Chapter 17

Seventeen

Rose

I climbed off the streetcar and stepped onto the walk. The air was frigid today, a cold that matched the ice in my heart.

Moore's engagement party was tomorrow.

The betrothal notice had appeared in the paper earlier this week, a whole half page in the New York World . The story only garnered a mere two paragraphs in The New York Times , but the World had included illustrations of the happy couple. I hadn't been able to keep from obsessing over it, reading every word twice and studying the drawings. The writer didn't mention Moore's former marriage, which no doubt had been a demand from the powerful Emerson family. It wouldn't do to bring up past unpleasantness and soil the happy occasion.

Miss Whitney-Dunn was perfectly pretty and descended from a venerable Knickerbocker family. She was everything Moore required in a bride, and I hadn't allowed myself to cry. A woman such as me, temporary and fleeting, a lowly actress, was a diversion for a man like Moore. His legacy required a woman of substance and breeding, and Gladys certainly fit that mold.

I tried to be happy for him.

He was extra attentive the night after the notice was published, and I wasn't certain if the reassurance was for me or him. We didn't speak of it, but he had to know I had seen the newspapers. And if I clung to him a bit tighter as we slept, he hadn't seemed to mind.

Why had I allowed myself to fall in love with him? The age-old question. I wasn't the first woman to ask it, and I certainly wouldn't be the last.

I hurried to Mr. Martin's office. He'd sent word this morning that he had news. Which was good, because I had news for him.

The streets were mostly empty, with New Yorkers preferring to stay someplace warm on such a cold day. I couldn't blame them. I was very much looking forward to returning to the town house and sitting in front of the fire.

After I announced myself to the secretary, I sat to wait in the anteroom. Mr. Martin came out a few moments later, his expression full of excitement when he spotted me. "Rose! Come in, come in. Thank you for coming uptown to see me."

Downtown, I considered correcting. But then I would need to explain where I was living and why, hardly a conversation I wished to have with my former director.

"Of course," I said as I lowered myself into a chair. "It's nice to see you again."

"And you." He studied me. "Though I must say, you're looking tired. Is anything amiss?"

Never words a woman liked to hear. "I'm perfectly well. A late night, is all."

"Well," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You had best get all the sleep you can before September. Guess who has been chosen as the lead in The Bathing Girl ?"

I couldn't prevent a burst of happiness from blooming in my chest. I got the part! Me, not Sarah Bernhardt. If I'd ever doubted my abilities, this was validation of my talent. I could find work as a lead actress, damn it.

Drawing in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. "Thank you very much, Mr. Martin. I'm afraid I must decline, however."

His face fell dramatically. "I beg your pardon. Decline?"

"I'm grateful for the opportunity, but I cannot accept it."

"Why the devil not? This could be the role of a lifetime, Rose. Think about what you are saying."

Oh, I had thought about it. A lot.

And I couldn't stay in New York. It held too many memories, too much temptation. Thankfully, the deed to the town house meant I had the means to go anywhere . As soon as I sold the property, I could travel to Paris and perform there. Or London. Rome. A place where they didn't know the Emersons and I wouldn't need to hear of Moore's wedding.

I'd moved cities before, so I knew how to find work and lodgings. Make friends and build a life. It wouldn't be difficult—once my heart mended, of course.

There wasn't a choice. Under no circumstance could I stay in New York and watch Moore and Gladys's family grow. And did I honestly think I could resist an overture from Moore after he married? I was strong, but my love for him weakened me. If he approached me and pressed, would my principles outlast my longing for him?

I didn't wish to find out.

I gave Mr. Martin my best imitation of a smile. "I know it sounds strange, but I plan to move abroad. Europe, maybe."

He stroked his chin, his gaze thoughtful. "I can think of only a few reasons why a rising theatrical celebrity like yourself would travel abroad instead of taking this role. Are you . . .?" He gestured to my middle.

My eyes rounded. "No, I'm not. It isn't that."

"So it must be a man. Allow me to guess? He's convincing you to follow him overseas. Put your dreams on hold to cater to his traveling whims."

That hit a little too close to the truth and the backs of my eyelids began to sting. I could feel the tears gathering, a lump settling in my throat. "No, that isn't the case. I'm doing this alone."

When a tear slipped free and worked its way down my cheek, Mr. Martin paled and quickly handed me his handkerchief. "Oh, Rose. Forgive me. It's none of my business why you're leaving."

I dabbed at my face. "Your shock is understandable. I'm a little surprised myself, to be honest. And you'll never know how sorry I am to turn down this role."

"Then don't do it. We won't start rehearsals until April. Go and travel all you like, then return refreshed and ready to work."

He didn't understand. It wasn't my present circumstances that worried me. It was what happened in September and beyond that I couldn't handle. "I'm afraid leaving now won't help. I'm sorry, but I can't give you additional details."

Shaking his head, he stood and thrust his hands in his pockets. "You'll be hard to replace, Rose. The producers thought you were just the perfect girl for the role."

"I'm honored to be considered, truly. And I'm certain it'll be a smash."

He cocked his head and considered me. Then he said, "I'll sit on this for a week. In case you change your mind."

I didn't argue, though I knew I wouldn't change my mind. "Thank you, Mr. Martin. For all you've done for me."

We said our goodbyes and I left, my stomach heavy. Yet I knew this was the right decision. The future had a lot in store for Rose O'Donahue . . . just not here in New York.