An Unexpected Love (17 page)

10

Saturday, December 4, 1897
Rochester, New York

Sophie strolled toward the punch table, uninterested in the conversation and dancing that swirled around her; she would have much preferred to remain at home that evening. Although every eligible bachelor in Rochester was in attendance, Aunt Victoria’s coming-home party held little appeal, and she looked forward to escaping at the earliest opportunity. They’d celebrated with a Thanksgiving dinner only days earlier, and she wasn’t interested in any further festivities.

“Am I to assume you are ill this evening?”

Sophie turned from the punch table and discovered herself face-to-face with Paul Medford. She furrowed her brow. “Why would you think I am unwell? Has the pale gray shade of my dress caused me to appear sallow?”

“No. In fact, your gown is quite beautiful, but I am unaccustomed to seeing you stand at a punch bowl. Normally, you can’t seem to find enough dance partners, yet tonight I’ve not seen you dance even once.” He pointed to the card that hung from her wrist. “I believe I see a number of vacant lines on your dance card. How can that be? Sophie Broadmoor, the most sought-after dance partner in all of Rochester, not dancing?”

She chose to ignore the gibe. “I’m not interested in dancing with any of the men in attendance.” She took a sip of her punch. “How is your grandmother’s health?”

He arched his brows. “I’m surprised you even remembered my grandmother was ill. I must say, you don’t act like the same young lady who departed Rochester six weeks ago.”

“Perhaps that’s because I’m not the same. My life has changed completely.” She gazed across the rim of her punch cup.

“I’m intrigued. Exactly what occurred in England to change your life in such a dramatic manner?”

“I have met my one true love, the man who meets my every expectation. If all goes according to plan, I hope to spend the rest of my life with him.” She felt a sense of satisfaction as she watched the look of surprise cross his face. “In fact, I expect to be engaged by Christmas.”

“Christmas? That’s less than a month away. Who is this man? Someone you’ve known for several years, I would guess.”

Sophie shook her head. “Someone I met while in England. We were immediately drawn to each other. He’s been married previously. His wife died and he’d been somewhat inconsolable until we met. He says that I’ve given him new purpose in his life.”

“So you plan to live in England?”

“Oh, he’s not an Englishman. His name is Wesley Hedrick, and he lives in New York City.” She set her punch glass on the table. “I’ll introduce him when he arrives during the Christmas holidays. Oh, there’s Amanda. Do excuse me.”

While Sophie expertly wended her way among the visiting guests, Paul maintained a watchful gaze. There was no denying Sophie’s behavior had changed dramatically, yet with all the men Sophie had enchanted in her short lifetime, he wondered what she’d found so special in this Wesley Hedrick. And how could she possibly consider marriage to a man she barely knew? Surely her father would not approve of such a match.

As if drawn by his thoughts, Quincy Broadmoor entered the room and strode toward Paul. “I’m glad to see you decided to attend. I dislike these functions as much as the next man, but sometimes we must make the effort—at least that’s what the women tell me.” He clapped Paul on the shoulder. “You should go in and meet some of the young ladies instead of hovering over the punch bowl.”

“I’m not considered much of a dance partner. Unfortunately, I step on the ladies’ feet far too frequently, and they are generally pleased when the music stops.”

“I can commiserate only too well. You should ask Sophie or one of her cousins to give you a few lessons. I’m certain they’d be pleased to teach you the steps. It seems the women can never get enough of dancing.”

“Speaking of Sophie, I enjoyed a cup of punch with her only a short time ago. She mentioned a man named Wesley Hedrick—said she’d met him in England. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone speak of him previously. Have you made his acquaintance?”

“I’ve not been personally introduced, but Mr. Hedrick has written to me. His letters speak with great enthusiasm regarding the Home for the Friendless. He expresses a genuine interest in paying us a visit at the Home.” Quincy tipped his head closer. “He’s mentioned that after seeing the work we are doing, he may want to donate a great deal of money to help further our cause. From his letter, I can tell that he’s been involved in charitable work for many years. I surmise he is deeply interested in continuing his good deeds.”

“That is truly good news. We could use someone with both money and influence to help in our expansion efforts. Does Mr. Hedrick state when he may visit?”

