The Magnolia Palace(59)

Lillian hadn’t responded to his entreaties. He thought she was a proper young lady, and he wouldn’t understand her past. He probably thought that her wish to become a movie starlet was a silly girl’s dream, not a true goal close to being realized. They couldn’t be more different. Not to mention that if Mr. Frick found out she’d diverted Mr. Danforth’s attention from Miss Helen, she’d be subject to his wrath and retribution. No one crossed Mr. Frick. No one.

She fully intended to burn the letters—it was stupid to leave them lying about—but each night before bed, the very sight of them set the blood rushing in her veins, as she relived the kiss and the way Mr. Danforth had looked at her, like she meant everything in the world to him. So far she hadn’t gotten up the courage to light the match.

Mr. Frick was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

“That is true, yes. Mr. Danforth has not reached out to Miss Helen, as far as I know.”

“We had planned for the engagement to be announced over Thanksgiving. I worry that my daughter has said or done something foolish to dash our hopes. Can you enlighten us?”

How could he talk like that in front of his own daughter? An unexpected surge of pity took Lillian by surprise. She wanted to kneel down before her and explain that she didn’t deserve her father’s harsh words. That she was deserving of love, and Mr. Danforth’s retreat wasn’t her fault. “Miss Helen, I am sure, has done nothing untoward.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

The stupidity of Lillian’s actions during the scavenger hunt hit her full force. She’d gotten caught up in the moment, in the lush surroundings, in the grand isolation of the week, acting as if the mansion and its artifacts were hers, acting as if Miss Helen’s beau was hers as well. She must make this right.

“I’ve been privy to some questions from Mr. Danforth, regarding the ring setting, the proposal, and so forth.” She looked over at Miss Helen, who had brightened considerably. “I’m sorry to have kept this from you, but he wants it to be a surprise. I assure you, all is well.”

Mrs. Frick clapped her tiny hands together, and relief flooded Miss Helen’s features. Mr. Frick, however, didn’t change his visage at all, his blue eyes never leaving Lillian’s. “Well then, I suppose that’s good news.”

“Father, why don’t we send Miss Lilly to him tomorrow? That way she can answer his questions and report back. But, Miss Lilly, you won’t tell him we’re in on the secret, will you?”

Even if it would be painful for Lillian, it was the best course of action. “I won’t let him know that you know. Don’t worry.”

The next day, she found herself standing again in front of Mr. Danforth’s townhouse, holding a note from Miss Helen in her hand—one that Miss Helen had insisted Lillian write, of course. It was time for Lillian to put a stop to Mr. Danforth’s wrongheaded idea that they were a match. It simply couldn’t happen. She’d placed all of her hard work from the last two months at great risk.

How cruel she’d been, to clumsily destroy Miss Helen’s prospects. Sure, the woman was difficult and sometimes unnecessarily biting, but it wasn’t all her fault. The war, as well as her family’s manipulations, had damaged her, stunted her development. She deserved a happy home, out from under the thumb of her father and the ghost of her older sister. Mr. Danforth was the answer, and Lillian needed to get out of the way.

The butler led her into the front parlor. Before Mr. Danforth entered, she heard him give the butler an errand, something about a trip to the grocer, and the front door opened and closed. Through the window, she spied the butler heading for Third Avenue.

The door to the parlor opened and Mr. Danforth appeared. A cloud passed over his features as he took in her stony stare.

“Miss Lilly.” He took her gloved hand, briefly.

Lillian held out the note. “From Miss Helen, to you.”

He didn’t open it right away. “She’s wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”

“It’s been three days, so yes, she and Mr. Frick are worried that your intentions have changed.”

“Have they?” He looked up at her, hopeful.

“I can’t answer that.”

He tore open the note and read it, and then, as if in spite of himself, he broke into a smile. “You wrote this, didn’t you? Not her.”

There was no point in lying. “How can you tell?”

“Having spent those days with you at the mansion, I understand your cadence. In fact, you wrote the other notes as well, didn’t you, from the very beginning?”

Lillian looked out the window, hoping the butler would be returning soon. Being alone with Mr. Danforth felt more daring than when she’d stood naked in the middle of a studio. Like anything might happen. “I did.”

He burst out into laughter. “So early on, then, you were in fact writing to yourself, back and forth. A proxy for the supposed lovers.”

She couldn’t help smile. “Ridiculous, I admit. Although, when it comes to society matches, probably not uncommon.”

“Society matches.” He sighed. “That about sums it up. I provide Helen the respectability of marriage and an escape from the confines of her father’s will, while she gives me access to the Frick family fortune, an easy life ahead of me.”