“Garrett? Is that you?”
They looked up, startled, and spied Felicia Browning approaching.
She wore the most beautiful coat Madeline had ever seen—a double-breasted wool coat in cocoa brown duvetyn, trimmed in mink fur. The waist was fitted, tapering at the waist before flaring out into a full skirt. The wind lifted the bottom edge of the coat, revealing a blood-red silk lining as she walked.
If that’s not by House of Worth, than I’m a monkey’s uncle! Madeline struggled to contain the envy that reared up inside, knowing she might never wear Worth again.
“Miss Browning!” Mr. Gladstone stood to greet her. “What brings you out alone in the park?”
“Oh, I’m not alone, Garrett—I mean, Mr. Gladstone.” She flashed Madeline a smile as if to apologize for her informal address of him…but Madeline suspected it was no accident. “I’m with Miss Winthrop. But she ran into a gentleman friend of hers, and I thought I’d take a short stroll and give them a minute to talk.”
Or you saw Mr. Gladstone with another woman, and headed straight over here, Madeline thought. She glanced across the garden, and spied Viola Winthrop and a man standing near the statue of Washington, stealing surreptitious glances their way. Exactly as I thought!
“Have you met Miss Madeline Barstow? ”
Felicia smiled, her expression cat-like. “Oh yes, I know all about the Barstow family.” Her voice dripped sarcasm, wrapped in a polite tone.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Browning.” Madeline managed a tight smile. “I’m sorry to hear your sister is so ill.”
Felicia’s cocky smile softened into an air of concern. “It’s dreadful. Just ask Mr. Gladstone.” She laid a hand on his arm. “He’s spent countless hours with me, at poor Amelia’s bedside. I thought we would lose her for sure.” She turned her face up toward Mr. Gladstone’s, her eyes wide and sorrowful, and her mouth formed into a sad little pout.
Her charade was so transparent, and so syrupy-sweet, that Madeline thought she might be ill.
A flush crept up Mr. Gladstone’s neck, and he patted her hand before gently removing it. “We were all worried.”
“I’m surprised you’re out socializing if your sister is so unwell.” Madeline assumed an equally false expression of concern. Mr. Gladstone had told her how much better Amelia was doing.
“Oh, I think she’s much better,” Mr. Gladstone cut in, “don’t you, Miss Browning.
Felicia turned her face away from Mr. Gladstone for a moment, pinning Madeline with an icy stare. “Yes. I suppose she is.” Then the look was gone, and she turned back to her former fiancé. “But then, she could relapse at any moment. She does so much better when you come to see her. I do hope you will keep coming.”
“Of course I will, but I’m swamped at work. I need to impress the senior attorneys at my firm, and live up to the expectations they have for the nephew of Edgar Dwight. I don’t think I can continue spending every evening at your home, especially when Amelia is on the mend.”
“Certainly…but…I’m still so worried about her. I just don’t know what I’ll do, without you there to lean on. Perhaps you could come by right now…?” She looked up at him through her long, blonde eyelashes, her face a mixture of pathetic neediness and coy flirtation.
That’s enough, Madeline seethed. It ends here.
Chapter Fifteen
“Wait, Clara,” Grace huffed as she walked briskly down the promenade, barely able to keep up with her sister’s brisk pace. “The last thing you want to do is arrive out of breath and appearing over eager.”
“I’m sorry.” Clara slowed down. “I suppose I am eager.”
They took a more reasonable pace as they left the walking mall for a narrower promenade.
“You still haven’t told me your gentleman’s name.”
Clara remained silent a moment. “You’ve met him before. I’ll bet you can’t guess who it is.” She wore an impish grin.
“Oh really, Clara, I’m not in the mood for a game. How could I possibly guess? You flit about at every social gathering like a butterfly, drawing attention from every suitor that passes!”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
As they approached the Ether Monument, Grace heard loud voices ahead…and one voice sounded familiar.
“Madeline?” she wondered aloud.
They began to follow the path circling the monument’s fountain base, when a trio came into view on the promenade beyond, clustered together, with two women engaged in a heated conversation.
“Oh no!” Grace gasped, pulling Clara until they were hidden from view behind the base of the Ether Monument. “It’s him! Mr. Gladstone.”
Clara followed her gaze to where Mr. Gladstone stood beside a park bench. “So it is.”
“Why is Madeline with him? And who is that in the brown coat?”
“Oooh, that coat is divine!”
“It looks like Miss Browning. They must be out on a walk together, and stopped to talk to Madeline.” Her heart ached at the thought.
Come now, Grace, what’s wrong with you? Who cares about a man who doesn’t feel a thing for you? You must get past it!
“No, Grace, you’re wrong—”
“Sssh,” Grace hissed. “It sounds like they’re arguing. Why would that be?”
“Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.” Clara bit her lip.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get to your gentleman caller soon enough. We just need to stay quiet and wait for them to leave. Hopefully they’ll go in the opposite direction—I couldn’t bear to speak to him.”
“We shouldn’t lie in wait here. It’s like eavesdropping. We should just walk up to them and let them know we’re here.” Clara pulled her sleeve from Grace’s grasp and continued around the dry fountain, toward them.
