To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  “I objected to Angelica’s plan to build one of those monstrosities that members of society are building up and down Fifth Avenue. We have a perfectly fine brownstone. I don’t see the need for Louis to spend the family fortune on a new home simply because his wife is interested in vying with the likes of Alva Vanderbilt.”

  Gabriella settled into her chair, taking a moment to consider the matter.

  It would be difficult, of that she had no doubt, but Mrs. Sampson was willing to pay her two thousand dollars, which she’d be sharing with the other residents of the boardinghouse. That amount of money, even shared, was almost more than most of them made in a year. That meant there was no way she could turn down the case, no matter how daunting it might be.

  “I’ll give you five thousand dollars if you’re successful,” Mrs. Sampson suddenly said.

  For the briefest of seconds, Gabriella found herself incapable of summoning up a reply.

  Five thousand dollars was an amount of money she could barely wrap her mind around, but clearly she was going to have to make an attempt to do exactly that.

  Shaking aside the shock that was holding her immobile, Gabriella inclined her head. “That’s a most generous offer, Mrs. Sampson, and an offer I’ll respectfully accept. With our terms now settled, know that I’m delighted to take on your case, and also know that I will be successful finding your missing items. You have my word on that.”

  CHAPTER

  Fourteen

  Attending a ball was normally an enjoyable way to pass the evening, and attending the Fairchild ball that evening should have been no exception, except that Nicholas’s thoughts of Gabriella kept getting in the way of any enjoyment he might have experienced.

  He was now convinced that Gabriella had not been jesting when she’d told him she didn’t want to resume their friendship, especially not after the way she’d stopped smiling in Villard’s Dress Shop the day before, mere seconds after she’d caught sight of him.

  To say he’d been taken aback to discover her working in that shop was an understatement. Yes, he’d known she held a job because she’d admitted as much to him. However, she’d never told him exactly what she did or where she worked. In all honesty, seeing her so unexpectedly—and, for once, not in disguise—had left him . . . mesmerized.

  He should have known that the beauty she’d possessed, although always hidden when she was a child, would only increase over the years they’d been apart, but nothing could have prepared him for how captivating Gabriella had become. He’d been unable to tear his gaze from her as she went about hemming Maryanne’s gown, her movements precise as she’d scooted along the floor.

  What had struck him the most, though, as he’d continued watching her, was that she seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was the most beautiful woman in a room filled with some of the reigning beauties of the day.

  Gabriella had never been concerned with her looks and had been perfectly content to dress as a boy and rub dirt on her face when they’d roamed the Lower East Side. Apparently, that hadn’t changed, a notion he’d found far too appealing.

  Unfortunately, he’d quickly discovered that she obviously didn’t find him appealing in the least, not after she’d given him the cut direct by turning on her heel and ignoring him after she’d caught him watching her. He’d been tempted to approach her to explain that he’d had every intention of honoring her request of parting ways with him for good, and that he’d not deliberately shown up at her place of work. However, when he’d finally gotten up the gumption to approach her, willing to risk her temper in order to make his case, Maryanne’s mother had intercepted him, telling him she was feeling faint. He’d then been obligated to take Mrs. Allen outside for some fresh air while Maryanne finished up. Unfortunately, when they were about to return to fetch Maryanne, she’d met them right at the front door, insisting they get on their way because they had plans for the evening.

  Because of that, he’d missed his opportunity of explaining to Gabriella exactly what he was doing at the shop. He’d also missed an opportunity to tell her that she’d been right about his overbearing, managing ways, and that he, after a bit of self-reflection, now understood why she’d not wanted to resume their friendship.

  The uncomfortable truth he’d arrived at about himself was this—he was overly opinionated at times with the ladies, and he definitely seemed to do his best to manage ladies and their varied situations. The reason behind that was simple. He’d been told time and again by etiquette instructors and Professor Cameron that ladies in society were brought up to rely on gentlemen, and they expected those gentlemen to make important decisions for them, especially decisions that concerned their welfare.

