Heiress

by Susan May Warren

  Especially her thoughts. It didn’t help that the sultry night captured the fragrance of the salty sea, the aroma of the freshly manicured grass, stirring romance. Not to mention that Bennett wore a Parisian male fragrance that she found particularly distracting. Annoying, even.

  “I’m thinking that I find this particular Shakespearean production frivolous. Imagine having a potion that makes a man fall in love with you. It’s ridiculous. Poor Helena. No wonder she felt as if the men were mocking her when they professed their love. It was just a game.”

  “At least she and Hermia married the men they loved.”

  “But did the men truly love them back?”

  “It was supposed to be a dream.”

  “A dream it was, because the girl who regards love as a serious matter is a girl who has never been in love.”

  He slid his hand over hers. “People do stupid things under the light of the moon.”

  “Come, I’ll introduce you to Her Grace the Duchess of Marlboro, Consuelo Vanderbilt. Her mother locked her in her room for two weeks until she agreed to marry the Duke. I wonder what she might think of this play.”

  She angled toward the dark-haired only daughter of Alva Vanderbilt, her body swollen with child, and cut her voice to a stage whisper. “The woman gave birth to the heir to the Spencer-Churchill legacy only a year ago. She refers to this child as ‘the spare.’ Her duke she left conveniently at Blenheim Palace in England.”

  “You women have a delicious view of marriage.”

  “And you men seem to think it a game.”

  Beside her, Bennett smiled at a number of young women, clearly the gaggle having spent most of the evening circling the eligible bachelor, hoping for an introduction, as evidenced by the way they used their fans to hide their smiles.

  Jinx had never played at the game of debutante flirting.

  Consuelo was occupied by a group of aunts, so Jinx allowed Bennett to guide her across the lawn, toward the edge, where the dark waves splattered upon the rocks below.

  Jinx suppressed a yawn, then couldn’t help it and covered her mouth.

  “I should get you home.”

  “Not until you tell me whom you would like to call on. I can make the arrangements.”

  “You don’t have to find me a match, Jinx.”

  “I think Foster would like to see you married. I know your parents would. They are getting older—”

  “My father’s mind slipped away years ago. And mother is more interested in the bottom of her whiskey bottle than my advantageous marriage.”

  “Bennett!”

  “I’m sorry, but they decided long ago that the only Worth they trusted was Foster. I failed out of West Point, and they sent me away to Paris to forget my name.”

  “But you made a name for yourself. Foster said you tripled the company’s worth in the past two years.”

  He glanced down at her, surprise in his eyes. “Foster told you that?”

  “I listen to his conversations sometimes. He speaks highly of you to his friends.”

  “Too bad my father didn’t have the mind to recognize it.”

  “I learned long ago not to hope in the approval of a father.” The words sounded harsh, even bitter in her ears.

  He said nothing, the chamber music of Mrs. Astor’s orchestra lilting across the grass.

  “Why do they call you Jinx?”

  She removed her hand from the crook of his arm. Her body felt sticky with the heat, despite the breeze off the ocean. “My father called me Jinx. At first, I loved the name, thought it was a term of endearment. Only later did I realize he meant I had brought him bad luck.”

  “Jinx…” Bennett turned to her, the texture of kindness in his eyes.

  “Please, don’t. I have long come to believe we make our own luck, design our own fate. No one will look after us but ourselves.”

  “That’s not true, Jinx.”

  “Really? My father is a cheater and a cruel man, and he married me off to one of the same. My mother and I have had to fight for every piece of this life I’ve attained, and Foster hasn’t a clue about what I do to keep him in good society. Shall we walk?” She turned, and he drew in a long breath before he held out his elbow.

  “Foster doesn’t mean to be cruel.”

  “Of course not. He just despises me because he believes I conspired to make him marry the wrong sister.”

  “The wrong sister? I don’t understand.”

  “He was engaged to my sister, Esme. But she eloped with our butler’s son and—”

  “You married him in her place. I always wondered if I read the paper incorrectly.”

  “We were friends, and I misread his affections.”

