“Your dress is perfection, Miss Fitzpatrick. If I were proficient with verse, I’d write a sonnet about this gown.” His eyes raked over her as he made his pronouncement. As he straightened he looked squarely at Joseph, whom he had met at the Cotillion a few nights back. “Oh, Lafontaine, you’re here. Rumor has it you brought some horses to New York from the frontier. I’d like to see them.”
Basil clamped Joseph on the shoulder as he answered William. “Yes, Joseph did indeed bring some horses with him. I’m not really a qualified judge of horseflesh, but these are fast, beautiful animals. Are you interested in buying a new one?”
William snorted at the suggestion. “My steed is the best money can buy. My father decided an Army horse wasn’t good enough for me, and presented me with a thoroughbred Arabian horse when I graduated from West Point. Perhaps we could race my horse against one of old Joe’s here and see who comes out ahead.”
Basil rose to the bait. “I think a horserace would be a capital idea! Why don’t we plan on it in July, when we all go to the country?” Basil continued.
“Why wait? We could meet tomorrow at Hangman’s Tree and race through the park,” said William.
Joseph objected. “The park is crowded during the day with buggies and people. It would be foolish to race there.”
“Are you calling me a fool? I think you’re afraid you might lose.”
Basil replied anxiously, “Joseph makes a good point about the park. It is generally packed during the day. In fact, I know Ginger and Mother are planning to take the carriage out tomorrow. Perhaps, if you were exercising your mount in the morning, you could meet up with them? I’m certain Mother would be happy to give you some insight on the route they plan to take.”
As they took their seats for dinner a few minutes later, Ginger’s gaze flickered over William briefly, and then settled on Joseph. Her lips parted briefly and her cheeks flushed. She moved her eyes away, and then back to him again.
William forced her attention away from Joseph as he began to speak to her. “Miss Fitzpatrick, it is settled, Joe here and I are going to race our horses. It should be the highlight of the Independence Day weekend at the Hamptons. Perhaps we could raise the stakes even further to include a private dinner with you for the winner?”
Ginger had read the society columns that claimed William had already selected her as his bride. And, considering his rivals, Quentin and Richard, he was probably correct in his thinking. After all, he had a solid career as an Army officer. His uniform accented his hardened physique, earned by years of discipline and exercise at West Point. But then Basil arrived with Joseph in time for the ball, and diverted her attention. Now William was forced to endure this dinner in Joseph’s honor, and to watch as he was toasted and fawned over. Ginger almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“I’ll confer with Mother on the proper etiquette of a private dinner with a single man and let you know, Officer Davenport.”
“Did you know the Opera House is putting on a performance this weekend?”
Ginger answered, “Yes, I am aware of it. The family plans to attend on Friday evening.”
“Perhaps you’ll have room in the family box for me? I have not been able to procure a ticket. It’s sold out, I’m afraid.”
“I, uh, I’m not sure. Mother?”
“Of course we have room in our box for a military man, Officer Davenport. We would welcome you, if you’d like to attend with us.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, for your generosity. I’ll plan on it.”
William nodded slightly at Joseph. But Joseph merely raised an eyebrow. Ginger caught the exchange between the two men, and wondered what was going on. William had annoyed her long enough, though, so she gave herself the prize of looking at Joseph, just for a moment. When her gaze flicked back to William, he had a sour expression on his face. Uniform or no, there was no comparison between the two men.
She then turned her attention to Richard Douglas, the duke’s son, who was regaling the guests on either side of him with a description of his father’s land holdings in England. Ginger supposed he was pleasant enough to look at, with his light brown hair, blue eyes, and dashing clothing, but his body reflected his aristocratic upbringing — thin and pale. His melodious voice and accent, however, highlighted the culture and fine education he had been privileged to receive. But it’s not as soothing as Joseph’s French-imbued speech. She sighed softly and stole another glance at Joseph.
