Newport Summer (18 page)

Gannon, Audrey, and her parents stood with Caroline
Astor in the receiving line to greet the guests. Beside
him, Audrey was pale and lovely in a new Worth gown of palest ocean blue trimmed in a thousand hand-sewn
seed pearls to show off the deeper hues of the sapphire
ring.

It had been a week since she’d accepted his proposal.
The week had been filled with the business of marriage.
Although Gannon was no stranger to the nature of marriages involving a peer of the realm, he’d never been
quite so intimately involved in the many details of acquiring a bride. Wilson St. Clair had kept him occupied
with the negotiations and contracts attaching to marrying a modern American heiress.

In the end, despite Gannon’s protests, Wilson St. Clair
conferred on the couple the princely sum of 1.5 million
dollars in railroad stock with a guaranteed yield of five
percent, or roughly 20,000 pounds sterling a year. In addition, there was an initial settlement of 500,000 American dollars. That didn’t count the money St. Clair put
aside for Audrey’s personal use and the trust fund for the
heirs. For a man who’d been pinching pence for several
years, the sums were mind-boggling.

When Gannon said as much, St. Clair dismissed the
largesse with a wave of his hand. “It is in accord with
the current expectation. Besides, Violet says the settlement when Consuelo Vanderbilt marries Marlborough
will make this one look like pennies.”

Gannon stifled a laugh in the receiving line, reflecting
on the conversation. The poor duke hadn’t even bought
a ticket to America yet, and his future was already sealed.

Audrey elbowed him. “What are you smiling at?”

“I recalled something your father said.”

“I am sure my father is much more amusing than my
mother,” she said drolly between passing guests.

“I don’t know about `amusing,’ but he’s certainly as
persistent,” Gannon said quietly so as not to be overheard.

“I find that hard to believe.” Audrey rolled her eyes, and Gannon laughed. “It’s not funny. You didn’t spend
the week looking at swatches of white fabric. What does
it matter? I can’t tell the difference between a color
called `snow’ and another called `blancmange.’ That’s
not counting all the variations of ecru and pearl. Truly,
it’s no laughing matter.”

It wasn’t, not if the hints of shadows under Audrey’s
eyes were evidence of the strain. Gannon reached for
her hand and squeezed it in the folds of her silken
skirts. “If it’s any consolation, you look beautiful.”

The last guest passed them with greetings, and their
first duty of the evening was discharged. One benefit of
being engaged was that he could keep Audrey at his side
all evening. Gannon thrilled to the feel of her hand on
his arm and the knowledge that it would always be there.

The orchestra struck up an opening waltz in deference to the English tradition of letting the engaged couple lead out the first dance as a waltz. Amid the applause
that followed Wilson St. Clair’s announcement, Gannon
swept Audrey onto the dance floor. She fitted perfectly
in his arms, and she waltzed with elegance, matching
each step with his, but the sparkle he was used to seeing
in her eyes was absent. He told himself it was just the fatigue of the engagement. He would speak to Violet
himself and tell her to cut back on the planning. It was
too much for Audrey.

By the time they went into supper, Gannon could not
convince himself to ignore Audrey’s lack of spirit, although he could tell she was trying gallantly to hide it.
He waited until after the Champagne toast to pull her
aside. With a gentle pressure on her arm, he guided her
out to a private alcove while the others continued to eat
their supper.

“Audrey, are you well?” Gannon asked once they
were alone.

“Yes, of course”

“You haven’t seemed yourself tonight. I am worried
about you” He rather thought a happy bride-to-be would
look more radiant. The brides he’d met had looked quite
happy during their engagements, especially the ones marrying up.

“It’s all come as such a shock. There’s been so much
so soon,” Audrey hedged.

Gannon saw the statement for what it was. “Stop, Audrey. Don’t lie to me like that. If you are uncomfortable
with our arrangement, you must tell me” It cost him
everything to say that.

