“I’m not the match for him,” Gwendolyn argued. “Walter is a member of the New York Four Hundred, and there are unspoken rules he’s committed to following, such as marrying a lady of his social status. And while you may not be off the mark with your theory that what I really want is to take on a conventional role of wife and mother, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me a few weeks ago—that bit about knowing I want what my parents have—a deep and abiding love that will last for the rest of my days. You were right about that, which means Walter is not my match, because he doesn’t love me.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not, because while I’m sure Walter appreciates that his children adore me, he’s not like my father. He won’t set aside convention to marry a woman outside the Four Hundred. And even on the chance he would, if I’ve learned nothing else over this summer, I know I don’t belong in society. It’s too petty and there are too many intrigues. Plus, even though some ladies haveabandoned some of their underhanded antics, you know that won’t last. Securing an advantageous marriage in society is a high-stakes game, which means ladies will continue to backstab one another while settling smiles on all the gentlemen, acting quite as if they don’t have a backstabbing bone in their bodies.
“It’s simply not a world I want to inhabit, but Walter is a Knickerbocker. He won’t turn his back on society, nor do I believe he’ll cut back on the time he spends with his many business interests to be an attentive husband like my father is to my mother.”
“Walter cut back on his business to spend more of the summer in Newport,” Catriona pointed out.
“True, but that’s only because he realized it would be impossible for me to find him a match if he wasn’t in town more often.”
Catriona rose to her feet and moved to a window that faced the front of the house, opening it to let a light breeze swirl into the room. “But what if you’re wrong and Walter actually holds you in great esteem? Shouldn’t you at least afford him an audience before you leave Newport to hear if he has anything of worth to say to you?”
“I think I’ve suffered enough humiliation. As I said, we’ll stop by Sea Haven to say good-bye to the children before we leave, and if I encounter Walter, I’ll be civil but won’t engage in a lengthy conversation with him. We’ll then make a discreet exit from Newport because I have no desire to speak with any society members who might be out and about.”
Catriona moved aside the curtain, her gaze settling on something outside. “And isn’t that unfortunate, because there is an entire parade of carriages making their way up the drive. Given the splendid horses pulling those conveyances, I think society has decided to pay you a call.”
Gwendolyn strode to Catriona’s side, narrowing her eyes on well-equipped carriages pulled by prime horseflesh trundling up the gravel drive. The elaborate hats some of the ladies werewearing in open buggies obscured their identities, but clearly Catriona was right—the social set had come to call.
“You’ll have to tell them I’m not here,” Gwendolyn said, twitching the curtain back into place.
“Absolutely not. You’ve never been a coward, and I’m not about to let you start with that nonsense now.”
“So says the lady I once had to rescue from the top of a dresser after you spotted a rat in our Paris townhouse.”
“It was at least a foot long, and anyone other than you would have jumped on that dresser with me. That type of fortitude is exactly why we’re going to welcome these unexpected guests into this cottage and hear what they have to say.”
“We’re not giving them tea.”
“Fine. I prefer coffee,” Catriona said before she sailed out of the receiving room, telling her butler, Gibbons, to see if he could get the trunks stowed away before their unexpected guests arrived.
“Who cares about the trunks?” Gwendolyn asked, hurrying to catch up but stopping for just a second to peer in a hallway mirror, smoothing back a strand of hair that had escaped its pins.
Catriona spun on her heel and marched back to join Gwendolyn. “We will not give any of them the satisfaction of seeing how Mrs. Parker sent your trunks after you as if you were some hired hand she could treat with such disrespect. You’re a Brinley, as well as a Sullivan, my darling. Remember that.” She leaned closer to the mirror and pinched her cheeks. “We’ll receive everyone in the parlor, but only after I have Gibbons leave them lingering about in the receiving room for a good ten minutes or so.”
Catriona sent Gwendolyn a wink. “I picked up a few pointers when we were guests of the Prince of Wales. Making people wait always gives one the advantage, and considering we’re about to be inundated with people confident in their own superiority, we’re going to need all the advantages we can get.”
Thirty-Four
It soon became clear that Catriona was in the mood to annoy their unexpected guests, because she made them wait thirty minutes before having Gibbons usher them into the parlor.
Gwendolyn was hard-pressed to resist a laugh when Gibbons opened the parlor door, stepped aside, and one disgruntled person after another marched into the room.
First came Suzette Tilden, followed by Tillie Wickham, Russell Damrosch, Thurman Chandler, Cordelia Lowe, Frank Lambert, and a good dozen ladies Walter had escorted around town. Trailing behind them were Adelaide and her mother. Phyllis immediately bustled over to where Gwendolyn was sitting on a chaise and plopped down beside her, taking hold of her hand.
“I’m here for moral support,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. “As is Adelaide.”
“Too right I am,” Adelaide said, sitting down on the other side of Gwendolyn, which had Catriona scooting over, although there wasn’t much room to scoot since the chaise they were sitting on was built for two.
“How surprising to see all of you here,” Gwendolyn began, not bothering to rise to her feet, because she and Catrionahad agreed that to remain seated would give them another advantage during what was certainly going to be a contentious exchange.
“I’m sure you are taken aback to find yourself faced with us,” Suzette said, stepping to the front of the crowd. “But this isn’t a social call. We’re here for your notes.”
Gwendolyn arched a brow. “Notes?”
“Indeed. Mrs. Parker told us you amassed an entire notepad filled with tasty tidbits, apparently done while you were pretending to go about the business of finding Walter a match, as well as securing matches for the gentlemen present now.” Suzette gestured to Russell, Thurman, and even Frank—although she might not have intentionally gestured to Frank since she immediately turned her back on him when he sent her a smile.
“I don’t know how any notes I may have taken would benefit any of you,” Gwendolyn said.
