A Rose for Laura by Callie Hutton

17

Laura leaned her elbow on the window casing in her bedchamber and looked unseeingly at the glass and sighed. She awaited the arrival of Mrs. Prendergast, who was to be her chaperone for the evening. It was silly, she'd told Papa many times, for her to require a chaperone.

She was considered on the shelf, she had freedom to work at the club, to attend events with Keniel, and shop in the afternoons with only a maid. She took herself to the orphanage and her suffragette meetings. But for some ridiculous reason, Papa insisted on a chaperone when she attended ton events without an escort.

Not that she particularly wanted to attend the Barringers’ rout. The women she'd made her come-out with had all found husbands over the past few years. She was delighted for them, but marriage for her had to be with someone she loved and who loved her back.

Keniel

She sighed again. The man was stubborn about the differences in their status. These were the very things the suffragettes were fighting for. To stop all the class business and allow women the freedom to choose the important things in their lives. To not depend on men to make decisions for them as if they were children.

A light tap on the door drew her attention from her self-pity. "Yes?"

Sophia entered the room. "Miss Benson, Mrs. Prendergast has arrived. She awaits you in her carriage."

"Thank you, Sophia." She gathered her fan and reticule and made her way to the entrance hall where Carlson stood holding her cape. Papa had gone to one of his clubs for the evening, so with no one to bid good night, she left and held Carlson's arm as they descended the steps and he assisted her into the carriage.

"Good evening, Miss Benson. Don't you look lovely." Mrs. Prendergast was a charming woman, and if Laura was destined to have a chaperone, Mrs. Prendergast was acceptable. What Papa didn't know was after the first set, the woman hied off to the card room where she spent the rest of the evening, leaving Laura on her own.

"Thank you, Mrs. Prendergast. You look quite lovely yourself." Well into her fifth decade, her chaperone still maintained a youthful countenance. Her wardrobe kept up with the latest fashions, which enhanced the beauty that still remained.

Happily widowed, she loved attending these events and was pleased to act as semi-chaperone to Laura. Mrs. Prendergast had confided in her at one point that she didn't think a chaperone was necessary, but since her papa insisted on one, she was more than happy to accommodate him.

Laura had often thought Papa might take an interest in the woman, but he remained stubbornly single and enjoyed his life precisely as it was. Since Mrs. Prendergast stated quite adamantly that she loved being a widow, Papa's disinterest in the woman made no difference.

Laura, on the other hand, would like to have a husband. And children. As long as that husband didn't treat her like a child. And loved her. And she loved him. She didn't think that was too much to ask for. Her married friends had opted for arranged marriages, and while they did seem content, if not ecstatically happy, she'd noticed a few of them had begun to eye a few of the gentlemen at balls and dinners.

She gazed out the window as the carriage made its way through the throng of traffic, mostly carriages transporting Society members to various events.

"You seem a little pensive this evening, Miss Benson." Her chaperone regarded her with a slight frown.

"Perhaps a bit. Yes. Maybe more than a bit, actually." She shifted in her seat and faced the woman. "Don't you find yourself ever tired of all the balls, routs, soirees, and other events night after night?"

Mrs. Prendergast shook her head. "Not at all. I thoroughly enjoy my social life. But then, I didn't enjoy my married life, so that may have something to do with it."

"I don’t mean to be bold, but may I ask if yours was an arranged marriage?"

"Yes. And no." She gazed into space as she spoke. "I was madly in love with Mr. Prendergast. He was a businessman, very wealthy and quite handsome."

"Did he return your favor?"

"I thought so at the time. However, I mentioned his name to my father and, anxious to see me settled—he'd recently remarried at the time to a woman who didn't like sharing the house with me--he immediately made the arrangements for us to marry." She shrugged. "I wish I had given our courtship more time, but Mr. Prendergast insisted on a quick wedding."

As much as Laura wanted to prod the woman, she waited to see if she would add to her story.

After a minute or so, she said, "He was a philanderer. Apparently, I was not the only woman who'd been madly in love with him." She glanced at Laura before continuing. "I know I should not speak of these things to an unmarried woman, but since you asked. . ."

"Yes?"

"He brought women home to our house; set them up in a bedchamber only a few doors down from mine." She shook her head. "It was humiliating."

