Page 15 of The Gods Time Forgot
Fifteen
After Mara had unceremoniously awakened her earlier that morning to let her know she was attending a lady’s luncheon later that day, Rua arrived with Flossie at Delmonico’s exactly on time.
The glamorous restaurant was located in Union Square near the Academy of Music. Flossie was frenetic. Her ascension to society would not be complete until she dined at Delmonico’s for dinner after enjoying the opera from a box, but today she would settle for lunch. One more rung up the ladder.
They walked upstairs to a richly decorated room with a dozen or so white-clothed tables with place cards. Three-tiered porcelain serving trays had been placed at the center of each table, bearing varying sandwiches and pastries. At least sixty different women, none Rua could recognize, were gathered around the tables, mingling with each other.
She couldn’t tell one scowling face from the next, except for the Fitzgeralds, of course.
“Say hello to our host, Mrs. Stevens,” Flossie whispered.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Stevens,” Rua said.
Mrs. Stevens gave her a curt smile and turned to Flossie.
“Flossie, I’m so glad you mentioned the luncheon last night, and I do apologize. Your invitations must have gotten lost in the post.”
“Think nothing of it,” Flossie said, oblivious to the obvious or too desperate to care that she had been deliberately left off the list.
Mrs. Stevens moved on to the next guest. The Stevenses, according to Flossie, could trace their lineage in New York back to the Dutch settlers. In other words, they wanted nothing to do with the Harringtons or anyone else who made their money through trade.
Rua hadn’t realized how important the Stevenses were. Up until now, the fuss had been made about the Fitzgeralds. Perhaps she should consider Lily’s invitation.
“Come, let us find our table,” Flossie said to Rua. Flossie walked to the front of the room, weaving in and out of all the tables, looking for theirs.
Rua noticed Mrs. Stevens and Mrs. Fitzgerald snicker and exchange glances in the corner while Flossie searched.
Eventually, Flossie figured it out. Their table was right by the door.
“Unacceptable.” Flossie’s nostrils flared. “I’m going to find out why we’re seated in the back like lepers.”
Rua considered telling Flossie that she was seated exactly where they wanted her to be, but she didn’t think she would listen.
“Why don’t you go and find Annette?” Flossie suggested senselessly.
Rua ignored her, unsure of what fairy world Flossie inhabited where she thought she and Annette were on speaking terms. She sat down and stared into the throng of women gathered around the head tables. The tables that Flossie was coveting.
“I see you made it after all.” Lily sat quietly beside Rua, her back straight as a rod. Rua adjusted herself, trying to do the same.
“We did,” Rua said, not bothering to mask her displeasure.
Lily smiled. “I understand how difficult these events can be.”
“Especially when you weren’t invited in the first place,” Rua added, though she doubted Lily had any idea of what someone like Rua was dealing with.
“You’re very forward,” Lily laughed. “It’s refreshing.”
“I’m glad someone appreciates it,” she said, and took a sip of the lemonade placed in front of her. She hoped Lily wouldn’t bring up the social club again. Ignoring her offers was growing awkward.
“No one here besides me, I can assure you,” Lily said as she stood.
Surprised, Rua laughed. Lily was charming and sociable; her mother must be so proud.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you have to say at our next meeting.” Lily winked and seamlessly joined the rest of the women at the front. Her secret society of strong-minded women sounded too good to be true.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do. This is where we’re sitting.” Flossie huffed as she found her way back to Rua. “I saw you talking to Lily Stevens. What did you say to her?”
“Nothing,” Rua said, bothered by the insinuation that she couldn’t engage in small talk.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Banal platitudes.” Rua shrugged and sipped her watery lemonade.
“It’s one thing to shrug at home, but in public, I will not stand for it,” Flossie muttered.
No one else joined them at their table for the remainder of the luncheon, and for that, Flossie blamed Rua. Flossie would not entertain the notion that the Harringtons were simply not supposed to attend and the other women had added a table at the last minute only because Flossie was rude enough to ask for one.
Despite their seclusion, news of Finn and Annette’s courtship managed to reach their ears. A stunning success; a proposal was imminent.
It soured both their moods.
“The lord’s having dinner with us this evening. I tell you, it’s about time. To think, we open our home to him, and I can’t get him to sit down for one meal. What is the point of having a lord in the house? At any rate, this will likely be your last chance to impress him and make him reconsider,” Flossie said.
