “I’m quite well,” she said as steadily as she could. All right, then—talking didn’t seem to be doing the trick. Much as she disliked the idea, she would have to commence plan B. If only she could see straight—

  “Please…let’s not argue.” She reached out and touched his sleeve, forcing herself not to clutch at it to stay upright. “We both care about Alice…don’t we?” She raised her eyes to his and let her hand linger on his arm.

  He stared back at her—at her, this time—for the space of three or four breaths. She moistened her lips and kept her eyes on his, remembering Alice’s instructions on the train but adding all the force of her dryad self behind it, willing him—

  “Kit,” she whispered. Was it working?

  He tore his gaze from her face. “Stop it,” he said savagely and yanked his arm away. The sudden motion made her even dizzier than before, and she leaned back against the railing for support…and then there were clouds and sky mixing with the sunshine. Kit said something to her but she couldn’t hear what it was, because she was falling…or was it the dizziness taking her again?

  She hit something hard. It knocked the wind from her for a moment so that she gasped, and then she felt nothing at all.

  * * *

  Something held her. She felt it, from her right shoulder down across her chest to the other side, holding her up out of the cold wet. Or was it trying to pull her down? She cried out and tried to struggle.

  “It’s all right,” someone said in her ear. “Don’t fight me. I’ve got you.”

  That voice—she knew it. “K—Kit!” she stammered. And then she realized that the thing encircling her was his arm, and the cold wet was water, which seemed to be trying to drag her down into its depths by her skirt. Sweet Yggdrasil, she’d fallen off the boat! But how? She’d been trying to Captivate him—she remembered his eyes, staring into hers—but then he’d pulled away, and the sun had been too bright, and—

  “Ssh.” The arm surrounding her tightened gently. “It’s all right—they’re sending the launch after us. You’re safe now.”

  He’d dived in to save her. Kit saved her. She closed her eyes; the salt water stung and made them well up with tears.

  Within a few minutes, the launch was there. The crewmen pulled her aboard like a sack of soggy potatoes. Someone led her to one of the benches and draped a blanket over her shoulders. She sat blindly down, shaking.

  The boat abruptly dipped sideways, and she looked up. Kit had pulled himself up over the gunwales of the launch and stood there, breathing hard. His white cotton shirt clung wetly to his chest and arms and his feet were bare, and she realized he must have taken off his jacket and shoes before diving after her. And then she noticed that he was returning her gaze.

  “Are you all right?” he said.

  She nodded.

  One of the crewmen handed him a blanket. He wiped the water from his face with it and rubbed it over his head to dry his hair, then stood there, still looking at her.

  “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

  As she looked at him, his face seemed to darken. “What the hell did you do that for?” he barked.

  It felt as though he’d slapped her. “What?”

  One of the crewmen standing nearby made a sound of protest. “Here, sir—I don’t think the young lady meant to fall in—”

  “She knew she wasn’t feeling well. But she had to drag me over to the rail to talk instead of waiting till she wasn’t about to collapse… Christ, we could have sat down in chairs like civilized people.” Kit threw the blanket down and loomed over her, fists clenched like he wanted to hit her.

  She stared up at him. His blue eyes were ablaze, and she felt her own begin to kindle under his furious gaze. “I’m sorry you had to jump in to save me,” she snapped. “I’m sure you would have been just as happy to leave me in the ocean—or see me at the bottom of it.”

  He looked down at his feet and shifted as if the deck boards burned them. “I didn’t say that—”

  “You didn’t have to.” She turned her head and deliberately shifted on the bench so that her shoulder was to him, and found herself blinking hard. Curse the horrid salty ocean water that made her eyes sting so!

  She felt him continue to stand there but refused to turn her head. After a minute, he moved away.

  A nervously cleared throat a minute later finally made her look up. One of the crewmen—the one who’d remonstrated with Kit—stood there. “We’ll be back at the boat in a trice, but is there anything I can do for you, miss?” he asked shyly.

