Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The music from the string quartet drifted through the trees and Ginger fingered her champagne flute with gloved hands.
Guests strolled over the lawn, enjoying the perfect weather.
Small groups formed clusters throughout the grass—the groundskeeper would grumble to see all the pits from the women’s heels come morning.
When she’d been younger, Ginger had watched the women in their beautiful dresses from the windows of the house, wishing to join them on the lawn. The garden parties then had seemed like a wonderful adventure—romantic, too. A chance to smile at a handsome young man, to feel the thrill of love.
Her own experiences had been quite different.
“It won’t be long before parties like this are but a memory,” a familiar woman’s voice said behind her, breaking into her thoughts.
Ginger’s mouth opened. Her friend, Charlotte Thompson, stood there, a picture of grace.
A lace parasol rested against her shoulder.
The last big event Ginger had attended before coming home from London had been Charlotte and Robert’s wedding.
“What are you doing here?” Ginger hugged her.
“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon. ”
“Yes, well,” Charlotte pushed a perfect dark curl behind her ear, “Robert decided it was too dangerous for us to continue abroad. And we were having the most wonderful tour of France.”
They weren’t the only ones caught by terrible timing for their trips. A few ladies Ginger had talked to this afternoon had mentioned their ruined holidays. Ginger gripped her arm. “And where is your groom?”
Charlotte shrugged and toyed with the single strand of pearls around her neck. “Heaven knows. Probably chumming it with your brother. If he can lure Henry away from Angelica Fisher. Henry looks absolutely besotted with her, by the way.”
Did it bother Charlotte to see Henry moving on?
Ginger couldn’t tell from Charlotte’s expression.
But, then again, she’d chosen Robert over Henry.
And she’d been a radiant bride. “Henry is easily besotted.” Ginger sipped her champagne.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re here.
I’ve been hiding from Henry and his friends and it’s been quite lonely. ”
“You mean you’ve been hiding from Stephen.” Charlotte smirked. “Aren’t you hoping for a double wedding? You with Stephen. Henry with Angelica.” She guffawed softly. “The whole thing seems incestuous.”
Ginger’s cheeks warmed. Only Charlotte seemed to understand her dislike of Stephen. “Oh, Charlotte—what on earth am I to do? The man refuses to leave me alone.”
A footman paused in front of them with cucumber sandwiches on a silver platter. They declined. “You could tell him no.” Charlotte adjusted her parasol. “You don’t want to marry him.”
If only it were so easy. Then again, Charlotte had been away when Stephen had proposed.
She didn’t know what had happened when she’d told Stephen no.
“I did. But my father has made his expectations clear. Forced me to tell him I needed a month to consider his proposal. And it’s not as though I have other offers coming my way. ”
Marriage was her destiny. The only adventure to liven up her routine-choked life. Or so she’d been told. And if they didn’t settle her situation soon, people would call her an old maid.
Another footman came by with champagne, which Charlotte accepted. She twirled the stem in her fingertips and the light bouncing through it threw reflections on the grass. “Because Stephen has frightened all other potential suitors away.”
Irritation pricked her throat. Charlotte wasn’t exaggerating.
All the young men in her circle assumed she was Stephen’s intended, both from his possessiveness and his attentiveness.
Given his status and wealth, few would dare to cross him.
“If those potential suitors aren’t willing to stand up to Stephen, I’m uncertain they’d interest me. ”
Charlotte frowned. “What you need to do is make a secret attachment elsewhere. Outside all the usual circles of our friends.” She scanned the lawn. “Now who can we fix you up with?”
A secret attachment? Ginger couldn’t think of anything more unlikely.
“Ginny, Henry was asking for you—” Lucy came scrambling up. Her stylish hat sat smartly over her braided dark brown hair. She stopped by Charlotte. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine.” Ginger smiled at her sister. She remembered being fourteen years old at garden parties. Old enough to feel she should be part of the conversation, young enough to feel she still belonged in the nursery. “Lucy, you remember my friend Charlotte?”
“How do you do?” Lucy curtsied. She inspected Charlotte’s elegant attire briefly before turning her gaze to Ginger. “Henry said it was important.”
Ginger exchanged a glance with Charlotte, an uneasy feeling coming over her. “I suppose if it’s important.”
Charlotte smiled at Ginger encouragingly. “I’ll go with you.”
