The Shipmaster's Daughter (21 page)

Luciana managed a smile and a nod. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” Aliana rose and pointed to the left. “There it is.” She sat down, all traces of sadness and regret gone from her face. “Let’s try and have fun, yes?”

Luciana peered up at the towering building. The words “Richard’s Dress Parlor” were written on a red sign hanging over the door. Two women walked out of the establishment, each carrying large white bags, broad smiles on their faces. Her heart leapt at the sight.

She looked at Aliana and laughed. “It would be impossible to not have fun with you,
Perdere
Martin.”

Aliana tutted her tongue. “Oh, Miss Renaldi, you’ll make me blush.”

They entered the store, arm in arm.

Several hours later, after Aliana had already settled on her dress—a pretty soft pink gown that fit her perfectly—Luciana was still having difficulty picking out her gown. She stood on a small box, in front of a full length mirror. Aliana sat behind her on a yellow couch, a content smile on her face. An attendant stood off to the side, waiting for Luciana’s decision.

She wore a fitted gray gown, silken and sleek. It was a beautiful dress with balloon sleeves and a pleated skirt, but it made her look ten years older. Her skin looked gray, like the dress, and sickly.

“No,” Aliana said after a moment of consideration. “No, definitely not.” She took a sip of her champagne.

Luciana smiled. “I thought the same.” She turned to the attendant, sheepish. “Do you have anything else?”

The attendant sighed. “I might have one or two more your size. Follow me, miss.”

Ten minutes later, Luciana stepped out in a blue cotton dress. The skirt was complete with four tiers, each outfitted with a trim of lace at the bottom. Her waist was pinched tight, making it hard to breathe, with a silk white ribbon that formed a bow at her back. The bodice was equally as simple: a white lace overlay over the blue cotton and butterfly sleeves with more lace underneath.

Aliana leaned forward when she stepped onto the box. “We’re getting somewhere now.” She nodded to the attendant and plucked another flute from the tray.

Luciana twisted to this side and that, watching as the skirt swung back and forth. What would Reed think of her in this dress? The thought brought a slight blush to her cheeks. No doubt he was cross with her for having spoken so rudely that morning. He probably wouldn’t give her a second glance.

“Are you thinking about Reed?”

Luciana’s eyes snapped to Aliana’s reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know why you would think that.” Her voice was barely an audible whisper, her heart clogged in her throat.

“Because I am,” Aliana continued, rising from the couch. She hadn’t heard Luciana. Just as well. “I’m terribly frightened of what he’ll think.”

Luciana swallowed hard. “About the dress?”

Aliana shook her head and bit her lower lip. “No, silly. About me in general.” She held her choice of dress against her body and twirled around in a circle. “This is all for him, you know.” She dropped the gown suddenly and grabbed Luciana’s upper arm in a vice-like grip. “Don’t you think he’s handsome?” she breathed, giddy.

Luciana could smell the champagne on her breath. She must have over-drank at lunch. She motioned to the attendant. “I’ll take this one.
Grazie
.” Stepping from the box, she gathered Aliana’s dress from the floor and lead her to the couch. “I do think Reed is...handsome,
si
.”

It felt odd to say it aloud. She had only ever kept her thoughts about Reed’s appearance to herself. To voice them made her stomach twist. It made her feelings for him all the more real and unavoidable.

“He’s roguishly handsome, I think. Not that he’s a rogue because he’s certainly not.” Aliana giggled, tossing her head back. “He’s just so...attractive.” She snorted and held her hand up to her nose, snorting again. “Oh gracious,” she said between fits of laughter.

Luciana rushed to the changing room, switched out the blue gown for her skirt and shirtwaist, and handed the dress to the attendant as she made her way to Aliana. “I think it’s time we went home. Here, take my arm.”

Aliana, instead, wrapped her arm around Luciana’s waist and stumbled as they walked for the door. With her other arm, Luciana carried the bags containing their dresses.

