Focus on the wedding details before you look for a mystery, Amory, I told myself. There would be plenty of time for that later.
2
WE WERE SHOWN to our rooms a short time later. Milo and I had adjoining bedrooms connected by a bathroom. Though Milo would no doubt be sleeping in my bed, the extra room meant extra wardrobe space, which was nice considering our mutually extensive luggage.
We went into my room together. Everything was beautifully decorated and spoke of wealth and taste, from the pale blue wallpaper and white satin bedspread, to the sleek, modern lines of the furniture, upholstered in gray-striped silk, arranged before the fireplace.
I put aside my hat and gloves, sitting on the bed with a relieved sigh. “I do believe this trip might prove rather exhausting,” I said.
Milo glanced at me as he made his way to the window and pulled back the curtain. Over his shoulder I saw that this side of the house faced out onto a little park. “You do look a bit pale,” he said. “Perhaps you should lie down for a while.”
“Oh, I’m not really tired,” I said. “I only meant that this whole affair is likely to prove less than restful. Tabitha is a bit of a whirlwind.” I meant this fondly. It was good to see her again. I was glad that she appeared to have been happy in her life here in New York, and I was very much looking forward to helping her prepare for her wedding in whatever way I could.
I did wonder if there had been something behind her careful words in the drawing room. One can’t always put what one wants to say in a letter. It seemed clear that there was something she wanted to discuss with me. Was there, despite her claims of perfect bliss, something wrong between her and her fiancé? I supposed she would confide in me when she saw fit.
“She does seem a very lively woman,” Milo said. “I am curious to meet the groom.”
“So am I,” I admitted. I wondered what sort of man Tabitha would have chosen. I suspected her reckless nature would have made men of action appealing, but a calming influence might have been the best thing for her. I supposed we would see for ourselves what the gentleman was like soon enough.
Tabitha had invited the other members of the wedding party to dinner, so we would be able to meet them all this evening. Despite my travel weariness, I was looking forward to it.
As my thoughts drifted to what I might want to wear to dinner, there was a tap on the door.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened, and Winnelda looked into the room. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ve unpacked all your things while you were having tea. Will there be anything else, madam?”
“I’ll need you to press my dress for dinner. There’s no need to rush, though. I am trying to decide what I shall wear.”
“The pale blue silk, I should think,” she said with authority. “You look good in most colors, but best in blue.”
“Very well. You’ve convinced me.”
“And I think a bit of rouge might be in order,” she added, studying my face.
“If you say so, Winnelda. Have you settled in?”
“Yes, they’ve given me a very nice room. It’s a lovely house, isn’t it, madam?”
“Very lovely, indeed.”
“It’s not like I expected. I thought it might be a flat overlooking all the tall buildings. I do like this house, though. And these American maids are different than I thought they would be.”
“Oh? In what way?”
She considered this. “I’m not sure exactly. Very friendly, though. Parks isn’t going to be happy, of course.”
My brows rose. “Why not?”
Winnelda shook her head sadly. “He said he can already see that there is entirely too much informality about the place.”
This was not surprising. Milo’s valet was an incorrigible snob.
“I suppose he will have to make allowances,” Milo said.
She looked sad at the thought. We all knew how Parks felt about making allowances.
“Mrs. Ames is going to lie down, Winnelda,” Milo said. “Perhaps you might come back later to press her dress.”
“Certainly, sir. Parks has told me to be especially careful with my duties. ‘We must not set aside our rigid standards, no matter what poor examples we are met with,’” she said in a pitch-perfect imitation of his disapproving tones.
She went out at that and closed the door behind her, and I gave a laughing sigh and fell backward on the bed.
* * *
WE MET IN the drawing room before dinner. I wore my pale blue silk dress and Winnelda had skillfully applied the rouge to my cheeks, so I felt quite presentable.
When we came downstairs, only Tabitha and her father were present. Benjamin Alden rose at once to greet us. He was much as I remembered him, tall and broad shouldered with thick orange hair, now flecked with silver, and a well-trimmed beard. He was a gregarious gentleman with sparkling blue eyes, a shade darker than Tabitha’s, a ready smile, and the sort of crushing handshake that almost made one believe a hug would be preferable.
“It’s good to see you again, Amory,” he said when initial greetings were done and an introduction to Milo had been made. “You’re looking more beautiful than ever.”
“Thank you. I’m so pleased to be able to be here for Tabitha’s wedding.”
“Yes, we’re all looking forward to it, though we’ll certainly miss having her around the house. I’ve given them an apartment for a wedding gift, closer to the hustle and bustle young people enjoy, but I expect they’ll visit me often enough. We’re all very chummy. It helps when a father approves of his son-in-law. Tom’s a good fellow, and I’m confident he’ll make her happy.”
“I’m very happy for Tabitha,” I said, hoping Mr. Alden was right. He had always seemed to me to be an excellent judge of character. I was confident that, if he approved his daughter’s choice of husband, the young man must be worthy of her. I took note, too, of the extravagant wedding gift, another sign of Mr. Alden’s improved fortunes.
