Free What the Lady Wants by Renée Rosen

everyone laughed politely. But Delia saw something pass between Nannie and Marsh and realized it hadn’t been a good-natured gibe.
    â€œWell now,” said Bertha, “let’s hear from the birthday boy.”
    â€œSpeech, speech,” said Potter, raising his champagne glass by its stem. “Come on, Marsh, let’s hear it.”
    But Marshall waved his hands in protest.
    â€œOh, please.” Bertha clapped her hands, setting her bracelets clanking. “Speech! Speech!”
    â€œGo on, dear,” said Nannie. “Your guests are waiting for you. Again.”
    Marshall shifted in his chair, stalling.
    It was Delia who finally raised her glass and said, “On behalf of Mr. Field I would like to announce that all imported fabrics will be on sale tomorrow.”
    The room erupted in laughter and Marshall covered his heart with his hand and bowed toward Delia in appreciation. An unexpected glow welled up inside her as she basked in his praise.
    â€œWell done,” said Potter.
    â€œYour wife has quite a wit,” George Pullman said to Arthur.
    â€œThat she does.” Arthur reached for Delia’s hand. “Indeed she does.”
    Mary Leiter turned to her husband, utterly confused and a bit miffed about it. “You didn’t tell me there was a sale on fabrics tomorrow.”
    Everyone looked at Mary Leiter and burst out laughing again.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A fter they’d finished dinner, the men retreated to the library for their brandies and cigars, while the women retired to the parlor. Nannie had furnished the room extravagantly, in the style of Louis XVI. A gold birdcage stood in the corner, home to her two gray, yellow-faced cockatiels with matching orange blush spots near their eyes. Delia, who’d always been afraid of birds, sat as far away from them as possible in a black and gold chair with fluted legs and a pair of golden sphinxes for arms. She found it as unattractive as it was uncomfortable.
    While sipping her sherry, Mary Leiter announced that her daughter was starting piano lessons. “She practices her scales morning, noon and night,” she laughed lightly. “I tell you, her piano playing is going to be the vein of my existence.”
    No one bothered to correct her. They were all accustomed to Mary Leiter twisting up her words, coming out with a string of nonsensical statements that everyone politely ignored. After all, like Nannie, Mary was a simple woman whose husband had come into a great deal of money after establishing Field & Leiter. While the men seemed to have transitioned gracefully into their positions of power, their wives appeared to be struggling with their own elevated status. Especially Mary, who found herself ill equipped to mix with high society. She wore couture by designers whose names she could not pronounce and sat through operaswithout grasping a single word. But she was kind, so everyone overlooked her naïveté and malapropisms.
    Harriet Pullman continued the conversation, talking above the squawking of the birds, about her twin boys and then her two older daughters. Bertha chimed in about her sons and Sybil Perkins spoke at length about her daughters. After Nannie told stories about Ethel and Junior she asked Abby about Spencer.
    â€œI can hardly believe he’s almost three years old,” said Abby.
    Delia folded her arms and pressed her ankles and knees tightly together. It was painfully obvious that she was the only one in the room with nothing to contribute to a conversation about children.
    Harriet turned to her. “You know, dear, you’re really still a newlywed. I’m sure that a year from now, you’ll be raising a family, too.”
    â€œOh, of course she will,” insisted Abby while the cockatiels batted their wings.
    â€œWe do hope to start a family soon,” Delia said as she leaned her shoulder blades against the chair. She and Arthur had been married eight months and so far