Journey's End (Gilded Promises)

by Renee Ryan

After spending her dream-hours with him, Caroline did not wish to think of him this morning. He’d already proven himself far too clever, too dangerous, and highly suspicious of her. A deadly combination.

  It was unnerving how he seemed to look past her exterior and straight into her core. If he showed up at her grandfather’s tonight, Caroline could not let her guard down around him, nor could she let him see a moment of weakness in her.

  Groaning at the daunting task ahead, she buried her head beneath her pillow. The scent of lavender filled her nose. The pleasant aroma reminded her that she didn’t belong in this world. But she didn’t belong in Whitechapel, either. In truth, she didn’t know where she belonged.

  Sighing a third time in so many minutes—really, that is quite enough of that—Caroline tossed aside the pillow and stared up at the canopy above her head. She’d fallen asleep counting the seams in the material, her mind a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. Now she couldn’t seem to get out of bed, even when she had a multitude of tasks to complete before tonight’s dinner party.

  Not for the first time since moving uptown, she wished Mary were here with her. Caroline could use the girl’s calming influence. Maybe her friend would pray for her. Or simply offer up words that would provide comfort.

  A knock at the door had her scrambling out of bed with a cold start. Looking frantically around, she had to remind herself she’d done nothing wrong. She’d paid for this room already, a full two weeks in advance.

  “One moment, please,” she called out.

  Working fast, she shrugged into a lush rose-colored robe that cost more than her mother had earned in a year. Guilt coursed through her as Caroline let her gaze wander about the bedchamber. Libby St. James would have enjoyed a night in a room like this. Her mother had deserved a night in a room like this.

  Why hadn’t Caroline tried to win vast amounts of money before her mother died, if for no other reason than to lighten Libby St. James’s burdens?

  Caroline knew the answer, of course.

  Because fleecing unsuspecting gamblers, no matter how much money they had in their pockets or how badly they played, could not be justified. Not morally.

  Another knock rang out, this one louder than the first.

  “Enter,” Caroline called out at the same time she slipped her feet into a pair of satin slippers. Satin! What a strange, extravagant luxury that felt beyond ridiculous, yet she knew it was required for the role she’d chosen to play.

  The hotel maid assigned to her room poked her head around the door. “You told me to wake you at dawn, Miss Harding.”

  The soft, lilting American accent sounded more pronounced this morning, as if Sally was taking great pains to speak very clearly, very precisely. Caroline only noticed the small change because she took equal care with her own accent. What, she wondered, was Sally hiding inside that careful inflection?

  “Yes, I did wish for you to wake me early. Thank you.” When the girl hovered on the threshold, chewing on her bottom lip, Caroline motioned her forward. “Please. Come in, Sally. I would like your opinion on something.”

  “You want my opinion?”

  “I do.”

  Not sure why that surprised the girl, Caroline ushered Sally into the room. The maid wore the requisite hotel uniform, a nondescript light blue dress under a long white apron tied in a neat bow at her back. The cap on her head hid the girl’s hair, but Caroline could tell from her fair coloring and light eyebrows that Sally was a blonde like Elizabeth. They were of the same height and build as well.

  Unsettled by the similarities, Caroline let go of Sally’s arm and moved across the room to glance out the window overlooking the street below. At this hour, activity was light.

  Sally cleared her throat.

  Caroline glanced over her shoulder.

  “You wished for my assistance with something, Miss Harding?”

  “Yes. Come with me.” Caroline directed the maid to the closet on the far side of the room. “I’ve been invited to a private dinner party tonight, and I’m mulling over what I should wear.”

  “You want my opinion on what you should wear?” Sally straightened her spine, looking quite pleased, perhaps even triumphant, as if she’d just succeeded at some secret task. “Truly?”

