Maeve shrugged. “She cares only about saving Franklin. She has vowed to tell him of Claire’s ‘sordid past’ if he indicates he will offer for her.”
Rose felt the blood drain from her face. The only thing that had saved Claire so far was that Franklin was a most unhurried man, dragging his feet for so long. However, today, with their showing up uninvited and with Franklin standing in the middle of the room, looking only at Claire ...
Good God!Franklin was speaking with his mother at that moment.
Rose picked up her skirts and hurried back into the house, hearing loud voices as soon as she entered. In the hallway, right outside the closed doors to the party, Claire stood, a stricken look upon her lovely face. Franklin appeared no better.
Rose was too late. They had exchanged words.
“There is nothing more to say,” Franklin said, his tone uncharacteristically severe.
“In that, sir, you are correct.” In turn, Claire’s voice was loud, which it never was. She barely glanced at Rose as she turned away.
“Come along,” she said firmly, “we are leaving.”
Rose stayed rooted to the spot. This could not be happening.
At that moment, Lucy appeared from the kitchens, eyes averted as she moved past the unpleasant scene to open the front door.
Claire walked toward it. When framed by the doorway, she turned, looking back at Rose and then at Franklin. She was magnificent, Rose thought, standing tall, head up, eyes flashing.
“I hope never to set foot in this house again,” Claire said, her voice sounding like ice and steel. “Nor speak toanyof its inhabitants. Come along, Rose.”
Rose opened her mouth to protest, but this Valkyrie was not to be disobeyed. Still, she gave Franklin one last beseeching glance. Surely, he wasn’t going to let Claire simply walk out of his life.
However, the usually affable man looked anything but. His mouth was set in anger, his chin thrust forward, and his face clouded in a myriad of emotions — no doubt shock and sadness among them.
This was all Rose’s fault, yet there was nothing she could do at that moment in the hallway of the Brewster mansion. It was too awful. She followed Claire out onto the front step, hearing Lucy close the door behind them. Every young lady at the gathering must have overheard the terrible altercation in the hall. The civilized tea had become scandal-water of the worst kind and would be all over Boston by nightfall —Claire Appleton had been set aside by Franklin Brewster on the grounds of impropriety.
Tomorrow would be even worse.
No family in Boston would welcome her and, certainly, no young gentleman would take her for a wife.
Claire would have to leave the city.
It should be Rose who was driven out like the indecent woman she was.
As soon as they got a few yards away from the Brewster’s front door, Claire began to cry in earnest. Silent tears streamed down her face. She didn’t try to stop them or wipe them or hide her face behind her gloved hands. She simply cried and walked, and kept on crying and walking, right past Rose’s carriage, right on toward her home.
Rose hurried along beside her, feeling at an utter loss, not knowing what to do — an unfamiliar and decidedly wretched sensation of helplessness.
After one agonizing sob rent the silence, Claire stopped. She stopped walking, she stopped her tears. Then she turned to Rose.
“I have wasted my time on that man.”
Rose had not expected that statement. She had expected her dear friend to lash out at her for ruining her life.
“What did he say?” Rose’s own voice sounded choked.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again.
“When he reentered the parlor, he beckoned me to follow him. I saw at once that something was wrong. As soon as we got into the hall, he closed the doors behind us and turned on me like a jackal. He said he had been fooled by my gentile demeanor and lovely face.”
Rose swallowed. Franklin must have said a lot more than that, but Claire merely took her arm and continued walking in silence for a little while. Rose gave her time to gather her thoughts and waited for her to continue when she was ready.
At last, Claire said in a much softer tone, “Naturally, I was stunned and I told him so. He asked whom I was meeting secretly four years ago.” She paused. “Can you believe the gall? I said, ‘Four years ago? Why, no one.’ ‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ he said, and he sneered at me.”
She shook her head in wonderment. “Franklin actually sneered and said his mother told him about my illicit undertakings. I asked him quite seriously, ‘Are you mad? Have you lost your senses?’ Then he said, and I promise you, these were his exact words, ‘I thought you might do me the courtesy of disclosing who it was who beat me to your virtue.’”
