An Unconventional Courtship (5 page)

He slowed their pace, and she glanced up. “Before I take you back to your friends, you must give me your address so I may properly call on you. Where do you live?”

“Behavior such as yours will not be tolerated in front of my parents, so, to keep you in line, it is probably best that you call on me in a manner befitting our rank. The house, right there,” she pointed to a rather large home on the same side of the street as the church, “is my parents’ home. You may call on me there tomorrow. Tea is served at four.” Her eyes held a great deal of mirth now, instead of tears.

No doubt about it. Charlotte Ashcroft was the most confounding woman he’d ever come across.

“Count on it, then. I’ll be there.” He returned Charlotte to Emma’s side, doffed his top hat to the ladies, and then turned around and walked away. His long strides as he rapidly left the park made his heart beat erratically. Or perhaps it was Charlotte who made his heart beat in such an unhealthy rhythm? She certainly had been able to keep him off balance this afternoon. But she had invited him to call on her. He was supposed to have dinner with his father and the Weymouths tomorrow evening, including Jane. Perhaps tea in the afternoon with Charlotte and her parents and then dinner with Jane and her parents would be a good way to gauge who he was better suited for. Because he was very unsure of his course at this moment.

He finally was gaining access to Charlotte and her family. A stolen kiss on the hand was one thing. Spending an afternoon with her parents quite another. The first step toward a lasting relationship had been granted. If he wanted it. The question was, did he? Being able to compare the two women tomorrow would be a good test.

George stood on the sidewalk in front of the imposing, gray stone house the following afternoon, and stopped to take a gulp of air. It was one thing to flirt with a pretty girl. It was quite another to willingly spend some time with her parents and get to know the family further. This step meant he was serious in his intentions and thinking about marriage.

Well, he was thinking about marriage. Had been ever since he first spied Charlotte and her friends climbing onto the omnibus. Why her, though? Why not one of her friends instead? Why not Jane? Who could understand the complexities of the human mind? Or instant attraction? The only thing that registered with George was one moment he had been a carefree young man beginning his professional life by following in his father’s footsteps, and the next, he was thinking about how his life, professional and otherwise, would not be complete without marriage and children.

But who would be the bride? Sensible Jane Weymouth or spontaneous Charlotte Ashcroft? He could imagine a future with Charlotte as he climbed the stairs to her parents’ home. He pictured a wedding day, the proud presentation of the Ashcroft’s first grandchild to Charlotte’s parents, perhaps even having their eldest son work in the bank along with his father and him. He wanted it all. It was time to decide which woman he would pursue as a bride and which to let go. Dinner with Jane and her family came later. Right now, he was here to see Charlotte. His heart skipped a beat, but his knock was firm. He adjusted his cravat and the tails of his frock coat as he waited on the porch for the door to be opened.

The butler admitted him with no melodrama, which George considered a good sign. That meant he had been expected. He was ushered into the front parlor, relieved of his hat, and told to take a seat. George couldn’t sit, so he paced. His frayed nerves wouldn’t smooth out until he could see Charlotte again. Simply to gauge his reaction to her, of course. Perhaps in the staid, normal surroundings of a well-turned-out parlor room, Charlotte would lose some of her luminescence. He tried to calm himself by taking a few deep breaths. They only made him lightheaded. So he resumed pacing.

Steps in the hallway brought him to attention. He turned to face the doorway, eager to see Charlotte again, only to have his hopes dashed as Mrs. Ashcroft entered the room alone. George’s heart sank. He should have guessed he’d have to answer to her mother before he could get a glimpse of Charlotte. And only then if her mother thought he passed muster.

“Mrs. Ashcroft? How nice to see you again.” George moved forward with an outstretched hand, which Charlotte’s mother ignored.

“Sit down, young man, and let’s have some tea. You and I have serious matters to discuss.”

“Yes, ma’am. By the way, these are for you.” He pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They were lilacs, and he had hoped to present them to Charlotte, but her mother stood between them. A bouquet meant for another was a small sacrifice.

