Love in Three-Quarter Time

by Dina Sleiman

“What?” said Felicity. “Just because you chose to be stubborn and swap about gentlemen does not mean I should not enjoy my evening. Mr. Lorimer gave me his undivided attention, and I felt not at all nervous with him.”

  “That’s because he’s too old for you and entirely unsuitable. He was a dinner companion and nothing more.” Patience huffed, no doubt jealous that Felicity had done better at her appointed duty than she had with hers.

  Constance, however, relished seeing her youngest sister happy. “I think that’s wonderful, Felicity. And you have no difficulty conversing with Mr. Franklin back home either. You simply need to overcome your nerves, and the boys shall be lining up for you as they do for Molly and Dolly. As for you, Patience, you could have gotten Robbie talking of science with little effort. Do so when we return downstairs.”

  “Fashionable young ladies do not discuss science at formal birthday dinners,” said Patience.

  “Why ever not?” Felicity lowered herself onto the vanity stool. “You speak of science with Mr. Franklin at every opportunity.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why is it different?” Constance moved to the bedpost and pressed her cheek to the smooth, polished wood.

  “I don’t know. It just is. And there’s no reason you can’t discuss European dances and fashions with Mr. Sugarbaker. You love such subjects.”

  Constance sighed. “Well then, new strategy. You shall discuss science with Robbie, and I shall discuss dance with the pompous Sir Sugarbaker.”

  “You make it sound like torture,” said Felicity. “Forget about his words and focus on that face if you must. He’d make a lovely portrait. Don’t you think? I wonder if he’d sit for me?”

  “New, new strategy.” Patience winked at Constance. “We prod all the men toward Felicity while Constance and I feign headaches.”

  “Come now, ladies,” Constance rallied them. “We can do this. The important issue this evening is to protect me from Lorimer and Robbie, and you’ve both done a commendable job. I should be thankful and not complain.” As she paused to consider the horror the evening could have been, in truth, boredom proved a small price to pay.

  “Yes, you should.” Felicity tipped her head.

  “Indeed, ungrateful little chit.” Patience lifted her pert nose in the air.

  “I’ll show you gratitude.” Constance pounced on Patience, pinning her to the bed and tickling her mercilessly beneath her arms.

  “All right. All right. I relent. Stop!” Patience sat up. “We can’t stay here any longer, nor can I return looking a fright. Not that Mr. Montgomery would notice. I think I shall try crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue when we talk to see if I can at least get his interest that way.” She went to the mirror and smoothed her hair back into place.

  “Cross if you must. Just keep both men away from me.” Constance’s heart could not bear it otherwise.

  * * *

  Lorimer twirled Felicity in a circle to the beat and then returned his gaze to Constance and Sugarbaker. Constance stifled a yawn despite Sugarbaker’s animated chatter.

  Felicity had proven a charming companion, reminding him of his own youngest sister far away in Maryland with her shy demeanor, bright blue eyes, and red-gold hair. He’d managed to weave spiritual principles into his tales of the Indians, a tactic he must remember for future sermons. She’d clung to every word. And he’d found her fondness for art endearing as well. The girl looked lovely in her muslin gown with her flushed cheeks glowing in the candlelight. She’d make some man a fine wife.

  Yet, in his eyes, she’d never compare with Constance.

  Robbie and Constance had not spoken one word all night, and he’d been so sure that Robbie would step in and court her. What on earth was wrong with that bullheaded man? Lorimer couldn’t believe the fellow had not yet managed this on his own. Could Robbie be interested in Patience? He’d paid her little enough attention over dinner—although they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company now as he sat with her at the fortepiano.

  Perhaps the man was too foolish for Constance.

  Lorimer moved Felicity into a promenade and switched partners at the appointed time to find Constance’s bare, trembling hand in his own. The adorable woman never could keep on her gloves. He smiled. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Constance Cavendish. I must say, while I’ve grown quite fond of your little sister, I can’t help but think that you’re avoiding me tonight.”

