by Jen Turano
“Possibly, but I have high hopes he’ll return to enjoy the hunting season come fall. And my brothers are gallivanting around Europe, so they can’t help me either.”
“You cannot go off on holiday by yourself until the fall. It’s only July.” Beatrix looked out over the water for a long moment before she suddenly nodded. “I’ll have to come with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
Beatrix waved the protest aside. “It’s the only solution, even if that decision will certainly leave me at sixes and sevens with my mother.” Her eyes began to twinkle. “Did I tell you that my mother is still incredibly put out with me because I disguised myself as a jockey and took my filly around the track at Jerome Park a few times?”
“You neglected to mention anything about a jaunt to Jerome Park.”
“Well, I’m mentioning it now.” Beatrix released a dramatic sigh. “Mother is convinced I’ve finally stepped beyond the boundaries of proper decorum. That’s why I was deprived of a summer season in Newport this year and had my credit pulled from all the department stores.” Beatrix grinned. “I have to admit that racing my pony down the track at breakneck speeds was well worth missing out on the tried-and-true summer frivolities.”
“You’ve never enjoyed society’s frivolities, so I’m certain being deprived of a summer in Newport is not bothering you overly much, although . . .” Isadora tilted her head. “You do enjoy your shopping.”
“Which is why it’s fortunate I’ve saved my pin money over the years for a rainy day.”
Isadora nodded. “I’ve saved my pin money as well, and good thing I have since I’m going to need my rainy-day funds to see me through the next month or so, but you won’t be able to come with me.”
“Of course I’m coming with you. You’re not prepared to take off on a holiday on your own.”
Isadora turned and glanced over her shoulder, finding that while she’d been conversing with Beatrix, a gathering of gentlemen had assembled on the banks of the small lake. As soon as they seemed to notice her watching them, they immediately began waving, calling out invitations for her and Beatrix to join them.
Sending the gentlemen a halfhearted wave in return, while wishing there might come a day when she stepped outside the family mansion and wasn’t recognized as one of the great American heiresses, she turned around again and tightened her grip on the oars. Drawing in a breath, she began applying herself to the task of rowing the boat as fast as she could, wanting to put sufficient distance between her and the men so she’d be free to speak with Beatrix without being interrupted. Lifting her head a full minute later when she heard what sounded like sputtering, she found Beatrix looking remarkably soggy, the reason for that evidently being all the water her rowing was sending into the boat.
Isadora stopped rowing right as Beatrix leaned forward and held out her hands. Not wanting to argue with her friend, especially since Beatrix was looking more bedraggled than usual, which was saying something because Beatrix was not a lady who was ever overly concerned with her appearance, Isadora handed over the oars.
Not that she would admit it to Beatrix, but she was rather relieved to abandon the difficult chore of rowing. She was quite certain she’d pulled a muscle, and her arms were trembling like mad.
“I have no idea how you’ve convinced yourself you’re capable of striking out on your own on some type of holiday,” Beatrix said as she began rowing them smoothly across the lake, quickly putting distance between them and the gentlemen lingering on the shore.
“I’m not going on holiday.”
“So you’ve said, but surely you must realize that traveling around the country for a month or two is considered a holiday, especially if you decide to travel to some of the lovely resorts we’ve visited in the past—resorts I truly wouldn’t mind visiting again.”
Isadora picked up her parasol and angled it just so to keep the sun from her face. “Perhaps if I were to explain in some detail what I have planned, even though Mr. Godkin and Mr. Hatfield thought it best to leave you in the dark for your own good, you’d understand why it’s impossible for you to accompany me.”
“Am I to understand you haven’t been completely forthcoming?” Beatrix demanded as she released her hold on the oars. “I thought we were best friends.”
“We are best friends, and as such, you must know that when my mother discovers I’ve gone missing, you’ll be the first one she interrogates. Mr. Godkin and Mr. Hatfield convinced me it would be for the best to leave you out of most of this mess. In fact, I don’t think they’d approve of my disclosing the little bit to you I already have.”
