Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

…Perhaps...love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

—Lucy Maude Montgomery

E dward pulled Veronica aside the minute they reached the hall, cornering her against the wall beside an enormous mirror hanging above a marble-topped side table. The giggle that escaped her lips suggested she was as relieved as he to escape the stuffy drawing room.

He reveled in the joy of having her to himself, if only for a moment, placing his hands on each side of the wall on either side of her shoulders. "I must ask if you will let me have a kiss, Miss Lyndon. I've thought of little but you today at the office. I could hardly wait to see you."

"A kiss on the cheek. Edward, I would die if your parents found us here, and mind you, they are only around the corner," she whispered.

He brushed his lips against her cheek and then tugged her toward the staircase. He led her so quickly to the next floor that both of them were breathless by the time they arrived.

On the second story, he stopped her beside a potted fern. "One more kiss?" Under Aunt Mae's watchful eyes, he hadn't been able to kiss her, nor on the train journey with Frances constantly at her side. "We are only a few doors from my bedroom. Each time I pass this spot, I shall remember this moment before I close my eyes to pray for you."

She smirked and then batted her eyelashes at him. "Edward, I had no idea you would turn out to be such a romantic at heart, and I see your ankle has fully healed."

She smiled at him in a way that told him she enjoyed his attention. Good! Maybe she would soon begin to trust him with her heart too. He must continue to find little ways to help her open up to him.

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." And since she didn't turn her cheek toward him, she must be granting him permission to kiss her on the lips this time. His heart thundered in his chest. His breath hitched. Ever so slowly, he lowered his head—and she didn't withdraw. Those lash-studded chocolate eyes stared into his trustingly. Amazing!

Edward's eyes fluttered shut as his lips finally contacted hers, sweetly, gently. Pure, unadulterated happiness swept over him in a tingling current from head to toe. As much as he could've lingered, he quickly pulled back. He mustn't scare her away.

"Your kisses feel like heaven must feel."

His eyes opened to behold her lovely smile. "You're happy too?"

She nodded.

"Then I am certain we have taken a step in the right direction…toward being together forever." He took her by the hand again and led her up the next flight of steps to the third floor. Slower this time, lest she trip on that pretty gown.

"You pray for me?" she asked breathlessly as he directed her toward the final set of steps to the garret.

Edward stopped to let her catch her breath, turning to smile at her so she'd see the sincerity in his eyes. "Of course. Ever since you agreed to come to New York, I've been praying for you every night. And visions of you dance in my mind. I thank the Lord for bringing us together, even though it seems to have happened in a way neither of us expected."

"Oh, Edward. I think that's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me." She smiled, looking a little dazed, her cheeks reminding him of the sweet country roses blooming in the little garden behind her Kentucky home.

He squeezed her hand gently, lifting it to his lips to graze the back. "I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to a time when I can hold you and kiss you as much as we like, as often as we like, without looking over our shoulders or sneaking away. No worrying about chaperones or aunts."

Veronica smiled, though she cast her lashes down. "I'm beginning to look forward to it, too," she said, "and if I can find the right dress, I'll feel perfectly ready. My sisters can be my maids of honor, and Rupert could be your best man, and maybe your friend Jack could be a groomsman."

"Sounds perfect. I'll tell Jack next time I see him at the office."

Edward led her up the shorter flight of stairs to the garret, and when he opened the door, she flew from one picture to the next, examining each with exclamations of delight. He stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, awaiting her reactions.

"A lighthouse! Oh, look at this one of the seashore. And is this your family estate, Chesapeake Manor, overlooking another beach?" She held the canvas up to the light.

He nodded, smiling. "How did you guess?"

"I don't know. I must have imagined it from what you've told me. Oh, goodness, this horse painting! I love these, Edward. You are so talented. And this space…it's an artist's dream." As a budding artist herself, she would know. Veronica hastened to assess the view from each of the windows.

Edward's chest swelled. He rarely allowed anyone into his garret except family and staff. Jack had visited a time or two, but his family had little interest in his work and seldom entered his domain.

He had more paintings in the closet but not enough time to show them all to her. Yet her approval was evident in her smile and the way her eyes lit up as she held one of his portraits. That's what he cared about. If she approved of his work, it meant more to him than strangers purchasing a painting here and there.