  Grace tried to bring his face into focus and couldn’t, and realized that tears were still streaming from her eyes. No wonder he looked so apprehensive. “No, thank you…it’s that I…I…” She rubbed her wet sleeve across her face, and inspiration struck. “I lost my hat.”

  He looked relieved; that was evidently an acceptable reason for a young lady to be sobbing her eyes out. “I’m sorry, miss. Once we’ve got you back, maybe the skipper will let us go look for it.”

  To Grace’s dismay, the entire yachting party seemed to have gathered along the side of the boat to watch her being handed back up from the launch. Alice and Mrs. Rennell were there to greet her first, followed by Tom and his father.

  Alice was grinning. “How’s the water?”

  Mrs. Rennell was still pasty-pale but determined to do her duty. “Poor child—were you overcome? I am sure that boats are no place for ladies of tender sensibilities.”

  Alice snorted. “Grace never gets the vapors.”

  “I am sure that poor dear Grace is unwell,” Mrs. Rennell replied stiffly. It was probably the closest she’d ever come to disagreeing with Alice.

  “Excuse me.” Tom actually nudged Alice aside, giving her a cold look as he did, and tenderly draped another blanket around Grace. “I’m so sorry—I should have been there to take care of you. You weren’t feeling quite the thing, Mrs. Fish says. I blame myself.” He looked unhappy.

  “It’s all right. Kit took care of her.” Alice’s grin faded into a fond smile. “He’s a hero, isn’t he, saving you like that!” She turned away from Grace, no doubt to look for Kit.

  Mr. Livingston cleared his throat. “I am sure Miss Boisvert would like to go down to the cabin to dry off and rest. The stewardess will be happy to help you, my dear. She’s my captain’s wife.” He looked down at her kindly. “We’ll steam back to Newport immediately.”

  “Oh, no!” Grace protested. “I don’t want to ruin your party. There’s no reason to go back.”

  Tom put an arm around her and began to guide her through the crowd toward the companionway leading below. “We’ll do whatever you want,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

  It was sweet of him, but the last thing she wanted now was Tom gazing at her soulfully for the rest of the afternoon. “I should like a rest—or maybe a nap. My head—”

  He looked disappointed but helped her down the companionway stairs into the saloon, where the large, capable Mrs. Joseph came hurrying forward to take charge of her. She took Grace to one of the guest cabins, made her take off her wet skirt and petticoats and shirtwaist, wrapped her in dry blankets, settled her into the berth, and made her drink a cup of hot, sweet tea.

  “Coming down with the grippe, I’ll warrant,” she said comfortably as Grace sipped her tea. “Getting faint like that is always the first sign. You spend the next few days in bed, miss, and you’ll be right as rain in no time. A bit of a dunk never hurt anyone, but you don’t want to be playing games with the grippe. Now, drink that up and have a bit of a nap, and I’ll see what I can do about making your clothes presentable by the time we get back to harbor.”

  Grace sank gratefully into the pillow as the woman tucked another blanket over her and drew the curtains over the cabin’s porthole. But as much as she would have liked to sleep, the pain in her head would only let her clutch her blankets and stare into the dim cabin while tears she could no longer blame on seawater slipp
ed down her cheeks.

  Chapter Seven

  Oddly, within a few minutes of returning to Mrs. Rennell’s house, Grace’s pounding head and dizziness had abated greatly. But she let the housekeeper and the maid fuss over her and order her into a hot bath with rosemary and chamomile in it, to keep her from catching cold after her unexpected swim. She stayed in it for a long time, hoping to soak out her chagrin and mortification in the fragrant water.

  Her talk with Kit had accomplished nothing…and her attempt to Captivate him had ended in disaster. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d known what she was trying to do, considering the way he’d pulled away from her so angrily. Humiliating was the only word for it. How could she ever face him again? Now she was back where she’d started, which meant that the only thing to do was to say something directly to Alice.

