An Unlikely Suitor (38 page)

Rowena released a puff of air. “Exactly.”

Millicent began to walk again. “Men,” she said.

Indeed.

I’m engaged!

Lucy sewed each stitch of the sleeve trim on Rowena’s costume as if adding brushstrokes to a piece of art. Each stitch was evidence of her happiness.

Yet it was a happiness she couldn’t share with her mother and sister—for different reasons. If she told Sofia, there’d be no end to the questions and the intrusion. Any hope of keeping her time alone with Dante secret or private would disappear. Sofia would demand to know more than Lucy wanted to share.

And if she told Mamma? Mamma would say it was too soon, would want to meet him, and would ask questions about the future for which there were no answers. She would be a . . . mother. Right now Lucy didn’t want a mother or a sister. She just wanted a fiancé and for the world to consist of only two.

Sofia sat at the sewing machine, her head on her hand. “Come on, Lucy. Give me the sleeve. You’re taking forever. Hurry it up a bit.”

Mamma stepped in. “Even though it’s just a costume, it’s still important to do—”

Suddenly, Sofia stood and pointed out the window. “Mr. Oswald’s running! Something must have happened.”

Sure enough, they heard a commotion coming from the Oswalds’ quarters, and then he burst through the door of the workroom. “Haverty’s fallen out of the loft! A doctor’s been summoned, but I came to get me wife to help. She knows something about nursing.”

Mamma set her sewing aside. “So do I.”

“And I,” Lucy said. A broken limb could be the kiss of death for a working man.

Lucy and Sofia got up to follow, but Sofia suddenly held back. “I’ll stay here and continue working.”

Lucy started to complain, figuring it was just one of her sister’s ways to avoid work, but then Sofia said, “Lucy, you know I grow faint at such times.”

It was true. Sofia cowered at the sight of any scrape or cut.

Lucy pointed a finger at her. “Get a lot done while we’re gone.”

Then Sofia did something odd. She saluted and said, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Thank you for getting hurt, Haverty. . . .

While she was alone Sofia sewed like a wildfire, needing to get as much accomplished as quickly as possible so she’d be free to talk to Hugh when he stopped by the workroom, as promised. All morning she’d worried and fretted about how it would play out. Would Hugh simply come to the door and ask to speak with her?

The thought of Mamma and Lucy keeping tabs on them, watching through the windows . . .

But now, thanks to Haverty, the coast was clear for them to have some time alone.

If only he would come before everyone gets back.

Sofia sewed and prayed, sewed and prayed.

And then, during the umpteenth time she looked toward the house, she saw him hurrying toward the workroom.

Not wanting to miss a moment with him, she met him at the door and pulled him inside. Her first impulse was to fling her arms around his neck, but she restrained herself. “You came,” she said.

He kissed her on the cheek. “I came, but alas, not for long. I hear Haverty fell in the stables. He’s a good friend. I have to go to him.”

Sofia felt her countenance fall, along with her hopes. “But plenty of people are there to help. Mamma and Lucy went, which left me alone here, and I . . . I was waiting for you to come.” She didn’t like the desperation in her voice but found she could do nothing to stop it.

He lifted both her hands to his lips and smiled. “I promised we would have time together, and we will. Tonight don’t eat dinner with your family but make your excuses. At six o’clock I’ll meet you at the front gate. Do you like seafood?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“After tonight, you will.” With a glance out the window, he took her face in his hands and kissed her fully on the lips, but softly, as if he treasured her as something delicate and rare.

He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Words cannot express . . .”

Then he rushed out the door and ran toward the stables.

Sofia stood there, frozen in the moment, wondering if the last few seconds had really happened, knowing they had, yet wishing for more.

And then with a blink she came into the present and repeated “ ‘Words cannot express’? Cannot express what?”

Yet when she tried to get her own thoughts in line, to mentally express her own feelings toward Hugh, she found herself in the same situation.

Words cannot express
 . . .

Did she love him? Did he love her? Could love happen so quickly, or was this simply infatuation? And how could it ever continue with him being the heir of a great family and she . . . and she . . .

Words could not express her confusion.

“See you at the costume ball, if not before,” Millicent said as her carriage dropped Rowena off at home.

Rowena waved but found herself in a foul mood—which made her question why she’d spent any time with that girl. Gossip, comparisons, and pettiness. Millicent always left Rowena feeling bad about the world, about her life, and her future.

Timbrook opened the door for her, but before she crossed the threshold, she decided going up to her room—being alone—would only add to her dejected state. She needed a friend. And that friend was Lucy.

“If you’ll pardon me, Timbrook, I think I’ll go check on the costumes.”

“As you wish, miss.”

As an afterthought she handed him her parasol, then headed across the grounds to the workroom. Nearing the front door, seeing in the windows, it looked as though no one was there.

But then she spotted Sofia, sitting on a stool, her arms wrapped around herself, her head shaking.

Rowena knocked, then entered. “Sofia. Are you all right?”

It took the girl a moment to pull out of her daze. “I’m fine. I . . .”

