Heiress (16 page)

Please, Bennett?

He seemed to rise to her inner pleas. “Yes, brother, I’m just as happy taking rooms in town. I hate to disturb you and your wife. I know you must have missed her. And she, you.”

Jinx cut a look at Bennett, and the way he stared at her—finally looking at her—her throat tightened. He didn’t take his eyes away from her, holding her gaze as Foster laughed, something harsh and bright. “Oh, we’ll be fine, Bennett. As you see, her mother has taken a suite as well. I hardly think Jinx has been lonely.”

He clamped his brother on the shoulder. “Your trunks are being unloaded as we speak. My house is yours. Besides, in a few days, I must continue on to New York. I have shipments to greet and accounts to settle.”

“But you’ve only just returned.”

Had she said it? She’d thought it, yes, but the protest issued from Bennett.

“Business calls. Someone needs to keep my wife in gowns and jewelry, right Jinx?”

“But—but I have to talk to you. It’s about…” She glanced at Bennett, who was now inspecting the gardeners’ work, a real horticulturist.

Foster glanced at him, back to her.

Fine. She cut her voice to low. “I am no longer with child, Foster.”

He made no response, just breathed in the news. Bennett closed his eyes, something like a wince on his face.

Finally, Foster nodded. “I expected it, frankly, Jinx. It seems you can give me nothing of worth.”

She flinched.

“But fear not, I heard the news in port a few days ago. I trust you’re feeling better?” His gaze ran over her, and she knew he had to be comparing her.

“Somewhat.”

“Splendid. I’ll return in time for the motor coach cotillion,” he said. “As long as work doesn’t tarry me.” He winked at Bennett.

She watched Bennett’s mouth tighten, just a bit, on the edges.

“In the meantime, Bennett can fill in as your escort to your summer soiree and fripperies. Introduce him around. I’ve already paid his fee for the Casino—he loves a good game of lawn tennis, don’t you, Bennett?”

“I don’t need a nanny.”

“Jinx plays a passable game of lawn tennis. And she’s brutal in croquet, aren’t you, peach?”

Bennett looked at her again, compassion in his eyes.

Clearly, he’d heard her confession. She wanted to dissolve into the terrace.

However, a lady didn’t air her pain before guests. “Do you know how to drive a car, Bennett?”

“I haven’t yet had the pleasure.”

“Great idea, Jinx. Take him motoring. And to all the lawn parties and to Bailey’s Beach.” He boxed his brother on the shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find yourself a wife.”

Bennett glanced at him, but Foster hadn’t finished. In fact he rounded on Jinx, something dark and sharp in his eyes. “If anyone can marry you off, it’s Jinx.”

* * * * *

She could lose herself under the glitter of the Newport night sky. Jinx sat on a chair, her gaze more on the way the moon flowed like syrup across the ocean than Puck’s soliloquy in the final scene of Shakespeare’s
A Midsum
mer Night’s Dream.
The back lawn of Beechwood Estates, the milky white mansion of Caroline Astor, spilled out to the sea, the moon turning the lawn to silver. On the terrace, a stage and light showcased a private group of players shipped in for the Astor’s amusement.

“‘If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended…’”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bennett leaned close, his voice low, sending a tremor through her. She glared at him and he sat upright as, on stage, the player Puck finished then bowed to the applause of his audience. It seemed Caroline Astor had invited the entirety of Newport to her gathering under the clear August skies for the Shakespearean festival.

At least Foster had finally left for New York City. He managed to turn a few days into two interminable weeks that stretched out into painful silences and a fog of cigarette smoke drifting from his billiards room. He and Bennett jaunted off to the port every day, lost in some business transactions. They left her to plan the motor chase cotillion, make her daily coaching tour along Bellevue, attend one of Mamie Fish’s lawn parties, and take in her daily dip at Bailey’s Beach.

Fully clothed and under the canopy of the bathing cart, of course.

She’d also managed to spread the word that Foster’s younger brother had returned to the States in need of a wife.

An influx of calling cards appeared at her door that very afternoon.

Jinx applauded with the crowd then allowed Bennett to help her to her feet. She slid her hand through his cocked arm, necessary to keep up appearances.

