She blinked—her brain had gotten stuck on the word announcement. “What are they announcing at six thirty, again?”
“The engagement, of course.” He rolled his eyes and sped off into the backyard that extended to the street behind them.
Engagement.
Lydia had been wrong. Either David wasn’t going to wait for time to erase his feelings for her, or they hadn’t been anywhere near as strong as she’d thought.
Though the wind had a warm undertone, her limbs turned to ice and her feet froze to the stoop.
What should she do? Could she just walk away without seeing him, without letting him know? Would he want to know? Maybe, but what kind of person would she be to ruin another woman’s life? Surely Marianne had to have feelings for him. How could she not if David was her best friend?
The servant returned with the empty bowl, and his mouth screwed to the side. “Are you not going in?”
“Could you tell me if Miss Lister seems happy?”
Oh please, God, have him say he doesn’t even know who Miss Lister is.
The man nodded. “I haven’t seen her this happy in ages.”
She closed her eyes and staggered back. She’d come all the way to Kansas City for nothing.
The servant grabbed her by the arm. “Are you all right?”
She nodded with short little jerks but refused to open her tightly shut eyes lest she disgrace herself with tears. She wanted David to be her dream come true, but not at the expense of another’s. Maybe this was why God had kept the detective away until after she’d refused David.
Releasing the air she’d held, she extricated herself from the man’s grasp. “I’m all right. Go on in ahead of me.”
After one last look, he scurried in, likely worried he’d be reprimanded if he remained outside any longer.
Now what was she supposed to do? Hadn’t David said he didn’t want to marry Marianne? Was he engaging himself because he was too hurt to resist the pressure his father was likely plying on him?
Oh, if only one decision in her life could be easy!
Voices behind the door grew louder, and someone turned the knob, so Evelyn rushed past the door before it flew open, then followed the flagstones to the backyard.
Thankfully there was a beautiful garden to hide in, where she could think—but for no more than thirty minutes!
The sky was getting dim enough that the lights inside the windows illuminated the crowd.
How could she possibly stop things now?
A bench near a hedge appeared, and she made her way there. Thankfully it was warm enough that she could concentrate on something other than being cold. The wooden slats gave a bit beneath her, and she placed her elbows on her knees, her hands folded against her chin.
If she was in David’s situation, what would she want? Of course, she didn’t know what he felt for her now—or for Marianne, exactly—but interrupting their engagement party . . . ?
A flash of white appeared to Evelyn’s right. A woman afloat in a gown of yellow and white was picking apart an orange flower, likely a calendula this late in the season.
Evelyn leaned back to try to blend in with the bench—as much as a blue dress could blend into wood anyway.
The woman smiled at her but quickly stiffened. She looked her up and down twice. “Are you lost?”
She shook her head while looking back down at her lap. She wasn’t physically lost at least.
“Mind if I sit?”
Evelyn glanced at her again. The dress this woman wore was fine, and the jewels around her neck very much real—and she wanted to sit with her?
Though it shouldn’t surprise her that David surrounded himself with friends who wouldn’t tilt their noses up at those beneath them. He’d so willingly sat on the ground with her and the children that first Saturday, as if men in three-piece suits always ate with people most would consider unfit to shine their shoes.
She scooted over so the woman had space for her wispy, layered skirt.
The lady flicked the flower’s spent stem onto the ground. “So what brings you out here?”
Why couldn’t this woman be one to appreciate companionable silence? “I couldn’t go in.”
“And I had to get out. It’s extremely hot in there. Too many people.” She rubbed at the slight yellow tinge on her fingers before putting her gloves back on.
Evelyn sat forward and stared at her knees. How she wished she had Lydia or Momma here right now. They’d help her figure out what to do.
God, help me decide how to proceed. I can’t think with this woman beside me, so could you make things easy and hit me with something unmistakable?
“Are you all right?” the woman beside her asked.
With such a huge decision looming over her, how could she be?
“You’re holding onto the bench as if you’re afraid you’ll be blown away.”
She let go of the bench and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Forgive me.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
She shook her head. Though she might do something to hurt David, one way or another. As if doing so two weeks ago wasn’t bad enough.
“I haven’t seen you before. I don’t know what you know about the Kingsmans, but the younger one is well known for being adamant that everyone, no matter their station, is to be treated well. So if a servant or guest here is manhandling you, you should tell your superior. That is, if they aren’t the one bothering you.”
Of course David was wonderful enough to stick up for his chambermaids. “It’s more of a personal dilemma, actually.”
“So nothing to do with work?” Her voice turned suspicious. For why else would a servant be out here doing nothing?
“No, I . . .” What did it matter what she told this woman? She’d likely never see her again. “I’m out here trying to decide if I should tell someone something or keep it to myself.”
“I’m a good listener, if you’d like. Since I don’t know your name, our conversation could do you no harm. Just leave out the particulars and maybe I can help.”