  Why did Kit hate her so? What had she done to him, apart from beat him fair and square in a tennis match? He’d been so angry after he’d rescued her today; no one had ever behaved that way to her, even Grand-mère at her crossest. And yet the memory of their meeting still tugged at her—that click! of something between them, like the tumblers of a lock falling into place when the right key was inserted. He’d felt it too: she knew it. So what had happened?

  Alice came into her room while she was combing out her hair and thinking about Kit. “I’m under strict orders to make sure you’re in your bed,” she announced and promptly made it impossible for Grace to be so by draping herself across it. “The fat lady on the boat told Mrs. Rennell you were dying of consumption or something.”

  “She thinks I’m getting the grippe, but I feel better now.”

  “That’s what I said—you never get the vapors. Now will you admit that Kit is a paragon? The way he dove in to save you!”

  Grace looked away; Alice was positively starry-eyed. “Did you see him?”

  “No, but Mrs. Fish said she saw the whole thing. She said that you fainted and Kit tried to grab you but missed. Within a second he was ripping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes and diving after you.” She frowned. “What were you doing with him, anyway? I thought you hated the poor boy.”

  “I don’t. He hates me,” Grace protested. “He practically said as much, once they’d pulled me out of the water. And anyway…” If she was going to warn Alice, it might as well be now. “The reason I was with him was because I wanted to talk to him about you.”

  Alice raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

  Grace straightened her comb and brush on the vanity table, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase it, then gave up. “People are talking about you two. You were seen at the Casino that night up on the roof—”

  “Yes, I know. Lots of people saw us. They didn’t seem to mind. I even told you about it.”

  “Yes. But you didn’t tell me about the rowboat race at the Harbor Fête—”

  “Oh, that.” Alice laughed. “It was just a lark. I would have told you except Mrs. Rennell was so busy fussing at Miss Hamm that I didn’t have the chance.”

  “She wouldn’t have been fussing at Miss Hamm if you hadn’t run off. Nor did you tell me where you and he went the other night at Mrs. Wilson’s house, during the concert.”

  This time Alice remained silent, but a rosy blush crept up her face. “We were seen?”

  “You were seen leaving together and returning together, looking…um, disheveled.”

  The blush deepened. “Who said that?”

  Grace hesitated. “I can’t tell you. But it was remarked upon by several people, from what I was told. Alice, you know how stories spread. If it gets back to your family that you’ve been carrying on with a young man—”

  Alice sat up and thumped her fist on the bed. “Oh, damnation! Why does the world have to blather about what I do—or what anyone does?”

  “You don’t seem to mind indulging in a bit of gossip yourself, at times,” Grace reminded her.

  “That’s different. I like gossiping about other people, but I don’t want them gossiping about me.” At least she had the honesty to laugh a little shamefacedly. Grace rose and went to sit next to her.

  “Then you’ve got to stop giving people reasons to gossip about you,” she said earnestly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to him about—to appeal to his better nature about you.” No need to tell her what else she’d tried to do. “If he really cared about you—”

  Alice stiffened. “You said that to him?”

  “What?”

  “That bit about if he really cared about me.” She leaned forward eagerly. “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t. That’s when I fainted, or whatever I did.”

  Alice groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. “Couldn’t you have chosen a better time to faint, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it, and you know it.” Alice sat up. “Kit is…that is, I…I think I love him.” She looked down at her lap, blushing again.

  Grace swallowed hard. This was worse than she’d expected. “But…really, Alice, you’ve only known him for two weeks.”

  She looked up, eyes narrowing. “It’s not two weeks, it’s sixteen days. You don’t think that’s time enough for me to know my mind? He’s handsome and smart and much more interesting than any of the other boys I’ve met here. Certainly more so than Tom Livingston,” she added.