"How do you choose which window to paint beside?" She returned the painting to its proper place, handling it with great care, and crossed to look out over the garden. "I would be so torn. One has the garden, the other the city street below, and so many rooftops to look over with the ocean in the distance. Such a view from up here!"

He shrugged. "I guess it depends on my mood."

"I really love this barn landscape. I would have trouble imagining the countryside from here. I don't know how you do it." Veronica, a radiant and approving expression on her face, held a vivid Flemish-style painting. Her head tilted to one side, a smile playing on her lips. "You must have an amazing imagination."

"Sometimes I find inspiration in picture books or museums, the city streets, past experiences. All sorts of ideas come to me." She came to his side, the admiration he'd longed for shining in her gaze, and he took her hand in his. "My darling Veronica Josephine, someday, after we are married, we will paint up here together."

Her lashes fluttered. "Oh…yes."

Had he detected a bit of hesitation in her answer? He wanted to explore that, but a glance at his pocket watch showed that they were out of time. He needed to return her to Aunt Mae. His mother would be glancing at her timepiece too. So he settled for a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering a few seconds as he attempted to memorize the feel of her creamy skin, before he led her back downstairs.

When had he fallen for the beautiful creature at his side? Maybe from the first time he'd seen her, so angry with him. But her determination and strength of spirit drew him to her. She was so unlike any other girls he'd met in New York. Not stuffy and superficial. Would he ever be able to truly win her love and trust, or would their marriage be without her whole heart? He needed to work hard to earn her trust, and then in time, love would surely come.

H ow this man stirred Veronica's heart. But how could she tell him she saw trouble ahead in dealing with his family members? Did he want a New York wedding like his mother wanted? And there he went again, assuming they would live in New York after they married. Would he be willing to consider splitting their time between New York and Kentucky?

Questions ran through her mind, but she kept them to herself, not wanting to take a chance on an argument during the sacred time of him sharing his studio. The place contained his hopes and dreams. She knew all too well the importance of the moment when revealing one's work to another soul. No, her questions would have to wait for another time.

T he next day after tea with Aunt Mae and Mrs. Cleave, at three minutes after four, Veronica stepped onto the front porch of the Cleave mansion. It had taken her several minutes to find her way to the door again since she had followed her aunt and Mrs. Cleave down a different staircase from the second-floor parlor of the grand mansion as the older ladies departed for their own drive in the park. She spotted the Beckett carriage with Edward's sisters at once. She had worried she might miss them, but their ostentatious hats drew her attention.

With a wave and a smile, Sophie began to open the carriage door, and Veronica stepped forward to board. But an automobile horn bellowed three long blasts from behind them. The Beckett driver snapped the reins in frustration and pulled away into the heavy traffic, leaving her standing there on the side of the road.

The automobile moved on, too, and she stepped back onto the sidewalk before she might find herself splayed flat on the road. The plumes in the Beckett sisters' hats waved as they drove away. From what Veronica could tell, the women did nothing to stop the driver. A long line of carriages, all heading in the direction of Central Park, she presumed, followed behind.

She let out an indignant puff of air. "Well, I never!"

How could she send word to Aunt Mae, who had surely left with Mrs. Cleave by now? What was she to do?

The next moment, a carriage pulled up in front of her with another pair of footmen and an elaborate crest that looked strikingly familiar. This time, a footman climbed down from the seat beside the driver without delay. Ignoring the traffic behind them, he promptly opened the door, calmly released the carriage steps, and held out a hand to assist her inside.

So taken by surprise at this turn of events was she, Veronica had yet to look at the faces of the passengers inviting her to climb aboard.

"Don't dawdle, Veronica," she heard Aunt Mae say.

A wide smile overtook her face. She accepted the footman's hand and settled into the carriage. "Aunt Mae, Mrs. Cleave, you've rescued me from disaster. Thank you!" Of course. She'd seen Mrs. Cleave's crest embroidered on a pillow inside her parlor.

"I thought something like this might happen," Aunt Mae remarked as the footman returned to his seat. "Don't say I didn't warn you about those two."

