Masquerade by Nancy Moser Page A

seemed wrong to introduce herself to God so abruptly, wanting something, demanding something, begging for something.
    Yet wasn’t that her forte? With few exceptions Lottie expected to get whatever she asked for. And up until the current financial trouble, her parents had been very generous. They’d never said no to—
    One time they’d said no. A year ago Lottie had set her heart on getting a new wardrobe for their annual trip for the London season. But Father had restricted her to three new dresses and directed her to fill the gap with ones from her existing wardrobe. She remembered pouting about that.
    She doubted her heavenly Father would condone pouting.
    Mother moaned, a sound that ripped Lottie’s soul. She sought her mother’s hand and cringed to find it so frail and fragile. “Please tell me what to do,” she asked.
    Mother’s eyes were closed, her body spent. She mouthed a word.
    “Pray.”
    Proper introduction or not, Lottie gave it her best attempt.

Chapter Four

    “Lottie. Lottie …”
    She opened her eyes and saw Dora standing over her.
    “You fell asleep in the chair,” she said.
    The events of the night rushed back to her: cough, Mother, doctor. She last remembered sitting in a chair outside her Mother’s bedroom, vowing to stay awake in case she was needed.
    So much for that.
    Lottie searched Dora’s face for answers even before she asked the question. “How is she?”
    “Resting. She wants to see you.”
    Within a few steps Lottie felt the consequences of her awkward night’s sleep. But what did a few stiff muscles matter compared to her mother’s ordeal?
    The room was still barely lit, though Lottie could see a sliver of daylight through the draperies at the window. When had it turned to day?
    Her mother was still propped up by a dozen pillows, her face pale, her eyes closed.
    “Perhaps I should come back—”
    Mother’s eyes opened. “I’m awake. Please stay.”
    “Are you feeling better?”
    “Much.”
    “What did the doctor say?”
    “I’ll live.”
    Mother held out her hand, and Lottie fell upon it as if it were a holy relic deserving her worship. “I’m so glad, so glad. Thank you, thank you.”
    Lottie felt foolish but would not retract her impulsive gratitude. God had heard her prayers and answered them well. It was a stunning victory, yet she felt oddly humbled rather than triumphant.
    “Where is your father?” her mother asked.
    “I …”
    “He’s with her, isn’t he?”
    Was he? Surely not. And yet … “I don’t know.”
    Mother nodded slightly. “I do. Which is why you must listen to me very closely. You must go to America.”
    There was something in her mother’s tone that spoke beyond her words. She’d said you , not we . In the span of one stressful night had everything changed? “You can’t go with me, can you?”
    Her mother shook her head. “The doctor will not allow it.”
    “But you need to get away too. The trip was for your sake as well as my own.”
    Her mother paused, as if the weight of this lost chance weighed heavily upon her. “It’s not to be. I must remain here.”
    Lottie cringed at the disgrace her mother would have to endure in the coming months.
    To endure. Such was a woman’s lot.
    With a determined breath that seemed to give her courage, Lottie’s mother continued, her voice stronger than before. “I still want you to marry Conrad Tremaine. I want you taken care of by a family of standing—as you would have been here if things had not …”
    She hated to see her falter. “I don’t need to marry a rich man, Mother. Although I’ve certainly enjoyed the life of high society, it’s not as important to me as marrying for love.”
    “You speak as a child who has no idea what a life outside our set is really like.”
    “I weary of saying it, but you’re wrong. I’m no longer a child. Please give me some credit. I can adapt as well as anyone to whatever situation life affords me.” She hoped what she said was