To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  “Oh, I don’t want to miss that. Their dance will certainly provide me with future inspiration if I ever need to include a touch of romance in a plot.”

  Linking arms with Daphne, Gabriella wandered to the edge of the dance floor right as the first strains of a waltz split the air. A mere minute into the waltz, she was forced to borrow a handkerchief from the vast confines of Daphne’s bag because her vision turned blurry.

  “They do make a most adorable couple,” Daphne said, sniffling into another handkerchief as Duncan danced his bride across the ballroom floor.

  By the time the music drew to a close, Daphne was all but blubbering into her handkerchief, which had Gabriella taking hold of her friend’s arm and tugging her in the direction of the retiring room. “I think we need to get you fixed up,” she said. “Should I dig your smelling salts out of your bag just in case you turn faint? You’re breathing a little fast.”

  “I’m not going to swoon, although a cool cloth placed across my forehead for a moment or two might be in order.”

  “Then a cool cloth is exactly what I shall get for you.”

  Walking into the retiring room, Gabriella ignored the looks her entrance drew as she got Daphne settled in a chair and went to dampen another one of Daphne’s handkerchiefs in the sink. After placing it on Daphne’s forehead, she sat down beside her friend, frowning when the sound of whispering reached her. Lifting her head, she discovered Mrs. Allen, Maryanne’s mother, standing two feet away from her, her face twisted with fury.

  “Ladies,” Mrs. Allen bit out through lips that barely moved. “I require the room.”

  “You heard her,” Daphne said, swiping the handkerchief from her forehead. “We should go.”

  “I believe Mrs. Allen requires the room because she wants to have a word with me,” Gabriella said, rising to her feet as ladies dashed for the door, although all of them sent her looks of clear satisfaction as they departed. “You should go as well, Daphne. I get the sneaking suspicion this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

  Daphne moved to stand directly next to Gabriella. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Miss Goodhue is correct in that what I have to say to her is not going to be pleasant.” Mrs. Allen nodded to the door. “Besides, I desire to speak to her in private, so . . . leave.”

  Daphne straightened her spectacles. “I think not.” With that, she resumed her seat, pulled her bag into her lap, withdrew her notepad and pencil, and then turned an expectant eye on Mrs. Allen. “You may begin.”

  Mrs. Allen frowned. “Why do you have a notepad out?”

  “I’m going to write down everything you say.”

  “You most certainly are not.”

  “I’d like to see how you’re going to stop me.”

  Gabriella felt the most absurd urge to laugh, an urge that disappeared when she turned from Daphne and settled her attention on Mrs. Allen. “You might as well tell me what’s on your mind, Mrs. Allen, although I imagine it revolves around Mr. Quinn and your daughter.”

  “Maryanne told me that he’s claimed two dances with you tonight—dances that are not appropriate for him to dance with you.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you don’t believe he asked to dance with either of you because he actually wants to. From what Maryanne told me, Mr. Quinn is annoyed with her because she met with Mrs. Kaffenburgh the other day. Mr. Quinn seems to have taken issue with that, but although his gentlemanly pride has obviously suffered, he’ll soon recover that pride when Maryanne informs him that Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s nephew is not a gentleman she’d care to be married to after all.”

  “Only because Mrs. Kaffenburgh let it be known that she’s settled her attention on an heiress from Boston.”

  “No one knows if that rumor is true or not, Miss Goodhue. It came secondhand to Mrs. Bracken through her paid companion, so it’s not written in stone. But that’s neither here nor there.” She took a step closer to Gabriella. “Don’t think I don’t know the true relationship you and Mr. Quinn share. And while it’s common practice for gentlemen to have their little . . . diversions, I won’t have Maryanne embarrassed by him parading you around in front of everyone.”

  Temper came swiftly. “The only relationship I share with Nicholas Quinn is that of friendship. As he told your daughter, we’ve known each other since we were children.”

