An Inconceivable Deception

by Sydney Jane Baily

  At that moment, she wanted to skate alone and remember.

  “You can hold onto Franklin’s other arm,” Claire offered, which Rose found hilarious, seeing as how Claire was a crack skater, too, and neither of them needed to hold onto a man for support.

  Rose simply smiled and waved her thanks before skating off at breakneck pace around the oval. Soon, she was away from her entire party.

  Gliding down one end, she looked back to see where Reed’s children were — safely with Claire’s housekeeper, and then looked ahead again. A figure cut across her path. Rose gasped. Too late to stop or even turn, she slammed into the other skater who managed to catch hold of her as they went down.

  She landed on top of him, looking down to see the grinning face of William Woodsom.

  “You!” she exclaimed. “You oaf! You could have injured us both.”

  “Could have? How do you know that I’m not injured?” he asked, his head still resting on the polished wooden flooring.

  “It would serve you right,” Rose said, though she tried to soften her tone. “Are you?”

  “As it happens, no. Except my pride. I’m usually known as an excellent skater.”

  By this time, Claire and Franklin reached them.

  “Are you hurt?” Claire asked as Franklin offered his arm to Rose and pulled her to standing.

  When they were both upright again, William reached for her hand. “Since we have already fallen together, will you skate with me?”

  She wanted to pull her hand from his, but that seemed petty. Besides Claire was watching, with her eyes large and curious, and her good friend knew about the stolen kiss. Better to be casual and skate with William, and then leave him at the other end of the rink.

  “I suppose,” she demurred, and with a quick wink to Claire, Rose let William lead her away. They skated easily, well-matched, and Rose let the comfortable silence stretch on.

  After a moment, without looking at her, William said, “I wish you had let me dance with you at the Tremont.”

  She stiffened.

  “Why did you run away?” he persisted.

  “You were behaving outrageously.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind. I’ve heard you used to be a lively girl.”

  Rose gasped. Good God, did she have a reputation as someone whom a man could kiss at will? Yes, she had been lively though never immoral. Never that! Was she considered loose? Her mother would kill her. That was, if her mother would ever come out of the fog she’d been in for so long. What that woman was pondering for hours on end, Rose had no idea.

  She yanked her arm from William’s as they approached the opposite end of the rink.

  “You are as insulting now as you were boorish the other night.”

  “Please, Rose, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “No matter your intention, you did. Moreover, you will call me by my family name until I give you leave to do otherwise.” She exited by the closest gate before he could stop her. What a jackass! The kiss had been nice, true, but if he thought she was going to fall all over him or let him do it again, he was sadly mistaken.

  William blasted Woodsom! He could go to the devil.

  She ended up on the bench next to Robert Appleton. “Everything satisfactory?” he asked.

  “Yes, fine.” Quickly she unbuckled her skates from her shoes and made quick work of shoving the metal contraptions under the bench. “I’m going to get a beverage, maybe lemonade. Would you like anything?”

  He started to stand. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No!” she blurted out. “I mean, you’ve still got your skates on. I’ll be back soon enough.” With that, she hurried away. She seemed to be much in demand at present, though she doubted that Claire’s brother had anything in mind like William.

  She doubted he could kiss like him either.

  Rose! she scolded herself. What a thought! Good thing her improper notions stayed locked in her head.

  At the refreshment stand, she waited while the gentleman pressed some lemons. All at once, she realized it was Maeve Norcross at her elbow. What timing!

  “Maeve, how are you? I didn’t see you at the Tremont the other night. What a fabulous dress you’re wearing!” Goodness gracious, she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. “The color, like a lavender-blue, perfect for your hair and eyes.”

  Maeve smiled as warmly as ice water. “Nice to see you, too, Rose.” Her pretty violet eyes didn’t look happy however. “Did I see you skating with Mr. Woodsom? Are you two forming an attachment?”

  Goodness, there were at least 300 people there. Maeve must have eyes like a hawk to have spotted her and William. How quickly rumors could begin.

  “No, not at all,” Rose assured her. “Mr. Woodsom crashed into me. I’m here with the Appletons and my own niece and nephew.” She gestured to the rink where her friends were starting to come out of the gate. “Oh, and your cousin Franklin is with us, too.”

  “Well, in that case, I’ll warn you off from Woodsom, dear. That is, if you don’t mind my telling you something.”

  “Do tell,” Rose urged her. She wished she could say she was above enjoying gossip, but it was at least half the fun of her otherwise tame life.

  Maeve needed no further encouragement. “You may be fine in such a public place as this with him. However, I caution you — do not find yourself alone with him. In fact, I beseech you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Rose asked, hoping she wasn’t blushing at having already been alone with him. “Whatever can you mean?”

  Maeve gestured with her head that they should walk away from the listening ears of the lemonade server. Rose picked up her glass, and they walked toward a large window that looked out onto St. James Street.

  “I hate to speak out of turn, but since my great uncle was the mayor, I try to help my fellow citizens.”

  Rose nearly rolled her eyes and only managed to stop herself by widening them and not blinking. She was sure she looked like a barn owl. When the danger of any such rudeness had passed, she blinked and urged Maeve to speak.