"It doesn't surprise me either." Mrs. Cleave snapped her fan open. "Your aunt and I thought we should make sure you were all right, just in case. I can see we made the right decision."

"I'm so glad you did. I'm not sure what happened. Their footmen seemed concerned about the heavy traffic, but one would think he'd be accustomed to it." The carriage merged into the long line of conveyances on the avenue, and Veronica sighed with relief. She would see the park after all, and without worrying about offending Edward's sisters. Smiling at her fellow passengers, she added, "I can't think of any finer company."

Except perhaps if Edward were to join them one day. The memory of his sweet kisses made her shiver with delight.

They soon feasted on the glorious sight of the park's green lawn. Romantic couples at leisure drifted in rowing boats on a lake shared with gliding swans. A cascading water fountain caught Veronica's attention. Friends strolled throughout the park, arm in arm as they basked in the afternoon sunshine. She exclaimed over elaborate arches and feats of architecture and admired rows of wrought iron gates bearing hanging baskets with flowers spilling over their edges.

She also learned a little more about Mrs. Evangeline Cleave. Apparently, Mr. Charles Cleave owned a number of hotels throughout the States, three of them in New York. Folks in Manhattan considered him one of the wealthiest gentlemen in America. He'd built the Cleave mansion for his wife, a Philadelphia socialite back in the day. Aunt Mae had attended finishing school with Evangeline in that fair city, and she remembered when Charles had begun his courtship with her friend at about the same time Aunt Mae had begun courting Uncle George. Like Aunt Mae, Mrs. Cleave had no children.

On their way home, Aunt Mae added more insight. "Here in New York, Charles quickly became friends with Cornelius Vanderbilt, J.P. Morgan, the Astors, and he's even done business with the Rockefellers. These families frequently stay at his hotels, and they look out for each other."

"Ah, I see." Veronica's eyes widened at this impressive list of names.

"In any case, suffice it to say, I wouldn't want to cross Evangeline or any of her friends. She's fiercely protective, and don't let her poodle fool you. Roosevelt is even more ferocious."

"I did think he was awfully cute, but does our vice president know her dog is named after him?"

"He does, and when Mrs. Cleave brought him along on a visit for tea, he and Alice laughed and thought it quite an honor. Evangeline's dog and our vice president remain good friends."

Veronica had a feeling Aunt Mae and Mrs. Cleave could put New York society at her feet if she wished for it. But what she wished for more and more every day…was a future with Edward. Would he soon secure that future with a proposal?

E dward waited for his father and brother to leave the dining room the next morning after breakfast. His sisters slept in later than usual, but this worked in his favor. Hopefully, his mother would linger at the table after his father left for the office with Rupert. Today was his day to work in his studio, or spend it with Veronica, but at the moment, he had something important on his mind. Something he hoped Veronica would very much like if all went according to plan.

"Have a nice day, dear." His father leaned down to drop a kiss on his mother's cheek. "Remember, tonight is the night I take the train after work to convince Jacob Hartman of why he should purchase one of our tenements. If he says yes, we'll make an enormous profit. Enough to consider investing in a larger tenement someday."

"Yes, of course, dear. If you're sure this is the right move…" Mother sighed. "You've never let us down before."

"I'm sure. I'll send a telegram before my return so you can make arrangements for someone to pick me up at the station."

"I'll be here fending off rumors. I don't know what I'm going to tell Henrietta and Sophie." Mother sulked, shaking her head, her hand trembling a little as it held the letter she'd received from her supposed friend.

"Don't let Agatha's letter bother you." Father wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "And you'll think of something to tell the girls."

Edward frowned. Had he seen sweat on his father's brow? How would Father have a way to purchase a new tenement, even if the sale went through, and even if it did provide a tidy sum?

"I'll do my best to manage while you're gone, but this is really getting out of hand." Mother stared at the letter in her hands. "We simply must find a way to put an end to these dreadful rumors."

"Come along, Rupert, or we'll be late. See you later, Edward." Father darted away from the dining room faster than Edward had seen him move in ages.

Rupert gulped down his coffee, set the cup aside, and reached for two more slices of bacon. He took a large bite of one of the strips and winked at Edward—indicating that he wouldn't let on that he knew anything about their troubles. "Paint something good. It's not my day off, sadly, but I'll see you at the office next time."

