Secrets of Sloane House(82)

“And that is?”

“If Douglass Sloane merely pursues women and ruins their reputations, if Rosalind’s sister was one of them, what happened to her? Did she run away in shame? Or did someone else have a hand in her disappearance?”

“Only the good Lord knows.”

“I do believe that it’s time people discovered the truth too,” she said grimly.





CHAPTER 29

After leaving Eloisa’s, Reid dismissed his driver and took the new elevated train to the entrance of the fair. He needed to get away, to think. Think about Eloisa, his duty toward his family, and his curious regard for Rosalind.

Something needed to change. He felt a new sense of urgency that he couldn’t seem to shake. He didn’t know if it was because of Rosalind, the new pressure he felt to marry well, or if it was a by-product of the disintegration of his relationship with Douglass.

After paying his entrance fee, he walked through the gates and mixed with the throng. The crowds had thinned considerably since the fair had first begun. And though there were still many fine ladies and gentlemen promenading, there seemed to be a greater number of men and women from the lower classes enjoying the sights. Their tailored suits and dresses were just a little bit shabbier, their grooming needing an extra bit of care.

As he looked at the white buildings, Reid realized the crowd had much in common with the buildings. Most of the people were looking like faint replicas of the shining statues positioned all around them.

He’d heard rumors that the buildings hadn’t been built for posterity. Instead, the architects and builders had built glorious façades, covering plain buildings encompassing priceless artifacts. To his way of thinking, it felt fitting.

That was the way of it, he decided. People were born bare and helpless, relying on others for everything from comfort and love to happiness and esteem. Little by little, each person became more independent. Relationships were formed, not on kinship, but on mutual interests.

A new, hard veneer was formed, along with the proper way of speaking and clothing appropriate to their place in society. Some of the changes happened organically, without much thinking or planning. They just happened.

Some men inherited their fathers’ businesses or adopted their trades. Some inherited the family’s land or home. They continued on, in much the same path of their forefathers.

But not for men like him. No, for the Armstrongs, and most specifically for Reid Armstrong, little in life was left to chance. Instead, each step forward was contemplated carefully. Pros and cons and alternative paths were studied with great care and then put into action with the deliberative force of a general planning his battles.

Accents and fashion were studied. Schools and governesses and tutors were paid for. Dressers and valets, diets and polish. Acquaintances nurtured, friendships fostered.

And any failure to prosper was considered a flaw. A mistake. Something that needed to be rectified as soon as possible.

But of course, all of it could be stripped away with the loss of money or the loss of stature. Making an enemy of a former friend could do that too. And then, if a man wasn’t careful, he could find the beautiful covering that he’d paid for with time and money and effort and fear slowly crumbling away. Leaving him to be the man he’d always dreaded being.

Reid sat on one of the benches, realizing that he was the White City. He had been as bright and perfect as money and careful planning had been able to buy. However, at the end of the day, his true colors were showing through the cracks in his marble façade.

Over the last few weeks, since he’d met Rosalind and had become interested in something besides his worth or acceptance in society, he’d discovered himself.

Of course, the Lord had much to do with that. He’d been the one who had encouraged Reid to continue to be involved with his church, even when it wasn’t the thing to do. The Lord had kept putting him and Rosalind in each other’s path. And the Lord had also given him the ability to see Rosalind for herself.

He’d begun to see beyond her stunning looks and social status. He’d begun to think of her as a whole, unique person. A child of God. And during that time Reid had realized she was important to him.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next. Would he ever be able to help Rosalind enough for her to discover what had really happened to her sister? Were his puny efforts ever going to be enough?

He sincerely hoped so.

“Guvnor, you need something to eat?” A young man about twelve years of age gazed at him hopefully. Behind him was a row of thick pretzels. Suddenly nothing had ever looked so good.

Reid got to his feet. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll have one of those pretzels.”