  “Mr. Woodsom attempted to take liberties with my person. I had to firmly rebuff him. Of course, I told him then that any attachment between us was impossible. I, for one, will have a marriage license in hand before any man tastes my lips.”

  Rose couldn’t help her mouth dropping open slightly. Really? Did Maeve truly intend to marry — or at least become engaged to marry — before even kissing? What if the man kissed like an eager puppy, all sloppy and wet, or like parchment paper, dry and light, and Maeve found out such crucial information too late?

  William Woodsom kissed very well, though perhaps that was because he had practiced quite a bit on willing females, which was not particularly a good thing. Rose frowned. Especially if he wanted to practice on Maeve one day and on her the next.

  “I shall keep that in mind. Thank you for confiding in me.”

  Maeve made a moue of her mouth and tilted her head to the side. “We ladies must stick together when the likes of Mr. Woodsom are preying on us.” With a small wave, the brunette wandered back to order her own glass of lemonade.

  Rose frowned. Maeve’s story made her feel uncomfortable at best and taken advantage of at worst. What had occurred at the Tremont could have been far more serious if she hadn’t escaped William Woodsom when she had.

  Reed’s children ran up to her. “Will you buy us lemonade, too?” Thomas asked.

  “It’s not polite to ask,” Lily said. “You should let Aunt Rose offer first.” Her niece stared pointedly at her.

  Rose smiled. “Right you both are. I am offering, and I shall buy you each one. And return my glass for me, please, Thomas.” She reached into her reticule and gave them both a coin. “Come right back. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  The sooner, the better. She didn’t want to be caught again by William Woodsom, who seemed to stop at nothing, neither following her and ambushing her in a hotel hallway, nor knocking her off her feet at a public rink
.

  So it was with little surprise a few minutes later — though with equal parts exasperation and excitement — that Rose saw him approaching her once more, this time in his street shoes. Luckily, Claire, Franklin, and Robert reached her first.

  “Are you ready to depart?” Rose asked, watching nervously as William got closer. She grabbed Robert’s arm and held on.

  “All recovered?” she asked him sweetly.

  “Quite so,” he replied, looking startled by her attention.

  She tugged him toward the main exit. Luckily, Claire’s housekeeper gathered the children and in two broughams, they left. Rose couldn’t help but look back at the rink one more time. William Woodsom stood outside the door by a large maple, arms crossed, staring after her.

  She had a feeling he wasn’t finished with her yet.

  ***

  “You seem jumpy,” Claire observed as they sat in Rose’s mother’s front room, tying ribbons into bows for one of her mother’s suffragette events the following Saturday.

  “What makes you say that?”

  The door opened abruptly. Startled, Rose dropped her spool and half her bows on the floor. Yet it was only her brother entering with his young son, Emory, in tow.

  “That’s precisely what makes me say that,” Claire pointed out.

  Rose made a sour face at her friend. Truly, she was anticipating her next encounter with William, though she couldn’t decide if she felt dread or desire.

  “Hello, ladies,” Reed said, and young Emory ran up to Rose to throw his arms around her, standing on and squashing her scattered ribbons as he did so. She hugged him fiercely. If Finn hadn’t perished, perhaps she would have her own little one by now. She squeezed her nephew hard until he squirmed for release. Then she started to scoop up the blue satin, hoping her creations weren’t too crushed to hand out at the event.

  “Have you seen Mother?” Reed asked. “I have about ten minutes to discuss whatever it is she wants and then—”

  “Ten minutes!” Evelyn Malloy exclaimed entering the room behind her son, and Rose dropped the stack again. Claire giggled.

  “Is that really all the time you can spare your own flesh and blood?” Evelyn continued.

  Rose and Reed shared a glance of amusement, then he winked at her.

  “Will you ladies keep Emory,” Reed asked. “Mother and I will go into Father’s study.”

  They all still called it that, Father’s study, even though Oliver Malloy had been gone for nearly a decade.

  “Come, sit by me, Emory,” Rose said. “See that lovely box. You can help me put these carefully in it.” After all, he couldn’t possibly crumple her work anymore than she already had.

  The little boy did as he was told, and they went back to work. Rose didn’t mind the distraction of her nephew. She simply added his chubby fingers, his humming, and his giggling to the distractions already coursing through her busy brain ever since the encounter at the rink. She’d kept an eye out for William Woodsom, thinking she would see him popping out from behind a tree or whenever she opened her front door to step outside.

  She anticipated the notion, while fearing it at the same time.

  However, a week had passed and, surely, he had moved on to some other female. Another week later, she would be at the Bijou watching Iolanthe, with all of Boston’s young Brahmin in attendance, mingling before and after. Would William be there?

  In the meantime, there was another house party to attend though Rose didn’t know if he was a friend of the Lowells, or if he would attend in any case.

  Later, with Emory back safely in his father’s care and Claire on her way home, Rose headed to Mr. Mullett’s famously ornate post office with her mother’s correspondence tucked into her cotton carry-all.

  As she alighted from her carriage on Congress Street, there he was, William Woodsom, coming across the square from the direction of Milk Street.