“How’s the old neighborhood?” he asked, switching topics. “I keep meaning to come back to England for a visit, but there’s always some matter of business to be tended to here.”
“It’s been a while since I visited my parents, but I imagine things are much the same. They seldom change in that part of the country,” I said with a smile.
“True, true. Things seem to move more slowly in the country. I do miss it, though. It was a wonderful time in my life.” He looked wistful for a moment and then shook off whatever nostalgic reverie had lodged in his mind. “And your parents are well?”
“They’re very well, thank you.”
“I do hope you’ll send them my regards,” he said warmly and then, abruptly, he turned to Milo and launched into a conversation about automobiles, pleased to find an appreciative admirer of his Duesenberg. The two of them were likely to get on well.
Tabitha pulled me aside, her face bright with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait for you to meet Tom. I just know you’re going to love him. He’s so handsome and funny, and smart, too. The fact that he’s going to help Dad with his business is just icing on the cake.”
“I’m so glad for you, Tabitha,” I said. “I look forward to meeting him.”
I was glad that my earlier suspicions had been allayed. No matter how quickly their engagement had come about, it was very clear that she was not marrying him for her father’s benefit; her face lit up when she spoke about him.
“Tell me about the other members of the wedding party,” I said.
“It’s going to be something of a small wedding party, all things considered. Just you and my good friend Jemma Petrie as bridesmaids. Tom only has two close friends in New York, so I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by choosing too many bridesmaids.”
“I’m honored that you included me.”
“Oh, you’re one of my dearest friends, Amory. Even though we rarely see each other, your letters have always felt so warm and real. I feel closer to you than to a lot of my friends who l
ive nearby. Oh, look. Here’s Jemma now. Come and meet her.”
She led me to her friend, who had just come into the drawing room, and introduced her as Miss Jemma Petrie. She was a tall, pretty girl with a head of dark curls and eyes so light brown they looked almost golden. Like Tabitha, she was possessed of an appealing boldness that made me feel instantly as though we were old acquaintances.
“Tabitha has talked of nothing but your visit,” she told me. “I’ve been very excited to meet you.”
“We’re all going to be great friends,” Tabitha said excitedly. “I’ve made plans for our dress fittings tomorrow, and we ought to have lunch together one day so we can discuss things properly. I know the men aren’t going to want to hear talk of the wedding over dinner. Dad and Tom have listened to me talk about it endlessly, though I think both of them are just ready for the day to come and go.”
Jemma smiled. “Don’t pay any attention to them, Tab. You only get married once, after all. If you’re lucky.”
“Oh, yes,” Tabitha said with a laugh. “Tom will be my one and only.”
“Did I hear my name?” came a voice from the doorway. I turned to see a gentleman standing there. This must be the groom.
He was tall and handsome, with boyish features, neatly parted dark blond hair, and warm brown eyes. His smile seemed one of true happiness, as though there was no other room he would rather be walking into. I felt that there was something very—for lack of a better term—wholesome about him, and I liked him at once. I could see why Tabitha had been smitten.
Tabitha hurried to the door and took the man’s hand, dragging him across the room. He followed her good-naturedly until they stopped in front of me.
“This is my dear friend Amory Ames,” Tabitha said. “Isn’t she lovely? Amory, this is my darling fiancé, Mr. Thomas Smith.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ames,” he said, shaking my hand warmly. “Tabitha has told me all about you.”
“I was honored to be asked to take part in your wedding, Mr. Smith.”
“Call me Tom, will you?”
“If you’ll call me Amory.”
“I think the wedding is going to be swell, Amory,” he said. “A big event. Though I’d marry Tabitha tomorrow at City Hall if she’d let me.”
She laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. Wedding planning is much more daunting than I thought it would be.”
For just a moment, as she said the words, some unnamed emotion flickered in her eyes. It was too brief for me to interpret it, but I felt again that she was suppressing something beneath her exuberant happiness.
The impression was fleeting, however, for her eyes suddenly brightened.
“Oh, look,” she said. “Here’s Rudy.”
Another gentleman had just come into the room.
“Good evening, everyone,” he said.
Tabitha motioned him over to our little gathering and made introductions as he arrived at her side. “Amory, this is Mr. Rudolph Elliot. Rudy, this is Amory Ames.”
He was a young man with thinning reddish-blond hair and sparkling green eyes. He reached out and shook my hand in his large, warm one. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ames.”
“And I you, Mr. Elliot.”
“Oh, call me Rudy. Everyone does. I’ve been looking forward to dinner, Tab,” he said, turning to Tabitha. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m half starved.”
“Well, let’s go into the dining room, then. I think everyone’s here,” Tabitha said, glancing around the room. Then her expression darkened. “Everyone except for Grant, that is.”
“We needn’t wait for him,” Mr. Smith said quickly. I glanced at him. There was a certain uneasiness in his tone. Was it to do with the missing groomsman or with Tabitha’s reaction to his tardiness?
“No, certainly not,” Tabitha answered emphatically. “Let’s go, shall we?”
As they led the way from the drawing room, I was curious about this errant groomsman. There had been some sort of unspoken tension between Tabitha and her young man at the mention of this Grant, whoever he was.
