“You’re distracted,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts. “I apologize, I must be monopolizing you.”
“No, not at all. I’m just—”
“It’s alright. I must make way for my competition, or risk being considered a lout.”
She desperately wanted him to remain with her, but it would be outside the bounds of decorum to admit it. “Perhaps I should mix a bit more. Thank you for the dances.”
He bowed his head. “The pleasure was mine. I do hope you’ll save me at least one more, as you promised.”
“I will.” She couldn’t hold back her beaming smile.
“Until then.”
She nodded, then turned and walked back toward her mother, feeling sure that he watched her retreat. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a sensation resurrected from her past—one she thought sure she’d never feel again.
She liked Garrett Gladstone, Esquire, very much indeed.
Chapter Five
Grace finished her punch, hoping someone else would talk to her. When no one did, she made her way back to her mother, knowing she’d demand a full report.
“Whom were you speaking with?” Miriam asked, her lips pursed. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”
“Garrett Gladstone, Esquire.” Grace waited for the inevitable criticism.
“An attorney?” Miriam wrinkled her nose almost imperceptibly.
“Many of our society are attorneys, Mother, or have relations who are.”
“Yes, but those attorneys have political connections, fortune, or famous historical ancestors.”
A smile played about Grace’s lips as she revealed her secret weapon. “His father was Edgar Dwight’s brother.”
“Edgar Dwight is his uncle? Well, why didn’t you say so?” Miriam’s voice rose an octave, taking on an enthusiastic lilt.
“He also may have political aspirations.”
“May?”
“I don’t know if they’re truly his aspirations, or his uncle’s.”
“If they are Edgar Dwight’s aspirations, then they will be his, like it or not. Oh my dear!” Miriam clasped her hands together to contain her delight. “Mr. Dwight has no sons. That must mean Mr. Gladstone is the male heir.”
“I cannot say, Mother. I did not think it proper to ask if he was in the will.” She flashed her Mother a pointed look.
Yet Grace’s hopes were raised. For once, her mother’s desires matched her own, and life was so much easier as a Barstow daughter when that rare but happy coincidence occurred.
“That’s enough dancing for me,” Madeline breathed as she joined them. “I’m quite out of practice, and I feel as if everyone’s eyes are on me.”
“Why wouldn’t they be, my dear? You look lovely in that green dress. You’d look better in the wine color Clara has on, of course, but poor Clara was dying to wear something a little brighter.”
Madeline exchanged glances with Grace over their mother’s backhanded compliment.
“And who was that I saw you dancing with, dear sister?” Madeline whispered in Grace’s ear.
“Garrett Gladstone.” Grace brightened with the change of subject. “Apparently we met at the Winter Ball shortly after my coming out, though I’ve no recollection of it.”
“Not surprising, given that you only had eyes for…” Madeline’s voice trailed off, her eyes widening. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”
“Think nothing of it. You’re quite right, my attentions were elsewhere that night.” She pushed away thoughts of Winston, and the first night he had expressed a romantic interest in her. It was he who had monopolized her for much of that long ago night. Between Winston’s attention and that of several other young men, it was no wonder Garrett had been hesitant to approach her more than once.
An awkward silence followed as both ladies watched the dancers spin about the room before them. Mr. Gladstone whirled by with another girl, catching Grace’s eye as he spun past.
I thought he didn’t like to dance! Grace’s stomach flipped, both with attraction to him, and jealousy over the pretty girl in his arms. He’d been reluctant to dance with her…yet there he was, smiling and happy on the dance floor with another girl. A girl who had true wealth and status in society.
A girl who would make the perfect politician’s wife.
“He’s dashing,” Madeline whispered.
“He is handsome, isn’t he?” Grace lowered her voice even more. “Mother is over the moon—can you believe it?”
“No! She actually approves of someone you chose?”
“He’s Edgar Dwight’s nephew.”
Madeline feigned shock. “How is Mother still upright? One would expect her to faint dead away upon learning such news. Edgar Dwight has no son of his own.”
“That’s what Mother said,” Grace tittered, engendering a sideways glare from her mother, who stood on the other side of Madeline.
“Shouldn’t you both be dancing?” Miriam prodded.
“Mother, I just came off the dance floor,” Madeline complained.
“Talking with your sister won’t get you any closer to a courtship.”
“Neither will glistening like a glass of iced tea in July. It’s steaming hot in here! Besides, I spoke with Dalton Ashby earlier.”
Grace couldn’t keep her giggle inside, earning her a second maternal glare.
“Yes, I noticed. Clearly you aim to vex me tonight, child. We are not yet so desperate as to entertain the likes of Dalton Ashby. He’s hardly a step above nouveau riche, and his fortune isn’t big enough to make one forget the fact.”
“He’s very nice, and rather handsome. Have I any better options right now?”
Miriam sighed. “Perhaps not. But must we start off the evening at the bottom of the barrel?”
