Chloe Read Free

least use for politics and you know it. What I don’t like is Chloe being dragged to these . . . events. I tolerated it when she was a child, but she’s made her debut now. She—”
    “She’ll do—” Chloe’s father overrode. “—what needs to be done to help her daddy get elected senator.”
    “Chloe should be attracting young suitors, not traveling around the county, making a spectacle of herself.”
    “Your daughter didn’t make a spectacle of herself,” Jackson interposed. “She spoke to a few citizens and made a very good impression. After all, women’s suffrage is just around the corner and Chloe provides your husband with a golden opportunity to show his respect for women by letting his daughter speak for him.”
    “Respect for women?” Mrs. Kimball was too genteel to snort, but her tone and expression together were the equivalent. “I can’t vote, Mr. Jackson. So don’t try to electioneer me. Chloe is a lady and ladies have nothing to do with politics.”
    Chloe wished she could second this idea. But she wasn’t a participant here, just the captive witness.
    “Chloe’s a lady,” Mr. Kimball blustered. “No one can doubt that. She’s your daughter after all, a Carlyle. And make no mistake, Lily Leigh, I’m going to win this election, so don’t bother tryin’ to persuade me not to take advantage of every ace I got.”
    He turned to Chloe. “You did a good job today, sugar.” With a smile, he drew out a small jeweler’s box from his waistcoat pocket. “This is for you.”
    Chloe accepted the small box and opened it. Inside the deep-blue velvet was a ring of dainty pearls and diamonds, set in platinum. The sight didn’t thrill her, but she knew better than to violate her father’s expectations. She looked up with a delighted smile in place. “Why, Daddy, you didn’t have to.”
    “I know I didn’t.” He beamed his Santy Claus smile. “But you came through like a trooper today. At first, I thought Jackson had made a mistake. But he said you only learn to swim by being tossed into the river.” He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound like pebbles rolling in a wood box. “Today my little girl swam back to shore all by herself.”
    Chloe pictured herself tossing Jackson into the nearby Patuxent River, swollen with spring rain and runoff. But she gave another false smile and slipped the ring onto her finger. “Thank you, Daddy.” She rose and kissed his jowly cheek, another part of the ritual.
    Her mother rolled her eyes. “I don’t want Chloe put on display any more—”
    “She’ll do what I say and that’s that.” Mr. Kimball glared at his wife, bringing the discussion to an end.
    “You never did understand how to treat a lady.”
    Jackson stiffened next to Chloe. Her father scowled. Chloe concentrated on swallowing her second orange section.
How much did Mother have to drink before dinner? Is that why she’s stepping over the line?
    Her parents’ bickering tonight had followed the usual pattern. Jackson was such a frequent visitor during Mr. Kimball’s election campaigns that they no longer treated him like a guest. But why had her mother persisted tonight? According to custom, she should have subsided after Chloe received the ring from her father. Why hadn’t she?
    “I want Chloe to make a good match, Mr. Kimball,” her mother declared, her voice beginning to slur slightly. “What gentleman wants his future wife making political speeches? That’s as distasteful as Kitty McCaslin marching with the suffragettes in New York City last year.”
    “Kitty was there today,” Chloe said, making an attempt to sidetrack her mother.
    “That doesn’t make it any better.” Mrs. Kimball shuddered with refinement. “That McCaslin girl is never going to make a credible match—”
    Mr. Kimball snorted. “Only if her daddy loses his bank.” Jackson chortled behind the back of his hand.
    “Oh,
someone
will marry her.” Mrs. Kimball waved her hand in the air. “But no