  She blinked several times and then looked up at him, her chestnut eyes pleading. “You know I can’t lie to you.”

  He chuckled. “Only to everyone else?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said in plain American speech. “Old habits are difficult to break. It’s odd how much of polite society revolves around falsity and deception.”

  “Sad but true. I claim the next dance, and you and I shall be utterly ourselves. Agreed?”

  She smiled, her trepidation melting away as their easy friendship fell back into place. “Agreed.”

  They switched to their previous partners.

  Felicity appeared relieved to have escaped Terrence and returned to Lorimer. “My goodness, that man is so handsome and cultured. I had no idea what to say. I merely nodded and looked at my shoes.”

  “My thanks,” Lorimer said.

  Felicity giggled. “You know what I mean. It’s different with you.”

  He did know what she meant. Sugarbaker had an intimidating air about him. Lorimer didn’t have an assuming bone in his body. Yet he was well aware of his own charms. He had been chasing away women for years. But what sort of lady would want his life, traipsing through the frontier, poor as a pauper? No, any woman worth her salt would try to tame him, and he had no desire to be domesticated.

  A flash of sunset copper caught his eye. Correction, he’d had no desire to be tamed until he saw Constance dancing barefoot around the fire on the mountain. She pierced a place deep in his heart he’d kept shielded for years. He and Constance shared an unrestrained passion for life and for God.

  And the kiss. He should not have indulged in that kiss. The memory of it lingered in his mind day and night.

  He didn’t understand why God had told him no. Why Constance couldn’t be his. Perhaps he’d misheard, simply been afraid to open that part of himself. Or perhaps he needed to step back to give Robbie one last chance.

  But only one.

  Lorimer believed in free will. Robbie had a choice to make. If he wouldn’t willingly forgive Constance, God couldn’t force the issue. And if Robbie didn’t exert his free will in that direction soon, Lorimer might just exert his own as he had threatened to do when he last spoke with Robbie.

  Once he proved to Robbie beyond any doubt that Constance had changed, if the dunderhead still could not forgive her and open himself to loving her, then Lorimer would claim the beautiful woman and be done with it.

  As the song ended, he bowed to Felicity and moved to find her eldest sister. Matters were far from finished between them.

  CHAPTER 31

  Constance tugged off her leather slippers as she bounced beside Lorimer on the way home from the meeting at the Sugarbaker plantation. She untied her bonnet and stretched her feet in front of her on the wagon’s edge, sunning like a snake.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He flicked the reins.

  “Mmm, perfect,” she said, delighted that matters were open and relaxed between them once again. Though she clearly had not yet overcome her feelings for Robbie, for the time being she would enjoy Lorimer’s companionship and leave the future in God’s capable hands. She needed Lorimer in her life as a friend and a mentor. A friend and a mentor whose rugged profile she still quite enjoyed gazing upon. His sermon today had stirred her as always, although she felt too relaxed to discuss theology at the moment.

  He steered the wagon beneath a shady tree to the side of the road, pulled the break, and turned to face her. “Constance, I have an important subject I must discuss with you.”

  She sat up tall and swiv
eled toward him. He rarely used such a serious tone. “What is it?”

  “I’m certain you’ve realized by now that I’m actively involved in the abolitionist movement.” He removed his hat and sat it on the bench between them.

  “I didn’t want to question you, but I assumed so.”

  “Much as it pains me to do this, I need to ask your help. My contact isn’t due for two more days, and I have to be in Amherst tomorrow.”

  Her stomach clenched. She’d spent years staying out of trouble. Now he would ask her to break the law? But hadn’t she come to realize that serving God had more to do with love and mercy than rules? She cared about his cause, believed in it with all her heart. Still, dare she involve herself in this cause in such a personal manner?

  Images flit through her head. Images of Sissy and Papa. Of James and little Red Bird. Finally the image of Jesus, reaching out to her as the good shepherd, sacrificing his own life upon the cross, and she knew she must help. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Like that. No questions?”

  “Yes, I want to play my part. Words alone without actions speak little, don’t you think?”

