“May I?” he asked.
Mable couldn’t ignore the softness in his tone. She nodded, though not entirely sure why he was asking to see it.
John took the items in hand, carefully slipping the fan under the cigar box lid before he tucked both under his elbow.
“I didn’t come back because I couldn’t come back,” he admitted, the lamplight illuminating his features. His brow was a touch furrowed, his mouth creased and serious. “You were the first woman who’d ever looked at me like I had the name of John, and not Ringling. And while I don’t make concessions for myself in walking away that day—”
“I should hope not. I’m not sure I would allow it.”
Something flashed in his eyes.
Amusement?
He nodded.
“Fair enough. But I also don’t abhor wealth. My family has worked hard to build something we’re proud of. Something that brings joy to a great number of people. And perhaps because of it, I am overly cautious with my relationships. All of them.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you to surrender anything, Mr. Ringling,” Mable whispered. “It was only a walk.” She reached for her box, eager to sidestep him and march on with life beyond the poignant exchange of regrets on a busy pier.
He eased his arm back, tucking the box just out of her reach.
“But that’s where you’re mistaken,” he whispered above the sound of the Midway rides, jazzy music, and the delights of patrons echoing in the distance. “It was more than a mere walk to me. And I think I’d much prefer it if you’d see fit to call me John from now on.”
There were differences about him, yes.
A few more years had filled out the lines of his face. But nothing had altered the smile he offered now. It was warm and unpretentious. Mable had a feeling that when a smile was granted by John Ringling, it was a special occurrence. One she couldn’t ignore.
“I am not looking for a benefactor, John Ringling,” she whispered, notching her chin an inch.
“That’s a relief.” He smiled again. With ease. “Because neither am I.”
He held out his free arm. Waiting.
Mable looked down with great intention, allowing him to see the indecision before bringing her eyes back to meet his.
“Perhaps we can start again, Mable. Go on another walk? I hear there’s a World’s Fair in St. Louis going on right this minute. I’m sure they have any number of camels and Midway souvenirs to catch your eye. And I’d like to see them all with you.”
She slipped her arm in his, stopping short of resting her hand on his arm. His eyes twinkled as he brushed a hand over hers and turned to lead them down the length of the pier.
“And what if there’s a fire this time, John?”
“Then I suppose instead of running, we’ll stop and put out the flames together.”
CHAPTER 9
1926
LONDON
“I think we’re ready. Ingénue’s settled in a car in back.”
Colin nearly had to shout so Rosamund could hear the sound of screeching train brakes and chugging steam engines easing in behind them at the busy railway station.
“You can still change your mind, you know.”
“I know,” Rosamund answered, standing her ground.
“But you won’t, will you?”
At a good ten inches shorter than Colin’s six-foot frame, she had to raise her chin high to meet the question in his gaze. But look up she did, with eyes that would show only brimming excitement.
From the moment she’d awoken before daybreak, Rosamund’s mind was made up: she was going to America.
She didn’t question it while donning her deep-purple fox-trimmed traveling coat and silver-gray frock, nor when she’d fumbled about in the early-morning darkness, fighting to tuck her riot of waves under an ivory satin–lined cloche. And if she hadn’t considered changing her mind when she’d slipped out of the manor, she certainly wouldn’t do it after coming all the way to London.
She peered past the end of the wooden passenger car, then surveyed the long stretch of tracks that met the landscape of the city’s mass of buildings beyond. The brick-and-mortar skyline disappeared behind puffs of smoke from chimneys and steam from departing trains. She clutched the cider leather traveling bag tighter in her gloved hands and gave a confident nod.
“My mind’s made up. I’m going.”
“As if I had any doubt.” Colin flipped the brim of his hat off his forehead, allowing the morning sunlight to cast a glow on a knowing smile. “I’ll just go check with Ward that everything’s as it should be with the accommodations for the rest of the stock. Do you have the ticket for your trunks?”
Rosamund handed over the ticket she’d received from the porter.
“I’ll make sure the porter knows to transfer your trunks at the Crawley Railway Station. We’ll change trains there and ride straight through to Southampton Port. We’ve got a stop or two to make along the way, but we should be in New York in a week and in Florida a few days after that. We’ll head straight in to the Sarasota fairgrounds from there. All clear?” He waited for a nod of understanding.
She complied, biting the edge of her bottom lip over the anticipation that the biggest step of her life was but moments away.
“Good. I won’t be a moment. Stay here,” he ordered.
Rosamund watched Colin walk away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the mist along the side of the train.
Passersby hurried along the busy platform. They brushed by to the right and the left, and she pulled the fur collar up closer to hide her features from anyone who might recognize her there. Her mother’s circles in society and her father’s in business certainly extended to London. Best not to tempt fate by revealing her plan to any of the Easling family friends until they were well on their way.
Colin had offered to speak with her father, but Rosamund knew how that would go—with the great Earl of Denton tossing the Irish-American circus agent from the mansion stoop by the seat of his trousers. She’d declined the offer and instead packed in secret the night before.
