by Dina Sleiman
This time Constance raised a brow.
“I’ve been watchin’ from the parlor. You’re a mighty fine dancer, Miss Cavendish. Maybe someday you can teach me a few a those fancy steps, and I can teach you some of mine.”
Tears sprung to Constance’s eyes. This woman was so like Sissy that it hurt. If she had never taught Sissy…But letting her mind wander in such a direction would serve no purpose. She had a party to attend, a job to obtain. “Run along and get those supplies. We’ll chat while we work. I can’t wait to see the improvements you will make.”
Now if only the twins didn’t botch matters and end in a jumble of blue and pink skirts again.
* * *
The musicians warmed up in the ballroom as the guests, bedecked in their elegant attire, mingled in the parlor. Constance wore her butter-colored evening gown that gathered to a jeweled enclosure beneath the bosom. The fitted part of this gown hit about an inch too low to be truly fashionable. Fortunately, Charlottesville society seemed unaware of that fact.
Constance estimated fashions here must run about five years behind the times, which was perfect for her because her newest dresses were five years old. But she felt like a princess with her elaborate new coiffure á la Martha. Copper curls surrounded her face, and she’d even let her new friend add a hint of color to her cheeks and lips. Her face had looked far too wan in the mirror next to Martha’s beautiful burnished skin, but a touch of rosy tint corrected the situation.
Dinner had just finished. Soon, she and Robbie would lead off the dance, but she hoped to speak with him first. She caught sight of him as he emerged from the dining room, handsome as ever in a frock coat and formal trousers.
Constance stepped into the hallway to greet him. “Mr. Montgomery, I’m so glad to find you.”
“Miss Cavendish. To what do I owe this warm greeting?”
“I wish to talk for a moment before the dance.”
He looked unsure, but answered, “Of course.”
She led him to a cushioned brocade bench against the wall, and they settled side by side.
He shifted to face her.
Not knowing where to start, she spat out, “I met Jimbo today.”
“You did?” The uncertainty on his face slipped into true concern.
“No, no. I liked him. Very much. Do you remember my maid—Sissy?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, I never told you. I’m not sure I’ve ever told anyone, but she was my closest friend.”
A spark lit Robbie’s eye. “As Jimbo was mine.”
“Yes.” She rushed forward before she lost her courage. “And I realize it matters little now, but I wanted you to know, I hold nothing against the abolitionist cause. After the slaves left and Papa died, I was overwrought, not in my right mind. I’m afraid I gave you a mistaken impression.”
Robbie paused to consider that. “Then Jimbo explained the rest.”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind. It’s a brave choice you’ve made. And I wanted to let you know that I respect you for it.”
Robbie took a deep breath but remained otherwise placid. “Well, at least it’s nice to know not everyone in Albemarle opposes me. I’m glad we’ve cleared this up. It will make things easier between us.”
Constance’s heart clutched in her chest, although she could not account for why. She had already decided that they would never be more than friends, but part of her must have held out hope that once Robbie knew the truth…
How ridiculous. “Yes, I think we can be friends now. Don’t you?”
“Friends. Of course.”
“Robbie. Miss Cavendish. Where are those two? It’s time to start the dance.”
“We’re right here in the hallway, Mother.” Robbie offered his arm and led Constance to the ballroom where the Beaumonts, Pattersons, and Sugarbakers awaited. Only that Lorimer fellow had yet to arrive.
As they took the center of the dance floor, Robbie smiled at Constance. It was a sincere and open smile. She was happy to see such a smile on his face for the first time in five years.
All her nerves and disappointment slipped away. With Robbie at her side as a friend, she could do this. A sense of buoyancy washed over her. Tonight she would allow herself to dance like the old Gingersnap Cavendish, with passion and abandon. Just in time to dazzle Albemarle society.
