At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella

by Jen Turano

  “Your proposal took me by complete surprise.”

  Edgar nodded. “I realized that almost as soon as it popped out of my mouth and you turned a concerning shade of white. But, in my defense, it never crossed my mind that you hadn’t come to the same conclusion I had—that conclusion being that we’d spend our lives together. We were the closest of friends.”

  Her shoulders took to drooping. “I know we were, but in my defense, I was young, selfish, and somewhat self-absorbed the night of my debut.” She released a tiny sigh. “Quite honestly, it wasn’t as if the thought had never crossed my mind that you and I might very well see ourselves married at some point in the future—the very distant future. However, on that particular evening, my only clear objective was to be admired and fawned over as I made what I hoped was going to be a most spectacular debut.”

  Edgar brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a quick kiss on it. “You were absolutely beautiful that night, deserved to bask in all the attention you were receiving, and . . .” He smiled and lowered her hand. “If it makes you feel less guilty, do know that I’ve come to believe that your rejection was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me.”

  Chapter

  Four

  “You’re thankful I rejected your offer?” Wilhelmina all but sputtered.

  To her extreme annoyance, Edgar didn’t hesitate to nod. “But of course. To refresh your memory, I was quite aimless before you rejected me. My older brother, if you’ll recall, was responsible for taking over the family business while I was left to do whatever I pleased.” His smile dimmed. “While you and I know many second sons who embrace a frivolous lifestyle, I was beginning to find that frivolous life quite boring, and was counting on my marriage to you to change that.”

  “May I assume you decided that you would have grown bored with me as well?” The indignation bubbling up inside her was making it a little difficult to think.

  He winced. “That didn’t come out nearly the way I intended, and I fear I may very well be making a muddle of this.”

  “Too right you are.”

  He sent her one of his most charming of smiles, the one he’d always brought out whenever he’d done something to annoy her in the past. The sight of it had her stomach feeling as if an entire flock of butterflies had begun fluttering through it, a feeling she didn’t appreciate in the least—especially considering how annoyed she was with the gentleman at the moment.

  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he continued, although Wilhelmina wasn’t exactly certain what they’d gotten out of the way, “I’d like to offer you a sincere apology for the distress I caused you all those years ago.”

  She waved his apology aside. “You’ve already apologized, Edgar. And again, I was more at fault than you that night.”

  “I ruined what should have been one of your most memorable nights.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything.”

  “You weren’t upset that I called you a brat and told you that you’d be sorry for years and years to come that I’d never again be in your life?”

  “Well, when you remind of those particular memories, yes, I was upset with you, but . . .” She smiled. “After you stormed away from my father’s house, there were quite a few gentlemen who seemed very keen to try and cheer me up.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re still a bit of a brat, aren’t you.”

  Getting up from the bench, she sent him a grin before she began wandering down one of the aisles, not surprised when he joined her. Stopping beside an unusual purple flower, she leaned forward to give it a sniff. “While I freely admit that I once fit the description of a brat to perfection, I’m afraid I have far too many responsibilities these days to indulge myself with that particular attitude.”

  Edgar reached out and traced a finger down the curve of her cheek, his touch lodging the breath in her throat. “I’ve heard from my mother that your father does not seem to be well these days. In fact, according to her, he’s not seen out and about in the city at all.”

  Resisting the urge to sigh when he stopped touching her cheek, Wilhelmina took hold of the arm Edgar offered her and started down the path. “He never leaves the house,” she admitted. “And what I’m about to tell you is not well-known information. You see, when Father learned he’d lost the majority of his fortune in a shipping deal gone bad two years ago, he became embroiled in an argument with Mr. Jonathon Melville, the man he’d trusted to see the deal through. While Father was engaged in that heated argument, he, unfortunately, suffered an apoplectic fit. He lost his ability to speak for three months, and while he has made some improvements recovering his speech and mobility, he’s turned morose over losing his fortune, and quite honestly, I believe he’s given up all interest in living.”

