Flights of Fancy

by Jen Turano

  Turning to the children, who were sitting in the rented carriage outside of Izzie’s impressive Fifth Avenue home, he smiled. “We’re here. And I know this is a lot to ask of you, but I think it would be best if I go in alone. Pave the way, so to speak.”

  That idea was quickly dismissed when Henry, Violet, and Daisy declared they had an urgent need to use a retiring room, and Prim proclaimed she had an urgent need to see Izzie.

  Thankful, at least, that Aunt Birdie and Uncle Amos, along with Miss Olive and Jonathon, were content to wait in the other carriage he’d rented, Ian picked up Daisy, took hold of Violet’s hand, and headed for the imposing front door with Henry and Prim by his side, and with Henry wriggling in a way that lent credence to the idea he really needed a retiring room.

  A dignified-looking gentleman sporting a formal dark coat and matching trousers opened the door before they reached it. The man took one look at Ian and the children and seemed ready to close the door on them.

  “We’re here to see Miss Isadora Delafield,” Ian hurried to say, his words having the man pause as his gaze sharpened on Ian.

  “And you would be?”

  “I’m Mr. Ian MacKenzie, and . . .”

  “We’re the children who love Izzie, and we’ve come to bring her back home with us,” Prim said, surprising Ian by speaking so directly to a man who was almost as imposing as the house. “Are you Izzie’s father?”

  “I’m Mr. Godkin, the butler, but perhaps all of you should come inside. Miss Isadora’s father has only just arrived home from a trip, and he and Mrs. Delafield are currently having a . . . discussion in the library.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” Henry said, jumping from one foot to the other. “But do you have a retiring room? Me and my sisters need one powerful bad.”

  With his lips curving just a touch at the corners, Mr. Godkin ushered everyone inside and then took Henry by the hand, leading him and Violet down a long hallway, Daisy scampering to catch up after Ian set her down. “I’ll be back directly,” Mr. Godkin said over his shoulder. “Feel free to seek out the library on your own. It’s down that hallway to your right. You’ll know which one since you’ll be able to hear . . . the voices.”

  “I’ll go watch over the girls,” Prim said, rushing after Mr. Godkin.

  Not wanting to dawdle in the entranceway, and finding it somewhat curious that Mr. Godkin hadn’t told him he’d tell Izzie she had guests, Ian strode down the hallway opposite the one the children had taken, raised voices guiding his way.

  “. . . completely beyond the pale for you to have encouraged a man Isadora evidently didn’t want to marry . . .”

  “He’s a duke. How could I not encourage her, Frederick? It’s every mother’s dream to have her daughter married well.”

  “You’re not the one having to marry a man I have to believe is completely unsuitable, especially given his age, for my Isadora, and . . .”

  Knocking on the partially closed door because he certainly didn’t want to allow Isadora’s parents to believe he was the type to skulk around eavesdropping, Ian braced himself when his knock caused the argument to come to an abrupt end. Footsteps sounded a second later, and then the door swung open, revealing a very large, very angry-looking gentleman and a very petite, albeit furious-looking woman who resembled Izzie standing behind him.

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” Ian began. “I’m Mr. Ian MacKenzie, and I’m a friend of your daughter, Miss Isadora Delafield.”

  The woman’s dark brows drew together. “My daughter does not know anyone by the name of MacKenzie.”

  “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Delafield, but I believe she does. She’s been staying with my family in Pennsylvania ever since she left New York.”

  “But . . . that’s preposterous,” Mrs. Delafield all but sputtered as Isadora’s father’s gaze suddenly sharpened on Ian’s face, holding a touch of anticipation.

  “I’m Frederick Delafield, Mr. MacKenzie, and I’m hoping you’re now going to tell me that you’ve brought our Isadora home.”

  The floor seemed to lurch underneath Ian’s feet. “I thought she’d be here.”

  “She’s not with you?”

  “She left yesterday after we . . . well, no need to get into that because we’ve got bigger problems. She should have been back to New York by now.”

