No Other Love (18 page)

Too nervous to sit down, he roamed about the library, studying the titles without really seeing them.

“Is there something you need, Luke?” his father asked.

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just come out with it.” He paused a moment. “Rose and I are to be married.”

Jonas stared at him.

“Do you mean to say you’re marrying the maid Charlotte dismissed yesterday?” his father asked, incredulous.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve asked for her hand today and it was agreed we’d marry in a month’s time.”

“I see,” Jonas said with admirable calm. “Would you care to explain how this came to pass? And what am I to make of the accusations against her?”

Luke scowled, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he paced a few steps away.

“Whatever Charlotte’s complaints, they weren’t of Rose’s making. The blame can be laid squarely on myself and Nathan. I don’t imagine she told you that Nathan attacked Rose while I was away, and yet Rose was blamed for attracting his attention. He attacked her again in the carriage last night. I don’t like to think what would have happened had I not come upon them in time.”

Jonas took this in, his expression grave and resigned.

“I hate to think she endured such treatment under my roof, but of course I believe you. What Nathan did was unforgiveable, and I’ll have to give some thought as to what to do about it. But I’m troubled that you had some kind of relationship with Rose while she worked under my roof. You know very well my feelings on that subject.”

Luke made himself look his father in the eye, though he was mildly ashamed on this point. Certainly his actions were not above reproach.

“I didn’t dishonor her,” he replied. “In any case, my intentions now are nothing but honorable.”

Jonas looked thoughtfully at Luke and at last gave a nod.

“If this is what you want then you have my blessing. You’ll understand if I feel far from enthusiastic at present. However, as you care for her, I will do all I can to make her feel welcome.”

Luke didn’t realize how much his father’s blessing meant to him until that moment. Relief flooded through him.

“I know this won’t be easy for you. The last thing I want is for this to cause a rift between you and Charlotte.”

“No doubt Charlotte will find this difficult to swallow, but I’ll deal with her myself.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking suddenly weary. “It hasn’t escaped my attention that the two of you have never cared much for each other. You needn't deny it,” he said as Luke tried to cut in. “I care for Charlotte, but I’m aware of her shortcomings. Perhaps I ought to have done more to ease the tensions between you, but it's not in my nature to intervene in such matters. Now the least I can do is show my support, and insist that Charlotte do the same.”

“I’m afraid I can’t imagine her welcoming Rose into the family. It would be a lot to ask even in less trying circumstances. But I won’t let anyone hurt Rose. I told her I'd take care of her and I mean to keep that promise.”

“The people in this town won’t be as easily persuaded as I. Are you prepared for that? Is she?”

“I'm marrying her regardless.”

His father studied him for a long moment before nodding to himself. “You're in love with her.”

Luke started to speak but then stopped, unsure what he meant to say.

In love with Rose?

Certainly he cared about her. He wanted to keep her safe and make her happy. And God knew he wanted her in his bed as often and for as long as possible. But that had nothing to do with love. He’d sworn never to fall in love again and he had no intention of changing his mind. After all, he’d once loved Catherine and his feelings for her had bled away to nothing but regret.

“I don’t know what to call it, I only know I’ve thought of little else since I met her, and I won’t lose her.”

Jonas nodded his head and smiled as if at a fond memory.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter what you call it, if that’s how you feel.”

“I am sorry for whatever trouble this causes you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“I believe you’ve done quite enough.”

Luke turned at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. She stood in the doorway, her face set, her mouth grim. Luke regarded her warily.

“You have some nerve coming to this house with such revolting news,” she said, her eyes blazing with unconcealed fury.

“Charlotte,” Jonas began, a note of warning in his voice, “as my son, Luke will always be welcome in our house.”

Charlotte’s face whitened at being chastised in front of her stepson. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she stood there, momentarily speechless. Much as Luke would have liked to give her a piece of his mind, he was determined to try to salvage things for his father’s sake.

“I’m sure this comes as a shock, Charlotte. Perhaps we ought not to discuss it until everyone’s had time to think things through,” Luke replied, trying to be civil for his father’s sake. “Things are not always as they seem.”