  Edgar pulled her to a stop. “Your father lost everything?”

  Wilhelmina nodded. “I’m afraid he did, or almost everything. He’d overextended himself you see, or so the bankers have told me, to cover the shipping investment. When the entire fleet of ships went down while crossing the ocean, most of my father’s money went down with them.”

  “The entire fleet went down?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “And this Mr. Melville—he suffered a great loss as well?”

  “We haven’t see Mr. Melville since he dashed out of our old house on Park Avenue—leaving Father writhing about on the ground, no less.”

  Edgar’s dark brows drew together. “You said your old house on Park Avenue. May I assume you were forced to move out of it due to lack of funds?”

  “We were forced to sell all but one of our homes, including the cottage on Long Island.” She summoned up a smile when she realized Edgar had taken to looking downright horrified. “However, we were able to retain that little house my mother’s aunt left her years ago, the one that’s located on the less-than-fashionable side of Gramercy Park, so it’s not as if we were cast out into the streets.”

  Lifting her gloved hand, Edgar placed a kiss on it. “Why didn’t you simply marry well in order to avoid having to sell all of your father’s property? From what I’ve been told, you spent quite a few seasons fending off one proposal after another.”

  Ignoring the shivers that had started inching up her arm the moment his lips touched her gloved hand, Wilhelmina tilted her head. “Keeping an eye on me over the years, were you?”

  Edgar smiled. “My mother, while remarkably stingy with news of you, did see fit to write to me about your many conquests.” He shook his head. “In all honesty, I think she passed those tidbits along as a way of discouraging me from continual wallowing over the years in regard to you and your rejection.”

  “I’m surprised your mother didn’t write to tell you about my fall from grace,” Wilhelmina muttered, earning another smile from Edgar in the process.

  “Given the extent of your fall, and the fact that you’ve apparently taken up a position that has you working as a social secretary, or so Miss Kasson told me, I’m surprised as well. Although . . .” Edgar tilted his head. “Now that I think about it, it’s not really so surprising that Mother never mentioned how dire your situation had turned.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Not when I take into account how upset she’s been with you over the years for not becoming her daughter-in-law—a relationship I believe she’d been looking forward to embracing. Because of that, I can certainly see her withholding information that might have sent me racing off to your rescue.”

  Unexpected tears took that moment to cloud Wilhelmina’s vision. Dashing a hand over her eyes, she plopped down on the nearby bench and released a bit of a watery-sounding snort. “I wouldn’t have expected you to race to my rescue, Edgar, especially not given the abhorrent manner in which I’d treated you.”

  As he sat beside her, Edgar captured a tear she’d missed with his finger. “We may have parted on less than amicable terms, Wilhelmina, but you were my dearest friend throughout my childhood, and a bit beyon
d. Because of that, you should have known that I was a person you could always count on.”

  Wilhelmina struggled to hold additional tears at bay. “Did your mother ever mention anything to you about a gentleman by the name of Mr. Holland?”

  “Of course she did, although she didn’t go into any particulars except to tell me he was one of your many admirers. But even if this Mr. Holland was a gentleman you cared deeply about, I would have still offered you my assistance if you had need of it.”

  A single tear leaked out of her eye, one she hid by dipping her head and pretending an interest in a somewhat ordinary yellow flower. “I never cared deeply about Mr. Holland, Edgar. He was very diligent as he went about the whole business of courting me, but a part of me knew that something simply wasn’t right with him. He was always too well-dressed, too charming, and paid too much attention to me.”

  “You took issue with him because he paid too much attention to you?”

  “I did because it was a deliberate attention, although I didn’t realize that at the time. But then, when he ended his courtship of me because he needed to marry a woman of fortune, well . . . everything became crystal clear. In all honesty, I was somewhat relieved to have him out of my life, but then he went and started the most dreadful rumors about me, implying there was something wrong with me. That right there is what set society against me and saw me banished to the wallflower section.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Edgar began before he suddenly took to cracking his knuckles. “But tell me, where is Mr. Holland now?”

