Free An Unlikely Suitor by Nancy Moser

Rowena. Which wasn’t that much of a surprise. Ever since she’d come out—four years ago—society had accepted her presence with a nervous concession, as they would do with an eccentric aunt or a slightly senile uncle. Although no one ever—ever—spoke of her handicap, it was always in the room, a stigma preventing her from full entry into their sacred circle.
    She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Eleven-thirty. They’d been done with dinner for two hours, yet had kept the poor waiters busy with various requests for additional food, even though no one had eaten their meal in its entirety.
    Harriet Adams cupped her hands to her cheeks and exclaimed, “I just don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t attend every ball in Newport. If you gentlemen don’t keep me dancing, I’ll be forced to dance with my uncle Elijah, and he has two left feet.”
    “Maybe I’ll dance with your uncle Elijah,” said Reggie Cosgrove. “Since I have two right feet, together we’ll make a pair.”
    “Or go round and round in circles,” said another.
    “Poor man,” Harriet said.
    Harriet. Uncle. Poor. Rowena suddenly remembered something her father had told her that morning. “Have you read Harriet Beecher Stowe’s latest book, The Poor Life ?” she asked the group.
    The room fell into complete and utter silence. Then Reggie said, “Harriet who?” He paused a short second, then burst into laughter. “Are you sure your uncle’s name isn’t Tom?”
    “And why would I want to read about anyone who’s poor?” Harriet said.
    More laughter. Rowena had reached her fill and stood. To his credit, Edward stood also. “I need to go home, please. If you don’t mind?”
    “Of course,” he said, and pulled out her chair.
    Harriet spoke first. “Don’t leave us, Rowena.” To Reggie she said, “Apologize to her, you oaf.”
    Reggie stumbled to his feet, plainly drunk. “Ah, come on, Rowena, I didn’t mean to run you off.”
    Rowena paused at the door and faced them. “Believe me, you do not possess the power.”
    She took Edward’s arm and exited the room accompanied by a bevy of ooh s and laughter.
    Good riddance.
    Once in the carriage she had second thoughts. “I apologize, Mr. DeWitt. I usually am not so short with them, but—”
    “No, no, you did me a favor. Somehow they manage to be boorish and boring.”
    Edward was a gem.

Chapter Six

    W hat are you doing?”
    “Shh,” Lucy said, getting out of bed.
    “It’s not morning, is it?” Sofia asked.
    “No, not morning.”
    It was the middle of the night. Lucy couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts twisted with her anger at Bonwitter and her frustration regarding Rowena Langdon’s clothes. Finally admitting she couldn’t change Bonwitter, her mind had free rein to think about helping Rowena.
    But Mrs. Flynn will be mad.
    Her ideas swelled, making the threat of Mrs. Flynn’s ire lose its bite. The ideas demanded full release, so she got up, dressed, and slipped downstairs and into the shop.
    She purposely left the lamps off in the front lobby and felt her way through the dark until she reached the curtain to the workroom. Only when it was fully closed behind her did she light the lamps.
    It was eerie being there alone. The silence was almost frightening.
    Almost.
    To dispel it, Lucy made some noise as she found Rowena’s outfits hanging in the wardrobe closet. There were two dozen ensembles so far. There was no way she would have time to fix them all. But if her ideas worked and even one gown addressed Rowena’s unique body issues, then hopefully Lucy could work on the rest of them with the customer’s—and Mrs. Flynn’s—blessing.
    She found the day dress Rowena had been wearing when Lucy had offered her opinion. The skirt was a pale beige, settling somewhere between cream and tan. The bodice was a light yellow, accordion-pleated mousseline de soie, bisected with pearl buttons. The sleeves were of the current leg-o’-mutton fashion—voluminous from shoulder to