Mrs. Ashcroft took the lilacs and inhaled their scent deeply, one hand on her heart. “My daughter told me you were a smooth-talking fellow. I see now she was correct.”

“Believe me, Mrs. Ashcroft, I am no smooth talker. My intentions toward your daughter are most honorable and have been since the day we met. I am employed, respectably, at my father’s bank, National City. I hope you and Mr. Ashcroft will consider me a suitable gentleman.”

“We’ll see about that. My daughter will be arriving shortly. But please tell me how you two met. Charlotte’s been extremely vague about it.”

George could not very well reveal the actual events that led to their meeting. If Mrs. Beasley and Charlotte had managed to keep quiet, he certainly was not about to relay the chain of oddities that led to their meeting.

“Certainly, Mrs. Ashcroft. We met the day your husband and daughter visited the bank where I work. My father wanted me to meet them, since I’ll be handling most of Miss Ashcroft’s holdings.”

George tried to put aside the thought of how Charlotte had responded to him yesterday. Her outrageous suggestion that he kiss her hand in the park, in the open, had stunned him before he’d complied. Then, she had become defensive about his response to her suggestion. Such a contradictory woman. He wondered whom he’d find today. The coquette or the proper maiden?

Charlotte swept into the room moments later. George stood abruptly, sloshing the remains of his tea over the side of his cup. He prayed Mrs. Ashcroft hadn’t noticed.

“Miss Ashcroft, how nice to see you again. May I say, the deep brown of your dress pales in comparison to the color of your eyes?”

Charlotte smiled and placed her hand in his. As he leaned over her hand, he couldn’t help but notice the glance that ricocheted between mother and daughter. His remark about her dress had rolled off his tongue without thought. Perhaps he was a smooth talker after all. He had to think of a topic of conversation that didn’t involve Charlotte and him.

He took his place again in the uncomfortable navy blue wing chair and faced Charlotte’s mother. “Charlotte told me you are a fan of Thomas Jefferson.”

Mrs. Ashcroft placed her hand to her heart. “Such a pity that man, and his creative mind, has died. I would love to have met him. I even had plans to visit his home in Virginia. Did you know that anyone could show up there when he was in residence, and wait in the big central hallway to be admitted to his office?”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I read it somewhere.” Her hand fluttered in front of her. “Depending on what he had obligated himself to, it might have taken days to get to see him. But just imagine who the others waiting in the hallway might have been. Why, I could have run into William Clark or maybe Andrew Jackson! I do love the explorers.”

“You might have even met an Indian!” George said. “I know he entertained a few of them prior to his death.”

George caught Charlotte’s smile of amusement at this statement, and was struck by how similar, yet different, mother and daughter were. He enjoyed them both.

“Ooh, to meet an Indian is my fondest wish before I pass. But let’s get back to the subject at hand. You seem quite a suitable gentleman, Mr. Fitzpatrick. If Charlotte has no objections, I will discuss with her father tonight the merits of adding you to her list of suitors. After all, I do have a soft spot in my heart for Thomas Jefferson, and I can tell you have some knowledge of the man.”

Charlotte stole a glance at him from under her lashes. “I have no objections to having Mr. Fitzpatrick court me. Whether it will go any further has yet to be seen.”

Even though her eyes were downcast, George caught the twinkle in them. He was certain Miss Charlotte Ashcroft would not be easily led into his arms. But at least she was granting him the opportunity. He could have died right then and been a happy man. But he still had a dinner with Jane and her family to get through.

• • •

Charlotte willed her racing heart to slow as she extended her hand to George before he departed. They had just agreed to see each other, pending the approval of her father. What a monumental step! Ever since their scandalous kiss in the park, she had thought of nothing else. Just how soft his lips had been as they brushed her fingertips. How her tingling digits shot sparks of electricity up her arm and down her body. It had taken every ounce of reserve for her to pull her hand away and to act unaffected.