“Sometime before the Christmas holiday. I understand he’s been invited to spend Christmas with the family. He’s a widower— no children. Having lost my own dear Marie, I can certainly understand his feelings of loneliness. Especially since he has no children or other family nearby. I’ve told Sophie she should extend a welcome for as long as he can arrange to be with us here in Rochester.”

“Since he has just returned from England, I’d think he would need to remain at home and attend to his duties in New York City.”

Quincy shrugged. “From what I’ve been told, he’s quite successful. I imagine he has employees who are capable of managing his business ventures. Victoria mentioned that his deceased wife was a cousin of Lady Illiff, though I’ve never met her, either. Jonas and Victoria know far more people than I. Although my wife was interested in attending occasional social functions, Marie didn’t travel abroad like other members of the family do. She much preferred returning to visit her family in Canada.” Talk of his deceased wife caused tears to form, and Quincy swiped his hand across his eyes and then nodded toward the door. “Ah, Dr. Carstead has arrived. I should go and greet him.”

Paul moved back toward a far corner of the room, suddenly feeling alone in this vast sea of people. He’d attended at Quincy’s request, but deep in his heart he knew he’d wanted to see Sophie. Since her return from England, they’d spoken only in passing. She seemed always to be in a hurry nowadays. Her announcement of an impending engagement had come as a complete surprise. Why did he feel as though something had been stolen from beneath his nose?

He’d watched over Sophie’s behavior in an attempt to keep her safe and guard her reputation, but these stirrings deep inside were far more than the feelings of brotherly concern for his employer’s unruly daughter. When had this change of heart begun?

From his vantage point, he could see Sophie standing near one of the French doors leading to the garden. Was she planning to sneak away and return home now that she’d made her required appearance? To see her ignoring the overtures of each man who drew near reinforced what she’d told him. Yet he didn’t want to believe she had so easily fallen in love with some wealthy stranger. He silently reminded himself that he’d been invited by Quincy as an advocate for the Home for the Friendless. Accordingly, his time at this party was expected to yield a few benefactors. Instead, he was leaning in a corner and contemplating Sophie’s future. Paul spotted Julius Mansford and forced himself to move from the corner. The owner of the Syracuse Furniture Company could possibly be counted upon for a hefty donation.

Amanda sidled up to Sophie while keeping her attention fixed upon the tall man speaking to her uncle Quincy and a small cluster of people across the room. “You’re certain he’s a doctor?”

“Yes.” Sophie bobbed her head. “I saw him at the Home for the Friendless yesterday. He arrived in town while we were in England. Father convinced him to volunteer his services to the residents one day a week.”

“What’s his name?” Amanda could barely contain her excitement.

“Carlson, or something like that. I didn’t pay much attention.”

“I want to meet him! Take me over and introduce me.”

“I can’t introduce him when I don’t remember his name.” Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Is all this interest because he’s a doctor?”

“Of course. You know how much I want to attend medical school. Perhaps he’ll offer some advice.” She wanted to take Sophie by the hand and drag her across the room. “Can you honestly not remember his name?”

“I truly don’t recall. He’s somewhat attractive. Not nearly as handsome as Wesley, of course, but pleasant appearing.”

“I care little what he looks like,” Amanda said, craning her neck to see beyond the gathering of men with Uncle Quincy. “It’s his knowledge that interests me. I’m going to go over and attempt to join in the conversation. Surely someone will introduce me.” Amanda squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Wish me well.”

Sophie grinned. “Always. And if all else fails, go fetch Paul— I’m sure he will introduce you.”

After calculating the best way to situate herself among the group, Amanda carefully circled the cluster of guests and stopped near her uncle’s elbow. She listened as the men discussed local politics and the new mayor who would soon take office. When several minutes had passed and no one had paid her any notice, she nudged her uncle’s elbow.

“Ah, Amanda. How are you, my dear?” he inquired.

“Fine, Uncle Quincy.”

“I believe Sophie is across the room.”

Amanda nodded. “Yes. I talked with her only moments ago. She mentioned you’d invited a doctor to the party.”