  Caroline bit her lip again, wondering if she was making a mistake dragging the maid into her intrigue, no matter how indirectly. She proceeded cautiously. “If you were ever to attend a private dinner party where you were meeting an important person for the first time, would you wear this dress?” She pulled out a sophisticated crimson gown. “Or that one?” She indicated a blue silk dress with a nod of her head.

  As Sally surveyed the choices a moment, a shrewd look filled her eyes. “If I were to attend such a party”—she stepped forward and considered a moment longer—“what impression would I be wanting to make?”

  The question proved the girl was far more intelligent and observant than most in her position, traits Caroline had noticed from their first meeting. Sally might be an employee in this hotel, but she had brains. And that knowing look in her eyes indicated that she recognized that Caroline wasn’t quite the person she pretended to be. Perhaps Sally wasn’t the person she seemed, either. Perhaps, like Caroline, the woman carried secrets hidden deep within her.

  Instead of feeling threatened by her suspicions, Caroline felt a connection to the maid, as if she’d known the girl all her life. She’d felt a similar bond with Mary the first time they’d met as well. Two strong connections in so many months. How odd. “The goal is to make the people at the party want to know you better.”

  Sally nodded. “Would I want to portray”—she glanced at Caroline—“innocence?”

  A valid question, one Caroline had considered long before she’d boarded the SS Princess Helena. “No, not innocence, not particularly. However, you would want to present a nonthreatening air. Let’s say harmless but likable.”

  Hands on her hips, Sally leaned forward and stuck her head inside the closet. “I’d wear this one.” She plucked out a white silk dress with delicate silver lace on the bodice and a satin ribbon of the same color at the waist. “They’ll not be able to resist you.”

  At Sally’s declaration, Caroline found herself torn between amusement and a jolt of unexpected longing. “I could never pull off irresistible.”

  “But of course you could. Not only will this dress set off your coloring, but you will appear sweet and pure, like a . . . like an ingénue.” Sally gave an impressive eye roll, the censure in the gesture making her seem as though she knew more than she was letting on. “The wealthy in this country do so love their ingénues.”

  An ingénue, indeed. Caroline smiled reluctantly. Did she wish to make that particular statement? A pointless question. She could never pull off sweet, youthful innocence.

  Despair threatened to overwhelm her. Was she kidding herself? Was she playing at a game that was beyond her skills? Would she ultimately destroy herself rather than her grandfather?

  As if sensing the direction of Caroline’s thoughts, Sally replaced the dress in the closet with considerable care and set a slim hand on Caroline’s arm. “May I speak freely, Miss Harding?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “I know you are not one of them.”

  Caroline drew in a sharp breath. She thought she’d been so careful, addressing every last detail. Clothes. Hair. Attitude. “How . . . how do you know?”

  “It’s not a bad thing.” Sally squeezed her arm. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  Oh, but this was terrible. “How am I giving myself away?”

  “You look me in the eye, for one. You also speak to me in a respectful tone.” She let out a short laugh. “At this point, due to my impertinence, you should be tossing me out of this room, but instead you are waiting to hear what else I have to say. You are good, Miss Harding, and very kind. Those qualities can’t be faked and are rarely seen among the wealthy set in New York. Not from my experience, anyway.”

  Caroline wa
s many things, but she’d never thought of herself as either good or kind. In her experience, such qualities equaled weakness. And weakness was a death sentence in Whitechapel.

  “Whatever you are planning,” Sally continued, “you will be better off playing to your strengths.”

  Caroline tapped a fingertip to her lips, her mind running through the decisions she’d made over the last few weeks. She had been playing to her strengths, or so she’d thought. She’d used her keen mind to gather information about her enemy. She’d meticulously planned every detail of her entry into her grandfather’s world, down to what clothes to wear and when. But now this hotel maid claimed she’d missed the mark.

  “All right, Sally, since you seem to have me all figured out. What are my strengths?”

  Not at all insulted by Caroline’s flat tone, Sally dropped her hand and stepped back. “You have a unique ability to make people around you feel important, as though they matter.”

  “I . . . do?”

