The Husband List Page 3

  “Good morning, Mama,” Caroline said after her mother’s maid had finally ushered her inside.

  Caroline kept her gaze trained on her mother. Mama’s quarters tended to distract her, and she needed to be focused.

  “Good morning,” her mother replied from her perch at her ornate little Louis XV writing desk. Pomeroy, who looked quite imperial this morning, sat on a gold-embroidered pillow at her feet. “We need to consult about your schedule for the week.”

  “Yes, of course,” Caroline said. Then, because she preferred to take consequences head on, she added, “But don’t you want to address last night’s dinner with me?”

  “We’re going to pretend it didn’t happen,” Mama replied as she paged though a sheaf of papers.

  Caroline knew her mother was constitutionally incapable of holding back a lecture. And Caroline didn’t want to pretend. After nearly a year of keeping her emotions bottled up, she felt ready to explode. It was wrong, though, to vent on Mama. She was only doing what she thought was right. Jack, though, had made an intriguing target. And she’d already forgiven him for thinking like a man. He could hardly help it.

  “Are you smiling?” her mother asked.

  Caroline started a bit. “I might have been.”

  She’d been thinking of Jack, after all.

  “You were, and I can’t see why, after last night.”

  “You were right to say we should let it go, Mama.”

  Her mother nodded firmly. “And so we shall. We’re all under some pressure with the summer season about to start, and I can appreciate that your nerves might have gotten the better of you. But today is a new day, and we must begin to plan for Lord Bremerton’s arrival.”

  And that was about the best one could hope for Mama letting something go.

  “I will be occupied with the improvements to Rosemeade,” her mother said. “I plan to leave for Newport this afternoon. If Mrs. Longhorne cannot accommodate me at Villa Blanca. I might have to stay at Rosemeade during the work,” she said with a delicate shudder at the thought of such inconvenience.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Longhorne will help out,” Caroline said. Villa Blanca, which had been built six years prior for Esmé Longhorne’s debut, had more than a dozen guest rooms.

  “We shall see,” Mama said. “I will expect you and the twins to follow your weekly schedules in my absence. No making a worry of yourself for your papa, and no extra eating.”

  “Of course, Mama,” Caroline said. Her toes were twitching within her ankle boots at the very thought of getting out of the house and breathing free air.

  Her mother held a piece of paper a distance from her eyes. “It says here…” She squinted, and Caroline bit down on the impulse to hand Mama her spectacles. “Ah, yes. It says that you have a luncheon with Harriet Vandermeulen, and later in the afternoon a group of you are scheduled for a bicycle ride in Central Park. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  That was the official activity, though Caroline had long had another destination planned. Because, of course, the best way of working with Mama was to work around her.

  Her mother set the paper down. “Harriet wears knickerbockers when she cycles, does she not?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “No matter what they say, knickerbocker outfits are unseemly,” Mama said with a rueful shake of her head. “You must pedal away from Harriet.”

  That, Caroline was guaranteed to do.

  THREE

  Bicycling with a pack of giggling debutantes wasn’t something Jack relished. Or even generally subjected himself to. But tomorrow he was heading to Newport to see the new cottage, and later in the week he planned to meet with the owner of the Providence brewery to negotiate a sale. That left him today to pretend to be wife-seeking. If he didn’t go through the motions, Da would never let the idea rest.

  This morning Jack had accepted a cycling invitation that Charles Vandermeulen had sent over a week ago. Whether it was a case of better late than never remained to be seen. The Vandermeulen family was anxious to see Charles’s sister, Harriet, married off. And Charles seemed to have decided that he’d like Jack as a brother-in-law. Jack, however, found Harriet disinteresting, though well-mannered. In short, she was the total opposite of Caroline.

  Jack approached the group gathered on the edge of Central Park where it met Fifth Avenue. A dozen future rulers of New York society stood by their bicycles under two broad and leafy sycamore trees, avoiding the bright afternoon sun. He wondered how the wool-clad group would avoid dropping of exhaustion on this unseasonably warm day. He worried about the women, especially, in their jackets with both blouses and vests beneath, not to mention their long skirts. Even those who wore shorter skirts with voluminous knickerbockers peeking from beneath would feel the heat. Because Jack chose not to roast, he’d grabbed a yachting blazer made of cotton. Functionality interested him, not fashion.

  “There you are, old man,” Charles cried as Jack coasted to a stop and dismounted.

  Jack did feel old compared to this crew. Under one tree he’d already spotted the Maxwell twins, along with a handful of their little friends. They were all barely out of the nursery. Slightly older cyclists had gathered beneath the second tree. And he did mean slightly. At age twenty-three, Charles’s sister appeared to be the eldest.

  Charles approached and shook Jack’s hand. Round of build, with wavy brownish hair and a usually serious demeanor, Charles looked as trustworthy as the heir to a banking fortune should. He’d entered Princeton the same year as Jack. Charles, along with classmate Eddie Maxwell, had made sure Jack received invitations into the best dining clubs, though he wasn’t from a top-drawer family. Jack had appreciated the gesture, even if he hadn’t cared one hell of a lot about making inroads with the worst of the snobs.

