When Harrison left, Kit lowered himself onto the window seat. “I thought we were supposed to help him.”
She smoothed the fabric of her skirts. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Maddie, you must encourage him to find a bride. All the guests were staring just now, wondering what is going on between the two of you.”
He watches you all the time, like he’s obsessed with you.
She pushed Nellie’s words aside. “Nothing is going on.” Other than her thoughts running away from her. Inappropriate thoughts of her childhood friend . . . which had to stop. She couldn’t even claim surprise any longer, because she’d spent too much time in Harrison’s presence today.
The plan is for him to find a wealthy wife. Your plan is to win Nationals and marry a duke.
How could she have forgotten?
“You’re right,” she told Kit. “We were catching up, but we’ll do that later. At the moment, he needs to focus on the young ladies.”
“Glad to hear you agree.” He sipped his drink and gestured to the room. “Now, let’s discuss said ladies and decide which prospect we like for Harrison.”
“Should Harrison not decide for himself?”
“Yes, but that’s hardly fun.”
God knew, Kit was all about fun. Still, he was her conspirator in matching Harrison with a bride this weekend. Perhaps Kit could be of use. “The woman in the blue silk with blonde hair is Angelica Dent, a cousin to President Grant. Next to her is Alice Lusk. Her father is big in shipping.”
“Met her mother earlier,” Kit said. “Terrible person.”
“Unfortunately, that is true. But Alice is smart and kind, the complete opposite. Now the group by the fireplace is Nellie Young, daughter of Cornelius Young. She’s the auburn-haired one.”
“I’ve heard of her.”
“Most everyone has. She’s quite the troublemaker.” Kit’s eyes gleamed with speculation, so Maddie snapped her gloved fingers in front of his face. “Off-limits, Christopher.”
He waved his hand. “I remember. Keep going.”
“Next to Miss Young in the cream silk is Louise Martin, and next to her is Martha Thorne. Both old money. Knickerbockers through and through.”
“In other words, boring.”
“That is a terrible thing to say.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
He was but she would never admit it. “Emily Mills and Katherine Delafield are on the sofa.”
“Delafield, like the real estate family?”
“That’s the one.”
“Preston absolutely hates her father,” Kit murmured. “Good thing he decided not to come.”
Their friend Preston Clarke was currently buying up most of Manhattan to erect skyscrapers. Maddie was not surprised to hear that he was at odds with Mr. Delafield.
Kit nodded to where Harrison stood. “And the one talking with our man over there?”
“That’s Lydia Hartwell. Her father owns most of the silver mines in Montana.”
Kit whistled under his breath. “And pretty, too. They look cozy.” He tipped his chin to where Harrison and Lydia stood at the sideboard. “This seems promising.”
Was it? Harrison and Lydia had chatted before dinner as well, so perhaps this would work out for Harrison, after all.
And Maddie was happy about that. Really.
She decided to mention the rumor from earlier. “Someone told me he fathered two children in Paris.”
Kit’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “Harrison?” When she nodded, he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve never seen a person want children less than Harrison.”
He didn’t? She hadn’t known that. They hadn’t ever discussed having children, not until tonight when he’d mentioned his mistress and preventing “consequences.” Information that had been, frankly, unnecessary.
Harrison had a longtime mistress in Paris.
It shouldn’t have surprised or upset her, yet for some reason it did both. Hearing about his mistress had unsettled her stomach with a sickening weight that slid down to her toes.
“One can hardly blame him,” Kit continued. “The Archers were not the most loving family. He said if it weren’t for you and your parents, he never would have known what real familial affection looked like.”
Warmth filled her, chest fluttering with memories of all their time spent together. What fun they’d had. “There were lots of children around, but Harrison quickly became a fixture here.”
“Never a hint of anything romantic between you?” Kit looked away, studying the room as if memorizing every detail. “That is to say, a teenaged boy has one thing on his mind, and I cannot imagine Harrison was any different.”
She remembered a sixteen-year-old Harrison, with his lanky limbs and shy smile. Not once had he ever hinted at feelings for her—or any other girl. “No, never.”
A huff of laughter escaped Kit’s mouth. “No wonder he was so unrestrained in Paris.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He rose and pulled on his cuffs. “I see that your mother is throwing me a disapproving look. I sense she’s about to reprimand me for not allowing you to circulate.”
“I needn’t circulate. That is Harrison’s job.”
“Well, I wouldn’t wish to upset—”
“Mr. Ward,” her mother said, interrupting. Mama’s scowl could be fierce when she wanted, like when Maddie misbehaved. “Run along and let me speak with my daughter. Go charm one of the other girls.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kit hurried away as if his life depended on it.