Audrey shook her head fiercely. “No, I won’t see you
jilted. I saw the settlements my father drew up. That
money would secure Camberly for generations. I know
how much you love Camberly. I won’t see you lose that
because I played the fickle heart”

“And I won’t have Camberly’s happiness built on your own unhappiness, Audrey. Camberly will be fine. The
railroad money will see it through the next few years, and
by then I’ll find a way to make ends meet” Gannon took
both her hands in his. “Tell me the truth, Audrey. If it
were just you and me, there was no title, no Camberly to
save, would you still marry me?”

He knew her answer before she spoke it. Tears welled
in her eyes, giving them the appearance of watery gems.
“No, not this fall. I am sorry, Gannon. I can’t give up my
dreams.”

“You’re not giving them up. You’re trading them for
different ones, new ones,” Gannon argued softly, fighting the urge to kiss away the errant tear that had started
to roll down her cheek.

“I know what you’ve offered me. But it’s not the same.
I don’t mean to be an excellent private pianist, Gannon. I
mean to be a performer. I am certain that’s not acceptable for a countess”

“I don’t care. I know a few theatre patrons. I’ll personally see that performances are arranged” He was
begging now, and he didn’t care. He was losing Audrey
as surely as if she were a boat sailing out to sea and he
still standing on the shore.

“Please don’t, Gannon. I have to go to Vienna and try
this, or I’ll spend the rest of my life never knowing what
I could have accomplished.”

“We’ll change the date of the wedding. We can marry
next spring, next summer even. We can marry in June in London, the most fashionable time of all for a wedding.”
Gannon dangled every carrot he could think of. “I’ll wait
for you, Audrey.”

Audrey shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “No,
it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t know how long this might
take.”

An awkward silence filled the conversation. When it
became clear Audrey wouldn’t change her mind, Gannon said, “The break will be my responsibility. I won’t
have you tainted by scandal, and perhaps your parents
will be more amenable to having their brokenhearted
daughter going off to Vienna to recover.”

Audrey nodded. “I would be grateful. We can do it at
the Fishes’ Harvest Ball, August twenty-second. It closes
the Season”

“Very well,” Gannon said stiffly. “And until then?”

“I think we’ll have to act as if nothing has changed. I
hope it isn’t too much to ask,” Audrey said.

“Nothing is too much for your happiness.” Gannon
found he meant it, even if it meant losing her. It was better this way instead of finding out five years into a resentful marriage, when there was nothing to do but tough
it out. However, he rather suspected the next three weeks
would be akin to rubbing salt into a wound.

The following three weeks were indeed frenetic. Gannon often wondered if it truly was more hectic, more
crammed full of activities, or if that was merely his perspective. But perhaps everyone was feeling a certain desperation, knowing that the luxurious Season was about to
end and the idyll would be over. Back to New York, back
to Paris, back to the Continent.

Not that the Newport Season was any kind of vacation.
Gannon barely had a moment’s peace. Now that the engagement had been announced, Wilson St. Clair took him
everywhere. Only Gannon and Audrey knew the engagement was a sham, so Gannon played his part dutifully,
accompanying Wilson to the Reading Room, crewing admirably on the St. Clair yacht in preparation for the cup
races the last week of the Season.

At least the physical exertions of sailing took his
mind briefly off the debacle with Audrey. But then evening came, and the reminders were back tenfold. Every
night he squired her to a ball or entertainment, danced
her around the stylish Newport dance floors, laughed
with her, took countless mental pictures of her in his
mind to store up against all the time that would come
without her.

Soon after their private decision to cry off the engagement, Audrey had asked how he was. He’d smiled
and said he was fine, that he understood perfectly the
motivations for her choice, that he supported her. She
had a talent she could not waste. She’d smiled broadly
and hugged him. His acceptance made her happy, and
so he hid his broken heart, even though he’d meant every
word of his support.

Whatever free time he had, he spent it in the St.
Clair’s conservatory listening to Audrey practice. The
St. Clairs had moved a small desk into the room for him
so he could conduct his business and correspondence
while not stepping away from Audrey’s side. Gannon
snidely wondered if that was more out of Violet’s fear
that Audrey would let the eligible earl slip away than it
was out of generosity.

