In Good Company (30 page)

Lucetta smiled, and this time it was a genuine one. “I’ll keep that in mind. And thank you for realizing I don’t like to flirt.”

“Lucetta’s a little sensitive about people drooling over her all the time because of her looks,” Millie said. “But it was very well done of you to realize she doesn’t care for flirting, Everett.” She patted his arm. “Very well done indeed.”

With his arm feeling rather warm where she’d patted him, and his heart feeling rather warm from her compliment, Everett reached the buggy and helped Millie into her seat before doing the same with Lucetta. Untying the reins, he climbed up on the seat and urged the horse into motion, steering it back on the road and toward the Newport Casino.

Silence settled over the buggy, broken only by the clip-clop
of the horse’s hooves, and before he realized it, the Casino loomed into view.

Millie let out a sigh. “I’m really not looking forward to going back in there again.”

“Why not?” Lucetta asked.

“Did I forget to mention to you that I played a little tennis here the first day we arrived in Newport, and . . . it didn’t exactly go well?”

“You played tennis . . . at the Newport Casino?”

“I did.”

“With Everett, I hope?”

“No, with Caroline and her friends, Gertrude and Nora. And I have to say, Nora Niesen is really rather lovely.”

“You played with ladies?”

“I’m not saying it was the brightest thing I’ve ever done, but . . . Caroline annoyed me.”

Lucetta caught Everett’s eye. “If you haven’t figured this out, Millie’s really competitive, and you shouldn’t—as in ever—encourage her to play anything against ladies, unless it’s . . . cards . . . or knitting.”

“I don’t think you can play at knitting,” Millie said. “Besides, I don’t know how to knit.”

Grinning as he pulled the buggy to a stop, Everett handed the reins to the member of the Newport Casino staff who’d come running up to them. Climbing down, he turned and offered a hand to Millie, then to Lucetta, his grin widening when neither lady balked at having him assist them out of the buggy.

“We do know how to behave in public,” Millie whispered before she squared her shoulders, took his arm again, waited for Lucetta to the take the other, and then began moving forward.

Unfortunately, the closer they got to the Casino, the more Lucetta seemed to be dragging her feet.

“Is something the matter?” he asked when they ended up barely moving because she’d almost come to a complete stop.

Lucetta looked at the Casino and shrugged. “You know, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stroll in there on your arm. Perhaps I’ll just wander around to the back and take in the sights, or maybe I should just go back to the buggy.”

Everett tilted his head. “You’re not worried that I don’t want to be seen with you here, are you?”

Lucetta let out a huff. “Really, Everett, I was trying to give you a discreet way
out
of being seen with me, one that would allow you to retain your gentlemanliness, and . . . here you went and ruined it.”

“Am I really that shallow?”

When Lucetta and Millie exchanged a rather telling look, his mouth went slack. “You think I’m shallow?”

Millie patted his arm again. “You’re a gentleman of society, Everett. You’re bound to be a little . . . Well, I wouldn’t say you’re
shallow
, not exactly, but you are a bit of a snob, something I do think I’ve pointed out before. Having said that, Lucetta and I both know you’re not used to being seen in public with ladies like . . . us.”

Tightening his grip on their arms, Everett prodded them forward. “There’s nothing wrong with either one of you, and just so you know . . . I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I might very well be a snob, but I’m trying to work on that.”

Not giving the ladies an opportunity to balk, Everett increased his pace, practically dragging them beside him as he moved through the door and into the entranceway. Glancing around, his temper began to simmer when he realized that every guest was sending him covert glances, even as they pretended they hadn’t noticed him.

His temper went from simmering to boiling in a split second.

Their behavior was completely unacceptable, but . . . how many times had he witnessed his friends giving people they considered undesirable the cut direct? How many times had he witnessed abuses directed at domestics working in different houses, yet never once objected to that abuse, at least not aloud?