Lucy adjusted her hat. “What do you think of my frock? Will Angelica like it? Is it as fancy as hers? She won’t mind me bothering her. I haven’t seen her all summer and I’m eager to hear all about her debut ball.”
Ginger remembered when the girls she’d gone to finishing school with had debuted before her, she’d felt a similar hesitation in knowing if their friendship would survive their new status as an adult.
Ginger had never paid too much attention to Angelica, as she’d always considered her one of Lucy’s friends.
After Angelica’s debut this year and Henry’s sudden attachment to her, she’d become part of Ginger’s circle, rather than Lucy’s.
Not that Ginger found much to say to the quiet Fisher girl.
What she lacked in personality, she more than made up for in looks, though, and her debut had been a smashing success.
“I’m sure Angelica would be glad to see you, Lucy. She’ll likely welcome the break from Henry and his cabal,” Ginger said. The three women crossed the lawn toward a tent, Lucy leading the way.
As they drew closer, Ginger caught sight of Stephen Fisher, who simpered at Henry’s side.
Henry and Stephen’s friendship went back to infancy.
If she refused Stephen, she didn’t want to be the source of a rift between the two.
Given that Stephen had made his intentions with Ginger known, her refusal would wound his pride in a manner he would consider publicly humiliating.
Stephen wore a hat over his straw-colored hair, the flat brim shading his eyes.
Ginger couldn’t tell if he’d seen her yet.
Into the lion’s den. She restrained the urge to hold her breath.
If only Stephen wasn’t well-liked, it would be so much easier to explain to everyone.
Yet he was charming and affable, respected, and handsome.
Maybe she was being foolish.
But where her family seemed to find his attentions to her romantic, the way he looked at and touched her repulsed her. She shivered and pushed her feelings deep down.
“Ah, there’s my darling sister.” Henry stood from his seat at a round table, where some of his friends were gathered. He grinned at Ginger and then gave a quick wink to Lucy. “And you, too, Lucy.”
Lucy’s cheeks reddened. But she wouldn’t dare retort in front of their guests.
Angelica sat beside Henry. “Angelica. My mother was inquiring about you. Lucy can take you to her,” Ginger said. Hopefully, Lucy would have the time she sought with her friend.
Lucy gave Ginger a grateful look as Angelica stood.
The willowy blonde held out an arm for Lucy and they left, whispering together.
Ginger slid into the seat Angelica had vacated, still avoiding Stephen’s gaze.
She practically felt the weight of his stare.
Charlotte rejoined her husband’s side after greeting Henry.
Much as it had stung Henry when Charlotte had chosen Robert over him, Charlotte was right—Henry didn’t seem nearly as bothered about it now that Angelica had become the object of his affections.
“I’m glad you hurried over.” Henry lifted a teacup to his lips.
“I was telling the fellows of the Martins and it so happens Stephen may know someone who can help.”
Ginger cringed inwardly. She wished Henry wouldn’t have said anything to his friends. Especially not Stephen. Stephen sat across from her and her face flushed. “How wonderful.” She smiled at Stephen. “I’d be so grateful for your help. Poor Mrs. Martin is devastated.”
Stephen reclined back in his chair. “Of course, you realize the Aliens Restriction Act passed unanimously. You aren’t likely to find too many sympathetic to the Germans now.”
The weight of additional eyes and ears weighed on their conversation.
Ginger wished her champagne glass wasn’t empty—it made it so much easier to act calm when she had some object in which to direct her nervous energy.
How like Stephen to insert his authoritative, smug attitude into everything.
“I’m not sympathetic to the Germans. Only the Martins.
Mr. Martin has been here for years. His wife is English.
It seems to me a travesty to arrest him and his son for the crime of having been born in another country. ”
“A country with which we are currently at war,” Stephen countered. A few of Henry’s friends nodded and murmured in agreement. “The papers have been warning of spies in our midst for the last couple of years.”
“But Mr. Martin isn’t a spy.” Ginger’s anger grew. She pleaded to Henry with a look. He could silence Stephen’s attempts to embarrass her this way.
“How do you know?” Stephen shrugged. “I’d venture to say there are many who are sympathetic to the Germans, right under your nose. What does a German spy look like? They aren’t very good ones if they wear their allegiance like a button on their lapel.”