dress should have detracted from her beauty. It was plain and loose fitting, so different from the current ladies’ fashions. Most women of his class were wearing bright satins and taffetas decorated with cords of ribbon and yards of lace.
But Rosalind looked as fresh and quietly pretty as many of the women of his acquaintance. Of course, the beauty he was thinking about wasn’t the result of fine textiles and ingenious design. Instead, it radiated from within.
This was not the first time he’d thought about her—or his attraction to her, he realized—since first meeting her at Sloane House. He’d found himself thinking of her at odd times and in odd places. He’d be speaking to one of the women at his church and he would notice the fine dusting of freckles on her nose . . . just like Rosalind’s. Or he’doverhear a person’s voice on the streets, the way they lengthened their vowels, and he would think they sounded like Rosalind.
He wasn’t sure what his preoccupation with her or his need to help discover what happened to her sister meant. All he knew was that there was a voice inside him that proclaimed she was important. Perhaps it was his conscience?
Maybe it was God, gently reminding him to do good works?
“Armstrong? I say, Armstrong, is that you?”
Startled from his musings, Reid turned in surprise. Almost as quickly, he attempted to hide his dismay. It was Eric Newhouse, one of his classmates from Lawrenceville, but unlike Douglass Sloane, Reid felt no sense of obligation or gratitude toward the man.
“Hello, Eric,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’ve been on the continent. Doing my tour before I settle into the family business.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately, it only lasted a year. You know how that goes, though.”
Reid actually did not know, but there was no reason to share that. Eric had been born into almost as prominent a family as Douglass had. Reid, who had not, was instead his parents’ calling card into high society.
“It’s been several years since we matriculated. Have you stayed here in Chicago this whole time?”
“I have. I’m running my father’s business with him.” Reid was pleased he could say the words without even flinching. When was he ever going to come to terms with his father’s failing health?
He tensed, half waiting for Eric to ask him about his father’s state of being. Most everyone knew he had tuberculosis and was ailing. In addition, many feared that Reid Armstrong would never be the man his father was—and weren’t shy about saying so. Many did not know he had now also started his own business.
But instead of going that route, Eric simply looked him over like he was an unusual specimen. “Ah, yes. I had heard that you chose to go right to work.” Eric’s voice had turned cool. “Well, it seems to have done you no harm. Your success has been creating quite a stir in some circles. Congratulations on your success.”
“Thank you. I have much to be thankful for. I feel blessed beyond measure.”
The words, so honestly stated, drew an obviously uncomfortable breath from Eric.
He fidgeted a bit, and even went so far as to take a step backward, giving them each some distance from the other. “So, I’m on my way to see Sloane. I imagine you are doing the same. You two always were thick as thieves,” he added languidly. “Are you leaving or about to enter?”
“As a matter of fact, I have just taken my leave.” Reid decided Eric could discover for himself that Douglass wasn’t receiving visitors.
“It’s lucky that our timing coincided. We seem to have missed each other at some of the debutante balls.”
“Yes. It’s been good to catch up.”
Eric glanced at Sloane House. “It is, however, unlucky for me that I arrived just as your tête-à-tête with that fetching girl finished.” His voice lowered, becoming oily. “I would have liked to have made that one’s acquaintance.”
Only living for years in a
But Rosalind looked as fresh and quietly pretty as many of the women of his acquaintance. Of course, the beauty he was thinking about wasn’t the result of fine textiles and ingenious design. Instead, it radiated from within.
This was not the first time he’d thought about her—or his attraction to her, he realized—since first meeting her at Sloane House. He’d found himself thinking of her at odd times and in odd places. He’d be speaking to one of the women at his church and he would notice the fine dusting of freckles on her nose . . . just like Rosalind’s. Or he’doverhear a person’s voice on the streets, the way they lengthened their vowels, and he would think they sounded like Rosalind.
He wasn’t sure what his preoccupation with her or his need to help discover what happened to her sister meant. All he knew was that there was a voice inside him that proclaimed she was important. Perhaps it was his conscience?
Maybe it was God, gently reminding him to do good works?
“Armstrong? I say, Armstrong, is that you?”
Startled from his musings, Reid turned in surprise. Almost as quickly, he attempted to hide his dismay. It was Eric Newhouse, one of his classmates from Lawrenceville, but unlike Douglass Sloane, Reid felt no sense of obligation or gratitude toward the man.
“Hello, Eric,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’ve been on the continent. Doing my tour before I settle into the family business.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately, it only lasted a year. You know how that goes, though.”
Reid actually did not know, but there was no reason to share that. Eric had been born into almost as prominent a family as Douglass had. Reid, who had not, was instead his parents’ calling card into high society.
“It’s been several years since we matriculated. Have you stayed here in Chicago this whole time?”
“I have. I’m running my father’s business with him.” Reid was pleased he could say the words without even flinching. When was he ever going to come to terms with his father’s failing health?
He tensed, half waiting for Eric to ask him about his father’s state of being. Most everyone knew he had tuberculosis and was ailing. In addition, many feared that Reid Armstrong would never be the man his father was—and weren’t shy about saying so. Many did not know he had now also started his own business.
But instead of going that route, Eric simply looked him over like he was an unusual specimen. “Ah, yes. I had heard that you chose to go right to work.” Eric’s voice had turned cool. “Well, it seems to have done you no harm. Your success has been creating quite a stir in some circles. Congratulations on your success.”
“Thank you. I have much to be thankful for. I feel blessed beyond measure.”
The words, so honestly stated, drew an obviously uncomfortable breath from Eric.
He fidgeted a bit, and even went so far as to take a step backward, giving them each some distance from the other. “So, I’m on my way to see Sloane. I imagine you are doing the same. You two always were thick as thieves,” he added languidly. “Are you leaving or about to enter?”
“As a matter of fact, I have just taken my leave.” Reid decided Eric could discover for himself that Douglass wasn’t receiving visitors.
“It’s lucky that our timing coincided. We seem to have missed each other at some of the debutante balls.”
“Yes. It’s been good to catch up.”
Eric glanced at Sloane House. “It is, however, unlucky for me that I arrived just as your tête-à-tête with that fetching girl finished.” His voice lowered, becoming oily. “I would have liked to have made that one’s acquaintance.”
Only living for years in a
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