The Ringmaster's Wife (15 page)

The Florida sun was setting low in the sky, painting the canvas off in the distance in a mass of oranges and soft pinks, as if a basketful of peaches had been tossed onto the clouds. It framed her soft silhouette. Tiny wisps of hair had pulled loose from her braid to flow against the breeze, moving in a lazy dance around her neck.

Colin cleared his throat, announcing that he'd followed behind.

He walked up to her side and she half turned, hiding the full show of her emotions from him.

“Are you okay?”

Rosamund nodded, hastily wiping under her eyes with the palms of her hands. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

“That was brave back there.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, taking the delicate cloth and dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “It's been weeks building up to the moment . . . I was just overwhelmed that it's now staring me in the face. I didn't expect this would be so difficult.”

“But it doesn't have to be.”

“Colin, I'm going home soon. What could make that easy? I'm leaving my heart behind with her.”

She turned to look him in the eyes, staring back with an earnestness that cinched something in the confines of his chest. “She's yours now,” she said, shaking her head. “And I can't stay.”

“Why not? There's a solution to every problem. This is one.”

“I have responsibilities, Colin. I gave my word that I'd see this through, but only long enough for my horse to be settled. You don't know what you're asking.”

Colin stopped her from spinning away with a gentle touch of fingertips to her elbow.

“I know exactly what I'm asking. And this is no spur-of-the-moment impulse. You did well back there.” Colin spoke in his take-charge manner, though he looked down and rested his gaze on her much longer than he'd intended. “Just as I knew you would. And Owen's a man of few words, but he saw what I did. You should take it as a compliment that one of the best trainers in the world sees your great talent.”

“You think I have talent?”

“Yes. I do,” he whispered on a chuckle that was impossible to hide. “More than you know. And that's why yours is so rare. Even you don't know how good you are. You honestly don't think I'm going to let that go without a fight, do you? What self-respecting circus boss could live with himself after that?”

Rosamund looked like she'd been holding her breath until that instant. She searched his face, looking for an explanation that would make things easier.

“So you never wanted Ingénue?”

“Of course I did. I came to Easling Park to buy an Arabian. I never bargained on finding a performer—not hidden on a nobleman's country estate. You didn't know it, but you've been recruited from the first moment I saw you perform in Linton.”

“Then you brought me here under false pretenses.”

“You told me in so many words that you'd follow Ingénue anyway. I was just making sure you got here safely. And if you're worried about marrying to save your family's legacy, you don't have to be. You'll make enough money to send home if you'd like. You're
quite capable of making up your own mind, Rose. And I'm ready to make you an offer.”

“What offer?”

“I want to contract you for the Ringling Brothers' show.”

Rosamund nodded slowly. “You do.” Her look said she'd been expecting him to say that, but she couldn't possibly entertain the thought of staying.

“I just told you how good you are, Rose.” Colin sighed, staring out over the fall of dusk on the fields where the future lodgings would stand. “There's more to it than I can go into right now. But at present, May Wirth is our bareback riding act, and she's leaving the show after this season. We're looking for a new bareback riding duo. We need someone young. A fresh face with talent. Beauty. Brains. Fearlessness. All of those things you have with Ingénue, whether you know it or not, and the crowds will love you for it.”

The wind seemed to shift all around them, as if change was looming on the words he'd said.

Colin winced. He hadn't intended to include “beauty” in the list.

“How long is this contract?”

“One year,” he said, turning back to her, studying her face for a reaction.

She exhaled low. “A year?”

“To start, yes. But perform well, and you'll be offered more.”

Rosamund shook her head, trying to make sense of what he'd offered. “A year . . . I can't make a decision like this right now. It's too much to leave my home and commit to a year away in the same breath. May I have some time to think it over?”

Colin smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That's what I told Owen you'd say.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Rose Easling knows her own mind. But
she's also smart enough to decide what it is she wants, and when. So I'll wait. And in the meantime, you get to ride. All you want.”

He knew the thought of staying on for a few more weeks—or even months—just to ride Ingénue was something Rose couldn't pass up
.
Instead of languishing in a stuffy manor, breathing the fresh Florida air for a little while longer . . . The thought had to pump fresh blood into her veins.

“So Ingénue and I stay here, training with Owen?”

“That's right. You need to learn to ride in a ring.”

“And for how long?”

“Well, you said you wanted to spend Christmas with your aunt in New York, then go back to England in the spring. Why not give it time—make your decision by Christmas?”

It sounded reasonable enough.

Rosamund accepted with a smile. “By Christmas it is,” she said, and extended her hand to shake his.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, but hesitated, falling just short of accepting her open palm. If she'd consent to stay, it had to be for the right reasons.

“Satisfy me on one thing more, Rose, and we have a deal.”

“Of course. What?”

“You whispered something to Ingénue before you came back out here. What was it you said to her?”

Rosamund smiled, tipping her shoulders in a light shrug.

She leaned forward and shook hands with him, whispering, “Only what I'd want someone to say to me—I told her to have fun.”

1926

S
ARASOTA
, F
LORIDA

Evening was Rosamund's favorite time of day.

The sun would set over the bay, creating millions of tiny diamond flashes across the water. The pace of living would wind down. There'd be no more riding. No backbreaking training or worrying about tomorrow once the sun had set low in the sky.

It was her time to be still.

She sat on the dock in front of the Ringlings' yellow farmhouse-style cottage in which she'd been staying, hanging her legs over the side, swinging her bare feet in the breeze, watching fish make their intermittent jumps to pick off mayflies hovering over the water.

