A Touch of Scarlet Read online

  She was mildly aware her grandfather continued speaking. His voice, usually so strong and firm, seemed to come at her through a wall of water. She fought for her next breath. And then the next. Each one came faster, harder, dragging her toward a dark pit in her mind. She thought she might be sick.

  Breathe, Elizabeth. In and out. Yes, that’s it.

  She tried to focus but caught only snippets of the plans already underway for her impending departure. The final string of words had her stiffening: “You set sail in two months.”

  Two months?

  Too soon.

  Not soon enough.

  She pulled in a slow, bracing breath.

  For months, she’d felt like an exotic bird trapped in a gilded cage. A delicate creature adored from afar, lauded for her beauty and very little else.

  The truth hit Elizabeth like a punch to the heart. This wasn’t her moment of triumph. She wasn’t breaking free of her mundane life. She was merely trading one cage for another.

  She’d hoped that once she was away from New York she would finally have a life she chose for herself, not the one her mother had created for her.

  “You may begin purchasing your wardrobe immediately.” Her grandfather’s calm voice only agitated her further. “My cousin Matilda will help you. Having recently returned from London, she will know the styles you should choose to gain the appropriate attention from English gentlemen.”

  Elizabeth nodded, not really caring what English gentlemen thought of her. Her grandfather’s money would secure her a husband, not her clothing, looks, or accomplishments.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  She shook her head.

  “You may go.” He gestured toward the door.

  The conversation was officially over.

  She turned.

  At the door, she looked back over her shoulder. A sigh leaked past her lips. The two men she loved most in the world were happily sending her to another country to find a husband with a title. Once she boarded the ship, she might never see her family again.

  Her stomach roiled at the thought.

  As she stood there, staring at her father and grandfather, she realized just how little she wanted to go to London. It wasn’t merely because she would miss her family. Of course she would miss them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry. She did, one day. The problem was that Elizabeth wanted more. More.

  The word whispered through her mind, again and again.

  More.

  She wanted more than duty. More than blind obedience. More than marriage to a stranger for the sake of the family.

  A thread of rebellion slipped through Elizabeth, a weak but steady throb thrumming through her veins and strengthening her conviction. She had two months before she left for London.

  She had time. Not much. But some.

  All was not yet lost.

  After shutting the door behind her with a firm click, Elizabeth found herself alone in the hallway once more. Tears threatened. She blinked them back, determined not to cry.

  Disappointment gnawed at her like little rat teeth, urging her to give in to her distress. When a woman made a life-altering decision, she expected a bit of enthusiasm in return. Her father and grandfather’s lackluster reaction stung.

  You may always be counted on to do what we ask.

  Words of praise she’d once coveted now seemed the ultimate insult.

  She opened and closed her fists, then set out for the refuge of her room, navigating the labyrinth of hallways with restless, choppy strides. At the end of the corridor, she turned left and continued moving at a clipped pace.

  St. James House was massive, claiming nearly an entire block near Madison Square. The building itself was a twelve-bedroom structure made of imported marble, limestone, and brick. The interior was overfurnished due to four generations of input yet still tastefully decorated. Every inch of the walls was filled with paintings and portraits done by the masters. Rembrandts shared space with pictures painted by Monet and Degas. There were even a few of the American Impressionists’ works, Elizabeth’s favorite done by Theodore Robinson.

  She was fortunate to live among so much luxury, for no other reason than she’d been born a St. James. It wasn’t that Elizabeth didn’t appreciate her blessings. She lived a charmed life. The Lord had been good to her, when she’d done nothing to deserve His favor. The Bible called that grace.

  How could she enjoy such plenty and still feel trapped?

  The emptiness that had plagued Elizabeth for months seemed to grow stronger by the day. She feared the sensation would swallow her whole if she didn’t do . . . something.

  Exasperation propelled her around the next corner. What would her grandfather and father do if she rebelled? Not in a grand manner, but in some small, unassuming way?

  At the moment, even that seemed beyond her.

  Elizabeth came to the end of yet another hallway and, finally, escaped into her room. Guided by a ray of sunshine spilling through the enormous window overlooking the streets of New York, she collapsed into her favorite overstuffed chair. As she threw her legs over one of the arms, a sigh leaked out of her. “What now?”

  When no answer immediately came to mind, she allowed herself another, longer sigh.

  “The conversation with your grandfather went that poorly?”

  “Oh.” Elizabeth gave a little start. “Sally, I . . . you . . .” She swiveled her head in the direction of the adjoining room that led to her maid’s private quarters. “You startled me.”

  “Forgive me.” The young woman flashed an apologetic grimace. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Of course it wasn’t.” Swinging her legs to the floor, Elizabeth smiled at her lady’s maid silhouetted in the doorway.

  Sally wore a nondescript black dress under a long white apron tied in a neat bow at her back. The bonnet on the young woman’s head hid most of her hair, but not all. The maid was a blue-eyed blonde like Elizabeth. They were close to the same age, identical in height and build. They could pass for sisters, at least in looks.

