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Arabella went up the stairs, listening to the murmur of their conversation and the clink of kettle and teacups. She had never felt more conscious of the fact that this wastheirhouse andtheirtea andtheirmoment. Expecting the birth of their child, increasing their family.
Arabella lived here, but it wasn’t her life that was being lived here. She was a support for her brother’s life.
She brushed her hair and drew on a cotton chemise, and her jumbled thoughts cleared.
She wanted her own life. Not simply a change in location, though she still craved her independence and a cottage by the shore. But she wanted more moments like the ones she shared tonight with Caroline, doing dishes and taking care of things for family.
And yes—more kissing.
Like a real relationship.
Like the marriage that she always said she didn’t want.
But maybe it wasn’t marriage with amanthat she wanted.
Oh, but this was outside the realm of her wildest fantasies. In her dreams there had only been kissing. But a proper relationship, two women being in love together and setting up house—well, it was out of the question. Even for her, as lost in daydreams as she often was.
Pure nonsense.
She touched her fingers to her lips, which throbbed at the thought of the kiss.
Or was it?
Chapter Five
The Inverley assembly rooms were open three evenings a week during the summer months for dancing. In the mornings and afternoons, it offered cards for the gentlemen and tea for the ladies and was one of the most popular places in town due to its fine views of the beach.
It was considered terribly romantic during the evenings to walk the terrace that circled the building and listen to the ocean. Fanciful ladies swore they could feel the very mist of the sea on their faces as they strolled, but Caroline knew it was to disguise the glow of perspiration from their exertions—dancing, or otherwise.
They didn’t have anything new to wear—Betsy and Susan hadn’t been able to wait that long, begging Caroline to go dancing from the very day that Mr. Taylor had arrived to tell them of their good fortune. Not one week had gone by, but Caroline had grown so tired of their whining that she had acquiesced.
Besides, it had always bothered Caroline that she had never been able to provide a night of dancing at the assembly when she knew how much they had always wanted to go. The attendance fee had always been outside their means.
The people dancing tonight should be people who knew them. Surely their neighbors would not look down on their faded muslins or turn up their nose at the sight of a patch or two. It was still a week or more before a stream of fashionable visitors would start to descend upon Inverley, so they should be safe from the worst of sneers.
“Behave,” she warned her sisters. “I mean it.”
They were too old for a governess, and too wild to be trusted with a companion—even the most dragon-faced matron would despair of the pair.
Mr. Singh, the master of ceremonies, was standing inside the door. He was a tall dapper man of middling age who had moved to Inverley from India fifteen years ago. He called upon all new visitors who wished to visit the assembly to ascertain whether or not they were respectable enough to join the dancing, and he took it as a matter of personal pride that the assemblies were well-attended and that not a single set lacked sufficient partners to make a merry round of it. He was beloved by the townsfolk.
“Good evening, Miss Reeve. Miss Susan. Miss Betsy.” He nodded at each of them. “Are you passing by on a fine evening stroll?”
Caroline swallowed. “We were hoping to join you in this fine establishment to dance tonight, Mr. Singh.”
Betsy jangled her reticule. “We have more than enough coin to purchase an evening of pleasure, I do assure you.”
Caroline wished nothing more than for the cobblestones to part and for her to sink right through them. She had thought that their recent turn of fortune would be enough to assure them entry everywhere, but the look on his face told her all she needed to know. Not even their new bank balance had rendered the Reeves good enough to mingle with socially.
She felt even worse at the sympathy that shone from Mr. Singh’s kind eyes. “I regret to inform you that the rooms are full tonight.”
Caroline knew it for the rejection that it was, and she was grateful that no one saw them as they were turned away. The rooms weren’t full. They never were at this time of year.
As they walked back down the street toward home, the girls complaining mightily, she turned back to see Mr. Singh wave another couple inside.
Shame tasted bitter in her throat.
If she was meant to be the head of this family, she was doing a terrible job. Her parents had trusted her to shepherd her siblings through life, and she couldn’t even give them the smallest of opportunities to mingle among people of their new station.
