“The flowers were an unnecessary complication.”
Arthur was suddenly blocking his view of Catherine, and Will concentrated on focusing his gaze on his benefactor rather than let it stray back to the object of his affections.
“This situation,” Arthur continued, his eyes hard and cold. “It will only hurt her. How can you not understand that?”
If only he had been able to talk to her first, Will thought. It was all a mess now, and he couldn’t begin to know how he would be able to spare Catherine’s feelings.
“I want to tell her everything, and I had planned on it, but there’s been no opportunity.”
Arthur’s eyes closed for a brief moment and Will could see that he was having difficulty remaining calm. What was it like, Will wondered, to have someone care so much about you that such overprotective feelings came that naturally to them?
“I see that you’ve lied, although I don’t know to what extent. You’ve had plenty of opportunities, in spite of my efforts to keep you apart. She is trusting and innocent, and has no experience in these matters. I won’t let you take advantage of her.”
The crowd was thinning out as guests moved towards the ballroom, and Will found himself pressed closer to Arthur, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to strangle him. Where had Catherine gone, and if those girls had told her who he was, was she as upset as it looked to him, or was he making more of her response to their chatter than there actually was?
“I want to make things right. I want . . .”
“Do you hear what you’re saying?” Arthur interrupted. “You want, you want. This has always been about what you want. I don’t know why you’ve been lying, and how much of what you’ve told me and everyone else who has helped you since you showed up in Newport has been a lie, but it’s all self-serving. If you’d owned up to it right away, this would end differently. Waiting until you are no longer getting what you want from those lies . . .”
“Don’t you understand? I see the look on your face when your talk about your wife, I know you understand love.”
Will knew he was speaking louder than he should, and faces he had never seen before turned to look at him curiously.
“Don’t you dare speak of my wife.”
Was Arthur actually going to strike him? Will wasn’t going to wait to find out, and more importantly, wait until Catherine heard even more about him and the truth of his past and identity. There was so much more to it than his last name, and the evidence was in newspapers that were happy to improve their circulation statistics by passing on the details of high society escapades, the more lurid the better. If Catherine heard his full name, she would undoubtedly be familiar with his irresponsible behavior. He was not the sort of man with whom she would wish to keep company; or at least he had not been before the night the storm brought him to her.
“I’m not the same person I was before I met you. Please. I love her, and I have to find her.”
He craned his neck and scanned the heads as far as he could see, but Catherine and Sarah were nowhere in sight. Their parents were there as well, and would undoubtedly be watching both girls. He turned around as well as he could in the press of bodies, and by chance noticed a flash of pink near the front door.
“I am sorry, but I have to go. I hope you will give me the chance to explain everything to you, but your sister’s forgiveness is more important to me right now.”
Arthur’s voice rose above the rest of those around him, but Will shoved his way through the oncoming crush anyway, wondering how in the world Catherine had made her way past them all as he and her brother were talking. He wasn’t sure that he had seen Catherine, but there were no other gowns of that color, and if he was wrong there was nothing he could do about it. Any chance was better than none.
Mrs. Van Alden stopped him suddenly, her arms on his. She wasn’t smiling.
“What have you done?”
Will wanted to stamp his foot like he had as a child when frustrated. It was as if there was a conspiracy to keep him from reaching Catherine. There was, of course, but he hadn’t imagined that Mrs. Van Alden would become a part of it.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to find someone and . . .”
“I know who you are looking for, and I don’t know if it is a good idea to speak with her at the moment.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
“I don’t know if it is, either, but I do know that I’m in love with Catherine Davenport, and I need to tell her. No matter how she responds. Please let me go.”
Mrs. Van Alden released him, the shock at such honesty clearly written on her face. Before he moved past her, he noticed the small smile that had replaced her discouraging expression. Perhaps she believed there was some hope, and at least he knew for certain that it was indeed Catherine who had gone through the front door moments earlier.
He ignored every attempt at conversation the newcomers made towards him, uncaring of their judgments, and finally wormed his way through the open door. Catherine was speaking quietly to the Davenport footman, and he was looking at her as if she were someone incredibly important. She was, Will thought, knowing in his heart that she was the most important person in the world to him. He almost fell down the steps in his effort to reach her before she stepped into the carriage, unwilling to draw more unnecessary attention to her by calling out.
“Catherine.”
The footman gave him a withering look, and Will couldn’t blame him. When Catherine turned to face him, her face was damp with tears, her gray-blue eyes shining as if she was about to shed more. He reached out and pressed the palm of his hand to her cheek, and to his surprise, she didn’t pull away. The warmth of her skin and the sorrow in her gaze made him want to be closer to her, and when he closed the distance between them with a step, she didn’t back up. Instead, she reached up and placed her gloved hand over his, and he sucked in a breath.
“How long have you known that you are William Travers?”
Her voice was low but steady, a contradictory strength that seemed disconnected to the tears that spilled from her eyes and over their hands, and their gazes locked.