“You were daydreaming at the end, Mrs. Worth,” he said, nodding to Alice Vanderbilt. Jinx had spent the past three days introducing him to as many of society’s notables as she could, making a list of the eligible ladies still unspoken for, responding to calling cards. If Foster wanted his brother married off, yes, she could manage that. Anything to get Bennett out of the house and out of her thoughts.

Especially her thoughts. It didn’t help that the sultry night captured the fragrance of the salty sea, the aroma of the freshly manicured grass, stirring romance. Not to mention that Bennett wore a Parisian male fragrance that she found particularly distracting. Annoying, even.

“I’m thinking that I find this particular Shakespearean production frivolous. Imagine having a potion that makes a man fall in love with you. It’s ridiculous. Poor Helena. No wonder she felt as if the men were mocking her when they professed their love. It was just a game.”

“At least she and Hermia married the men they loved.”

“But did the men truly love them back?”

“It was supposed to be a dream.”

“A dream it was, because the girl who regards love as a serious matter is a girl who has never been in love.”

He slid his hand over hers. “People do stupid things under the light of the moon.”

“Come, I’ll introduce you to Her Grace the Duchess of Marlboro, Consuelo Vanderbilt. Her mother locked her in her room for two weeks until she agreed to marry the Duke. I wonder what she might think of this play.”

She angled toward the dark-haired only daughter of Alva Vanderbilt, her body swollen with child, and cut her voice to a stage whisper. “The woman gave birth to the heir to the Spencer-Churchill legacy only a year ago. She refers to this child as ‘the spare.’ Her duke she left conveniently at Blenheim Palace in England.”

“You women have a delicious view of marriage.”

“And you men seem to think it a game.”

Beside her, Bennett smiled at a number of young women, clearly the gaggle having spent most of the evening circling the eligible bachelor, hoping for an introduction, as evidenced by the way they used their fans to hide their smiles.

Jinx had never played at the game of debutante flirting.

Consuelo was occupied by a group of aunts, so Jinx allowed Bennett to guide her across the lawn, toward the edge, where the dark waves splattered upon the rocks below.

Jinx suppressed a yawn, then couldn’t help it and covered her mouth.

“I should get you home.”

“Not until you tell me whom you would like to call on. I can make the arrangements.”

“You don’t have to find me a match, Jinx.”

“I think Foster would like to see you married. I know your parents would. They are getting older—”

“My father’s mind slipped away years ago. And mother is more interested in the bottom of her whiskey bottle than my advantageous marriage.”

“Bennett!”

“I’m sorry, but they decided long ago that the only Worth they trusted was Foster. I failed out of West Point, and they sent me away to Paris to forget my name.”

“But you made a name for yourself. Foster said you tripled the company’s worth in the past two years.”

He glanced down at her, surprise in his eyes. “Foster told you that?”

“I listen to his conversations sometimes. He speaks highly of you to his friends.”

“Too bad my father didn’t have the mind to recognize it.”

“I learned long ago not to hope in the approval of a father.” The words sounded harsh, even bitter in her ears.

He said nothing, the chamber music of Mrs. Astor’s orchestra lilting across the grass.

“Why do they call you Jinx?”

She removed her hand from the crook of his arm. Her body felt sticky with the heat, despite the breeze off the ocean. “My father called me Jinx. At first, I loved the name, thought it was a term of endearment. Only later did I realize he meant I had brought him bad luck.”

“Jinx…” Bennett turned to her, the texture of kindness in his eyes.

“Please, don’t. I have long come to believe we make our own luck, design our own fate. No one will look after us but ourselves.”

“That’s not true, Jinx.”

“Really? My father is a cheater and a cruel man, and he married me off to one of the same. My mother and I have had to fight for every piece of this life I’ve attained, and Foster hasn’t a clue about what I do to keep him in good society. Shall we walk?” She turned, and he drew in a long breath before he held out his elbow.

“Foster doesn’t mean to be cruel.”

“Of course not. He just despises me because he believes I conspired to make him marry the wrong sister.”

“The wrong sister? I don’t understand.”

“He was engaged to my sister, Esme. But she eloped with our butler’s son and—”

“You married him in her place. I always wondered if I read the paper incorrectly.”

