Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(29)

“But haven’t you—” Livia stopped abruptly.

Realizing what her sister had been about to ask, Aline flushed. She wandered to the window, staring out at a path of stone arches that led through the east garden. The arches had overgrown with roses, clematis, and honeysuckle, forming a fragrant tunnel that led to a stone-walled summerhouse with a wood-latticed ceiling. Memories of McKenna were everywhere in the garden…his hands moving carefully among the roses, pruning the dead blossoms…his tanned face dappled with the sunlight that broke through the leaves and lattices…the hair on the back of his neck glittering with sweat as he shoveled gravel onto the path, or weeded the raised flower beds.

“I don’t know that one could call it pining,” Aline said, stroking the windowpane with her fingertips. “McKenna will always be a part of me, no matter where he goes. They say that people who’ve lost a limb sometimes feel as if they still have it. How many times I’ve felt that McKenna was still here, and the empty space beside me was alive with his presence.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead and the tip of her nose touched the cool glass. “I love him beyond reason,” she whispered. “He’s a stranger to me now, and yet he is still so familiar. I can’t imagine a sweeter agony, having him so close.”

A long time passed before Livia was able to speak. “Aline…won’t you tell McKenna the truth, now that he has come back?”

“For what purpose? It would only earn his pity, and I would sooner throw myself from the bluff.” Pushing back from the window, Aline rubbed the side of her sleeve over the smudge her face had made on one of the gleaming panes. “Better to let him go on hating me.”

“I don’t know how you can endure it!” Livia exclaimed.

Aline smiled wryly. “Well, I find a strange comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t feel this degree of animosity now, had he not loved me so much before.”

Despite entreaties from both Marcus and Aline, Livia refused to attend the welcoming ball that would be attended by everyone of note in the county. “I need you there,” Aline had insisted, trying to think of any way that would induce her sister to emerge from her self-imposed seclusion from society. “I am feeling unsettled tonight, Livia, and your presence at my side would be such a help—”

“No,” Livia said placidly, settled in the family receiving room with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She wore her hair in a loose braid, and her feet were tucked into soft knit slippers. “I have no desire to mix with that mob of Americans. Besides, I know exactly why you’re unsettled, and my company won’t make a bit of difference to you.”

“Have you no desire to see McKenna, after all these years?”

“God help me, no.” Livia’s bright hazel-green eyes surveyed her over the rim of the glass as she sipped her wine. “The thought of facing McKenna after the way I tattled on the two of you so long ago makes me want to sink through the floor.”

“He doesn’t know about that.”

“Well, I do!”

Frowning, Aline decided to take another tack. “What about Mr. Shaw? Aren’t you the least bit desirous of meeting him?”

“From what Marcus has told me about the infamous Mr. Shaw, I would do well to stay far away from him.”

“I thought Marcus liked Shaw.”

“He does, but not as a companion for either of his sisters.”

“I should think that would make Mr. Shaw very entertaining,” Aline said, making Livia laugh.

“Since he’s staying here for a month, we’ll probably find out. In the meantime, go downstairs and enjoy yourself. You look so beautiful in that gown…didn’t you once tell me that blue was McKenna’s favorite color?”

“I don’t remember.”

It had indeed been blue. Tonight Aline had not been able to prevent herself from reaching for a silk gown the color of Russian lapis. It was a simple gown with no flounces or overskirt, just a demi-train in the back and a low, square-cut bodice. A string of pearls was wrapped twice around her throat, with the lower loop hanging almost to her waist. Another strand had been artfully entwined in her pinned-up curls.

“You’re a goddess,” her sister proclaimed cheerfully, raising her wineglass in tribute. “Good luck, dear. Because once McKenna sees you in that gown, I predict that you’ll have a difficult time keeping him at bay.”

Once McKenna’s business partnership with Gideon Shaw had been struck, Gideon had insisted on making him presentable for Knickerbocker society. This had entailed a long and rigorous period of training and instruction, which had given McKenna suitable polish to mingle with those in the Shaws’ elevated circles. However, McKenna would never deceive himself into thinking that his cultivation was anything more than skin-deep. Being a member of the upper class consisted of far more than clothes and manners. It required an attitude of entitlement, an intrinsic confidence in one’s own superiority, and an elegance of character that he knew he could never attain.

Luckily for McKenna, in America money was enough. As exclusive as the American upper class was, it still reluctantly made room for wealthy climbers. A man with new money, usually referred to as a “swell,” found that most doors were open to him. Women were not so fortunate. If an heiress’s family was not well established, no matter how financially well endowed, she would never be accepted by Old New York, and she was obliged to do her husband hunting in Paris or London rather than at home.