Furness set down his glass. “How did you find that? Moving from place to place?”
“How did you find growing up in Yorkshire? You get used to what you know,” she replied.
“I suppose so,” he said. “And what are you used to, a girl like you?”
Thelma smirked, casting an eye around the room. “I’d like to say I’m used to this,” she said, taking in the crystal chandeliers; the waiters, silent and attentive; the free-flowing wine and daringly fashionable guest list, “but I’m afraid my husband and I were used to a slightly different standard of entertaining. Former husband,” she clarified.
“I’m sorry,” said Furness. “I didn’t realize—did he pass recently?”
“He didn’t. Divorce.” She waited for his reaction. Oh, she recalled an American friend telling her once, her nose wrinkling with distaste, they don’t have divorce over there; they have affairs.
Furness cleared his throat. “Any man would be mad to give you up,” he said. “I was lucky in my marriage to Daisy, God rest her soul. Not everyone is, I suppose.”
Thelma reddened, and the room grew quiet. At the head of the table, Reggie rang a dessert spoon against his glass.
“My friends, thank you once again for joining us this fine evening,” he said, getting to his feet. “My lovely wife tells me I am to lead us all to the dance floor with her equally lovely sister. Thelma?”
Thelma rose, the men standing in unison as Reggie claimed her hand. The band began to play the same jilting tune they had been rehearsing when Gloria set the place cards, and Thelma and Reggie began to dance. From the corner of her eye, Thelma saw Gloria pull Harry onto his feet, and within minutes they were surrounded by other couples.
“You’ve certainly done a number on Furness,” said Reggie quietly. “Beth Leary might be upset with you.”
“Really?” said Thelma. She looked over Reggie’s shoulder as Lord Furness began to dance with Beth. The sight irritated her—but then Furness turned, sweeping Beth around, and met Thelma’s eye.
Thelma looked away, pleased. “She’s welcome to him, but it might be a wasted effort,” she said.
Reggie’s wheezy laugh quickly turned to a cough. “You and I know that,” he said, “but I’m not sure Beth does. I’ll warn you, though, you’ll have stiff competition for that one, Miss Leary aside.”
“Whatever for?”
“I thought Gloria told you—Duke Furness’s wealth makes me look cheap. Though at the rate we’re spending it...”
Thelma waved off Reggie’s self-deprecation. “Well, Gloria mentioned it...”
“Shipping,” said Reggie. “Had a near-flotilla at the turn of the century—sold them all off during the war. When prices dropped after the Armistice, he bought everything back for a fraction of what he paid. There were complaints, of course—improprieties—but still, money talks. Thirty million, I’ve heard. Pounds.”
Lord Furness and Beth circled once more and he looked over Beth’s shoulder, his pale eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“...Wife died, had to be—oh, five, six years ago? He’s been alone ever since, though not for lack of trying. Half the women in St. James would give their left arms for a shot at him.”
The song ended and Reggie slowed, tucking his hand into his waistcoat as a red flush of exertion rose in his cheeks. His thick neck bit at the edge of his straight collar; Thelma knew there would be a line there, red and raw, when he removed his collar points at the end of the night.
“I’ll be straight with you, Thelma. Gloria knows you’ve been unhappy—well, no wonder, given that shark you married. She frets about you. It would mean so much to her if you made an effort to rebuild yourself. If you’ve caught Furness’s eye...” Reggie pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, his gaze steady, “Well. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”
* * *
They left the dance floor, drifting slowly, almost accidentally, toward Lord Furness and Beth.
“Good evening,” said Reggie. “Ah, a slower number, much more my speed. Beth, would you do me the honor?” He held out his hand and Beth dithered for a moment before accepting, a slight slump to her shoulders as Reggie pulled her away.
Thelma’s stomach lurched as Lord Furness shifted closer. She had enjoyed their dinner-table conversation, but now, knowing the hope that Gloria and Reggie had placed on them was disconcerting. And the wealth... She’d known Furness had money, but what did it say about her that, since hearing the figures, he’d become so much more attractive?
“Dreadful music, this,” said Lord Furness. “I know of a cracking group playing at a club across town... Reggie wouldn’t mind, would he?”
Thelma looked across the room. Reggie was making a concerted effort to distract Beth, while Gloria, in defiance of the song’s tempo, was dancing the Charleston with Hannibal de Mesa.
She frets about you.
At the end of the evening, Gloria would clasp hands with her husband and take an elevator to the top floor of the Ritz, kiss her beautiful daughter good-night and spend the early hours in Reggie’s arms. Tomorrow, she would take Thelma shopping for dresses made of fabric that would slip through her fingers like water, the Vanderbilt name all the capital she needed to live a life of comfort.
Thelma let her hand drift across the bar-top, as close to Furness’s as she dared. “I shouldn’t think so,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
Furness beamed. “I’ll get my coat,” he said, and Thelma dashed to the dance floor.
Gloria knew what Thelma had come to say. “Furness?” she said, barely missing a step.
“Can I take your cape?” asked Thelma.
Gloria laughed. “Tell him if you lose it, he’ll have to buy me another.” Hannibal lifted his arm and Gloria whirled under it, the beaded fringe of her dress whipping as she moved.
Thelma met Furness in the hotel lobby, his coat slung over his arm. “Ready,” she said, drawing close. He put his hand on the small of her back. “Where to, Lord Furness?”
“Please,” he said, “call me Duke.”
Three
Little Gloria let out a squeal of joy as Thelma and Gloria entered the nursery.
“Up!” she commanded, holding out her pudgy arms. Gloria lifted her out, offering her cheek to the toddler before setting her down on the carpet. Thelma lowered herself to the ground as well, arranging the hem of her dress while Little Gloria pushed herself up on unsteady legs and lurched toward the toy chest.