Laura sucked in a deep breath. What a horrible man to subject his wife to such treatment! She reached out and touched Mrs. Prendergast's hand. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

She smiled. "I've made peace with myself over it now. In the beginning I thought there was something lacking in me that drove him to other women. A very smart older woman disavowed me of that idea.

"Truth be known, I had a hard time holding to a year-long mourning for the scoundrel. But now I am free to do as I wish. My father provided a substantial dowry that Mr. Prendergast made sufficient use of, but when Papa died, he left all his money and holdings to me in my own name. I think he knew things were not as they should be with my husband."

The rest of the ride continued in silence, both women occupied with their own thoughts.

Laura's were tied up with her non-courtship. She did not have to be world-wise to know Keniel wanted her. His kisses proved that, but he was reluctant to take the relationship further because of their differences.

From what she'd witnessed so far, he would make an exceptional husband. Hard-working, caring, generous, helpful—the list could go on, but the biggest reason was she knew their feelings for each other had grown, and that was what she wanted in a marriage.

But how to convince Keniel that, despite whatever issues he imagined, they belonged together?

* * *

Keniel leanedhis shoulders against the wall, his arms crossed, as he surveyed the gaming floor. At one time, just being in the building was exciting. The sound of the players, the activity, the occasional shouts of delight and groans of sorrow, all made up his evenings and he loved it.

Now that he was buying in to the partnership with his brothers, it meant even more. Their profit was now his profit.

But recently, the thrill was no longer there. Oh, he enjoyed how his security had improved with becoming a partner and having his own house. Things that at one time would have had him crowing like a proud rooster. It still felt good, but there was something missing, and he knew what it was and refused to think about it. Except he could think about nothing else.

"How are things looking?" Hunt walked up to him and stood watching the gaming floor, his feet spread apart, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Good. Very good, actually. Numbers are up."

Hunt nodded. "Then why do you look as if you've lost your best friend?"

Because I need to do just that and can't bring myself to do it.

Except Laura was so much more than a best friend.

"No reason." He moved to walk away, but Hunt grabbed him by the arm. "Come, let's have a drink."

Keniel raised his brows. "I'm working."

Hunt grinned. "I'm the boss and I say it's all right."

"And I'm the boss too, and I say it is not all right." He didn't mean his words to come out so clipped, but he knew what Hunt wanted to talk about and it was not a subject he cared to discuss. He had to work things out in his own brain before he could speak about it with anyone else.

"All right. Then upstairs. We'll make our drinks coffee."

With no way to get out of it, Keniel shrugged and followed his brother across the floor and up the stairs to the dining room. They passed the office door. Driscoll was bent over his desk, mumbling to himself as he worked.

"How's the baby?" Keniel asked.

The grin on Driscoll's face when he looked up took Keniel aback. Such pride and joy were almost tangible. "Wonderful. Amelia and I are convinced Timothy Richard David Rose is the smartest boy ever."

Keniel looked at Hunt. "Isn't the child a mere two weeks old?"

Hunt laughed and nodded. "Yes. Can you imagine by the time he can actually talk and walk?"

"They'll be signing him up for university."

Driscoll leaned back in his chair, tapping his pencil on the desk. "I'm serious. He already knows Amelia's voice. His head turns toward her every time she talks."

"Um, brother, I hate to throw a cold bucket of reality in your face, but the baby heard Amelia's voice for months before he was born," Hunt said.

Driscoll just stared at him for a moment. "It doesn't matter. He's still the smartest baby in London."

"Now you know I can't agree with you because Diana will lock me out of our bedroom if I do. She believes our child is the smartest ever."

Keniel rolled his eyes. "Can we stop this dominance for offspring superiority?" He tapped Hunt on his arm. "Are we heading to the dining room or not? I have work to do downstairs."

Hunt saluted Driscoll and turned and followed Keniel.

Once they were settled with coffee in front of them, Hunt said, "You might deny it, but your head hasn't been where it should be lately."

Keniel stiffened. "Are you suggesting I've fallen down on the job?"

"Don't get your feathers in a ruffle. I meant no such thing. What I mean is you need to move along with Laura, or close that chapter of your life."