“Where’s Lucy and your mother?”

“They’re down at the stables. Haverty fell out of some loft and—”

“Morrie?”

Rowena didn’t wait for an answer, but lifted her skirt and hurried across the lawn.
A fall? Is he in horrible pain? Did something break?

Her progress was accomplished in an exhausting step-hop, step-hop, so by the time she reached his quarters, she fell against the jamb of the opened door for support. Morrie was on the bed, his left leg raised upon two pillows. Lucy and Mrs. Scarpelli were tying some fabric together, creating a receptacle for ice held in a bowl by Mrs. Oswald. Dr. Kinsey retrieved a bottle from his doctor bag.

“You are to take—” When Morrie looked in Rowena’s direction, so did the doctor. “Miss Langdon.”

She ignored him and ran to the bedside, falling to her knees beside Morrie. She took his hand and pulled it close. “Oh, Morrie. Are you in much pain? What can I do to help?”

“I’ll be fine, Ro. Don’t fret about—”

The doctor cleared his throat.

With a glance, Rowena realized she’d shocked him by being so familiar with their coachman. She held out her hand to him, wanting an assist to standing. “Sorry, Dr. Kinsey. I just heard the news. Morrie and I have been friends since childhood and—”

Hugh came in, carrying a glass of water. “I’ve already explained to the doctor that old Morrie here is responsible for teaching me all sorts of mischief.”

Morrie managed a smile. “You came up with your fair share.”

The doctor handed Rowena the bottle of medicine. “Since Mr. Haverty is such a good friend to you both, then perhaps you should be the ones to administer his medicine. One teaspoon of laudanum every four hours.”

“Is his leg broken?”

“Luckily, no. It’s just a very bad ankle sprain and some bruises. He needs to keep his leg elevated and iced. The medicine is for the pain.”

Rowena had never been on the giving side of medicines, but remembered being under her own dose of this drug when she’d broken her leg. Though it had helped tame the pain, it had caused her to sleep for days. And as far as the break? Her leg had never healed correctly. For Morrie, who needed a strong body for work . . . “Will he recover fully?”

“I have to recover,” Morrie said.

“If you’re careful and keep off of it for a few days until the swelling goes down, you should be fine.”

“Hugh and I will make sure he behaves,” Rowena said. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Lucy staring at her.

The doctor closed his bag and put on his hat. “I’ll leave you in these good hands, then.” He nodded and left.

“Can we get anything else, Miss Langdon? Master Hugh?” Mrs. Oswald asked.

Hugh dismissed them with a hand. “We’ve got it. Thank you for your help.”

As soon as the three women left, Hugh sat at the foot of the bed. “You can leave now, Wena. I will—”

Morrie shook his head. “Let Ro take care of me.”

Hugh’s eyebrows rose. “That’s the thanks I get? To be dismissed in favor of my sister?”

“She smells better than you.”

Rowena turned to her brother. “I’ll be fine, Hugh. Let Mother know where I am.”

“She won’t approve.”

She wouldn’t. Mother didn’t like Rowena spending time at the stables, much less having Morrie as a friend. “Move that chair over here, please.”

Hugh moved the chair next to the bed. Rowena sat, then shooed him away. “Go on, now. I’ve got him.”

“I can see that.” He winked at Morrie. “Cheerio, old chap. Behave yourself.”

“I’ll do my best.”

With his exit, the room was finally quiet but for the normal sounds from the stable. Rowena wrung out a cloth and placed it on Morrie’s forehead. “I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

He put a hand on her forearm, stopping her movement. “I’m not.”

She met his eyes and saw an intensity that made her look away. “Don’t be silly. No one wants to get hurt.”

“It’s given me time with you, hasn’t it?”

Rowena froze. Surely Morrie hadn’t injured himself just so he could spend time with her.

“Don’t look at me that way,” he said. “I’m not that crazy.”

She let relief wash over her and immediately felt foolish. No man would go to such extremes to spend time with her. From her experience with Edward it seemed just the opposite, that being in her presence was an imposition or a duty.

She shook her head, needing to dispel such thoughts, then took up the bottle of medicine and a spoon. “I should give you the laudanum now.”

Morrie shook his head. “Not yet. Now that I have you here, now that we can sit close without fear, I don’t want to sleep.”

“But the pain—”

“I will endure more than this to spend time with you, Ro.”

She pulled back. “Don’t say such things.”

“If not now, when? After you’ve married DeWitt?”

Rowena stood and moved behind the chair. “But I need to marry Edward.”

“Why?”

It was such a simple question, without a simple answer. “Because . . . because my parents want—”

“What do
you
want, Ro?”

She hated the way her thoughts became a jumble. She moved to a tall dresser and picked up a brush and then a comb.

What
did
she want? She wanted to be loved and to love. She wanted a husband and marriage and—

“I love you, Rowena.”

Her legs felt weak and she gripped the top of the dresser for support. She closed her eyes, keeping her back to him. When they were children she’d dreamed of marrying Morrie. They’d talked about where they would live and—