We were ushered into the dining room. It was a comfortable, brightly lit room, the long table laid with white linen and floral-printed china. The walls were papered in a lovely pale green-and-gold-diamond pattern, and a mahogany sideboard inlaid with mother-of-pearl sat along one wall. Everything was stylish, modern, and clearly expensive.
We sat down to dinner, and I found myself with Rudy Elliot on my right, the chair to my left remaining vacant.
Conversation was light and amusing as we began the first course. The group seemed to share the easy camaraderie of close friends. As I listened to the friendly and sometimes boisterous American chatter, I felt some of my unease melt away. Even my appetite had returned, and I ate with relish.
“This salad dressing is delicious,” I commented as I took another bite of my salad.
Tabitha gave me a look from across the table. “Don’t get Rudy started, Amory.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She smiled. “It’s Samson’s Salad Dressing. Rudy tends to brag about it endlessly.”
I looked at Mr. Elliot, who was smiling at Tabitha’s teasing. “Are you involved with the company?”
“In a manner of speaking. I work in advertisement,” Mr. Elliot said.
“Oh, newspaper?”
“No, radio. That’s the way things are going these days. It’s a modern world we’re living in, Mrs. Ames.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“I’ve done some newspaper and magazine work in the past, but radio is really a fascinating challenge. You have to create your pictures with words.” To Tabitha’s chagrin, Mr. Elliot launched into a description of his work creating advertisements for Samson’s Salad Dressing during a popular radio show.
“You make it all sound so lively and interesting,” I told him.
“If you’d ever like to stop by my office one day, I could show you a bit of how things work in the advertising field.”
“I’d like that,” I told him sincerely.
His enthusiastic anecdotes were interrupted not long after the salad plates had been cleared away.
“Late again. Will I never learn?” The voice came from the doorway as a young man in a black suit came into the room. He was tall and dark, with a handsome face that was marred in its symmetry only by a slightly crooked nose that looked as though it had once been broken.
This was no doubt the tardy groomsman. I looked at Tabitha. She made no effort to hide her annoyance. I glanced next at Tom Smith, wondering if he, too, was irritated by his friend’s late arrival, but his expression gave nothing away. Indeed, he seemed determinedly focused on the plate in front of him, looking neither at Tabitha nor at the newly arrived guest.
“Won’t you sit down, Grant?” Tabitha said coolly. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the first course.”
“Thank you, Tabitha,” he said with mock gravity. “I suppose I can live without the lettuce.”
He dropped into the vacant seat beside me as conversation at the table resumed, and I couldn’t help but catch the strong smell of alcohol about him. Whatever the country’s laws on intoxicating beverages, it seemed that he had been in close proximity to them already this evening.
When he turned to me, however, his gaze was steady. “Grant Palmer,” he said, extending his hand.
I shook it. “Amory Ames.”
“Tabitha’s English friend,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You’re just as she described you. I’m surprised.”
“How so?” I asked.
“It was a glowing description. I thought she must be exaggerating.”
I gave him a small smile at this bit of flattery. “I’m afraid she didn’t tell me much about you.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much good to tell.” Somehow I thought this was probably the truth. He seemed like the type of young man who did what he pleased, caring not at all what others thou
ght of him.
He helped himself to a large serving of the roast beef, then turned his attention back to me. “When did you arrive?”
“Only this afternoon.”
“Your first time in New York?”
“No, I’ve been here before.”
“I suppose it’s nothing like London.”
“They’re similar in some ways,” I said.
“I’ve always wanted to travel. I mean to do it someday. I think that’s the best way a person can learn, seeing the world for themselves. I was never much of one for books, but if I see things I don’t forget them.”
“Are you from New York, Mr. Palmer?”
“Yes. Lived here all my life, though I didn’t always move in these kinds of circles.”
“Don’t monopolize her, Grant,” Rudy Elliot said from the other side of me.
“I do apologize, Mr. Elliot,” I said, turning to him with a smile. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”
“Oh, I’m used to it. But I have to say that it isn’t fair that he comes in here with his good looks and nefarious reputation,” Rudy said with a laugh. “Two things the ladies can’t resist.”
“I’m sorry, Rudy,” Mr. Palmer said. “But if you want the lady’s attention, you’ll have to do a better job of making yourself interesting. No doubt you’ve been boring her with your advertising stories.”
Rudy Elliot took this jab with a smile, but I wondered if he’d found it as amusing as he pretended.
I glanced across the table at Milo. He was talking to Jemma Petrie, but he glanced at me and I could see that he was taking in the situation.
My gaze moved to Miss Petrie, and it was immediately apparent to me that she was making a concerted effort not to look in Mr. Palmer’s direction. I suddenly had the distinct impression that there was something between them, or that there were some kind of suppressed feelings on Miss Petrie’s part. She wanted him to observe her talking to Milo as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
“Tom and I hope to go out dancing tomorrow night,” Tabitha said. “We have so many places we want to show you, Amory and Milo. If you’re feeling rested, perhaps we might all go to a nightclub.”
A Dangerous Engagement Page 2