“I cannot understand why you dislike him so much,” Maddie said to her mother. “He’s been a good friend to me.”
“Yes, a good friend who almost ruined your chances with a duke.” Mama lowered herself into the seat. “I’ll never forgive him for trying to discourage Lockwood, pretending you were spoken for.”
“Mr. Ward thought he was protecting me from a fortune hunter.”
“As if that is his right.” Her mother’s nose went into the air. “Fortune or not, we are honored by the duke’s association with our family. You will be one of the most powerful women in England when Lockwood proposes.”
“I know, which is why I sought him out in the first place.”
“And I applaud your ambition. As I’ve said many times, the match a girl makes dictates the rest of her life. Marrying someone as powerful as the duke means you’ll want for nothing.”
Maddie reached over and patted her mother’s hand. “You’ve been a wonderful mother and role model.”
Her mother softened at those words. “I remember what it was like to starve and scrimp growing up, before I met your father. My parents worked themselves to an early grave. I don’t wish that on anyone, let alone my daughter. You should be protected and pampered.”
Years ago Mama had angled to meet Stephen Webster, already a wealthy man at twenty-five, in Detroit. The two had fallen in love, and Daddy had given Mama a leg up from her middle-class upbringing. It was a story Maddie had heard many times over. “And I will, should Lockwood ever propose.”
“He will—though I do hope your tennis obsession is not giving him pause. Women participating in sports and sweating in public.” She made a face. “Furthermore, I don’t care for all those men hanging around the matches, trying to talk to you afterwards. It is unseemly, Madeline.”
This was an old battle, one Maddie had no intention of caving on. She loved tennis and she was good at it. Why would she ever stop playing? “Then you shouldn’t have allowed me to take lessons all those years ago.”
Mama sniffed. “Your father allowed it—over my objections, I might add.”
Daddy had always been a softer touch than her mother. They both looked at Maddie’s father where he stood across the room, holding a glass of amber-colored liquid and talking to Kit. A boisterous sportsman, Daddy had inspired her love of all things outdoors. While at the chateau, he would play golf or tennis in the morning, then sail every afternoon. Her grandfather had made a fortune in steel and iron at the end of the war, and Daddy liked to brag that most every train in the nation ran on Webster rails.
“Come along,” her mother said. “Let’s help Harrison mingle. He is letting that Hartwell girl monopolize his time almost as badly as you did.”
The household had long settled for the night, yet Harrison couldn’t sleep, his mind wide awake. So he’d donned a dressing gown and found his way onto the terrace overlooking the ocean. A three-quarter moon had transformed the back lawn into a deep glowing green, and waves churned onto the rocks below in a steady rhythm.
Today had been promising. He hadn’t expected results this quickly, but her jealousy had both surprised and delighted him. He had to continue his campaign tomorrow, making sure to remind her of their shared history and interests. Perhaps pay her a compliment or two. He would flirt and make her laugh, turn on the charm when necessary. By the third day he might kiss her in a very non-brotherly way.
Leaning against the stone balustrade, he lit a cigar, turning it in the flame first to warm the leaves. He pulled smoke into his mouth, enjoying the rich, sweet taste before exhaling into the air. Standing in this particular spot, smoking, reminded him of the last time he’d been here, the night when everything changed . . .
“Come with me.”
Harrison glanced over at the voice and found his friend Preston at his elbow. “Why?”
Preston gestured to the Webster dance floor, where nearly all of society had gathered for this Newport ball. “Because, my friend, you are standing here gawking at her and it is approaching pathetic. Besides, I have cigarettes. Let’s go out for a quick smoke.”
Harrison took one more peek at Maddie. Stunningly turned out in an ivory ball gown, she was laughing at something her dance partner said. Every song had her dancing with someone else, which didn’t surprise him considering she was one of the most sought-after debutantes that year.
No one knew, however, that she already belonged to Harrison.
He’d loved her since he was fifteen, yet it hadn’t felt right to confess his feelings before she debuted, so he’d waited until they were here, back at the beach, to finally tell her. He had no idea whether she returned his affection . . . but they had grown up together. Were best friends. The first person each of them sought out in a crowd. Each other’s keeper of secrets, the provider of unwavering support.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Girls usually married at the end of their first season, sometimes second. There was no time to lose. He intended to get her alone after dinner, tell her how he felt and hopefully make plans for their future.
Nerves twisted in his belly, his throat drying out. Perhaps a small distraction in the form of a trip outside would relax him. “Fine,” he told Preston. “But not too long.”
The two of them dodged the crowd until they reached the terrace, which ran the entire back side of the chateau, similar to an Italian palazzo. Preston kept going, however, striding toward one of the sets of stone stairs that led down onto the lawn.
