Love on a Dime (12 page)

“Splendid. Then discourage any pursuit on Jackson’s part and introduce him to some of the eligible young ladies. That will help take his mind off of you.” Mama’s features eased back to their normal pleasantness.

Lilly nodded. “Yes, Mama.”

“I’m glad we have that settled. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fetch one of Beatrice ’s most delicious desserts. A chocolate torte. It’s very similar to the ones we had several years ago at the Sacher Hotel in Vienna.” Mama strolled back across the lawn, across the stone terrace and into the mansion.

“My goodness, Lilly. I’ve never seen your mother so upset,” Miranda said.

“But she’s calmed down.” She sipped her punch. “She ’ll be watching me carefully, so I ought to speak to Jack now.”

Miranda tilted her head and whispered so none of the couples strolling by could hear. “Lilly, do you think Jack may still love you? Your mother isn’t the only one to notice how he glances at you and follows you—”

Lilly laughed. “Nonsense. He doesn’t care for me. He thinks I’ll lead him to his authoress, that’s all there is to it.”

Miranda shook her head and the plume on her hat dipped. “Well maybe, but I don’t believe so.”

“Why not marry Harlan? He isn’t perfect, but no one is, including myself. We ’re suitable and I’m sure we ’ll have a satisfying marriage.”

After the disappointment George inflicted upon her parents with Irene, a stranger from San Francisco, Lilly was eager to give them something to be happy about. She leaned toward Miranda and spoke softly, “There is one thing that worries me. Do you think Harlan would accept my writing ministry—if he found out?” Writing in secrecy tugged at her conscience more and more as an engagement became inevitable.

“He’s too busy with his railroads to ever consider that you might have an outside interest.”

Lilly nodded. “Yes, men are so involved in their work they usually pay little attention to their wives’ activities.” She ’d eventually do what was right and tell Harlan about her writing—but not quite yet.

She’d cut Jack loose from the entanglement of the past so he might walk into the future a free man and she a free woman. No more looking back. Only forward.

TWELVE

L
acking a plausible excuse to skip the garden party, Jack dutifully joined the Westbrook entourage for a few hours of meeting and greeting friends they saw every day. He stayed to himself as he wandered the extensive grounds but kept his eye on Lilly, who chatted with Miranda beneath a shade tree. The crowd of guests dressed in their afternoon finery reminded him of peacocks on parade. Ladies in pastel dresses with matching parasols raised high above their hats acknowledged him with overly bright smiles and an endless stream of chatter.

Only a short time ago he’d envied these brightly plumed birds. They possessed everything money could buy and most had the leisure to enjoy it. Yet their needs were greater than his own. They required a flock of admirers, dozens of servants, expensive clothes, and showy carriages to incite envy among their friends and foes. Ever since he’d gone to St. Luke’s on a scholarship, he’d wanted the money and privileges his classmates claimed as their right.

If his parents were still alive, they’d frown at his misplaced ideals and wonder why he’d grown overly ambitious. After visiting the Settlement House and seeing so much poverty firsthand, he had to agree. It was something to ponder.

As Jack meandered about the grounds, his gaze swept the emerald lawn sloping down to the shore in gentle hillocks. It suggested the name of the cottage, Grassy Knoll. Yet there was nothing bucolic about the mansion, a pile of limestone formed into the most hideous, ornate, rococo palace he ’d ever seen. Still, the Carstairses served a grand spread of sandwiches and cakes which easily redeemed their taste in architecture.

He watched Mrs. Beatrice Carstairs, Eloise and Nan Holloway’s sharp-nosed and sharp-eyed mother, flit from guest to guest, ensuring everyone took pleasure in her lavish gala. The Westbrooks chatted with their oldest and dearest friends, leaving him to his own devices. With George at the dessert table, Irene flirted with the young bucks and old codgers who trailed after her like courtiers in the footsteps of their queen. Jack kept his distance.

Wandering over to one of the many enormous umbrella tents scattered across the grass, Jack felt a shadow move behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded politely to Eloise, Nan’s younger sister. He judged Eloise to be about twenty and, from the desperate look in her hooded eyes, in search of companionship or possibly more. Husband hunting was an obsession with her age group.

He wished he could reassure her with frank words.
You’re young, you’re rich. Don’t worry. You’re in no danger of becoming an old maid
.

He thought how nice it’d be to see every worry line disappear from the flat planes of her rectangular face. Taller and plumper than her mother and sister, Miss Carstairs lumbered as she came toward him. The slight hunch to her back ruined the effect of her pink-and-white gown, striped like a candy cane. Yet her vulnerability endowed her with a certain charm.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grail,” she said hesitantly.