“We really don’t have time for you to make some sort of a stand, something the expression on your face seems to suggest you’re contemplating,” Lucetta said, amusement lacing her words. “But if you’re determined to make some sort of spectacular stand at a later date, I could see if we can find you a small part in my play. That would show them.”

“I’m not finding the attention, and all that goes with that, humorous at the moment.”

“But if you can’t find humor in this,” Millie whispered, “it’ll simply make you mad. You don’t have the luxury to allow your temper to get away with you, so ignore the slights. I always do.”

That Millie and Lucetta were so matter of fact about the clear snubs they were receiving sent additional temper, mixed with shame, straight through him.

It truly was deplorable, the behavior of the people he’d always considered good company. Millie and Lucetta were both kind, intelligent, and remarkable ladies, but because they didn’t possess the right social status, they were ostracized, and that—

“Mr. Mulberry, how delightful to see you again.”

Shifting his attention from a circle of fashionably dressed young ladies who’d taken to tittering behind their hands, Everett settled it on an anxious-looking gentleman, a gentleman Everett thought might be one of the managers of the Casino.

“Ah, Mr . . .”

“Mr. Bancroft,” Millie finished for him as he struggled for the manager’s name. “It’s me, Miss Longfellow. I don’t know if you remember or not, but we met over a week ago, when I
was here to play tennis. You found me a spare racquet.” She beamed at the man.

“Ah, well, yes, of course I remember you, Miss Longfellow,” Mr. Bancroft said, looking just a little pained. “How could I forget a lady who knocked another lady right off her feet?”

To Everett’s surprise, Millie sent Mr. Bancroft a wink. “Bet that had everyone talking for a good long time.”

“Oh, they haven’t finished quite yet.” Mr. Bancroft turned back to Everett. “What may I help you with this afternoon?”

“We’d like a table for three in the dining room,” Everett heard come out of his mouth as Millie and Lucetta gaped at him.

Mr. Bancroft began to turn red as he lifted his hand and tugged on his tie. “I’m afraid the dining room is full at the moment, Mr. Mulberry, but I do have a nice, private room that might suit you better.”

“We’ll wait for a table to open up.”

“Honestly, Everett, stop being difficult,” Lucetta muttered before she breezed past him and smiled at Mr. Bancroft right before a throaty laugh escaped her lips. “Don’t mind Mr. Mulberry, my dear Mr. Bancroft. We’re not here to dine but to speak with a Mr. Victor. He’s newly arrived in Newport, but we’ve been told he might be here at the moment.” Her smile widened as she batted long lashes Mr. Bancroft’s way.

“He’s in a private room, dining with his wife,” Mr. Bancroft said in a voice that was barely audible. “Would you like me to show you to him?”

“That would be kind of you.”

Before Everett could badger the manager further—something he really wanted to do, just as he really wanted to sit down and order a five-course meal in the middle of the dining room with Millie and Lucetta—he found himself trailing after the ladies as every guest turned their way.

Knocking once on a closed door, Mr. Bancroft opened it and stuck his head in. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Victor, but Mr. Mulberry would like to speak with you. May I tell him you’re available?”

Everett didn’t hear the response, but since Mr. Bancroft opened the door fully and stepped aside, he assumed Mr. Victor had agreed to see him. Moving into the private dining room, he stopped and took a moment to consider the gentleman now rising from the table and staring back at him.

He was younger than Everett had expected, no older than midthirties, and he was polished and incredibly well dressed, with every dark hair on his head perfectly in place and his tie tied to perfection. Everett glanced to the left and found an elegant lady sitting at the table, her hair coiffed in an elaborate fashion, one that had certainly been coiffed by a servant, and wearing a stunning day dress cut in the latest style, designed by Worth, if he wasn’t much mistaken.

A million questions crowded his brain, but he forced a smile and moved forward to shake the hand Mr. Victor was now extending him.

“Mr. Victor, I’m Mr. Everett Mulberry.”

Mr. Victor squeezed Everett’s hand a little harder than was strictly necessary, and then released it, nodding to the lady sitting at the table. “My wife, Mrs. Victor.”