“Indeed. A fine man, I might add. He seems most dedicated.”

“His name?”

Her uncle rubbed his jaw. “I’m sorry. I should introduce you, shouldn’t I?” He waited for a lull in the conversation and then signaled. “Dr. Carstead, I’d like to introduce my niece, Amanda Broadmoor.”

Amanda sized him up immediately. Wavy brown hair crowned his head in a barely tamed manner while his dark hazel eyes held a slightly amused glint. He was more than somewhat attractive, but Amanda pushed such thoughts aside.

Dr. Carstead nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Broadmoor.”

Amanda didn’t give him an opportunity to return to his previous conversation. “And I’m pleased to meet you, Dr. Carstead.” When several of the men removed themselves from the group, Amanda stepped closer. “I, too, am interested in a medical career.”

“Truly? A midwife perhaps?” He studied her with an assessing glance and tolerant smile.

“No. I plan to attend medical school and become a physician like you.”

His grin vanished. “I’ve heard many young women such as you tell me they are seeking a career in medicine. Once they discover the extent of the medical training they must undergo, I find they are more interested in seeking a husband. Few young ladies understand the depth of knowledge required to hang out a shingle. Even after completing my education, I was required to complete further study to qualify as a surgeon.”

Amanda squared her shoulders. “I can assure you that I am not searching for a husband, Dr. Carstead. Quite frankly, I find both your attitude and your tone condescending—and uncalled for, I might add.”

Her words were enough to scatter the few remaining members of their group. She folded her arms across her waist and awaited his rebuttal.

“As I said, I’ve seen many young women think they will become the next Florence Nightingale, but when faced with the reality of sickness, disease, and injury, their plans fly out the window.”

“If you know so much about Miss Nightingale, then you know she prefers to focus her attention on nursing. I desire to be a doctor and therefore have no intention of becoming the next Florence Nightingale. I have a sharp mind and good memory. I believe I will make a satisfactory student,” Amanda countered.

“You may withstand the educational process, Miss Broadmoor, but you would never survive the daily rigors of medical practice.”

“Is that so? Well,
Dr.
Carstead, I will prove you wrong. Permit me to train with you for a time, and I will prove myself.”

His eyes shone with amusement as his brow arched. “You? Why, you wouldn’t last a week.”

It was more than enough challenge for Amanda. “Would you care to place a wager on that, or are you afraid you’d lose?”

“My dear Miss Broadmoor, you surely know that gambling is a bad habit to fall into.”

“As are pride and a judgmental attitude, but you appear eager enough to fall into those practices.”

He tilted his head and seemed to consider her challenge for a moment. “I know you won’t endure a week, but if you do, I’ll permit you to train with me for as long as you desire.” He grinned. “And you must know how certain that makes me that you will not succeed.”

“If you would accompany me, Doctor?” She raised her brows in a question mark. When he offered an affirmative nod, Amanda signaled him forward. “I’d like you to sign an agreement. I’ll retrieve a piece of writing paper from my father’s desk in the library.”

Dr. Carstead reluctantly followed behind her. “Will your family not think it strange that you are slipping into the unoccupied areas of the house with a stranger?”

Amanda pushed open the library door. “Hardly. They know me to be a sensible woman.”

He chuckled. “But even sensible women are capable of errors in judgment.”

Amanda went to the secretary and opened a drawer. “So are sensible men.”

“Are you implying that I have erred in my judgment of you?”

She turned with a sheet of paper in hand. “I’m not implying it. I’m assuring you of it.” She lowered the writing table and quickly took up pen and ink. “I believe my abilities will surprise you.”

“They already have,” he assured. “For I never would have believed I’d find myself in such a position.”

She wrote on the paper for several lines, then blew lightly upon the page to dry the ink. Amanda could feel Dr. Carstead’s gaze upon her, but she refused to turn and acknowledge him. No doubt he thought her a silly girl with foolish notions.
The next Florence Nightingale indeed!

“All right,” she said, handing him the paper, “I believe this will set things in motion.”

He looked the paper over, and although he made one futile attempt to dissuade her, he signed the document and placed it in Amanda’s outstretched hand. She would begin after Christmas.