She needed to make certain George didn’t get the wrong idea about her. She was not a loose woman, even though the traitorous kiss had been out in the open where any passerby could have seen them. Nor was she a woman who would automatically fall into his embrace, which she presumed had been his experience with other women. He
was
the most handsome man she had ever seen, with his dark brown hair and clear, sky blue eyes, and she could tell from the way he eagerly complied with her request to kiss her that she was not the first woman with whom he’d become familiar. But she sure as blazes would be his last!

Her mother sat to drink the last of the tea in her cup. She ran a hand over her hair before she peered up at Charlotte, who was pacing the room. “Oh, do sit, Charlotte. I have only a few minutes before I must leave for my revivalist meeting, and we need to talk.”

Charlotte ceased her pacing and perched in the chair George had just vacated. His scent of sandalwood and tobacco remained between the wings of the chair, and Charlotte inhaled deeply. If she and George were to marry, she’d be able to smell these combined scents every day. The thought pleased her immensely and she smiled.

“Presuming your father gives his blessing for you and Mr. Fitzpatrick to see each other, you will have to comport yourself carefully. The man has a good pedigree, seeing as how his father owns a bank, but he has no college aspirations. And you know how your father feels about higher education for gentlemen.”

Charlotte bolted upright. “I don’t give a fig about a college education, Mother.”

“You may not, but your father certainly puts store in it. We both would like to see you and Theodore Schoonover get together. He will be home from Harvard soon, for the summer instead of just a rushed weekend. Granted, he has one more year before he’s done with school, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he seeks your father’s permission this summer to marry you. Of course, you’ll need to wait until he’s a graduate before the wedding can take place. You certainly don’t want to spoil your chances for a good marriage by developing feelings for another while Theo’s away getting the education he needs to properly support you.”

Charlotte could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, so she attempted to deflect the conversation. “But how do you know if a man is right for you? If he’ll make a good husband? I’m terribly confused. Tell me about when you first met Papa. Did you have any idea he would become your husband? You’ve never talked about it.”

Her mother took a deep breath. “It’s the way of the world. Each generation thinks they’re the ones who invented romance. Your father and I were no different from anyone else. We were drawn together from the very first meeting, at a church social. It didn’t take long to figure out we were meant to be together. Oh, but I put up a good front, and your father had to really work at winning my hand. Our courtship lasted an entire year, and he never guessed I was as madly in love with him as he professed constantly he was with me.”

“But, if you were attracted to him from the beginning, how did you manage to put forth an air of coolness until you had him snared?”

“Ah, that’s the hardest part. Keeping the man interested without revealing all your cards at once. I observed you and Theodore together the afternoon of the boat races, and I must admit, you’re doing a superb job of keeping him at an arm’s length.”

Charlotte’s cheeks burned hot as she thought of the boat race and her reaction, not to Theo, but to George. Her mother must have missed the exchange of heated glances between them. And she certainly could never be told of the kiss in the park, however innocent it may have been.

Her mother stood abruptly. “I must leave. I don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

Charlotte waited for her mother to depart the room before she inhaled another whiff of the manly scent George had left behind. A few months of courtship with George were ahead of her, assuming her father approved, which was not a sure thing. He would probably insist that she continue to allow Theo to call on her this summer, too. She had to find a way to appear cool and nonchalant with both gentlemen. Could she do so? With Theo, she had no doubt. But with George? Her body still threw off sparks every time she remembered their brief encounter in the park. How many more brief encounters could she handle without succumbing to him completely?”

She grinned and buried her nose in the chair upholstery, hoping for one last whiff to take with her. Surely her parents had never experienced these feelings toward each other. But she had to resist making things too easy for George. And she had to figure out how to remove that other woman from his side. Jane Weymouth needed to find someone else to love. George was spoken for, in Charlotte’s mind, anyway.

Perhaps she could lead Theo to Jane? Yes, that was the answer. Charlotte had caught the exchange of glances between Jane and Theo the day of the boat races. The poor girl had been so blatant in her desire for Theo. Charlotte smiled. It was probably the same desirous glance that happened between her and George. What a perfect solution to the problem! They were two couples with the wrong partners. Well, not for long. Soon, she’d have George right where she wanted him.