  Mrs. Allen’s face began to mottle. “I’m not a fool, my dear. I saw the way he was watching you the other day at Villard’s Dress Shop. Why, he was clearly besotted and couldn’t tear his gaze from you.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t act coy. I saw you smile at him until you obviously realized you shouldn’t be smiling at him like that in public. Truth be told, I found myself deeply unsettled by the manner in which he continued regarding you, which is why I was forced to intervene, telling Mr. Quinn I felt faint, which had him offering to take me outside for some air.”

  “You were completely off the mark, Gabriella, with what you thought transpired that day,” Daphne said, looking up from her notes and sending Gabriella a wink, which left Gabriella with the distinct urge to laugh again.

  “Perhaps I was,” Gabriella said before she turned back to Mrs. Allen. “But returning to your unsubstantiated allegations, I’m not his mistress, nor do I ever intend to become that to him.”

  “As if I would believe a shop girl,” Mrs. Allen scoffed. “Nicholas Quinn is the bachelor of the Season. He’s possessed of a fortune, a high standing in society, and a handsome face. I doubt you’re capable of resisting his allure, but resist it you shall. I intend for my daughter to marry him, and you will not interfere with that.”

  Gabriella drew herself up. “Nicholas will only marry your daughter over my dead body.”

  Mrs. Allen drew herself up as well. “That can be arranged.” Turning, she stalked out of the retiring room without another word.

  “That was a great line, but what a horrible woman,” Daphne said, setting aside her notepad. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Furious, of course, but fine.”

  “It was very insulting that she assumed you’re Nicholas’s mistress, and not just insulting to you. Nicholas is not the type of gentleman who’d keep a mistress, and he’ll be appalled to learn about the unjust accusations Mrs. Allen leveled against the both of you.”

  “We can’t tell him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he may not react in a way society expects.”

  Daphne blinked. “He might forget his manners?”

  “Possibly, which is why we’re not going to mention anything to him about what just happened.”

  “But if you don’t mention it, he’ll never know how disrespectful Mrs. Allen has been to you or how disrespectful she’ll certainly be to you again.”

  “Since I doubt I’ll ever attend another society event, there’s no reason for me to worry about that. I am wondering, though, if my friendship with Nicholas is now in jeopardy. He’d hoped that some of his society friends would be accepting of our friendship, but I don’t think that’s going to be the case.”

  She moved to a mirror, smoothed a hand over her hair, then forced a smile. “But enough about all this nastiness. We’re at the wedding ball of our dear friend. Shall we rejoin the festivities?”

  “Are you certain you want to do that?”

  “Nicholas will ask questions if we don’t return, and I don’t know if I’m up for avoiding those questions.”

  Gabriella’s eyes stung the slightest bit when Daphne moved up next to her, took her arm, gave it a pat, and caught Gabriella’s eye in the reflection of the mirror. “While you said you’re concerned your friendship with Nicholas is in jeopardy, you need to remember what Mrs. Allen disclosed—she said he was besotted with you.”

  “Which was a curious thing for her to say, but I’m not sure she was right about that.”

  “What if she was?”

  It was a question Gabriella could not allow herself to dwell upon, nor did she know how to answer it
. Sending Daphne a smile instead, she walked out of the retiring room, finding Nicholas waiting for them with two champagne flutes in his hands.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, moving to join them.

  Gabriella took a flute from him. “Everything’s fine.”

  His gaze sharpened on her face. “Something’s wrong.”

  Daphne stepped forward. “Of course something’s wrong, Nicholas. Gabriella and I only just watched Jennette and Duncan dance their first dance as husband and wife, and we, I’m sorry to say, turned into blubbering ninnies. We were forced to repair to the retiring room to fix the damage.”

  “Gabriella has never been the type to blubber, and besides, I saw Mrs. Allen leave the retiring room just a moment ago. She didn’t look happy.”

  “I don’t believe she ever looks happy, does she?” Gabriella asked lightly, right as the music began and Nicholas took her champagne from her and handed it to Daphne.

  “I believe this is our dance,” he said, taking hold of her arm.

