Heiress (17 page)

She lowered them to the earth, expecting something harsh and cold. Yes, the cold nipped at her feet, but as she burrowed her toes into the milky sand, she began to giggle. “It’s…creamy. No, it’s like sugar. Wet sugar.”

Beside her, he untied his own shoes, set them aside, dug his feet in. She stared at the creamy white flesh of his feet, the strength in his ankles, his legs.

He held out his hand. “Hold up your skirt.” Then he hoisted her up, and before she could protest, dragged her to the surf.

“Bennett, wait—”

But he didn’t. Just pulled her right in up to her ankles, where her feet sank into the sand and the waves frothed its cold batter around her ankles.

The sea.

Another wave spilled over her then tunneled out the sand beneath her feet. She laughed, nearly fell, and Bennett caught her.

“I love it.” She glanced up at him, saw herself reflected in his eyes. Saw her smile, her laughter. “I love it.”

“Me too,” he said, grinning, holding her hands as another wave poured in. “I could get lost in the sea.”

They stood in the surf as the ocean tugged at them, cajoling them into its mystery, the moon the only witness to the truth as it settled into Jinx’s heart.

This man was the Worth son she wished she’d married.

“That was absolutely not out.”

Jinx approached the net, pointing where Bennett’s serve had landed in the opposite court. The morning sun shown down upon the clipped, pressed grass of the court, ringed inside the horseshoe courtyard of the Newport Casino. The dewy smell of earth and fresh-cut grass had long surrendered to the rigors of their early morning match.

Elise Donahue met her on the other side. “It was on the line. And on the line means out.”

Jinx glanced from her to Grayson, Elise’s brother, laughing as he backed up to the service line. “Jinx, you don’t have to argue every call.”

Maybe not, but she had to do something to salvage their match. Jinx felt as if she might be combusting from the inside out, beads of unsightly perspiration glistening on her skin and rolling down her corset, dampening the stiff white collar of her cotton shirtwaist and her flannel tennis skirt, while Elise appeared unblemished by the August morning sun, her white tennis shirt and skirt stiff with starch, her veiled sailor’s cap neatly pinned.

Bennett had been watching the unmarried debutante all morning.

At any moment, Jinx’s own hat might fly like a clay pigeon off her head. She wanted to claw the veil, tied neatly at the back brim, from around her face and allow herself a good look at the game.

Maybe then, she wouldn’t miss so many shots.

Maybe then, Bennett’s gaze might find itself back on her.

“It’s okay, Jinx. Their serve. It’s still forty-love.” Bennett moved into position, readying himself for Grayson’s serve. But he glanced at her and winked.

Something dangerous took flight inside her.

He appeared every inch the gentleman sportsman this morning in his cream linen tennis suit with the blue stripes, the white tie and a dark blue derby, a pair of suede court shoes. She’d given him Foster’s racquet—a nearly unused Slazengor Demon. “I had the catgut restrung by my footman when he worked on my racquet,” she said when she handed it to him.

“You mean to win,” Bennett said, offering his arm. Her hand fit so neatly, so easily into it after two weeks of jaunting around Newport, making introductions at luncheons, competing with him during coaching contests, pairing with him in croquet at lawn parties, and besting other doubles at tennis.

Never, however, had he shown any interest in anyone’s company besides her own. Perhaps she had become spoiled with his attention.

His gentlemanly attention. Aside from their risqué wade into the sea, he’d done nothing to stir up memories of their clandestine night together. Nothing to make her feel sordid.

Nothing to indicate, in fact, that he even remembered holding her in his arms. Kissing her.

But he’d made her that promise, hadn’t he?

“The Donahues hold last year’s doubles title. Wouldn’t it be lovely to dethrone them?” Jinx said, lining up at half-court. It helped that her father owned the Newport Casino—her presence at the tennis club seemed expected. Even with Bennett.

Grayson’s serve landed in the service square and Bennett lobbed it back easily. Elise returned and Jinx stepped back, nearly into Bennett, to return the shot to Grayson. He scooped it up and sent it high over the net, the perfect setup for Jinx to smash it back to him.

Grayson let it go with a shake of his head. “You going to let Bennett play, or should we let him retire to the bar?”

Jinx glanced back at Bennett. He shrugged.