  “I’m sure he was agreeable, or he would have never said yes. I know Foster. He’s a stubborn man, set in his ways.”

  “He wanted Esme, and settled for me to get his hands into my father’s newspaper and influence. I use to think he wanted to run for a public office, and having the newspaper would only advance his cause. It’s made it worse that I haven’t been able to offer him a child. I fear he’s tiring of trying. And of me.”

  “Jinx.”

  Her name, again, on his voice, in that tone, could unravel her. She looked away from him. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

  “Yes, you should have. Foster is stupid not to see what he has.”

  She hated how he could find the kindest things to say at the most raw of moments. She drew in a breath. “Tell me which of these women here you want to meet?”

  “I’ve already—”

  She nearly tripped, and dug her grip into his arm.

  “Are you okay? Did you turn your ankle?” He led her to a folding chair, settled her upon it, kneeling before her.

  She slapped his hands away then cut her voice low at his startled expression. “That’s the last thing I need—for Mrs. Astor to see my brother-in-law lifting my skirt.”

  “I’m hardly lifting your skirt. You twisted your ankle.”

  “I’m fine.” She leaned back, stifled another yawn. “Just exhausted.”

  He took the chair next to her. “You haven’t been sleeping?”

  “Too hot outside.” She fanned herself for practicality only. “Sometimes, I stand at the window and stare at the fountain, wishing I could be like the swans and splash through the cool water.” She fought a smile. “I have this wild dream of showing up at Bailey’s Beach in my bare feet and wading into the water.”

  Oh. Whoops. She hadn’t quite meant to share that. Heat flushed her face, and she glanced at Bennett, hoping he hadn’t really heard.

  Unfortunately, he was regarding her, those blue eyes on her, as if trying to unravel her words. The wind tousled his dark blond hair, ruffled his tie. Then, “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Please, Jinx.” Her heart tripped, thumped in her chest, an unfamiliar tingle in her veins.

  She couldn’t rightly make a scene, could she? Especially with him standing over her, extending his hand. She took it and he helped her up then led her through the house, signaling their footman at the door for their landau. He shooed the man away and helped her with his own hand into the carriage.

  “We didn’t say good-bye to Mrs. Astor.” She felt oddly mischievous, even naughty.

  “I promise you, no one noticed.” He leaned back against the seat, staring at the stars.

  She did the same. Let her heart trip then settle into a regular, albeit quicker beat.

  “Can you trace the Big Dipper?”

  “No.”

  He pointed it out, then the Little Dipper. “And those three bright stars are Orion’s Belt.”

  “Where?”

  He moved over beside her, pointed to the sky. She nodded, but didn’t see, his nearness suddenly befuddling her senses. He smelled dangerously sweet.

  She finally sat up and saw that instead of turning left, to Rosehaven, they’d continued down Bellevue Avenue, past the Breakers and the Chateau-Sur Mer, past A
lva’s Marble House, and toward the center of town. “Where are we going?”

  “Just a little place I know about. I promise, no one will know.”

  No one will know. Well, they had already kept one secret.

  Instead of turning toward the wharf, they went east along Memorial Drive, into the middle class section of town, the older, smaller, sea-beaten homes, then onto the peninsula connecting Newport to Aquidneck Island.

  Bennett leaned up as they came to a rutted two-wheeled path. Beyond the scrub of the wispy beach grasses and tangle of wild roses, the ocean glistened under the moonlight.

  “Stay here,” he instructed the footman, and helped Jinx off the landau, holding her around the waist, his hands firm on her as she sank into the pearly sand.

  “Where are we?”

  “Foster and I used to come here when we were younger, when my parents took rooms in town. It was the only place we could swim without our knickerbockers.”

  “Bennett!”

  “Shh. I promise to keep my knickers on.” He glanced at her, grinned.

  Sometimes, like now, she could easily grasp that he was only a year older than she.

  He helped her to the beach and to a pale, skinned piece of driftwood. “Sit, please.” He held her hands as she sank down onto it.

  Then he knelt into the sand and reached for her hem.

  “Bennett.”

