by Jen Turano
“Well, you should not have come up with such a ridiculous plan to force Gilbert into a marriage with your daughter,” Temperance countered before she smiled. “I should warn you that Miss Henrietta, after I went missing, took it upon herself to hire a Pinkerton detective to investigate what happened to me. There’s no telling what that man may have discovered. But the Pinkerton men are known to be thorough in their investigations, so it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to learn they’ve uncovered some of your secrets, especially secrets pertaining to an ill-conceived abduction attempt.”
Wayne’s eyes narrowed even as his face began to darken. “You listen here, girlie, if you think for one second I’m going to . . .” His voice trailed away to nothing when Fanny suddenly gripped his arm before she began smiling far too pleasantly at someone over Wayne’s shoulder.
Temperance glanced that way and found Gilbert striding up to join them, his face set in an expression that could only be described as furious. Stopping directly beside her, he reached out, gave her arm a squeeze, then set his sights on Wayne, who took a step backward.
“Your days of abusing Temperance have come to an end, Wayne,” he said, every word holding more than a hint of hostility.
“I’m surprised you’d be so gullible as to allow yourself to be taken in by my cousin,” Wayne began. “She’s clearly been feeding you some outlandish lies about me.”
Gilbert’s eyes flashed. “Temperance was never one to lie, although, clearly, that can’t be said for everyone in your family.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re implying.”
Gilbert smiled. “I’m sure you do, but since I’ve just had a most illuminating conversation with Miss Appleton and Miss Wells, one that revolved around me disabusing them of the notion they needed to congratulate me on my upcoming nuptials to Clementine, I decided it was past time for me to set the record straight.”
“You didn’t tell Miss Appleton and Miss Wells we’re not going to get married, did you?” Clementine all but whispered.
The fine hair on the nape of Temperance’s neck stood to attention when Gilbert’s smile widened, even though the temper in his eyes increased.
“I do hate to disappoint ladies, Miss Flowerdew, but I must admit that I did make it abundantly clear to Miss Appleton and Miss Wells that their felicitations as pertained to my matrimonial state were misplaced.” He inclined his head. “You see, while I do have every intention of speaking vows in the not-too-distant future, I’m afraid they won’t be spoken with you, but with the woman I’ve decided I simply cannot live without—your darling cousin, Temperance.”
“I believe that went rather well,” Gilbert said an hour later as he walked beside Temperance down the long marble hallway of Miss Snook’s School for the Education of the Feminine Mind.
“How could that have gone well?” Temperance argued, slapping away the hand Gilbert was trying to wrap around her arm. “You allowed Miss Appleton and Miss Wells to believe you and I are getting married, while allowing my cousins to believe that nonsense as well.”
Gilbert smiled. “You’re simply irritated because you didn’t want to accept the idea we’d have to get married after spending time alone in Chicago, but now realize I’ve been right about the matter all along.”
“No one who came to meet us at the train station knew the particulars of what happened during our little foray into Chicago, and we should have kept it that way,” Temperance muttered. “I cannot begin to tell you how annoyed I am with you for making such a muddle of things and have no idea why you would have allowed everyone to believe you and I are getting married.”
“I must say I’m annoyed with the situation as well,” Miss Henrietta said, walking briskly up to join them. “I was so looking forward to taking you in hand, Temperance, and now you’ve gone and ruined all of my fun.” She smiled at Gilbert. “Do know, though, dear, that you were a part of my plan from the moment I laid eyes on you at Permilia and Asher’s engagement celebration. I would, however, have appreciated being allowed to participate more fully in seeing that plan to fruition.”
Gilbert stopped in his tracks. “I was part of your plan?”
“Indeed, but now that you and Temperance have apparently settled matters between you, I’ll have to turn my attention elsewhere.”
Temperance threw up her hands. “Gilbert and I have not settled any matters between us. I was taken as much by surprise as my cousins when he informed them we were to be married.”
