Duke of a Gilded Age (9 page)

She danced up the path. “Come on!”

Wesley chuckled as he hastened after her. He’d been at this spot with his parents before, but it had never seemed as magical as it did right now, through Belle’s eyes.

At the center of Bow Bridge, Belle and Wesley leaned out over against the cast-iron railing to watch the water rippling on the surface of the lake.

“I’m so glad you brought me here,” she said. “Do you suppose those men in the rowboats brought their lady friends here to propose?”

“It’s entirely possible. Let’s watch to see which boat tips over when the gentleman gets down on one knee.”

She laughed. “I admire your sense of humor. Errol is always so dignified.”

“Errol…is that your fiancé?”

“Yes. Sir Errol Blankenship. He’s a knight.”

“Does he have a white horse?”

“What? Oh, you’re joking with me again!”

“A bit. No offense meant.”

“None taken. I may seem serious on the outside, you see, but I like to laugh. I’m frequently filled with flights of fancy.”

“What marvelous alliteration! I solemnly salute your sagacious soliloquy.”

“Aha! I pay homage to the haste of your homily.”

Wesley doffed his derby hat and bowed from the waist. “I’m decidedly defeated by your deft debate.”

“You can’t be defeated until we conquer the castle together,” she said. “Lead on!”

They made their way to the castle and climbed to the observation deck with a view of the reservoir and surrounding park. Belle admired the whimsical gray granite structure, composed of many towers and wooden pavilions.

“It’s like something from a fairy tale,” she said.

“Surely you’ve seen a great many castles before, in England?”

“A fair few, but none so little and charming. Belvedere seems designed to draw people in, whereas real castles are designed to keep people out.”

Wesley fanned himself with his derby hat. “I’m beginning to feel the August heat in earnest. If you’d like, we can go to the Casino for lunch.”

“Casino?”

“It’s a restaurant,” he explained. “We can get refreshments there.”

“Let’s do.”

They retraced their steps over Bow Bridge and turned onto a path alongside the lake to the east. The Bethesda Fountain lay ahead, the focal point of the lower terrace. In the middle of the fountain, a bronze, winged angel stood on a pedestal to bless the water flowing down to the large round pool. Children clustered at the edge of the fountain, trailing little fingers in the cool, refreshing water.

“This is a very beautiful setting,” Belle said. “It looks like a palace.”

“I wonder if anyone would notice if I took off my shoes and waded in the pool?”

“I wouldn’t try it. Rumor has it the palace guards can be quite severe.”

“Capital offense, eh? Then I’ll just have to settle for a cold drink.”

Wesley escorted Belle up the expansive stone steps to the upper terrace, where the concert grounds and mall spread out under a long canopy of trees. Despite the heat, the mall was filled with people from all walks of life, from recent immigrants to American aristocrats.

“This is the place to see and be seen, I think,” Belle said.

“Yes. It’s like a big democratic festival, isn’t it?”

A few feet away, a little girl with long dark hair began to wail. Her parents tried, without success, to soothe her as best they could. Belle couldn’t understand their language, but she guessed they were of Italian descent.

“Excuse me a moment, Belle,” Wesley said.

He hastened over to the family and began to converse with them in their native tongue. The little girl’s tears dried up as he spoke, and the father nodded in understanding.

“Grazie, giovanotto. Grazie mille.”

Smiling, the mother took her daughter by the hand and the family made their way down the mall. Belle stared at Wesley, dumbfounded, as he returned to her side.

“You speak Italian?”

“A little. I’m sure I butchered the language something awful, but the little girl wanted to find the carrousel. Her parents were lost and about to give up when I told them where to find it. At least, I hope that’s what I said.”

“That was very kind, Wesley. How do you know Italian?”

“With so many Italians in Brooklyn, you learn a little of their lingo if you want to get along. I used to be friendly with everybody until I committed an unpardonable sin.”

“Which was?”

“The Irish discovered I was related to royalty. After that, I became an outsider to most everyone except the Italians, who didn’t seem to care. To them, I was
paisan—
a friend.”

A path from the upper terrace led to a charming stone cottage known as the Central Park Casino. Belle noticed many expensive carriages were parked out front, on a circular gravel driveway. “I take it this is a rather fashionable place?” she said as they mounted the few steps to the entrance.

“Indeed it is. They’ll let
you
in, certainly, but they may bar me at the door.”

The restaurant wasn’t that large, but many diners sat outside on the veranda or under the Wisteria pergola at the western edge of the site. As it had grown very hot outside, Belle chose to sit in the cool restaurant and sip iced lemonade. When the waitress returned to take their food order, Belle ordered a light luncheon of fresh stuffed tomatoes and chicken salad. Wesley, on the other hand, ordered a more substantial meal consisting of tenderloin steak, fried potatoes, spinach, stewed mushrooms, and cucumber salad.

While they waited for their food to be served, Belle glanced around the restaurant. The foliage from many potted palms gave the place a garden appeal, and despite the resplendent patrons, the establishment had a comfortable atmosphere.