“Where are you going?” Harrison called to his friend’s back.
“Out of sight. Kit and I have a bet to see who can go the longest without smoking. I don’t want to lose.”
“So you will cheat instead.”
“Yes, without remorse.”
Harrison chuckled under his breath. Preston was ruthless when the mood struck him. The two of them ended up in an alcove below the terrace. The moon, combined with the house lights, provided enough illumination for them to see. Preston flicked open a silver case, removed two cigarettes, then pocketed the case. After lighting them both, he handed one to Harrison. “Here.”
He accepted the lit cigarette and brought it to his mouth. His lungs burned as the smoke entered, then his mind calmed, relaxed, and he leaned back against the stone as he exhaled. He didn’t often smoke, but had enjoyed the occasional cigarette or cigar since attending college. Always with Preston, who was both a terrible influence and a great friend. “What is the bet for?”
“The one with Kit?” At Harrison’s nod, Preston blew out a mouthful of smoke and said, “Fifty dollars.”
“You can afford it.”
“I know but I hate to lose. It’s the principle of it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Says the man who’s pined after the same woman for four years.”
More like six, but Harrison didn’t correct his friend. “Pining no longer, I hope, after tonight.”
Preston’s eyes grew round. “Tonight is the night? Are you serious?”
“Yes. I am telling her as soon as I can get her alone.”
“About goddamn time. We’re starting our senior year. You can finally live a little.”
Harrison didn’t need saloons and women. He only needed Maddie. “I plan to.”
“Are you going to tell her how you feel straight off?”
“Not at first. I’ll start by saying I plan to court her and then see how that goes.”
“I’d wish you luck but I don’t think you need it. I’ve never seen two people so perfect for one another.”
Before Harrison could comment, noise drifted down from the terrace. That was the thing about Newport: private conversations were near impossible. Whether because of the water or the wind, sound carried for miles here.
He and Preston remained quiet, each puffing off a cigarette while they waited and listened.
Different high-pitched giggles, then the shuffle of slippers on stone . . .
A group of young girls, if Harrison had to guess. This was confirmed a second later when they began speaking.
“. . . is really a terrible dancer. He stepped on my toes twice.”
Maddie.
Harrison froze, his gaze catching with Preston’s. His friend immediately understood, nodding once.
What was she doing out here? He thrust the half-finished cigarette into the planter filled with sand, intent on going up there. Preston put a hand on his arm and shook his head. Wait, his friend mouthed.
Harrison wasn’t keen on eavesdropping, but perhaps Maddie didn’t need him interfering.
“At least he asked you to dance. I cannot get him to notice me.” Another girl, a voice Harrison didn’t recognize.
“Don’t feel bad,” a third and higher voice said. “Everyone notices Maddie.”
“That is hardly true,” Maddie said, humble as always.
“Of course it is,” another girl said. “I wish I knew your secret.”
Harrison smothered a snort. There was no secret or trick to Maddie’s appeal. It was part of her, like her wide smile and sparkling eyes, or her boisterous laugh and generous wit. No other girl came close.
“Me too,” the highest voice said. “I certainly wish Harrison Archer paid me as much attention as he does you, Maddie.”
“Mr. Archer? Oh, we’ve been friends forever.”
“Well, you know the old adage about friendships between men and women,” the other girl said.
“What adage is that?”
“I cannot remember exactly, but something like it’s impossible to remain strictly friends because one side or the other always wishes it was more.”
“That is absurd,” Maddie snapped. “I harbor absolutely no feelings for him whatsoever. He’s like a brother to me.”
Harrison frowned into the darkness. A brother? She thought of him as a brother . . .
The friend continued. “Come now, Maddie. All those years you’ve been friends and it’s never been romantic? Not once?”
“Never. I cannot think of any man I am less attracted to, honestly.”
Less. Attracted. To.
Harrison swayed on his feet and if not for Preston’s steadying hand on his shoulder, he might have toppled over. He couldn’t breathe, his body frozen in one spot, the pain ripping through his chest like it was splitting apart. Black dots swirled in his vision, his brain tripping, spinning, careening over this information, unable to take it in.
She didn’t want him, not as a husband. All these years he’d thought to give her time, tried not to rush her, and it turned out he’d been kidding himself. Deluding himself with ideas of them together, married with a family, traveling between the city and Newport.
He bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, and struggled for breath.
“Do you mean it?” the girl asked. “I think he’s handsome.”
“Of course I mean it,” Maddie answered. “To prove it, let’s go inside and I’ll introduce you to him. Then he’ll ask you to dance.”