Miss Henrietta smoothed a stray strand of white hair away from her face. “I have no inkling as to why you’d be surprised that the two of you need to marry. You admitted you were waylaid by Mrs. Boggart Hobbes while you were in Chicago, a society matron known to be one of the strictest abiders of the proprieties New York has ever seen.”
“And as I tried to explain on the carriage ride here,” Temperance began, “before you, Miss Henrietta, decided to take another one of your hair-raising shortcuts that left me incapable of speech as we were in danger for our very lives, Mrs. Boggart Hobbes is not a threat. I highly doubt she would have said so much as a peep about recognizing me in Chicago because she knows Clementine wants Gilbert for herself.”
Miss Henrietta lifted her chin. “My driving did not put anyone’s life at risk.” She turned and arched a brow at Mr. Barclay, who was following them down the hallway. “Were you in fear for your life?”
Mr. Barclay inclined his head. “I’m sure you know I always close my eyes and descend into prayer when you insist on taking the reins, Miss Henrietta. And on that note, I do think I’ll go see about getting some fresh tea, a wonderful tonic if there ever was one to soothe overwrought nerves, those nerves brought about by your superb handling of the carriage through side alleys that really ought to be avoided.”
“He truly is a most remarkable gentleman,” Temperance said as Mr. Barclay beat a hasty retreat while Miss Henrietta watched him with a fond smile on her face. “And should be given a fortune when he retires for simply putting up with you and Miss Mabel all these years.”
Miss Henrietta waved that aside. “Mr. Barclay already possesses a respectable fortune, having taken his salary and invested it wisely over the years he’s worked for Mabel and me. Why, the man could have retired years ago, but has chosen to remain in his position because he believes it keeps him young.”
“He’d remain much younger if he simply refused to get into a buggy with you holding the reins.”
“I wonder where my sister went?” Miss Henrietta asked, completely ignoring Temperance’s last remark.
“I’m right here, Henrietta,” Miss Mabel said, walking down the hallway while waving a piece of parchment in her hand. “I stopped to look at all the calling cards and letters on the tray in the entranceway that we neglected to sort through today, and good thing I did.” She stopped directly next to her sister. “There’s a note here from Miss Edwina Sinclair, stating that she and Agent McParland are thankful we allowed the Pinkerton Agency to know Temperance had been found alive and well. She also mentioned that Agent McParland has uncovered something Temperance might find interesting, so she and Agent McParland will be paying a visit here tomorrow at noon.”
“Is Edwina still pursuing the idea of becoming a female Pinkerton detective?” Gilbert asked.
“Indeed,” Miss Mabel said. “But why are we lingering in the hallway when we have such a delightful library only a few steps away from us, one I know has a cheery fire already lit in the fireplace and comfortable places for us to sit?” She smiled at Temperance. “I still have many questions to ask about your adventure, dear, and questions pertaining to the plans I know we’ll need to begin making regarding yet another engagement celebration.”
Before Temperance could argue with that, Miss Mabel and Miss Henrietta breezed forward, disappearing into the library.
“This is not going to be pleasant,” Temperance muttered as Gilbert grinned back at her, his delight in evidently believing he’d gotten his way causing annoyance to sl
ide over her once again. Sending him a scowl, she walked into the library, her annoyance disappearing in a split second when she was greeted by a gathering of young women who were students at Miss Snook’s school, all of whom crowded around Temperance to welcome her home.
Not all the students who attended the school lived on the premises, but when Miss Henrietta had learned that many of the young women who’d chosen to better themselves by attending classes had been turned out from their positions as maids, factory workers, and nannies, she’d generously offered her old home as a place for those women to stay. She didn’t charge them rent in exchange for a room, only the expectation that they’d excel in their studies and perhaps lend a hand around the mansion turned school since there was much to do to keep the place in a good state of repair.
That Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel had given Miss Snook the use of their mansion to use as premises for a school spoke volumes about how the sisters had come to loathe the house their reprobate of a father had built for them. From what little Temperance knew about their father, he’d been a vile man—so vile in fact that he’d had more than one wife stashed about the city, each wife unaware of the others until Mr. Huxley had decided to bring everyone together, expecting them to live in houses right next to the mansion Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel had called home.
The sisters had finally come to terms with the unpleasant secrets of their past. And after coming to those terms, they’d moved out of the mansion on Broadway and back to a house next to Gramercy Park where they’d spent happier times during their youth. But while Miss Mabel enjoyed living in that home, Miss Henrietta spent many a night in the school. She’d been delighted to take over the role of house mother, although she’d completely redecorated her personal suite of rooms, as well as tossed all memories of her father straight into the trash.
“. . . and I personally made the sugar cakes,” a young woman by the name of Bernice Small said as she brandished a platter of bite-sized cakes, all of which had been decorated with brightly colored icing. “I know how you enjoy my cakes.”
With her heart turning warm at such an unexpected greeting, Temperance soon found herself sitting in a chair in front of a small table, a sheer mountain of treats placed in front of her to sample.
Not being a lady who ever refused a meal, especially not one of the decadent type, Temperance spent the next few minutes trying every treat she’d been given as Miss Henrietta introduced Gilbert to all the women.
Her irritation with him completely disappeared when he went out of his way to put the women at ease, taking time to kiss each woman’s hand, even though the women seemed completely taken aback by the gesture.
After every woman had made Gilbert’s acquaintance, they then took their leave, but not before sending Temperance smiles and winks of approval. She pretended she didn’t notice, convinced it would not aid her situation in the least to acknowledge the idea that everyone seemed to find Gilbert more than charming.
Handing him a plate stacked with treats, Temperance picked up her plate again as Gilbert took a chair beside her, while Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel situated themselves on a fainting couch.
“So,” Miss Henrietta began after she’d nibbled her way around the edges of one of Bernice’s cakes. “When is the wedding?”
Temperance paused with a fork filled with cake halfway to her mouth. “Should I assume we’re not talking about Gertrude’s wedding to Harrison or Permilia’s wedding to Asher?”
“You’re trying my patience,” Miss Henrietta said before leveling her gaze on Gilbert as she sent him a nod. “Perhaps it would expedite the conversation if you answer all my questions from this point forward.”
Gilbert smiled. “I’m afraid Temperance and I haven’t sorted out all the pesky details just yet, having only recently decided we should wed.”
Setting aside her cake, Temperance sat forward. “We never decided to wed. If you’ll recall, I said there was no reason to wed, while also pointing out that there’s every likelihood we’ll murder each other if any vows are spoken between us because we are not well suited for marriage.”
“I think you suit admirably together,” Miss Mabel said, smiling as Mr. Barclay entered the room carrying a silver tray that had a silver teapot on it. “Ah, lovely, fresh tea, and do say you’ll join us in a cup, Mr. Barclay. We were just about to delve into the planning of yet another engagement celebration, and this time with our darling Temperance as the future bride.”
To Temperance’s surprise and relief, Mr. Barclay set down the tray right before he leveled a stern eye on Miss Mabel. “It seems to me that Miss Temperance is not overly excited about this peculiar engagement situation with Mr. Cavendish. And since she has no family to look after her best interests except for us, allow me to point out that you two”—he nodded to Miss Mabel and then to Miss Henrietta—“are not helping her by badgering her into a marriage she clearly has no desire to enter.” He lifted his chin. “Because of that, I’m hereby stating that I’m firmly on her side and will now take on the daunting role of being the voice of reason in this most disturbing situation.”
Mr. Barclay walked over to a chair close to Temperance and sat down, evidently forgetting all about the tea he’d neglected to serve.
Gilbert, being a gentleman who noticed whenever something was amiss, rose to his feet, made short shrift of pouring out the tea, then handed the cups all around, smiling ever so slightly when he handed a cup to Mr. Barclay and was rewarded for his efforts with a scowl.
