by Jen Turano
“She’s more opposed to the aristocratic societal nonsense she found in London over the society we have to contend with here in the states. I think her brief time as the Countess of Strafford gave her a more-than-distasteful view of the airs people adopted over in England to prove their superiority over the common man. She was thought of as an upstart young lady from America whose father used his fortune to secure his daughter a title while providing the Earl of Strafford with enough money to get his estates back in fine form.” Gilbert shook his head. “My mother loathed her time in England. And since my father was old enough to be her grandfather at the time she married him, I’ve always believed she was rather relieved when he died before I was born, giving her a way out of a life she despised.”
“Do you still think about how your life would have turned out if your father had not died before you were born?”
Gilbert reached for her hand, taking hold of it exactly as he’d done too many times to count when he and Temperance used to discuss the circumstances of his birth. “I’ve stopped imagining my life as the son of an earl. I finally realized that my father, being over sixty before I was born, would not have been the father I used to dream he would have been to me. In all likelihood, I wouldn’t have seen him much. But because my mother abandoned England not long after I was born and brought me to the states, much to my half brother’s delight since I’m all but convinced he was embarrassed by my mother’s marriage to his father, I was able to grow up relatively normal. Add in that my mother then married a salt-of-the-earth type of gentleman in Mr. William Beckwith, and I have to believe my life became much improved over what it would have been if I’d been raised in England. I would have certainly always been known as the son of an important man, yet only a second son. And I would not have been expected to make anything of myself and would have probably turned into the worst type of reprobate.”
Temperance laughed. “You don’t have the temperament of a reprobate. If you’ll recall, I’ve known you since we could barely walk, and even back then, you were always one to abide by every rule. Reprobates, if you’ll recall, don’t care for rules.”
“You do have a bothersome way of ruining a perfectly lovely story.”
“Thinking of you as a reprobate is not lovely, simply amusing, but since the train is now pulling directly into the depot, allow us to discontinue this conversation until later.” She walked back to the table and pulled out his traveling bag. “I’ll leave your satchel for you to fetch since I know you don’t want me to get another look at your list.”
“Since you don’t seem keen to put stock in my list, by all means, look away.”
She smiled. “I think it would be best if I allow you to retain your dignity, because you must know that my looking over a list of what I’ll certainly consider questionable attributes you’ve given yourself will not benefit our friendship in the least. And—” she held up her hand when he opened his mouth—“to avoid an argument, allow me to deftly turn the conversation to what your plans are regarding Clementine, Wayne, and Fanny Flowerdew.”
Resisting the urge to point out yet again how bothersome she could be, Gilbert walked over to the table, stuffed his list into his satchel, slung the strap over his shoulder, and shrugged. “I sent Fanny a return telegram while you were composing your telegram to Miss Henrietta, telling her I was taking the next train back to New York. Because of that, I imagine I’ll mosey on over to their residence tomorrow to see what they have to say for themselves.”
“Why would you extend Fanny the courtesy of allowing her to know you were returning to New York?”
“It was a strategic move on my part and has probably caused them to begin composing an elaborate tale, one filled to the gills with all manner of fabrications as they struggle to get their stories straight.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand how allowing them time to get their stories straight can be a strategic move on your part.”
Gilbert arched a brow. “I use strategies like that all the time in my business endeavors, especially when I feel as if everything isn’t aboveboard. By giving them time to fabricate additional stories, I’ve allowed them to embrace a false sense of security. I didn’t mention anything in my telegram about finding you, so they have no way of knowing I’m on to their lies. That will give me the advantage of surprise, one I’ll use after they’ve had an opportunity to really dig themselves into holes by expanding on details they’re probably even now inventing, but details I know to be false.”
“I think you’re underestimating my relatives. They’re far more cunning than you imagine them to be, and they might have gone further than simply fabricating additional story points. You may very well find a man of the cloth lurking in the shadows of their drawing room, ready to step in and help you and Clementine say some vows when you’re least expecting it.”
“And I think you’re underestimating me by believing I’d allow myself to be taken in by your relatives more than once. I’m well aware that I was played the fool, but I have no intention of experiencing that again. Frankly, I wouldn’t be opposed to never speaking with your relatives again. But because I’m now aware of the abuse they sent your way, I’m afraid they’ve earned a bit of discomfort, and don’t think for a minute you can talk me out of that.”
“I wasn’t planning on talking you out of that. If you’ll recall, I spent hours enclosed in a coffin because of my relatives. I also might have been forced to marry you if Fanny’s aunt hadn’t been so discreet in running us to ground outside the Palmer House.”
“You’re still going to have to marry me.”
“And you’re going to have to stop bringing that up,” she countered right as the squeal of the brakes sounded and the train slowed and came to a complete stop.
Taking his traveling bag from her, Gilbert gestured her toward the door, not bothering to continue with their argument because Temperance was looking stubborn again. Following her out of the Pullman car, he took her arm as he joined her on the platform, looking around to get his bearings.