And then, there was Quentin. She let her eyes wander to him. She much preferred talking to his father, Charles Gray, who sat on her left. It was a shame Quentin had inherited none of his father’s cleverness or personality. Or his backbone, for that matter.
She turned to the elder Mr. Gray. “Mr. Gray, how are your railroad investments holding up?”
“I took your advice, Ginger, when you first began pushing railroad stocks at me, and I’m proud to say the Pacific Railroad should have track laid between St. Louis and Jefferson City later this year. The big holdup was a massive bridge they had to build over the Gasconade River, which is now finished. The railroad is planning a huge celebratory train ride for all its investors later this year. Frankly, I’d like to see St. Louis, where Basil spends his time.”
And Joseph as well, she thought. Again, she looked at him.
Joseph was paying attention to Elizabeth, of all people. Here she was, practically falling out of her dress in an attempt to capture his interest, and he was listening with rapt attention to her best friend who had declared to Ginger her undying devotion to Cedric just last night! Elizabeth was telling Joseph some inane tale about how she tripped over her dress and nearly fell into some bushes on her way here to dinner. Her dress may have a stupid train, causing her near-tumble, but the neckline was nowhere near as plunging as Ginger’s own. So what did Joseph find so appealing? Suddenly, Ginger couldn’t wait for this dinner to end.
The final toast of the evening soon followed. Joseph was welcomed to New York by everyone at the table, and Ginger was finally able to stand up. She waited until Joseph’s gaze came her way, then she leaned over the table before rising from her seat, giving him an ample view of her assets. She watched with amusement as his eyes widened, and then narrowed, at her. Take that, Joseph! She stood and took William’s proffered arm before heading back to the parlor.
Chapter Nine
Elegantly crafted carriages lined up for blocks in front of the newly rebuilt Opera House to discharge their passengers. Instead of Jenny Lind or Henrietta Sontag, tonight the patrons were excited to see the great French actress Rachel, who was gracing an American stage for the first time. Her performances had been sold out for weeks.
Ginger and Elizabeth sat in the front row of the box, along with Ginger’s parents. The girls were admiring the gilt on the ceiling and the Venetian plaster reliefs adorning the crown of the room and the walls. A huge chandelier filled with hundreds of candles gleamed brightly overhead. In truth, they were using the gilt and chandelier as an excuse to throw their arms about and talk excitedly, hoping to attract some attention from the crowd below.
“Oh, look, Ginger. There’s Richard Douglas. And his friend, Cedric Smith. My goodness, they’re waving at us!” Elizabeth giggled. “Isn’t Cedric handsome? I do love the way that one lock of hair falls over his forehead like it does. Don’t you just want to brush it back for him?”
Ginger frowned at her friend. “Did you happen to notice it is the only lock of hair left on the top of his head? Goodness, the man is nearly bald! Please don’t do anything to encourage him.”
“Don’t be so stuffy, Ginger. You’re beginning to sound like my mother.” Elizabeth looked again at the two English gentlemen and waved back enthusiastically, nearly falling from her chair. “I do hope they come up here at intermission, so I can hear his lovely accent once again!”
Ginger laughed before she replied, “I love your enthusiasm, but should you not be a little more reserved? After all, you don’t want to make Cedric think he has a
chance with you. Your father has already said he’ll not welcome a penniless Brit into the family.”
“Hang my father. I find the thought of adding a titled young British fellow to the family exciting, especially if the young man is Cedric Smith!”
• • •
Basil and Joseph walked through the gilded hallway of the Opera House on their way to the family’s box. Basil said to his friend, “You’ll have to keep an eye on Ginger tonight, Joseph. I’ll be distracted watching my latest conquest up on the stage.”
“You only met Mademoiselle Rachel last night, Basil. I would hardly consider an evening’s amusement a conquest.”
Basil gave Joseph a wink and a sly grin. “Ah, but you don’t know what we did during last evening’s amusement. I’m surprised the woman has the stamina to perform tonight. She was a French delight. I’m so glad you broke the ice by speaking her language to her. But, it was obvious from the start I was the one she was interested in. Sorry you missed out. Ooh la la.”