“Send the bill to my house,” Aliana said as they exited, waving her arm. “Apartment C on Clarkson Street.”

After Luciana maneuvered Aliana from the store to the waiting barouche without injury, she breathed a sigh of relief. “You can go, Peters,” she said. She sat back as the carriage began to roll, smirking as Aliana grinned at her. “What?”

Aliana bent forward. “Reed and I were going to be married,” she whispered, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

Luciana’s heart stuttered and she felt her face draw blank. “What?” Humor no longer laced her voice.

“He and I nearly married.” Her face turned sour, and she stuck her tongue out. “But then he married that rotten old Katherine and they had that stupid little girl.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aliana, that’s not very–”

She shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s true.” The grin returned to her face, innocent and hopeful. “Now that Katherine’s dead, I want to marry him again. And of course he’ll want me. Look at me.” She laughed, snorted, and wrinkled her nose. “I plan to propose on the evening of the dinner party.”

Luciana felt bile rise in her throat. How much had Aliana drank? She didn’t know what she was saying. She couldn’t be serious. Propose? To Reed? The idea was preposterous and...

And it made Luciana break out into a nervous sweat. What if—on some off chance—he accepted? What would become of her? She couldn’t stay if he married someone else. Not when she was pretty damn certain she loved him.

“That’s just the gin talking,” she muttered, swiping her hand over her warm forehead.

“What did you say?”

Luciana looked up. “Nothing.”

“Oh, I do so hope he’ll say yes,” Aliana said, tipping her head back to rest against the headrest.

Luciana found herself beginning to hope Reed called the dinner party off. Between their argument and Aliana’s drunken ramblings, she wasn’t so sure this was a grand idea anymore. Nor that Aliana had any of their best interests in mind.

Maybe Reed was right. Maybe it was she that had been wrong. She glanced across the barouche. Aliana’s mouth hung open, soft snores filling the air. Aliana was her friend, wasn’t she? She couldn’t be as mean as Reed hinted. There was no way a woman with Aliana’s grace and beauty possessed an ugly inside.

Holding her chin erect, Luciana shook away the notion. Reed was wrong about Aliana. He must be.

Chapter 23

T
he party arrived a week later. Since his strong words with Luciana in the ballroom, Reed had, once again, avoided her tactfully. He couldn’t claim to be skilled with confrontation and he also wasn’t especially adept when handling his own feelings. He was British, after all.

He dreaded the party. While several of the advisors he invited had accepted the invitation, which boded well, he wasn’t sure he’d in the right frame of mind when the woman he loved would be on his arm all evening. Everything rode on the advisors’ approval. If he wanted to start an investment firm—and he did—he needed their expertise. All he wanted was a little stability, some normalcy, in his life again. He needed it for himself and for Esther. Having Luciana by his side all evening was sure to distract him.

Her words stung. She’d called him a beast, a bloody beast! Not so easy to forget. Reed’s nostrils flared as he tugged his suit jacket a little closer. And maybe he was a beast for being tough with Aliana that morning. But her wretched idea was costing him more money than he wished to spend. Still, the anger that consumed Luciana’s eyes, the way she could barely look at him, and now the way she looked away in shame when he walked into a room—it all made Reed’s fists clench and jaw tighten. Women were a messy matter. He should have thought twice before letting himself fall for her.

If this dinner party didn’t prove to be fruitful for his investment idea, he would do what Jack always did and run to the continent and spend all his money on booze, women, and oriental rugs. It seemed to make him happy enough.

“Mr. Hargrave?” Mrs. Peters knocked on the door twice—two short raps of her knuckles.

He turned from the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get, he supposed. He had pulled all of his hair back into a low queue and dressed in his finest. It was an odd look: a slim, overly tall man with shoulder length hair and a neatly trimmed beard dressed in fine fitting, fine looking clothes. What would Katherine think of him now? He shook his head.

She was dead. It didn’t matter what she thought.

