Masquerade (51 page)

“No.” Then she added, “Not yet.”

“Oh.”

She was surprised by his look of distress. Why would he care if she was successful at the Tremaines’ or—?

Lottie looked down at the baby. “I see you’ve grown attached to Fitz.”

His face softened as his gaze fell upon the boy. “I have. He’s a fighter, that one is. A survivor. He smiles at me.”

“Of course he does.”

Sven opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again. “But you think wrongly, Miss Hathaway, about my reasons for being interested in your success at the Tremaines’.”

“Oh?”

“I …” He began to pace, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to tell you a falsehood, but when you assumed … I should have righted the misconception at once, but your interest and abilities were a little unnerving and—”

He certainly had her interest. “What
are
you taking about?”

He returned to his place behind the chair. “I’m not married. I don’t have a wife.”

Lottie was glad she was sitting down. “But you—”

“I said I was good with children and you assumed I meant
my
children. And I … I let you continue the assumption.”

She tried to remember the first conversation where his marital status had come up, but couldn’t recall who’d said what. There begged a larger question. “But why didn’t you set me straight?”

Even by the firelight she could see his blush. “This may sound conceited, but I could tell you were interested in me—as a man. I haven’t had that much experience with women, Miss Hathaway, and your skill—”

She didn’t like the way he was making it sound. “I haven’t had that much experience with men, either, Mr. Svensson. I assure you—”

“No, no. I meant no offense against your character or reputation, I only meant to say that you were so at ease talking with me, teasing me, being charming.”

“Flirtation is a talent finely honed in high society. I was only doing what I was brought up to do. I didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

“I know, and I should have reacted differently. But when you left me …” He came around the chair and sat upon it, leaning toward her with his arms resting upon his legs. “I have feelings for you, Miss Hathaway. And the thought of losing you forever … I haven’t taken a single photo since you left.” He sighed. “I need you.”

Lottie laughed. “So you didn’t replace me?”

“You have no replacement. And …” He paused. “My need goes far beyond my work.
I
need you. Me. Sven.”

His eyes were so sincere, his face so open and hopeful.

Lottie was disconcerted. She looked to Fitz to hide her confusion. Sven had feelings for her? And Fitz? Images of the three of them being a family elicited an overwhelming sense of warmth, security, constancy, and togetherness.

He suddenly sat back. “I’m sorry. I’ve spoken when I should have remained silent. You don’t belong in this world, but to another. I have little to offer you.” He began to rise.

She rose too and reached for his hand. “I’m glad you spoke as you did. It’s just so new… . It changes everything.”

“Does it?”

She hesitated. She wouldn’t lead him on. “Perhaps.”

He nodded. “But may I say one thing more before I leave you to think?”

“Of course.”

“No one is the same person they started out to be. That’s the way of life. We are supposed to change—for the better. You didn’t plan to be here, but here you are, different from whom you sought to be. Yet … I don’t care whether your name is Hathaway or Gleason. What I wish is for your name to be Svensson.”

A laugh escaped. “Is that a proposal, sir?”

Sven gathered his coat and hat. “Which person will you become?

It’s your choice.”

She’d always wanted the chance to choose for herself. Yet now, to be offered
this
choice was daunting.

He moved to the door. “I’ll give you the time you need. For I too have changed because of you and Fitz.” He returned to them and put a hand upon Fitz’s head. “I am sincere, Miss Hathaway. I speak what’s on my heart.”

He kissed the baby’s head, and then … Lottie’s cheek.

She heard his footsteps recede down the hall and the door tap shut.

Within moments Nanny returned.

“So?” she asked.

“What should I do?”

Nanny put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “The right thing.” She took Fitz from her arms. “I’ll put the babe to bed and be up on the roof if you need me.”

“The roof?”

Nanny nodded toward the stairs. “If you need me.”

The last guest left.

Mr. Tremaine turned to his family and sighed. “Quite successful, I think.” He looked to his wife. “Don’t you agree?”

Mrs. Tremaine shrugged. “I did grow tired of Mrs. Vanderbilt going on and on about wanting to marry Consuelo off to some titled European. How gauche.”

The two of them moved toward the staircase as if the three young people left behind didn’t exist.

Beatrice turned to follow. “Good night. You did fine, Charlotte. Really.”

Charlotte was surprised by Beatrice’s … civility. Were they finally friends? “Thank you, Beatrice,” she said. Then she called after the elder Tremaines, who were ascending the stairs. “And thank
you
for the lovely party.”

Mr. Tremaine didn’t turn around but acknowledged her gratitude with a raised hand. All in a day’s work.

Charlotte touched Conrad’s arm. “I wish to thank you too. You helped me through every snare.”

“I should have warned you that this set tends to sneer rather than smile, at least until they get to know you.”

“And accept me.”

He scanned the foyer, then took her hand. “Come with me.”

Charlotte was far too tired for the evening to be extended even shortly, but she had no choice. When Conrad led her into the gallery, her thoughts immediately returned to Lottie and the conversation that had transpired just hours before.

I want to call the whole thing off. I want to be myself again.

Once in the room, Conrad swung her away, then toward him under his arm, as if they were dancing. His face was positively giddy. Had the evening pleased him that much?