  “You are doing it now, by asking a hotel maid for advice. Anyone else in your position would ignore me completely, but you treat me as someone of worth. No.” Sally shook her head vehemently. “You are not one of them. I’d stake my life on it.”

  Caroline’s heart lurched. “But I have to make them think I belong.” Her grandfather must not discern her reasons for getting close to them, not at first.

  Definitely not tonight.

  “Well, then, I suggest you be yourself—charming, kind. Likable. Speak to the other guests the way you speak to me. They will have no other choice but to love you.”

  Love her. Another sliver of longing slipped past her defenses. No. No. She couldn’t allow herself to hope for something so out of reach. This pursuit wasn’t about love, or acceptance. Or even belonging. It was about righting a wrong, about making a man pay for his sins. A man who’d embraced his granddaughter Elizabeth while he’d abandoned his own daughter to the mean streets of London.

  Richard St. James must pay. He must.

  What will you do after you’ve exacted your revenge?

  Caroline didn’t know the answer to that question. In truth, she hadn’t bothered thinking that far ahead. She knew she could never go back to living on the London streets. Where she would go when this was over, she couldn’t say.

  Thankfully, Sally’s voice broke through her thoughts before she could contemplate the problem any longer. “You don’t want them to love you, do you? You want something else entirely.”

  How much should she tell this girl? Cautious to the bone, for very good reasons, Caroline knew better than to reveal her plan to a stranger. Thus, she spoke in generalities. “I simply want them to think I’m one of them. That’s all for now.”

  A thoughtful expression in her gaze, Sally nodded. “There’s no denying you look the part. You sound like one of them, too.”

  Caroline sighed. Of course she looked and sounded like an educated woman of class and substance. Libby St. James had taught Caroline herself, focusing on the various traits one would expect in a highborn lady. A well-worn, beloved Bible had been her primer.

  When Sally held her silence, blinking at her with a measured gaze, Caroline took the maid’s arm and directed her into the tiny parlor of her suite. “Looking and sounding the part aren’t enough, are they?”

  “No.” Sally shook her head. “Of course, with the right dress and the proper hairstyle you’ve won half the battle.”

  Winning half the battle, or even the full battle, wasn’t her goal. Caroline wanted to win the war. According to Sally, she needed a new approach, one she should have thought of before now.

  This maid was the key. What better way to know how the upper class acted than to learn from someone who witnessed their activity on a daily basis?

  “Sally, how long have you worked at this hotel?”

  “Nearly four years. I worked in a private home a year before that.” A shadow fell over her face. “I was the personal maid for the lady of the house.”

  There was a story there, but Caroline didn’t think Sally would reveal the details if she asked. Not with that closed expression on her face. “Would you say you’ve had considerable experience with the wealthy men and women of New York?”

  Sally snorted in disdain. “I would, indeed.”

  Definitely a story there.

  “What am I doing wrong?” The question was as much an admission of her role as an imposter as if she’d come out and said as much aloud.

  Sally smiled then, her wily look reminding Caroline of the young pickpockets in Whitechapel. They had the same happy expression as this girl, right after a successful pinch. “Nothing that can’t be addressed over time.”

  An image of Jackson Montgomery materialized in her mind, and a shiver slipped along her skin. She remembered well the shrewd look in his eyes both times they’d met. He would surely be at the dinner tonight, watching for any mistake she might make. She would have to be smarter than him. “I don’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

  Only a few hours.

  Was it too late? Had she already blown her chance to ruin her grandfather before she’d even met the man and discovered his weakness, the one thing—whatever that one thing was—that would destroy him in the same way he’d destroyed her mother?

  Caroline wouldn’t hurt her grandfather directly; that would make her no better than he. Instead, she would allow him to destroy himself. She would use the same strategy she did with the arrogant wealthy gentlemen who came to gaming clubs, the ones who overplayed their hands and didn’t know when to quit. Greed, it was a powerful motivator and at the root of most men’s downfalls.

