Gwendolyn’s lips twitched. “I was wondering why you kept telling him so much about me, but yes, you should abandon any future urges to dabble in matchmaking, as shall I. Frankly, I’m more than ready to put this chapter of my life behind me.”
“Our next chapter should include Scotland,” Catriona suggested. “I’ve always wanted to have a pint in a pub and look at gentlemen in kilts.”
Gwendolyn took hold of Catriona’s hand. “We’re not going to Scotland. We’ve already discussed this. Our days of traveling the world have come to an end. It’s past time you stop running and take the rest of the summer to contemplate what you’d really like to do with your life. And even though my days as an assistant matchmaker are over, I’m going to give one last piece of matchmaker advice. I think you should consider marrying again. You’re still young, and . . . I haven’t neglected to notice you seem to appreciate Frank Lambert’s company.”
To Gwendolyn’s surprise, temper flashed through Catriona’s eyes. “While I won’t deny I may have, every so often, found myself enjoying Frank’s company, that’s no longer the case.”
“Why not?”
“Because he—just before I was about to go out to sing, and before the children made an announcement that disbanded the ball—had the audacity to ask me if I would speak on his behalf to a few of the ladies in attendance last night. He thought they would find him more attractive, even with his being new money, if a worldly woman like myself mentioned, in a way that seemed natural to the conversation, how compelling I found him.”
“He didn’t.”
“He did,” Catriona said. “Needless to say, I gave him a piece of my mind, although I never got to finish telling him everything I wanted to say because . . . well, you know, the disaster occurred.” She sighed. “If you ask me, gentlemen can sometimes be more trouble than they’re worth.”
“You always told me Barnabas was trouble, but you adored him.”
“I think he was the exception.”
“Perhaps he was at that,” Gwendolyn admitted before she gave Catriona’s arm a rub. “But it’s not doing either of us any good bemoaning our sad state right now, because we’re beginning to turn rather morose.”
Catriona caught Gwendolyn’s eye. “I have a feeling your morose state isn’t going to disappear anytime soon. I know you were beginning to develop feelings for Walter, and ones of the affectionate sort.”
Gwendolyn released a sigh. “You noticed that?”
“We’ve spent years together, darling. Of course I noticed, and I’ve also developed a theory regarding the true reason behind your decision to abandon our travels.”
“A theory?”
“Indeed, and I hope you won’t be annoyed by this, but I’m beginning to believe the unconventional life you’ve always claimed you want to embrace, isn’t the life you’re meant to live after all.”
“What do you mean?”
Catriona smiled. “You’re a woman who is most content when you’re around children. Yes, you do possess a bit of wanderlust, and yes, you enjoyed our travels to a certain extent. But even though being an independent woman is something you’ve always placed great stock in, I believe your true role in life is a conventional one—that being a wife and mother.”
“That’s about as traditional as a woman can get.”
Catriona gave Gwendolyn’s hand a pat. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Your mother, even though she was quite like you in her younger days and wanted to pursue a less traditional feminine role, realized after meeting your father that what she truly longed for in life was a husband and children. I think you’re exactly like her and will only find true contentment after you discover the man of your dreams and settle down to have your own family with him. That’s why I can’t help but wonder what you would have done, or what you’d do, if Walter came to his senses and realized you’re the match for him.”
“I’m not the match for him,” Gwendolyn argued. “Walter is a member of the New York Four Hundred, and there are unspoken rules he’s committed to following, such as marrying a lady of his social status. And while you may not be off the mark with your theory that what I really want is to take on a conventional role of wife and mother, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me a few weeks ago—that bit about knowing I want what my parents have—a deep and abiding love that will last for the rest of my days. You were right about that, which means Walter is not my match, because he doesn’t love me.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not, because while I’m sure Walter appreciates that his children adore me, he’s not like my father. He won’t set aside convention to marry a woman outside the Four Hundred. And even on the chance he would, if I’ve learned nothing else over this summer, I know I don’t belong in society. It’s too petty and there are too many intrigues. Plus, even though some ladies have abandoned some of their underhanded antics, you know that won’t last. Securing an advantageous marriage in society is a high-stakes game, which means ladies will continue to backstab one another while settling smiles on all the gentlemen, acting quite as if they don’t have a backstabbing bone in their bodies.
“It’s simply not a world I want to inhabit, but Walter is a Knickerbocker. He won’t turn his back on society, nor do I believe he’ll cut back on the time he spends with his many business interests to be an attentive husband like my father is to my mother.”
“Walter cut back on his business to spend more of the summer in Newport,” Catriona pointed out.
“True, but that’s only because he realized it would be impossible for me to find him a match if he wasn’t in town more often.”
Catriona rose to her feet and moved to a window that faced the front of the house, opening it to let a light breeze swirl into the room. “But what if you’re wrong and Walter actually holds you in great esteem? Shouldn’t you at least afford him an audience before you leave Newport to hear if he has anything of worth to say to you?”
“I think I’ve suffered enough humiliation. As I said, we’ll stop by Sea Haven to say good-bye to the children before we leave, and if I encounter Walter, I’ll be civil but won’t engage in a lengthy conversation with him. We’ll then make a discreet exit from Newport because I have no desire to speak with any society members who might be out and about.”
Catriona moved aside the curtain, her gaze settling on something outside. “And isn’t that unfortunate, because there is an entire parade of carriages making their way up the drive. Given the splendid horses pulling those conveyances, I think society has decided to pay you a call.”
Gwendolyn strode to Catriona’s side, narrowing her eyes on well-equipped carriages pulled by prime horseflesh trundling up the gravel drive. The elaborate hats some of the ladies were wearing in open buggies obscured their identities, but clearly Catriona was right—the social set had come to call.
“You’ll have to tell them I’m not here,” Gwendolyn said, twitching the curtain back into place.