  “Trust me. I won’t look.” He raised her hem enough to slide her slippers from her feet, roll her stockings off.

  “Put your feet in the sand.”

  She lowered them to the earth, expecting something harsh and cold. Yes, the cold nipped at her feet, but as she burrowed her toes into the milky sand, she began to giggle. “It’s…creamy. No, it’s like sugar. Wet sugar.”

  Beside her, he untied his own shoes, set them aside, dug his feet in. She stared at the creamy white flesh of his feet, the strength in his ankles, his legs.

  He held out his hand. “Hold up your skirt.” Then he hoisted her up, and before she could protest, dragged her to the surf.

  “Bennett, wait—”

  But he didn’t. Just pulled her right in up to her ankles, where her feet sank into the sand and the waves frothed its cold batter around her ankles.

  The sea.

  Another wave spilled over her then tunneled out the sand beneath her feet. She laughed, nearly fell, and Bennett caught her.

  “I love it.” She glanced up at him, saw herself reflected in his eyes. Saw her smile, her laughter. “I love it.”

  “Me too,” he said, grinning, holding her hands as another wave poured in. “I could get lost in the sea.”

  They stood in the surf as the ocean tugged at them, cajoling them into its mystery, the moon the only witness to the truth as it settled into Jinx’s heart.

  This man was the Worth son she wished she’d married.

  Chapter 8

  “That was absolutely not out.”

  Jinx approached the net, pointing where Bennett’s serve had landed in the opposite court. The morning sun shown down upon the clipped, pressed grass of the court, ringed inside the horseshoe courtyard of the Newport Casino. The dewy smell of earth and fresh-cut grass had long surrendered to the rigors of their early morning match.

  Elise Donahue met her on the other side. “It was on the line. And on the line means out.”

  Jinx glanced from her to Grayson, Elise’s brother, laughing as he backed up to the service line. “Jinx, you don’t have to argue every call.”

  Maybe not, but she had to do something to salvage their match. Jinx felt as if she might be combusting from the inside out, beads of unsightly perspiration glistening on her skin and rolling down her corset, dampening the stiff white collar of her cotton shirtwaist and her flannel tennis skirt, while Elise appeared unblemished by the August morning sun, her white tennis shirt and skirt stiff with starch, her veiled sailor’s cap neatly pinned.

  Bennett had been watching the unmarried debutante all morning.

  At any moment, Jinx’s own hat might fly like a clay pigeon off her head. She wanted to claw the veil, tied neatly at the back brim, from around her face and allow herself a good look at the game.

  Maybe then, she wouldn’t miss so many shots.

  Maybe then, Bennett’s gaze might find itself back on her.

  “It’s okay, Jinx. Their serve. It’s still forty-love.” Bennett moved into position, readying himself for Grayson’s serve. But he glanced at her and winked.

  Something dangerous took flight inside her.

  He appeared every inch the gentleman sportsman this morning in his cream linen tennis suit with the blue stripes, the white tie and a dark blue derby, a pair of suede court shoes. She’d given him Foster’s racquet—a nearly unused Slazengor Demon. “I had the catgut restrung by my footman when he worked on my racquet,” she said when she handed it to him.

  “You mean to win,” Bennett said, offering his arm. Her hand fit so neatly, so easily into it after two weeks of jaunting around Newport, making introductions at luncheons, competing with him during coaching contests, pairing with him in croquet at lawn parties, and besting other doubles at tennis.

  Never, however, had he shown any interest in anyone’s company besides her own. Perhaps she had become spoiled with his attention.

  His gentlemanly attention. Aside from their risqué wade into the sea, he’d done nothing to stir up memories of their clandestine night together. Nothing to make her feel sordid.

  Nothing to indicate, in fact, that he even remembered holding her in his arms. Kissing her.

  But he’d made her that promise, hadn’t he?

  “The Donahues hold last year’s doubles title. Wouldn’t it be lovely to dethrone them?” Jinx said, lining up at half-court. It helped that her father owned the Newport Casino—her presence at the tennis club seemed expected. Even with Bennett.

