Rendered dumb by her statement, Henry failed to voice a defense and was forced to watch as Mrs. Cartwright turned away and strode from the room, leaving him utterly alone with his thoughts. Never in his life had he met a woman with that much backbone or such ability to make him feel small and undeserving of her attention. It made him want to prove himself to her, to show her that he was nothing like the man she believed him to be but rather the sort who deserved her respect.
Returning home to the modest town house she inhabited on Gerrard Street, Viola shut the door and paused to listen. A loud thud was followed by a rapid drumming sound. She turned toward the stairs, waited expectantly and smiled broadly when a large, dark brown beast skidded across the top of the landing and proceeded to bound down the steps. His tongue flapped from the corner of his mouth as he flew toward her, barely managing to slide to a panting halt on the slippery marble floor.
Viola crouched down and scratched her Rottweiler lovingly behind his ear. “Good boy, Rex.” His tail wagged furiously from side to side as he nuzzled deeper into her hand, begging for more affection. She laughed, allowing him the pleasure while reaching into her skirt pocket and retrieving a small piece of meat.
Rising, she stood over him and commanded him to sit, rewarding him with the tasty morsel and another scratch of his head.
“Oh, Viola,” Diana, one of Viola’s two housemates, said as she entered the hallway from the stairs leading down to the kitchen. “I thought I heard you come in.”
Viola removed her gloves and placed them on a narrow table next to the wall. “I suppose it’s hard not to with Rex making such a commotion every time.”
“He’s a loyal dog and misses you tremendously when you’re not here,” Diana replied. Younger than Viola, she’d been sold by her uncle to a bawd and was one of the two runaways Viola had rescued after relocating from Tremaine House. The other was Harriet, who’d fled a brothel after taking a beating. Viola had offered both women shelter and food, and in return they carried out some of the chores Viola didn’t have time for. They also ran a support group every Monday at the hospital to help and advise other women in similar situations. All in all, it was an arrangement that had become increasingly permanent over time.
“Thank you,” Viola said. She gave Diana a pleading look. “I don’t suppose dinner’s ready?”
Diana smiled. “Of course it is. Harriet has made the tastiest pork pie and vegetable soup.”
“I still wonder at her culinary skills,” Viola said.
“We’re very lucky to have her.” Diana went to the door through which she’d recently come and called for Harriet to come upstairs and join them.
“How was work today?” Harriet asked Viola when they were all sitting at the dining room table eating their soup.
Viola took another spoonful of the tasty broth and savored the soothing warmth it provided as it slid down her throat. She glanced at her friends. “Mrs. Richardson was in a fine mood and Emily proved very helpful in cheering up an eight-year-old boy who was brought in with a fever. It looks like influenza, but I’m not too worried since he appears to be a strong and otherwise healthy child.”
Diana and Harriet responded with appropriate sounds of interest while Viola continued relating the highlights of her day. As an afterthought, she told them, “I also finished the invitations for the grand opening of the rejuvenation center so they can be sent out tomorrow.”
“How people have you invited?” Diana asked.
“One hundred.”
Harriet’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ll all show up?”
“I expect so, if for no other reason than curiosity.” They finished their soup. Viola helped Harriet and Diana remove their bowls and put clean plates on the table.
“And Mr. Lowell?” Diana asked while serving herself a piece of roast meat.
Viola felt her stomach contract. Of course she’d mentioned his arrival and had voiced her concerns about being responsible for his care because of the added interaction this would require. She had, however, hoped to avoid discussing him further. Especially since she feared she might like him more than what was wise.
“I quarreled with him this evening.” She took the dish with the roast from Diana and selected a piece of meat for herself before offering it to Harriet. When neither woman commented, she said, “He refused to heed my advice on bathing and later suggested that some might think me a loose woman when he discovered I’d once lived completely alone.” Grabbing the bowl with potatoes and carrots, she spooned several onto her plate while recalling Lowell’s horrified expression. His reaction had struck a sensitive nerve.
“You shared such personal detail with him?” Diana was staring at her with a quizzical expression while Harriet looked equally stumped. “How unlike you, Viola.”
“He said my husband was lucky to have me and when I told him I didn’t have a husband, one comment led to another until I eventually told him he had no right to judge me consideringhisreputation.”
Harriet smiled. “Bravo, Viola.”
“Indeed,” Diana murmured. “But in spite of the set-down you gave him, I must urge you to be careful where Mr. Lowell is concerned. Men like him do not bring up a woman’s husband unless they hope to discover whether or not she has one.”
Viola nodded. “I am aware but I also despise lying, so when he told me my husband was fortunate to have me, I could not allow myself to deceive him.”
Harriet leaned forward and peered at Viola. “You like him.”
“I most certainly do not.” To suppose such a thing was silly in light of what she knew about him.
“Your cheeks are turning pink,” Diana remarked. “For someone who claims to despise lying, you really ought to make more of an effort at being honest with us and with yourself.”
Frowning, Viola stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. “Very well. I will admit that I find him charming and that I enjoy sparring with him. I mean, you know how well I enjoy a good challenge and—”