  Her barb missed its mark. “There’s no need to pick on Tom Livingston,” Grace said, a little sadly. “Kit Rookwood is handsomer and cleverer than most of the boys here. Perhaps a little too much so. I’ve been watching him. He’s using all of your Captivation techniques…on you. The admiration, the reflecting back how you want to see yourself—don’t you see? He’s figured out exactly how to make you—”

  “What makes you think he doesn’t love me?” she snapped.

  Grace hesitated. Alice’s vehemence seemed all out of proportion…or maybe it wasn’t. “I don’t think anything. But I’m worried. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

  “Then you can damned well keep out of my business!”

  “Alice!” Mrs. Rennell had opened the door and put her head in, presumably to check on Grace. Her Pekinese face was tight with shocked disapproval. “Such language! Are you girls quarreling?”

  Alice turned to her. Grace was sure she’d say something impatient and cutting, but she managed to hold her tongue. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t intend to let that slip out.”

  “I should think not!” Mrs. Rennell came in. She still looked pale and worn from her bout of mal de mer. “Grace, you should be in bed. Alice dear, I asked you to make sure Grace—”

  “She’s getting there,” Alice said shortly and climbed off the bed. Grace got into it; it was easier than protesting that, really, she was much better.

  “That’s better.” Mrs. Rennell sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve cancelled our going to the Dyers’ dinner tonight.” She sighed. “I hated to do it—it’s the Dyers, after all—but I don’t think any of us are up for it.”

  “I am,” Alice muttered from the window where she’d taken refuge.

  Fortunately Mrs. Rennell hadn’t heard her. “And I think you ought to stay in bed tomorrow, Grace, in case you are coming down with the grippe.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grace agreed meekly. She was certain she wasn’t, but it would be good to avoid society for a day or two. Was it all over Newport yet, how she’d ignominiously fallen off the Livingstons’ yacht?

  Mrs. Rennell patted her hand. “Poor child. Can I do anything for you?”

  “You can tell her the news,” Alice said, a little less grumpily.

  “What news?”

  Mrs. Rennell’s hands fluttered, as they often did when she was nervous. “Oh, nothing, really. Dear Alice and I were talking, and I’ve agreed that it would be wrong for me not to do something to return all the hospitality we’ve received during your visit.”

  “The Livingstons were so kind to you today, Grace,” Alice put in. “It
would be positively churlish not to do something. And really, an evening event is the only possible answer. It doesn’t have to be a ball. Just a lovely reception with music and dancing and a nice supper partway through the evening.”

  In other words, a ball. Grace shot Alice a suspicious look. “That sounds…very nice.”

  “Exactly.” Mrs. Rennell’s nods were almost frantic. “Just a pleasant time among friends. Nothing your mothers could possibly take exception to.”

  Alice came to stand at Mrs. Rennell’s shoulder, looking quite saintly. “I told Mrs. Rennell that we’d help her plan it, of course,” she said. “We can’t let her tire herself!”

  Mrs. Rennell looked gratified. “You’re a dear girl. But right now we should let Grace rest. Coming?”

  “In a moment.” Alice waited till Mrs. Rennell had left, then grinned at Grace from the doorway. “So what do you think? Am I brilliant, or what?”

  “You’re positively ruthless.”

  “Well, that too.” Alice admitted. “We’re getting our ball!” She pirouetted out the door.

  Grace sighed and stared up at the ceiling. At least talk of the ball had distracted Alice from their conversation about Kit. She was so hopelessly infatuated that she couldn’t even entertain the idea that he might be using her Captivation techniques on her. And who knew? Maybe he really was as nutty on her as she was on him.

  But it seemed doubtful. Not once in their conversation on the boat had she discerned the least tenderness for Alice in his words or manner, which surely there would have been some sign of…wouldn’t there? Drat the boy! Alice was…no, fragile wasn’t the right word. Vulnerable—yes. As much as her Aunt Bye and her Lee grandparents had loved her, there was still a hole in her heart that they hadn’t been able to fill. Grace was sure Alice was trying to fill it herself—with Kit. But it was hard to believe that Kit was up to the task—or even interested in trying.