Gannon studied the curve of Audrey’s shoulders
from his desk in the conservatory, his mind only half on
the letter he was penning to Garrett Atherton. It would
be the last letter he’d send. Anything he had to say to
Garrett, he would soon be able to say in person. Idly, he flipped the pages of a small desk calendar. In three weeks,
he’d be home.

The cup races, a two-day affair, started tomorrow.
The beginning of the end. The last week of the Season
would start with the races this year and end with the
traditional Harvest Ball at Crossways. He would leave
for New York two days after that, take rooms at the Delmonico Hotel for a night, and sail the next day. Alone.

“You’re staring,” Audrey said from the piano bench.

“I’m thinking,” Gannon corrected, stretching and rising from his desk.

“About what?” She rose too, meeting him at the window overlooking the garden. They’d been able to continue their companionable friendship since their decision,
and Gannon cherished these quiet moments with her.
He would miss this the most, having someone to talk
with about whatever was on his mind.

“About going home. I’ll be home in time for the harvest. It seems I’ve been away for ages instead of a few
months. And you, Audrey. When do you leave? Have you
made your arrangements?” Gannon asked quietly. For
propriety’s sake, the door to the room was left open.

Audrey shook her head. “I have not been able to find
a sailing schedule without drawing undue suspicion. I
think I’ll have to rely on my father to make the arrangements at the last minute, or else it will look awkward for
me to have purchased a ticket so far ahead of time.”

Gannon nodded. “That makes sense. Still, come
here.” He drew her by the hand to his desk and opened a small drawer. “Here’s a sailing schedule. It’s the one I
brought with me in case I needed to change my ticket.”
He ran a finger down the column of sailing times and
gave her a sidelong grin. “I took the liberty of marking
a few dates for you. Here, there’s a ship sailing from
New York on the tenth of September. There’s one earlier, on the first, but you may need more time to convince your parents”

Audrey placed a hand over his. “I can’t believe you
did that for me. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

Gannon stiffened and withdrew his hand. “Don’t, Audrey. I’ve given you my heart. That won’t change simply
because you don’t want to marry me at present”

A pained look flitted across Audrey’s face. “This is
not easy for me either. Gannon, I-”

Wilson St. Clair made an ill-timed entrance into the
room. Whatever Audrey had been about to say would
be left unsaid. “My dear boy, come down and see the
boat. We’re ready for tomorrow. Not even Astor’s yacht
will catch us”

Audrey smiled gamely at Gannon. “Let me get my
hat, and I’ll come too”

Men had all the fun, Audrey pouted the next afternoon, sitting in the open-air carriage with her mother.
The day was beautiful, blue skied and white clouded,
the wind on the water perfect for racing. Gannon was
out on the water, with the wind in his hair, the sun on
his face, while she was stuck in the carriage wearing a hat, twirling a parasol, and viewing all the excitement
through binoculars.

The races had started that morning, and those who
wished to watch the yachts’ progression could follow
their course from the cliffs in carriages once the racers
came around the bluffs. To kill time before the boats
came into view, a grand picnic had been planned, but
Audrey had little interest in eating. She’d kept picking
up the binoculars, eager for the sight of Gannon and her
father’s boat. At last, a call had gone up from the picnickers that the sloops had been sighted. Everyone had
piled into their carriages.

Audrey found her father’s boat in a tight competition
with two others at the head of the race. Proudly, the St.
Clair colors flew from the rigging-green and goldthe color of money, someone had once joked. “They’re
tied for second with the Fishes, and the Astor yacht has
a slight lead,” Audrey reported, breathless. The race was
close, and it was exciting. Not everyone crewed their
own boats. Many of the boaters hired captains and crews
for the big race, much the way horse owners hired jockeys and trainers. But Audrey’s father captained his own
yacht and sailed with his own crew. Today, he was holding his own against the professionals.