The woman’s voice held such sincere warmth, how could she not believe her?
Perhaps God had just sent her His answer—a listening ear.
“It’s about a man.” She sighed.
“Of course it is.” The woman’s words dripped with understanding. “Love tends to give us all fits.”
“Fits is an understatement.”
“Do you know how this man feels about you?”
“Yes. Well, I did.”
“And does he feel the same as you do?” At Evelyn’s nod, the woman turned to see her better. “So why hesitate to tell him your feelings? I’m assuming that’s your secret anyway.”
“Because when he offered his hand to me, I told him I was married and turned him away. But circumstances changed.”
The woman hmmed, likely realizing with her choice of words, she wasn’t a widow. “And now you want him back?”
“Yes.” She shrugged despite the fact that there was no uncertainty in her answer.
“How long ago did he offer for you?”
“A little over two weeks ago.”
The woman stiffened. “Well, that was quick.”
Quick, and oh, so very long.
“So you left this other man to pursue the new one?”
She cringed. This woman had to be thinking the absolute worst of her, yet she somehow maintained a soothing tone to her voice. “No, he abandoned me years ago. He just failed to inform me he’d gone through with divorcing me as well. I didn’t learn of it until recently.”
“Well, if your new love can’t swallow his pride over being turned down under such circumstances, then he’s not worthy of you.”
“I think I’m more worried I’m not worthy of him. At least his father won’t think so, and I could ruin their relationship if I assert myself.”
“Dear me, I know all about that.” The woman exhaled so hugely the flounce on the front of her dress ruffled. “My p
arents chose to marry for love when they were poor—and they still love each other quite madly—but now that they’ve succeeded enough to flit about the wealthy set, they want me to marry for money and status. Parents are quite meddlesome, aren’t they?”
Evelyn’s heart warmed at the memory of her father hobbling all the way to the train station to pray with her before seeing her off. “Mine are pretty wonderful, actually. They’d want me to marry for love.”
The woman sat back and folded her arms, her expression confused. “Then you should.”
“But what if doing so hurts someone else?”
“I can’t answer that. But are you willing to wonder your whole life?”
And there was her answer. “No. I’ve already spent enough of my life wondering about my position with a man.”
“Oh! There you are, my dear.” An older woman in layers of gray and a mound of pearls weighing down her neck walked toward them so quickly, she’d plow right through them if she didn’t stop soon. “It’s time to come back inside.”
The woman beside Evelyn patted her knee twice. “I hope things work out for you.” She stood and took the older woman’s arm—most likely her mother’s judging from their similar full lips, round jaws, and high cheekbones.
The older woman spent no time turning and swishing them both back the way she’d come. “The announcement is after this song, and you’re out here walking.”
After they were a good distance away, the older woman looked back at Evelyn for a second, then spoke more quietly—but not quietly enough. “And who was that you were talking with?”
“One of the help, I think. Though she isn’t dressed like one.”
“Then you shouldn’t have been talking to her at all.” She tsked. “She should be working, not sitting in the garden. We should inform whoever’s in charge of her whereabouts.”
The younger woman’s voice grew fainter as they got closer to the house, where the low hum of hundreds of voices was muffled by stone and glass.
“Oh, Momma, she was having a crisis. I’m sure she’ll return to work soon enough.”
“You’re always too easy with the help. They’ll run over you if you let . . .” A door opened, and the laughter and conversation of the crowd swallowed the women’s voices.
If the announcement was after this song, she hadn’t time to sit here any longer.
Please, God, help me find him if I’m supposed to, but if all I’m going to do is make a mess . . .
Except, mess or not, how could she live with herself if she never told David how much she loved him?
39
Evelyn opened the big glass doors that seemed to lead into a giant ballroom, and she slipped into the crowd of attendees, hoping no one paid much attention to her.
Where should she look for David first? She hadn’t much time to find him if the stranger and her mother were correct and the announcement would happen soon.
Keeping to the wall, she brushed her way past several people, trying to get somewhere she could see without having to forge into the middle of the floor that people seemed reluctant to traverse. Seems there’d be dancing tonight.
She bumped into a man in a white servant’s coat. She had to look quite a ways up to see him. He had to be nearly six foot four to be that much taller than she, plus a few more inches with all that wavy dark hair atop his head.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“Uh, no.”
“I think you’re lost.” He pointed behind her. “The entrance to the kitchen is that way. Mrs. Humpreys is going to yell at you for coming out here without a uniform.”
“Actually, I was invited here by Mr. Kingsman.”
The man’s eyebrows scrunched, and he scanned her outfit as if she were slathered in mud.
The lady from the garden was right—it was rather warm in here. “I know my dress isn’t exactly appropriate for the festivities.”
The servant sniffed. “Next time, I suggest you borrow a better one so you don’t insult your host. . . . If there is a next time.”