The knocks came again, this time urgent. “Mr. Hargrave?”

He stalked to the door and threw it open. Mrs. Peters fell back a step, clutching her oversized stomach. “What?” He winced at his harsh tone. Nerves did that to a man.

“They’re starting to arrive,” she said, jerking her head toward the direction of staircase. “And,” she added, almost as if an afterthought, “the ladies are waiting, too.”

Reed stepped into the hall. “Naturally,” he muttered. “Thank you, Mrs. Peters.” She nodded, but hesitated, nibbling on her lower lip. He resisted the urge to sigh. “Is there something else?”

“Mrs. Hargrave would have been right glad to see you like this, sir. You’re makin’ something of this house again. Just—just don’t get your priorities mixed up.”

She could only mean Luciana. Or Aliana. Or maybe both. Poor Mrs. Peters. So loyal, yet so mistrusting.

He patted her shoulder. “Point taken, Mrs. Peters.”

She nodded. “I’ll scurry to the kitchen then. Enjoy yourself, Mr. Hargrave.”

Reed thanked her and straightened his shoulders. It was now or never. Anger or no anger, he was going to impress those advisors. He was going to open an investment firm.

He turned the corner, running through his speeches for the advisors again, not bothering to focus on where he walked.

“There you are, thank God,” Jack said, a slight edge to his voice.

Reed looked up. Jack, as well as Aliana and Luciana, stood before him. “Sorry I’m late.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “People are starting to arrive. I think you should be there to greet them.”

“Of course.” Without giving her much of a glance, Reed offered his arm to Luciana. She took it after a moment’s hesitation. Her hand felt stiff curled over his forearm. He took a step forward, but was stopped by Aliana’s voice.

“I hope everyone enjoys this evening.” She sounded both hopeful and terrified.

“No doubt we will,” Jack said, patting her hand.

“And before you go, Reed, I wondered if I might have a word with you sometime this evening?” Aliana’s voice cracked and her cheeks turned a pretty pink.

“I might not have the time.” There was no way he was going to let Aliana Martin corner him. She would talk about the past, and Katherine, and things that no longer mattered. He had somehow avoided her thus far. He could make it another night, couldn’t he?

“If you do, though?”

“Then certainly, Miss Martin.” He bowed stiffly and then, turning to Luciana, said, “I hope you won’t mind greeting our guests.”

She shook her head. Her eyes reflected the glimmering lights. “Not at all.”

They took their places beside the entrance of the rotunda. The house was shining. Flower arrangements stood jammed into every opening imaginable. Shimmering lights hung from posts on the walls. Music drifted out from the open doors of the ballroom, already filling with guests. Luciana stood beside him, her hands clasped in front of her waist, knuckles white. She looked over her shoulder toward the shuffling crowd every few seconds, lips caught between her teeth.

He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked. Unlike the other women they greeted, who wore their hair in fashionable twists, adorned with pearls and clasps, Luciana wore her hair down. It was wavier than usual and a single golden comb held back the sides of her hair. Her dress—blue and soft—hugged her waist and gave her the appearance of someone floating when she walked. She stuck out like he did. What with her long hair, tan skin, and thick accent, she was a rare thing for the everyday English to behold. They pestered her with questions upon meeting her—
Where are you from? How long have you been here? Truly, you can tell me, is there something special between you and Mr. Hargrave?
—but she answered with grace and honesty after each new guest.

He let himself reach out and touch her back. It was a simple touch, fleeting and light, but it was meant as reassurance. To let her know he was there. He may be cross with her, but that didn’t mean he would abandon her to the claws of female society.

At long last, the final guests arrived. Reed escorted Luciana into the ballroom, where he greeted the gathering and told them to enjoy themselves, drink as much as they like, and stay as long as they wish. Yellow Brook was their home for the evening. It had been in the past, with the late Mrs. Hargrave’s guiding hand, and would be today. After a smattering of applause, the music restarted and the party began.