Edward nodded. "Thank you. Have a good day, Rupe."

His brother paused beside Mother's chair and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Have a wonderful day, Mother. Don't listen to Agatha. She was always a little too gossipy for my liking, anyhow."

His brother dashed through the arched door and out into the main hall while jamming the remaining bacon in his mouth, hurrying to catch up with Father.

Their mother had gone on and on all through breakfast, troubled about Agatha's letter bearing more rumors about the decline of their financial status and stating Agatha would no longer permit her daughters to associate with Edward's sisters. A friend no more. Did everything in New York revolve around social status? Didn't anyone offer friendship with real and lasting loyalty these days?

Yet another reason to ponder leaving New York behind someday. But with his father's expectations and the pressure of saving his family from financial disaster, the idea hardly seemed worth considering any time in the near future. Except…Veronica clearly wanted to spend a great deal of time in Kentucky, and the closer they got to a wedding, the more that troubled him.

Could he somehow split his time between New York and Velvet Brooks? That seemed like the only answer to his dilemma if Veronica ultimately said yes to marrying him. And now seemed like the perfect time to find out if she would say yes. Hence, his plan.

He swallowed more coffee and laid the newspaper aside. He hadn't managed to concentrate on it. He almost wished his sisters had joined them for breakfast so they might catch on to some of the troubles they faced.

When a servant cleared away his plate, he leaned forward. "Might I have a word, Mother?"

Mother looked over at him. "I'm not sure now is the time with all of this on my mind, but go ahead, Edward."

He cleared his throat, mindful of being cautious in what he said to his mother since Father had never admitted the truth behind the rumors to her or his sisters in an effort to spare them from worry. And Mother had only agreed to consider him marrying a bride from Kentucky because of the rumors. "Yes, well, I've heard about these rumors, too, and I don't like them anymore than you do. I think what we need is a wedding. If I ask Veronica to marry me, you can leak out the news of our engagement. And then people will be so excited about our pending nuptials, most of them will forget about this other gossip." He paused, giving her a chance to absorb what he'd said.

"Hmm, you may be right, Edward." His mother perked up a bit and set Agatha's letter aside. "People do love weddings."

Before she could interject any of her other thoughts, he plunged forward. "I remember you told me that when the time came for me to marry, you wanted me to present the tiara and the matching set to my prospective bride as an engagement ring and wedding jewelry. The one you said had been passed down through your family to the eldest child." There, he'd said all he needed to say.

His mother's mouth dropped open. "Why, Edward, you clever son. You remembered my request. And I think you are right. We must do everything we can to deflect these horrid rumors. An engagement announcement should squash these rumors entirely. You must ask her at once. I'll retrieve the jewelry." She pushed her chair back and rose. "I do hope you can convince Miss Lyndon of a New York wedding, but in any case, wait right here."

Edward relaxed in his chair as his mother made a beeline for the safe in the upstairs master bedroom. Hopefully, Veronica would like the set. At least his father hadn't sold it—at least not as far as he knew. His mother would never let his father sell precious family heirlooms without her consent.

He drummed his fingers softly on the white linen tablecloth, waiting for her to reappear with the jewelry. Maybe now he could also find a day at the office without his father around to have a closer look at the business records to see how bad things were. Perhaps he could even find a solution to their current problems if he had more of a clear picture of their financial situation.

Instead of telling him what he wanted to know, his father talked in circles. He avoided answering specific questions and told Edward he didn't need to know all of the particulars. Yet he expected Edward to simply hand over Veronica's dowry and commit to carrying on what could be a failing business. He deserved to know more, but as usual, his father had to control everything, even if it meant shrouding important details in secrecy.

When his mother returned with the square jewelry case, a smile on her face, he breathed a sigh of relief. She placed it on the table and opened it, revealing the sparkling gems. Today would not be the day for searching through his father's business records. No, today he would need to make a reservation at a fine dining establishment, cement his plans, find all of the right words, and prepare a proper proposal. He prayed Veronica would say yes, because at this point, his heart would never be the same again if she declined him.