An Unlikely Suitor by Nancy Moser

Author:Nancy Moser
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

Rowena dunked her spoon into the shrimp bisque but took to her mouth little more than a coating.

She wasn’t hungry, and worse than that, she didn’t want to be there.

At least it wasn’t a large dinner party, just a few of her parents’ friends, and none of her own age, so she didn’t have to pay that much attention to the banter. Which was a good thing considering her mood.

Which was . . . ?

She dunked the spoon a second time in the soup, lifted it out of its drowning, then dunked it again. Memories of the painting fiasco dogged her thoughts.

Fiasco?

It was far too strong a word. She’d had the notion to expose Lucy to art. It wasn’t Lucy’s fault she possessed a natural talent for painting. It served Rowena right for being condescending about it. See the rich girl enlightening the poor seamstress as to the finer things in life.

See the seamstress outshine the rich girl, which serves her right for being so patronizing.

Rowena fidgeted in her chair, gaining a look of warning from Mother. She gave up on the soup, setting her spoon down.

“Not hungry, my dear?” Mother asked.

“Not much.” She added, “But it’s delicious as usual.”

“Where is your Edward?” Mrs. Garmin asked.

My Edward? And actually, she wasn’t sure why Edward had sent his last-minute regrets. She hadn’t seen him all day and had looked forward to his company at dinner. But late afternoon, he’d sent a note giving his regrets and saying he would stop by the house tomorrow. And they were going to the musicale at a neighbor’s home the coming weekend . . .

A musicale. Another place where Rowena would be faced with talents she didn’t possess.

Mrs. Wetmore set down her own spoon and audibly took a breath, her face beaming with obvious anticipation. “I have it on highest authority that Alice Vanderbilt is altering the format of her upcoming housewarming and coming-out party for her Gertrude, and turning it into a costume ball. Isn’t that marvelous?”

The look on Mother’s face showed otherwise. “And how are we to come up with costumes in two weeks?”

Mr. Wetmore leaned forward. “I would guess the short notice is so Alice will have the best costume, one that was designed and made months ago.”

There was a grumbling ascension among the men, and a mumbling resignation among the women. It was just like Alice to create a way for herself to be the queen of the ball. Two years ago she’d been costumed as “Electric Light” at her sister-in-law’s ball in New York.

“The Vanderbilts’ new home, the Breakers . . . not a piece of wood used in the construction,” Mr. Berwind said. He shook a finger to make a point. “They are not going to lose this house to fire like the last one.”

“I hear its very Old World,” Mr. Langdon said.

“Well, I think it’s ridiculous,” Mr. Havemeyer said. “I mean what style is it, anyway? Italianate or French or—?”

“Vanderbiltian,” Mr. Langdon said.

Amid the soft laughter, Mrs. Garmin set her spoon down with a clatter.

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