“You are welcome to your actress. I have no interest in her. And, as for your sister, I have no doubt she can handle herself just fine without either of us rushing in to save her.”
“Maybe so, but the men who are making plays for Ginger seem to be a bit unruly, especially that young Cavalry officer William Davenport, so it’s best we keep watch.”
“Yes. Let us discuss Cavalry officer William Davenport. Why did you encourage him when he brought up the idea of the horserace?”
“I apologize for putting you in a tough spot. Had I known how quickly he would react, I would not have agreed. Can you imagine, he actually wanted to race through the park? It was all I could do to get him to agree to hold off until we go to the country.”
“And now I am forced to push my horse to his limits to satisfy this senseless challenge. It is all so unnecessary. After all, we are not chasing buffalo.” Joseph shook his head.
“No, and again, I’m sorry. With any luck, William will be otherwise occupied this evening, so we won’t have to put up with him.”
“I do not think our luck will hold. He does not seem to be the type of man who lets an opportunity slip through his fingers. He went out of his way to invite himself here tonight, so I doubt we will be lucky enough to avoid seeing him this evening.”
Basil and Joseph entered the box quietly, and watched the two young ladies run their hands over their dresses and fuss with their jewelry, much to the delight of the young men who were watching from adjacent boxes and from the floor below.
Ginger turned in her seat and glimpsed the two men standing at the back of the box. Smiling, she rose gracefully and made her way to them. Her green dress complemented her eyes. Her hair was caught up in curls, in a show of fine craftsmanship by her talented maid. Each curl was held in place by small emeralds. Matching stones dangled from her ears. The dress fell off her shoulders, revealing her swell of bosom, which was accentuated even further by an emerald necklace.
“Basil! Joseph! How nice to see you again.” She kissed her brother lightly on the cheek and took Joseph’s hand, feeling the sparks race up her arm as her fingers touched his dark skin. “Come, sit with us.” She tugged on Joseph’s hand, pulling him forward.
“Elizabeth and I were just talking about the upcoming horserace at Roslyn. We’re so excited at the prospect. How do you feel about it, Joseph?”
“I feel it is foolish and childish, much like the young man who suggested it.”
Perplexed, Elizabeth said to Joseph, “But Officer Davenport is so dashing. I mean, with his uniform, and all. Do you feel your horse is at a disadvantage, then?”
Ginger sputtered, “Of course he doesn’t. Joseph’s horse is going to win!” She looked at Joseph. “Won’t he?”
Joseph glanced at the two young beauties before he replied. “I came here to sell my horses and have accomplished my mission already, except for two of them. One I plan to take back to St. Louis with me. So I am left with only one to sell. I do not need a race to draw attention to my horses, or to myself, unlike Officer Davenport. Any man who knows horseflesh can tell mine are superior.”
“See, Elizabeth, I told you his horse will win!” Ginger said. “Elizabeth is picking Officer Davenport’s horse to win, but I am backing yours.”
Joseph nodded briefly at the compliment before Ginger continued, “But why are you taking one back to St. Louis instead of selling them all here?”
“Because I plan to ride back home on horseback. I do not like these railroads.”
“Frankly, I can’t wait to ride the train to St. Louis. It’s going to be my reward for behaving myself through the season.” She smiled at Joseph and Basil.
Before Basil could reply, a voice broke through the din. They glanced around to see William Davenport entering the box, in full military dress. They stood as William greeted Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Ginger, Elizabeth, and the two men. As the theater began to darken, they all took their seats. William snuck into the seat next to Ginger where she’d hoped Joseph would sit. Joseph said nothing, and took a seat in the row behind them, where he could watch every move William made.
