Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.

— Matthew 7:15, ESV

A bout a week after the ball, as they sat in Aunt Mae's drawing room, Veronica cautiously and optimistically approached the subject of a Kentucky wedding with Edward. While he'd taken her on a couple of outings with her aunt, this was the first she'd been able to spend time alone with him. Since Edward had been working long days at the office to cover for his father, who was out of town to meet with another buyer for some real estate, she had taken the opportunity to finish her shopping with Aunt Mae. Her aunt spoiled her far too much. Her sisters would simply drool over all of her new things, but their turn would come.

"It would mean so much to me, Edward. You do remember how I told you Grandfather Spencer preached there for so many years, don't you?" She set down her teacup. "And all four of my grandparents would be able to witness the exchange of our vows. My mother can organize the reception. It will be far less grand than a New York society wedding, but so sweet, surrounded by all of our closest friends and family…" Having presented her plea, she reached for the teapot to refill Edward's cup.

"I'm all for it, darling."

"Truly?" As joy darted through her, she turned to search his eyes.

"Truly. A small church wedding in Lexington sounds much less stressful than a New York society wedding. I only need time to figure out a way to break the news to Mother." Edward held his teacup out to receive his refill.

How smoothly that had gone! It gave her courage for her next question.

"Before we speak of when this wedding will take place, I must know, where shall we live once we are wed, Edward? I miss horses. As exciting as Manhattan is with balls and the theater, Central Park, grand museums, and bookstores, I'm wilting, Edward. I need the countryside. I miss Velvet Brooks and my family." She was missing out on so much. Delia had written to tell her of her growing romance with Thaddeus Sullivan, and she'd included an update about Gladdie's blossoming relationship with Clay Grinstead.

"I know you do." Edward sipped some of his tea and leaned forward. "I've been thinking about this too. Would you consider a compromise of splitting our time between the two states? Six months here, six months there? I'd have to work more days at the office when we are here, but it's the only thing I can think of that might appeal to my father. And I do have a connection to a friend who has a riding trail for horses in New York. We might be able to make excursions there on weekends."

The man was willing to give up more of his precious time with his artwork in order to make their marriage work. Veronica's heart soared. Maybe once they married, when they were in New York, she could find ways to encourage his art in the evenings and on weekends.

"I, too, have been thinking a compromise of this sort might be our only option. Would we perhaps be able to find a house with a garden, maybe something not too far from your office?"

"Of course." His brow furrowed. He set his tea aside and then raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how I'll break the news to my father, but I'll try to convince him this is the best and only way forward for us. Let's keep this matter to ourselves for now, until I can find the right time to talk to him and the right approach."

"I understand. Your father has certain expectations." She patted his leg, though she pushed aside a twinge of unease.

She had faith in Edward, but what might happen if his parents put their foot down? Would Edward stand his ground? Would his parents threaten to cut him out of the family business or do away with his share of the profits or the family fortune in order to get whatever they wanted from him?

S ince Edward indicated he would be buried in work for a few days, Aunt Mae took advantage of the time to help Veronica finish her wedding shopping. Half of the trousseau would come to her aunt's home in New York, and had indeed already begun to arrive, ensuring Veronica looked smart at every type of event she attended. The trousseau included two shirtwaist dresses, walking suits, reception frocks, a tea dress, a visiting dress, two new bell-shaped skirts and lace-collared blouses, two evening gowns, one black mourning dress—just in case one might have to attend a funeral, Aunt Mae had said—and one more ball gown.

The seamstress, Nell, would ship the dress and veil to Lexington along with the portion of her trousseau that wouldn't be ready when they departed with the Becketts for Chesapeake Manor. While Nell's team of seamstresses worked hard to fill the order, Veronica sent a letter to her mother, advising her to remain vigilant for the shipment.

It made Veronica a bit nervous. What if Edward failed to convince his parents of their wishes? What if she had to comply with her future mother-in-law's hopes for a New York society wedding? Even her mother, who had many friends in New York, had written to say she preferred a simpler Kentucky wedding with their Lexington friends. What if his father refused to let him live half of each year at Velvet Brooks?

Meanwhile, they had the Cleaves ball to look forward to. After all of their wedding shopping, Aunt Mae had earned an afternoon luncheon at the Waldorf with Mrs. Cleave, and Veronica reveled in the opportunity to relax in her aunt's drawing room with a book.

Mrs. Cleave had brought a furry little visitor to sit with Veronica, however. "I simply don't know what's wrong with him, Veronica," Mrs. Cleave had said as she handed the sweet little pup over. "He just doesn't seem like himself. Perhaps an afternoon adventure with you would do wonders for him."