  He closed his crystal blue eyes for a moment. When he opened them, admiration shone from their depths. “You are a brave and honorable woman, Constance. I vow not to put you in any danger. I wouldn’t do that to your mother. She needs you. All I ask is that you meet my contact and deliver a letter.”

  “That sounds simple enough.”

  “You must meet him at precisely sunset on Wednesday by the big oak tree at the top of the knoll along Three Notch’d Road, just west of White Willow Hall. Do you know which one I mean?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her heart beat faster as her decision to help became real to her.

  “You’ll see a man approaching in a covered, two-seater buggy. He’ll be wearing an old tricorn hat with a green feather.”

  “But how shall I detect the color at night?”

  “It’s a blaring sort of green. You won’t miss it. Stay in the woods until he’s almost arrived. Then you say, ‘Ca-caw, ca-caw,’ like this.” He demonstrated by putting his closed hand to his mouth and opening his fingers to achieve the desired effect.

  She attempted the call. “Ca-caw, ca-caw.”

  “No, bend your fingers more. Like so.” Lorimer adjusted her hand.

  Constance tried again.

  “That’s it. And he’ll answer, ‘Quack, quack.’ At which point, you should call out, ‘Ring around the rosy.’ And he will respond, ‘We all fall down.’”

  That seemed rather too simple. Constance frowned. “Might not anyone guess the answer to the code?”

  “Anyone might guess a pocket full of posies. Or even ashes, ashes. But never we all fall down.” He seemed to be fighting a grin. Did he think her foolish? “Trust me, I know my business. I’ve been doing this for years.”

  Lorimer made a far better preacher than conspirator. Thank goodness the man did not make his living this way. Green feathers at night, indeed. But Constance would never say as much to him. There seemed little enough danger involved in passing a letter, and truly, how many buggies could drive by a specified tree at sunset on a specified night? “All right then, if you say so.”

  “Once he responds, you may step into view and give him this.” Lorimer handed her a taupe envelope.

  She took a deep breath. “You can depend on me.”

  * * *

  Constance dashed along the road through dim evening light, silk slippers in one hand and the hem of her butter-yellow evening gown in the other. She’d have a deuce of a time finding her stockings in the bushes tomorrow. As her bare feet pounded the dirt, she chided herself in rhythm. “You can depend on me. I promised him, you can depend on me. Stupid girl.” She picked up her speed, although her lungs tightened in complaint. While she couldn’t see the sun past the hill ahead of her, the muted red-and-gold sky indicated it must be near to setting.

  How was she to know the Randolphs would linger over dinner so late? She’d considered feigning a headache but held them in too high regard to try to fool them. Besides, she’d promised Lorimer to be more diligent with her treatment of the truth.

  She ignored the stitch in her side as she crested the hilltop. A thin sliver of sunlight yet glimmered above the tree line beyond. She’d made it. At a distance she saw a speck of shadow that looked to be a buggy traveling her way. She hurried into the trees.

  Leaning against the broad oak, she attempted to quiet her panting breath and still her racing heart. Lorimer assured her there would be no danger, only a simple letter to pass. She pulled the somewhat crumpled envelope from her moist bodice. It smelled of her gardenia perfume. Anyone would think it a love letter.

  As the rattling buggy approached, she managed to maintain her silence. Finally it reached the hill, and she peeked from behind the tree. It was a two-seater and covered as Lorimer had said it would be. The driver remained well hidden in the dark shadows. But by squinting, she detected the outline of both tricorn and feather—although, of course, she could not tell the color at night.

  Blaring green, indeed. How had she let Lorimer convince her of this? But she must go through with it. For the cause. For Sissy and James and all the servants she’d failed to protect. For Martha and her entire family. Constance pulled courage from deep within.

  Bringing her hand to her mouth and curling it as Lorimer had instructed, she hesitated only a moment before calling, “Ca-caw. Ca-caw.”

  The driver answered right on cue. “Quack, quack.”

  Her heart now thumped at an alarming rate. A knot filled her throat. She rasped out the words. “Ring around the rosy.”