Grace felt awful for Madeline. Dalton Ashby had been a persistent suitor of Madeline’s for years. Madeline liked him, but felt no romantic inclinations toward him. It was a terrible thing to be forced to choose a path for your life based on the needs of the family, and not your own desires. She’d dreaded it herself…until she met Garrett.
“Mr. Ashby is nowhere near the bottom of the barrel. Why, Grace danced with an attorney!”
Grace’s sympathy melted away, and she scowled at her sister for dragging her into it.
“Fine. You’re right. He’s not all that bad. But I…I just don’t like him,” Miriam spat.
“Mother, I’ve had enough for one night,” Madeline said under her breath. “You insisted we come here tonight. I complied. You insisted we socialize. Again I complied. Now you’re criticizing the way I’m socializing?”
“I’m criticizing your choice of a conversational partner. And I don’t like your tone young lady. If you’d been compliant when I first asked you to attend balls, you’d be courting already.”
“I told you, I wasn’t ready,” she hissed. “I still don’t feel ready. It feels as if we just buried Father.”
“Mind your manners,” Miriam chided in a harsh whisper. “And stop playing the role of grieving widow. I lost my husband. Do you think I don’t feel his absence? Do you think I wouldn’t rather be home, than standing here, watching everyone laugh and have a good time, while having to goad you into taking responsibility for your future? Don’t pretend you’re so overwrought, Madeline. We all know you haven’t shed a single tear since the day your father died.”
Madeline’s jaw tensed, fire blazing in her eyes. Yet she remained silent, spinning on her heel and walking briskly toward the music room.
Grace gaped, appalled at her mother’s ruthless comment. “Mother, how could you?”
“Don’t start, Grace. That girl is pushing me to my limits tonight.”
“You know as well as I do that this has hit Madeline just as hard as it hit us. But someone had to take over. I couldn’t think straight, Clara cried day and night when out of the public eye, and you were nearly catatonic. It was Madeline who made most of the decisions for Father’s funeral, Madeline who greeted friends and
loved ones who came to leave their calling card to extend their condolences, and Madeline who kept the house running for months when you were upstairs in your room, too distraught to even speak with the staff.”
Miriam lowered her head and heaved a shaky sigh. “It’s true, Madeline took the brunt of that burden,” she said, blinking back tears and turning away from the revelers to hide her emotions. “But why did she never shed a tear for the father who loved her so much?”
“She’s a Barstow, Mother. A well-bred daughter from the highest social caste. Aside from the need to maintain a brave face in public and the family expectations of decorum, I don’t think she could let herself feel anything. She was closer to Father than all of us, even you, in some respects. He was her hero. She was his favored child—we all knew that. And when he was gone, she did the only thing she could do—she took his place, shoring us up in whatever way we needed support. I think if she had let herself cry, she might never have stopped, and she wouldn’t have been able to carry on, and do what Father would have wanted her to do.”
Grace was worried about her sister. She’d become cold and sullen in the last year. Their rooms shared a wall, and while she herself, as well as her mother and Clara, could often be heard sobbing into pillows at night, Madeline’s room had remained as silent as a grave. It was as if a part of her died right along with their father.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Miriam murmured. “You’re right, of course. She’s done everything Chandler would have done, and then some. Your father and I…the passion may have died away long ago, but I still loved the man. I suppose it hurt, seeing her so cold, never grieving. It never occurred to me that she might be holding it all in, for our sakes.” She stared after Madeline. “I should apologize.”
“Not now. You can talk with her tomorrow. Just don’t pressure her so much.”
“Darling, don’t you see? I can’t. I gave you all too much time. There’s no time to spare. We’re are losing our home—we must be out within the week. When we are staying with your uncle, someone will discover the truth, and once it’s out, a decent match will be impossible.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If your father had lost our fortune merely through poor investments, or some terrible circumstance, perhaps we could hope for only a lesser match. But his friends warned him, and even loaned him money, which he defaulted on. It was the first time ever that Chandler had such a terrible run of bad luck with his investments, and I suppose once under pressure, he continued to make bad decisions. I can’t imagine what he was thinking, keeping it from us. And now the friends who helped him think that he behaved foolishly, and that our situation was entirely his fault. He left us with nothing, and instead of using the last of our money sensibly, he used it to keep buying us dresses and jewels and hosting an extravagant engagement party for you and Winston—”
Grace blanched at the name of her deceased fiancé, then looked away, blinking back tears.
“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry—”
“No, it’s alright. One can’t avoid talking about him forever. And really, I wouldn’t want to forget him.”
“I don’t blame you or Winston for the expense of the party…”
“I know. Father meant well, but it was a mistake to spend so lavishly, for all his friends to see, when he kept claiming he was too poor to pay them back. I’m surprised they’ve been willing to keep his secret.”
“Only two men who know the full truth, and our attorney has spoken with them both. Out of consideration for us, they’ve been willing to keep it quiet…on the condition that none of my daughters attempt to catch the eyes of their sons or close relatives.”
“What? You never told us that!”
