“Darling, it’s almost time to go, remember we’re going to tea at the …” Evelyn’s mother stopped in the door, her mouth hanging slightly open as Evelyn willed her eyelids to open.
“You’re still in bed? What on Earth?” Mrs. McKenzie rushed to her bedside, a pale hand extended and ready to pat her daughter down for signs of fever.
Evelyn batted the hand away and pulled her quilt higher over her shoulder. “I’m not sick. I’m just tired.”
“Oh, poor dear. Still not sleeping well? Shall I telephone the Whites and tell them we can’t come to tea? You shouldn’t be out in this cold, risking exhaustion and …”
“Mother, stop.” Evelyn’s mother had a tendency to work herself into a frenzy over the smallest shred of evidence that something terrible might happen. Once, when she found a mosquito bite on Evelyn’s arm as a child, she had quarantined the house and alerted everyone in the neighborhood that Evie had smallpox, essentially kidnapping the doctor and practically holding him hostage when he didn’t give her the diagnosis she expected. It took him an hour to convince her that her daughter would be fine, and by then Mrs. McKenzie had worked herself into such a state that she had to take to her own bed for several days afterward. “I’m fine, Mother. I just overslept.”
“Oh…oh dear, well …” Mrs. McKenzie stood up and wrung her hands, her small feet clicking against the hardwood as she paced in circles. She was not a woman who did well when things did not go according to plan.
“Mother,” Evelyn said, rising from her bed and shivering in the morning cold as gooseflesh climbed her limbs. “Give me ten minutes to clean up and dress. We’ll be right on time for tea, and I promise to be pleasant and charming and full of pep. But please, let me be for ten minutes.” She ushered her mother back to the door of her room as she spoke, and shut it behind her, leaving her mother in the hallway.
Evelyn moaned and put a hand to her head. “Oy.” Too much gin. A smile crossed her face at the memory of Jack’s hands on her leg, his mouth on hers. It was worth the headache. She swallowed a headache tablet, kept on her dressing table for just such an occasion, and set about the task of making herself look presentable for her parents’ friends and her future husband—if her father had his way. As promised, she was downstairs, dressed like a demure society daughter in a long blue dress, ten minutes later.
“You look lovely, darling,” her mother said, having recovered from her shock at finding Evie still in bed at 11 a.m. “Shall we go?”
“Of course,” Evelyn said, allowing Buck to help her into her coat as she gave him a quick wink.
“You look well today, Miss Evie,” Buck said, a smile in his voice.
“Thanks, Buckie.” She hoped he’d managed to get some sleep after he’d helped her back into her window the night before.
“I do hope you’ll behave,” Evelyn’s mother said. “Roger will be there.” She left it at that, but offered a raised eyebrow to Evelyn, which translated loosely to “be on your best behavior because I am about to parade you about like a marriageable show dog.”
Ever since her parents had gotten wind that the Whites’ son, Roger, would be graduating Yale at the end of the year, they’d practically forced Evelyn down the throats of his family. Evelyn, for her part, didn’t find Roger unattractive or less-than-compelling even. She kept her distance mostly due to her parents’ complete lack of distance. She’d only ever sat across from him at luncheons, made vague small talk at teas. And yet, their parents together seemed convinced that a ring would be in the offing in a matter of months. To Evelyn’s parents, she was already engaged.
“Very well.” Evelyn sighed. She was tired of being on show. She wasn’t sure she had ever truly been in love, but whatever lay between Jack Taylor and her was close enough for now. But how could she tell her parents that their dreams of marrying her into another wealthy Upper East Side family were about to be shattered by her desire for the proprietor of a gin mill? She leaned heavily into the firm seat of the car, replaying her ride home the night before. She’d swaddled herself in her fur, letting Jack’s scent engulf her as his cologne lingered on her throat, her arms. She wanted to lose herself in that man completely—his rough determination, sheathed in the perfectly tailored suits and elegance of the club. He was like a tiger concealed in fine clothing—she loved the ferocity she sensed just beneath the surface. The idea sent a thrill through her, and she sat up suddenly in the back seat.
“What is it?” her mother asked, looking concerned, as always.