“Of all the…” she began, but just then Nathan sauntered into the room. He stopped cold when he saw Luke and instinctively took a step back.

Luke’s carefully controlled temper was in danger of erupting at the sight of him.

“Quite the little tableau,” Nathan sneered, evidently feeling safe in the company of Jonas and his mother. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“We’re discussing Luke’s engagement,” Jonas replied, in what struck Luke as a carefully neutral tone.

“What are you talking about?”

“He would have us believe he’s marrying the very maid I was forced to turn out yesterday.”

Nathan turned to Luke, his face contorted in rage and disbelief. “That’s not possible. She’s leading you on as she did me. Trollops like her will do anything—”

In one clean punch Luke knocked Nathan to the floor. Blood smeared Nathan’s face as he stared up at Luke, momentarily speechless with shock and rage.

Luke stood over him, knowing he’d made things worse and yet not sorry for it. “If I ever hear you speak of her that way again, I’ll do much worse.”

Luke was so furious, he wanted to lift Nathan back up and knock him down again, but the worthless wretch lay where he was, looking pitiful. Charlotte crouched down beside him and held her handkerchief to his lip to stem the blood. She looked up at Luke, her eyes cold and unforgiving. Then her gaze shifted to Jonas.

“Do you see this? Will you still defend your precious son?”

“Nathan brought this on himself. I have a thing or two to say about his recent behavior, but that can wait.”

Reaching down, Jonas grabbed Nathan’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“I expect you to take this like a man, and I suggest you start by riding home and sobering up. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need a word with Luke.”

Luke followed his father out of the library and upstairs to his study. Silently, his father poured them each a whiskey and together they stood at the big bay window and looked out over the gardens. Even lit by the waning moon it was breathtaking scenery. Once upon a time his mother used to hold impromptu little picnics out in the garden. Even now he couldn’t look upon that rich expanse without bittersweet memories of those days.

“I’m damned sorry about this,” he said, turning to his father. “I’d hoped it would be different.”

“Charlotte is my worry. As for Nathan…I confess I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He wasn’t always like this.

“Whatever the reason, I don’t think recent events will improve him.”

“No, I don’t suppose they will,” Jonas agreed.

***

Rose was looking despairingly at the two dresses laid out on her bed when Vivian came in and stood by her side.

“What exactly are we waiting for?” she teased.

“I was hoping that they would turn into something I can actually wear out in public,” Rose replied, near tears at the sorry state of her wardrobe. “What on earth am I to wear to the play tonight? I can’t possibly be seen in any of these.”

“Well, that’s one thing you shan’t have to worry about any longer. I daresay Mr. Fletcher will make sure you have the finest wardrobe in Boston.”

“I suppose he will,” Rose said, unable to take it all in. She didn’t know what sort of wealth her fiancé had, but it was most likely enough to keep them both quite comfortable.

“I have an idea,” Vivian exclaimed. “You can wear something of mine. We can let out the hem and sew ribbons and lace until it’s as good as new.”

Rose hated feeling sorry for herself, especially over something so inconsequential, but she was terrified of going out with Luke and didn’t want to be an embarrassment to herself or him. Even so, she was not so small-minded that she would alter one of her friend’s dresses just to satisfy her own vanity.

The door chimes sounded and a moment later Sally came into the room.

“There’s a dressmaker here to see you, Rose. She says she’s here to take your measurements.”

Rose gaped at her in surprise. “There must be some mistake. I haven’t arranged any such thing.”

“I have an idea who did,” Vivian said, smiling at her. “Let us go and see what she has to say.”

A perfectly turned-out woman of perhaps five and forty sat, her back ramrod straight and hands clasped in her lap, not quite patiently waiting in the parlor. With her was an assistant, a young lady about Rose’s age who sat meekly beside her. The dressmaker stood as the girls entered.

“Which one of you is Miss Stratton?”

“I am, but there’s been a mistake.”

