“Honestly, I don’t know this Phineas Bennet. If I were meeting him for the first time today, I probably would have thought he couldn’t hold a candle to my William. Indeed, he’s still cuts a strapping figure and is fetching, but I can’t say that I would have given him a second glance.”
Claire looked shocked, and Rose felt a pang of remorse. After all, her friend had sat through the countless hours of Rose gushing about Finn after meeting him that first fateful day at the waterfront. Claire had also supported her when she’d decided she simply had to marry him. Most of all, she’d consoled Rose for more hours than she could recall after Finn was lost to her at sea.
It seemed disloyal to Claire after all of that to admit that she was giving up on the relationship.
“You admire William, too, don’t you?” Rose asked, feeling suddenly unsure that she had any ability to choose a man at all.
“Of course,” Claire said. She cocked her head. “You’ve never asked my opinion on a man before. Do you know that? You’ve always known whom you liked and whom you wanted. Don’t let this change you.”
This?This was huge. This was marriage ... and divorce.
“Do you think I shouldn’t tell William? I mean, if Finn and I get a divorce, does anyone need to know that we were ever married?”
Claire looked thoughtful. “I think in your heart of hearts, dear, you would feel badly not telling William, wouldn’t you?”
Rose considered. It would be a strange secret to keep from one’s husband.
“You haven’t done anything wrong or anything to be ashamed of. I don’t believe he’ll think any less of you if he knows the whole story.”
Claire was undoubtedly correct. There was nothing terrible about the secret, except keeping it would be a blight on their relationship.
“You’re right, of course. I was an impetuous young woman, practically a child still. I’ll tell William today.” She sipped her tea, then looked at Claire’s sweet face. “Or should I wait until I obtain the divorce?”
“Perhaps you should speak with your brother first,” Claire advised. When Rose rolled her eyes, Claire added, “He loves you very much, you know. He will try only to help you.”
Yes, Reed loved her but often with the results of a swaddling cloth. At least she could consult with him quickly — it was handy having a top legal mind in the family — and then speak with William with some idea of what was facing her.
When she told her mother she was going to visit Reed that very afternoon, she narrowed her eyes.
“Whatever for?”
Rose chastised herself. She used to be so quick to come up with ways to have whatever amusement she wanted. Now she felt positively slow-witted.
“Mama, I have a question regarding my upcoming marriage, of course.”
Her mother hugged her. “I thought you might ask him to give you away. I’m very glad of it.”
Give her away! Of course, the perfect reason for seeing her brother. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“I’ll be back for dinner, of course.”
She forsook her carriage to walk to Scollay Square; it would be faster than dealing with the chockablock of horses, carriages, and trams that clogged the streets of Boston from morning until night. The only time she could bear to pass through the city was very early morning, at dinnertime when everyone was dining or attending the theatre, or on Sundays.
A smile lit Reed’s face upon seeing her. His partner, John, had brought her upstairs to her brother’s office and then left them alone. Reed rounded his polished mahogany desk and swept her into an encompassing hug. Rose relaxed within the safety of his arms, breathing in his familiar sandalwood scent with a feeling of calm, and wondered why she hadn’t simply told him three years ago.
“What trouble brings you to my office?” he asked, his chin resting against her head.
Oh, yes, that was why she hadn’t told him. Her reputation for causing mischief, and especially for worrying her mother, seemed to hang around her like a well-worn cloak. Even if she’d been the epitome of resolute decorum and somber propriety since Finn’s death.
She pushed against him until he released her.
Unfortunately, she really was in trouble this time, and not the small kind of sneaking out to see a bawdy show on the Common or go with Claire to a pub in a seedier section of the city. No, this was serious and sad, and it would hurt people she would give anything not to hurt.
Her face gave it all away, no doubt, for Reed furrowed his brow and lost his teasing manner.
“What is it, dear one?”
He pulled her toward one of the chairs and sat in the one next to it, not putting his desk between them, which she greatly appreciated.
