Page 86 of Share with Me

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When the reproductioneighteenth-century boned stay dug into Brinley’s ribs again, she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to eat much tonight at the Oglethorpe Charity Dinner, colonial food notwithstanding. She placed a hand on her laced stomacher, its embroidery textured under her fingers. The salmon-colored robe à l’anglaise barely fitted her, but if she survived the evening with the gown and petticoat intact, she’d be a happy camper.

She was glad she had snacked on Yun’s gingerbread cookies before she came. Those cookies could hold her over for quite a while.

Hmm… Maybe those cookies are why my waist feels a bit tight right now.

She lifted the mineral water to her lips and looked around. She found Ivan chatting away with the harpist, who was in a pretty colonial costume herself. Ivan looked rather period-authentic and so did the entire SISO in their colonial garb.

Bravo, Conductor Petrocelli.

Someone waved to her.

Brinley waved back. Not the person she wanted to see tonight. But there he was in his three-piece hunter green silk damask colonial suit. “Jared.”

“Brinley Brooks. I’m surprised to see you here.” Jared Urquhart kissed her cheek lightly. “Is Phinn here with you?”

“No. We’re no longer together.”

Jared lifted her left hand. “I see you returned his ring. When did this happen?”

“Summer.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know.”

“Some best friend you are, badmouthing him.”

“We were best friends until… Water under the bridge.” Jared’s smooth, manicured fingers, went up her forearm. “You here alone?”

She pulled away. “I’m here with someone.”

“Right. She’s here with me.”

Ivan.

He came up to Brinley in his dark blue waistcoat that brought out the color of his eyes. His coat was off, and Brinley could see the ruffles on his shirt under his cravat. His sleeves were crumpled, but Brinley didn’t care. She felt his left arm going around her waist though the stiff stay prevented her from feeling his touch.

Ivan extended his other hand toward Jared as if he was parrying an opponent with his fencing sword. “Ivan McMillan. You are?”

“Jared Urquhart, an old friend of the Brooks family.”

Brinley could feel the tension as the two men shook hands, eyeball to eyeball in their staring-down. Jared was a bit more willowy than Ivan, but they were both about as tall as each other in their colonial stacked heels. And both looked spiffy in their costumes, from their cravats down to their breeches, white stockings, and buckled black shoes.

She tried to muffle her chuckle.

“Are you okay, Brin?” Ivan turned to look at her.

You blinked.

Brinley could imagine Jared saying that.

Jared had always been competitive even when they were kids playing in Grandpa Brooks’s backyard, though Brinley had never gone out with him. He seemed to find her refusal of him a missing notch in his totem pole, and had made it a point to remind her. They would always be in the same circles, it seemed, with Jared’s company hiring Brooks Investments for their many development projects all around the world. She wouldn’t be surprised if he offered to buy Brooks Investments someday.

“I’m fine.” Brinley stepped closer to Ivan.

Jared smiled. “I’m going to outbid you for the Strad, Brinley.”

“Who says I’m going to bid for it?” Brinley had put her West Paces Ferry house on the market so she could buy that oceanfront house that Tobias Vega was renovating for her on St. Simon’s Island. There was no money leftover in that swap for her to do any frivolous spending. She was her father’s daughter through and through, and he had taught her never to spend what she didn’t have in cash. The lesson had been so ingrained in her such that even with liquid cash, Brinley was loathe to spend a dime. She’d rather keep the cash, thank you very much.

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