“Thank you for today, Wesley,” she said. “I feel very fortunate to have visited Central Park with you.”

“I’ve enjoyed myself as well.”

“My father informs me that tomorrow after breakfast, Mr. Cavendish and your mother’s new lady’s maid will report to your suite.”

“What for?”

“To pack your trunks. Most of them must be sent to the ship ahead of time.”

A cloud descended over Wesley’s face. “Everything’s changing so quickly. It’s difficult to believe I’m really leaving America.”

“It must be disconcerting, I can imagine.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, Belle. You mustn’t think for a moment that I’m not grateful. I’m fully aware how lucky I am, and I’m not complaining one bit. It’s just that I feel a little like the proverbial bull in a china shop.”

“I understand. Truly, I regret being rude when we first met. It was unpardonable.”

Wesley chuckled. “I expect I
did
look like a delinquent.” He tapped the faint bruise remaining under one eye. “Still do, as a matter of fact.”

“Not so.”

“How do I compare to the society gentlemen in your circle then? Do I pass muster?”

Belle lowered her lashes and picked up her glass of lemonade. “Erm…I daresay you won’t be able to escape the attentions of debutantes all over England, even if you wished to.”

A pink flush rose from his high, starched collar. “I’m sorry, I was referring to my manners.”

Belle wished she could evaporate into thin air.
He must think me a flirt!
She laughed to cover her embarrassment. “Manners, moving in society, and the rituals of courtship are inextricable, Wesley. Your American birth is intriguing. I wouldn’t worry overmuch how you may compare to anyone else.”

Despite her words, she couldn’t help but compare Wesley Parker to Errol. Where Wesley was enthusiastic, Errol was soulful. Wesley could be playful, but Errol was uniformly decorous. Both men were handsome in different ways, but Errol’s perfectly groomed brown hair had never invited her touch. By contrast, she was constantly stifling the urge to push Wesley’s tousled curls back from his forehead. For the first time, she was forced to consider whether or not Sir Errol Blankenship might be wanting. Belle glared at the ceiling fan.
You’re being completely unfair to poor Errol, who isn’t here to defend himself—and you’re fickle besides!

“Are you cold?” Wesley asked. “We can move away from the fan, if you like.”

Belle stopped scowling. “Oh, er, no, thanks. I was just thinking how much Errol would enjoy it here. I’ll be sure to tell him about this restaurant in my next letter.”

Chapter Six

Folly

A
S
B
ELLE
A
ND
W
ESLEY
E
SCAPED
the afternoon heat inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, her brief feelings of disloyalty weighed heavily upon her mind. Nevertheless, she allowed her enjoyment of the exhibits to take precedence. As the clock struck five o’clock, Wesley hailed a cab to drive him and Belle back to their hotel.

With a happy smile, she relaxed against the upholstered carriage seat. “I can’t tell you when I’ve had a more wonderful day, Wesley.”

“Nor I, even though it was as hot as blazes.”

“By Monday evening you may wish the warm temperatures back again. The Atlantic Ocean can be very cold and foggy. We may even see an iceberg or two.”

“Really? Is there much to do on board the ship?”

“Passengers are usually expected to entertain themselves, by and large. Papa brought me a cabin brochure from the Inman Line ticket office. The
City of New York
is quite big, with a library and gentlemen’s smoking room. It’s designed to hold over five hundred first class and two hundred second class passengers. It can also carry one thousand in steerage, but we won’t have any steerage passengers on the eastbound voyage.”

“Did you get seasick on the crossing?”

“No, but many people did.” She shuddered. “It was horrible for them, and even the most stalwart traveler can become ill in rough seas. At any rate, the
City of New York
is much larger than the ship my father and I took from Liverpool. Perhaps we’ll feel the movement of the ocean less.”

“Before the Brooklyn Bridge opened, I used to take the ferry to Manhattan with my father. Neither of us became queasy, but I expect an ocean voyage is different.”

“A vast deal different and a great deal longer. Hopefully, the other passengers will prove amiable. If so, we’ll arrange a card game or some other entertainment.” She paused. “My father thinks you should learn to dance.”

“Dance?”

“Perhaps you already know how.”

“No. There are very few fancy parties in the Brooklyn neighborhood where I grew up.”

“Every gentleman should know how to dance. I can help you learn to waltz or polka, but we’ll need more people to form a quadrille or practice a promenade.”

“I hope you won’t laugh at me if I prove to have two left feet.”

“I expect you’ll be a wonderful dancer.”

“What makes you think so?”

She flushed with embarrassment. “The movements of your arms and hands are quite graceful.”

Wesley cleared his throat. “You’re trying to prop up my confidence.”

“Not at all, I assure you. But if you’d rather not—”

“No, no, I didn’t say that. I’m merely reluctant to make a fool of myself. If you’re game, then so am I.”

“Good. When our voyage gets underway, we’ll find a quiet spot to practice…assuming neither of us becomes queasy.”