“Nothing, Mother. Just remembered that I promised Tug I’d telephone today.”
“Well, you’d have had time if you’d gotten up at a decent hour.”
“I’ll call round later.” Evelyn settled back. She couldn’t wait to tell Tug about her adventure the night before.
* * * *
“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mrs. White said, as the women settled around the drawing room in her Fifth Avenue townhouse. Though it was just blocks from Evelyn’s parents’ house, it felt worlds away. Evelyn’s family was comfortable enough, but looking around the Whites’ home made Evelyn realize just how many rungs were left to climb on the society ladder if one were so motivated. Though the home was impressive, and she admired Mrs. White’s easy way of life, Evelyn had little interest in projecting false airs to improve her station in life.
“What are you doing with your time, Evie, darling?” Mrs. White was asking.
“I’m starting college in the spring,” Evelyn told her. “I was accepted to New York University, but Mother thought I should wait until I’m officially eighteen to attend.”
“A year more mature,” Mrs. McKenzie pointed out.
“I think it’s her hope that I’ll be engaged by then, and will have given up my silly dreams of independence.”
Mrs. White’s eyebrows shot up and she put down her teacup with a clatter.
Evelyn’s mother stared at her in horror, a pallor draining what little color her face normally held.
Evelyn was just about to apologize and pretend she’d made a bad joke when two men came noisily through the front door.
“I’d think you would be used to being beat by now, Dad.” A low rich voice rolled through the room, followed by another man’s hearty laugh.
“Maybe it’s time for you to go back to school.”
The men appeared in the doorway, both dressed in tennis whites. Roger White had a wavy pile of dark hair and sparkling dark eyes that made Evelyn shiver, despite her firm resolution to avoid any relationship that her parents had arranged for her. The older man was an exact replica with white-blond hair. Both men wore welcoming smiles.
“Oh, hello,” the younger man said, addressing both Evelyn and her mother. He walked toward her mother, a hand extended. “I’m so sorry we’re late for tea.” He took Mrs. McKenzie’s hand and bowed slightly. Evelyn watched Roger approach her mother under her eyelashes. She was practicing not noticing him, but it didn’t escape her that he moved with a liquid grace that brought to mind elegant athletes—or dancers. “Evelyn,” the rich voice said. Roger’s eyes were on her.
She rose and extended a hand. “Hello, Roger.”
“It’s wonderful to see you,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He pressed her skin to his soft full lips, and Evelyn would have sworn he’d seared them with the heat the kiss produced. He allowed his lips to linger just a beat too long—almost longer than was proper, but not quite. Evelyn felt her heartbeat accelerate. Roger had never given her such a warm welcome before. She narrowed her eyes at him as he stood up again, trying to figure out what he was about.
“Roger, Allen,” Mrs. White said. “I’m sure I told you that we’d have company at eleven. Never mind. Please sit, I’ll get you some tea.” She fussed out of the room and returned with a maid on her heels, who brought in a fresh pot of tea.
Roger, in the meantime, had taken a seat quite near Evelyn, and she found that she was suddenly very aware of his broad shoulders, his confident posture. She was actually finding it hard to think with him so close to her. She half wished he’d move across the room, to the comfortable distance he’d maintained every time she’d seen him before. Every time she tried to steal a glance at him over her shoulder, his eyes were on her, and she felt that he could see right through her, though she had nothing to hide. His sudden attention was beginning to irritate her, though she had to admit that he was attractive. His interest wasn’t distasteful…just surprising.
“Evelyn was just telling us of her plans for college, Roger,” Mrs. White said.
“Really?” Roger turned his entire body to face Evelyn, and she felt her heart’s pace increase with his full gaze trained upon her.
“I’ll start in the spring,” she said, feeling as if she needed suddenly to argue the value of her attendance at school. This man, no doubt, believed as her parents did—that women wouldn’t benefit from a liberal arts education.
“That’s wonderful,” Allen White interjected from the other side of the room. Evelyn was grateful, the man’s jovial voice kept her from wondering why the chocolate depths of Roger’s eyes suddenly seemed to have a pull on her. “What will you study, Evelyn?”
