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Authors: S.G. Rogers
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path from the upper terrace led to a charming stone cottage known as the Central Park Casino. Belle noticed many expensive carriages were parked out front, on a circular gravel driveway. “I take it this is a rather fashionable place?” she said as they mounted the few steps to the entrance.
“Indeed it is. They’ll let you in, certainly, but they may bar me at the door.”
The restaurant wasn’t that large, but many diners sat outside on the veranda or under the Wisteria pergola at the western edge of the site. As it had grown very hot outside, Belle chose to sit in the cool restaurant and sip iced lemonade. When the waitress returned to take their food order, Belle ordered a light luncheon of fresh stuffed tomatoes and chicken salad. Wesley, on the other hand, ordered a more substantial meal consisting of tenderloin steak, fried potatoes, spinach, stewed mushrooms, and cucumber salad.
While they waited for their food to be served, Belle glanced around the restaurant. The foliage from many potted palms gave the place a garden appeal, and despite the resplendent patrons, the establishment had a comfortable atmosphere.
“Thank you for today, Wesley,” she said. “I feel very fortunate to have visited Central Park with you.”
“I’ve enjoyed myself as well.”
“My father informs me that tomorrow after breakfast, Mr. Cavendish and your mother’s new lady’s maid will report to your suite.”
“What for?”
“To pack your trunks. Most of them must be sent to the ship ahead of time.”
A cloud descended over Wesley’s face. “Everything’s changing so quickly. It’s difficult to believe I’m really leaving America.”
“It must be disconcerting, I can imagine.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me, Belle. You mustn’t think for a moment that I’m not grateful. I’m fully aware how lucky I am, and I’m not complaining one bit. It’s just that I feel a little like the proverbial bull in a china shop.”
“I understand. Truly, I regret being rude when we first met. It was unpardonable.”
Wesley chuckled. “I expect I did look like a delinquent.” He tapped the faint bruise remaining under one eye. “Still do, as a matter of fact.”
“Not so.”
“How do I compare to the society gentlemen in your circle then? Do I pass muster?”
Belle lowered her lashes and picked up her glass of lemonade. “Erm…I daresay you won’t be able to escape the attentions of debutantes all over England, even if you wished to.”
A pink flush rose from his high, starched collar. “I’m sorry, I was referring to my manners.”
Belle wished she could evaporate into thin air. He must think me a flirt! She laughed to cover her embarrassment. “Manners, moving in society, and the rituals of courtship are inextricable, Wesley. Your American birth is intriguing. I wouldn’t worry overmuch how you may compare to anyone else.”
Despite her words, she couldn’t help but compare Wesley Parker to Errol. Where Wesley was enthusiastic, Errol was soulful. Wesley could be playful, but Errol was uniformly decorous. Both men were handsome in different ways, but Errol’s perfectly groomed brown hair had never invited her touch. By contrast, she was constantly stifling the urge to push Wesley’s tousled curls back from his forehead. For the first time, she was forced to consider whether or not Sir Errol Blankenship might be wanting. Belle glared at the ceiling fan. You’re being completely unfair to poor Errol, who isn’t here to defend himself—and you’re fickle besides!
“Are you cold?” Wesley asked. “We can move away from the fan, if you like.”
Belle stopped scowling. “Oh, er, no, thanks. I was just thinking how much Errol would enjoy it here. I’ll be sure to tell him about this restaurant in my next letter.”
Chapter Six
Folly
A S B ELLE A ND W ESLEY E SCAPED the afternoon heat inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, her brief feelings of disloyalty weighed heavily upon her mind.
“Indeed it is. They’ll let you in, certainly, but they may bar me at the door.”
The restaurant wasn’t that large, but many diners sat outside on the veranda or under the Wisteria pergola at the western edge of the site. As it had grown very hot outside, Belle chose to sit in the cool restaurant and sip iced lemonade. When the waitress returned to take their food order, Belle ordered a light luncheon of fresh stuffed tomatoes and chicken salad. Wesley, on the other hand, ordered a more substantial meal consisting of tenderloin steak, fried potatoes, spinach, stewed mushrooms, and cucumber salad.
While they waited for their food to be served, Belle glanced around the restaurant. The foliage from many potted palms gave the place a garden appeal, and despite the resplendent patrons, the establishment had a comfortable atmosphere.
“Thank you for today, Wesley,” she said. “I feel very fortunate to have visited Central Park with you.”
“I’ve enjoyed myself as well.”
“My father informs me that tomorrow after breakfast, Mr. Cavendish and your mother’s new lady’s maid will report to your suite.”
“What for?”
“To pack your trunks. Most of them must be sent to the ship ahead of time.”
A cloud descended over Wesley’s face. “Everything’s changing so quickly. It’s difficult to believe I’m really leaving America.”
“It must be disconcerting, I can imagine.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me, Belle. You mustn’t think for a moment that I’m not grateful. I’m fully aware how lucky I am, and I’m not complaining one bit. It’s just that I feel a little like the proverbial bull in a china shop.”
“I understand. Truly, I regret being rude when we first met. It was unpardonable.”
Wesley chuckled. “I expect I did look like a delinquent.” He tapped the faint bruise remaining under one eye. “Still do, as a matter of fact.”
“Not so.”
“How do I compare to the society gentlemen in your circle then? Do I pass muster?”
Belle lowered her lashes and picked up her glass of lemonade. “Erm…I daresay you won’t be able to escape the attentions of debutantes all over England, even if you wished to.”
A pink flush rose from his high, starched collar. “I’m sorry, I was referring to my manners.”
Belle wished she could evaporate into thin air. He must think me a flirt! She laughed to cover her embarrassment. “Manners, moving in society, and the rituals of courtship are inextricable, Wesley. Your American birth is intriguing. I wouldn’t worry overmuch how you may compare to anyone else.”
Despite her words, she couldn’t help but compare Wesley Parker to Errol. Where Wesley was enthusiastic, Errol was soulful. Wesley could be playful, but Errol was uniformly decorous. Both men were handsome in different ways, but Errol’s perfectly groomed brown hair had never invited her touch. By contrast, she was constantly stifling the urge to push Wesley’s tousled curls back from his forehead. For the first time, she was forced to consider whether or not Sir Errol Blankenship might be wanting. Belle glared at the ceiling fan. You’re being completely unfair to poor Errol, who isn’t here to defend himself—and you’re fickle besides!
“Are you cold?” Wesley asked. “We can move away from the fan, if you like.”
Belle stopped scowling. “Oh, er, no, thanks. I was just thinking how much Errol would enjoy it here. I’ll be sure to tell him about this restaurant in my next letter.”
Chapter Six
Folly
A S B ELLE A ND W ESLEY E SCAPED the afternoon heat inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, her brief feelings of disloyalty weighed heavily upon her mind.
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