  With her spirits lifting the moment she heard him crack his knuckles, Wilhelmina pulled her attention away from the yellow flower and smiled. “It’s very sweet of you to adopt such a protective attitude on my behalf, Edgar. But sad as I am to tell you this, I’m afraid Mr. Holland is no longer in the city. He’s sailing about the world on a yacht his new wife bought for him, a wife who had quite the impressive fortune, and a fortune she was apparently all too willing to share with Mr. Holland if he agreed to marry her.”

  She shook her head somewhat sadly. “I’m afraid the current Mrs. Holland was under the impression Mr. Holland was a bit of a prize.”

  “Perhaps by now, she’d appreciate me teaching Mr. Holland some manners then.”

  “Since she’s not sailing on that yacht around the world with him, Edgar, you probably have a most excellent point, but again, he’s not in New York.”

  Edgar cracked his knuckles one more time. “Very well, I won’t be able to deal with him just yet. But mark my words, Mr. Holland will be made to pay for his abuse of you. It’s simply a question of when.”

  Unable to help but wonder how in the world she’d been so ridiculous back in the day to let this very honorable, and incredibly sweet, gentleman get away from her, Wilhelmina forced a smile. “Goodness, Edgar, there’s no need for you to turn all threatening on my behalf. That nasty business with Mr. Holland happened ages ago, and I assure you, I’m quite over it.”

  “If you were quite over the embarrassment of Mr. Holland’s abandonment, and then your subsequent tumble down the society ladder, you wouldn’t have bothered to try and hide from me earlier.”

  Not quite knowing what to do with the idea that Edgar still seemed to understand her far too well, Wilhelmina gave a bit of a shrug. “Perhaps I was simply trying to hide from you because I didn’t know what to say to you after all these years.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “That excuse would have been more believable if you’d been at a loss for words for more than a second since I’ve been in your company.”

  Narrowing her eyes right back at him, Wilhelmina found herself caught in his gaze, the intensity having her breath catching in her throat. Knowing he was not going to be distracted from the subject at hand, she allowed her shoulders to sag ever so slightly. “Oh, very well. You’re right. I was embarrassed and didn’t want you to see how far I’ve fallen in the world.”

  Both of her hands were suddenly taken in his. “You, my darling friend, are not, and could never be, defined by the position you hold within society.”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ve been defined by society as nothing more than a wallflower these days.”

  Drawing her closer, he tipped her chin up and met her gaze. “You may be known as a wallflower to society, Wilhelmina, but I’ll always think of you as the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known.”

  With that, and before she could do more than let out the tiniest of sighs, he leaned closer to her, his breath warm against her face right before he claimed her lips with his own.

  Just when her entire body began tingling in a most delicious fashion, a blast of cold air swirled around them, the unexpectedness of it having her pulling her lips from Edgar’s.

  Swiveling around on the bench, every tingle she’d been feeling disappeared as dread settled over her when she caught sight of Mrs. Travers marching her way.

  To Wilhelmina’s concern, the lady was not alone but was accompanied by two ladies, both of whom were dusted with snow and one of whom turned out to be Miss Permilia Griswold.

  Miss Griswold, Wilhelmina couldn’t help but notice, was in the process of sending looks of extreme annoyance to the other young lady, that annoyance, for some odd reason, calming a bit of the dread that had taken to sinking into Wilhelmina’s very bones.

  Coming to a stop a few feet away from where Wilhelmina was sitting, Mrs. Travers lifted her chin and folded her arms over her chest.

  “I was hoping Miss Lucy Webster,” Mrs. Travers began, nodding to the young lady standing beside her, a young lady Wilhelmina realized must be Miss Griswold’s stepsister, “was mistaken when she sought me out and whispered that she’d seen you disappear with Mr. Wanamaker, but . . . clearly that is not the case. So . . . explain yourself, Miss Radcliff.”