  Grayson’s serve landed in the service square and Bennett lobbed it back easily. Elise returned and Jinx stepped back, nearly into Bennett, to return the shot to Grayson. He scooped it up and sent it high over the net, the perfect setup for Jinx to smash it back to him.

  Grayson let it go with a shake of his head. “You going to let Bennett play, or should we let him retire to the bar?”

  Jinx glanced back at Bennett. He shrugged.

  “Sorry.”

  “You can’t help it. But I’m here, just in case you want a partner.”

  He finished off the game with two neat aces.

  Elise met her at the net. “You play beautifully, Jinx. I daresay you’ve been practicing. Will you attend the Open next week?”

  “Of course—my best to you and Grayson.”

  “I think you and Bennett should enter.” Grayson shook Bennett’s hand. From Irish influence, he had kind eyes and an estate of millions. Recently widowed after his young wife passed in childbirth, Grayson had been eligible during the season she would have debuted.

  Jinx might have been his wife.

  Elise slipped her gloved hand into Bennett’s, smiled up at him. “Newport is lucky to have such an accomplished sportsman among us.”

  Jinx didn’t miss her smile, the way she held Bennett’s eyes. Something twisted inside Jinx when Bennett smiled back. “I believe the same could be said about you, Miss Donahue.”

  Her smile affixed, Jinx shook Grayson’s hand. “I think we’ll simply watch you two win, won’t we, Bennett?” She let go of Grayson, slipped her hand under Bennett’s arm, despite the fact he still seemed transfixed with Elise’s smile.

  Her golden hair.

  Her willowy body.

  Of course she bewitched him. “Bennett, we have luncheon plans.” She gave his arm a tug.

  “Indeed.” He seemed to come back to himself then, traded his racquet into the other hand, crooked his arm. “Perhaps I could call on you later, Elise?” He looked at Jinx, as if for permission.

  The unexpected urge to wail filled Jinx’s chest, but she nodded. He’d need a society escort, and since she
was his married sister-in-law, she could easily fill that role. “Perhaps this afternoon?”

  “Lovely. I’ll be at home today,” Elise said. She looked at Bennett, such glorious hope in her eyes. “Thank you for besting us.”

  Jinx barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

  A court attendant gathered their racquets, secured them in the satchels, then followed them out as Bennett walked her back to the Casino meeting rooms in silence. His smile had vanished. “Would you like some lemonade?”

  “No. I need to return home and repair my toilette if we are going out calling today.”

  He said nothing as they exited the building to their landau. He let her grip slide from his arm and allowed the footman to help her into the carriage, climbing up across from her.

  He glanced at her, his voice tight. “Did you know Elise was a debutante when you arranged this match?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded, his lips knotted, suppressing all other comments.

  He didn’t look at her as they drove home.

  And why not? He knew a beautiful woman when he saw one.

  Jinx tried to drink in the sight of the harbor, so many yachts glinting in the sun, dappled upon the water. The smell of fresh fish, wet nets, gas, and oil obliterated the sweetness of the sea, and shoppers, their baskets full of fruits and breads, made her stomach roar. She’d been famished after tennis, but now—

  She pressed a hand to her mouth.

  “Are you okay?”

  His tone nearly made her want to cry. What was her problem that she flitted from one extreme emotion to the next? One second she wanted to fight Grayson for points, the next, pummel Elise and Bennett for their smiles, and now she just wanted to cry.

  And, she felt ill. She reached up, untied her veil, and lifted off her hat as Bennett watched, wide eyed. “What are you doing?”

  “Fanning myself. I think I need to eat lunch. Too much exercise.”

  “What did you have to eat this morning?”

  “I wasn’t hungry. Toast and tea.”

  Bennett turned around in his seat. “Driver, please stop.”

  The carriage pulled up to the side of the road. “Stay here,” Bennett said, and hopped down. She put her head back on the seat. Maybe she should instruct the driver to put up the top lest the Newport Daily News see her collapsed in her landau. But the sun seeped into her skin, kissing it, and the sounds of the village lulled her and—