“There has been no mistake,” she said, her French origins unmistakable. “I am Madame Beauchamp and Mr. Luke Fletcher engaged my services. He has ordered for you as many new dresses and accessories as I deem necessary.”

“But I can’t possibly let him,” Rose exclaimed.

“Of course you can,” the dressmaker replied dismissively. “Now then, how many dresses have you at present?”

Rose was thoroughly cowed. “Three.”

Madame Beauchamp did not blink.

“Well then,” she replied briskly. “It’s fortunate my services have been engaged.”

Over the next hour Rose was measured within an inch of her life while simultaneously questioned at length about her likes and dislikes, in fashion as well as in her daily activities. Madame Beauchamp caught Rose glancing with confusion at Vivian after another of these questions.

“I create dresses that suit each particular woman. Therefore, I must become acquainted with you.”

She had brought with her samples of silks, taffetas, muslins and wools in pastels, neutral colors and deep jewel tones. Rose stood still while Madame selected one after another and held them up to her, furrowing her brow in concentration. Every so often she muttered to herself as her assistant took notes.

“Yes, this one we must have for a ball gown,” or “Absolutely not, it will make you look sallow.”

Before she left, she turned to Rose.

“I have a dress that would suit you much better than the silly girl I made it for. I will alter it and have it dropped off before your play this evening.”

Rose couldn’t believe her good fortune. Inexplicably her eyes filled with tears. Madame Beauchamp looked at her and shook her head.

“Mademoiselle, you must get used to such gifts. You are marrying a man who is very generous with his money. It won’t do to cry every time he gives you something.”

With this the dressmaker took her leave, her assistant trailing behind.

Rose and Vivian looked at each other, eyes wide with sudden mirth.

“Well, it seems as if your prayers were answered,” commented Vivian. “Have you wished for anything else?”

“A great many things, Vivian,” Rose replied. “Though I cannot expect Mr. Fletcher to grant them all.”

Chapter Ten

Rose stood in front of the mirror that evening, unable to believe what she saw. Madame Beauchamp had outdone herself. The gold silk dress she had brought earlier that evening complemented her coloring, and its drape and flares showed off her curves in a way that both pleased and embarrassed her.

Never before had she worn a dress that revealed her shoulders, and she couldn’t help feeling it was improper. The sleeves, which ended at her elbow, were garnished with a fall of lace and ribbon. The skirt was full, the silk whispering when she moved. Madame Beauchamp had even delivered a pair of dyed kid slippers and gloves to complete the ensemble. She hardly recognized the woman in the mirror.

 “Sit down, Rose,” Sally commanded as she entered the room. “Mr. Fletcher will be here in twenty minutes and I still need to dress your hair.”

“I feel as if I’m in costume, pretending to be someone else. What if everyone is able to tell I don’t belong with Luke?”

“Just get that foolishness out of your head. What people think and what’s true are two different things. You’ll get used to your finery in no time.”

Rose tried to relax into the soothing rhythm of Sally’s brush. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured to herself, unable to imagine such a day.

Sally was just putting the finishing touches on Rose’s hair when Vivian came in.

“Rose, have you seen…” Vivian began, stopping when she saw her friend.

“Oh my goodness. Rose, darling, if Mr. Fletcher hadn’t already proposed, he surely would have tonight. You’re absolutely radiant.”

“Vivian, do stop, there’s no need to exaggerate,” Rose admonished, laughing at her.

“She’s not exaggerating,” Sally put in. “You are a sight to behold. And your hair looks quite nice, if I do say so myself,” she added.

Sally had indeed done a wonderful job, arranging Rose’s hair in a coil with a few judiciously curled pieces framing her face. She wove a gold ribbon through the knot and stepped back to survey her work.

“Do ladies wear such low-cut dresses?” Rose asked. “I feel as if one could see right down the front.”

“Oh, yes,” Sally replied with confidence. “I’ve seen
Goddard’s and Ladies Home Journal
. This is just what they’re wearing in Paris.”

“Paris?” Rose repeated, even more nervous at this.

But there was no more time for questions, for all three of them stopped what they were doing at the sound of a carriage drawing up outside the house.