She’d taken her travel papers, enough frocks and hats to sustain her for several weeks’ journey, her Bible, and a photograph of their family before Hendrick had gone to France. Everything else she left behind with a note on the fireplace mantel in her bedchamber. The note her maid was likely reading right at that very moment, with sickened heart and trembling hands.
To take in a very deliberate, calming breath took effort, but Rosamund managed it. However, putting the vision of a harried maid and furious parents out of her mind would take more doing. She adjusted her collar once more, then stared through the curling cloud of steam ahead, waiting for Colin to walk back through it.
More than anything, Rosamund hoped he was right.
Maybe the trip would open her eyes. Maybe traveling to train Ingénue in her new home would change her enough that Rosamund could return home and become the mistress of Lord Brentwood’s grand estates. And, just maybe, contentment would claim her somewhere along the way.
Colin reemerged then, and her thoughts sailed back to the trip ahead.
Rosamund instinctively smiled.
That is, until she noticed that he wasn’t alone, and the smile that had so freely taken over her features faded almost as quickly.
The form of an impeccably dressed woman emerged from the mist alongside him. They strolled along the platform, she a vision by his side, confidently falling into step with him. Freely. As if they knew each other quite well.
The woman was statuesque, with olive skin and ebony hair tucked in a sleek, boyish bob under a soft blue cloche. It matched a bright-blue-and-gold embroidered traveling coat. Her lips were poppy red and pressed into an elegant smile. She walked with Colin as if fl
oating along the platform, with a sultry grace that Rosamund had only read about in novels and seen once in a silent film at a picture show in a London cinema. Never had she dreamed that such a beauty could actually exist in real life. And never had she expected that kind of beauty to be strolling in her direction.
Colin tipped his fedora back so he could lean in and say something to his companion over the roar of the train engine. She laughed in response, with a rosy smile that showed off a slight dimple in her left cheek.
Rosamund drew in a steadying breath as the pair approached.
“Saluto.” The woman extended a greeting as they stopped in front of her.
Rosamund smiled through the curiosity piquing her interest, offering a congenial hello in return.
“My, my, Colin. You did not do this young lady justice. She is bellissimo,” the woman exclaimed with a thick Italian accent. “Are you sure she’s not here to join the show?”
“Not exactly. Rosamund is accompanying one of our acquisition horses to Sarasota, to see the mare is trained properly,” he said.
Colin connected eyes with her, but seemed to avoid any questions Rosamund would have posed in hers.
“She plans to return to England in a few months’ time.”
“Will she now? What a shame. I was looking forward to becoming better acquainted.”
Colin turned to welcome Ward, who’d run up behind their group with a ready smile and a half-eaten, wax paper–wrapped sandwich in his hand. He tipped his woolen newsboy cap up off his forehead and looked to Colin.
“Stock’s all tucked in. We’re ready to go,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich with nonchalance.
The woman tipped her eyebrows, as if she were skeptical of something, but kept silent.
She turned her attention from Colin to Rosamund, smiling down on her with lovely long lashes that framed twinkling eyes. She possessed slight lines that creased at the corners as if she’d favored others, just like Rosamund, with thousands of polished smiles before.
“Lady Rosamund Easling.” Colin’s voice was even, but tinged with a layer of something Rosamund hadn’t noticed in him before. Indecision maybe? She hoped she hadn’t judged it correctly. “This is Bella Rossi—one of the Rossi Family Flyers. They have top billing in the show.”
“Lady Easling?” Bella questioned.
Ward took the opportunity to jump in, nodding with enthusiasm. “Right. She is an actual lady. Can you believe it? Daughter of an earl with a doozy of an estate in Yorkshire.” He leaned in to Bella’s side, whispering with his sandwich in hand, “That’s just north of here.”
Bella narrowed her eyes at him in a slight glimmer of superiority.
A piece of bread drifted from his parcel to the ground, just grazing the polished edge of her black wingtips. Bella looked down at it, then returned her glare to his face. It was subtle, but enough that Rosamund caught the instruction for him to step back.
“Uh, Ward—” Colin issued silent disapproval with a slight shake of his head.
“But it’s just Rosamund now, Ward,” Rosamund said, offsetting Bella’s more severe reproach with an air of lightness to cut the awkwardness. “I think the mention of estates will become far less important as England fades with the train tracks behind us.”
“Buona, dear. A pity that your title means nothing in the United States. But no doubt you’ll encounter that truth soon enough when we arrive in New York. I’m sure this trip will prove most instructive.”
Bella’s counter was so swift, yet laced with syrup, that Rosamund was taken aback at the contradiction between her words and the inviting smile on the lips from which they’d escaped.
And in truth, she hadn’t considered until that very moment how different it would be to enter a world where the title of earl’s daughter carried very little weight—or none at all.