“No!” hissed Grace. But it was too late.
Drawing up her courage, Grace followed.
***
Madeline almost expected Miss Browning to bat her eyelashes at Mr. Gladstone. The sly girl was turning on the charm, and playing to his gentlemanly sense of duty.
“Please,” Miss Browning urged, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble to visit Amelia at least one more time, would it?”
Mr. Gladstone opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. What could a man say, when put in such an awkward position?
Madeline had reached the limits of patients.
She rose slowly from the bench, regarding Felicia with her own frigid glare, while maintaining the façade of a polite smile. “Miss Browning, I’m shocked that your mother didn’t teach you more decorum.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Gladstone is clearly making a social call,” Madeline snapped, bending the truth a little, “if he wanted to court you, wouldn’t he be at your door, not mine?”
Felicia’s mouth gaped. “How rude!” She turned to Mr. Gladstone, taking his hand in a bold manner. “Garrett, please tell me you’re not courting this…this…this awful, spiteful, selfish woman!”
“And if he is?” Madeline stepped forward, taking the place on the other side of Mr. Gladstone, standing close to him and implying familiarity. “You are the one that used him to irritate your parents, Miss Browning, and you cast him aside. Then, when you saw him dance with my sister at the Winter Ball, you decided you wanted him back. You used your sister’s illness to draw him back into your life. Now seeing him here with me, you’re trying the same ruse, even though your sister is on the mend!”
“You’re destitute now,” Felicia mocked, “so I should find it no surprise that you’d try to steal a man out from under me.”
“Steal him? You turned him away of your own accord.” She drew herself up, tall and proud. “And at least when I marry, it won’t be for money, or power, or position. It will be for love. Real love. Here you are, one of the wealthiest girls in Boston, and you must trick a man into coming to see you!”
Felicia’s chest heaved, her eyes burning with rage, but she said nothing, and
merely turned back to Garrett. “It was bad enough that you fawned all over Grace Barstow, plain little bean pole that she is, but now you’ve moved on to Madeline? Who is next? Their debutante little sister? They’re penniless, Garrett! They have nothing! They are nothing.” She took his hand in both of hers. “I can give you everything!”
Tears glistened in Felicia’s eyes, and Madeline almost believed they were real, that time…though conjured up over her own self-pity.
“That’s enough!” Garrett hissed, pulling his hand from her grasp. “You’re making a fool of yourself. I cannot believe you would drag the good name of such fine people through the mud, Miss Browning,” he said, emphasizing her surname in order to put emotional distance between them. “I knew you were spoiled, but I had no idea you were so selfish. It is none of your concern who I court, or who I marry. The only thing that you need know is it won’t be you.”
Felicia sputtered, then whirled around and stalked off toward her friends, the flapping hem of her coat revealing glimpses of blood-red silk as she went.
Somehow, Madeline managed to stifle the laugh that wanted to escape. “Well done, Mr. Gladstone.”
They grinned at each other, and Mr. Gladstone shook his head. “I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”
“Madeline?”
They both whirled and saw her sisters approaching. Grace’s face was pallid and her sapphire eyes wide with shock. “Are you being courted by him?”
The accusation stung, but it was understandable, given what Grace must have overheard. “No…” She rushed toward Grace, taking her hand. Grace yanked it away, her eyes reflecting betrayal.
Madeline realized she might have made yet another grave mistake.
Chapter Sixteen
Grace’s mind whirled as she watched in horror as the scene played out before her. She missed much of what was said, but when Madeline’s voice rose, strident and furious, above the wind, she heard the words that turned her heart cold.
Madeline was being secretly courted by Mr. Gladstone.
It can’t be. It can’t. There must be some mistake.
But it all made sense—the reason Madeline wanted Grace to get out of the house and meet people, and why she was so eager to lower Grace’s opinion of Mr. Gladstone.
Madeline wanted him for herself.
“So he did care more about the Barstow name than about me after all!” Grace muttered, tears stinging her eyes. “And now he’s found himself another Barstow daughter…a prettier one.”
“No, Grace, you have it all wrong…please, stop…” Clara grasped at her sleeve again.
But she shook Clara off. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, bringing her closer to the trio as they argued. She wanted to flee, but her shock and anger propelled her on, despite Clara’s whispered protests.
She walked up behind Madeline and Mr. Gladstone as they watched Felicia Browning stride away. Somehow she found the courage to ask the question that she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.
“Are you being courted by him?” Her voice broke, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold the angry tears at bay.
“No…”
Madeline came forward and tried to take her hand, but Grace pulled away as if her hands were on fire.
“Grace, please,” Madeline begged, “I promise nothing is going on between Mr. Gladstone and I. We were waiting here for you. I only said those things to drive Miss Browning away. The girl is abominable!”
The fear and hurt melted away into confusion as Grace looked up at Mr. Gladstone. “Why would you be waiting for me? How could you know I would be…?” her voice trailed off, and she regarded Clara with a cold look of hurt and distrust. “So the man who wanted to meet you in the park…it was really Mr. Gladstone, waiting for you to bring me? It was just a ruse?”