  Nevertheless, even with having had that notion drilled into him over the years, he shouldn’t have tried to manage Gabriella. She’d always been a partner to him, and yet, both times they’d been together while trying to clear Jennette’s name, he’d tried to take the lead, believing it was in her best interest for him to do so. Rather than gaining her appreciation for his domineering ways, though, he’d insulted her most assiduously instead.

  He’d been tempted to visit her at the Holbrooke boardinghouse, but then decided against that because Gabriella had made her wishes clear—she wanted nothing more to do with him. He certainly wouldn’t prove to her that he had the ability to stop being managing and high-handed if he neglected to honor her wishes, no matter how much he longed to see her again.

  All in all, it had made for some very morose days, ones he’d been trying to fill with work. When he wasn’t working, he’d occupied his time with a few society events, discovering that the ladies were going out of their way to be charming to him, probably because he, along with a good many other society gentlemen, had taken umbrage over the attention those ladies had turned Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s way in order to increase their chances of procuring a title.

  “Shall I assume you’re considering making matters more official with Miss Maryanne Allen, since you accompanied her to the opera last night and were seen with her and her mother yesterday afternoon as well?”

  Shoving aside thoughts that were doing their best to keep him in a dismal frame of mind, Nicholas turned his attention to Professor Cameron, who was looking dapper in his formal evening clothes, his jeweled lapel pin sparkling under the chandelier light. “Miss Allen, along with her mother, have been delightful company of late, although I have no immediate plans to make anything official yet.”

  “I trust that isn’t due to attention I heard many young ladies were paying to a certain Mrs. Kaffenburgh, is it?”

  “I would be lying if I said the Kaffenburgh situation didn’t bother me, since it certainly brought to attention the fickle nature of many a young lady.”

  “You can’t blame ladies for wanting to procure the most advantageous match they can. They’re groomed from birth to achieve that particular goal. With that said, though, I did find the unexpected appearance of Mrs. Kaffenburgh rather jarring, because I’ve lived in the city my entire life and have never heard of the Kaffenburgh family. I tried to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Kaffenburgh at the Lanham ball, but she was constantly surrounded by young ladies. And then, well, there was that unfortunate incident on the dance floor with you, which had her leaving the ball early. I’ve now heard she’s gone off to Boston on her matchmaking quest, even though everyone knows that the crème de le crème of young ladies is found here in New York.”

  He sent Nicholas a knowing look. “I can’t say I’m disappointed she’s left the city since I was afraid your standing as the most eligible gentleman of the Season was going to suffer because of Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s aristocratic nephew. Now, however, you’ve got nothing to fear. That means you must put your misgivings aside and settle on a lady to court. If Miss Maryanne Allen isn’t that lady, perhaps someone else may catch your fancy.”

  An image of Gabriella immediately sprang to mind, one that left him decidedly confused because it wasn’t as if he harbored romantic feelings
for her, or at least he didn’t think he did.

  “Miss Emma McArthur is a lovely young lady,” Professor Cameron said, nodding to Emma, who was strolling arm in arm across the ballroom floor with Miss Rosaline Blossom.

  Nicholas forced his unexpected musings aside. “I can’t argue with you there.”

  “Did I tell you I recently spoke with Mr. McArthur at the Union Club? He was very interested in you and wanted me to know that he finds you to be a most upstanding gentleman.” Professor Cameron leaned closer to Nicholas. “I admit I enjoyed Mr. McArthur going on about how your manners are impeccable and how you’re incredibly well read. You really do present yourself to the world as one expects a gentleman to the manor born to present himself.”

  “But I’m not to the manor born.”

  Professor Cameron took hold of Nicholas’s arm and tugged him around the edges of the ballroom, not stopping until he reached a spot that was well away from everyone.

  “Have a care with how loudly you make proclamations like that, my dear boy. We’ve come too far for your future to be placed in jeopardy because of carelessness on your part.”