“We were friends, and I misread his affections.”

“I’m sure he was agreeable, or he would have never said yes. I know Foster. He’s a stubborn man, set in his ways.”

“He wanted Esme, and settled for me to get his hands into my father’s newspaper and influence. I use to think he wanted to run for a public office, and having the newspaper would only advance his cause. It’s made it worse that I haven’t been able to offer him a child. I fear he’s tiring of trying. And of me.”

“Jinx.”

Her name, again, on his voice, in that tone, could unravel her. She looked away from him. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

“Yes, you should have. Foster is stupid not to see what he has.”

She hated how he could find the kindest things to say at the most raw of moments. She drew in a breath. “Tell me which of these women here you want to meet?”

“I’ve already—”

She nearly tripped, and dug her grip into his arm.

“Are you okay? Did you turn your ankle?” He led her to a folding chair, settled her upon it, kneeling before her.

She slapped his hands away then cut her voice low at his startled expression. “That’s the last thing I need—for Mrs. Astor to see my brother-in-law lifting my skirt.”

“I’m hardly lifting your skirt. You twisted your ankle.”

“I’m fine.” She leaned back, stifled another yawn. “Just exhausted.”

He took the chair next to her. “You haven’t been sleeping?”

“Too hot outside.” She fanned herself for practicality only. “Sometimes, I stand at the window and stare at the fountain, wishing I could be like the swans and splash through the cool water.” She fought a smile. “I have this wild dream of showing up at Bailey’s Beach in my bare feet and wading into the water.”

Oh. Whoops. She hadn’t quite meant to share that. Heat flushed her face, and she glanced at Bennett, hoping he hadn’t really heard.

Unfortunately, he was regarding her, those blue eyes on her, as if trying to unravel her words. The wind tousled his dark blond hair, ruffled his tie. Then, “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Please, Jinx.” Her heart tripped, thumped in her chest, an unfamiliar tingle in her veins.

She couldn’t rightly make a scene, could she? Especially with him standing over her, extending his hand. She took it and he helped her up then led her through the house, signaling their footman at the door for their landau. He shooed the man away and helped her with his own hand into the carriage.

“We didn’t say good-bye to Mrs. Astor.” She felt oddly mischievous, even naughty.

“I promise you, no one noticed.” He leaned back against the seat, staring at the stars.

She did the same. Let her heart trip then settle into a regular, albeit quicker beat.

“Can you trace the Big Dipper?”

“No.”

He pointed it out, then the Little Dipper. “And those three bright stars are Orion’s Belt.”

“Where?”

He moved over beside her, pointed to the sky. She nodded, but didn’t see, his nearness suddenly befuddling her senses. He smelled dangerously sweet.

She finally sat up and saw that instead of turning left, to Rosehaven, they’d continued down Bellevue Avenue, past the Breakers and the Chateau-Sur Mer, past Alva’s Marble House, and toward the center of town. “Where are we going?”

“Just a little place I know about. I promise, no one will know.”

No one will know. Well, they had already kept one secret.

Instead of turning toward the wharf, they went east along Memorial Drive, into the middle class section of town, the older, smaller, sea-beaten homes, then onto the peninsula connecting Newport to Aquidneck Island.

Bennett leaned up as they came to a rutted two-wheeled path. Beyond the scrub of the wispy beach grasses and tangle of wild roses, the ocean glistened under the moonlight.

“Stay here,” he instructed the footman, and helped Jinx off the landau, holding her around the waist, his hands firm on her as she sank into the pearly sand.

“Where are we?”

“Foster and I used to come here when we were younger, when my parents took rooms in town. It was the only place we could swim without our knickerbockers.”

“Bennett!”

“Shh. I promise to keep my knickers on.” He glanced at her, grinned.

Sometimes, like now, she could easily grasp that he was only a year older than she.

He helped her to the beach and to a pale, skinned piece of driftwood. “Sit, please.” He held her hands as she sank down onto it.

Then he knelt into the sand and reached for her hem.

“Bennett.”

“Trust me. I won’t look.” He raised her hem enough to slide her slippers from her feet, roll her stockings off.

“Put your feet in the sand.”