  “She was traveling by herself?”

  “That’s what I assumed, although she didn’t bother to say good-bye or take her trunk with her.”

  “And you didn’t believe that was peculiar?”

  “I did, but you see, we’d had a bit of a disagreement, and I told her I really didn’t want to have anything to do with her after . . .” Ian frowned. “Wait a minute, did you not receive a telegram from Mr. Nigel Flaherty, telling you where to find Izzie in Pittsburgh?”

  “Who is Nigel Flaherty? And no, we’ve received no telegrams or messages of late, which has been somewhat perplexing,” Mrs. Delafield said before she raised a hand to her throat. “But what if Isadora’s been harmed, and how are we to find her without knowing where she could be?”

  Frederick moved to Mrs. Delafield’s side and drew her close to him. “We’ll find her, Hester, but I’m going to need you to remain strong while I set a plan into action.” He looked to Ian. “Are you sure she was intending to make her way back to New York?”

  “I assumed so, but . . .” His words trailed off when what could only be described as a whirlwind entered the room. At first, he thought he was looking at a young man, but upon closer reflection, he realized that standing before him was a young woman dressed in riding pants that one would expect to see a gentleman wearing at a horse park, complete with top hat and riding crop.

  “I do apologize for interrupting, but Mr. Hatfield and I were just down by the harbor and saw your yacht anchored there, Mr. Delafield. We’ve been waiting for you to . . .” The young lady’s voice trailed off as she settled her sights on Ian right as the children came rushing into the library, Daisy bellowing “Izzie, Izzie” at the top of her lungs.

  A second later, silence descended as the children stopped in their tracks, turning their heads this way and that as they evidently tried to locate Izzie.

  “Where’s Izzie, Ian?” Prim demanded.

  “On my word, are you Ian MacKenzie?” the young lady dressed as a man asked, striding across the room to stand directly in front of him. “Izzie sent me a telegram telling me she was staying with you, but . . . where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” Ian said quietly before he nodded to the children. “But I don’t think we should continue this conversation with them in the room.”

  Something flashed through the young lady’s eyes before she turned to the children and smiled. “Children, I’m Miss Beatrix Waterbury, Izzie’s very best friend. And while she’s not presently here, a few of us are about to go and bring her home—and no, you can’t come with us,” she said to Henry, who was already heading for the door. He stopped and turned, looking mutinous.

  “But Izzie will want to see us. We’re her best children.”

  “I’m sure you are, but you can’t come with us.” Beatrix turned and nodded to Mrs. Delafield. “Instead, Izzie’s mother, Mrs. Delafield, is going to take you up to the nursery and show you where Izzie lived when she was a little girl. I know Izzie still has all sorts of toys up there she’d want you to play with until she gets home.”

  “We don’t want to play,” Violet said, her lip trembling. “We want Izzie.”

  Beatrix crouched down next to the little girl. “I know you do, darling, but you need to go with Mrs. Delafield right now. That will let the rest of us get on with bringing Izzie back.”

  Prim, having proven herself an intuitive sort, stepped forward. “We’d love to see Izzie’s nursery. Violet, Henry, Daisy, come with me.” She nodded to Mrs. Delafield. “I’m Prim, ma’am, and I’ll introduce my brother and sisters while we go up to the nursery. After that, I bet you’ll want to hear about the adventures we’ve had with Izz
ie so far, especially the ones with Elmer.”

  “I left Elmer in the carriage,” Henry said, panic in his voice.

  “Where she’s fine since she’s safely enclosed in a basket,” Ian pointed out.

  Even though their departure was marked with muttering, the children did follow Mrs. Delafield, who was looking somewhat overwhelmed at being tasked with watching over four children. After they disappeared from sight, Ian turned back to Beatrix.

  “What is it? What do you know? And don’t tell me nothing because I could tell by the look in your eye moments ago that something important sprang to mind.”