  Rose felt a rush of something — excitement at seeing him perhaps, causing her heart to beat a speedy rat-a-tat in her chest — yet also, she couldn’t deny a tinge of sadness. If she felt anything for this man, did that mean she was finally over Finn?

  Did that mean she had to let her husband go?

  Her chest tightened with confusion. If Finn had taught her one thing, it was that she was worthy of a man’s undivided love. He’d said that she had captured his heart and soul with his first glance and her first words. She simply would not take an interest in a man who split his attention amongst more than one woman.

  “Good day, Miss Malloy,” William said, as he approached.

  “And to you, Mr. Woodsom,” she returned.

  “I feared you had moved to the hinterland since I had not seen you in so many days.”

  She raised an eyebrow at his slick banter. “The hinterland? Is that German?”

  “Yes, Miss Malloy, I believe so. A more gentile way of saying the backwoods, don’t you agree? In all seriousness,” he added, “where have you been hiding?”

  “Hiding, indeed!” she scoffed. “I assure you that I have not been hiding, but merely going about my daily business. That we meet at all in a city this size is a wonder in itself.”

  He smiled. “There’s a party in two nights at the Lowell’s. Will you be there?”

  She was sure his abrupt question was meant to catch her off guard.

  “I couldn’t say.” She feigned disinterest. “Why?”

  He blurted out with laughter, and she felt her cheeks infuse with warmth at her own coyness.

  “Because I want more than anything to finally dance with you.”

  She blushed further, realizing that she would like to dance with him as well. But what about Maeve’s words of caution?

  “Is that so?” she asked.

  “It is. Perhaps we could even arrive in the same group,” he said.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t possibly invite him into her circle when she knew that she would be going with Claire and Robert, and that Claire had invited Maeve along in order to make it utterly acceptable to invite Maeve’s cousin Franklin as well.

  “Impossible,” Rose told him. “However, perhaps I shall see you there,” she added though she offered him no other encouragement, despite wanting to do so. That realization was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. She tamped it down. Finn was long dead, and she did not dishonor her memory of him by feeling a little happiness at the idea of dancing with another man.

  Chapter Four

  When the night of the party arrived, Rose dressed to dazzle — the first time she could recall worrying about her appearance in a very long time. She strode up and down her front hall impatiently, waiting for her little group to pick her up, and she couldn’t deny the anticipatory excitement fluttering inside her. How unexpected!

  When she entered the Lowell’s spacious foyer, she noted that Reed and Charlotte were already speaking with William Woodsom. Coincidence? Or had he sought out her family?

  Approaching at her brother’s beckoning, she let Charlotte enfold her warmly in an embrace.

  “So glad to see you,” her sister-in-law said.

  “And you,” she answered. “Having a break from all the little ones?” Rose teased.

  Her brother and his wife had four at present, two of their own and two adopted, and who knew if more were on the way.

  Charlotte beamed. “You know I adore them all, the way a hummingbird adores nectar, but it’s nice to be out with only adults.” She let Reed take her hand and pull her to his side. It was apparent the only adults they were truly interested in were one another.

  Rose watched with something akin to awe as her brother and his wife gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, Charlotte’s hand still clasped in Reed’s, as if no one else in the world existed. They were so in love that Rose found it difficult not to bask in their affection when she was around them. In her heart, she knew she and Finn would have had a similar relationship.

  Of course, it was only a guess, and a nostalgic, sentimental, futile
one at that. Yet her immediate attraction to Finn and her subsequent lingering affection made her believe it was true.

  “Do you know Mr. Woodsom?” Reed asked, bringing her out of her reverie.

  Rose focused her gaze on William’s handsome face.

  He gave her a brief smile, his eyes questioning, even cautious.

  “Yes, we’re acquainted. However, I didn’t know you knew each other.” Her glance went back to her brother.

  “Mr. Woodsom’s father was a client of mine,” Reed explained. “As long as you two are already acquainted, I’m not remiss in leaving you to talk. I’m going to dance with my lovely wife.”

  They strolled off toward the Lowell’s well-lit ballroom where a waltz had given way to a lively two-step with Sousa’s music emitting joyfully from a small group of musicians.

  “Shall we dance, too?” William asked.

  She took a step backward.

  “I’m quite safe,” he added. “I won’t bite.”

  “I know that,” she said snappily. “It’s just that I only arrived a minute ago.”

  “And that precludes you from dancing? Or only precludes you from dancing with me?” He crossed his arms. “Are you looking around for someone better to your liking? Here, let me see your card, and I’ll point you in the direction of the best dancers.”

  She knew he was speaking in jest as the Lowells had forsaken the use of dance cards at their parties, letting people organize themselves more haphazardly or keep the same partner all evening long if they wished. It made for slightly more chaotic dancing but often a more relaxed evening.

  In any case, Rose was looking for Claire but spied her already dancing with Franklin.

  She sighed. As long as she wasn’t alone with William and giving him leave to make advances, what was the harm?

  “Fine. Let us dance,” she said quickly and not very graciously. “It seems that’s been on your mind for weeks.”

  He chuckled as he took her proffered hand. “Why wouldn’t I want to have a lovely lady in my arms?”