Veronica had smiled as she snuggled the pet. "I'm sure we'll have a perfectly ordinary time reading my book together, but he can sit here on my lap until you return. No need to hurry. I don't plan on going out."

Veronica patted Roosevelt, and he curled up in her lap. Then she opened a copy of Jane Eyre to read to her heart's content. Alone at last…

Not half an hour later, Frances interrupted Veronica's pleasant afternoon to announce the arrival of Henrietta and Sophie. Veronica sighed, in no mood to deal with Edward's sisters, but they'd practically followed Frances into her aunt's drawing room instead of waiting in the hall. After the way they had behaved at the ball, Veronica had wrestled greatly to achieve forgiveness during her earnest bedtime prayers. But now, her aunt's absence left her to face them alone.

Frances brought a tea tray in since the cook had gone to pick up some items at the market. Edward's sisters gushed about the cute little dog in her lap. When Sophie attempted to come near to pet Roosevelt, he growled, and she retreated to the sofa.

Henrietta prattled on while Veronica eyed the tea tray, reluctant to make the customary offering. "We are dreadfully sorry about filling up your dance card, and especially for bargaining with it for dance partners for ourselves. It was a dreadful thing to do. I don't know what came over us. I guess in retrospect, we partly thought you might appreciate meeting more of the fine bachelors Manhattan has to offer. Poor Edward tends to hide from society, and we thought it would help if you didn't have to sit out so many dances. We hope you can forgive us for such ill-mannered and thoughtless behavior."

"Yes, we are terribly sorry," Sophie echoed. "It was reckless, indeed. Edward has made us see the error of our ways."

She knew he had also bade them offer an apology, though his sisters' version came off as backhanded. What had their mother thought of their behavior? Or had she even been apprised of it?

Veronica bit her lip, choosing her words with care, not trusting his sisters nor believing them repentant. While Edward had mentioned he had hidden from the ladies his mother had tried to entice him to consider as prospects for marriage, he hadn't shown this side at all to her. "In fact, he seemed eager to dance with me all evening."

Henrietta tittered quietly. "Being eager doesn't mean he is skillful."

Veronica sat up straighter. "On the contrary…Edward knew all the steps. He was a perfect gentleman, and I thought he led me magnificently on the dance floor. I can't imagine why you would think I would wish to draw the attention of other dance partners when I am perfectly happy and in love with Edward."

"Of course. Clearly, you are." Henrietta exchanged a muted glance with Sophie.

Veronica sipped some of her tea and patted Roosevelt, unsettled by the girls' reaction. For Edward's sake, she took note of their somber looks and added, "Your apology is accepted, although I must say your scheme placed your brother and me in a predicament. I wanted to save most of my card for him to fill in the dances he wanted. Since he is my fiancé, I had hoped to give him the benefit of penciling his name in before anyone else. Unfortunately, because of your actions, I couldn't give your brother that courtesy, and as you know, he had to resort to unusual methods to dance with me."

"I thought it ended up being quite romantic, the way he cut in on every dance to be with you." Sophie's blue eyes widened as she tucked some of her blond curls in place. "Everyone noticed his efforts. But you shouldn't feel bad about not saving dances for Edward. I sincerely doubt he would do the same for you."

Veronica held the teapot out, ready to pour, but this remark struck her as odd, and she set it down. "What makes you say such a thing about your brother?" Where could Sophie's statement lead? She implied Edward did not value Veronica to the degree she valued him.

"Oh dear, another blunder on my part. It's probably something we shouldn't mention in polite society." Sophie shook her head and covered her mouth, looking away.

"No, I wouldn't tell her, Sophie." Henrietta shot her sister a stern glance. "It will only upset her."

Veronica looked from Henrietta to Sophie and back again. "What would upset me?"

"I shouldn't have brought it up." Sophie sighed, waving her hand as if she could take back her remarks.

"Since you did, why bother to keep it a secret? But if you don't wish to tell me, I think we should conclude your visit." Veronica's heart hammered as she patted Roosevelt…as though that would calm her.

"You had best tell her. Seeing as how you've gone and upset her, Sophie." Henrietta's tone conveyed aggravation.

The little dog in Veronica's lap growled again. Veronica kept her hand around him in case he decided to dive at their company.

Sophie looked up at the ceiling and then at her hem, where the tips of her white summer ankle boots peeked out from under her fashionable skirts. Finally, she directed her gaze toward Veronica. "All right, I'll tell, but you mustn't breathe a word."

"Go on." She would not offer tea, after all. She could only imagine what would come next, but she had a feeling she would regret the visit. Little Roosevelt's tiny growls increased in volume and frequency, but she could hardly blame his instincts.

