Chapter 18

Eighteen

Moore

I tugged on my collar. The receiving line at the betrothal ball stretched down the stairs and through the entry hall, an endless stream of guests to congratulate the happy couple.

Never mind that neither the bride nor the bridegroom appeared very happy. In fact, I'd say we both looked downright miserable. The only people wearing smiles tonight were my mother and Gladys's father.

"Welcome to the family, son," Whitney-Dunn had said earlier, even though he wasn't old enough to be my father. I'd barely restrained myself from punching him.

As for my mother, I was glad to see her in such good spirits. Ever since I informed her of my decision to marry, my mother had been cheerful, showing a renewed vigor for anything wedding-related. To prevent my mother from overtaxing herself, I asked our housekeeper to hire an army of additional servants to deal with tonight's ball. With Louis Sherry overseeing the food, my mother hadn't worried over a single detail.

"Congratulations, Mr. Emerson," an older gentleman was saying as we shook hands.

"Thank you. It is nice to see you. Enjoy your evening." I'd repeated the same thing over and over since the doors opened. I was fucking exhausted.

I wish Rose were here.

If she were standing beside me right now, I wouldn't feel as though a dark cloud hung over my head. Like I was headed to the gallows, not the altar.

The next man stepped in front of me and thrust out his hand stiffly. "Congratulations, Emerson."

I knew him from the clubs around town, which didn't explain why he sounded surly. No one had reason for bitterness here save me. "Hyde, good evening."

Silent, Charles Hyde moved on to Gladys, where he nodded briefly and kept going without a word. I frowned. That was odd. I didn't remember Hyde being so rude in years past.

A different face appeared and the pleasantries continued. I kissed hands, shook palms, and tried not to bolt. It wasn't easy to stand still in the face of my worst nightmare.

When we finally ended, I longed to walk out the front door and never return. A headache pounded behind my eyes. "I'll return in a bit," I told my mother. "There's some work I must attend to."

"Oh, Moore," my mother said, holding onto my arm. "Really. Can it not wait? There are toasts to give and the two of you must dance."

I bent to kiss her cheek and peeled her fingers from my wool coat. "Later, please." After a polite nod to Gladys—and ignoring Whitney-Dunn altogether—I strode to my office and closed the door.

Blessed silence.

The bourbon and solitude in my private space were like a balm for my ragged soul. I sat at my desk and dug into the notes and files left behind by my assistants. It was a familiar routine. Work has been my refuge for the last eight years. Until Rose came along, of course. But after September, I wouldn't have her any longer.

I pushed that depressing thought away and concentrated on my reports.

I lost track of time. When I finally looked up, an hour and a half had disappeared along with a good portion of bourbon. No doubt my mother was pulling her hair out, wondering where I was. The weight atop my shoulders increased, the pressure of my unwanted future like a boulder above my head.

Stop complaining. You have no choice.

Rising, I grabbed a pen and dashed off a quick note to Rose, saying I'd visit as quickly as I could manage tonight. No matter the late hour, I needed to see her.

Carrying the note, I left the office to find a footman. Hopefully, he could get the note over to Rose's town house before she went to bed. Unfortunately, the corridor was empty, not a footman in sight. I considered going into the ballroom to summon one, but I had a deep-seated aversion to encountering any guests at the moment.

Then I realized one of the grooms could perform this errand. Decision made, I skulked like a thief through the connected interior rooms, my feet silent on the plush carpets. I kept going, room by empty room, thinking of all the ways I would defile Rose's delectable body tonight.

When I walked into the library, I heard a gasp and the rustle of skirts.

What on earth?

I turned toward the sound and discovered two figures standing close together near the windows. It was Gladys . . . and Hyde. Guilt was written all over her face, not to mention that her lips were swollen. Like they'd recently been kissed.

I stared, unsure what to say. This was certainly unexpected. Gladys hadn't struck me as particularly amorous or adventurous, yet she'd been miserable at the prospect of marrying me. Was this because of Hyde?

They both watched me warily, as if I might attack at any moment. Most men, I supposed, would be quite angry in this situation. Not me. If anything, this made my life easier. At least Rose would now believe that infidelity posed no problem in my marriage.

Let Gladys have Hyde. I would keep Rose and we'd all feign innocence in public.

"Excuse me," I said with a polite nod in my fiancée's direction as I started across the room.

"Moore, wait," Gladys blurted behind me.

I paused at the door. "Yes?"

She exchanged a look with Hyde. "Tell him," Gladys said, nudging her lover's arm.

Hyde drew himself up, though his cheeks were red. "Moore, you should know that Gladys and I are in love."

Did they believe this mattered? Love didn't factor into our marriage. "And?"

That threw them off. The two exchanged another uncertain glance before Gladys said, "Charles and I have been trying to think of a way to break the engagement. Except, as you know, my father is dead set on the match."

"I'm aware," I grumbled and grabbed the latch to leave.

Gladys's voice once again stopped me. "Moore, wait. Where are you going?"

I sighed in exasperation. "To find a groom. Following that, I'll circulate in the ballroom and dance with you. Then I plan to go and visit my mistress."

"A mistress?"

"Yes—and I don't plan on giving her up after the wedding."

Gladys cocked her head. "You love her."