  No answer.

  Her heart clutched.

  Had she misheard the quacks?

  Might an actual duck be nearby?

  Why had she not considered these contingencies?

  She tried one more time, willing her words to ring loud and clear through the night. “Ring around the rosy!”

  “Constance?” Robbie’s voice, filled with shock, met her ears.

  Perhaps she should run.

  But Robbie did not know her scheme. Besides, he supported the cause as well. Could he be…? No, he’d been in town all week. Lorimer could have easily passed the note himself.

  Robbie had already drawn the buggy to a halt. She stepped out of the woods, rather dazed, as he slid from the driver’s seat.

  “Constance, what on earth are you doing here? You could get yourself killed.” He pulled her into an embrace and then pushed her away, holding her tight by the arms and looking her up and down. “In your bare feet, no less.”

  Her thumping heart managed to speed up yet another notch. “But Lorimer said I must deliver this letter. It is of the utmost importance to the cause. Lives are at stake.”

  “Ring around the rosy? Truly?”

  “Oh, I must have botched it somehow. You can’t be the man.” Although in the last glint of daylight, she noted the feather in his hat to indeed be a blaring shade of green.

  She reached out and stroked her finger across the silky wisps.

  “I am the man. What on earth is Lorimer about now? Why didn’t he simply…” Robbie raised his eyebrow. His lips twisted to a wry grin. “Oh, I see.”

  Constance’s head swam deeper into confusion. “You see? What do you see? I see nothing but an ugly, old hat with an alarming feather over a face I had hoped to avoid.”

  Robbie shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look around you. We’re alone. In the woods. Nearly in the dark with the moonlight streaming overhead. Lorimer’s no fool.”

  Indeed the light had shifted from reddish-gold to soft white as the sun slipped behind the trees and the full moon took precedence over daylight. Moonlight, like the night in the library when they had pledged their love.

  “He’s been trying to convince me that you’ve changed. The man’s intent upon me courting you. He thinks we belong together for some reason. We’ve been connived, Constance.�
��

  She pressed her hand to her chest as she took deep, calming breaths. “I’m still not sure I understand. What of the letter?” Constance offered it to him.

  He sniffed the envelope. “Gardenias? Lorimer’s idea or yours?”

  Heat infused her face. “Just read it.”

  Robbie opened it and peered at the message in the dim light. “Aloud?”

  “Please.”

  “Kiss her, you fool! This is your last warning.”

  Laughter welled up in Constance as all the tension of the evening drifted away. She couldn’t hold it in. It bubbled forth, tinkling across the night.

  Robbie sucked in a sharp breath. “For the love of all that’s holy, don’t do that to me.”

  “Do what?” She continued to giggle.

  “Don’t be so intoxicatingly fetching. Oh but you do look lovely in the moonlight.

  The way it catches the curve of your cheek.” Robbie reached out to cup her face.

  Her lips and her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips to soothe them.

  His eyes brushed over the curves of her figure as well. “Beautiful. Like the night in the pavilion. I’ve tried to remove you from my head for a month. No, that’s not true, for five years. But I cannot.”

  “Perhaps…” How could she ever find the words?

  And then they came to her with startling clarity. “Perhaps…that’s because I belong there.”

  “You have changed, haven’t you? A full-blown abolitionist now. Lorimer certainly knows the most dramatic way to make a point. Might I dare to dream that you could forgive me?” He took her gently by the shoulders.

  “Oh Robbie, I know I forgave you the moment I met Jimbo and heard your story. But I think I did even before that. When you caught me waltzing upstairs at White Willow Hall, and I saw the sadness on your face.”

  Robbie shook his head in wonder.

  “But can you forgive me?” she continued. “I said such horrible things to you.” She bit her lip and waited.

  “Think no more of it. It’s long past.”

  Her heart swelled within her chest as her lips tingled with longing. “You promised to marry me once. And give me babies. I’m still holding you to that. I’m getting old, you know. A regular spinster. Don’t make me wait much longer.”