Later, with Emory back safely in his father’s care and Claire on her way home, Rose headed to Mr. Mullett’s famously ornate post office with her mother’s correspondence tucked into her cotton carry-all.
As she alighted from her carriage on Congress Street, therehewas, William Woodsom, coming across the square from the direction of Milk Street.
Rose felt a rush of something — excitement at seeing him perhaps, causing her heart to beat a speedy rat-a-tat in her chest — yet also, she couldn’t deny a tinge of sadness. If she felt anything for this man, did that mean she was finally over Finn?
Did that mean she had to let her husband go?
Her chest tightened with confusion. If Finn had taught her one thing, it was that she was worthy of a man’s undivided love. He’d said that she had captured his heart and soul with his first glance and her first words. She simply would not take an interest in a man who split his attention amongst more than one woman.
“Good day, Miss Malloy,” William said, as he approached.
“And to you, Mr. Woodsom,” she returned.
“I feared you had moved to the hinterland since I had not seen you in so many days.”
She raised an eyebrow at his slick banter. “Thehinterland? Is that German?”
“Yes, Miss Malloy, I believe so. A more gentile way of saying the backwoods, don’t you agree? In all seriousness,” he added, “where have you been hiding?”
“Hiding, indeed!” she scoffed. “I assure you that I have not been hiding, but merely going about my daily business. That we meet at all in a city this size is a wonder in itself.”
He smiled. “There’s a party in two nights at the Lowell’s. Will you be there?”
She was sure his abrupt question was meant to catch her off guard.
“I couldn’t say.” She feigned disinterest. “Why?”
He blurted out with laughter, and she felt her cheeks infuse with warmth at her own coyness.
“Because I want more than anything to finally dance with you.”
She blushed further, realizing that she would like to dance with him as well. But what about Maeve’s words of caution?
“Is that so?” she asked.
“It is. Perhaps we could even arrive in the same group,” he said.
She shook her head. She couldn’t possibly invite him into her circle when she knew that she would be going with Claire and Robert, and that Claire had invited Maeve along in order to make it utterly acceptable to invite Maeve’s cousin Franklin as well.
“Impossible,” Rose told him. “However, perhaps I shall see you there,” she added though she offered him no other encouragement, despite wanting to do so. That realization was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. She tamped it down. Finn was long dead, and she did not dishonor her memory of him by feeling a little happiness at the idea of dancing with another man.