• • •
At intermission, Joseph stood silently at the back of the box. Basil had stepped out for some stronger refreshments than the lemonade provided in the box. He also wanted to greet other friends whom he had spotted and had not yet talked to since his return from St. Louis. And Joseph knew he was hoping to get backstage during intermission and steal a kiss from the lovely Rachel. The box was crowded as people milled around, saying hello to George and Charlotte, or, if they were younger, stopping by to see Ginger and Elizabeth.
The ladies were among the most popular of this season’s debutantes, and the parade of young gentlemen had not ceased all during the break. Joseph kept watch, as Basil had requested, thinking he much preferred the mating rituals of his mother’s people. A young Indian man, before taking a woman as a wife, first had to prove he could take care of her, which meant demonstrating his strength mentally and physically. He must take part in a buffalo hunt and go through the manhood challenges, including a vision quest. After those rites of passage, a young Indian male needed to assemble gifts to take to his chosen one’s father. The more comely the maiden, the more gifts he needed. A man could take months assembling a cache of presents to exchange for his wife, consisting of bison meat, deerskins, horses, and furs.
Joseph looked around at the pasty faces and soft bodies of the men in the box, and thought none of them would have been able to survive the most basic of Indian rituals. He grabbed a glass of lemonade as the waiter made his way through the box. He waited.
And watched.
William took Ginger by the hand and led her to a corner. She seemed to go willingly enough to begin with, until she realized she was about to be trapped. She turned, only to discover he was mere inches away from her, with an arm on either side of the wall at her back, corralling her into the corner. Joseph quietly glided over near them.
“Officer Davenport, what are you doing?” Ginger’s eyes widened as she realized her dilemma. She grabbed his forearms and tried to push him away.
“I’m only trying to capture your heart, my sweet. It’s too difficult to express my feelings for you if you never allow us time to be alone together.” He attempted to lean in and steal a kiss from her, but Ginger dodged his lips and he kissed the air next to her ear.
Surprised by her adroitness, William growled, “So, you like to play hard to get, do you? Well, I like things a little rough myself at times.”
He narrowed his arm span on either side of her, and boldly moved his mouth toward her plunging neckline. Ginger stomped on one of his feet in protest. He let out a yelp and backed away a few paces. Ginger quickly skittered around him, freeing herself from the corner, just as Joseph appeared at her side with a glass of lemonade.
“Here is the lemonade you requested, Miss Ginger.”
He handed her the glass and gazed into Ginger’s eyes. He then looked at William, who glared
at him. Joseph calmly returned the glare of the young man before turning his attention back to Ginger.
She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Joseph, for the refreshment. Perfect timing, for I’m absolutely parched. The second act is about to begin — we should take our seats.”
Joseph maintained his stance until William turned to follow Ginger back to their seats. Joseph took his seat immediately behind them once again, being certain to bump William’s chair slightly during the remainder of the performance, reinforcing the fact that he was being watched.
Chapter Ten
May, 1855
The two Englishmen, Richard Douglas and Cedric Smith, huddled over the roughly hewn table at a small tavern off Broadway. As Cedric raised a foamy mug of ale to his mouth, Richard’s hand came down on the table.
“Damn it, Cedric. We are running out of time. It’s already been two month’s worth of dances, that boring opera, and calling on young ladies in their parlors at tea time — and we have gotten nowhere.”
“I know,” Cedric said as he rubbed his stomach. “It seems there’s not a good scone to be had in the Colonies.”
“I’m not talking about food, you oaf. If we don’t make some progress toward finding a wealthy young American woman who wants to be affiliated with English royalty, we are doomed! Our fathers will yank us home in another month or so, and we will have to live in poverty.”
“What do you suggest? Surely, we’re doing all we can.”
“Well, since our natural English charm seems to be falling on deaf ears, we need a strategy. Our two best bets are Ginger Fitzpatrick and her sidekick, Elizabeth Martin.”
“Yes, I agree. I rather fancy that Elizabeth Martin,” Cedric replied.
“And both of their fathers have loads of money, so we can continue to live the lives to which we are accustomed, should we marry one of them.”
Becky Lower Page 6
