Caught by Surprise

by Jen Turano

  William caught Gilbert’s eye. “We need to pay this Mr. Howland a visit—the sooner the better. But, before we do that, we should probably move on to the reason we’ve returned from India earlier than expected.”

  “I’m not sure now is exactly the moment for that disclosure, dear,” Florence said.

  Gilbert frowned. “Do forgive me. I didn’t even think to inquire why you’re here, or even how you knew I’d be found at Miss Snook’s school.”

  His mother’s lips quirked. “We stopped by your office, where we, surprisingly enough, were met with a somewhat frazzled Mrs. Martin.”

  “I didn’t tell Mrs. Martin I was coming here,” Gilbert said.

  “Mrs. Martin isn’t the one who told us where to find you.” Florence smiled. “That came from a lovely young woman by the name of Miss Mercy Miner. She came barreling out of the conference room after she heard us speaking with Mrs. Martin, and—”

  “Told you I was here,” Gilbert finished for her.

  “No, first she dragged us into the conference room to watch her new skill with a typewriter, and after we’d apparently given her the proper amount of encouragement, she then disclosed that you were more than likely to be found here.” Florence smiled. “I found her to be a most delightful sort, and . . .” She stopped talking and shook her head. “I fear I’m allowing myself to become distracted because I obviously don’t know how to tell you this news.”

  Gilbert’s stomach sank. “You’re not ill, are you?”

  His mother waved that aside. “Oh, no, I’m fit as a fiddle . . . unlike your half brother.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to disclose the information exactly like that,” William said under his breath, earning a sigh from Florence in response.

  “Quite, but . . .” She stopped talking and drew in a deep breath.

  “May I assume Charles is ill?” Gilbert prompted.

  Florence shook her head as she released the breath. “I’m afraid he’s more than ill, dear. He went missing at sea while racing his yacht, and he’s been declared dead, which means . . . you are now the new Earl of Strafford.”

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON

  Temperance fluffed the last length of draped silk, stretching over the scaffold to reach a pleat that was not fluffed to her satisfaction.

  “It is a fortuitous circumstance that your darling Gilbert isn’t present,” a voice called up to her, the unexpected sound having her jump just the tiniest bit as she grabbed hold of the railing.

  Peering down, she found Miss Henrietta peering up at her, shaking her head of white hair, apparently oblivious that she’d almost caused Temperance to plummet straight to the ground.

  “You just scared me half to death,” she called to Miss Henrietta. “It would hardly lend a festive air to Gertrude’s engagement celebration if my poor, mangled body was found lying in the ballroom.”

  “I’ve always believed a good shock is wonderful for the system. Tends to get the blood moving at a fast clip.”

  “You believe no such thing, and I’ll thank you to discontinue calling Gilbert my darling.”

  “I know you’re of the opinion you don’t need to marry him, but since you’ve now been written about in all the newspapers in the city, I’m afraid you’re going to need to change your opinion about that.”

  “What do you mean I’ve been written about in the papers?”

  “Honestly, Miss Henrietta, I thought we agreed we wouldn’t tell Temperance about the articles, which is why I asked Mr. Barclay to hide all the papers.”

  Turning her attention to the doorway, Temperance found Miss Permilia Griswold, one of her dearest friends, strolling into the ballroom, her red hair bundled up in rags, apparently done so by one of the hair stylists Miss Henrietta had hired to assist the ladies who’d decided to prepare for the ball at the school.

  A smile tugged at Temperance’s lips as her gaze traveled over Permilia. While Permilia was usually dressed in the first state of fashion, she was currently wearing a flowing wrapper, albeit one adorned with fashionable feathers, the shade of green exactly matching the paste covering Permilia’s face. That paste, if Temperance wasn’t mistaken, was compliments of Mrs. Davenport, who seemed convinced one of her many missions in life was to smother feminine faces with whatever latest concoction she’d created to hold wrinkles at bay.

