Chapter 5

Anna woke before dawn to the robins singing outside her window and opened the french doors to breathe the jasmine-scented air.

She wrapped herself in her dressing gown, found her Bible, and sat on the balcony to think and pray. The Bible fell open at Jeremiah, where the familiar, well-read page had detached itself from the binding. “For I know the thoughts I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you hope in your latter end.”

“To give me hope,” Anna said. She bowed her head. Thank You, Lord, that Your thoughts toward me are like the sand of the sea and the stars of the sky. So many I cannot count them. Please direct my path as I put my trust in You.

The pale mist over the river vanished as she meditated on the verse. When a soft knock sounded at her door, Anna turned to find Nora peeking in. Her friend tiptoed through the bedroom in a dressing gown, her hair in a thick braid down her back. “So you’re awake, too?” She had dark smudges under her eyes and a worried line between her eyebrows.

Anna smiled. “I usually wake at this time, sleepyhead. What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She sat down and gave Anna a searching look. “I’m worried about you, dear.” She pulled her braid over her shoulder and fiddled with the end of it. “I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. I can see you’re warming to Radclyfe.” She dropped the braid and grasped Anna’s forearm. “You can’t believe anything he says.” She clutched Anna’s arm as if she could physically prevent her from falling in love with Mr. Radclyfe.

Gently, Anna disentangled her arm. “Nora, the memory of what happened with Stuart is enough to stop me.”

“What did happen? You never said.”

Anna hesitated. A sick pang gnawed her insides whenever she reflected on the hurt and humiliation she had suffered at his hands. “Papa overheard him boasting at the club, saying he’d made the deal of the century and couldn’t wait to get control of the dowry.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Papa confronted him, and Stuart tried to talk his way out of it. But Papa told him the engagement was off and that he was lucky he didn’t get challenged to a duel.”

“Oh my.”

Anna nodded. “When Papa first voiced objections about Stuart, I wouldn’t listen. I was over the moon in love.” She sighed. “I know now Papa was correct. And it’s ruined me.” She patted Nora’s hand. “So you see, my dear, you don’t have to worry. I’ve been fooled and betrayed once. Never again.”

Anna shut the bedroom door after Nora left and returned to the balcony. A robin lighted on the rail and gave Anna an inquisitive look. Anna sighed. “It’s true, isn’t it?” she said to the bird. “I am warming to him.” She shook her head hard, and the robin flew off. “Dear Lord, help me.”

Rob woke late the next morning and breakfasted alone after Mortimer informed him the baron and the young ladies awaited him outside on the bluff. Bacon, eggs, and coffee swept away the last vestiges of exhaustion from his impromptu swim the previous evening.

Miss MacDougall and the countess sat in wicker chairs, holding sun parasols, while DeVille lounged at their feet on a plaid blanket. The whistle of a steamship echoed faintly on the Hudson River below as a warm breeze brushed his face. A beautiful morning to be alive. And to pursue Miss MacDougall.

Miss MacDougall and the countess turned in their chairs to greet them, both attired in summery white lace dresses. Rob took a chair between them. Was it his imagination or had Miss MacDougall’s eyes brightened as she greeted him?

“Have you quite recovered, Mr. Radclyfe?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you. But I interrupted your conversation with DeVille. You were saying?”

DeVille sat up. “I wondered what we could do for fun when there’s no need for a hero to rescue the day.” He gazed into Miss MacDougall’s face and then playfully flung daisy petals into her lap. She stiffened, and Rob noted her fingers clenched white on her parasol handle.

Then she tossed her head. “You may do anything you please. Tennis, croquet, cards. You can ride any horse you like from the stable.”

“Fresh air and sunshine then.” James looked disappointed. “What other bucolic delights await us at Longmeadow?”

“Witty conversation. Erudite speech.” Miss MacDougall arched an eyebrow. “You’re quite fond of the latter, aren’t you, Baron?”

DeVille sprang up with a mock look of dismay. “Did you hear that, Rob? I’ve been insulted.”

Rob shook his head. “Miss MacDougall is an astute observer of human nature.”

DeVille took a seat next to Nora. “And what do you think, Countess?”

When DeVille smiled at the countess, Miss MacDougall turned away, an odd look on her face. Rob frowned. Something about DeVille bothered her.

Nora’s eyes sparkled. “Perhaps you should challenge her to a duel.”

“Excellent idea! What do you propose? Walking shoes or riding crop?”

Miss MacDougall laughed. “You’re on your own there, Baron. I don’t ride.”

That surprised Rob. “Why?”

“I had a bad spill as a child and never wanted to ride after that. But the horses would welcome some hard exercise. Why don’t you go down to the coach house and choose a mount?”

DeVille bowed to Nora. “May I escort you, Countess?”

Nora nodded. “You may. Coming, Mr. Radclyfe?”