“Don’t be angry.” Clara exchanged a sheepish look with Madeline. “We knew you wouldn’t come down from your room willingly to hear what he has to say.”
Grace’s eyes flicked up to Mr. Gladstone, then looked away. “I’m not sure there is anything to be said.”
“Miss Barstow, please,” he begged, “there is much to say. There has been a terrible mix up, and I’m afraid you’ve come away with the idea that I shunned you at the ball.”
“Didn’t you?” Her voice had an icy edge to it.
“No! Not at all. Miss Browning came up to me just as I was coming to ask you to dance. She delivered some terrible news…” he continued on, explaining the entire story.
“I don’t understand. How is it possible that for weeks now, you’ve been completely ignorant of our situation, or the fact that we’re living at our uncle’s home? If you wanted to find me so badly, why wouldn’t you have asked around? You’re staying in your uncle’s home at the moment—surely the staff could have found out for you?”
“You must understand, my aunt and uncle are still out of town, and I don’t move in the same social circles that you do. Any high society events I attend are either held by my aunt and uncle, or else I attend as their guest. I am not on the calling list of any of Boston’s elite. As to why I didn’t investigate more, and locate your family…well, I have no legitimate excuse for that. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s the result of pride on my part. I don’t take rejection very well, and I was sure your silence was a rejection. Otherwise, decorum would have dictated that you leave your calling card at my uncle’s home…had you gotten the message, that is.”
His admission moved her, cracking the hard shell she had erected around her heart. “I’m afraid that may be a quality we both share. I was sure you had rejected me, even though I was too rude to even listen to the message you sent with the footman. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Only if you forgive me. I had a sense of your character—I should never have assumed the worst, without at least finding out from you in person.” He glanced over at Madeline and Clara, then shifted his gaze back to Grace. “I have the rest of the afternoon off, and I think there may be an hour of sunlight left. Could I interest you in a stroll around the Common?” He offered her his arm.
A thrill ran through her. “I…yes, I’d be delighted.” She took his arm.
“And you’re both welcome to come along, as chaperones,” he told her sisters.
“Grace is old enough to walk in the park unchaperoned, but perhaps we will go for a stroll on our own.”
“Good idea,” Clara agreed, “Mother will be home any minute, and the longer we stay out, the happier she’ll be when we return.”
The two of them walked off in a different direction, leaving Grace and Mr. Gladstone to stroll at a casual pace. Her hand was hooked in the crook of his arm, and she enjoyed the warmth of his body against it. It was as if the last few weeks never happened, and this was just a continuation of their night at the ball.
“Your sisters are delightful,” he said. “They both have a lot of spunk.”
Grace laughed. “They are wonderful. Clearly, I owe them a lot. They’ve put up with my...moods…for the last few weeks. I’ve given them no reason to go to such great lengths to help me, yet they have. I must thank them later, for all they’ve done.”
“You and I, both. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be at your side. I must confess…I’ve thought of little else these last weeks.”
“Oh?” Grace had no idea how she was maintaining such a calm exterior. Inside she was dancing! She would never admit to him just how often she’d thought of him.
“I suppose I should make more small talk and wait until I see you to your door to bring this up, but I can’t. Too much time has passed. I’ve waited four years to ask you this, and I won’t wait another moment.” He stopped, turning toward her, their faces scarcely a foot apart. “I would very much like permission to court you, Grace Barstow.”
The air left her lungs entirely, leaving her breathless. “I…you…do?”
He nodded. “Most definitely.”
The silence stretched on as she was lost i
n his eyes, and in the delight of knowing that he truly did want to be with her.
“Miss Barstow?” His brow furrowed.
“Oh!” She realized with a start that he was still waiting for an answer. “Yes. Of course, my answer is yes.”
He beamed, turning to lead her down the promenade again, stealing glances at her as they went. “There’s just one thing.”
Her heart—so overwhelmed with joy—skipped a beat out of fear. “What’s that?”
“Your mother. I know we’ll need her approval. And I must be frank…I did not exaggerate when I said I am on no one’s calling list. I’ve never been invited to a society event on my own, and though that could change as I rise in esteem at my law firm, I’d be unlikely to attain more than being invited to the largest of society’s charity events. The more exclusive events would be closed to me. And given your family’s situation…in the end, if a woman like you should marry a man like me, it could pull you down lower in social standing.”
Grace thought a moment before giving her reply. “My sister and I are of the same mind…when I marry, it must be for love. Of all my family, I’m probably the least attached to our fancy things or our place in society. I don’t like the idea of being gossiped about, but at the same time, anyone who would speak out of turn about me or my family is not someone whose opinion I respect. So although we do need to seek my mother’s approval, I will make it clear to her that I will only marry a man I love.”
He said nothing, only stared straight ahead. But his left hand crept over to where hers rested, hooked on his arm, and he gave it a brief squeeze. That squeeze told Grace everything she needed to know.
Chapter Seventeen
June, 1897
Madeline watched as her sister and Garrett Gladstone descended the steps of the church, laughing and holding hands as Garrett helped her alight into the open carriage. She blinked against the onslaught of rice tossed at the newlywed couple, which ricocheted and bounced off her own gown.
The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) Page 8