  Tearing her attention from Permilia’s green face, she leaned over the scaffold. “Why is everyone determined to hide all the newspapers from me?” she called.

  Permilia tipped her head and settled her gaze on Temperance. “We didn’t want to spoil your evening with what’s been written, although it’s quickly become apparent that not everyone was determined to keep the news from you.”

  “It’s better she’s prepared,” Miss Henrietta argued. “That way no one can spring this unsettling news on her tonight, catching her unaware.” With that, Miss Henrietta pulled out a paper she’d stashed in a pocket of her apron, waving it in Temperance’s direction. “Perhaps you should climb down from there and read one of the articles, dear. It’s not a bad write-up at all, although, again, I do believe you’ll need to readjust your decision about marrying Gilbert. Once news of this sort makes the front page, well, I’m afraid your future has been decided for you.”

  “I made the front page?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Taking a second to make certain each side of her split skirt was still tied securely around each leg so the material wouldn’t get in her way, Temperance hurried down the ladder of the scaffolding, releasing her skirt from the ties once she reached the ground. Shaking out the fabric, she headed for Miss Henrietta, thrusting out a hand once she reached that lady’s side.

  “There’s no need to scowl at me,” Miss Henrietta said, handing over the paper. “I didn’t write the articles.”

  “Yes, but since the reporters who did aren’t available, I’m taking my aggravation out on you.”

  Miss Henrietta smiled. “I do appreciate your blunt honesty and am just tickled to death you’re no longer the mousy and timid young lady I first met.”

  “Considering all the trouble I’ve encountered since abandoning that attitude, I’m not certain I’m as tickled about the re-embracing of my true nature as you are.”

  Permilia moved closer to Temperance and smoothed a hand down her arm. “I appreciate you abandoning your timid attitude as well, Temperance. When I first met you, you rarely spoke, and somehow managed to hide the idea you’re much more on the lines of an adventurous sort than the timid wallflower I found lurking in all the ballrooms.”

  “I can’t argue with any of that since I did spend a lot of my time lurking at all the balls Clementine forced me to attend.” Temperance smiled. “As soon as I reunited with Gilbert, though, I realized I’d lost my sense of self and decided it was past time to reclaim the somewhat adventurous soul I used to be before my parents died.”

  “It’s telling, you making such a decision because of reuniting with Gilbert,” Miss Henrietta said with a knowing nod of her head.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Temperance agreed, which had Miss Henrietta blinking. “But even though I’ve realized he’s more important to me than I cared to admit, his becoming the Earl of Strafford changes everything.”

  Miss Henrietta nodded again. “Well, of course it changes everything. You’re going to become a countess, and there are not many young ladies who’ll ever be able to become that.”

  “But I don’t want to become a countess.”

  “Every lady wants to become a countess, or a princess,” Miss Henrietta argued.

  Temperance smiled. “I’m sure I did want to become a princess at one time, even mentioned to Gilbert a short while back that I always dreamed of a fairy tale whenever I considered marrying. But . . .”

  “Why is there always a but?” Miss Henrietta asked Permilia, who simply smiled and shook her head.

  “There’
s a but in my case because the reality of taking on the role of countess is not one I think I’d enjoy,” Temperance began. “I don’t care to spend the rest of my days having to abide by the strict rules I’m sure a countess is expected to observe from the moment she wakes up in the morning until she goes to bed at night.”

  “I imagine spending the rest of your life with Gilbert would be more than enough compensation for having to follow a few rules here and there,” Miss Henrietta said.

  “This from a lady who freely admits she spies on everyone, speaks her mind even when she knows that it is certain to raise more than a few eyebrows, and . . . well, I could go on and on, but I do believe there are a few newspapers I need to peruse.” With that, Temperance shook open the paper, scanned the front page, and felt her mouth drop open.

  She lifted her head. “Why would Gilbert inheriting a title be considered front-page news?”