Rob shook his head. “I’ll remain here, thank you.” He glanced at Miss MacDougall’s maid, who was reading a book and sitting close enough to chaperone but not quite near enough to hear their conversation. The blue peaks of the Catskill Mountains shimmered against the northeast horizon. The wind sang through the ancient pines, accompanied by the warbled melodies of the robins. He laced his fingers behind his head, stretched out his legs, and let out a long, slow breath. It was so peaceful. It reminded him of Donalee, and a spasm of homesickness went through his gut.

“You enjoy the country, Mr. Radclyfe?”

Rob sat up and brushed pine needles off his coat. Now here alone with her, he couldn’t think what to say next. The silence grew as he frantically searched his brain and tried to decide how to press his suit.

She examined him with the hint of an amused smile on her lips. “Would you like to see the gardens?”

Perhaps it would be easier to have a conversation if he didn’t have to face her. So he stood and offered his arm while she raised her parasol. He was acutely aware of her mimosa perfume and the touch of her fingers as they walked the paths of crushed gray stone, followed at a respectful distance by the maid. On the lowest level, a reflecting pool led to a shady pergola, where a marble statue of Orpheus, the Greek god who could charm wild animals with his sweet singing voice, stood guard. If only some of that charm could rub off on me, Rob thought.

“Shall we sit awhile?” Miss MacDougall gestured to a stone bench built into the brick wall underneath an arch covered with wisteria trailing long purple panicles.

“Of course.”

Other stone benches had been built into the walls and under the trees, perfect for viewing the garden at all its levels. Miss MacDougall closed her parasol and looked at him expectantly. Her maid took a seat not far away and buried her nose in her book, which reminded him he’d been keeping the copy of Dorian Gray in his pocket for the last few days, trying to find the right time to give it back to her.

He pulled it from his frock coat and laid it in her lap.

Her face flushed pink. “I hope you don’t mean to needle me about this again.”

“No. But I’d like to discuss it.” He glanced at her with a tiny smile.

She gritted her teeth, and Rob held up his hands. “May I try to explain?”

She gave him a short, tight nod.

He leaned toward her. “Most English girls I’ve known would never be interested in such a novel, nor any of the American girls to whom I’ve been introduced.” He sat back. “It tells me you have curiosity, Miss MacDougall, and an interest in the world around you that extends beyond the confines of the ballroom and the boudoir.”

She sniffed. “Indeed, you’re rather peculiar yourself, Mr. Radclyfe. Because no ordinary young man would dare to use the word ‘boudoir’ to a young lady.”

His mouth fell open as his cheeks flushed bright red. “I … I didn’t mean—”

She waved her hand. “Quite all right. It’s marvelous to know I can disconcert you as easily as you can me.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled tentatively. “Then may we continue our discussion?”

She smiled for the first time during their exchange. “Yes.”

He crossed his arms and glanced at her skirt, where the outline of a book clearly showed in a pocket. “What are you reading now?”

She smiled faintly and pulled the book out.

“Frankenstein.” He blinked then shook his head. “My word. You’re a Pandora’s box of surprises. How do you like it?”

“I’ve almost finished. One chapter to go.” She sighed. “I know how it’s going to end, though. Sadly.”

“You feel for the monster?”

“Didn’t you? He isn’t much different from a child rejected by his own father and then society. And then after the creature experiences pain and suffering, he turns bitter and murderous.”

“Do you think he was evil?”

She considered his question. “His evil had a focus. Vengeance against Dr. Frankenstein.” She replaced the book in her pocket. “I blame his maker, the good doctor—who wasn’t so good after all. Creation of life belongs to God the Father.”

“I agree. And not everyone who is rejected by his father turns evil.”

His morose tone caught her ear, and she studied him thoughtfully. “Are you thinking of your own father?”

Mr. Radclyfe grimaced. “You’re very perceptive, Miss MacDougall. I’ve had few conversations of significance with my father in my entire adult life. He’s rather a cold man.”

“I’m sorry for that.” She smiled ruefully. “I’m fortunate to have a loving father. Not everyone does.”

Rob shook his head. “I’ve spent my life trying to please him. In hopes of gaining his approval.”

“And that’s why you’re here in America.” She regarded him thoughtfully, her head tipped to the side.

The spring sunshine had brought out tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks, and she was so lovely he could sit and gaze at her forever. He hoped she was developing a view of him as a dutiful son rather than a fortune hunter.

“I find it odd, Mr. Radclyfe, that you haven’t been able to find the right woman the entire season.” She blushed then. “What I mean to say is …” She hesitated. “I know there are many willing young women who desire what you can offer: a title.”

He might as well come right out and say it. “My search has been difficult because I have one firm stipulation my father knows nothing of.”

Her eyes narrowed, and then curiosity got the best of her. “And what is that?”

He smiled, leaned toward her, and gazed into her beautiful green eyes. “I must be deeply in love with the woman I marry, Miss Radclyfe. Above all else, that is most important to me.”