“Sorry.”

“You can’t help it. But I’m here, just in case you want a partner.”

He finished off the game with two neat aces.

Elise met her at the net. “You play beautifully, Jinx. I daresay you’ve been practicing. Will you attend the Open next week?”

“Of course—my best to you and Grayson.”

“I think you and Bennett should enter.” Grayson shook Bennett’s hand. From Irish influence, he had kind eyes and an estate of millions. Recently widowed after his young wife passed in childbirth, Grayson had been eligible during the season she would have debuted.

Jinx might have been his wife.

Elise slipped her gloved hand into Bennett’s, smiled up at him. “Newport is lucky to have such an accomplished sportsman among us.”

Jinx didn’t miss her smile, the way she held Bennett’s eyes. Something twisted inside Jinx when Bennett smiled back. “I believe the same could be said about you, Miss Donahue.”

Her smile affixed, Jinx shook Grayson’s hand. “I think we’ll simply watch you two win, won’t we, Bennett?” She let go of Grayson, slipped her hand under Bennett’s arm, despite the fact he still seemed transfixed with Elise’s smile.

Her golden hair.

Her willowy body.

Of course she bewitched him. “Bennett, we have luncheon plans.” She gave his arm a tug.

“Indeed.” He seemed to come back to himself then, traded his racquet into the other hand, crooked his arm. “Perhaps I could call on you later, Elise?” He looked at Jinx, as if for permission.

The unexpected urge to wail filled Jinx’s chest, but she nodded. He’d need a society escort, and since she was his married sister-in-law, she could easily fill that role. “Perhaps this afternoon?”

“Lovely. I’ll be at home today,” Elise said. She looked at Bennett, such glorious hope in her eyes. “Thank you for besting us.”

Jinx barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

A court attendant gathered their racquets, secured them in the satchels, then followed them out as Bennett walked her back to the Casino meeting rooms in silence. His smile had vanished. “Would you like some lemonade?”

“No. I need to return home and repair my toilette if we are going out calling today.”

He said nothing as they exited the building to their landau. He let her grip slide from his arm and allowed the footman to help her into the carriage, climbing up across from her.

He glanced at her, his voice tight. “Did you know Elise was a debutante when you arranged this match?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, his lips knotted, suppressing all other comments.

He didn’t look at her as they drove home.

And why not? He knew a beautiful woman when he saw one.

Jinx tried to drink in the sight of the harbor, so many yachts glinting in the sun, dappled upon the water. The smell of fresh fish, wet nets, gas, and oil obliterated the sweetness of the sea, and shoppers, their baskets full of fruits and breads, made her stomach roar. She’d been famished after tennis, but now—

She pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

His tone nearly made her want to cry. What was her problem that she flitted from one extreme emotion to the next? One second she wanted to fight Grayson for points, the next, pummel Elise and Bennett for their smiles, and now she just wanted to cry.

And, she felt ill. She reached up, untied her veil, and lifted off her hat as Bennett watched, wide eyed. “What are you doing?”

“Fanning myself. I think I need to eat lunch. Too much exercise.”

“What did you have to eat this morning?”

“I wasn’t hungry. Toast and tea.”

Bennett turned around in his seat. “Driver, please stop.”

The carriage pulled up to the side of the road. “Stay here,” Bennett said, and hopped down. She put her head back on the seat. Maybe she should instruct the driver to put up the top lest the
Newport Daily News
see her collapsed in her landau. But the sun seeped into her skin, kissing it, and the sounds of the village lulled her and—

“Jinx?”

The voice roused her and she opened her eyes. Where—

Bennett had his arms around her as she leaned into his chest on the seat of the landau. They’d returned home, the Rosehaven gardens perfuming the air, the movement of a fan—her hat—a light breeze before her face. As she pushed herself up, he scooped her up in his arms.

“Bennett.”

“Shh. You’re tired. Too much activity this morning, I fear. And it’s so hot out. I left to purchase you an orange and returned to find you snoozing on the carriage seat. I just hope the sun didn’t burn you.” He glanced at the driver as he said it, but Jinx was too busy tucking her head against his shoulder, her arm looping up around his neck. He again smelled of that Parisian fragrance—woody, yet with a hint of citrus and the efforts on the court this morning. She had the terrible urge to press her lips against the well of his neck, to taste his skin, the sense of it stirring—

Oh.

