An Unlikely Suitor (39 page)

His voice was soft in tone and volume. “Remember how we used to talk about having a farm in the country with dozens of horses? You were going to train them and I—”

She whipped around to face him. “I can’t ride anymore.”

“Yes you can.”

She took a breath to argue with him, but he repeated himself.

“Yes, you can, Ro. You’ve let other people tell you what you
can’t
do so much you’ve begun to believe it. I would never hold you back like that. Will never.”

Rowena didn’t know what to say. Morrie had never talked to her like this. “Why say all this, Morrie? Why now?”

He held out his hand. She took it and sat in the chair. The strength of his grip was both powerful and poignant. It spoke of security and refuge, and a constancy that brought tears to her eyes.

“I’ve always been here for you, Rowena. And I always will.”

Her throat was too tight to answer, but she nodded.

“Unlike everyone else, I only want what’s best for you, what will make you happy.”

Finally, she found her words. “But I don’t know what will make me happy.”

“Sure you do.”

But she didn’t. “I’ve been brought up a certain way. I’m the only daughter, the loyal, obedient child, and I—”

“You are not a child at all.”

She knew he was right, yet she was still beholden to her parents, her family’s name and reputation, and the expectations of society. “But I . . . but they . . .”

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “ ‘A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.’ ”

Rowena didn’t know what to say. Was she doing what God wanted her to do? Had she even attempted to know His plans for her life?

“Don’t make any decision on your own, Ro. I’ve been praying for you to see what I see, to feel what I feel . . . to
know
.”

He’d been praying for her while she’d been trying to handle things on her own? She’d always considered herself a godly person: supplicant, dutiful, reverent. Yet when it came down to the meat of her faith—prayer—she found herself lacking.

“There can be duty without blind obedience, Ro. To obey your parents’ wishes when it makes a mockery of marriage is wrong. Promising to ‘love, honor, and cherish’ is sacred.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Right now you’re on a path that will lead you to marrying someone to avoid making your own choice, to avoid responsibility for your own life. God created free will. Use yours, Ro.”

Everything he said made sense. But to take responsibility scared her. What if she made the wrong decision? By letting others make her decisions for her, she could blame them for the missteps of her life.

Morrie said the next in nearly a whisper. “ ‘ For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?’ ”

She pulled her hand away, taking offense. “I’m not losing my—”

He took her hand back and once again she felt his strength. “You risk losing
you
.”

Rowena bowed her head, wishing she could pull his strength into herself.

He continued in a whisper. “Where is the girl who was joyful and free, who laughed and danced with me, embracing life and all—?”

She lifted her head. “She broke her leg and became a cripple.”

Morrie relinquished her hand. “Excuses.”

More than anything, Rowena wanted his touch.

He let his head fall deeper upon the pillow. “I’ll take that medicine now.”

Rowena nodded and poured the dose. “You need your rest.”

He shook his head. “You know what I need. What you need.”

She paused at the door and blew him a kiss.

He closed his eyes before it reached him.

Rowena didn’t want to go inside, where the walls of
Porte au Ciel
would loom over her. The name of the house may have meant “Gate of Heaven,” but today she felt as though being inside would prevent her from gaining access to God.

She entered the rear veranda from the grass and took a seat on a wicker rocking chair, away from the entrance to the house. Once settled into the cushion, she let the forward-and-back movement synchronize with the rhythm of her thoughts.

How odd that her time alone with Morrie today had changed the very fabric of her thinking. Why was today different from the other times they’d talked?

Because today he told you he loves you.

And yet she’d known that, hadn’t she?

He loves me as a sister.

At the lie, she stopped rocking. As much as she’d deluded herself regarding Morrie’s feelings, she knew his love was the kind of a man for a woman, a romantic love.

How long had she known?

She grazed through her memories and within seconds realized she’d always known. Their childhood plans of marrying had evolved from a game to something genuine—albeit unspoken.

Until now.

But genuine or not, the fact remained they could never marry. She was a Langdon, and her parents were set on her marrying Edward as a solidification of her father’s business partner—

Suddenly, the absurdity of the match hit her like a slap. Marrying to solidify a business partnership? What about love? What about pride, and family honor, and truth, and doing the right thing?

Was marrying Edward the right thing?

She remembered Morrie’s words. By gaining status in the world, would she be risking her soul?

“You risk losing
you
.”

Rowena leaned forward, cupping her face in her hands.
Oh, God, please show me the right thing to do. Please show me what you want me to do.

She sat in silence a moment, hoping God would send her a sign that would guide her and show her the—

“Rowena? Are you all right?”