“Reconsider what?” Rua asked.
“His courtship with Annette. With all the time they’re spending together, I assume we truly are but an announcement away.”
“I don’t see how I’ll make him reconsider anything.” She couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken. Days? Was it weeks?
“For whatever reason, his lordship’s taken some kind of an interest in you. Perhaps he doesn’t even understand it himself, but we must use it to our advantage before it wanes.”
The fact that Flossie thought Finn’s interest was nothing more than morbid curiosity was sobering.
Rua knew Finn wasn’t interested in her. Despite living in the same home, he’d done nothing in the last week to indicate he even knew she was there. But she would do what Flossie wanted, if only to buy herself more time. Because if Mara was right and she couldn’t go into the hellmouth until Samhain, she had a few more weeks left of pretending to be Emma, and she’d prefer not to do it from the inside of a sanitarium.
“Now, let us leave. We’ve endured this disrespect long enough.”
They said goodbye to no one and made their way to the carriage.
“I am utterly disgusted. The Stevenses might be New York royalty, but we’ve more money than that room combined. That should be enough. Perhaps it’s your presence that has embittered them. You will sit out the next ladies’ event, and we’ll see how I fare.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Rua said as they pulled up to the Harringtons’ enormous home. Flossie would never consider that she simply wasn’t well liked and her new money was unwelcome.
Mrs. Smith rushed to Flossie the moment she walked through the front doors. The conversation seemed tense as Flossie rattled off a list of demands.
Mara met Rua at the bottom of the staircase. “He’s here,” she whispered feverishly. “The Lord of Donore. He arrived only a few moments ago.” Finn had made himself so scarce over the last few days that it was a shock to them all. Like finding a rare bird among the trees.
Rua tried not to be affected, but a wave of nervous flutters washed over her. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to change.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
“He’s all but announced his engagement to Annette Fitzgerald.” And it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t Emma. This wasn’t her life, and she didn’t need to make things any more complicated by forcing a man into the picture.
“But he hasn’t announced it, and he escorted you out of dinner. That has to count for something.”
“Over a week ago,” she reminded Mara, “and it counts for nothing. He assured Annette’s father that he wanted nothing to do with me, and he is proving just that.” Irritated, Rua marched up the stairs.
“Don’t take too long to change,” Flossie called after her. “Dinner will be served promptly at five.”
Rua let out a sigh. She would have to suffer a mortifying dinner with a man who didn’t want her, all so that she might convince Flossie she shouldn’t be sent away.
Finn shuffled around his new bedchamber, trying to get settled. But he knew Rua had returned, and he was anything but.
He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t explain it, but he wanted to see her.
He always wanted to see her.
There was a knock at his door. Part of him hoped it was her.
“Good evening, my lord.”
Disappointed, Finn opened the door for the butler. “Dinner has been moved up to five this evening.”
Mrs. Harrington had been trying to get him to agree to dinner, and up until yesterday, he’d been able to avoid it. Between events, he’d been taking his meals at the club and spending his evenings volunteering at the orphanage. Every day there were more and more displaced children in need of safe housing.
But last night she’d caught him coming in the door, and he’d had no choice but to agree. Now he was having second thoughts.
“I am afraid that does not suit. I’ve had a change of plans.”
“Very well, my lord.” The butler looked deflated.
Finn forced down the guilt as he lied to the butler. He had no other set plans, but he could not sit down for an intimate meal with Rua. Just like Mrs. Harrington, he knew that the more time he spent around Rua, the more he might like her. A truth he was trying to escape.
Tomorrow, he was going to officially ask Richard for Annette’s hand. The decision had been made. His life needed contentment and routine, and neither of those things would be found with Rua.
He grabbed his coat and rushed out the door. He made his way toward the back staircase frequented by the servants so that he might avoid an awkward run-in with Mrs. Harrington, or worse, Rua.
When she was around, his thoughts were muddled, his heart beat wildly, and he was reminded of things he didn’t even know he’d forgotten.
He had almost kissed her the night he moved in, proof that he couldn’t trust himself around her, and why he stayed away.
He flew down the first set of empty stairs, but as he rounded the banister to make his way down the second, he stopped short.
