Some Like It Scandalous

by Maya Rodale

  “Oh, dear God.”

  That was how her mother was going to get them out of any interrogations or repercussions. She would play the role of ditzy society darling who spent her days just spending money with no questions asked about where it had come from. Daisy saw that, in a way, her mother was just as much of an actress as the ones on Broadway.

  “Go on, Daisy. You must pack your things. We haven’t any time to spare.” She glanced at the blank space on the mantel where the clock used to rest. “Our ship departs tomorrow and we must be on it.”

  “What about Theo?”

  “What about him?”

  “The wedding. The church. The champagne and the roses?”

  “There can’t be a wedding now, darling.”

  “But you reserved the church. Invitations have been sent. You have been planning a reception for a thousand people at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”

  “It’s too late for that now, Daisy. We can’t stay here. Theo can’t protect you now. His father will not stand up for you. I think he might have been one of your father’s investors—I don’t know. I refuse to know. At the very least, I’m certain many of his friends were. He will not countenance a match between you and his son now. I think it’s safe to say the wedding is off.”

  “But . . .”

  This is what she had wanted. Desperately.

  Her mother smiled at her. “You are free, Daisy.”

  This was the reprieve she had hoped and prayed for. Yet here it was, falling right into her lap and she didn’t want it.

  “I should think you’d be happy about that, no? After all your hemming and hawing about marrying him in the first place. Now you’re free to make a really advantageous match.”

  “Mother . . .”

  “Once we land in Europe we’ll set about landing you a lord. An earl or a viscount or something. Like your sister Camilla. After a few years, when the scandal will have died down, we can return to the city. Nothing like an aristocratic title to open doors that were previously closed.”

  “You have it all figured out, don’t you, Mother?” Society was a game of chess and Daisy was her pawn.

  “I can’t believe you would think otherwise, Daisy.”

  And with that, Daisy was dismissed to go pack up the contents of her life. She paused in the doorway of her room where Sally had already begun packing her gowns, gloves, underthings, shoes . . . The things she would need to land that earl or viscount, while the things Daisy loved that made her her would be left behind.

  Books for her classes at Barnard sat on her bedside table. Her chemistry supplies remained untouched in the corner of her room. And all her samples of lip paint and rouge were scattered across the top of her dressing table. Little cast-off hopes and dreams that would be swept away as Daisy set sail for a new life in Europe.

  A new life in which she sacrificed herself on the altar of a loveless marriage so that in a few years’ time her mother could have what she loved and wanted most in the world: the adoration of society. Evenings at all the most glittering parties.

  Why would she not do this for her mother, who gave her life, tried to protect her, and stood by her for everything? She was the one who’d soothed and comforted Daisy after Theo and his friends cruelly teased and taunted her. She was the one who had persuaded her husband to support Daisy’s college ambitions. She had supported her daughter in so many ways, and for so long.

  Evelina Swan wasn’t some flighty society lady; she was a woman who played the hand she’d been dealt. And she was a mother who loved her daughters fiercely. She’d only been trying to protect Daisy.

  And so how could Daisy deny her this one thing?

  How could she leave her mother to face this uncertain future alone?

  Their ship sailed tomorrow morning for a new life in Europe. There was no good reason for Daisy Swan not to be on it.

  Except for Theodore Prescott the Third.

  Who had never said he loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  New York society is reeling from the demise of Jack Swan and his fraudulent investment scheme that has decimated many of the city’s fortunes.

  —The New York Post

  The Prescott Mansion

  The library, specifically

  Dawn broke on the Prescott mansion to reveal a house still wrecked from the party the night before. Champagne glasses and stray pearls were strewn among all the art and antiques. Servants went about the task of cleaning up in muted silence.

  By now, everyone had heard the news.

  Legendary investor Jack Swan had defrauded dozens of investors with a scheme that took from new infusions of cash to pay off previous investors. The victims of his deception included some of Manhattan’s most-storied families, senators, and former presidents, and even the church.

  And Theodore Prescott the Second.

  Prescott Senior spent hours in the library, in hushed meetings with advisers and partners to ascertain the extent of the damage.

  Theo wandered the halls. Thinking. Wondering. Trying to make sense of everything. Had Daisy known? She must have known. She must have had a reason like this to push so hard and fast to make their business a success, so that she’d have something to fall back on when everything collapsed around her. Theo couldn’t be mad about it because he also had his own reasons for joining her.

  He just wished she would have confided in him. If he was honest with himself, the lack of trust and confidence in him was what hurt the most. To think of all the intimacies they’d shared. Except for this one.

  He didn’t know what it all meant for them now.

  What would happen to him and her?

  What did he want to happen with him, her, the two of them together?

  Theo didn’t know yet.

  Theo knocked on the door to the library. For once, he did not wait for his father’s bid to enter before he strolled into the room. He just accepted that he had a right to his father’s attention and strolled in.