Grand Central Depot was always a little overwhelming, what with the trains pulling into the closed building, the sound lending another level of chaos to all the many people jostling about. That no one had ever considered trying to direct the crowd in any sort of logical fashion always amazed Gilbert, but since now was hardly the moment to concern himself with the logistics of how to manage the crowds more effectively, he tightened his grip on Temperance’s arm.
Steering her rather forcefully through the station while dodging steam coming from idling trains, and then dodging people who were obviously late for their departures, they finally reached the doors to the depot. Nodding to a man who was holding the door open for them, they moved to the sidewalk right before Temperance let out a laugh of delight.
“I knew she would be waiting for us. Miss Henrietta! Over here.”
Before Gilbert could stop her, Temperance was off, waving at Miss Henrietta Huxley, who was smiling and waving back, her sister, Miss Mabel Huxley, waving as well. An older gentleman Gilbert was not acquainted with was already moving in Temperance’s direction, and to Gilbert’s surprise, that gentleman picked Temperance straight off her feet, swung her around, then set her back down. He immediately tugged the bottom of his jacket back into place, and inclined his head in a way that left Gilbert suspecting that the man might be the Huxley sisters’ famed butler, Mr. Barclay, a man Temperance had mentioned often on their long journey, and a man she held in high esteem.
Taking a step toward the reunion unfolding in front of him, Gilbert suddenly froze on the spot when someone called out his name, someone who sounded remarkably like Miss Clementine Flowerdew.
He forced himself to turn in the direction of the voice, wincing as Clementine, her parents, Wayne and Fanny Flowerdew, and two other young ladies he’d met during his stay in Newport, Miss Ava Appleton and Miss Melissa Wells, came into view.
The entire group was waving madly at him, beaming bright smiles his way.
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Returning his gaze to Clementine, he blinked as his gaze settled on the yellow of her gown, a color that had his lips curving. When he realized the Flowerdews and Clementine’s friends were obviously expecting him to join them, and finding himself beyond curious as to what they could possibly say to him, Gilbert began striding their way, stopping directly in front of Clementine.
He was completely taken aback when she threw herself at him and wrapped her arms securely around his waist. She then proceeded to hold him tight for far longer than propriety allowed.
Temperance’s warning immediately sprang to mind, the one she’d only recently uttered about not underestimating her relatives. Calling himself every type of fool for allowing the Flowerdews to know when he was returning, he practically had to pry Clementine off him. Opening his mouth, although he wasn’t exactly certain what words he should allow to escape, he was denied any words at all when Clementine folded her hands demurely in front of her right before she launched into what was clearly a well-rehearsed bit of nonsense.
“I cannot thank you enough, Gilbert,” she began, her use of his given name having Miss Appleton and Miss Wells exchanging significant looks. “That you’d drop everything to come to my aid and travel all the way to Chicago warms my heart no small amount. I’m simply sorry your trip was all for naught since I was able to free myself from the clutches of madmen, although by the time I made my escape and traveled back to my home, my mother had already received that ransom letter and had sent you off to rescue me.”
It took every ounce of restraint Gilbert had at his disposal to resist breaking into applause over what was one of the most ridiculous stories he’d ever heard. “You managed to free yourself from your abductors?” he asked slowly.
Clementine’s eyes widened right before she began batting her lashes. “I did, even though I was frightened for my very life during my escape.” Another batting of lashes came his way before she raised a hand to her throat. “You cannot imagine the terror I felt as this criminal made off with me, plucking me straight off that street as I was simply traveling to the Family Dance Academy to learn a new quadrille.”
She went from batting her lashes to fluttering them. “Did I mention that I’ve been asked to perform the Opera Bouffe Quadrille? It’s quite the honor for me since that quadrille has been chosen to open the first Patriarch Ball of the year.”
“How delightful” was all he could think to say.
“Oh, it is, and—” Clementine suddenly stopped speaking, her eyes narrowed on something over his shoulder. Her smile slid off her face before she seemed to force it back into place and return her attention to him.
“Is something the matter?’ he asked.
“I thought I saw someone I wasn’t expecting to see here, but I’m sure I was simply mistaken.” The batting of lashes commenced again, until Fanny Flowerdew, Clementine’s mother, let out a gasp, the reason for the gasp becoming all too apparent as Temperance sauntered up to join them.
Chapter
Eight
Finding herself the object of such undivided attention, as well as finding herself pinned under the horrified stares of her relatives, Temperance found she had the most unusual desire to giggle.
She was not a giggler, and had never once been tempted to embrace that habit. But now, when confronted with the idea her Flowerdew cousins might soon be facing the comeuppance they so richly deserved, instead of feeling even a smidgen of satisfaction, she felt the urge to giggle, or perhaps, better yet, release a completely unladylike snort.
“I’m telling you, Ava, that is Temperance Flowerdew, evidently here to welcome Mr. Cavendish home as well, although . . . why do you imagine she’s chosen to dress in a color everyone knows Clementine favors?”
Tearing her gaze from Clementine, who was now looking more horrified than ever as her attention settled on the yellow dress in question, one that certainly didn’t fit Temperance since the bodice was too large and the hem too short, she found Miss Ava Appleton and Miss Melissa Wells looking her up and down.
