by Joanna Shupe
Years ago Mama had angled to meet Stephen Webster, already a wealthy man at twenty-five, in Detroit. The two had fallen in love, and Daddy had given Mama a leg up from her middle-class upbringing. It was a story Maddie had heard many times over. “And I will, should Lockwood ever propose.”
“He will—though I do hope your tennis obsession is not giving him pause. Women participating in sports and sweating in public.” She made a face. “Furthermore, I don’t care for all those men hanging around the matches, trying to talk to you afterwards. It is unseemly, Madeline.”
This was an old battle, one Maddie had no intention of caving on. She loved tennis and she was good at it. Why would she ever stop playing? “Then you shouldn’t have allowed me to take lessons all those years ago.”
Mama sniffed. “Your father allowed it—over my objections, I might add.”
Daddy had always been a softer touch than her mother. They both looked at Maddie’s father where he stood across the room, holding a glass of amber-colored liquid and talking to Kit. A boisterous sportsman, Daddy had inspired her love of all things outdoors. While at the chateau, he would play golf or tennis in the morning, then sail every afternoon. Her grandfather had made a fortune in steel and iron at the end of the war, and Daddy liked to brag that most every train in the nation ran on Webster rails.
“Come along,” her mother said. “Let’s help Harrison mingle. He is letting that Hartwell girl monopolize his time almost as badly as you did.”
The household had long settled for the night, yet Harrison couldn’t sleep, his mind wide awake. So he’d donned a dressing gown and found his way onto the terrace overlooking the ocean. A three-quarter moon had transformed the back lawn into a deep glowing green, and waves churned onto the rocks below in a steady rhythm.
Today had been promising. He hadn’t expected results this quickly, but her jealousy had both surprised and delighted him. He had to continue his campaign tomorrow, making sure to remind her of their shared history and interests. Perhaps pay her a compliment or two. He would flirt and make her laugh, turn on the charm when necessary. By the third day he might kiss her in a very non-brotherly way.
Leaning against the stone balustrade, he lit a cigar, turning it in the flame first to warm the leaves. He pulled smoke into his mouth, enjoying the rich, sweet taste before exhaling into the air. Standing in this particular spot, smoking, reminded him of the last time he’d been here, the night when everything changed . . .
“Come with me.”
Harrison glanced over at the voice and found his friend Preston at his elbow. “Why?”
Preston gestured to the Webster dance floor, where nearly all of society had gathered for this Newport ball. “Because, my friend, you are standing here gawking at her and it is approaching pathetic. Besides, I have cigarettes. Let’s go out for a quick smoke.”
Harrison took one more peek at Maddie. Stunningly turned out in an ivory ball gown, she was laughing at something her dance partner said. Every song had her dancing with someone else, which didn’t surprise him considering she was one of the most sought-after debutantes that year.
No one knew, however, that she already belonged to Harrison.
He’d loved her since he was fifteen, yet it hadn’t felt right to confess his feelings before she debuted, so he’d waited until they were here, back at the beach, to finally tell her. He had no idea whether she returned his affection . . . but they had grown up together. Were best friends. The first person each of them sought out in a crowd. Each other’s keeper of secrets, the provider of unwavering support.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Girls usually married at the end of their first season, sometimes second. There was no time to lose. He intended to get her alone after dinner, tell her how he felt and hopefully make plans for their future.
Nerves twisted in his belly, his throat drying out. Perhaps a small distraction in the form of a trip outside would relax him. “Fine,” he told Preston. “But not too long.”
The two of them dodged the crowd until they reached the terrace, which ran the entire back side of the chateau, similar to an Italian palazzo. Preston kept going, however, striding toward one of the sets of stone stairs that led down onto the lawn.
“Where are you going?” Harrison called to his friend’s back.
“Out of sight. Kit and I have a bet to see who can go the longest without smoking. I don’t want to lose.”
“So you will cheat instead.”
“Yes, without remorse.”
Harrison chuckled under his breath. Preston was ruthless when the mood struck him. The two of them ended up in an alcove below the terrace. The moon, combined with the house lights, provided enough illumination for them to see. Preston flicked open a silver case, removed two cigarettes, then pocketed the case. After lighting them both, he handed one to Harrison. “Here.”
He accepted the lit cigarette and brought it to his mouth. His lungs burned as the smoke entered, then his mind calmed, relaxed, and he leaned back against the stone as he exhaled. He didn’t often smoke, but had enjoyed the occasional cigarette or cigar since attending college. Always with Preston, who was both a terrible influence and a great friend. “What is the bet for?”
“The one with Kit?” At Harrison’s nod, Preston blew out a mouthful of smoke and said, “Fifty dollars.”
“You can afford it.”
“I know but I hate to lose. It’s the principle of it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Says the man who’s pined after the same woman for four years.”
More like six, but Harrison didn’t correct his friend. “Pining no longer, I hope, after tonight.”
Preston’s eyes grew round. “Tonight is the night? Are you serious?”
“Yes. I am telling her as soon as I can get her alone.”
“About goddamn time. We’re starting our senior year. You can finally live a little.”