  Theodore Prescott the Second sat slumped in his chair, a cigar burning in the ashtray on his desk, sleeves rolled up, hair in disarray. He looked rough, like the young steelworker he’d once been.

  But he also looked defeated.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad.”

  “Will you be able to keep the steel company? The house?”

  These were questions Theo never, ever imagined he would ask. Strangely, he didn’t fear the answers. The reason was that he had something of his own now—a company he’d helped build from scratch and his own income. And even if those things were gone now, too, Theo still had his newfound confidence and knowledge in building a business. He still had connections, his education. For better or worse, whether deserving it or not, a man like him always had a chance to succeed.

  He could be just fine on his own.

  He could afford to take a chance on love.

  He sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Daisy. He could only see these truths because of her.

  “Well, it won’t bankrupt me.” Prescott Senior laughed bitterly. “Thomas, Cavanaugh, and the church bore the worst of it. But it’s bad.”

  Theo had to wonder what hurt more: the blow to his father’s bank account or to his pride in his reputation as being the richest, the most powerful, the most untouchable.

  “No matter what, not all is lost. I have money.”

  “How cute. My son offering his pocket money. Which I gave him.”

  Theo waited for the sting of his father’s mockery. Ah, yes, there it was. But it faded as quickly as it had come. Because his father didn’t know the truth. While Theo regretted the present circumstances, a part of him was glad for the opportunity to stand up and be the hero. He had earned it.

  “My business is on track to generate a million dollars this year, Father. I know, it’s just one million. But you must admit that’s not too bad for the first month.”

  His father looked up with narrowed eyes.

  “Your business. Your business?”


  “Yes. Dr. Swan’s Apothecary. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s all the rage among society ladies. There’s been nothing like it ever before.”

  “What the devil is that, even?”

  “We sell a revolutionary new complexion balm. Soon we’ll be launching cosmetics.”

  It so happened that there was something worse than his father’s legendary stare. His father’s laughter. His rich, uproarious, mocking laughter that wasn’t even muted by the thick carpet or books on the walls. It could echo in a boy’s soul and head forever, that laughter.

  Theo discovered that now. He almost wanted to press his palms against his ears to drown it out. Instead, he stood still and tall and faced it.

  “This is not the time for jokes, Theo.”

  “Why do you think I’m joking?”

  “Because no son of mine will have gone into business making face cream for society ladies.”

  Except he had. And he was good at it. And he liked it. It made him happy. Didn’t that have to count for something?

  “I thought you wanted me to find a purpose,” Theo said, fighting to keep control of his voice. Because all these feelings—years and years and years of feelings and unspoken words—were ready to make their debut now. “An occupation. Some focus and discipline. Something that will make me a man we can both be proud of. And I have done it.”

  “No, you haven’t. You’re just selling face paints for prostitutes.” His father took a long inhalation of his cigar and exhaled. “I get it. You’re just doing something to get out of your marriage with that Swan girl. It’s safe to say that match no longer has my blessing. So you can give up on your little business.”

  His father waved him off. Literally a wave of his hand, like his own son was some employee to be dismissed. Like he had every expectation that Theo would do his bidding. Like Theo wasn’t his own man.

  But he was.

  His voice was steady when Theo simply said, “No.”

  “No? The girl or the business?”

  Theo didn’t even have to think about it. He was sure of the answer. “Both.”

  “Tell me, son. How much humiliation am I supposed to take?” His father leaned forward now, eyes narrowed. “We are Prescott Steel, forged in fire and the backbone of Manhattan’s legendary skyscrapers. And you want to make toiletries for ladies and marry the daughter of the man who nearly bankrupted me and my friends? Hell, no. My word is final. You’ll come to work with me. I should have insisted on that from the beginning.”

  “I see. You never wanted me to find a purpose or occupation. You wanted me to follow yours. You thought forcing me into an engagement with Daisy would be such an awful prospect that I’d come running to Prescott Steel, ready to do your bidding. To become just like you.”

  “You could do worse. You have done worse. You are not the son I’d hoped for.”

  And there it was. His father had never said the words aloud, but Theo had always felt the weight of them. And now the air rushed out of his chest. It took a minute, a real minute, before he remembered that the world was still turning and he should probably keep breathing.

  The thing he had feared most in the world had just happened and not only had he survived, Theo also realized that it wasn’t the thing he dreaded most. Not anymore. Losing Daisy. Losing what he had with her. Losing the man he’d become because of her. That was now the fate he feared.

  Finally, Theo found the words he’d always carried around but couldn’t quite articulate. Fear of his father’s mockery and disapproval always kept his true feelings unspoken. But now Theo knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn’t have anything to lose by saying them.

  “I only wanted your approval, Father. I only ever wanted to make you proud of me for who I was. I only ever wanted your love. But now I wonder if you are even capable of it. And now all I want is to be with Daisy.”

  Theo turned to go. His hand was on the doorknob when his father’s voice stopped him.

  “I won’t let you do it. I won’t let you embarrass me with that business or that woman.”

