Evelyn shook her head. “No, never.”
“Then he hasn’t embarrassed you in public. Good. Rather than wasting your time on jealousy, think about what has driven him away. If his home were a welcoming haven, Charles would seek it more readily. If he comes home only to be confronted by a suspicious, pouting wife, he’ll escape whenever he can. Do you understand?”
“But, I thought, perhaps if you talked to him—”
Alma cut Evelyn off with a quick shake of her head. She lifted her teacup and took a dainty sip before continuing. “As a mother and head of this family, my role is to raise and guide my children. I made sure Charles received the finest education possible, and Lavinia was trained in every aspect of suitable deportment. My children lacked for nothing.”
Evelyn noticed that Alma didn’t mention Will.
“Finding an appropriate spouse for each child was a matter of the utmost importance,” Alma continued. “The future of the family depended on it. I couldn’t force a marriage upon my children—nor would I have wanted to—but I could make sure they met and socialized with suitable partners. Both Lavinia and Charles were introduced to society in Philadelphia and New York. I knew they had the looks and breeding to marry into families far above ours.
“Lavinia understood the importance of making the right match. She had her favorite dance partners, of course, and like any young woman she had her head turned by handsome men with no prospects. But these were only passing flirtations. When it came time for marriage, she chose Winslow Preston. Was he the most dashing young man or the richest? No. You can see for yourself that he’s rather plodding and dull. But he comes from one of Baltimore’s best families, and his honesty has never been questioned. I approved of Winslow from the beginning, and Lavinia could see that he would make a good husband.”
Evelyn wondered how much choice Lavinia had had in the matter. Would she have preferred a husband who wouldn’t be mistaken for her father? Then again, although Lavinia was certainly pretty, she lacked the confidence to compete in the cutthroat world of New York heiresses. She looked to Alma for every decision, and if boring old Winslow was her mother’s choice, Lavinia would have never dared object.
“Then there was Charles,” Alma continued. “He caused a stir wherever he went. He could have married anyone.” Her eyes met Evelyn’s, and the disapproval in them brought a warm blush to Evelyn’s face. “Instead, he chose the daughter of my dressmaker.
“Please understand that I don’t mean to insult you,” Alma added smoothly. “I merely ask that you consider the situation from my point of view. Charles could have married into any family, and he knew where my preferences lay. He chose to disregard my advice and make a grand gesture of his own. I have no doubt he was infatuated by you. Charles has always longed for what he can’t have, ever since he was a child. In many ways, you were the ultimate forbidden prize.”
Evelyn reached for her teacup and clutched it with both hands.
“You ask if I can change my son’s behavior,” Alma went on. “I am the last person whose advice he will heed. If I tell him to do something, he will do the exact opposite to prove his independence.”
Evelyn nodded, staring down at her tea. Turning to Alma had been a terrible mistake. Now her mother-in-law knew her marriage was troubled, but would do nothing to help.
“Come now,” Alma said, pushing the plate of pastries across the table. “All is not lost. Surely you don’t need me to explain the ways a wife may recapture her husband’s attentions?”
Evelyn shook off Alma’s offer of food. All she could think of was her disastrous attempt at seduction. The evening that had ended with Will kissing her in the garden.
“Charles is always on the hunt for novelty and amusement,” Alma said. “He’d spend more time at home if you offered some diversions.”
“A dinner, perhaps?” Evelyn asked.
“That would certainly be appropriate,” Alma said. “Only have Charles approve the guest list. You want the right people.”
“Yes, of course,” Evelyn agreed. “Perhaps even a party. Charles will be turning thirty next month. That calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”
“What a charming idea,” Alma said. “It must be done right. I would be happy to offer my advice on the menu and decor.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Lavinia and Will can help as well.” Evelyn blurted out his name without thinking, and saw Alma stiffen at the mention of her older son.
“Lavinia has far more experience entertaining than Will,” Alma said. “I wouldn’t think his input would be needed.”
Once again, Alma’s disapproval mystified Evelyn. Will was her eldest child, a man with more charm and kindness than Charles. So why did Alma treat him as a distant, unsavory relative?