Coming up the stairs was Rua wearing a lovely pink gown. Her head was down; she hadn’t noticed him yet.
He contemplated turning right around and running back up, but he was glued to the spot.
When she finally looked up, her eyes widened, her mouth making the shape of an O. There were only a half dozen steps between them. She hesitated, her gloveless hand gripping the railing. No more than him, she looked as though she might have preferred to run the other way.
“Good evening,” he managed to say.
“Hello, Finn,” she said with a smile.
He loved that she had no qualms about using his given name.
She looked him over, noticing his hat and coat.
“Something has come up. I’ll not be able to make it to dinner,” he said, the lie scratching at his throat.
Her face fell, disappointment overtaking her smile. He hated it.
“But of course, my lord,” she said, continuing up the steps. The sweet smell of meadowsweet hit him as she moved and lingered long after she left. His favorite smell. It reminded him of home.
He almost went after her. Almost found Mrs. Harrington and told her that he was able to attend dinner after all, but he didn’t. His survival instincts were too strong, and Rua would be the death of him.
Finn left the Harrington house and made the long walk to Castle Garden. It took hours, but what else did he have to do?
By the time he’d reached the Battery, night had fallen. He could see the glow from the Castle Garden dome above the Rotunda, where, below, hundreds of immigrants spilled out through the gates despite the late hour.
After disembarking from their ships, those who arrived at Castle Garden entered the Rotunda. It was loud and frenzied and overwhelming for someone on their best day, never mind someone who had just spent weeks traveling to a foreign land.
Inside, they were separated between English speakers and non-English speakers and able to find all the corresponding offices to help with their arrival. Once they were registered, they collected their luggage, visited the currency exchange, and were checked at the hospital. Those looking for work went to the labor exchange. Others who already had plans and family waiting for them could wait inside the Rotunda until their families came or they left through the gates into Battery Park.
Unsuspecting new arrivals were often taken advantage of or left to fend for themselves. This was where Finn had met Sister Mary and the other nuns at St. Brigid’s. They’d come down frequently and offer assistance to any and all who needed it.
Finn spent hours directing families, giving them the names of reputable housing and people they could contact for work.
When he returned to the Harrington household, it was after ten. Dinner would be long over. The sting of Rua’s disappointment rearing its ugly head, he poured himself a drink and had the valet prepare him a bath before bed.
Sleep evaded him as thoughts of Rua spun round and round. In and out of consciousness, his mind conjured delightful images of them lying in the grass, her head on his chest, while he stroked her wild hair. Then they were dancing, spinning around the ballroom, while the room clapped and cheered.
In another dream, there was nothing but darkness and an ache burrowed so deep in his chest that he sat up gasping for air. The pain was so real, the betrayal so raw, he couldn’t shake the feeling it was real.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, knowing her absence meant only one thing.
She looked at him, eyes wild. There was a battle waging within them, the gold overtaking the green as she tried to control it.
Disappointment flared. He had so hoped she could control it, hoped she could choose him.
She grabbed his shirt with exorbitant strength and pulled him toward her.
He searched her face, desperate to find her, but the rise and fall of her chest gave her demons away.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, her head pressed against his.
He soaked her in, memorizing her. “Whatever may come”—he breathed the words into her mouth—“know that I love you.”
Her response was visceral as their lips crashed together. In a silent plea, she clung to his neck. But tear-dampened eyelashes and a hungry kiss betrayed the truth she would not share.
They were not going to make it.
Hurried and hopeless, they fell to the grass.
He wrapped his arm behind her back, pulling her closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a broken whisper.
Lost in the sadness, he said nothing.
Face-to-face they lay until they could wait no longer. She rolled onto her back and pulled him above her. He obliged her readily, kissing and teasing until there was no part of her left unexplored.
She took her pleasure and gifted him his.
A fleeting moment of ecstasy laid waste by her choices.
He rose from the bed, pulled on his pants, and threw a shirt over his head.
He sat down again, devastated and confused. He’d had a dream of Rua. Was that Rua? He rubbed his hand up and down his face.
It felt like Rua, or it felt like what he imagined she would feel like. Christ. He shook his head.
It was only a dream, he reminded himself. None of it real.
He shut his eyes, remembering the details, finding himself wishing they were true.
He couldn’t stay another minute in his room, so he went to the library.