Just the thought of 'closing that chapter' was enough to drive all of Keniel's blood to his face with rage. "First, whatever there is, or is not, between Miss Benson and myself is no one's concern. Just because you're the big brother—and I've been warned already by the others—doesn't mean you can meddle in my life."

To his absolute horror, Hunt burst out laughing. "It's that serious, then?"

Keniel deflated like a child's balloon that had been pricked with a pin. "Yes. It is. Or no, it isn't. I don't know." He took a sip of his coffee and made a face. It had been sitting too long. He pushed it away and leaned back in his chair, draping his arm over the back. "You're not ignorant, Hunt. You know what we would face if Laura and I decided to actually court."

"What I know is that how the two of you handle it would make all the difference in the world. Will there be snide remarks and some shunning? Probably. But remember those who would do that were not friends to begin with, and frankly, who cares what they think?"

It wasn't what they thought that had him tied in knots. Well, yes, maybe that was so, but how comfortable would Laura be on his arm in most circumstances?

"Give it a try," Hunt said, almost as if Keniel had spoken those words out loud.

"What?"

"Didn't you tell me you were taking Laura to the theater Friday?"

Keniel nodded.

"You've already been to a soiree with her, and the dinner at my house. I don't remember anyone planting you a facer. Enjoy each other's company. Have fun. Laugh. Don't worry about what comes next. Maybe nothing." He stood and rested his hand on Keniel's shoulder. "Or maybe the best thing that will ever happen in your life."

Those words playedover in Keniel's mind as he hurried up the steps to Laura's townhouse. The butler that Laura had informed him was called Carlson, opened the door and nodded. "Good evening, Mr. Singh. If you follow me into the front parlor, I will let Miss Benson know you have arrived."

Although he knew his way to the front parlor, nevertheless he followed the butler into the comfortable room with print-covered chairs and settees. Gas lamps lit the room, casting shadows on the walls. Heavy dark green velvet drapes on the three floor-to-ceiling windows shut out the dark night.

He checked his timepiece and noted they had some time before they needed to leave. He helped himself to a brandy and walked to the fireplace, resting his elbow on the mantel.

"Here you are," Mr. Benson said as he entered the room, rubbing his hands together. "I wondered where they put you." He eyed Keniel's hand. "I see you've made yourself a drink. Good, good." He hurried to the sideboard and spoke over his shoulder. "I'll join you. My daughter should be down shortly."

Once they were settled on facing chairs, Mr. Benson held up his glass. "Here's to an enjoyable evening." He took a sip of his drink. "Where are you off to tonight?"

Keniel always enjoyed Mr. Benson's company. The man was friendly, open, and enthusiastic. "The St. James theater. We're seeing Oscar Wilde's Lady Windermere's Fan."

"Good. Good. I never cared for Wilde's works myself, but then everyone else seems to like them." Another sip. "I understand Laura's been working in a gaming club."

Uh, oh. She had finished her time as a bookkeeper, but perhaps Mr. Benson hadn't approved. "Well, sir, she was helping us out at the club, but my brother has returned to his duties and Laura's assistance—while greatly appreciated—is no longer needed."

Bloody hell. He was grateful that Laura didn't walk in during that statement. No woman wanted to hear she is not needed. He took a large swallow of his drink.

"Good. Good. I didn't care for her working there, but as usual with my daughter, she tends to do what she wants."

They chatted about politics, traffic, the weather, all the usual things Englishmen discussed while trying to pass the time.

About fifteen minutes after Mr. Benson had joined him, Laura entered the room. Both men stood. Luckily, Keniel had placed his glass on the table in front of him before he stood because he would have likely dropped the tumbler.

Laura looked stunning. Even if she wore nothing but a sack, she would be beautiful, but her deep rose gown with matching hat took his breath away. Her smile lit up her face and the entire room.

Speechless for a moment, he finally found his voice. "Good evening, Miss Benson. You look spectacular."

"You look quite nice yourself, Mr. Singh." She gave him a slight dip and regarded him with her head tilted.

"I don't care for a drink, so we can leave now if you are ready." She pulled on her gloves as she spoke.

"Yes. I'm finished." He moved to where she stood and extended his arm.

Laura turned to her father. "Good night, Papa."

He saluted her with his glass. "Good night, daughter."

As they made their way to the carriage, Hunt's words played over and over in his mind.

Or maybe the best thing that will ever happen in your life.