“You are drooling,” Rand said dryly. “And you don’t have nearly the debt I do.”
“Still, it would be rather nice to live the life of leisure our forebearers did. Though I daresay I’m more than glad I’m not in your position.”
“I honestly don’t want a life of leisure,” Rand said. “I don’t mind work, as long as it’s meaningful. But I could work for the next hundred years and not pay off even the interest of the debt my brother accumulated. How he did so while so sick, I’ll never know.”
“Perhaps that’s why he did it. He knew he would die and so decided to squander it.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Rand said quietly. “Many times.”
Edward took a small sip. “We’ve gotten off the subject of your jilting the poor girl.”
“I think the ‘poor girl’ would do a jig if I announced to her mother that I could not marry her.” Rand threw himself down onto a large leather chair and stared at the empty fireplace, feeling out of sorts. It wasn’t as if he didn’t fully realize why he was here. It shouldn’t bother him that he had an unwilling bride. She’d get over it or not and he would be able to save Bellewood and finally help his tenants.
“This truly troubles you, doesn’t it,” Edward said, his tone slightly amazed.
“Of course it does.”
“Surely you didn’t think to have a love match.”
Rand raise one eyebrow. “Hardly. But I didn’t expect my bride to hate me.”
“Hate is a bit strong, don’t you think?”
“Fine then,” Rand said, standing and walking over to a bank of windows that overlooked a small rose garden. “Not hate. Resent. And I don’t want my bride looking at me and—” He stopped and let out a soft swear.
“And wishing you were someone else,” Edward finished for him. It was one of the curses of knowing someone for so long; they almost always knew what the other was thinking.
“I suppose that’s it. If she disliked me for me, then I think I could take that. I would still proceed and marry her and get my heir and leave her be.”
“You’re charming enough. When you want to be. Make her fall in love with you.”
Rand looked horrified. “Good God, why would I do that?”
Edward laughed. “No reason, old man. No reason at all.”
Caroline Astor made it her business to put on the most elaborate ball of the season, known as the Summer Ball. Knowing that the Cummings were hosting a duke and would no doubt try to usurp her as the unofficial leader of the Four Hundred, she put forth all her effort to throw one of the most lavish balls ever, though she would never have admitted such a thing. The Astors and the Cummings had been having a quiet and unspoken social war for more than two decades.
Elizabeth had never before been allowed to attend the famous Summer Ball, by far the grandest event every summer, but this had nothing to do with the fierce rivalry. She had been too young, and then her mother had dragged her all over Europe and foregone the Newport season. Until now. Now she was supposed to be enthralled and charming when she was truly miserable.
Henry would not be here.
His strange note told her as much and that was all it said, which was cruelly disappointing. He had not even told her he missed her or loved her or any of the other things she was longing to hear from his lips. She knew he was likely being overly cautious, and rightly so. But still…one kind word would have gone so far to make her happy this night.
She walked through the gracefully arched Italianate entry to the Astors’ Beechwood on her father’s arm, grateful that he had decided to attend the ball rather than sail off on his beloved sloop. While her father almost always gave in to her mother’s demands, at least he was a strong shoulder to cry on when things were at their worst. He, unfortunately, had been in Bermuda when her mother locked her in her room and so had missed the high drama occurring in Newport. Elizabeth wondered if his presence would even have made a difference. Probably not. But at least he would have given her some comforting words.
Now, it was too late. The duke was here and she imagined it was only a matter of time before he proposed. He hadn’t seemed the least deterred by her rather blunt statement he should return to England. At least she would be able to see her friends who had been barred to her all summer while she remained a prisoner in her room.
The thirty-nine-room mansion was not nearly as large as Sea Cliff, but then, Caroline Astor had wanted to convey the feeling of a true summer cottage. Elizabeth liked it immediately, from its beautiful understated exterior to the welcoming interior. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile when they walked through the crush of people into the white and gilt ballroom. Her father pointed to the ceiling where smiling mermaids gazed down at her.
“Supposed to be like we’re underwater or some such,” her father said.
The ballroom was not overly large, but it was a whimsical place where guests danced beneath sparkling chandeliers. Dangling from the chandeliers were droplike crystals that Elizabeth guessed were meant to evoke a feeling of floating beneath the sea. Three hundred guests, fairly dripping diamonds, gathered in the ballroom and mingled outside on the terrace overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
“This is your first Summer Ball, is it not Elizabeth?” her father asked. Lately, it seemed as if her father had lost touch with her and found it surprising that he saw a woman coming toward him instead of a little girl.
At that moment Elizabeth wished with all her being that she was still the little girl her father doted on so shamelessly.
“It is. And probably shall be my last,” Elizabeth said blithely. She looked up to her father and was struck by how very sad he looked for a small moment before he forced a smile. It was almost impossible not to plead to him then and there, amongst all these people, to stop the inevitable wedding. He squeezed her hand as if he knew what she was thinking and needed to give her strength.
Elizabeth’s heart wrenched, but she smiled and was glad when her father looked relieved.
“Chin up, eh, Elizabeth?” he said.
She almost gave in to tears, but smiled brilliantly in stead just knowing he understood.
Once she’d read Henry’s note, she’d completely dreaded this ball, for she would have to suffer the company of the duke. Oh, she knew she was being unfair and catty, but she did not care. She could think of him only as “the duke” for that is how she’d thought of him for weeks now. If he did not exist, if her mother had not attended that particular art gallery on that particular day, she would most likely be walking arm in arm with Henry right now.
The orchestra was set up in the Wedgewood room off the ballroom to give more room for dancing, though this early no one was dancing yet. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth spotted her dearest friend hurrying over to her. Margaret Pierce, fondly called Maggie by her friends, stopped in front of her, beaming her excitement.
“You may make your escape now, Father,” Elizabeth said, leaning up to kiss her father’s cheek.
“Your