  Permilia smiled. “Because society places a great deal of importance on titles. And now that society can claim an earl as one of their members, even though Gilbert has barely attended any society events, all the papers knew they’d sell out of their editions today by splashing the news about his title on the front page.” Her smile dimmed. “Did you not read the part where it mentions you yet?”

  “I’m afraid I got distracted.” She looked back at the article and began to read it out loud. “‘Mr. Gilbert Cavendish, considered one of the most eligible gentlemen in New York, has now taken over the role of The Most Eligible Gentleman. Reliable sources have told us he’s recently inherited an earldom, making him the new Lord Strafford. Those sources also told us he’s now in possession of an impressive castle in the country, a townhome in London, and stables filled with prime horseflesh.’” She frowned. “I wonder who these reliable sources are?”

  Permilia winced. “If you continue reading, I believe that’ll become obvious.”

  Returning to the article, Temperance skimmed over a few sentences, drawing in a sharp breath a second later.

  “What part are you reading, dear?” Miss Henrietta asked, moving closer.

  “‘According to our most reliable source,’” Temperance read out loud, “‘Lord Strafford may not remain as The Most Eligible Gentleman for long because he’s soon to announce his engagement to Miss Temperance Flowerdew, cousin of the beautiful Miss Clementine Flowerdew, who . . .’”

  She thrust the paper back at Miss Henrietta. “I do think I need to nip out for just an hour or so because this time Clementine has gone too far.” She headed for the door, finding her way blocked by Miss Henrietta, who’d charged after her, moving surprisingly fast for a woman of her age.

  “You cannot go have a little chat with Clementine. If you’ve forgotten, there’s a price on your head. And while the Pinkerton detectives are diligently trying to solve the question of who put that price on your head, they’ve been unsuccessful thus far, which means you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Besides,” Permilia added, coming up to join them, “you’ll have plenty of time to speak with Clementine this evening because Gertrude invited her to the ball.” She wiped her chin with a handkerchief because the green concoction on her face seemed to be sliding ever so slowly down her face.

  “Why would she have done that?”

  Miss Henrietta smiled. “Because Gertrude is a kind soul and didn’t want to exclude Clementine from the festivities, especially since your cousin did step in over the past week and assist us with getting this ballroom ready for tonight’s celebration.” Miss Henrietta let out a sigh. “I do wish Clementine’s dreadful aunt, Mrs. Boggart Hobbes, had not whisked the poor girl away from us. It’s my belief that Clementine has potential to be so much more than the insipid young lady she portrays to the world, that unfortunate circumstance a direct result of being raised by parents with lofty social aspirations.”

  Temperance frowned. “How, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion? Clementine clearly sold me out to the papers, which doesn’t exactly lend credence to the notion she has the potential to abandon her nasty disposition.”

  “I believe she contacted the papers as a peculiar way of trying to make matters right with you,” Miss Henrietta said, holding up her hand when Temperance opened her mouth to argue. “And while I understand your reluctance to see the good in her, given the manner in which she treated you over the years, I’ve recently realized that God puts us in certain situations that allow us to see our faults. In Clementine’s case, she found herself benefiting from your kindness of offering her family a place to stay, and that, my dear, must have caused her to look at life a little differently.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, although . . .” Temperance stopped speaking when Eugene walked into the room, carrying an arrangement of flowers.

  “Another delivery has been made, Miss Temperance,” he began. “They’re unloading more down in the kitchen and wanted me to find out where the rest of the arrangements are supposed to be placed.”

  “You may put that one on any table that doesn’t have flowers,” Temperance said. “And I’ll go right now and see what else has been delivered.” She nodded to the scaffold. “Would it be possible for you to take that down for me, Eugene? I’ve finished with it for the day.”

  As Eugene assured her he’d get it down in a jiffy, Temperance made her way out of the ballroom, Permilia by her side, while Miss Henrietta disappeared down another hallway, saying she needed to check on Miss Snook, who’d come down with a nasty cold and was keeping herself well away from everyone.

  “You’re not really going to refuse to marry Gilbert because he’s an earl now, are you?” Permilia asked as they reached the staircase.