There was one possible explanation. Perhaps there was a secret in Will’s past, something terrible he kept hidden. The man Evelyn loved might be an illusion. But she couldn’t allow herself to believe it. Her whole world—already on shaky ground—would come crashing down.
“Are you certain?” Evelyn asked, keeping her tone light. “Surely, as Charles’s brother, Will should be included in the plans?”
“They may be brothers, but they’ve never been close,” Alma said. “You’ve seen that for yourself.”
“Yet no one has explained the nature of Will’s transgressions,” Evelyn said. She softened her words with a smile, her expression one of curious innocence.
Alma smiled back, equally insincere. “Will is my son, and I love him,” she said. “However, he is irresponsible and has disappointed me on numerous occasions. He takes a passionate interest in one thing for a month, then moves on to another. Nothing lasts. A few years ago, he was engaged to a lovely girl from a fine family. Yet he broke off the engagement with no explanation and disappeared to Europe, leaving us to tidy up his mess. It was mortifying, to say the least.
“When he returned home, I hoped he would embrace his family duty, but I have seen no evidence of it yet. Should he choose to accept a role at Brewster Shipping, marry and settle down, I’m sure all would be forgiven.”
Forgiven but never forgotten. Will would always be at Charles’s beck and call. His wife would be expected to answer to Alma. Evelyn knew Will would never live under such restrictions.
“Perhaps this party could help reintroduce Will to society,” Evelyn suggested.
Alma nodded slowly. “Yes, I think a party might serve all our purposes.” Looking at Evelyn intently, she said softly, “I’m not heartless. I remember what it is to wait for a husband who doesn’t come home. But feeling sorry for yourself accomplishes nothing. You must lure Charles back. It is the only way.”
Alma stood, a clear signal that the meeting was over. “I’ll send you some names for the guest list, if that would be helpful.”
Standing and nodding goodbye to Alma, Evelyn found herself excited at the thought of going home and starting preparations. Alma was right. She needed something to occupy her time. Frightening as it might be to put together a huge party, it was also an opportunity. A chance to show Charles and Alma that she could live up to the Brewster name. Her feelings for Will wouldn’t change, but they could be hidden. For now, her duty was to make Charles happy. Perhaps, if she found the right approach, her husband might even fall in love with her again.
FOUR WHIRLWIND weeks later, the night of the party arrived. Evelyn paused for a moment in the foyer to take stock of it all. Music drifted from the upstairs landing, waiters with trays of champagne circled around women in colorful gowns, the buzz of conversation and laughter enveloped her. Based on the first half hour, the evening was already a triumph.
She turned to Charles, standing beside her near the door. He looked so handsome, with his immaculate tuxedo and confident smile. He greeted his guests with practiced elegance. Evelyn was glad she’d invited a photographer to the house earlier to take their picture. In her elaborate hairstyle and expensive gown, she finally looked worthy of her husband. That moment would be captured forever, a memory
of the night when they were the envy of the county.
“What is she doing here?” Evelyn heard Alma hiss. Evelyn had initially been annoyed when Alma planted herself in the receiving line next to them, but her mother-in-law had been unexpectedly helpful, whispering names to Evelyn so she could greet her guests properly.
“Who?” Evelyn murmured, peering discreetly down the line to see who Alma found so offensive.
“Lady Dorchester,” Alma whispered, putting a disapproving emphasis on the first word. “A title by marriage, not birth. I can’t imagine why she was invited.”
“Hush, Mother,” Charles admonished. “She’s staying with the Wiltons, so she had to be included. Ah, good to see you, my boy!” he said, grabbing a slender young man by the hand. He introduced Evelyn to Henry and Alice Wilton, along with their houseguest. Lady Dorchester was shorter and rounder than Evelyn, with bright, lively eyes. Her neck and considerable cleavage were draped in diamonds.
“Who is she?” Evelyn asked, after the guests had moved on.