For the briefest of moments, silence settled over the library until Temperance sat forward.
“While I understand that Gilbert and I broke practically every rule of propriety there is, I’m not of the belief we need to get married since I know Mrs. Boggart Hobbes will not carry tales from Chicago to New York. However—” she narrowed her eyes at Gilbert—“because you told Miss Appleton and Miss Wells we are to marry, the situation has turned a little concerning. Which is why I’m going to ask everyone in this room to come up with a plan that will see us released from any matrimonial expectations.”
“I think that ship has sailed,” Miss Henrietta said. “You mark my words, Miss Appleton and Miss Wells are even now spreading the tale of your engagement, which will make it impossible for the two of you not to wed.”
“You’ll make a beautiful bride,” Miss Mabel remarked. “Although I do believe it might be for the best if a formal announcement isn’t made until after Gertrude’s engagement celebration, which is to be held here in a little less than two weeks if anyone has forgotten. We wouldn’t want to detract from her special day, so perhaps you should make the formal announcement a week after that celebration. That will give us plenty of time to plan another ball.”
“We’re not planning a ball, and . . .” Temperance stopped speaking when a perfectly reasonable solution to their dilemma popped to mind. She turned to Gilbert. “Where are your parents?”
“In India,” he said, his eyes narrowing as if he’d already figured out where she was going with her question.
“And when are they are expected to return?”
“Not for a few months.”
She sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, there you have it—a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why we cannot announce an engagement. Gilbert’s mother, Florence Beckwith, is a somewhat frightening woman. I’d hate to think of the animosity she’d hold toward me forevermore if I were to allow an engagement announcement to be made without her having prior knowledge that Gilbert and I were considering marriage. In order to save the perfectly friendly relationship I’ve always shared with Gilbert’s mother, having known her practically from birth, we’ll simply tell anyone who asks that we’re waiting to formally announce our future plans until we obtain the blessing of Gilbert’s beloved mother.”
“That’s a stretch and you know it,” Gilbert said.
“It may be a stretch, but by the time your parents arrive back in the country, no one will even remember we were supposed
to be engaged, thus saving us a trip down the altar and a life of regrets in the end.”
Chapter
Nine
“Are you quite certain we’re talking about the same Temperance Flowerdew, a delightful friend of my Gertrude, but a young lady I’ve never thought of as being an overly stubborn sort?”
Pulling Blaze, his positively ancient horse, to a stop in the middle of a gravel path in Central Park, Gilbert shifted in the saddle, directing his attention to his very good friend, Mr. Harrison Sinclair. The sight of his friend brought an immediate grin to his face.
Harrison was a gentleman known for embracing a somewhat curious sense of style, and today was no exception. His jacket, while fitting his muscular frame to perfection, was crafted out of material that had large stripes of orange running down it, and he’d paired that jacket with green trousers that were tucked into knee-high riding boots that could stand a bit of a polishing. His hair, always kept a touch longer than was fashionable, was tied at the nape of his neck with a bit of blue ribbon, one Gilbert thought might have at one time been worn by Harrison’s lovely fiancée, Miss Gertrude Cadwalader.
That Gertrude apparently took no issue with Harrison’s preference for unusual fashions spoke volumes about her true character. And because she’d also made it known she enjoyed Harrison’s peculiar sense of style, there was little likelihood Harrison would ever abandon his habit of pairing plaids, stripes, and mismatching colors, since he did enjoy indulging his soon-to-be wife.
“I don’t know how Temperance has managed to fool everyone in the city about her stubborn nature, but believe me, she’s downright contrary at times, and this, unfortunately, seems to be one of them,” Gilbert said, forcing his attention away from the orange stripes, which were, oddly enough, slightly mesmerizing.
Harrison grinned as he urged Rupert, his beast of a stallion, back into motion. “Admit it, you’re simply put out with her because she’s disrupted whatever plan you’d begun assembling in that far-too-logical mind of yours.”