As soon as the training day was done, she'd come back to the cottage still wearing riding trousers and her white blouse with a wide sailor's collar. She wrapped her favorite plum, thick-weave sweater round her shoulders and went to her favorite evening spot by the water.

The telegram Rosamund had received that day she'd kept hidden from Owen's notice. She folded it gently and now held it between her palms.

The sounds of the day were all she heard, until an engine's
sputter turned her attention to the drive in front of the house. A Model T had come to a stop, and a gentleman hopped out and went up the cottage's front steps.

He wore gray trousers, a white shirt, and a jacket draped over one arm. Hat and tie, if he had such, had been abandoned along the way. The weight on Rosamund's shoulders lightened when she saw the trademark mop of dark hair, wind-tousled as it always seemed to be.

“Colin,” she shouted and waved, drawing his attention to the dock.

He turned from the porch and tossed his jacket through the open window of the car, then trotted in her direction.

A slow smile built on his face as he drew near. “Owen said you'd gone back to the cottage early today.”

She wrapped the sweater tighter around her middle and breathed deep. “Ingénue and I were both tired. So I came back and have been out here enjoying the view.”

Colin wrinkled his nose, whether from the sunlight bouncing back in his eyes or because he didn't fully believe her, she couldn't know. He nodded and sat down, hanging his legs over the edge of the dock alongside her.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay at the Ringling Hotel downtown? Or in one of their other properties? They have a bigger home on South Washington Drive.”

Rosamund shook her head. “I like it here. By the water. It's so nice that the Ringlings have allowed me to stay in the cottage. I don't mind that it's small at all. It's a change from what I'm used to, and I find that somehow it suits me.”

He looked out over the water. Listening. Nodding as she talked.

The setting sun edged his profile in soft light, and Rosamund tried not to think of how she'd missed him during the last couple of weeks.

She tore her eyes away, landing on polite conversation instead. “Did you have a good trip?”

“I think so. We managed to get a few things worked out for the show, so I'm glad about that. But the weather was about as good as can be expected for Connecticut in November.” He grinned through a mock shiver. “Bridgeport can be unforgiving at this time of year. And to be stuck in it for three weeks. I couldn't wait to get back here to you.”

Rosamund's gaze fluttered to his.

“Or to this—you know,” he added, rubbing a hand to his neck. He tilted his head to the bay. “I'm just sorry I had to leave you alone so soon after you got here. But at least it was here in Florida. It's really beautiful this time of year, isn't it?”

“I can't say that I know what it's like the rest of the year, but I think I'm ready to find out.”

Colin turned to her, his brow furrowed in question. The shadow of a hopeful smile seemed close by. “You've already made your decision then?”

Rosamund nodded. “I received a telegram today. From Easling Park.” She stared down into the depths of the water beneath their feet. “It was quite enough to help me make up my mind.”

“I see,” he offered, leaning in ever so slightly. “Not bad news, I hope.”

Rosamund handed him the telegram without looking up. She could hear the crease of the paper when he'd unfolded it, and the deep sigh when he'd obviously read what it said.

“He wasted no time, did he?” Colin slapped the paper against his leg. “Golly, I'm sorry.”

“It's for the best, but it would've been nice to have made the decision myself.”

Embarrassment prevented her from looking him in the eye. She chose the easier option of gazing out across the bay.

“But I think you did, Rose, when you got on the train at King's Cross. There was no going back after that first leap of faith. Remember that you chose to step on that train, and your life is your own from here on out.”

“I never thought I'd be jilted before I even made it to the altar. But I suppose it's too much to marry a woman who's run off to the circus. How would that work in an English drawing room? It sounds odd even when I say it aloud, and I'm the one living it.”

Colin squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun setting low in front of them.

“Well, forget the drawing rooms. And despicable former fiancés. You'll have men lining up to court you in every town on the map from now on. You sure you're ready for that?”

The quip made her smile, especially when she looked up and saw the twinkle in his eye.

Rosamund wasn't sure how, but they'd eased into a friendship without looking. Colin had become an unexpected source of stability and comfort. She could take teasing, even at a moment like this, if it came from him.

“You know, I did tell Bella you were innocent that day we boarded the train at King's Cross. But it wasn't meant to be an insult.”

She smiled, having known that already.

“I had a bit of Italian in my tutorials as a girl.” Rosamund rolled her eyes. “Enough to understand what she'd said and try not to take offense at it. It's still not the most flattering thing a girl can think to be called, though.”

“I know. And I'll do everything I can to ensure things go smoothly when you meet up with Bella and the rest of the performers. We'll ease you in. That's a promise, all right?”

“Okay,” she said, exhaling long and low. “So what now?”

“The show must go on. And we know you'll be a part of it.
Welcome to the family—” He smiled, then handed the telegram back to her. “Officially this time.”

Rosamund's fingers brushed against his, a light touch of skin that startled her. She fumbled the telegram, almost dropped it, then shoved it down into the pocket of her sweater.

“And to the newest member of the family, I come bearing gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“It's Christmas, isn't it?”

“Not for weeks it's not.” She shook her head, watching as he hopped up and jogged back to the car. From it he pulled two long poles and a can, a look of victory on his face.

He walked back in her direction with the gear. “Then we're celebrating early. All the way from Connecticut.”

Rosamund jumped to her feet, almost dancing at the thought of doing something as thrilling—and normal—as fishing on the bay. Never in a million years would her mother have allowed something so earthy and unrefined. She'd have been shocked out of her very fancy shoes to see her daughter standing on a dock now, barefoot, gloveless, and happy, exclaiming over the gift of a split cane rod and a can of wiggling worms.

“Ever fished before?” Colin asked.