“She divorced her first husband,” Charles said, pursing his lips in disapproval. “That makes her a harlot in Mother’s eyes, but her second husband, the duke, is enormously rich and well connected. Not to mention a half-senile invalid. However, a royal title forgives a multitude of sins. Having her at our party could be seen as quite a coup, my dear.”
Evelyn smiled and said nothing. It was now acceptable to socialize with a fallen woman? She had much to learn.
“Ah, look who deigned to make an appearance,” Charles said. Evelyn turned to see Will walking toward them.
“Happy birthday, Charles,” Will said, shaking his brother’s hand. “I see you’re celebrating in style.”
“Indeed. My wife has quite outdone herself.”
“So I see.” Will turned to Evelyn and took her hand lightly in his. She hoped he would kiss it, but he let go quickly, keeping his distance from her. They’d barely spoken in the past few weeks, other than casual conversation at family dinners. She had done her errands in Baltimore alone, afraid she might weaken if he accompanied her.
“I’m glad you could come,” Evelyn said. She smiled warmly to show it was more than polite hostess talk.
“Thank you for keeping your disreputable brother-in-law on the guest list,” Will said. He looked around at the crowd. “You did it. Good for you.”
Evelyn nodded, glad to have his approval.
“You even look like a Brewster,” Will said. Something about his tone made her doubt he intended it as a compliment. Before she could respond, another guest had walked toward her, Charles was making an introduction and Will had disappeared. Even as she pushed aside her disappointment, she was grateful for his discretion. He understood how important this night was for her.
She didn’t see Will the rest of the evening. She looked for him occasionally in the throngs of people whose names she still couldn’t remember, but she never found him.
Evelyn didn’t see much of Charles, either. After leading her in a waltz when the orchestra started playing, Charles joined some of his colleagues for cigars in the conservatory. Evelyn danced with the ancient husbands of Alma’s friends, who gave her the admiring glances she’d hoped to receive from Charles.
Still, the party was a success. Evelyn had proved herself to Alma’s snobbish friends and Charles’s stuffy business acquaintances. Tonight, no one could deny her place here. She was a Brewster at last.
It was well after midnight when guests began to leave. Evelyn stifled a yawn as she stood in the foyer and thanked groups of people for coming.
She motioned to Mr. Trimble, the gardener, who’d been pressed into service retrieving coats and ladies’ wraps.
“Have you seen Mr. Brewster?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “That is—I did see him go upstairs, but that was some time ago.”
“Thank you.” Evelyn wondered if she should track him down. He wouldn’t appreciate her interference, but he was the guest of honor, after all. He should bid his guests farewell personally.
Evelyn made her way upstairs to her bedroom, walking carefully in her voluminous skirt. The lights were off, and the room was empty. She glanced quickly down the hallway, but there was no reason for Charles to be in any of the other rooms. Indeed, she would have gone downstairs without another thought if she hadn’t heard an eruption of laughter, a high-pitched sound that she interpreted at first as a muffled scream.
Evelyn took a few steps forward. The lamps hadn’t been lit, as this section of the house was rarely used. But in the shadows ahead, she could see the shapes of two figures leaning together against the wall, and something in that silhouette was immediately familiar. She recognized Charles even before he walked toward her out of the darkness.
“Darling!” he exclaimed, taking her hands. His cheeks were flushed, and his voice boomed with unnatural heartiness. “I believe you’ve met Lady Dorchester.”
Despite her reputation, the woman had remarkable poise. She sauntered forward confidently, daring Evelyn to suspect anything. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Brewster. I simply insisted your husband show me around.”
In the dark? Evelyn wanted to shout her accusations at the pair of them. But she had no proof, merely a glimpse of two people standing too close in a deserted corridor.
“Charles, it has been a pleasure,” Lady Dorchester said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “It’s time you tended to your wife. She looks exhausted.” Lady Dorchester’s mocking laugh echoed in Evelyn’s head even as she turned and ran to her bedroom. That laughter was the sound of victory.
Downstairs, a single violin was playing. The chattering of voices had softened to a gentle hum. Evelyn knew she should be standing by the front door, graciously seeing off her guests. Even now, they would be wondering why their hosts had disappeared. Her absence would cast a pall over an otherwise perfect evening.