“Classics, maybe,” she said, thankful for somewhere to look besides those dangerous dark eyes. “I’m not sure.”
“Roger is a business student at Yale,” Allen told her. “He’ll finish next year.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Roger said, his voice sarcastic.
“Don’t be humble,” Mrs. McKenzie said. “Handsome men who are good in business will always be in demand.”
Evelyn cringed at her mother’s blatant ploy. She might as well just offer the Whites forty goats and be done with it. Evelyn was tired of her mother’s efforts to marry her off, though she had to admit that Roger White was by far the most compelling candidate she’d been foisted on so far. Despite his good looks and simmering eyes, she bristled at the idea of getting to know him, just on principle.
“And how is your business faring, Allen?” Mrs. McKenzie turned her questioning to Roger’s father and Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief.
Momentarily out of the spotlight, Evelyn relaxed slightly, sipping her tea and trying to forget the eyes of the man sitting beside her. Her efforts were successful until a warm hand landed on her forearm. Evelyn stared at it, the long graceful fingers creating a tingling warmth that was spreading through her, igniting a heat in regions she’d believed were solely Jack Taylor’s territory. She jerked her head up to find herself tumbling into the dark eyes again.
“I apologize for this,” Roger was saying in a soft voice, leaning near. “I swear, I’m really not this drab. My mother insists that you and I are destined to be together. It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“You disagree? We wouldn’t make a good match?” Evelyn was trying to be sarcastic, but when she turned to face Roger, she worried suddenly that she sounded coy or flirtatious instead.
“I don’t know.” Roger’s eyes were hooded and dark. He looked thoughtful as he took his hand from her arm and sat back a bit. “Evelyn, we hardly know each other. We’ve had tea and lunch. We’ve hardly been allowed to actually talk. You’re beautiful—any schmuck can see that. But my parents just seem so heart set on marrying me off immediately. I guess I’ve never given any real consideration to any of their selections. I’d just rather figure things out for myself, I guess.” Roger looked as exhausted by the process as Evelyn felt.
“So I’m just the latest on their long list?” Evelyn asked, recovering her wits only slightly and feeling a faint and surprising jealousy at the thought of another girl sitting in such close proximity to Roger White. She wondered vaguely why Roger suddenly seemed more interesting than he had before. Maybe he was right—they’d never actually spoken one on one. She realized she didn’t know him at all.
“Perhaps you’re just one on the list,” Roger allowed. “But I do find you interesting. I don’t know why I didn’t notice before. Most of the debs that my mother has paraded through are either flappers or society girls. And none have had your eyes.”
Evelyn stared at him as his words worked through her. “Well, don’t get the wrong idea,” she said. “I’m a deb too, you know. And I haven’t done anything different than those other girls yet. I don’t start school until the spring.”
“So you’re just husband-hunting in the meantime?”
“How dare you ask me that?” Evelyn pretended to be offended, but was secretly impressed. It was rare to find a man who spoke so plainly in the society circles her mother forced her into. “I’m not hunting at all.”
“How are you spending your time then?” Roger’s eyes never left her face, and he’d turned to face her so that their knees were virtually touching.
“I keep busy,” Evelyn told him. “I have fun.”
“I bet you do,” he said, winking.
Evelyn wasn’t sure what he was implying, but she was sure that she wasn’t supposed to like it, so she evoked an offended attitude and turned away from him. A heat was rising in her, though. She wasn’t really offended, she was intrigued. And she was annoyed at herself for it. She wasn’t the kind of girl to see more than one man at once, and Jack was her man. Why was Roger having such an effect on her?
When it was time to leave, Roger helped her on with her coat. “It was very interesting chatting with you.”
“And with you,” she said, annoyed at the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.
“Well, perhaps we’ll meet again,” he told her, catching her eye. There was a glimmer in the dark depths of his gaze that made her jumpy. What was he playing at?
She rode home silently, listening to her mother wax poetic about all of Roger White’s charms. She wished she could figure out what it was about him that made her feel so off balance. He was attractive, but he was much too aloof for her taste. Besides, her heart belonged to Jack Taylor.