Mother walked toward her. Rowena sat up, mourning the interruption and the lack of a clear answer from the Lord. “I’m fine, Mother. Do you need me for something?”

She held out a note. “This just came for you.”

Rowena opened it and read:
Dear Rowena, I’m sorry but I can’t accompany you to the Dashells’ this evening. I will see you tomorrow. Yours, Edward.

Mother was waiting. “Well?”

“Edward can’t go with me tonight.”

“Whyever not?”

“He doesn’t say.”

Mother shook her head. “That boy. Doesn’t he realize how imperative it is for you two to be seen together at every convenience? People will begin to talk and think you aren’t engaged.”

And there it was. “But we’re not engaged, Mother.”

“You nearly are. It’s been arranged.”

“By you and Father.”

“And the DeWitts.”

She pushed herself to standing. “What about what Edward and I want?”

Her mother looked as shocked as if Rowena had uttered a string of curses. In a way, perhaps she had, for she’d certainly expressed an opinion akin to blasphemy.

Mother put a hand to the cameo at her neck. “I thought you liked Edward.”

“I do. And I believe he likes me.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Rowena sighed heavily and looked out to the ocean that cared not a whit about this conversation. Perhaps she should take note. . . .

She faced her mother and offered a smile. “ ‘A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.’ ”

“What—?”

“If you’ll excuse me, Mother.”

This time when Rowena entered the house, she had no fear of the looming walls, for the gates of heaven
had
been opened. God had heard her prayer.

And answered.

Lucy relished being on Dante’s arm, strolling along the busy streets of the city center. Although the experience lacked the intimacy they gained on the Cliff Walk, it gave Lucy a truer feeling of what life would be like once they were married and forging a life together as a couple amongst the world.

She pointed to a shop window. “Ooh, look at that hat. I love the way the feathers are made to bend around each other in a spiral.” She stopped to study it. “I’ll have to tell Mamma about it so she can copy—”

“No need to tell her . . .” Dante pulled her inside, where he bought her the hat.

“I’ve never had anyone buy me anything,” she said as the clerk put her old hat in a hatbox.

“Never?” Dante asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

Lucy remembered Angelo buying her a flower from a cart once, or on second thought, had he simply retrieved a fallen flower from the street?

They left the shop with Dante carrying the box for her. “Everyone’s noticing your new hat,” he whispered. “They’re jealous.”

People jealous of her? It was another new—

Lucy stopped and craned her head to see through the other people, walking on the sidewalk.

“What?” Dante asked.

That looked like Bonwitter.

She continued to peer around people, hoping—yet fearing—to see the same man. What if it was him? But how could it be him? Was his hate for Lucy so strong he’d traveled to Newport to get revenge?

“Lucy? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, dispelling the image. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m just seeing things.”

Dante put two fingers toward his eyes. “Only see these eyes loving you, all right?”

All right.

“Where are you taking me?” Sofia asked Hugh as he helped her down from the carriage.

“To the best restaurant in Newport, matey.”

“But I’m not dressed fancy enough—”

“Not that kind of ‘best’—the best food. Come on.”

They zigzagged through the crowd on the sidewalk until they came to a restaurant called The Captain’s Bounty. When they entered, the man behind the bar called out, “Hugh’s here! Dump a lobster in the water!”

Hugh placed Sofia in front of him, his hands upon her shoulders. “Captain McEnery, I’d like you to meet Sofia. Sofia, meet the captain.”

Sofia nodded, and the captain winked at her. “You like lobster, young lady?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes grew large. “You don’t know? Well, now, we’ll take care of that.” To Hugh he said, “Take a seat and I’ll ’ave Molly get you goin’.”

“Crab legs, scallops, and shrimp too, Captain.”

He laughed. “A seafood feast, coming right up.”

Hugh pulled Sofia to a table by the window, where a plump woman accosted them, setting hands upon her ample hips. “So, Hugh. Ale for the two of yous?”

“Just one, Molly. And a root beer for the lady.”

“What’s root beer?” Sofia asked.

“You’ll see.”

Soon after, Molly brought Hugh a mug of beer and Sofia a bottle that said “Hires” on it.

“Taste it,” he said.

The taste was tangy yet earthy. “It’s good.”

“It’s just the beginning of new tastes for you, Sofia.”

She could believe it. “I’ve never eaten in a restaurant either,” she said.

He gaped at her. “You’re joshing me.”

Sofia regretted her confession.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m honored to be the one to give you your first dining experience. And The Captain’s Bounty is the perfect place for it, you’ll see.”

“It’s already perfect,” she said. “Without the food.”

While they waited for their meal they looked out the window, to the street and the harbor and the bay beyond. “God lives here,” Hugh said.

“Here? In this restaurant?”