But Evelyn couldn’t face them. This party, intended to save her marriage, had instead revealed its true nature. Charles would play the faithful husband in public, even escort her across a dance floor from time to time. But in the shadows, out of sight, he would give himself up to temptation. He had so little respect for his wife that he would insult her in her own home. If this was the future of her marriage, she didn’t see how she could bear it.
Only one thing might help her get through this night. Wiping away her tears, Evelyn pulled herself upright and opened the drawer of her bedside table, where she kept a box of monogrammed stationery. Will had told her to write if she ever needed him. Now, she wanted nothing more than to pour out her feelings to him. Will would not expect her to meekly accept the situation. Will, she realized, was the only person who might be able to think of a way out.
CHAPTER NINE
ALISSA AND DANNY drove past the winding driveway of Roger Blake’s house twice before they found it. From the road, the house was hidden behind trees and giant shrubs, a secretive location that only reinforced Alissa’s doubts about the man. When she’d called to ask about his book on unsolved crimes, he’d insisted they talk in person, refusing to give any specifics over the phone.
“Maybe he’s one of those wackos who thinks his line is tapped,” Alissa told Danny afterward.
“You want me to come with you?” Danny offered. “I’m sure he’s harmless, but if it would make you feel better…”
“It’s probably a waste of time,” Alissa protested. But at the thought of Danny at her side, her misgivings about the trip faded. “But you’re welcome to tag along.”
As Danny steered his truck along the twisting country roads, Alissa was glad she’d accepted his suggestion. Danny drove with the relaxed ease of someone who had traveled these routes countless times before, and Alissa was free to daydream as they sped past fields dotted with wildflowers. After they finally tracked down Roger’s house and parked in the driveway, Alissa was reassured by the building’s immaculate white clapboard facade and bright red shutters. Flowers had been planted in neat rows on ei
ther side of the path leading to the front door. It certainly didn’t look like the home of an unstable conspiracy theorist.
Roger Blake turned out to be nothing like she’d expected. Instead of a twitchy, nervous eccentric, pale from lack of sunlight, the man who opened the door looked healthy and vigorous. He wasn’t much older than Alissa, with thick auburn hair and the ruddy complexion of someone who spent time outside. He flashed a delighted smile and grabbed her hand with a firm grip.
“Alissa. So glad you came. Such a pleasure.”
Alissa turned to Danny. “This is Danny Pierce, my, uh…” She was about to say “friend,” but stopped abruptly. It might give Roger the wrong idea.
“Handyman,” Danny said with a smile.
“He’s helping renovate my house,” Alissa explained. “The one where the Brewsters used to live.”
“Come in, come in,” Roger urged.
Alissa and Danny followed him down a short hallway and into a large room filled with well-worn armchairs and a mismatched assortment of side tables. But what caught Alissa’s attention immediately were the piles of papers covering every flat surface. Roger was clearly a man obsessed by his work. Alissa wondered if he’d insisted she visit because he was starved for human contact. Danny flashed Alissa a look that seemed to say, “This guy’s crazy.”
“I’m so sorry,” Roger apologized, pushing a stack of books off one side of a couch. “Please, sit. I’ve made iced tea—would you like some?”
“Sure,” Alissa said. As Roger disappeared into the kitchen, she squeezed into the narrow open space on the sofa and glanced at the books piled next to her. Jack the Ripper: Case Closed. Shakespeare: Man or Myth? Crime and Punishment in Medieval Europe. Danny carefully lifted a pile of folders off a chair across from her and placed them on the floor so he could sit. He raised his eyebrows at Alissa, and she shrugged.
“I hope ginger-peach is all right,” Roger said, emerging with three cut-glass goblets. “I’ve had to give up caffeine completely. I was downing coffee like you wouldn’t believe, and then I wasn’t sleeping, and things were getting a little shaky, so I went cold turkey.” If Roger was this chatty decaffeinated, Alissa wondered what he’d been like before.
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