  “The thing is, Father, you can’t stop me.”

  Some are wondering if the match between Theodore Prescott the Third and Miss Daisy Swan will go on. One cannot imagine it would, given the circumstances.

  —The New York Post

  Later that morning

  Central Park

  This time when they met in the park, it was planned. The weather was cool and crisp, the sky gray-tinged; it was a no-nonsense kind of New York day.

  “You.” Theo said the word because there was so much he wanted to say and he didn’t know where to begin.

  “You,” she replied in kind.

  For a moment they just stared at each other. Once upon a time Theo had said she wasn’t his type, but now he couldn’t imagine a face that he wanted to gaze at more than hers. Beauty was her luminous skin, the quirk of her smile, the bright intelligence of her eyes. Pleasure was her lips, the softness of her skin. Delight was every moment with her, not knowing what would come next.

  Their worlds had collapsed around them and yet here they were in the shadow of that duck pond and the gazebo and all their worst moments together. Everything had changed.

  “Of all the ways on our list to get out of the wedding, I never saw this one coming,” he said. “Did you know, Daisy?”

  “I knew my father was up to something not good. I never imagined it would be this bad. It is why my mother forced and rushed our wedding. She wanted me to be protected.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Daisy?”

  “First we were enemies. And then I was too busy kissing you.”

  “I can’t say that isn’t true.” When does one find the perfect moment to confess that Something Bad Was Going To Happen? Especially when one had so many other things to talk about. There was so much kissing one could do. Theo harbored no grudge that she hadn’t told him. “What happens now?”

  “They are transporting all our trunks to the docks right now,” she said. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, his knees felt weak. “We’ll sail for France this morning. We haven’t booked return tickets.”

  “Of course. What else would one do the morning after a scandal?” Theo quipped because he didn’t trust himself to say anything else. She was leaving? She couldn’t leave now. He . . . needed her.

  “Apparently, one sets sail to France and plans to stay forever.”

  “No one stays in France forever,” Theo replied. “It’s where one goes for flirtation, fashion, and a quick jaunt to gaze at some art so one might lay some claim to culture. But then one returns home, to Manhattan, with a better wardrobe.”

  Daisy smiled in spite of herself.

  “We certainly can’t stay here,” she said. “Well, my father will be staying. In jail.”

  “Not quite the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”

  “Not quite,” she agreed. “But my mother and I will go. She has some idea that if I just marry a count or an earl, all will be forgiven and we’ll be welcomed back into New York society. Eventually.”

  “So the wedding is off,” he said.

  “Allegedly.”

  “Rumor has it.”

  “People are saying,” she replied. And people were saying. It was in the newspapers this morning that they couldn’t possibly marry now.

  “You’ve gotten everything you wanted,” Theo said. “The wedding is off. Our business is successful and on track to be more so. You will be free to enjoy your spinsterhood and all the freedom it entails. I have no doubt that Dr. Swan will be all the rage in Paris. In fact, it might be easier to sell there than here.”

  “If I go to Paris.”

  “You can’t stay here, Daisy.” The truth of it was a suffocating weight on his chest. He knew what she would endure to stay here; it would be brutal. Because he loved her, he couldn’t ask her to suffer that. “You can’t stay,” he repeated even though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. “Not after what your father did to everyone. Your r
eputation . . .” Theo couldn’t stand to see her insulted in the newspapers, cut by society, and shunned by her friends, and their business suffer.

  “Why, Theo, you almost sound like you want me to go.”

  “No, Daisy—”

  “Do you really think I’m going to let some scandal run me out of town?”

  Theo cracked a smile. Because there were words he needed to say. Words that were pent up in his heart. Words that were his feelings. He didn’t want to keep them to himself.

  “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay in New York. With me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  New York women are a little less radiant and significantly more irate due to the sudden demise of Dr. Swan’s Apothecary. How else will they obtain their Midnight Miracle Cream?

  —The New York Post

  The next day

  27 Union Square

  Theodore Prescott the Second did not waste time in proving that he could and he would put a stop to Theo’s business. Because nothing was more important than an old man’s pride. Not a young man’s dreams, not a young woman’s ambitions.

  Theo had told Daisy of his father’s vow to ruin them before Daisy said goodbye to her mother and ordered her trunks to be removed from the carriage headed toward the docks and to the ship.

  His honesty and timing had been the stuff of a true hero and gentleman.

  However, Daisy, foolishly, hadn’t really believed that Theodore Prescott the Second would spare the time to ruin them. After all, he was such a busy and important man.

  Silly her for underestimating what a man will do to protect his reputation.

  What really burned was how little effort it took for Prescott Senior to grind everything to a halt with nothing more than a word, a letter, a well-placed connection for the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice to shut down the shop. Someone there just happened to have heard from a “trusted source” that the cosmetics were just to signal to “certain kinds” of women that they were really selling contraceptives. It went without saying that was all manner of illegal.