  Something uncomfortable settled in the pit of Nicholas’s stomach. “Don’t you think it’s a bit unethical for me to continue presenting myself to society as your nephew when I’m nothing of the sort?”

  “As far as society is concerned, you’re the son of my beloved late sister, Ruth, who tragically died after suffering from a long illness, the reason behind why she and her husband moved out West. Besides, I filed legal papers years ago, declaring you my nephew and heir. For all intents and purposes, you are my nephew.”

  “You never mentioned you filed papers to make me your nephew.”

  “I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I decided I wanted you as my heir, and now that’s wrapped up nice and tight. But enough about all this. We’re at a ball, an occasion that demands we enjoy ourselves.” The professor smiled at Emma and Rosaline, who were promenading closer. “I’ll leave you to the pleasure of speaking with those delightful ladies.” Still smiling, he strolled away.

  Walking over to join Emma and Rosaline, Nicholas added his name to both of their dance cards, then found himself engaged in a discussion about fashion, something he could converse about with ease, even if he found the topic somewhat tiresome. Just as Emma launched into how bustles were projected to decrease in size, he felt the most peculiar tingle on the back of his neck.

  It was a feeling he’d experienced often in his youth, a precursor of waiting danger, but what danger could be lurking around the Fairchild ballroom was difficult to say.

  He glanced over the crowd, his gaze settling on a gentleman dressed in evening wear who was lounging against the wall, his face obscured by shadows.

  There was something familiar about the air of insolence radiating from the man, but try as he might, Nicholas couldn’t place him.

  “Miss Allen, how lovely of you to join us,” Emma said, drawing Nicholas’s attention as Maryanne stopped beside him and immediately took hold of his arm, earning a scowl from Emma and Rosaline in return.

  Glancing over his shoulder one last time, Nicholas frowned when he discovered the gentleman no longer in sight. Wondering if he’d imagined the dangerous air about the man, he turned back to Maryanne, who was smiling brightly at Emma and Rosaline. Those two ladies were now smiling brightly as well, although their smiles seemed forced given that Emma’s teeth appeared clenched and Rosaline’s lips were rather thin.

  Nothing in any of the etiquette lessons Professor Cameron had provided had prepared him for having three ladies trying to win his favor at the same time, all while keeping smiles on their faces as their eyes flashed with clear temper.

  “May I suggest we go in search of some refreshments?” was all he could think to say to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended around him. “Perhaps some champagne?”

  To his relief, the ladies agreed that champagne was a wonderful idea. Walking with them across the room, he stopped a server dressed in gray livery, who was carrying a tray filled with champagne flutes. After handing glasses all around, he took a sip as Maryanne turned to him, her smile still firmly in place.

  “Have you seen the dining room yet, Mr. Quinn?” Maryanne asked. “Mrs. Fairchild has decorated it to appear as if we’ll be dining by the side of a stream. She’s even brought in swans to swim through the water she had fashioned down the center of the table.”

  “She’s including real swans on a table we’ll be eating from?” Nicholas asked, finding that a peculiar choice, what with how birds did possess feathers, some of which might fall out as they swam. Feathers were not exactly something he enjoyed as a side during a meal.

  “Indeed, it’s a most innovative idea,” Maryanne said. “One has to wonder, since this is early in the Season, what extent all the other hostesses will go to this year to top Mrs. Fairchild’s decorations. I imagine we’re in for quite the treat over the next few months.”

  As Maryanne, along with Emma and Rosaline, launched into a discussion about how hostesses could top swans, Nicholas’s attention wandered, traveling over the many guests who were sipping champagne and chatting amicably. His gaze drifted over a footman, then immediately returned to that man, taking in his slight form and red hair that was secured with a ribbon at the nape of his neck.

  There was something about the way the footman held himself that kept and held his attention, something that . . .