Oh!

She leaned back, looked at him, and knew she wore her embarrassment on her face when he frowned at her as he carried her into the foyer. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m okay. You can put me down.”

“No.” He shrugged past the butler and her lady’s maid and carried her up the stairs to her room.

He didn’t need to ask where it was, naturally, and he pushed open the door with his foot.

“I’m really okay, Bennett. I was just fatigued after our match.”

He set her down on the bed as Amelia rushed in after them. He turned to her. “She is hot and hungry. Draw her a bath and tell the cook to send some nourishment up immediately. She’ll be retiring to her room this afternoon.”

“But we have to call on Elise.”

He rounded on her, something dark and unsettled in his eyes. “Please stop trying so hard to find me a match. I promise, I can manage just fine on my own.”

He turned to go and the abruptness of his words, his departure, pushed tears into her eyes. She closed them, turned away.

She felt his hand on hers, then, closing. She opened her eyes and found his blue eyes on her, a kindness in them that she could never seem to slack her thirst for.

“I will see you tonight, at dinner, after which I promise to best you in a game of cribbage.” Then he winked and strode from the room.

* * * * *

“I fear you have created trouble for us, Jinx.”

Phoebe leaned up from the dining table where the butler had laid out the bookplates, which listed the descriptions and quantities of the china, silver, crystal, and gold services.

“What do you mean?” Jinx had already approved the menu for the motoring cotillion from the chef—terrapin, creamed oysters, lobster salad, salmon mousse, salad, bouillon, ice creams, cake, coffee, tea, and plenty of champagne. She intended to empty out Foster’s supply.

She’d already met with the housekeeper, determining the rooms to be used as well as the floral arrangements—they’d feature the roses from their own gardens and ship in arrangements from Fleishmann and New York City. They’d secured Paul Whiteman and his orchestra for the evening.

Engraved, vellum invitations had already been sent, hand-scripted by Maris de Baril. “We only have the seating chart and the decisions about the footmen’s livery to make. With nearly a month to spare. I believe this might be my best-planned motor coaching weekend ever.”

Phoebe, still dressed in her shirtwaist and skirt, her dark hair coiled tight at the nape of her neck, shook her head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Surely this cotillion will be the finest of the season.” She turned to the butler. “Please leave.”

Neville bowed and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

“Mother?”

“You’re in love with him.”

Jinx let a beat pass, swallowed, and affected innocence. “Yes. He’s my husband.”

Her mother let out a sound that might have been a laugh had it not sounded so harsh. “You cannot play games with me, Jinx. Bennett. You’re in love with Bennett.”

Bennett. Yes. His winks, his laughter, his blue eyes in hers had been scrubbing at her mind all day since she awoke from her nap. Was he calling on Elise, right now? Taking tea with her? Walking with her through the gardens of her home? Perhaps he’d taken her for a carriage ride.

Jinx stared down at the bookplates, turning pages. “I think the Dresden might be too formal.”

“Don’t tell me you are unaware of your own feelings.”

“He is my husband’s brother. I am supposed to find him a wife. Of course that necessitates getting to know his personality, finding a suitable match. And escorting him to make introductions. It’s all proper, Mother.”

“I see how you look at him. How you smile when he enters the room. How you laugh together. You did this with Foster, when you first met.”

“It’s my nature to be kind to my houseguests.”

Phoebe closed her eyes, took a breath. If Jinx didn’t know her better, she might believe her to be praying. She slid into a chair opposite her daughter and took her hand, meeting her eyes. “I understand happiness in marriage has eluded you, Jinx. I understand disappointment and the need for affection. But this affair will destroy you and everything you have attained.”

Jinx pulled her hand away. “I am not having an affair, Mother.” She managed to press out those words without a hiccough, despite the tightening of her throat. “We are simply relatives.”

“Jinx. Do not assume that I do not understand the situation.”

It was the texture of her tone, so soft, so foreign, that whisked tears into Jinx’s eyes. She tightened her jaw, drew in a shaky breath. Couldn’t look at her mother. “He’s just—he’s just kind, Mother. And attentive. And he listens to me. And he makes me feel…” She closed her eyes, held in her word. Beautiful.