Harrison didn’t need saloons and women. He only needed Maddie. “I plan to.”
“Are you going to tell her how you feel straight off?”
“Not at first. I’ll start by saying I plan to court her and then see how that goes.”
“I’d wish you luck but I don’t think you need it. I’ve never seen two people so perfect for one another.”
Before Harrison could comment, noise drifted down from the terrace. That was the thing about Newport: private conversations were near impossible. Whether because of the water or the wind, sound carried for miles here.
He and Preston remained quiet, each puffing off a cigarette while they waited and listened.
Different high-pitched giggles, then the shuffle of slippers on stone . . .
A group of young girls, if Harrison had to guess. This was confirmed a second later when they began speaking.
“. . . is really a terrible dancer. He stepped on my toes twice.”
Maddie.
Harrison froze, his gaze catching with Preston’s. His friend immediately understood, nodding once.
What was she doing out here? He thrust the half-finished cigarette into the planter filled with sand, intent on going up there. Preston put a hand on his arm and shook his head. Wait, his friend mouthed.
Harrison wasn’t keen on eavesdropping, but perhaps Maddie didn’t need him interfering.
“At least he asked you to dance. I cannot get him to notice me.” Another girl, a voice Harrison didn’t recognize.
“Don’t feel bad,” a third and higher voice said. “Everyone notices Maddie.”
“That is hardly true,” Maddie said, humble as always.
“Of course it is,” another girl said. “I wish I knew your secret.”
Harrison smothered a snort. There was no secret or trick to Maddie’s appeal. It was part of her, like her wide smile and sparkling eyes, or her boisterous laugh and generous wit. No other girl came close.
“Me too,” the highest voice said. “I certainly wish Harrison Archer paid me as much attention as he does you
, Maddie.”
“Mr. Archer? Oh, we’ve been friends forever.”
“Well, you know the old adage about friendships between men and women,” the other girl said.
“What adage is that?”
“I cannot remember exactly, but something like it’s impossible to remain strictly friends because one side or the other always wishes it was more.”
“That is absurd,” Maddie snapped. “I harbor absolutely no feelings for him whatsoever. He’s like a brother to me.”
Harrison frowned into the darkness. A brother? She thought of him as a brother . . .
The friend continued. “Come now, Maddie. All those years you’ve been friends and it’s never been romantic? Not once?”
“Never. I cannot think of any man I am less attracted to, honestly.”
Less. Attracted. To.
Harrison swayed on his feet and if not for Preston’s steadying hand on his shoulder, he might have toppled over. He couldn’t breathe, his body frozen in one spot, the pain ripping through his chest like it was splitting apart. Black dots swirled in his vision, his brain tripping, spinning, careening over this information, unable to take it in.
She didn’t want him, not as a husband. All these years he’d thought to give her time, tried not to rush her, and it turned out he’d been kidding himself. Deluding himself with ideas of them together, married with a family, traveling between the city and Newport.
He bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, and struggled for breath.
“Do you mean it?” the girl asked. “I think he’s handsome.”
“Of course I mean it,” Maddie answered. “To prove it, let’s go inside and I’ll introduce you to him. Then he’ll ask you to dance.”
“Oh, would you, Maddie? I’d be forever in your debt.”
“No need for that. Seeing two of my friends fall in love would be gratitude enough. Come along. I think I saw him heading toward the card room about an hour ago.”
Harrison straightened and stared out at the lawn, unseeing. He hadn’t visited the card room tonight. Clearly, she hadn’t watched him as carefully as he’d watched her.
And why would she? Maddie didn’t want him, not like that. She was trying to introduce him to her friends, for God’s sake. Pawn him off onto some other woman for the rest of his life.
He closed his eyes and tried not to break down and howl like a wounded animal. Fuck, why did this hurt so badly?
“They’re gone,” Preston said, his voice grave. “And I’m sorry, Harrison.”
Harrison’s mouth opened but no sound came out. What could he possibly say? He was empty. Utterly empty. There was nothing left inside him.
“Come. I’ll walk with you back to your cottage.”
Harrison’s feet refused to move, his heart rebelling. No. Not Newport. He could not stay here one moment longer. Not here, where he’d chased and played with her. Spent so many days and nights surrounded by Maddie. He had to get away. “New York,” he croaked. “I need to leave for New York.”
“The trains aren’t running until morning—” Preston broke off, presumably at something he saw in Harrison’s expression. “I’ll make a call,” Preston said, putting his palms out. “Let’s get you out of here first.”
That night had changed the course of Harrison’s life.
Arriving in New York, discovering his father, the terrible row . . . then he’d been disinherited. Hours later he’d left for Paris, ready to drown himself in the renowned debauchery of the city. It had all happened quickly.
He’d tried hard to forget her, and it had seemed to work for a bit. But there were always reminders and memories haunting him. Now he could see it was because they were destined for each other.
Three years ago he’d run away, instead of pressing his case and trying to woo her. He would not repeat that mistake.