“Always,” he whispered, knowing that it was a terrible thing to admit, that he had lied for so long and gained so much from those who believed him.
She pulled his hand gently from her face and let it go as her own came to rest by her side. When she turned away, the flash of the white rose waking him from the silence that had followed his admission, he reached for her again but she was stepping into the carriage, and the footman, who was no older than Will, narrowed his eyes at him. Will blinked the tears from his own eyes, the party in the house behind him forgotten, and watched the carriage take the girl he loved from him, perhaps forever.
Catherine couldn’t remember ever feeling so exhausted, and it all felt like nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Surely Will, her Will, wasn’t the awful Travers boy who was always wandering around drunk in Manhattan, dodging his family’s responsibilities after the stock market crash? There were whispers that his father had committed suicide, and when the stories of his inappropriate behavior began to circulate, she felt sorry for him. His mother had died years ago, and now his father, in such a terrible fashion - no wonder he was out of sorts. Out of sorts was a bit of a misnomer though, as he continued to provide material for gossip, and while he had never committed any crimes or done anything but embarrass himself and his uncle, who was his only living relative and taxed with bringing his wayward nephew to heel, he was certainly a man society mamas warned their girls about and kept them from. He was devilishly handsome, though, according to the girls who had met him, including the Martindale sisters and the Hartley twins, all of whom had swooped in on her and Sarah as soon as they had finished greeting their hosts.
“It’s the Travers boy! He’s been in Newport all this time! I can’t believe you haven’t met him already!”
“He’s just as attractive as everyone says! Not very friendly, but no
matter. His uncle says there’s still money, even after the crash. I wonder which of us he’ll like best!”
Catherine had been confused at what they were all saying, and the unbelievable number of people talking and laughing around them hadn’t helped. The Travers heir was in Newport? How had that escaped their notice? Surely the servants would have found out and passed along such information.
“Your brother doesn’t look too happy to meet him, but then again, Arthur is a very upstanding man.”
Sarah glanced sideways between her head and Catherine’s, following Miranda Martindale’s stare behind them.
“Oh, Catherine.”
When she felt Sarah’s hand in her own, it suddenly became very clear who the Travers heir was, and why no one knew he was in Newport. She also understood what it was Will was going to tell her, although she didn’t see why it mattered now. Everyone else knew already, and now she did, so there was nothing to talk about. Surely if he had thought she should know before now he would have told her before the rest of the town, and the rest of society, indeed. All the descriptions, though, of how he wasted his time, and his life, in a drunken stupor sounded nothing like her Will, who was working with Mr. Van Alden now, and had spent weeks with Arthur, helping those in town who needed assistance but could not afford to pay for home repairs or other aid that Will and Arthur were able and willing to provide.
Their friends were squealing and Sarah was whispering something in her ear, but Catherine didn’t understand what she was saying.
“I have to go.”
She pulled free of Sarah’s grasp and although she felt her sister’s hand on her shoulder, kept moving away, ignoring the greetings of friends and acquaintances, the movement of the crowd against her, until she reached the side of her hostess. Mrs. Van Alden, in the midst of welcoming an older couple into her home, turned immediately to Catherine as the pair moved away, smiling.
“What has happened?”
Her concern almost broke Catherine’s hold on her emotions, but it wouldn’t do to start crying in front of everyone, and it wouldn’t help, either.
“I am sorry, but I’m not well. I’m going straight home, if there’s any question. I hope you won’t take it as a slight, as it isn’t meant to be one.”
Mrs. Van Alden pulled her into an embrace, surprising Catherine.
“Take care of yourself.”
The older woman let go and looked Catherine over quickly but carefully, then shook her head.
“I am very sorry myself. Perhaps there is more to this than it seems. I pray it is so, and also that you feel better soon.”
Catherine bobbed her head respectfully and swallowed her tears back. She wasn’t sure what Mrs. Van Alden meant, but she also wasn’t sure of anything right then. She watched the footman run to open the carriage doors as she approached, his frown undisguised.
“Miss?”
They had only just arrived, it was true, and he wouldn’t have been expecting any of them to leave so soon, or individually. She knew that she had lost control of her tears when she saw his eyes widen, and he looked behind her suddenly, his jaw set as if for battle.
She couldn’t believe Will had found her and followed her as she tried to escape what he must have known was a terrible crush of truth. What else could he possibly do now, she wondered, facing him and immediately feeling sorry for doing so. He looked so helpless, and yet, he was the Travers heir, known to all, apparently, except her. He had fooled them all, but how much? She had to know, although was wasn’t sure what difference it would make as to when he had remembered who he was, and why he hadn’t told her as soon as he knew. Asking him was a dangerous risk, but she did it anyway, and his answer was worse than any she could have imagined.
He didn’t try to stop her as she turned from him and carefully stepped into the carriage, determined to maintain some sense of dignity in light of what she had just found out. It had all been a lie, from the very moment he claimed memory loss. There was nothing he had ever said that she could believe now, and knowing that all those stolen glances, the whispers and brief touches, the kiss only last night, and the sweetness of the roses that had made her so happy only hours earlier, were part of the larger deception was devastating.