  In personality, they were complete opposites. Elizabeth was more reserved and always tempered her speech. Sally was often frank with her opinions and carried an aura of mystery that hinted at secrets and silent pain. So much so that Elizabeth doubted whether her last name was even Smith, as she claimed. But Sally never spoke of her past, and Elizabeth never pressed.

  At the maid’s lifted eyebrows, Elizabeth realized she hadn’t answered her question.

  “The conversation went . . . Oh, Sally.” She sighed heavily. “It was a complete disaster from start to finish.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The simple, sympathetic response had Elizabeth swallowing back a sob. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d come to rely on her new maid, not merely in her official capacity but as a friend.

  Sally had originally served Elizabeth’s cousin. Instead of continuing on with Caroline after her wedding, the young woman had surprised everyone and just over a month ago requested a position with Elizabeth. At the time, Elizabeth had been grateful. Her mother’s treachery had been revealed days prior, and she’d been more than a little lost.

  As it turned out, Sally had been a godsend. The maid understood Elizabeth in ways no one ever had before, except perhaps her former governess.

  “Well?” The maid moved to the bed, idly picked up a blanket, and began folding it into a neat square. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  Not wanting to relive the conversation but needing to unburden herself, Elizabeth shut her eyes and gave Sally an abbreviated version. “My grandfather and father weren’t a bit surprised by my announcement.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Arrangements for my passage are complete. All that’s left is for me to choose my wardrobe.”

  Sally paused mid-fold and tilted her head. “Why do I get the sense you are leaving a portion of the tale untold?”

  Not quite meeting the maid’s e
yes, Elizabeth lifted a shoulder. “Those are the important highlights. Their lack of surprise was disheartening.”

  “I imagine it was.” Sally enunciated each word in her flat midwestern accent, which didn’t quite match her delicate features and fine bone structure.

  “I only have myself to blame.” Elizabeth blew the hair off her forehead with an impatient huff. “I’ve never given them cause to expect anything but my absolute obedience.”

  “You are too compliant.”

  Elizabeth didn’t disagree.

  Twenty years of perfect behavior was entirely too long. The spurt of rebellion she’d felt in her grandfather’s office came to life once again. “Something has to change.”

  With great care, Sally set the blanket back on the bed and turned to face Elizabeth. Her eyes were filled with wisdom far beyond her years. “I have often found that taking one small step can result in surprising benefits.”

  “One small step. You make it sound so simple.” So achievable.

  “The first step makes the next one easier.”

  The seed of rebellion dug deeper, growing tender roots. If Elizabeth had the courage to disregard convention, if only a little, what would she do?

  The clock on the mantelpiece struck the top of the hour, startling her to her feet. She glanced at the time. The afternoon had gotten away from her.

  “It’s getting late. Long past time you dressed for tonight’s ball.” Sally moved toward the closet, threw open the doors, and disappeared inside.

  Elizabeth didn’t want to go to another ball. She’d already been to four this season. She didn’t want to smile and pretend all was well. But she could not avoid this evening’s celebration honoring her best friend’s engagement. Penelope Griffin hadn’t always had an easy life. Elizabeth was happy she’d found love and wanted to congratulate her with the rest of New York society.

  “What dress shall you wear?” Sally returned holding two exquisite gowns, one in each hand. “This one?” She lifted the pretty blue dress designed specifically for Elizabeth. “Or this one?” With a hitch of her chin, the maid indicated the pale-green silk with corded gold trim.

  Elizabeth considered her choices. The blue gown had arrived from her mother’s favorite Parisian couture house just two days ago. Elizabeth had worn the green dress last week, at a soiree given by one of her grandfather’s business associates. The gown had hung in her closet for nearly a year prior to that event.

  Her mother’s voice consumed all other thought: No woman of fine breeding should be caught in last season’s design. And she must never be seen in the same gown twice.

  Sighing, Elizabeth reached for the blue dress, hesitated, frowned. Even now, with Katherine St. James banished to their family estate in Florida, Elizabeth had nearly submitted to her mother’s wishes.

  One small step.

  One tiny rebellion.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  “I’ll wear the green silk.” Her mother would be appalled.

  Sally gave an approving nod. “Excellent choice.”

  Heart infinitely lighter, Elizabeth allowed herself a small, secretive smile. The party she’d been dreading moments before suddenly held endless possibilities.

  And tonight, she would face each of them in last season’s gown.

  Chapter Two

  Barely an hour after arriving at the party, Elizabeth thought she might suffocate under the enormous weight of her disappointment.

  Her first act of defiance was a complete and utter failure. The greater portion of party guests had treated her with their usual smiles and kind remarks. Several had even complimented her dress, including a few who’d attended last week’s soiree.

  One small step had turned into one large letdown.

  Frowning, she retreated into the shadows of a sizable potted plant. She wasn’t hiding, precisely. She simply needed a moment to recover her composure.

  Dancers twirled past in a silken spool of colors and textures, stirring the dark-green leaves beside her. A young woman giggled from somewhere nearby, the shrill sound at odds with the soft romantic notes of the waltz.

  Desperately wishing the evening were over, but knowing she couldn’t leave for hours yet, Elizabeth melted deeper into the shadows. She’d never felt more out of place, or more like a fraud. She certainly couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to join in the celebration of her friend’s impending wedding.