A denial sprang to my lips, but the words wouldn't come. Did I love Rose? I hadn't experienced the emotion before. Hadn't thought myself capable of it, honestly. Wasn't love soft and sweet, a rainbow of happiness and sunshine?

Such were not my feelings for Rose.

Instead, I felt fevered and frenzied, like I would go mad without her. A caged beast, angry at anyone and anything that kept me from her side. She turned me into a selfish and demanding version of myself, one I hardly recognized.

Was this love? Doubtful. Obsession? Most definitely.

"It doesn't matter," I told the couple across the room. "Now, if you'll both excuse me."

"Wait!" Gladys exclaimed. "Why do you still plan to marry me, even though our hearts have been given to others?"

Was she truly so young, so naive? "Be serious, Gladys. Marriage in our world has naught to do with hearts."

"It's not too late, Emerson," Hyde said. "The vows have not yet been recited."

I folded my arms, leaned against the door, and shook my head. "There is no breaking this off. I suggest you both put it out of your mind."

"Why? I refuse to accept my fate." She lifted her chin. "I would like to think you had the same backbone."

Now she was insulting me? My jaw tight, I pointed in the direction of the ballroom. "There are two hundred people out there celebrating this union. It's appeared in the newspapers. I won't cause another scandal by breaking off this engagement, so you'd best brace yourself to go through with it."

"But . . . " She glanced at Hyde, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Be reasonable, Moore," Hyde said after a beat. "Let us arrive at a solution that benefits everyone."

"Benefits you, you mean." I put my hands on my hips, contemplating what a broken engagement would do to my mother. This could very well kill her. "I don't want this marriage, but it is happening. You two are free to continue your affair both before and after the ceremony. God knows I will try to do the same with Mrs. O'Donahue. All I ask is that my children are my own."

Gladys paled, her discomfort visible. "I cannot believe you are so willing to throw away your future."

I gnashed my back teeth together, the grinding sound echoing in my ears. "You are young and foolish if you believe either of us has a choice in this. And crying off will only cause a scandal. Believe me when I tell you, there will be no scandal."

"Any public spectacle would be short-lived," Gladys tried.

My voice rose in volume as my frustration bubbled over. "It doesn't matter! A public spectacle might very well kill my mother and cost me control of the company!"

Gladys frowned and reached to clasp Hyde's hand. "Are you being blackmailed into marrying me?"

The door opened, startling all of us. I looked over and saw my mother enter the library. "What on earth is happening in here? I heard raised?—"

She froze when she saw Gladys holding Hyde's hand. Then my mother glanced at me, her forehead lined with concern. "Oh, dear."

Immediately, I started for her side, worried this might affect her health. "It's nothing to worry about, mother. We're sorting out a few things before the ceremony. Why don't you return to the ballroom?"

"Stop coddling me. You've been treating me like an invalid since the engagement was announced." She shot a disapproving look at Gladys, then hissed, "Have you no shame, Miss Whitney-Dunn? We are at your betrothal ball."

Whitney-Dunn strode into the room "Charlotte, I've been looking—" He stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene. Gladys had dropped Hyde's hand, but she hadn't moved away from the young man's side. "What the devil is going on in here?"

Hyde took a step forward. "I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

"Over my dead body," Whitney-Dunn snapped, throwing the door closed behind him. "Gladys, get in the damn ballroom with your fiancé right now."

Gladys came forward and wrapped a hand around Hyde's arm. "Father, I want to marry Charles."

"I don't care what you want," her father said. "You'll do as you're told. And you will be marrying Emerson in September."

"No, I won't. I'll run away and elope before I marry another man."

"We discussed this," Whitney-Dunn practically growled. "I want you married to Emerson, not this penniless nobody." He gestured to Hyde.

"Wait," my mother said, her voice patient but confused. "You knew of this association, Harold? Yet you allowed my son to propose to her anyway?"

Allowed me to propose? I almost snorted.

Whitney-Dunn had the grace to appear contrite. "Now, Charlotte. This is nothing for you to worry about. I'll straighten out this situation. Gladys will make an excellent wife to your son."

"Not if she's allowed another man to take her virtue and claim her heart. I wouldn't wish for Moore to be dishonored in such a way."

Whitney-Dunn's face began to turn red. "She is virtuous. Hyde has clearly been filling her head with nonsense, but I'll put a stop to it right away."

I could see my mother's chest rising and falling, her breathing picking up as her face paled. A knot of fear tightened in my belly. "Mother, why don't you sit down? I wouldn't want your heart to act up again."

Her head swung toward me, her brows lowered into a deep groove. "My heart? There's nothing wrong with my heart." Her expression cleared. "Is this why you've been asking after my health every day?"

I held up my palms in apology. "I've spoken with Dr. Fritz. It's all right. I know about your condition."

"Condition? I don't have a condition. I saw Dr. Fritz six weeks ago and he gave me a clean bill of health."

That made no sense. "Are you certain? Because Whitney-Dunn and Dr. Fritz confirmed your heart condition. You're supposed to avoid any undue strain whatsoever."

My mother drew herself up and faced Whitney-Dunn, her body vibrating with visible anger. "I think we'd all best sit down. Harold, I believe you owe me an explanation."