  “Sally, do you think you could teach me where I’m making my largest mistakes by this evening? I’d pay for your services.”

  “I don’t want your money, Miss Harding. But I would consider it a joy to work with you.”

  “You must let me reimburse you somehow. If not money, then some other way.”

  “Perhaps you could speak with the manager and request my exclusive services during your stay?”

  The request had Caroline wondering what the other guests expected from a pretty young maid like Sally. Surely there were some requests, perhaps from the males, that were decidedly unpleasant. She even supposed many of the female guests were difficult as well, perhaps openly rude.

  Caroline would ask Sally about the particulars of her job and her life. One day. But now was not the time. The clock was ticking, and they had only a handful of hours to prepare.

  “If I make arrangements with the hotel manager, would you be willing to start immediately?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss Harding. Absolutely.”

  “Excellent.” She smiled. “Under the circumstances, I think you should call me Caroline.”

  “I will not.” Sally shook her head at Caroline, obviously disappointed in her. “A maid never addresses her mistress by her given name.”

  “Well, then.” Caroline tried to look stern. “We’ll call that my first lesson.”

  That made the girl laugh, just a little, enough to let Caroline know she’d won herself an ally, if not a friend. The realization made her miss dear Mary more than ever.

  “You are a quick learner, Miss Harding. I’ll give you that.”

  She had to be. “Thank you, Sally.” Caroline tightened the belt around her robe and added a hint of snobbery to her tone. “While I get dressed for the day, please seek out the hotel manager and inform the man I would like a word with him.”

  Instead of doing as she was told, Sally stood rooted to the spot. When Caroline simply stared at her, the maid angled her head and gave her a look of impatience.

  “What now?”

  “Miss Harding.” Sally blew out a slow rush of air. “A woman in your position would never dress herself.”

  “But that’s absurd. I’m in the privacy of my own room. Who will know?”

  “You will know.”

  The point was a valid one. Even alone, Caroline must play her role. With that in
mind, she threw her shoulders back. “Allow me to rephrase my request. Once you have helped me dress, you will inform the hotel manager that I wish to speak with him about an important matter.”

  “Yes, Miss Harding.”

  Caroline moved to the dressing table and sat. Eyes focused on her image in the vanity, she grabbed her hairbrush without looking down and handed it to Sally over her shoulder.

  The maid got immediately to work.

  Holding back a smile, Caroline watched Sally arrange her long dark hair into a beautiful, fashionable twist. The girl had considerable skills, and Caroline liked her more as each moment passed. “I will wear the green-striped walking dress today.”

  “An excellent choice, miss. I will see to it at once.”

  Before turning away to retrieve the garment, Sally caught her eye in the mirror and winked. The gesture spoke volumes. Caroline was on the right track at last.

  She only hoped her efforts would be enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson arrived at the Harvard Club twenty minutes ahead of his scheduled meeting with Luke. Welcoming the time alone, he strode along the dimly lit corridors, hardly taking note of the décor, his mind hastening through the events of the previous evening. Nothing had gone as planned, not his conversation with Warren Griffin or his interaction with his future bride.

  Uneasiness spread through him, and he quickened his pace.

  Was he experiencing a case of cold feet? Was that the cause of this sudden void in his heart?

  That had to be the reason.

  The sooner he made an offer for Elizabeth’s hand, the sooner they could set a date. His life would be back on course. Nothing stood in the way anymore, nothing except this odd sense of uneasiness that refused to release him. Bad timing, that, since he planned to speak with Richard St. James that very afternoon. He would eventually request Elizabeth’s hand from her father, Marcus, as that had always been the plan. But out of deference for his business relationship with Richard, Jackson wanted to approach the elder St. James first. Once he had Richard’s blessing, he would seek out Marcus’s as well.

  Jackson anticipated both conversations going well. After all, the engagement between him and Elizabeth had been understood for years.