“Good afternoon to you too, Miss Carstairs.” He stopped until she caught up. Holding a glass of iced fruit drink and a plate piled high with cucumber sandwiches and vanilla layer cake, he couldn’t offer to carry her dish of strawberries dipped in cream. They passed an open-sided tent where a five-piece orchestra played soothing music for an elderly group. He noticed how the older folks shuffled across the polished dance floor and flirted as if they were forty or fifty years younger. When he and Miss Carstairs reached the only umbrella tent still unoccupied, they sat on chairs nestled around a small table. The bright blue canvas shaded them from the late afternoon sunshine, curtailing the sea breeze but not the briny scent of the sea.

“Lovely party.” Jack nodded. “And lovely weather.” Jack tried not to gobble his food as she nibbled morsels of her own. Nearby, conversations rose and fell and laughter rang out above the hum.

“Yes, it is a beautiful day.” She grinned, showing a fine set of even teeth but too much gum. “My mother wouldn’t stand for it any other way.”

“Then she must have remarkable powers.”

Miss Carstairs giggled until tears spilled from her little round eyes and rolled down her florid cheeks. “Indeed, she has. Well, at the very least, she always gets what she wants.”

Jack nodded. Most of these grande dames could purchase anything they wished, including a husband for their daughters. Some even bought European noblemen as sons-in-law to boost their family’s status and evoke the envy of their friends. The impoverished duke or earl received an enormous financial settlement, and the American heiress, an illustrious title. When he examined Eloise ’s eager face he realized beyond a doubt that he was the object of her desire—or her mother’s marital scheme. What had taken him so long to notice?

Yet, a bachelor on the fringe of society hardly qualified for the hand of a wealthy young lady—even if she weren’t pretty or poised. He must be mistaken about Eloise Carstairs’s designs.
Come on, Jackson. Since when have you become the fool
? But perspiration seeped through his pores and his crisp white shirt began to wilt beneath his black jacket.

With his back to the mansion, he gazed over the lawn to the Atlantic Ocean. He watched the small boats cut into choppy water. How he wished he were out there working the sails and feeling the spray splash against his face and clothes. To be anywhere but here. He ’d listened to Miss Carstairs’s prattle for quite awhile before allowing his mind to drift toward the sea and the sailboat he might never own.

“Don’t you think so, Mr. Grail?”

“Excuse me. I didn’t quite hear you,” he apologized.

“You’re staring at the sea. Do you like the water?”

“I love to sail.”

She lowered her voice. “A sailboat would make a man quite a nice wedding present, don’t you agree?”

He jerked his head around to meet Miss Carstairs’s hesitant gaze. Was this merely an awkward attempt at flirting? Her eyes betrayed such a yearning for love and romance that she evoked his sympathy along with a sudden urge to run.

He fumbled for words. “Yes, but certainly a sailboat is too extravagant a gift.”

“Not if one is in love.” Her smoldering eyes made him squirm. Sweat poured in rivulets down his spine.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Mrs. Carstairs and Mrs. Westbrook glancing his way and communing behind their open fans. Conspiratorial smiles clung to their faces. Were they plotting his marital future or was he reading far too much into an innocent conversation? Surely, Mrs. Carstairs would focus her eye on someone better heeled; he lacked nearly every attribute elite society prized. Still, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he ’d come to find out the “top drawer” considered him newly “minted,” a gentleman with a fortune, a thriving publishing empire, and a future.

Why wasn’t he happier? After all, he ’d achieved his goal.

Jack looked into Eloise’s eager eyes. “I was recently in New York, and I saw more poverty than I ever thought possible. For the cost of a sailboat, you could feed hundreds of hungry people at the Christian Settlement House for months, if not a whole year.”

Eloise tilted her head. “Are you implying I should donate funds to charity?”

“Yes, I suppose I am. Excuse me for being so audacious.” Would she take umbrage at his little sermon?

She nodded slowly. “I appreciate your honesty. And I’d be delighted to contribute.”

“Thank you. They’ll certainly appreciate your generosity.” He saw Lilly approach and recognized his means of escape. “Miss Westbrook will be pleased to give you the details. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Carstairs, I’d like to try a piece of that chocolate cake I saw on the tea table.” He rose and glanced toward the veranda and the dining room inside the open French doors.

She gripped his arm. “Do stay. Please. I’ll send one of the footmen to fetch it for you.”

Jack sunk back into the wooden chair, trapped, but feeling sorry for a young lady forced to resort to physical restraint in order to hold a potential suitor. A sad sign of desperation. Eloise signaled a footman carrying a silver tray laden with breads and sweets. As luck would have it, the tray held chocolate cake. Jack chose a piece, which he didn’t actually want, and took a bite. Toying with the rich dessert, he watched Lilly slip into a chair on the opposite side of the table.

“So, you’ve met Miss Carstairs, I see.” Lilly beamed like a search light. He detested her artificial smile.

Eloise nodded. “We ’ve met on several occasions—at the opera, at a reception last spring, at a house party in the Adirondacks. Isn’t that right, Mr. Grail?”

“You have a keen memory.” From her deep blush, Jack realized he ’d made a faux pas and hurt her feelings. “Of course, I remember meeting you, but I’m amazed you recall meeting me.”