“Keep your voice down,” Miriam shushed. “I didn’t want to stir up Madeline’s paranoia any more than necessary. She’s terribly afraid of the day we’re discovered. I can’t imagine the shame she’d feel if she knew she was banned from seeking the attentions of certain young men, all for her father’s actions.”
“Is that why you told me on the evening of Clara’s coming out that you didn’t want me dancing with—”
“Yes. Precisely why. Now hush up, here comes Clara.”
Chapter Six
The evening wore on, and Grace was grateful that the men at the ball seemed to catch on that she was now “back on the market”. She still spent a little time on the fringes of the room watching other girls dance, but she was invited to the dance floor on regular intervals, to her immense relief.
She saw her mother flash her an approving look from the other side of the ballroom as she left the dance floor with her most recent partner—a man with money and good standing, but who very clearly was not enamored with her. He spent most of the dance chatting with her, but eyeing a blonde girl that he’d already danced with a few times. Before him, Grace had danced with another man she barely knew, but had no desire to dance with again—his face was frozen into the most unpleasant expression, and his conversation was distinctly annoying.
After her latest partner bid her an apathetic adieu, she was grateful to see Clara coming her way.
“Oh my, what a wonderful night!” she gushed. “My feet are aching, but it’s worth it. What fun!”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Clara. After a year stuck at home, you deserve it.”
Clara lowered her voice. “I’ve discerned some juicy information for you about your admirer.”
Grace’s heart fluttered. “What admirer?”
“Don’t play coy with me, dear sister. I saw the expression on your face when I interrupted the two of you. You’re smitten.”
Grace blushed. “Just tell me what you know. And please don’t tell me you’ve told anyone else about this!”
“ Of course not! I’m no gossip. I merely inquired with a friend, and left your name out of it completely. It turns out that there’s a girl here who spends part of the year in New York, where Mr. Gladstone is from, and when she was there last, she was in a courtship with your dashing attorney.”
The weight of Grace’s disappointment was crushing. “He was engaged? Is he still?”
She shook her head. “It never got that far. He called things off after only a couple of months. But the word is that she’s on the prowl tonight. My friend pointed her out. I’ve already seen her trying to get his attention once, but was intercepted by Alice Dwight, who introduced him to another young lady.”
Grace reached out for a nearby chair and sank into it. She’d had the romantic notion that he had pined for her for the last four years…that their meeting was somehow fated. But no, life had gone on for Garrett Gladstone. I’m just another wealthy girl he met years ago, and just happened to have run into again tonight.
“Why are you so downcast, Grace? He’s not courting her now. And by the look of him, he wasn’t much interested in her attentions earlier.”
That brightened her spirits. “You think so?”
“I do. I can’t be sure, but I do know he didn’t have the same glowing expression that he did when speaking with you.”
“I’m being silly. It turns out we met at the Winter Ball four years ago, and I suppose I’m jealous to hear that he’s had interest in someone else in the intervening time. How foolish is that? Especially given that I myself was engaged during that time.”
Her thoughts reverted instantly back to her engagement to Winston. Though they’d grown up around each other, her first Winter Ball had been the evening he had given her an inkling of his feelings. They’d danced many times—too many to be proper—but they hadn’t cared. They’d been too young at the time for Father to allow a formal courtship, so she had to endure an entire year of dividing her attentions between Winston and other men, and watching jealously while he did the same with other young ladies. It was sweet relief when Father finally allowed them to court, and an even greater relief when he eventually gave Winston his blessing to marry her.
“You’re thinking of Winston again,” Clara murmured, placing a supportive h
and on Grace’s shoulder. “I can tell.”
“I am.” She looked up at her sister, flashing a thin smile. “But you know, for the first time, it is with more happiness at the memory of him, than sadness for what was lost.”
“You would have been married by now.”
“Yes. Last June. I might have been with child by now.” That thought was a cruel blow—wondering about the children who might have been. “But Winston wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell like this. I’ve mourned for both him and Father, and the two of them would want me to move on and be happy. And so I shall. Even if it feels like it will kill me.”
“Well, I think Mr. Gladstone will be a splendid distraction for you. I don’t know if the two of you will end up together, but spending time with a man that handsome can only help things, no matter what the outcome,” Clara giggled.
“He is handsome, isn’t he?” She wouldn’t admit it to Clara, but she found herself more taken with him than she could ever have imagined. Not just by his looks, but by his kind demeanor and the depth of feeling that he shared with her. Most men wouldn’t have revealed such a wound as a parent’s death upon first meeting.
“He’s one of the handsomest in the room,” Clara agreed. “It’s a good thing he’s just an attorney—if he was the Dwights’ son instead of their nephew, you might be fighting the other girls off with a stick!”
“Are you discussing Grace’s new love interest?” Madeline asked as she joined the two girls.
“Don’t exaggerate, Madeline. We’ve only just met.”
“Again,” Clara interjected. “They met four years ago, and he’s been smitten with her ever since.”
“I never actually said that!” Grace could feel her cheeks heating.
“Who have you been dancing with, Madeline?” Clara inquired.
The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) Page 3