Once Mrs. Beaumont called out the dance, Constance laid her hand upon Robbie’s, drawing strength from his masculine calluses while sparks snapped between them. Somehow the touch of his work-roughened fingers affected her far more than the soft skin she recalled from half a decade earlier. As the music began, she found herself lost within it, but lost also in the spicy scent of Robert Montgomery, lost in the curious gaze of his sky blue eyes, lost in the memory of waltzing through the library.
His fingers grazed her back as he looped her in a spin.
Lost.
CHAPTER 10
Patience pushed away from the dinner table where her family and Mr. Franklin still sat. “That was wonderful, Grammy.”
“Aye,” agreed Mother. “If we must all miss Constance, at least we needn’t miss her cooking.”
“Well, she learned summat from me.” Grammy coughed.
Mr. Franklin placed his napkin on the table. “Let us not speak of missing Miss Cavendish. I think of little else day and night. This evening, I plan to enjoy the fine company of the remaining Cavendish ladies.”
“Agreed.” Felicity glowed at him with a degree of admiration that Patience found amusing on the fifteen-year-old. It seemed Mr. Franklin could have his choice of Cavendishes, other than the one he desired.
“Anything to put a smile on your pretty little face, Felicity.” Mr. Franklin chucked her under the chin as he might one of his young students. His use of her first name clearly indicated he thought her still a child.
The more Patience considered an alliance with Mr. Franklin, the more her heart—oh yes, she did possess one, although she would not be ruled by it like Constance—the more her heart warmed to the idea.
She turned to the new object of her affection, wondering what it might feel like to run her fingers through his silky hair. Looking into his soft, brown eyes, she noted the intelligence and depth dancing behind them. “Mr. Franklin, I’ve been suffocating in the mercantile all day and barely found opportunity to enjoy the lovely spring weather. Might you consider escorting me for a walk?”
“Escorting?” Confusion covered his charming, bespectacled face.
“Yes, as in standing beside me, perhaps offering an arm?”
“You, Miss Cavendish?” A spot of pink filled each of his sculpted, hollow cheeks.
“What a delightful idea.” Mother stood and gathered the dishes. “Patience could use an outing, and I do hate the thought of her walking alone.”
Felicity crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, shooting signals to Patience that she chose to ignore. The chit was far from ready to court. She hadn’t even put up her hair yet. And with behavior like that, little wonder Mr. Franklin thought her a child.
“Why, of course.” Mr. Franklin stood. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to suggest it myself. It’s a perfect evening, and I do so enjoy our conversations, Miss Cavendish.”
“Allow me a moment to fetch my hat and gloves.” Patience sashayed out of the room, as Gingersnap might have once upon a time. But when she turned back to glance at Mr. Franklin, he stared out the window, scratching his head.
She hurried upstairs and donned her prettiest bonnet with the creamy flowers that brought out the blush in her cheeks. Pinching them for good measure and biting her lips, Patience pulled on her gloves and headed back down before Mr. Franklin could change his mind.
He stood in the crate-sized entry room, awaiting her as she descended. “Shall we?”
Patience fluttered her eyelashes as she recalled Gingersnap doing so expertly. “Indeed, Mr. Franklin. I can’t tell you how I’ve longed for this moment.”
He studied her as if she were a sc
ience experiment gone awry. “Have you something in your eye, Miss Cavendish?”
“I don’t think so.” She patted at the corner of her eye to cover her faux pas. Drat! Had she performed the maneuver incorrectly? Why hadn’t she thought to practice in the mirror?
“Can I help you with your shawl?” Mr. Franklin indicated the coat rack by the door.
“No, thank you.” A shawl would most certainly not serve Patience’s purpose this evening.
They stepped out into the twilight, and Mr. Franklin offered his arm as they left the porch.
Patience tucked her hand into his elbow and allowed the fingers of her other hand to trail along the hedges in a manner she hoped appealing. As they headed down the cobblestone lane, she wondered what it might be like to have her own townhome with Mr. Franklin. “Do tell me what you’ve been studying at school.”