  “Clearly, Izzie’s been telling tales about me, but . . .” Beatrix looked to Frederick. “I’ve known all along where Izzie was, sir, but she had reason to be hiding, as we were concerned that the Duke of Montrose might try to force her into marriage with him. There’s no time to explain more, other than to say that Izzie wanted me to come here just as soon as you got home and tell you where she was, knowing you would be able to help.”

  “Why do I get the impression this ‘we’ you just mentioned involves more people than you and Isadora?” Frederick asked slowly.

  “That’s because the plan to get Izzie spirited out of the city was all due to the brilliant strategic abilities of Mr. Godkin and Mr. Hatfield, two men I’m going to say right now should be commended and not disciplined. But we’ll delve into that later. Izzie recently sent me a telegram telling me she was with Mr. MacKenzie and that she was fine, but . . .” She blew out a breath. “She’s apparently not fine because if she’d left Pittsburgh on her own accord, she would have sent another telegram to let me know when to expect her back in the city.”

  “Do you think you have an idea where she might be now?” Frederick asked.

  “Perhaps. Mr. Hatfield and I were just down by the harbor, and after we noticed your yacht there, we thought we caught a glimpse of the duke making his way down a dock. In all honesty, I was relieved because I thought that meant Izzie was still safe from him, but . . . what if he has her? What if he’s already set sail for London?”

  “Can you show me where you saw this duke?” Ian demanded, and after Beatrix nodded, he strode beside her toward the door, Frederick following a mere step behind.

  “You can take Mr. Hatfield’s horse,” Beatrix said to Ian, moving through the door Mr. Godkin was already holding open for them. Another man Ian assumed was Mr. Hatfield called out to him to be careful since his horse tended to be on the temperamental side.

  “I’ll take my phaeton. It’s right outside,” Frederick said, turning to the right and heading for a horse and phaeton that were parked a short distance away.

  “Take Jonathon with you,” Ian called to Frederick as Jonathon jumped from the carriage he’d been waiting in. “Izzie’s in trouble. We need to get to her quickly.”

  Jonathon needed no other urging. Running, he leapt into Frederick’s phaeton. After calling to Uncle Amos and Aunt Birdie to wait for them in the house, Ian swung up on the horse next to Beatrix’s, galloping beside Beatrix down the well-paved road a second later.

  Thankful that Beatrix obviously knew the city well, he concentrated on dodging the traffic that was clogging the streets, as well as fighting to keep the horse he was on going in the right direction. Bile began to rise in his throat as he raced through the streets and couldn’t stop considering every terrible thing that could have happened to Izzie if the duke had indeed found her.

  Reining his horse to a halt what seemed like days later when they reached the docks, he looked around the harbor, having no idea where to start his search.

  “He was over there,” Beatrix said, swinging down from her horse and pointing to a dock filled with boats. “We’ll have to ask around, see if anyone saw the duke.”

  With Jonathon and Frederick soon joining them, they rushed to the dock, questioning everyone they encountered on whether they’d seen a rather large man in the company of a beautiful woman.

  “I don’t know if that woman was beautiful or not since she was wearing a cloak,” a ragged-looking sailor finally told Ian. “But the man with her was certainly large, and the men he had with him weren’t any I’d want to meet in a dark alley. They got on that boat named The Tempest. It’s right over there. Still docked.”

  Barely remembering to thank the man, Ian ran for The Tempest, finding his way onto that ship blocked by three men who looked intimidating but who weren’t blocking his way for long.

  Leaving the men moaning on the deck, Ian picked up his pace, running down the first companionway he encountered, drawn to someone speaking what sounded like words of a wedding ceremony.

  Slipping through the door from which the voice was coming, fury ignited in his veins at the sight that met his eyes.

  Izzie was standing face-to-face with a portly gentleman, her lips pressed tightly together, but there was a large man behind her, pushing her head up and down in a nodding motion.

  The man Ian assumed was the Duke of Montrose suddenly spoke up. “She’s clearly nodding, which means yes, she will take me to be her . . .”