“Oh, would you, Maddie? I’d be forever in your debt.”
“No need for that. Seeing two of my friends fall in love would be gratitude enough. Come along. I think I saw him heading toward the card room about an hour ago.”
Harrison straightened and stared out at the lawn, unseeing. He hadn’t visited the card room tonight. Clearly, she hadn’t watched him as carefully as he’d watched her.
And why would she? Maddie didn’t want him, not like that. She was trying to introduce him to her friends, for God’s sake. Pawn him off onto some other woman for the rest of his life.
He closed his eyes and tried not to break down and howl like a wounded animal. Fuck, why did this hurt so badly?
“They’re gone,” Preston said, his voice grave. “And I’m sorry, Harrison.”
Harrison’s mouth opened but no sound came out. What could he possibly say? He was empty. Utterly empty. There was nothing left inside him.
“Come. I’ll walk with you back to your cottage.”
Harrison’s feet refused to move, his heart rebelling. No. Not Newport. He could not stay here one moment longer. Not here, where he’d chased and played with her. Spent so many days and nights surrounded by Maddie. He had to get away. “New York,” he croaked. “I need to leave for New York.”
“The trains aren’t running until morning—” Preston broke off, presumably at something he saw in Harrison’s expression. “I’ll make a call,” Preston said, putting his palms out. “Let’s get you out of here first.”
That night had changed the course of Harrison’s life.
Arriving in New York, discovering his father, the terrible row . . . then he’d been disinherited. Hours later he’d left for Paris, ready to drown himself in the renowned debauchery of the city. It had all happened quickly.
He’d tried hard to forget her, and it had seemed to work for a bit. But there were always reminders and memories haunting him. Now he could see it was because they were destined for each other.
Three years ago he’d run away, instead of pressing his case and trying to woo her. He would not repeat that mistake.
A figure emerged in the darkness, catching his attention. Someone was coming up the path from the beach, alone. Definitely a woman. Harrison puffed on the cigar and watched as she picked her way toward the house. Her feet were bare and the hem of her skirts was damp. She was singing to herself, her head swaying in the moonlight. She was too short to be Maddie, so who was it? Had one of the ladies gone for a midnight swim?
Another few feet and he saw it was Nancy—no, Nellie Young. The daughter of Cornelius Young, the well-known financier. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head, a towel slung over her arm.
Though he wasn’t properly dressed, he made no effort to hide or look away. He spoke when she climbed the steps. “Miss Young. You are certainly out late.”
“Mr. Archer. Hello.” She drew closer, unabashed about being caught. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No. You?”
“I met a friend for a swim.”
A midnight assignation? He couldn’t help but grin. “I see. How was the water?”
“Frigid.”
“Everyone knows you can’t get in before July.”
She leaned on the balustrade and matched his posture. “Now, where is the fun in doing what everyone says?”
“A fellow rebel, I see. With your friend nearby, may I assume you are not here in the hopes of marrying me?”
“You assume correctly. May I?” She gestured to his cigar, so he handed it over. She took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out slowly before passing it back. “Cuban. Nice. Besides, you aren’t interested in marrying any of us.”
He stared at the expanse of dark lawn and willed his voice steady. “I’m not?”
“Of course not.”
“The purpose of the party is no secret. So enlighten me as to how you are certain I don’t wish to marry any of you, Miss Young.”
“Nellie, please. May I call you Harrison?”
“I think we are beyond formality at this point.” He gestured toward his dressing gown. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
“You don’t want to marry any of us because you are clearly in love with Maddie.”
The cigar fell out of his hand and dropped onto the stone terrace. He bent to pick it up, buying himself a few seconds of time to compose a response. “That’s absurd,” he said when he recovered. “We are friends.”
“I have plenty of male friends, and I don’t stare at them the way you and Maddie do when you think the other is not watching.”
Maddie stared at him? Interesting. His mood lifted significantly. “Are you always this forthright?”
“Women who play by the rules do not get far in this life.”
“A progressive, I see.”
“I don’t consider it an insult, if you’re wondering. A progressive woman merely wishes to improve the lot for all women.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I prefer bold women who know what they want.”
“Yes, that much is obvious.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Nellie smirked up at him. “Harrison, if you truly want one of these women to marry you, then you need to work a bit harder to conceal, you know . . . the other thing.”
His feelings for Maddie. “I will try. Thank you, Nellie.”
“Oh. Excuse me.”
He turned at the familiar female voice and his pulse doubled, tripled, as blood rushed through his veins.
Maddie had stepped onto the terrace, also wrapped in a thin dressing gown. Her gaze bounced between Harrison and Nellie. “Am I interrupting?”