  “So glad you could make it,” Charles said to Jack.

  “Happy to be here,” Jack replied automatically.

  Then he realized that might actually be true. He’d just spotted Caroline in the deep shade of the first tree. If her dark hair hadn’t given her away, the seductive curve of her waist to her hips would have.

  This outing might be tolerable, after all. Jack began to head in Caroline’s direction, but Charles held him back.

  “My sister Harriet is here,” he said in a cheerful tone. “Have I ever introduced you to her?”

  “Yes, you have,” Jack said. When Charles’s brown spaniel eyes drooped, he added, “But it’s been some time.”

  “Then let’s go over and renew the acquaintance,” Charles said. “Bring your bicycle. We’ll be heading off soon.”

  It was clear to Jack that he was expected to be Harriet’s partner.

  “Harriet,” Charles called. “Look who’s joining us at the last minute!”

  Instead of just Harriet, the entire group looked their way. Jack lifted a hand in a casual wave and shot a smile specifically at Caroline. She smiled back. Maybe last night’s storm had blown over.

  Harriet hurried over to greet him. As she talked, Jack could see why any number of men might be pleased to have someone like her as a wife. Her blond hair was thick and beautiful, her teeth were straight, and her nose pert. She didn’t require much participation in a conversation, either. Jack nodded and made polite responses as she chattered in her high-pitched tones.

  All the while, Caroline kept looking over, aggravation growing more obvious on her face. Harriet and her brother were talking about Harriet’s skill at archery when Caroline stalked over.

  “Excuse me for interrupting, Charles, but do you think we could be on our way?”

  Charles looked at her blankly.

  She gave him a stunning smile.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” he stammered.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Charles trotted off to do Caroline’s bidding.

  “Good job,” Jack said to her.

  “I try to do my best,” she replied.

  “Caroline, Jack and I were just talking about arche
ry,” Harriet announced, moving a step closer to him.

  Caroline must have noted the proprietary move because amusement began to sparkle in her eyes. “Were you?”

  “Yes.” Harriet tilted her head and assessed Caroline. “You know, I’ve never seen you engage in archery while at Newport. Why is that?”

  Jack supposed Harriet was trying to showcase her superior assets.

  Caroline grinned. “I guess I’ve never found the right target. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to ride.”

  Bull’s-eye, Jack thought.

  He glanced at Harriet. Even her little rosebud mouth had wilted. Because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and because she deserved some consolation after venturing so far out of her league, Jack held out his elbow to her. “Shall we go?”

  With Charles and Caroline at the front, the group pedaled the park’s trails for more than an hour, finally ending up by the Lake, where a picnic site, complete with canvas spread on the ground to protect the ladies’ skirts, awaited.

  Jack managed to slip away from Harriet while she was being served lemonade. He took advantage of the time by catching up with various acquaintances. All the while, though, he kept an eye on Caroline. Before the food had even been set out, she’d moved on to linger on the path next to her bicycle. She kept glancing around as though looking for something … or someone.

  Harriet caught up with him. Jack listened with half an ear to her description of the pearls her older sister had received when she’d married a French count. He didn’t think Harriet would take well to the news that he had no pearls and didn’t plan to offer marriage.

  Caroline had beckoned her sisters over. Jack tried to catch what she was saying to them, but Harriet was coming through too clearly.

  Caroline mounted her bike and took off.

  Curiosity got the better of Jack.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said to Harriet.

  Jack joined Amelia and Helen, who stood at the path’s edge, watching Caroline pedal away.

  “Where’s your sister off to?” he asked the girls.

  “She’s not feeling well and is going home,” Helen—or was it Amelia?—said.

  “It is a little warm today,” the other twin chimed in.

  “You might consider removing your jackets,” he suggested since their faces had reached a crimson hue.

  “We couldn’t!” said one girl. The other piped in with, “Mama would be appalled.”

  But Mama was home, where Caroline soon would be. Except, Jack suddenly realized, she’d headed off in the wrong direction.

  “Pardon me,” he said to the girls before turning heel and heading to his bicycle.

  It didn’t take long to find Caroline. She had exited the park at West 77th Street. He watched as she walked her bicycle across Central Park West and started toward the Natural History Museum.

  Was she having an assignation there with a secret beau? The idea left a bad taste in Jack’s mouth. Caroline was sheltered and sweet … mostly. Who knew what sort of opportunist might be taking advantage of her?

  Telling himself he was doing this for all the right reasons, Jack crossed the road, dodging carriages, wagons, and a few curses thrown his way. If any man was going to spend the afternoon with Caroline Maxwell, Jack was damned determined it would be he.

  * * *

  ANOTHER RIVULET of perspiration worked its way between Caroline’s breasts. As soon as she returned home, she would have money sent to the leaders of the rational dress movement to aid them in their cause. Why should a woman have to perish of heat or tangle in a bicycle chain when engaging in what was supposed to be healthful exercise?