  “Ah . . . well, you see . . .”

  “I’ll take it from here, darling,” Edgar said, moving a step away from the bench he’d risen from the moment Mrs. Travers had marched into the room. Presenting Mrs. Travers with a bow, he straightened. “Allow me to assure you, Mrs. Travers, that there is absolutely nothing untoward transpiring at the moment. In fact, it is my great pleasure to disclose to you that, right in the midst of your delightful ball, Miss Wilhelmina Radcliff has finally agreed to become . . . my wife.”

  Chapter

  Five

  “Ah, darling, how wonderful that you’ve finally decided to grace me with your delightful presence. One would have thought you might have considered seeking me out earlier, what with all the questions you left me with after our little talk we shared late last night.”

  Handing his heavy greatcoat to Mr. Hodges, the family butler, Edgar lifted his head and set his sights on his mother, Nora Wanamaker.

  Curiously enough, he found her sitting smack-dab in the middle of the entranceway with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The chair she was sitting in was one that normally resided in the drawing room, as was the small table that was right beside the chair, and the fact that her slipper-clad feet were resting on a small pouf of a footstool had him struggling to swallow a laugh.

  “I do beg your pardon, Mother,” he began, wiping his feet on the entranceway mat before walking in her direction. “I’m afraid the weather is beyond dreadful today, so it took me longer than expected to take care of business around the city this morning. However, foul weather aside, you haven’t been sitting here long, have you?” he asked, leaning down to place a kiss on his mother’s upturned cheek.

  After he straightened, Nora immediately took to consulting a small watch pinned to the underside of her sleeve. “I’ve been waiting here for exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes.”

  “Why in the world wouldn’t you have simply waited for me in the drawing room, where I’m sure there’s a roaring fire in the fireplace and a lovely view of the snow-covered trees from the windows?”

  “And chance missing you again?” Nora folded her hands primly in her lap. “I think not. After returni
ng home from the ball, you, my dear boy, were unsatisfactorily vague about where matters stood with Wilhelmina. Because of that, I’m sorry to say that I eventually came to the conclusion that you might very well try your hand at avoidance tactics—your goal with that being, of course, to avoid me.”

  A scraping noise distracted Edgar from the slightly concerning conversation he was sharing with his mother. Turning, he discovered Mr. Hodges dragging a chair—one that matched the chair his mother was sitting in—across the entranceway. Angling it exactly so, Mr. Hodges gestured Edgar toward it.

  Not caring to disappoint the butler who’d taken to moping his brow with a handkerchief—the exertion from the dragging apparently having been a bit much for the man—Edgar settled into the chair and accepted the cup of tea his mother poured for him from a silver pot resting on her small table. Taking a sip, he regarded his mother and Mr. Hodges, refusing to sigh when they took to watching him in what could only be described as an anticipatory way.

  “What do you think?” Nora asked when he lowered the cup.

  “About your suspicious nature, or . . . something else?”

  “The tea, dear,” she said with a sniff. “I don’t possess a suspicious nature.”

  “Of course you don’t, especially given the unusual occurrence of you taking up a position in the entranceway.”

  He thought he heard his mother mutter something about “Daunting circumstances call for unusual methods” before she tugged the shawl more snuggly around herself. “The entranceway suits me this morning.” She lifted her nose in the air. “But returning to the tea . . . ?”

  Taking another sip of tea, he smiled. “It’s excellent as I’m certain you already know.”

  Nora picked up her own cup and saluted him with it. “Your friend Mr. Asher Rutherford sent the tea to me the other day, seeking my opinion about the blend before he makes a firm decision on whether or not to stock it in his charming shop.” Her eyes turned rather distant. “Asher is such a dear, sweet boy, one whom I have to imagine never gives his mother a second of trouble.”