“Yes, well.” Thomas looked over his shoulder, as if to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “That situation we discussed is quite urgent—”
“You remember my wife?” Harrison’s voice was cold and brittle, a lash of reprimand.
Thomas winced and bowed in Maddie’s direction. “Of course. Mrs. Archer, how nice to see you.”
“Mr. Archer.”
She’d never liked Harrison’s brother. He was spoiled and supercilious. When they were younger, Thomas had purposely teased Harrison to elicit a reaction—one that invariably landed Harrison in trouble. It was as if Thomas tried to make himself look better at his brother’s expense.
“We won’t keep you from your errand,” Harrison said to his brother. “Good afternoon.”
“Hold up. When will you come by? We are quite anxious to see you.”
“I am still on my honeymoon, Thomas. I’ll deal with you in my own time.”
“But—”
“Not another word,” Harrison snapped. “Or that situation to which you referred will no longer be my concern.” Without awaiting a response, Harrison practically dragged Maddie away, not that she could blame him. He’d suffered enough at the hands of his family.
“He still thinks you are going to save them.”
“Yes, and his messages are growing desperate.”
“You’re allowing Thomas and your mother to boil in the stew a little longer.”
His lips twisted, his eyes alight with sinister amusement. “Of course. That’s half the fun.”
“How close are you?”
“Close.”
That was cryptic. “What about Thomas’s wife and children?”
Harrison shrugged. “He’ll need to find employment, I suppose, to support them.”
“You have turned very hard-hearted.”
“With everyone but you, Mads. Everyone but you.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Harrison smiled at his wife, though her blindfold prevented her from seeing it. “You’ll see.”
Two days had passed since the ice cream parlor incident, and Maddie remained mostly quiet, subdued, which was entirely out of character for her. He hated that people were gossiping about them, crushing his wife’s spirit and causing her to hide out.
The word is called guilt.
Yes, he felt guilty for what happened at the house party—not that he regretted it. She was his wife, and he’d suffer a thousand scandals to marry her.
Which was easy for him to say, he realized. Society was much harsher on women. She’d suffered these last few days, unused to being an outcast. Harrison, however, had been an outcast almost from the day he was born. Perhaps he could give her some tips.
Regardless, he longed to ease her troubles and rebuild the closeness between them. Staying away from her bed for the past three nights had been absolute torture.
“Let’s go upstairs” is not the answer after you’ve lied to me about almost everything. Do better.
He was trying.
Morning sun warmed his skin as they stepped behind the house. Taking up nearly an entire city block, the sprawling grounds behind the Webster home contained a swimming pool and, of course, a lawn tennis court. This morning, thanks to clever subterfuge on Harrison’s part, Maddie’s tennis coach had canceled their session, claiming he was too ill to leave the house. And when Maddie changed into her tennis clothes, off to practice alone, Harrison had waylaid her with a blindfold.
“Harrison, I really don’t have time for this. Nationals is right around the corner.”
“Patience, Mads. Patience.”
She huffed in annoyance and he tried not to laugh. Holding her elbow, he led her deeper into the gardens, toward the tennis court.
“I know we are outside,” she said, as if that explained everything. “And if I step in something and ruin my shoes, then you will be sorry.”
He couldn’t hold in the chuckle. “I’ll buy you new shoes if you ruin them.”
“Shoes I’ll need to break in before Nationals. Not to mention these are my lucky shoes.”
“You don’t need luck. You have talent.”
They approached the court, where a man waited. He was dressed in white, performing some stretches while holding a racket in one hand.
“I know we’re near the court. I can smell the roses.”
He said nothing, just brought her to the edge of the short grass. Reaching, he removed her blindfold and let her blink a few times. “Maddie, I’d like you to meet—”
“Frederick Hovey,” she blurted and rushed toward the other man, thrusting her hand out. “Goodness, I cannot believe it. What are you doing here?”
A rangy man with a bushy mustache, Fred had gone to Harvard Law School, a connection that had assisted in Harrison getting him here. That, and the promise of a seat on the Archer Industries board.
Fred’s mouth kicked up as he shook her hand. “Mrs. Archer. You know who I am.”
“Of course. I saw you play Mr. Wrenn in the ’93 championships and again last year when you won your doubles championship. Your backhand cross-court return was a thing of beauty.”
Harrison smiled at her proudly. This was what made Maddie such a fierce competitor. Not only did she work hard on the court, she studied off the court, as well. “He’s also currently the top-ranked player in the country.”
“For now,” Fred qualified in an obvious attempt at humility.
“I am looking forward to seeing you at the men’s singles championship in August,” Maddie told him. “I think this is your year to win.”
“We’ll see. I assume Wrenn will be at his best, as well. He won’t be easy to beat.” Swinging his racket a few times, he said, “Shall we get to it?”
“Get to what?” She looked at Harrison. “I don’t understand.”
“Fred is here to train with you today.”
The muscles in her face slackened. “Is that a joke?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“I’d be honored, Mrs. Archer,” Fred said. “I saw you play in Cincinnati last summer.”
Another man approached the court. Maddie’s coach, Valentine Livingston. A member of a prominent East Coast family, Vallie had been an outstanding doubles player before retiring from tennis the year before. He’d agreed to help Maddie train, no doubt due to pressure from her father.
“Vallie,” she called, blinking in the sun. “I thought you were under the weather.”
“You didn’t think I would miss this, did you?” Vallie shook Fred’s hand. “Hovey, a pleasure to see you again.”
“Valentine.” Fred pumped the other man’s hand. “Came to ensure I don’t undo any of your hard work, I see.”
“Indeed,” Vallie said with a light laugh. “We’ve been working on her serve for six months. I can’t have you changing anything before Nationals.”
“Fair enough.” Fred pointed to the court. “Shall we, Mrs. Archer?”
Maddie bounced on her toes, excitement shining on her face, and Harrison’s shoulders relaxed slightly. This had worked. At least for a few moments, he’d cheered her up.