  The museum’s meager bicycle rack was full. Caroline walked her bike to a cluster of shrubbery to the left of the front entrance and leaned it against a fat and tall yew. She still had to deal with the leather straps that were supposed to keep the skirts of her murderous bicycling costume closer to her ankles. She stepped between the bush and the building and bent down to free herself.

  “The picnic is back in the park,” announced a male voice right beside her.

  Caroline yelped and worked hard not to tip over. She’d never give Jack the satisfaction.

  “Yes, but there’s a free lecture in the library right now,” she said as she got the last of her straps undone.

  She stood and smoothed her skirt.

  He eyed her suspiciously. “A lecture?”

  “Yes, on last year’s Columbian Exposition. What did you think I was here for?”

  He began to reply, but Caroline knew she’d find his explanation less compelling than the lecture.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I’m already late.”

  She was almost up the museum steps before she noticed that Jack was behind her.

  “You’d better hurry back to the picnic. Harriet will be waiting,” she half teased as he pulled even.

  “She can keep,” Jack replied. “I want to hear this lecture you find so important.”

  She smiled. “You don’t think there’s really a lecture, do you?”

  His skeptical expression remained firmly in place. “I’ll keep you company, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  By the time they reached the library, the lecture had begun. All seats were taken. Caroline stood behind the last row and allowed herself only one smug smile at Jack for not having believed her.

  The assistant curator giving the talk was so far away, and the lighting so poor, that Caroline knew she’d scarcely be able to see the photos. All the same, she’d stay. There was no telling when she’d be able to orchestrate a museum day again.

  Jack stood by her side, arms crossed over his chest. About five minutes into the lecture, he leaned close and said in a low voice, “Let me see if I understand this. You’re attending a lecture about an exhibition that’s over and done with, which itself was just displays about how people in other lands live.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s life third-hand.”

  Didn’t he think she knew that?

  “I’m lucky to be here at all,” she quietly said. “Mama thinks if I’m seen in a museum, I’ll be labeled a bluestocking. And certainly my parents didn’t let me go to Chicago last year.”

  A silver-haired woman with spectacles who was seated in front of Caroline turned around and shushed her.

  She whispered sorry and then glared at Jack.

  “If you don’t like it here, leave,” she whispered.

  Instead a large hand curled around her wrist.

  She tried to tug free, but he mouthed, “Trust me.”

  Jack led her out the door and down the hallway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To life once removed.” He looked down at her and smiled. “That’s an improvement, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  He released her wrist and ushered her down the main set of stairs. The heels of her boots tapped a quick rhythm on the marble as she worked to keep up with his longer stride.

  They stopped outside a crowded exhibition hall that bore a sign reading ALASKA.

  “I wish I could have had you here a few weeks ago,” Jack said as they took their place at the end of the line.

  She glanced up at him. “The exhibition opened only last week.” This, too, had been one of the spots she’d hoped to visit today. “How did you get in?”

  “I’ve met Lieutenant Emmons,” he replied.

  Some girls fancied stage actors or opera singers. Caroline dreamed of explorers. Emmons was both an officer in the navy and a renowned photographer and collector of Alaskan artifacts.

  “You’ve met him? Where?” she asked. And, yes, she had sounded a little breathless.

  “In Alaska,” Jack replied casually. “Three summers ago.”

  “Really?”

  He smiled. “Yes, really.”

  “And the wildest place I’ve seen is Central Park,” she said, feeling a little glu
m. “What’s it like in Alaska?”

  “Savage,” he said. “Beautiful. Wild. I’ve seen the blue ice of glaciers drop into the sea, and whales breach, and flocks of puffins work to get their fat bodies from the sea and into the air.”

  “Stop,” Caroline said. “You’re making me jealous.”

  “Then go there. See the world. You’d eat it up, Caroline.”

  “I can’t. The only thing I’m allowed to see are flocks of nobles in need of a fortune.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Maybe later, then. After you’ve married your noble, you can travel.”

  Caroline did her best to work up a smile in response. Jack’s words had been a valiant effort to give her hope, but they both knew he’d failed.

  They approached a case holding photographs of Native Americans in their exotic ceremonial garb.

  “Tlingit tribe,” Jack said, and then told her of his experiences with them.

  Life second-hand was better than nothing, Caroline supposed. And Jack did have a way of talking. She could almost see herself there, with him. And truly, she could think of no place she would rather be.

  They toured the Alaska exhibit and moved on to the fossil hall. After that, as they walked into the mammalian area, Caroline happened to glance at a clock.

  “Oh, no!” she cried.

  “What?”

  “Amelia and Helen will be home already. If they find I’m not there, they’ll raise an alarm with our father.”

  Jack took her arm in his and turned them toward the exit. “Then let’s get moving.”

  Caroline was breathless by the time he’d hurried them to the hidden spot where she’d left her bicycle, but she was calmer, too.

  “It’s not so bad,” she said to Jack. “Mama is on her way to Newport, and she’s the one who’d be most upset.”