Everett walked over to Mrs. Victor and took her hand, kissing it properly before he nodded to Millie and Lucetta, who were standing right inside the doorway. “My friends, Miss Longfellow and Miss Plum.”

Not taking his attention away from Everett, Mr. Victor simply waved a hand in their direction, that action causing Everett’s hands to clench.

“The captain of the
Adoring Violet
told us we could find
you here,” Everett finally said when Mr. Victor didn’t bother to speak.

“He should have told you I was intending to come to your cottage after my wife and I dined.”

“He did tell us that, but I found I didn’t care to delay our meeting. I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you, Mr. Victor, ever since Fred and his wife died, in fact.” Everett frowned. “Why is it that no one could locate you?”

Mr. Victor shrugged. “Fred sent me to far-off places, with no set schedule. Believe me, if I’d gotten wind of Fred’s accident, we’d have returned to the States posthaste.” He narrowed his eyes on Everett. “However, I’m here now, so I suppose we might as well get on with things.”

“We certainly do need to get on with
things
as you put it, especially matters concerning Fred’s estate.”

Taking a step toward Everett, Mr. Victor’s eyes began to glitter. “Matters of Fred’s estate don’t concern you at all, Mr. Mulberry, and you should know that I’m here for one reason and one reason only.”

“And that reason would be?” Everett asked slowly.

“To fetch the children home, of course.”

For a second, Everett thought he’d misheard the man, but only for a second. Stepping closer to Mr. Victor, Everett forced a smile. “I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a disappointment, then, because the only way you’re going to do any fetching of Fred’s children is over my dead body.”

15

S
trangely enough, when I imagined finally being given the opportunity to enjoy a lovely glass of lemonade at the Newport Casino, I never pictured myself enjoying that refreshment from the midst of a storage room,” Millie said to no one in particular before she took a sip of tepid lemonade and glanced around.

Everett was sitting in a hardback chair, a wet rag covering his entire face, while Mr. Duncan Victor slouched down in a chair similar to the one Everett was sitting in, wiping his nose with another wet rag. Both gentlemen had one of their hands tied to those chairs, and both gentlemen had yet to speak a single word to each other, even though they’d been held in the storage room for a good ten minutes while management waited for the authorities to arrive.

“It’s unfortunate Lucetta and Mrs. Victor aren’t here to enjoy such delightful surroundings,” Millie continued, her words drawing a grunt from Mr. Victor.

“My wife had the good sense to dive under the table when fists began flying,” he said. “As for Miss Plum . . . Well, the only
reason she’s not here is because she batted those lovely eyes of hers at the staff, even though I told them that the plate she was holding in her hand was aimed directly at me.” He lifted his head and sent a look filled with disgust at Everett, one Everett missed since his entire face was still covered. “I’m remarkably confused as to what an actress was doing accompanying you, Mr. Mulberry. Although given that I’ve come to the conclusion you’re nothing more than a dirty scoundrel . . . I probably shouldn’t be all that confused.”

Setting the glass of lemonade aside, Millie rose to her feet, grateful she, at least, had not been tied to a chair. “If there’s any scoundrel in this room, sir, it’s obviously you. In fact, if you ask me, the only possible explanation behind you throwing the first punch at Everett was to divest guilt from yourself.”

“Divert,” Everett muttered through the cloth covering his face.

“Exactly right,
divert guilt
is what I meant to say.” Millie took a step toward Mr. Victor, stopping immediately when a rather large member of the Newport Casino staff folded beefy arms over his chest and shook his head at her.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she told the man, earning a huff of clear disbelief from Mr. Victor in the process.

“You broke my nose,” Mr. Victor snapped. “Which really does beg the question of why you’ve been allowed in the same room with me.” He narrowed an eye on her that was rapidly turning an interesting shade of black. “It is never permissible for a lady to punch a gentleman, not proper in the least. Although . . . given that you seem to be acquainted with Miss Plum as well, you’re obviously not a proper sort of lady.”