These situations often drew a man into a verbal minefield where one misstep could send him flying into the air like an exploding bomb. Pleasant bantering held hidden meanings beyond his comprehension.

“Miss Carstairs has decided to contribute to the Settlement House. Isn’t that wonderful, Lilly?”

“I am so thrilled, Eloise.” Lilly beamed.

Eloise giggled. “Mr. Grail is terribly persuasive.”

“On behalf of the Settlement House, I’d like to thank both of you,” Lilly said.

George and Irene sauntered over to the table. “How about a game of croquet? The footmen are setting up the wickets now.” George gestured toward the side lawn.

The ladies rose all together followed by a reluctant Jack. He’d jump at the suggestion of tennis, but croquet was about as appealing as scrubbing a floor. Lingering, he found himself last in the starting order, far from Eloise who was lured away by the sight of another bachelor. Jack stood right behind Lilly.
This might not be so bad after all
. Though at second glance she didn’t look overly friendly.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lilly asked, her plaster-of-Paris mask still firmly in place.

They strolled side by side to the first wicket. “It’s a grand party and the food is exceptional,” he said.

Jack’s heart thudded. Did he still have a chance to win her back? Lilly’s pull on his heart never eased up. Consumed with thoughts of her, he couldn’t concentrate on anyone or anything else.

“Where ’s Harlan this afternoon?” He fought to keep his tone genial.

“He’s not feeling well, so he left early.”

It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t appear to mind his absence. When she and Harlan were together their expressions looked stilted, their voices overly polite. A typical society couple. Jack groaned inwardly. He could offer Lilly unending love and devotion. Instead, she ’d choose the approval of her parents— wouldn’t she?

Lilly tilted her head topped with a flower-laden hat. “I’ve noticed you’re quite popular with the ladies and their mothers. I’ve heard you’re the ‘catch of the season.’”

Jack grunted his displeasure as he looked toward Eloise, flirting with a young swain while they waited for their turn to play. “I’m hardly a catch. I’m still the same small-town boy I’ve always been.”

His limp shirt continued to lose its starch.

“You are a good catch, Jack. You’re just too modest.” Lilly’s steady gaze didn’t mock and she didn’t seem to take pleasure in his discomfort.

He chuckled with more ease than he felt. “No, I’m not a suitable match.” If he were really acceptable, why didn’t Lilly respond to him?

Lilly persisted. “Mama says all the mothers are eyeing you for their daughters. Surely you’re aware of their interest.”

He grimaced. From the flurry of invitations he ’d received in the last several months, his social status had soared upward. Perhaps Lilly was right and he was now acceptable, though certainly not truly desirable. And apparently, he was still too little, too late, in the Westbrooks’ minds. If only he ’d arrived six months earlier, before Harlan Santerre entered the picture . . .

With a mallet and wooden ball in hand, Lilly waited beside a blue hydrangea bush as her brother made the first hit. Each player took a turn, leaving Jack alone again with Lilly at the first wicket.

“Eloise Carstairs is quite fond of you, Jack. I’m sure she ’s donating to the Settlement House because of you.” Though the other players ambled out of earshot, Lilly kept her voice low. “People say she ’s set her cap for you.”

“If you were teasing me, I’d laugh it off. But you’re not, are you?” His chest knotted.

“I’m serious. I don’t joke about important matters. She flirts now, with that one, solely to make you jealous.”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t like the link between Miss Carstairs and himself. Eloise wasn’t his type, but apparently Lilly wished to match them up.

“So, what’s your opinion? Should I court her?” Jack sent her a sardonic grin.

“Of course you must get to know her before you begin to court her. I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

Jack stifled a chuckle. He ’d fallen in love the moment he’d seen Lilly stride across the quadrangle of St. Luke ’s on a crisp fall day during his senior year. Though she was only about fourteen or fifteen, scarcely older than a child, he remembered how she attracted him with her straightforward manner and natural laugh. She treated him like an older brother, one to share jokes with and even tease. Smitten, he ’d waited impatiently for her to grow up.

“In my experience, Lilly, love can strike instantly.” He tightened his grip on the mallet.

She raised an eyebrow. “Then you must be a romantic.”

“Once maybe, but no longer.” He moved toward the stake. “I’m more of a cynic than a romantic.” Yet he stubbornly clung to his dreams, impossible as they were.

“I thought perhaps you might be charmed by Miss Carstairs. She’s so taken with you. Eloise is delightful.” Lilly’s voice gathered speed. “She ’ll make someone a splendid wife.”

“No doubt she will. I hope she finds the right gentleman.”

“But you’re not the one?”

“Definitely not.”

“I dare say she ’ll be disappointed.”

He couldn’t tell from her bland expression if Lilly felt let down or relieved. He hoped relieved. He listened closely to see where she ’d lead the conversation and fought to keep his disappointment from showing.