As the carriage rolled away, Catherine folded her arms tightly across her middle and bent over, sobbing into the satin layers of the pink dress that had made her feel so attractive earlier, when her thoughts were of Will and their future, of her desire to see his face when he saw her and the hope he would think she looked pretty in the gown as she had never cared what any boy had thought of her before.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Catherine wanted to stay in bed for the rest of her life.
It was bitterly cold, past the chilly days of autumn when the leaves blew in gusts outside of her bedroom window. The snow hadn’t made an appearance yet, as Sarah had predicted the week before as they had prepared for the Van Alden party, but it would soon, and everything was damp and slippery underneath her feet whenever she stepped outside, which hadn’t been often since she had returned from that same event, alone and uncaring what her parents would think about her leaving unchaperoned and without their consent. To her surprise, however, both of them had said little about it, as if explaining her absence to their friends was no hardship or embarrassment, which it must have been, at least for her mother. She was beginning to feel as if she didn’t give her mother enough credit for knowing how to navigate the social aspect of their family life, especially with Arthur’s unorthodox marriage, Sarah’s temperament, and her own refusal to meekly accept the marriage her parents thought the best fit for her.
Perhaps they did know better, considering that her own heart had led her astray. Love clearly wasn’t what was best for her, since she was a terrible judge of character and Will had gotten the best of her, even down to stealing her first kiss.
She groaned and rubbed her fingers over her eyes. Too cold to get out of bed, too tired to bother facing everyone yet again, knowing how stupid they must think she had been to fall for Will’s charms. Even the servants knew, as they knew everything, but all they did was continue to smile politely and ask what she needed from them. It had never mattered before, their opinion of her, but somehow now it did. She wanted Annie and Becky, Maddie the housekeeper, Harry the footman - she wanted them to think well of her, as if she was worthy of their service. Of course they were paid, but she wanted to be respected, and being a silly girl with poor judgment wasn’t going to get her far in that direction.
“Your mother says you must get up now, Miss Catherine. Everyone is going for a drive, and she expects you to go along.”
Annie bustled about, tugging at the blankets on the bed impatiently. She knew Catherine well enough to know that she wasn’t actually sleeping, so there was no point in trying to pretend otherwise. Catherine sighed and rolled onto her back, flinging her arms out to the side.
“Tell her I’m ill.”
Annie fisted her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“I won’t lie to your mother, Miss Catherine. Besides, it would do you good to get out in the fresh air.”
Freezing air was more like it, Catherine thought. She had to admit that she didn’t feel as terrible as she had the first couple of days after Will’s secret was out, and her mother had been correct when she told her, in a very brief conversation the next morning, that she would feel better with time. She hadn’t believed her, but was too tired to argue. Pray, Arthur had offered in a whisper as he hugged her that same day, just as her father had shaken his head sadly at her, at first she thought in disappointment, but when he hugged her, she realized that he had not wanted to see her so sad.
“Miss Josie is going, if I understand what I overheard correctly.”
Catherine sat up at that, and stared at her maid.
“Don’t you always overhear correctly?”
Annie huffed and turned away, heading towards the wardrobe of gowns.
“What else have you overh
eard?”
Annie paused for a brief moment as she began to push the dresses around, but Catherine noticed, and waited for the girl to answer in her own time, for she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist telling what she knew.
“I shouldn’t carry tales, but it has to do with your gentleman, so maybe . . .”
She turned her head and looked at Catherine over her shoulder, a handful of a lace-trimmed sleeve in her arms.
“He’s been here, more than once. Mr. Arthur won’t see him, but your father had spoken with him, just a bit. Maddie says he’s looks like someone kicked his dog.”
Catherine held the blankets up close around her as if to ward off something more than a chill. Why should she worry about Will, when he deceived her as well as everyone else, and now she knew exactly how much. She was the only one who knew, so maybe he was worried she would tell and make things worse for him. He was still employed by and living with the Van Aldens, as far as she knew, so they must still think he had truly lost his memory. She had no idea what plans he had with his uncle. To be the Travers heir was something important indeed, with a legacy in name even if the fortune was diminished, although not as much as Will had thought months ago. She didn’t understand what had motivated him to lie, except to get away from that life, where he had so much to live up to. Still, he was still here in Newport, when he could just go back to the City and his uncle rather than work with Mr. Van Alden. She knew how much he enjoyed that work, and how much he had liked helping Arthur. Maybe it wasn’t all a lie, but it had started with one, so that was just as bad. Wasn’t it?
“Miss Catherine. Did you hear me?”
She couldn’t daydream about him. She just couldn’t.
“No, I’m sorry, Annie. I don’t want to go out today, so just choose something for around here. Before you say anything, don’t worry about Mother. I’ll tell her myself so you won’t get yelled at.”
Crown of Beauty Page 16
