“Don’t you dare,” Reed had said, and she could see by the look on her brother’s face that he was absolutely serious.
No bother. She had no wish to go on the stage anyway. To be thrust into the limelight might have worked for the old Rose. This Rose wanted none of that.
“I’m only jesting, dear brother. There is all that memorizing to do,” she added, trying to sound blithe. “And I daresay the heavy makeup is terrible for one’s skin.”
“There’s Franklin,” Claire whispered behind her hand, bringing Rose’s thoughts back to the present.
Rose’s best friend had become even closer since the loss of Finn. As the only one who had known about their brief marriage, Claire was the sole person in whom Rose could confide and on whose shoulder she could sob out her broken heart. And Claire had performed admirably, shoring Rose up as needed, trying to lift her spirits, and as time went on, dragging her back into the social scene.
Moreover, after Rose’s marriage to Finn, Claire no longer tried to push her into the arms of the other Appleton sibling, Claire’s twin brother, Robert, with whom Rose felt only familial affection. For Rose’s taste in the opposite sex obviously ran to a more adventurous sort, a rugged man.
Certainly not a hobbadehoy like Robert Appleton. At last, Claire had informed Rose she’d relinquished her dream of having her for a sister by law as well as by heart, as she understood her twin would never suit.
Yes, Claire was an absolute peach. Rose squeezed her friend’s hand ever so slightly. It was definitely her turn to help her friend. Claire had been sweet on Franklin Brewster for the past three weeks and had yet to speak to him or to dance with him.
Rose sighed.
If she’d been interested in him, she would have marched right up to him already and batted her eyelashes and shaken her follow-me-boys curls, demanding he notice her. She would have made her intentions plain or simply asked him to write his name on her dance card. Not that Rose had felt like doing anything of the sort since Finn had come into her life and then all-too-soon left it.
Watching the young couples, she regretted that she’d never been to a dance with him. Yet they had found plenty of ways to have fun together. She’d drawn him out, refusing to dwell on his serious musings, and she’d enjoyed coaxing out his soft smile and his puckish laughter. She still missed both of those traits and found that her own had disappeared with his.
Even if she didn’t feel like laughing, she always felt like helping her dear friend. Although hardly the retiring type, Claire was far too hesitant when it came to the male of their species. Rose made a decision.
“Wait here,” she said to Claire, who immediately tried to grab for Rose’s arm and make her stop.
Rose looked into her friend’s widening green eyes and said, “Do not worry.”
“Impetuous trouble,” Claire murmured, reminding Rose of what old Mrs. Barnes had said when she’d seen the two girls entering the party.
Too late, Rose thought, already four steps toward Franklin Brewster, who stood with three other youthful Brahmin. His late father, whom he greatly resembled — both being tall and handsome — was a developer, not only in Boston but also in New York City. Mr. Brewster was a leader in the filling of the Back Bay project with over 700 acres filled and converted into buildable land. Franklin was indeed an eligible bachelor worthy of Claire.
The young well-to-do’s were talking and laughing, all the while scanning the room surveying the female company.
Rose walked right into the middle of them, silencing their laughter. They stared at her and she looked back at each in turn, not the least bit uncomfortable. Finally, John Claymore, whom out of sheer boredom she’d allowed to briefly flirt with her the previous summer, found his voice.
“Well, Miss Malloy,” and he offered her a saucy look as if she’d come over there to speak with him. “Is there somethingIcan help you with? Perhaps a slot on your card.”
She glanced down at the dance card dangling from her wrist. Always empty and by her own choice.
“Not the likes of you,” she retorted, watching two spots of color bloom on his cheeks.
Oh, he was handsome enough, but she’d found him soft in certain unappealing ways. His hands were delicate, his laugh was too quiet, and he kissed like her grandmother. In other words, he was absolutely nothing at all like Phineas Bennet. For as expected, her husband had become the impossible touchstone against whom she measured every other man.
Also as expected, she found every single one of them to come up short.
As for John Claymore, she’d cursed herself for even bothering to try to recapture a little happiness. John’s failure to come close to Finn’s appeal only made her sadder and lonelier.
“I’m here to speak with Mr. Brewster,” Rose said, turning her vivid blue Malloy gaze to ward Claire’s heart’s desire. The others exclaimed aloud.
“Now you’re for it,” said Thomas Craigston, whom Rose had never fancied though he had a good sense of humor.
They all chuckled at his friendly warning.
“Are you attached?” she asked Franklin, ignoring the others.
Franklin looked taken aback.
“I ... That is ... Are you ...? No ... why?”