He stood a bit taller. “You know me well. I enjoy the inquiry as much as the teaching. I’ve been especially taken with Mr. Young’s theories of light and colors.”
“Ah yes. I’ve read his Course of Lectures on Natural Philosophy. Fascinating as I recall.”
“Indeed. To think that light travels in waves and not in particles as Newton convinced the world.”
“But it is still a theory, Mr. Franklin. I allow myself to make no assumptions without complete factual verification.”
“This is what I appreciate about you, a woman of science and reason. A woman after my own heart, I must confess.”
Perfect, just the opening Patience sought. “We are quite well-suited to one another, don’t you think?”
“Miss Cavendish, I always count you among my dearest friends, and if I may confess a secret to you…”
“Yes,” she prompted.
“I often dream that someday you might be my sister.”
“Oh.” Patience tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“Yes, my own sisters perished years ago of a terrible fever.”
She turned to search his face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Franklin. How did I not know this?”
“I hate to bring up such a sad subject in front of Miss Constance. I wouldn’t wish her to think me melancholy.”
“Of course. May I ask, how fares the rest of your family?”
“It is only my uncle and me these days. And I fear he is not long for this world. I have mixed feelings about taking on his school by myself. It’s a wonderful opportunity, but I don’t quite feel up to the task without him.”
Patience patted his arm. “Then let us hope he shall stay with you for many years to come. That would be a lonely life indeed.”
“I’ve grown accustomed to loneliness, I’m afraid.”
Patience should like to put an end to this man’s loneliness. “I didn’t realize, Mr. Franklin. You are welcome to join us for dinner anytime, you know. You needn’t await an invitation. Or even to spend time in the afternoons. Let us forgo all formalities. I should like you to consider yourself part of our family.”
“Miss Cavendish, you’ve no idea how I’ve longed for such an offer. I don’t know what to say. I almost feel I should apologize for growing so dreary. But I’m comfortable sharing such things with you.”
“As you should be. Such openness makes me feel quite close to you.”
They walked for a few moments in companionable silence. Patience noticed a white house with gables ahead. Perhaps someday she could share a home like that with Mr. Franklin. Bear him some remarkably intelligent children and banish his loneliness once and for all.
She snuggled in closer to his arm.
“Are you cold, Miss Cavendish? I knew we should have brought your shawl. Do you need my coat?”
“No, no. I felt a bit of a chill, but I’m warm now that I have moved in closer proximity to you.”
His mouth gaped for a moment, and then he closed it and shook his head. “Amazing the way the body conducts its own heat. Don’t you think?”
“Fascinating. I’ve long wished to examine the process of heat.”
“Ah, I shall lend you my studies by Fourier.”
“Do they explain, by chance, why certain bodies respond with a tingling warmth when in contact with certain other bodies?”
Mr. Franklin looked at her in wonder.
Patience infused her gaze with all the heat she could muster.
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Franklin stepped back. “Have I said something to make you angry?”
Patience blinked away her attempt at passion and laughed. “Not at all.” She stared straight ahead and focused on the street. “Whatever gave you that impression?” Were her skills of flirtation completely lacking, or was this man as dense about love as he was knowledgeable about science?
She suspected the latter.
Mr. Franklin scratched his head with his free hand. “I hope you will forgive me saying so, but you are rather confusing tonight, Miss Cavendish. In this you remind me of your sister. I’ve always thought her the most delightful conundrum. Have you noticed that about her? I’ve studied her as I would any mystery of the universe.”
Patience forced a smile as Mr. Franklin droned on about the merits of her sister. This pursuit might prove more difficult than she’d initially assessed. She cut off his rambling. “So you would agree that you do not know Constance as well as you might wish.”
“I do not, but I hope to. To know her as companionably and completely as I know you.”
“Yes, I suppose Constance is difficult to unravel. You might be surprised by what you find underneath the surface.” It would do no good to malign Constance, but if Patience could perhaps plant a seed of doubt…
She would need to progress slowly with Mr. Franklin. While Gingersnap might have been the one known for her headstrong ways, Patience was endowed with her own sort of quiet tenacity. She would be persistent and live up to her name.