  How could she? Everything Elizabeth thought she knew about marriage was based on lies and half-truths.

  She thought her parents had married for love. Her father had. Her mother had not. The St. James name and overflowing coffers had wooed Katherine into the match. God’s design for marriage had never entered the equation.

  Is going to London seeking a husband with a title any different?

  Elizabeth dismissed the disturbing thought with a swat at a wayward branch swaying in front of her face. Unlike Katherine St. James, Elizabeth wasn’t marrying for personal gain. Her match was solely for the benefit of the family.

  What of love? What of passion?

  There’d been a time when Elizabeth had dreamed of both. Now, she wanted out of New York and away from a life that was tarnished beyond all repair.

  Lips pressed in a flat line, she slipped her gaze over the glittering crush of silks and satins. Everyone seemed so happy, so full of joy. Everyone but Elizabeth. She wasn’t happy. She was . . .

  Feeling sorry for herself.

  She hated feeling sorry for herself. It spoke of a selfish nature far too similar to her mother’s.

  Sick of her own company, Elizabeth set out for the refreshment table. Perhaps a glass of lemonade would settle her nerves. She’d hardly taken a step when two female voices fell over her. They spoke in hushed whispers.

  Elizabeth froze. She’d stayed in the shadows too long. Now she was trapped, with no easy escape in sight. If she moved, the women would see her and probably suspect she’d been listening to their conversation.

  Hoping to block out their voices, she focused on the music. She nearly succeeded. But then she heard her name.

  “Elizabeth St. James is such a lovely girl.”

  The other quickly agreed. “She is perfectly well mannered. She would have made him a proper wife.”

  Elizabeth stifled a gasp. They were speaking about her and Jackson.

  “Thrown over for her own cousin; it’s simply too dreadful to contemplate.”

  And yet, of course, they proceeded to contemplate the matter in excruciating detail. They had no shame, saying mean, hurtful things about Jackson and his new bride, Caroline. Two people Elizabeth adored, who’d done nothing wrong other than fall in love.

  Elizabeth desperately wanted to step out of the shadows and call the women out for their atrocious behavior. Didn’t they know gossip was a sin?

  She shifted slightly, now hoping to draw attention to herself. Unfortunately, the women were too deep in their conversation to notice her. She made another attempt, then paused as she remembered the promise she’d made to Caroline and Jackson. She was not to defend them in public, under any circumstances. Caroline had made Elizabeth vow not to jeopardize her reputation for the sake of theirs.

  How she regretted agreeing to their request. Even if she hadn’t made that promise, she couldn’t confront the women. This was Penelope’s engagement party. Nothing must spoil her friend’s evening.

  “That boy proved to be just like his father.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth at the flagrant inaccuracy. Jackson was nothing like his father. Edward Montgomery had run off with his wife’s sister without a single concern for how his behavior would affect others.

  Jackson had come to Elizabeth directly. He’d explained why he wasn’t going to ask for her hand in marriage.

  Elizabeth hadn’t been surprised. She certainly hadn’t been hurt. She’d been relieved and so very happy for Jackson, for her cousin Caroline, and most of all, for herself.

  “That poor, tragic girl. She’s so brave.�
��

  Tragic? Brave? Elizabeth was neither.

  “His rejection must have been beyond humiliating.”

  Jackson hadn’t rejected her. He’d given Elizabeth her freedom. Are you really free?

  She would be. In two months.

  “I hear her mother was so distraught she took to her bed for weeks.”

  Fury rushed through Elizabeth, heating her cheeks and increasing her heartbeat. Her mother had not taken to her bed. She’d been banished to the family’s estate in Florida for what she’d done to Caroline’s mother.

  Oh, how Elizabeth wanted to tell the gossiping old biddies the true story. But it wasn’t hers to tell. Stepping into the middle of the conversation would only complicate matters for two people she loved.

  Just as Elizabeth thought she couldn’t bear another moment of hearing the gossips discuss her family, they turned to another topic, something about an unfortunate young woman whose parentage had recently been thrown into question.

  Honestly. That was really quite enough.

  Elizabeth slipped out of the shadows.

  Almost immediately, a hand clasped her arm. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Forcing a smile, Elizabeth swiveled around to face her oldest and dearest friend in the world. “And now you’ve found me.”

  “So I have.” Penelope laughed. The sound was full of unbridled joy.

  A rush of relief flooded Elizabeth. “You look terribly happy, Penny.”

  “Of course I’m happy, divinely so.” Penelope’s responding smile brightened the entire room. “Simon is my perfect match in every way. He’s simply, why, he’s simply wonderful.”

  She laughed again, a sweet, tinkling, infectious sound.

  This time, Elizabeth joined in her friend’s merriment.

  As a child, Penelope had struggled with a pronounced stammer. Her inability to speak clearly had earned her ridicule from other girls their age.

  Elizabeth had stood up for her friend, but the cruelty had taken a toll. Penelope had become painfully shy. Though she’d grown into an attractive woman, with a lovely oval face, light-brown hair, and eyes a rich amber color, Penelope was still cautious and overly timid.