Secrets of Sloane House(8)

He’d watched them practically shun women for wearing outmoded dresses or socializing at the wrong homes. And the men weren’t much better. However, it was from this very group his father ached for acceptance for their family. And since his mother constantly ached for her husband’s praise and approval, she continually strived to win the society matrons’ regard.

He gently squeezed her shoulders, thinking that though elegantly encased in copper taffeta, they looked a little frail. “Who did stop by?”

“Eloisa Carstairs, briefly. It’s lovely that she visits, though her mother seems reluctant to do so.”

“Eloisa has told me that her mother is determined she make a good match. We might not be quite high enough in the instep for Mrs. Carstairs.”

His mother smiled softly. “You may be right about that.” Smoothing a wrinkle from her sleeve, she added, “However, Millicent Arnold and her daughter, Louise, came calling. Millicent is a member of the women’s temperance society, you know.”

“I do know.” She’d also been one of the few who’d made an effort to befriend his mother.

“Louise mentioned that she is very glad that you joined the choir.”

Reid felt his cheeks heat. “I see.” He liked to sing. Unfortunately, his baritone had been discovered during one especially rousing church service. Soon after, he’d been pressed into the choir.

Though it definitely was not the most masculine of pursuits, it did have its benefits. The bulk of the choir members were available young ladies—some of them in the upper classes, like Louise Arnold—each one eager and amiable to his regard. His parents had made no secret that they hoped he would form an alliance with a woman who was both of his social stature and a Christian.

Smiling sweetly, his mother leaned forward. “Have you made Louise’s acquaintance?”

He had. He also had not been impressed with the young lady’s mousy demeanor or gossipy nature. “I’ve noticed a great many women there.”

She leaned forward. “Yes?”

“But no one in particular yet.”

“Oh.”

Reid hid a smile as Penny, his mother’s parlor maid, brought in a heavily laden silver tray with fresh tea and buttered scones. Before his mother could offer, he helped himself to the bounty.

Oh, he did love to tease his mother about the many available ladies she pushed his way, especially from their church. But the fact was, so far no one had interested him—not even the lovely Eloisa Carstairs—even though he’d been doing his best to keep an open mind.

His mother casually pulled out a bit of embroidery while he ate two scones. When he’d set aside his napkin, she picked up her needle and spoke again. “So you visited the Sloane home today?”

“Yes. I saw both Veronica and Douglass.”

“And did you have an enjoyable time?”

“Enjoyable enough, I suppose.” His relationship with Douglass Sloane was complicated. Reid knew he owed him a great deal. Douglass had stuck his neck out for him when Reid had been blamed for vandalism during his first term at Lawrenceville.

Reid had been innocent, of course. But he’d been new and a relative nobody. The headmaster and the other boys had been more than happy to let him take the blame and get expelled. Seeing that he was an easy mark, they began to pull pranks on him. Some rather harmless. Others? They’d been far more painful and difficult to ignore.

Each day had become a trial and a difficult journey to get through. He’d become miserable and withdrawn and had considered dropping out of the school. It would have been a serious blow to his father, but Reid had begun to think that it was either quit or descend into an even greater hell.

When a few of the boys had made up the story about him destroying property, Reid had had enough. He’d been formulating a letter to his father to explain his reasons for departure when Douglass had stepped in and given him an alibi.

Douglass had told a heap of lies, of course. In actuality, Reid had not been with Douglass during the time the vandals had broken into the groundskeeper’s cottage. But no one ever would dare cross a Sloane, and one would definitely never call Douglass a liar. Not when the library and the dining hall were named after his revered ancestors.

As Douglass had assured him would happen, the alibi had been accepted without question. The dean of students had apologized profusely.

And from that point on, his life had become better. All the hazing stopped. Boys sought him out at mealtime. Invited him to parties and their older sisters’ coming outs.

The difference in his social standing had been remarkable, and it was all due to Douglass Sloane. His family’s reputation was that influential.