And she would win Mr. Franklin for herself.
* * *
Constance stumbled into the hallway. The blasted dance set with Robbie had lasted nearly a quarter hour. She sank into the cushioned bench in the shadow of the curving staircase and pressed her head back against the cool wall. It was astounding that after five long years Gingersnap Cavendish could still overtake her so utterly and completely.
She should be inside watching the girls. Her entire future depended upon their performance tonight, but she needed a moment to compose herself.
Every feeling, every emotion she’d once held for Robbie rushed back during that dance, flooding her entirely. Her lips tingled under his seeking gaze. Her hand trembled upon his. Why oh why hadn’t she worn her gloves? Her heart beat erratically in her chest, and no amount of coaxing, no chanting of mantras, would quiet it this time.
She would not—she could not—let this man break her heart again. Family, reputation, employment. And although the words held no sway over her errant heart, they cleared the swirling thoughts and pressing imaginations in her head.
No, she couldn’t allow herself to dream of a future with Robert Montgomery. Her heart could not bear the consequences. Friends. She had determined they would be friends. At that moment a knock upon the front door offered distraction.
She pressed herself deeper into the shadows. The door clicked and Samson spoke in uncharacteristically warm tones. “Ah, Mr. Lorimer. So glad to have you this evening.”
The sound of a solid clap met her ears, as if this Mr. Lorimer gave Samson a companionable slap upon the back. “Happy to be here, my friend,” a rich voice boomed through the hallway.
“Your coat, sir.” A rustling ensued, piquing Constance’s curiosity.
“Thank you, Samson. What do you think?”
“Fringe, sir?”
“Not good?”
Unable to resist, Constance leaned forward to catch a glimpse. She couldn’t see Samson, only most of the man called Lorimer standing nearer the wall. Holding out his hands for inspection, he wore fringed buckskin leggings with a brown frock coat overtop.
“No? Really?” Lorimer
lifted a reddish-gold brow over pale blue eyes and offered an adorable little boy grin from his rugged face.
“I’m afraid not, sir. Perhaps Mr. Montgomery wouldn’t mind if you borrowed the entire ensemble. Come. Let’s find you something to wear.”
As Lorimer turned the corner to mount the stairs with Samson, an essence of charm and virility lingered in his wake. The initial knock on the door had distracted her from dwelling upon Robbie. But for a moment this man allowed her to forget her dreams of a life with Robbie. He was the ideal diversion, an enigmatic figure to occupy her mind and her time. She simply must meet this fellow of the buckskin trousers, whom the Beaumonts counted among their closest family friends.
Yes, this would prove perfect. Not that she’d ever lose her heart to this Lorimer or anyone else. But perhaps a flirtation would serve as protection from her mounting feelings for Robbie.
She would not revert to her old Gingersnap ways. Gingersnap had been a selfish child of sixteen. But perhaps she could let a hint of the sizzle, the heart shine through—just enough to catch the eye of this Lorimer and hold it for the duration of her stay.
CHAPTER 11
Steps sounded above her. Constance pinched her cheeks and stood to pat down her gown.
She turned the corner as Lorimer descended the stairs, dressed in proper cream-colored trousers to match the brown frock coat. Robbie’s outfit stretched tight over his muscular form, and the pants likely fell short of his ankles beneath the boots, but he cut a striking figure nonetheless.
“Oh my!” She feigned surprise. “Well, hello.”
Lorimer’s eyes, crystal like a shimmering stream, lit the moment they met hers. “Well, hello to you, pretty lady.” A hint of close-trimmed whiskers surrounded his crooked grin.
Constance giggled and fluttered her lashes in full-blown Gingersnap form before she caught herself. Perhaps she could let this play out of its own natural accord after all. “You must be Mr. Lorimer, our tardy guest.”