"I'm afraid you may not want to marry Edward after what I share…" Sophie pulled at the gloves on each of her fingers as she spoke, loosening them as if she now planned to stay for a while. "And I certainly wouldn't blame you for abandoning him once you know, but if I were in your shoes, I would want someone to tell me. As his future bride and our future sister-in-law, you have every right to know. If it were me, I would cast him aside …"

"I thought we had already established the fact you would tell me, and if it concerns my fiancé, your brother, our dearest Edward, I believe you should indeed tell me." Veronica braced herself, her hands wrapping around the arms of her chair.

"Well, you may recall meeting Edward's friends at the ball. You met Dora and her sister, Emma, the Wheatland sisters," Sophie reminded her.

"Yes, I did. Very nice girls." Veronica gave a curt nod. What did his friends have to do with Sophie's news?

"And you met Edward's closest friend, Jack Curzon. And you met the Galloways, Stephen and his sister Jane, the girl who wore the powder-blue ball gown with the rosettes on her neckline. But the last girl you met in Edward's set, the debutante in the white gown, Mirabel Salisbury? Well, I suspect he introduced her last because she means the most to him."

"Wh-what do you mean, she means the most to him?" Veronica's voice wavered.

Henrietta huffed, casting her sister an impatient glance. "What Sophie means to say is, Mirabel Salisbury, the daughter of James and Wallace Salisbury, our dear South Carolina neighbors and mother's good friends at Chesapeake Manor, is Edward's…mistress."

The walls seemed to close in on Veronica, squeezing the life out of her. "Ed-Edward…has a m-mistress?"

Henrietta pressed her lips together. "Perhaps I should say, she will become his mistress once the two of you are married, since I am absolutely certain he will never give her up. Her family has a townhouse here in Manhattan, so she and Edward will never lack the means to be apart, not to mention, he is solidly smitten with her."

"I cannot believe it." Veronica held her hand to her heart, which seemed determined to hammer right out of her chest.

This did not sound like the Edward she knew, but how well did she know him? Could he have hidden his true love, his true nature, from her? And after having spent so much time with him in recent weeks, during which he'd seemed so genuine and honest, Veronica could hardly fathom it.

As for Mirabel, she seemed like a sweet young lady, but Veronica had only met her briefly. The girl had danced a good bit—more than once with Rupert.

Henrietta fluttered her lashes. "I'm afraid it's true, but please don't let it bother you too deeply. It's nothing personal, I'm sure. It's common among men, especially among the elite of New York society, unfortunately. It's best to accept it and get over it early on."

"And better you find out now than after you are married," Sophie offered in a low, steady voice.

Veronica looked from one to the other and shook her head. "I don't believe you. It cannot possibly be true. Why doesn't Edward ask Mirabel to marry him if there is any shred of truth to what you say?"

"Edward secretly wanted to ask her to marry him, but she would have had to refuse him for another arrangement her parents have in mind," Henrietta explained with a tilt of her chin and a triumphant gleam in her eye. "A gentleman from England with a title and a great deal of money, much more money than either of our families have, or so we have heard. Although she would marry Edward in a heartbeat if she could…"

Sophie nodded emphatically.

Could any truth exist in what Sophie and Henrietta shared? Veronica couldn't seem to catch her breath.

"Believe whatever you like, but don't say we didn't warn you," Sophie added nonchalantly with an indignant tone as she crossed her legs and swayed one of her pretty boots. "Are you going to offer tea? If not, I suppose we should be going. I wanted to surprise Father when he returns from his business trip by bringing fresh flowers to spruce up his office. Shall we tell Edward you said hello if we see him? He has been working so hard, I haven't even seen him for dinner lately."

"No, we haven't," Henrietta said as though just realizing it. "Perhaps he has been having dinner with you, Veronica." She toyed with a glove in her lap.

Henrietta's remark stung. Indeed, Veronica hadn't seen Edward for the past few evenings. He'd indicated he would be working late to cover for his father's absence, but was it possible he had been with Mirabel? Had Edward lied to her?

"N-no. I'm not in the mood for tea anymore. I think we are done for today." Her throat felt as though it might close up. Veronica reached for the little gold bell her aunt used to summon the help and rang it. What if some shred of truth existed in what his sisters shared? Would Edward turn out to be like Henry, after all? Had she made a terrible mistake in coming to New York?

Frances appeared in seconds with a concerned look on her face as Henrietta and Sophia began to gather their belongings while casting pitying glances in Veronica's direction. Had Frances waited nearby, close enough to have overheard the disturbing news?

"Frances, if you would escort Edward's sisters to the door, they won't be able to stay for tea." Veronica rose, her voice as firm as she could maintain it, tucking Roosevelt under one arm as she smoothed her skirts. Ready to burst, she did her best to hold her head high, blinking back tears. She could not let them witness the loss of her composure.