He ended the figure by drawing her toward himself. When he stopped, his giddiness faded. In its place was an earnestness that drew her gaze to his.

Then suddenly he dropped to one knee.

A proposal? A proposal!

Before she had time to think further, he began. “Miss Gleason, Charlotte. In the short time we’ve known each other I’ve grown to respect you and care for you very much. I appreciate your unique ability of seeing the truth and telling me your opinions in a way that brings out the best in me. Better than the best, for you have awakened in me ideas and enthusiasm I never knew I owned. In short, dear Charlotte, I’m a better man for knowing you.”

Charlotte only half heard his compliments as she tried to figure out what to do. She cared for him too, but if Lottie was going to go through with her plan to halt the scheme …

Conrad changed from one knee to the next, trying to find comfort on the marble floor. “I didn’t plan on doing this tonight, so I have no ring, but please know this proposal isn’t extended on a whim but is something I’ve intended to do ever since our walk in Central Park. Did you enjoy that walk as much as I did?”

This question she could answer. “I did enjoy it. Immensely.” It had also been a turning point for her, as it had been the first time she’d seen Conrad as a true friend—with the possibility of being more than a friend.

Conrad bit his lip, then said the words, “Will you marry me, Charlotte Gleason?”

But I’m not Charlotte Gleason and—

“Will you?”

A tiny voice in her head niggled at her like a fly demanding attention.
Say yes and you will fully claim the position of Charlotte Gleason.If you don’t do it, Lottie will.

So she said it.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

With a moan and groan, and with her assistance, Conrad rose from his knees. Once upright, he awkwardly put a hand on her arm and leaned forward to kiss her.

She kissed him back. Just one short kiss. A seal to their pact.

And it was done. She was engaged. Charlotte Gleason was engaged.

But what of Dora Connors?

The right thing. Nanny told me to do the right thing.

Which was?

Lottie sat in the chair by the fireplace. The fire was just embers now, and despite the time elapsed, she had no answer.

When a log gave way to a weaker one beneath, she started … and remembered Nanny’s offer. “
I’ll be up on the roof if you need me.”

Lottie sat upright, gripping the arms of the chair. Certainly too much time had passed for Nanny to still be there, yet she had to try. Nanny was the wisest person she knew. She’d been stupid to try to figure out this predicament on her own.

Lottie lit a lamp and climbed the stairs of the foundling home to a landing that led to many bedrooms. Around again, up another flight to more rooms with more closed doors. Yet in the dim light of the lamp she noticed one small door ajar.

She opened it and saw a steep narrow stair. This must be the way.

Lottie held her skirts high to negotiate the steps and at the top found another door ajar. All she had to do was push it open.

And there was the roof, a flat space nearly as large as the footprint of the house, dotted with chimneys and stacks. Lottie walked carefully to the edge and peered down at the street four stories below. It made her dizzy, so she took a step back and looked out upon the city. The moon was the only brightness in this dark place. Rooftops lay before her like stepping-stones above an abyss. In the moonlight she could see laundry strung from chimney to chimney, furniture scattered about, the occasional glow of a lamp. Did people sleep on their roofs?

The night was chilly and she wished she’d brought a shawl.

“Here,” came a voice from behind her. “Put this on or you’ll catch your death.” Nanny came out of the shadows, a shawl covering her own head and shoulders. “I thought you’d never come.”

Lottie gratefully took the extra shawl and wrapped it close. “I’m sorry. I tried to figure it out on my own, but then I realized I needed to turn to you.”

Nanny shook her head. “Not me, dear girl.” Then she pointed skyward.

Ah. Yes. God.

Lottie lowered her head, ashamed. “Why do I forget?”

“People with everything given to them often do. Only when it’s taken away do you realize He’s all you’ve got. All you need.”

Nanny led her to the other side of the roof, where two chairs had been placed. They sat and both turned their eyes to the moon.

Lottie remembered her time on the
Etruria
when she’d found comfort in the moon that shone over home, and sea, and now here. “The inconstant moon,” she murmured.

Nanny shook her head. “Not inconstant at all. It’s always there, a faithful witness in the sky.”

“Witness to my confusion?”

“What confuses you?”

Lottie was taken aback. “What
doesn’t
confuse me? I come to America and end up in this awful place.”

“This awful place gave you Fitzwilliam and brought you to me.”

Oh. Yes. But. “But I should never have given up my position.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my birthright.”

Nanny shrugged. “This is America, Lottie. Anyone can achieve anything with hard work. The people who own the positions of high society in New York scraped and earned their way there. It’s up to their children to earn
their
way, to find their own way. Just as it’s up to you to earn and find your own way.”

“But I don’t know the way.”

“Of course you do.”

Lottie sat forward, shaking her head. “But I don’t. A part of me wants to go back to the Tremaines’ and tell the truth. Wouldn’t God approve of that?”

“You don’t want to go there for truth’s sake but for your own.”

She sat back. “I know the life there. I understand it. I belong there.”

“What about Fitz?”

“I’ll take him with me. That’s why I want to marry Conrad now, to provide a good home for my baby.”

Nanny shook her head. “We’ve been through this before. I think you’re dreaming if you think they’ll welcome you and a strange baby into their household.”