  Even knowing that taking to the floor with Nicholas was probably not a brilliant idea, considering the scrutiny she’d already drawn, Gabriella couldn’t resist the lure of having one more chance to dance with him at a ball. She was fully intending on developing a headache after the dance, which would give her an excuse to leave, but for now she was going to enjoy her time with the man who’d always been her very best friend.

  Ignoring the stares of everyone they passed, Gabriella walked with Nicholas onto the ballroom floor, stopping in her tracks when a realization struck. “We just left Daphne all alone.”

  “She’s dressed like an eccentric cat lady. Believe me, she’ll be fine.” He nodded to where Daphne had taken a seat in the midst of some dour-looking ladies. “Those are the most quarrelsome society matrons in the city, all of whom are hard of hearing and possessed of questionable temperaments. Believe me, no one will dare approach her as long as she’s sitting there.”

  Before Gabriella could argue, the music started, and then Nicholas was leading her across the floor. Everyone else in the room faded away as they swept along, Nicholas’s breath tickling her ear when he whispered reminders about the steps, then laughing in delight when she reminded him that they’d danced the waltz before, so she didn’t need reminders every other second.

  In what felt like no time at all, though, the music drew to an end. Nicholas held fast to her arm as he returned her to Daphne’s side, then held out his hand to Daphne, who shot a look to Gabriella before she shook her head. “I can’t leave her alone.”

  Nicholas’s gaze sharpened on Gabriella. “Why can’t she leave you alone?”

  “Because I’m uncomfortable being alone with people I don’t know?”

  Nicholas turned his attention to Daphne. “Forgive me, but would you mind if I begged off this dance with you? I suspect Gabriella is not being as forthcoming as she should be about what recently occurred in the retiring room. I feel a distinct need to speak with her privately about the matter.”

  “Just steer clear of Mrs. Allen, because if she sees the two of you making off for some remote part of the house, it’s not going to help Gabriella’s reputation.”

  Gabriella blew out a breath as Daphne immediately began looking guilty and Nicholas took to looking thunderous.

  “I believe the entranceway should be safe,” Nicholas said before he took Gabriella’s arm and ambled through the crowd, nodding and smiling to all the young ladies who were watching their progress.

  “You’re not helping your reputation right now,” Gabriella muttered, to which Nicholas didn’t respond. “And if you’re worried about Mrs. Allen insulting me, don’t,” she continued. “Granted, she did insult me, but she was completely off the mark, so it’s really of little consequence.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to get into that.”

  “Oh, I think there’s every reason.”

  Reaching the hallway, they headed for the curved staircase that led from the second floor to the first. Their progress, however, was delayed when a fashionably dressed lady waved to Nicholas and began to make her way toward them. Stopping a few feet away, the lady smiled, but that smile vanished in the blink of an eye when her attention drifted to Gabriella and her gaze lingered on Gabriella’s face.

  “Josephine?”

  Gabriella frowned. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

  The lady’s gaze remained on Gabriella’s face until she blinked, and then blinked again. “Oh, forgive me. My mistake. You’re much too young to be Josephine Larrimore. Pray tell me, though, what is your name?”

  Nicholas stepped forward. “Allow me to perform an introduction, Mrs. de Peyster. This is a friend of mine, Miss Goodhue. Gabriella, this is Mrs. Chauncey de Peyster.”

  Mrs. de Peyster glanced back to Nicholas. “I beg your pardon, but did you say Gabriella Goodhue?”

  “I did.”

  Mrs. de Peyster cocked her head to the side. “How . . . disconcerting,” she murmured before she dipped into a curtsy. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss . . . Goodhue, but if you’ll excuse me, my husband is waiting for me in the ballroom.” Turning, Mrs. de Peyster glided away in a rustle of expensive silk.

  “Not that I’m an expert on matters of etiquette and what’s expected after an introduction has been performed,” Gabriella began, “but that seemed slightly peculiar.”