The sheer speculation resting in the ladies’ eyes was reason for concern, but since she certainly couldn’t do anything about being perused by two of the biggest gossips within society, nor would she be able to stem any of the gossip they may choose to spread about their encounter with her, she settled for sending them a nod before she turned her gaze on Gilbert.
The urge to giggle or snort immediately returned when she noticed he was looking rather wild about the eyes. He certainly didn’t seem to be in a state of mind where he’d be capable of lending her any support since he’d apparently been struck mute by the sheer unlikeliness of the scene unfolding around him.
Knowing it was going to be up to her to make the first move, Temperance returned her attention to her relatives, none of whom seemed remotely glad to see her.
“What a delightful surprise to find all of you at the train depot at exactly this particular moment in time,” she chirped in a voice that was downright cheerful, the cheerfulness evidently responsible for the immediate cessation of whispering between Miss Appleton and Miss Wells.
“I’m anything but delighted to find you here, Temperance, and can’t even begin to fathom why you’d follow us to the train station,” Clementine all but hissed as her cheeks began to mottle.
“I didn’t follow you. I just departed from a train.”
“And we’ve missed you dreadfully while you were away in Florida,” Wayne suddenly said, speaking up as he stepped forward and sent her a smile that she assumed was meant to be one of fondness, but came across more on the lines of frightening since he seemed to be gritting his teeth while attempting to smile. He was also glaring at her, as if to dare her to contradict him, but she was unable to respond at all when Clementine suddenly plunked her hands on her hips.
“Why would she get to go off to Florida, and why wasn’t I offered a trip to the ocean?”
“Not now, dear,” Wayne said between still gritted teeth, not even bothering to glance in his daughter’s direction as he continued glaring Temperance’s way.
Having seen that specific glare often over the past three years, and not appreciating being glared at in the first place since she’d done absolutely nothing to deserve it, Temperance lifted her chin. “You know perfectly well I’ve not been to Florida, Wayne, nor, if you’re about to spout another ridiculous idea, was I gallivanting about, enjoying a courtship with some gentleman who came straight from your disturbed imagination.”
A tic began to throb on Wayne’s temple. “Your impertinence does not show you in a favorable light.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t, just as I’m sure learning I was in Chicago is not going to have a favorable effect on whatever new schemes you, Fanny, and Clementine have decided to pursue.”
Fanny began waving her hand in front of her face. “You were in Chicago?”
Temperance nodded. “I was, and you’ll never believe who I encountered at the Palmer House.”
Fanny immediately turned to Miss Appleton and Miss Wells. “If you ladies will excuse us for just the tiniest second, I’m afraid we have some family matters to discuss of a private nature.”
Without allowing Miss Appleton or Miss Wells an opportunity to respond, even though they clearly weren’t keen to be abandoned during such a juicy conversation, Fanny took hold of Temperance’s arm and began pulling her down the sidewalk, not stopping until they reached a spot devoid of people.
Looking around, Temperance found Miss Henrietta, Miss Mabel, and Mr. Barclay, the Huxley’s butler, stepping closer, but she shook her head ever so slightly, causing them to stop a discreet distance away. Since Miss Henrietta and her sister were well adept at reading lips, Temperance knew the sisters would be watching every word that slipped out of her relatives’ mouths, and that they would be more than willing to step in if they thought Temperance was in over her head.
Once Wayne and Clementine joined them, minus Gilbert who’d been waylaid by Miss Appleton and Miss Wells, both of who
m were clutching Gilbert’s arms as they began peppering him with questions, Temperance reluctantly directed her attention to Wayne, who was now bristling with anger.
“Explain yourself,” he demanded.
“I don’t believe I’m the one who needs to do any explaining.” Temperance crossed her arms over her chest. “If anything, I deserve an apology since I was snatched straight off the street, the victim of a case of mistaken identity, although”—she nodded to Clementine—“that was a riveting tale you told Gilbert about how you managed to escape from your abductors when you and I know you were never abducted in the first place.”
Clementine’s face blanched. “How do you know I told Gilbert that? You’d yet to join us when I imparted that information.”
“Miss Henrietta has made it a point to become more than proficient with reading lips. She was watching you when you were speaking with Gilbert, then told me what you’d said.”
With eyes turning as big as saucers, Clementine began looking around, stilling when Miss Henrietta sent her a cheeky wave. Shuddering, she looked back at Temperance as Wayne and Fanny turned their backs on Miss Henrietta, their obvious attempt at depriving her of further lipreading having Temperance forcing down the laughter that was bubbling up her throat.
“What is that busybody doing here?” Clementine asked.
“She came to give me a ride home after I sent her a telegram telling her I was alive and well and traveling back to New York after an unexpected journey to Chicago.” Temperance pressed her lips together to keep from smiling when she saw Miss Mabel strolling ever so casually past them, apparently taking up a new position to keep a closer eye on the situation.
“You should have not involved Miss Henrietta Huxley in our personal affairs,” Wayne said as Fanny nodded in agreement.