  “You seem to be forgetting that Gilbert and I are only pretending we’re engaged, which means it really makes no difference to me if he’s an earl or not, since I wasn’t planning on marrying him in the first place.”

  Permilia arched a single brow and stopped walking. “And clearly you’re forgetting that I’ve been privy to watching you when you’re with Gilbert, and it’s obvious you hold him in high esteem.”

  “True, but we’re simply not well suited for marriage. Add in the fact that I’d rather have a tooth pulled than assume the role of countess, and . . . it’ll be best all around if Gilbert and I figure out a way to gracefully extract ourselves from our pretend engagement, even if all those articles in the papers are going to make that somewhat tricky.”

  “But aren’t you the least little bit curious as to what it would be like to live in a castle?”

  Temperance began to head down the steps. “Living in a castle is not a valid reason to marry someone. And because Gilbert has made himself scarce since learning he inherited a title, I’ve come to the conclusion that he realizes he’s going to need a wife who is up for the challenge of taking on the daunting role of countess, something he knows perfectly well I’d not be very proficient at.”

  Permilia caught up with her after she reached the landing. “I think you’d make a lovely countess.”

  “That is kind of you to say, but no, I wouldn’t.”

  Considering her for a long moment, Permilia released the merest hint of a sigh. “Oh, very well, I’ll stop harping.”

  “You weren’t harping.”

  “I was, but because I don’t want to annoy you further, allow me to deftly turn the conversation to a matter I’ve yet to share with you, even if that matter does pertain to . . . castles.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Permilia laughed. “It’s not what you think. I was simply going to tell you some news that I recently received, news about my father who is in the process of purchasing his very own castle over in Scotland.”

  “Is that why your father has yet to return to New York, and why you and Asher haven’t set a date for your wedding?”

  “It’s one of the reasons we haven’t set a date, although the store has been keeping us so busy that we simply haven’t had the time to plan out a wedding.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t need to
plan a single thing, not with Miss Henrietta, Miss Mabel, and Mrs. Davenport always longing to organize our lives for us.”

  “Indeed, but now that I’ve learned my father and stepmother, Ida, will be returning to the states in the next month because my father is selling his business to Mr. Slater, Asher and I are considering a wedding close to Christmas.”

  “Isn’t Mr. Slater the gentleman your stepsister, Lucy, set her cap for, but then changed her mind about after he’d sailed her, your father, and Ida over to London?”

  Permilia grinned. “The very same. Father was feeling guilty about Lucy refusing Mr. Slater’s suit. And after he and Ida traveled to Scotland, where my father felt an instant kinship with a clan of Scotsmen, probably because they convinced him, what with his red hair, that he must have Scottish ancestry, Father decided it was time to get rid of his mining ventures. Mr. Slater was only too willing to buy him out, which will make his mining ventures some of the largest in the country.”

  “And Ida, a woman known to be enamored with New York society, is willing to abandon her society life in this city to take up residence in Scotland?”

  “Oddly enough, Ida has developed a love for Scotland and seems to have actually fallen in love with my father as well.”

  “How delightful.”

  “Quite,” Permilia said. “And Lucy, after refusing an offer of marriage from a British viscount, has apparently fallen for a Scotsman and is to get married come spring, where she’ll then take up residence in an ancient castle not far from the one my father’s purchasing.”

  Temperance began walking down the second flight of stairs. “I’m sure you’re much relieved that your father’s marriage has turned around. I was afraid he and Ida would decide to live separate lives at some point, but now, he seems to have found his happily-ever-after as well.”

  “He has. And because he’s feeling guilty about putting an ocean between us, although with us being friends with Harrison, we’ll always have a yacht or two at our disposal to visit Scotland, Father is insisting on buying Asher and me a cottage in Newport.” She smiled. “Since I adore Newport, and wouldn’t mind bringing a small Rutherford & Company shop into some space at the Newport Casino, I’ve decided to be gracious and accept my father’s gift.”