“I-I’m certain you’re right.” What chance did she have of coming back anyway?
Before he could say anything more, she slipped into the crowd. Never before had she been so happy to be a few inches taller than most everyone in the room. If she had any hope of talking to David, she needed to spy him quickly.
If he was sitting . . . well, she’d be too late.
His blond head was nowhere to be seen, but there was a table atop a platform at the end of the room. Surely if the announcement was going to be soon, he’d be nearby. Or at least he’d head that way.
Oomph!
“I’m so sorry.” Evelyn steadied the woman she’d bumped into.
The old lady scowled and fixed her hat, which had slipped backward, exposing perfect little gray pin curls lining her forehead. “You must be more careful.” She looked her over, then frowned again. “Could you get me another glass of champagne?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m on an errand for Mr. Kingsman.”
“He’s over there.” The woman pointed to the right, near the front of the room. “After you attend him, I’d still like champagne.”
She nodded and started off in the direction the lady had pointed, craning her neck trying to catch a glimpse of him. Except, what if the old woman thought she meant his father? But she didn’t see him either.
Wait, there David was, standing to the side of the platform with a group of people.
And she thought her heart couldn’t pitter-patter any harder.
Oh, he was handsome. She’d only seen a man dressed in such a fancy black suit with tails and slick gleaming lapels in advertisements. His white vest shone atop his white shirt, its highly starched collar stiff beneath his chin—very aristocratic. Even Nicholas had never dressed so dapper.
She stopped, clasping onto the wool jacket she wore. She’d look like a ragamuffin next to him.
A woman jostled her from behind and a waiter from the side, but she couldn’t move.
David’s half smile was only too charming as he talked to the woman in front of him. A petite blonde wearing a magnificent turquoise ball gown, with a sequined overlay of dark gray lace. Was that Marianne?
His gaze drifted as the woman started talking to the man next to them, and then, upon spotting Evelyn, he bolted upright and made straight for her.
She couldn’t let him meet her where everyone would see their confrontation. She maneuvered for the wall behind a table full of hors d’oeuvres.
“Evelyn?” His smile was bright and charming for a second, but then disappeared. He stopped just out of her reach, his arms stiff by his sides, looking her over as if trying to ascertain whether or not her limbs were intact. “What are you doing here?”
“I know my appearance isn’t the most appropriate.” She gestured to the frock everyone had frowned at. “But I was hoping to speak to you.”
Up near the small platform, David’s father ascended the small set of stairs and turned to smile out over the crowd with an almost empty glass of wine in his hand.
David turned to look at his father on stage. “I have an announcement I’m about to make—”
“I know.” But if she didn’t talk with him now, it would be too late. “This is so very wrong of me, but . . .” Getting as close as she dared so as not to set the tongues of those behind them wagging, she gripped his sleeve tightly, as if she could tether him there. “I know this isn’t the best time, and this is possibly even the meanest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t let you go up there and make that announcement until I’ve told you what I’ve come here to say.”
For some reason he gave her that stupid, charming grin again. “I don’t think you can purposely be mean, Evelyn.”
“Though what I plan to say could make things harder for you, I need to tell you what I really wanted to say when you proposed, since this may be the last time I can, and I’m free to do so.”
He only looked at her, his expression either indicating he
thought her crazy, adorably amusing, or forever lost to him. Maybe all three.
She stepped in closer, hoping the music and the incoherent babble of a hundred conversations would keep her words for his ears alone. “David Kingsman, I think you are the most wonderful man I have ever met. I’d never been in love with a wonderful man before, and it hurt to not be able to tell you how much I loved you. How much I wished I could be your wife. But the thing is, I just found out I wasn’t even married when you proposed, and had I known, I would have told you what I felt for you then.”
He backed away so he could look at her, his brows and lips puckered. “Your husband was found dead?”
“No.”
And she’d thought David’s face had looked confused when she’d first told him she was married.
“James divorced me six years ago. He claimed I abandoned him so he could marry another.”
“Divorced?”
Divorce certainly wasn’t the prettiest word in the English language, but she’d never heard it sound so terrible.
“I know your feelings for me were likely trampled beyond repair the last time you saw me.” She took a little step back. “And I also know a divorced woman is anathema in your set—your father made me fully aware of that.”
His face grew hard. “My father knew this?”
“Yes.” She looked across the crowd at Mr. Kingsman talking to someone on the platform. “I don’t want you to think I came here to guilt you into jilting the woman you’re about to engage yourself to or proposing again to a penniless divorcee. If I were being objective, I’d not have come at all. But I’m not objective. I’m in love with the best man I’ve ever known and it hurt to know he had no idea how much I loved and admired him. You deserve the love of a good woman, even if that’s not m—”
Dink, dink, dink. The crowd quieted as several others joined in with the clinking of silverware against crystal.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming.” David’s father raised his newly filled wine glass.
A Love So True Page 32
