Unseemly Ambition Read Online Free Page A

overwhelming. Concordia held a
gloved finger under her nose to hold back a sneeze.
    She had left a restless Sophia in the
anteroom. Although Concordia had never before been a maid of
honor—and hoped never to be one again—she knew Sophia well enough
to see that her friend craved solitude before the ceremony. After
all, marriage was a big step for any woman, but especially one such
as Sophia, who had carved out an unconventional life as a tireless
advocate for women and the poor at Hartford Settlement
House.
    So, once Sophia was dressed and ready,
Concordia ushered Sophia’s stepmother and little sister out of the
room and left her alone.
    Concordia checked her watch. Just a
few more minutes. From her vantage point, she saw several women
from Hartford Settlement House being escorted to their seats by
David Bradley. The church was getting crowded now. Someone had
pulled open several windows to dispel the stuffy air.
    David looked quite dashing
today. Instead of his customary lumpy-pocketed houndstooth jacket
with the worn elbows, he wore a tailored morning coat and pinstripe
trousers, with a crisp white shirt that set off his dark eyes and
wavy black hair. His hair curled just at his collar in a way that
made her want to smooth it with her fingers. She smiled. Land sakes, weddings were
rife with romantic impulses.
    As she surveyed the congregation, she
saw that Mother and her escort were seated near the front.
Concordia craned her neck for a better look at the man. She didn’t
know much about Robert Flynn, except that he was a native of
Ireland, worked as an attorney for the prestigious law firm of
Barrows and Hodge, and was younger than her mother. His
exquisitely-tailored jacket fit him beautifully. His neatly-trimmed
mustache and beard, heavy eyebrows, salt-and-pepper hair and steady
gray eyes bespoke intelligence and reliability.
    Mother had only recently told her
about Mr. Flynn, describing him merely as a friend who accompanied
her to various social functions. Concordia hoped she could learn
more about his intentions. Her mother was an attractive widow,
though only of modest means. Still, one could not be too
careful.
    Concordia became aware of movement in
the chancel. Opening the side door a bit wider, she recognized the
tall, gaunt figure of the groom: police lieutenant Aaron Capshaw,
his bright red hair and mustache unmistakable. Gone today was his
perpetual gloomy expression, and his habit of walking with a slight
stoop, as if looking for clues he had missed. Instead, his carriage
was ramrod straight, with a spring in his step. He took his place
next to the minister and his best man, eleven-year-old
Eli.
    The boy looked exceptionally
presentable today, although one stubborn cowlick refused to stay
slicked down in his wavy hair, and his wrists and ankles showed
beneath the ill-fitting borrowed suit. He looked across the nave,
smiling when he noticed Concordia. She gave him a little wave
before he turned back to Capshaw with luminous eyes, waiting to
respond to any direction he’d give.
    Concordia scurried down the hall and
rapped on the anteroom door. An anxious Sophia poked her head out.
“Is it time?” she whispered. “Thank goodness.”
    Concordia grinned and gave her a
careful hug so as not to muss her dress. “You look beautiful,
dear.”
    More than beautiful—radiant, she
thought, admiring the short-trained gown of elegant ivory satin
overlaid with antique lace. A simple circlet of pearls adorned
Sophia’s light hair, and she carried a bouquet of orange
blossoms.
    With no father living, Sophia had
decided to keep the procession simple, with Concordia preceding the
bride as the organist played the Wedding March. Concordia was glad
she wasn’t the center of attention; it was a bit unnerving to have
so many eyes fixed upon her merely in passing. She concentrated on
not tripping over her hem.
    As they got to the chancel
steps, Concordia caught a glimpse of a patchwork-colored tail
swishing behind a vase.