A figure emerged in the darkness, catching his attention. Someone was coming up the path from the beach, alone. Definitely a woman. Harrison puffed on the cigar and watched as she picked her way toward the house. Her feet were bare and the hem of her skirts was damp. She was singing to herself, her head swaying in the moonlight. She was too short to be Maddie, so who was it? Had one of the ladies gone for a midnight swim?
Another few feet and he saw it was Nancy—no, Nellie Young. The daughter of Cornelius Young, the well-known financier. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head, a towel slung over her arm.
Though he wasn’t properly dressed, he made no effort to hide or look away. He spoke when she climbed the steps. “Miss Young. You are certainly out late.”
“Mr. Archer. Hello.” She drew closer, unabashed about being caught. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No. You?”
“I met a friend for a swim.”
A midnight assignation? He couldn’t help but grin. “I see. How was the water?”
“Frigid.”
“Everyone knows you can’t get in before July.”
She leaned on the balustrade and matched his posture. “Now, where is the fun in doing what everyone says?”
“A fellow rebel, I see. With your friend nearby, may I assume you are not here in the hopes of marrying me?”
“You assume correctly. May I?” She gestured to his cigar, so he handed it over. She took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out slowly before passing it back. “Cuban. Nice. Besides, you aren’t interested in marrying any of us.”
He stared at the expanse of dark lawn and willed his voice steady. “I’m not?”
“Of course not.”
“The purpose of the party is no secret. So enlighten me as to how you are certain I don’t wish to marry any of you, Miss Young.”
“Nellie, please. May I call you Harrison?”
“I think we are beyond formality at this point.” He gestured toward his dressing gown. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
“You don’t want to marry any of us because you are clearly in love with Maddie.”
The cigar fell out of his hand and dropped onto the stone terrace. He bent to pick it up, buying himself a few seconds of time to compose a response. “That’s absurd,” he said when he recovered. “We are friends.”
“I have plenty of male friends, and I don’t stare at them the way you and Maddie do when you think the other is not watching.”
Maddie stared at him? Interesting. His mood lifted significantly. “Are you always this forthright?”
“Women who play by the rules do not get far in this life.”
“A progressive, I see.”
“I don’t consider it an insult, if you’re wondering. A progressive woman merely wishes to improve the lot for all women.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I prefer bold women who know what they want.”
“Yes, that much is obvious.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Nellie smirked up at him. “Harrison, if you truly want one of these women to marry you, then you need to work a bit harder to conceal, you know . . . the other thing.”
His feelings for Maddie. “I will try. Thank you, Nellie.”
“Oh. Excuse me.”
He turned at the familiar female voice and his pulse doubled, tripled, as blood rushed through his veins.
Maddie had stepped onto the terrace, also wrapped in a thin dressing gown. Her gaze bounced between Harrison and Nellie. “Am I interrupting?”
Chapter Six
Harrison’s tongue grew thick as his eyes focused on the curve of Maddie’s bare ankles, now peeking out from below the hem of her dressing gown. She was absolutely gorgeous, every part of her.
Nellie broke the silence. “Don’t be silly, Maddie. I must get changed, anyway. I’m freezing.” She started for the house. “My thanks for the smoke, Harrison. Good night to you both.”
Then they were alone—truly alone—for the first time since he’d returned from Paris.
Maddie drifted closer, the heavy silk swirling about her legs, and he tried not to think about how littl
e they each wore at the moment. Rays of moonlight played off the angles of her cheeks and highlighted her delicate nose and full lips. He’d studied every inch of her face over the years, mapped her every expression and catalogued each of her smiles. She was stunning, like a burst of sunlight on the cold darkness blanketing his soul.
She leaned a hip against the balustrade. “That seemed cozy. Sharing a smoke? And she called you Harrison. Have we found Mrs. Harrison Archer?”
He cleared his throat and tried to match her relaxed posture. “She met a man on the beach for a midnight swim. It’s safe to say she’s spoken for.”
“Oh, I sense that’s nothing serious. Furthermore, I think the two of you are well matched.”
“She’s good fun, I suppose, but I’d be gray before the age of thirty if I married that woman. She’ll lead a husband to an early grave.”
“Does that mean she has been eliminated?”
“Yes, on mutual agreement.”
“That’s progress, I suppose.” They stood in silence. “What do you think of the other ladies thus far?”
That they pale in comparison to you.
Instead of the truth, he hedged. “Too soon to tell, really. They all seem nice enough.”
“But you think Nellie is fun.”
“Not as fun as you, of course. There was a reason why you were the most popular girl in Newport growing up.”
“That’s hardly true, but very sweet of you to say.”
“We’re all quite proud of you, you know.”
“Who, and whatever for?”
“Me, Kit, Preston. You’ve poured your heart and soul into your tennis pursuits. Kit used to send me your clippings.” Even though Harrison had repeatedly told Kit to stop.
“I had no idea.”
“He never told you?”
“No,” she said. “They never mentioned you at all.”
Well, that stung. “Probably for the best. I’m not a rising tennis celebrity, after all.”
“Not for a lack of skill. You always had a wicked backhand.” She pointed to his hand. “May I try your cigar?”