“Instructive. Yes, I’m sure it will be,” she repeated, keeping her reply congenial despite the bold veil of condescension Bella had drawn between them. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rossi. I look forward to our travels.”
Bella let out a lusty laugh, exclaiming, “Molto innocente! She’s just as you described, Colin. And so English. I cannot remember the last time anyone has called me Miss. This is a treat!”
Rosamund flashed Colin a questioning glance, which he avoided by coughing into his palm.
“We’re all set. Porter’s got the trunks and the conductor’s ready to go,” he noted, steering them back to the journey before them. He reached for Rosamund’s bag.
“So you are really joining us after all?” Ward piped up. “We’ve managed to clip you from England? Well, Florida will be the better for it when you set foot on the circus grounds. We’ll have to show you around. Introduce you to the rest of the performers you’ll be working with.”
“It’s not like that, Ward,” Colin corrected. “She’s not staying.”
Ward’s smile faded ever so slightly, showing he had been hopeful. “But I thought you said she was a bareback rider.”
Bella’s nose tilted up. “A bareback rider?” She wasn’t interested in hiding any disdain for Rosamund this time.
“She is, Ward,” Colin corrected. “Just not in the manner of a performer.”
“I am a rider, but I’m only accompanying my horse to see that she’ll be properly looked after,” Rosamund clarified, though not feeling altogether confident about it in the moment. “Then I’ll come back to my life here, Mr. Butler.”
“So you’re not joining up?” He looked genuinely disappointed.
“Not officially. No.”
“That would’ve been the berries. You’d love the show. It’s magnificent. The Big Top goes up in under four hours, but it can hold thousands of spectators. Can you believe it? A real canvas city moseying from town to town with animals and acts of all kinds. There’s nothing like it in all the world.”
Rosamund was grateful for Ward’s enthusiasm, especially given the strange air of awkwardness that seemed to have overtaken the platform.
All of a sudden the trip felt like a mistake.
A step far too drastic for a Yorkshire earl’s daughter. The trepidation Rosamund had buried in her midsection grew by leaps and bounds now, turning her stomach into a cascade of swirling butterflies. She stared at the backdrop of London behind them, wondering if she should—or could—possibly turn back now.
“It’s time to go,” Colin stated, snapping her back to the moment. “Our car’s right here. Ladies? Ward?”
Rosamund watched, keenly noticing that Bella placed a hand on Colin’s elbow as he led them to the train. Something was amiss, she just hadn’t the slightest inclination what it was.
Her oxford heels seemed to sink into the platform, holding her back.
“Mr. Keary?”
Colin turned, almost as if expecting Rosamund to question why the temperature around them had changed so suddenly. Bella and Ward turned too, halted, and looked to Colin. He paused long enough to whisper something, and they proceeded to the car. He waited until they’d latched the door behind them, then turned back to her.
“It’s against my better judgment to tell you this, but under the circumstances, I assume you’re looking for an explanation.”
“Not an explanation, really. It just feels as though something’s amiss. Am I wrong?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I’m not sure I understand what this is.” Rosamund paused, searched his face, noting the unmistakable shades of empathy that had fallen over it.
“Bella has been with the circus for several years. She’s our biggest star—a celebrity in the States. I hate to say it, but that kind of notoriety means the star isn’t always welcoming to a newcomer.”
“A newco
mer? But we just told her I’m not joining up permanently.”
“Of course. There are just some business matters of the circus happening behind the scenes. It has nothing to do with you, okay? I’ve told her you’re only accompanying Ingénue to America. But the Rossi family is notoriously private and can tend to be protective of their act. I don’t think she bargained on traveling with a performer—part of the show or not—whom she’d just met.”
He shifted his weight ever so slightly.
“Are you changing your mind?” she dared ask.
“No,” Colin replied immediately, shaking his head. “I just want you to be sure you know what you’re doing. That you’re stepping on this train because you really want to, not because you’re running away. And certainly not because you’re walking into this with eyes closed.”
Fear crept up the length of her spine. Rosamund swallowed hard, feeling the first tinges of panic she’d allowed herself now threatening to draw tears in front of him.
“I think I’m doing both, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t go back now. Not when I’ve burned every bridge I have. My world is not like yours, Mr. Keary. It’s not the circus. Or America. Easling Park exists on routine and propriety. At its center is a manor fraught with rules, and as a woman living in that world, I’ve broken every one of them by coming here today.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“It took nearly every ounce of courage I have to come this far. I’ll need all I have to see this through.”
Colin looked from the train back to her, his speech stunted by whatever it was he wouldn’t say. That explained nothing about why he was battling such discomfort in the moment.
He sighed, frustration evident.
“What Bella said is true: in America, English titles won’t mean what they do here. In truth, she will continue to see you as beneath her.”
The forthright manner of his admission felt like a shot of ice water to the face.
“Beneath her?”
Colin nodded, even squinted his eyes with a twinge of empathy.
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