  “That was peculiar, but Mrs. de Peyster isn’t known for holding charming conversations. However, I don’t want to discuss Mrs. de Peyster. I’d like to discuss Mrs. Allen.”

  “Can’t we just leave it at she was unpleasant?”

  “What did she say?”

  “You’re very annoying when you’re persistent.”

  “And you’re very annoying when you’re trying to dodge a question you don’t want to answer.”

  Gabriella headed down the stairs, then moved toward the receiving hall, Nicholas drawing her to a stop before they reached the entranceway.

  “Did she accuse you of being my mistress?” Nicholas asked.

  She blew out a breath. “Unfortunately, yes, she did.”

  He sent her a single nod before he turned back the way they’d just come. “I need to have a word with her.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” she said, hardly reassured when he immediately took to shaking his head.

  “I’m going to have to disagree with you there, and before you begin arguing with me, know that nothing you say is going to stop me from speaking my mind to a woman who insulted you, my dearest friend and a woman I hold in the greatest esteem.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  “What could have possessed you to engage in a heated disagreement with Mrs. Allen in the midst of the Linwood ball? From what I’ve been told, your loss of temper was noticed by numerous guests. Society is in a dither.”

  Nicholas set aside his investment papers and looked up as Professor Cameron marched his way across the library, agitation in his every step. Tossing his black walking stick in the direction of the large urn Nicholas kept for the professor’s particular use, then not noticing that he missed the urn, Professor Cameron pulled up a chair and sat down, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair and leaving it standing on end.

  “Well?” Professor Cameron began. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “Your loss of temper would be a wonderful place to start.”

  “I didn’t lose my temper with Mrs. Allen. She lost her temper with me.”

  “Because of Gabriella Goodhue, if what I’ve been told is true.”

  “Gabriella was the source of the disagreement because Mrs. Allen insulted Gabriella in a most intolerable way. I felt compelled to have a word with Mrs. Allen about the matter.”

  “From what I understand, you had more than a word with her.”

  “I suppose I did.”

  “G
entlemen are expected to refrain from engaging in unpleasant discourse with ladies, especially in public.”

  “And ladies are expected to refrain from broaching unseemly matters, but that didn’t stop Mrs. Allen from doing exactly that with Gabriella.”

  “Mrs. Allen is a leader in society. I doubt she said anything to Miss Goodhue that might have been construed as unseemly.”

  “She accused Gabriella of being my mistress.”

  Professor Cameron blinked. “Surely not.”

  “I’m afraid that’s exactly what she did. Gabriella denied Mrs. Allen’s accusations, which apparently escalated their discussion, so much so that Gabriella ended up telling Mrs. Allen that I would only marry her daughter over Gabriella’s dead body.” Nicholas leaned forward. “Mrs. Allen responded by telling Gabriella that that could be arranged.”

  “How . . . unfortunate.” Professor Cameron released a breath, squared his shoulders, and began looking rather determined. “Am I wrong in thinking that Miss Goodhue rushed to tell you about her encounter with Mrs. Allen, which allowed her to disclose her recollection of the event before Mrs. Allen had an opportunity to discuss the matter with you?”

  “Gabriella was reluctant to tell me anything at all. I immediately noticed when she walked out of the retiring room, where she’d had her exchange with Mrs. Allen, that something was amiss, and pressed her about it until she, again, reluctantly told me what happened, but only because Daphne Beekman said something first.”

  “Did Mrs. Allen dispute Miss Goodhue’s account?”

  “Not at all. Mrs. Allen told me in no uncertain terms that she didn’t believe Gabriella was not my mistress, and then had the audacity to demand I discontinue my association with Gabriella because it would be a source of embarrassment for Maryanne. When I questioned her further, Mrs. Allen informed me that everyone knows Maryanne and I have an unspoken agreement, which we don’t. When I pointed that out, Mrs. Allen completely lost control of her temper, and our conversation deteriorated from there.”

  “You need to make a public apology to her, something I would have asked you to do last night if I hadn’t arrived late to the ball and you’d already taken your leave.”