  He narrowed his eyes when recognition struck, because the young footman who was in the process of serving Angelica Sampson, one of the most disagreeable society matrons in New York, was none other than Gabriella.

  What she was doing was beyond him, but before he could finish the thought, Gabriella was turning from Angelica, and then, a mere blink of an eye later, a gentleman who’d been walking past Angelica was stumbling into that lady. A second after that, Angelica was falling to the ground, her descent stopped by Gabriella, who’d abandoned her tray of drinks to a nearby table and was helping Angelica back to her feet.

  If he hadn’t been watching Gabriella so closely, he would have missed seeing her hand slip behind Angelica’s back and then into the pocket of her jacket. Once she made sure Angelica was steady, she picked up the tray of champagne flutes again and began threading her way through the guests, the slightest of smiles on her face.

  “Do you think, Mr. Quinn, that using a fairy-tale theme for the ball my mother is hosting in January will be sufficiently original enough to stand up to the theme Mrs. Fairchild used tonight?” Maryanne asked, giving his arm a squeeze, which effectively pulled his attention from Gabriella, who was moving quickly through the crowd.

  He summoned up a smile. “You and your mother always host delightful balls, Miss Allen. And because of that, I believe you should have every confidence that whatever theme you decide upon will be perfect. You certainly don’t need to seek my counsel. I’m sure you’re far more knowledgeable about such matters.”

  Maryanne’s brows drew together. “You don’t care to lend me your counsel about my ball?”

  He refused a wince. “It’s not that I wouldn’t lend you my counsel, but I’m not certain why you’d want it. My expertise in deciding what theme to use for a ball is, at the very least, questionable. In all honesty, I think you’d find your event more satisfying if you and your mother simply choose a theme and don’t concern yourself over the opinions of what everyone in society may think of your choice.”

  Dead silence settled over them as Maryanne, Emma, and Rosaline began looking at him as if he’d just proclaimed a most radical idea. They then exchanged glances before Maryanne sent him a strained smile.

  “You evidently don’t care for fairy-tale themes, Mr. Quinn, but are too gracious to disappoint me.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Fairy-tale themes are quite the rage, Miss Allen. I assure you, I don’t have an issue with them.”

  The ladies exchanged another round of looks and began murmuring to each other behind glov
ed hands, giving Nicholas an opportunity to scan the room for Gabriella, finding her on the other side of the ballroom, her progress stopped by two ladies in need of champagne. He looked back to Maryanne, Emma, and Rosaline. “Forgive me, ladies, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just seen an old acquaintance of mine with whom I need to have a word.”

  The murmurs came to a rapid end as Maryanne tightened her grip on his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

  With no choice but to take her with him, even though he earned disgruntled looks from Emma and Rosaline, Nicholas began strolling through the crowd, frustration building when Maryanne slowed their pace to nod to a gathering of young ladies, all of whom returned her nod before directing smiles his way. He barely made it past the ladies when his path was blocked by Mrs. Cutting, a society matron who was helping herself to a glass of champagne from a tray held by, as luck would have it, Gabriella.

  His lips began to curve, stopping when Gabriella suddenly turned his way, her eyes narrowing as her gaze lingered on the hand Maryanne had wrapped around his arm.

  A split second later, the entire front of him was soaked with the champagne Gabriella had been passing around, the sound of the glasses that were no longer on her tray breaking as they crashed to the floor drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Watch what you’re doing, boy,” Mrs. Cutting snapped, but Gabriella was no longer around to take the abuse the society matron seemed keen to level on her.

  Craning his neck, he saw her weaving rapidly through the room, her pace slowing as a maid stepped out of a hallway and joined her.

  The black spectacles the maid was wearing were a sure sign that Daphne had been pressed into some manner of service once again.

  “What are the two of you up to?” he muttered before he remembered he was still in the company of Maryanne, or that Mrs. Cutting had stepped closer to him, eyeing the front of his champagne-drenched formal evening wear.