  Ian didn’t wait to hear anything else. With his long legs eating up the space that separated him from Izzie, he was soon standing directly before her, but he didn’t do anything more than catch her eye before he turned to the duke, planting his fist squarely against the man’s jaw.

  That was all that was needed to have the man crumpling to the ground, but then the rest of the duke’s men let out yells of rage, rushing toward Ian. Pushing Isadora out of the way, Ian, for the first time in what felt like forever, allowed the fury to burst out of him, and with the help of Frederick, Jonathon, and even Beatrix, who was wielding a dripping mop she’d apparently plucked from a bucket somewhere, they quickly had the situation well in hand. Soon, all the duke’s men were on the ground, not moving so much as a single muscle, probably because Frederick and Jonathan were training pistols on them.

  “You’re all fools.”

  Glancing toward the Duke of Montrose, who was still on the ground, Ian arched a brow right as the man released a laugh that was anything but pleasant.

  “You can’t stop me from marrying Isadora. We’ve been alone together since we left Pittsburgh. She’s a ruined woman now, unless she marries me, of course.”

  Ian looked up and found Izzie watching him with wide eyes that seemed to be filled with apprehension. “She doesn’t look ruined to me,” Ian said simply. “In fact, she looks like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  His feet were suddenly in motion, and then he was standing before the woman he knew he loved with all his heart. Reaching out, he pulled her close, and when she leaned into him, he took that as a sign she was happy to see him, which was exactly why he kissed her.

  Chapter 37

  The second Ian’s lips touched hers, Isadora felt the terror she’d been trying to hold at bay disappear because . . . she was safe.

  And because Ian’s lips were now firmly pressed against her own, she had a feeling she’d be safe for many, many years to come.

  “You’ll be made to look the fool if you declare yourself now, my boy. She’s ruined goods, she is, and no man wants to saddle himself with ruined goods.”

  Ian pulled his lips from hers, and she braced herself for rejection because the duke had spoken nothing but the truth—she was considered ruined in the eyes of society because she had spent time alone with the dastardly duke, not that he’d touched her except to shove a pistol in her ribs when she was misbehaving, but society would think the worst. Ian might not believe the duke, but he’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about being made to look foolish, and . . .

  “If people want to call me a fool for being with Izzie, so be it,” Ian surprised her by saying as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, catching her eye. “Truth be told, I call myself a fool because I almost allowed you to slip away from me.”

  The simple act of drawing breath became difficult to accomplish, but before she could get a si
ngle word out of her mouth, Ian was turning back to the duke, a surprisingly pleasant smile on his face, but a hint of fury still in his eyes.

  “Just to be clear, though, there won’t be any mention of Izzie being alone with you. You’ll keep your mouth shut, even after you and your men find yourselves behind bars.”

  “You can’t very well have me arrested if you want to keep it quiet about Isadora having a bit of an adventure with me.”

  “It wasn’t an adventure, it was an abduction,” Ian countered.

  “And after the police hear about what happened to your previous three wives, you’ll never be able to abduct another unwilling heiress again,” said Beatrix, whom Isadora just then realized she had yet to even greet. “And before you plead ignorance to doing away with your previous wives, do know that Mr. Hatfield, a man you once dismissed from service, is all too willing to tell the authorities about the suspicious circumstances surrounding their deaths.”

  “And even though I’m grateful everyone seems to want to protect my reputation,” Isadora added, “I want to file a report about what he put me through. I certainly don’t want to take the chance of him perpetrating such a crime again if he’s allowed to go free.”

  The duke chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbows. “And who do you honestly think the authorities are going to believe—a woman or a duke?”

  “I would imagine they’ll believe my daughter, since I am known as one of the most influential and, need I add, wealthy industrialists in the country—if not the world,” Frederick said, stepping forward.

  The next moment, Isadora found herself pulled into her father’s embrace, Frederick rubbing her back with a large hand.

  “You’ve given me quite the fright.”

  “I’m sure I have, and I am sorry about that, Father.”