Beatrix narrowed her eyes. “How in the world did your family butler, Mr. Godkin, and my family butler, Mr. Hatfield, get involved in what I’m going to assume is some type of outlandish plan?”
Glancing around to ascertain there were no other boats nearby, especially boats filled with the members of the press who were always trailing her around the city, Isadora breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered they were well away from everyone and turned her attention back to Beatrix.
“After Mother sent me packing from Newport, and in the company of the dour Miss Carr to chaperone me no less, I immediately sought out the counsel of Mr. Godkin. He may be our family butler, but he’s always been willing to lend me advice whenever I’ve been in need. He, after hearing my sad tale about the Duke of Montrose, sent for your butler, Mr. Hatfield, hoping Mr. Hatfield would have information about the duke since your butler used to live in London.”
“And did Mr. Hatfield have information about the duke?”
“I’m afraid so, and none of it encouraging.” Isadora leaned forward. “From what Mr. Hatfield disclosed, the duke is not an honorable man, and he’s also not a man used to being rejected. Because I delivered him a most grievous insult by abandoning him in the middle of the dance floor, Mr. Hatfield believes the duke will now want to seek out some manner of retribution.”
Beatrix frowned. “Surely you don’t believe a duke would stoop to that level, do you? I’ve always thought that aristocrats were a most snobbish sort. I would believe your insult of abandoning him on the dance floor would have been seen by him as a mortifying setdown, one he wouldn’t want to chance experiencing again.”
“I would have thought that as well, but according to Mr. Hatfield, the duke is a most self-centered man, one who can’t comprehend that a lady might not enjoy his company. Mr. Hatfield now fears the duke sees me as a challenge, one he’s determined to win.”
“He can’t win a challenge if you’re unwilling to participate in it.”
“He can if he somehow manages to set me up in a compromising situation, which would then force me into marriage.”
Beatrix’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Hatfield believes the duke capable of that type of duplicity?”
“He does.” Isadora shook her head. “I also got the distinct impression that Mr. Hatfield was holding something back about the duke, something he was reluctant to disclose, but something that compelled him to encourage me to leave the city as soon as possible. That something is also what I think is behind the plan he and Mr. Godkin want to put into play—a plan that will not work if you accompany me.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Beatrix pinned Isadora with a steely gaze. “Out with it. What is this plan?”
“All I feel comfortable telling you is that it’s a plan that will see me safely removed from the duke’s intentions while also keeping me well away from my mother’s demand that I accept the duke’s suit.”
“You must know that when your mother discovers you’ve left the city, she’ll hire on the Pinkertons to track you down.”
“I’m hoping that the letter I’ve already composed for her will dissuade her from doing that. She won’t want anyone to learn that I’ve fled because of her demands. And I also wrote in that letter that I won’t be returning to the city until after Father returns from his trip. He, I’m pleased to say, is not fond of the latest fashion of acquiring titles, so he’ll s
et my mother straight in a trice. I simply need to stay hidden until that happens.”
“How in the world do you think you’ll be able to remain hidden? You’re known as one of the greatest beauties of the day, your photograph graces the papers on an almost weekly basis, and you draw attention wherever you go—not that you do that on purpose, mind you, but that is what happens. You’ve also been, forgive me, remarkably sheltered your entire life, which means you’re ill equipped to take care of yourself.”
“I’m not completely helpless.”
Beatrix quirked a brow. “You’ve never dressed yourself.”
“True, but I’m sure I’ll be able to figure that out. In all truthfulness, I’m looking at this as a grand adventure, a chance to strike out on my own and leave all the attention I always receive behind me.”
“But it’s not acceptable for a young lady to travel unaccompanied.”
“It is if I’m not traveling as a society lady.”
Beatrix’s gaze sharpened on Isadora’s face. “You will explain that remark—and in depth, if you please.”
Relieved when a duck chose that moment to take flight, Isadora watched it glide across the water and land on a grassy hill that was devoid of people, save one lone man who, she was surprised to note, was waving her way in a manner that could only be described as enthusiastic. Setting aside her parasol, she leaned forward.
“Not that I’m trying to avoid answering you, Beatrix, but does that look like Mr. Hatfield over there?”
“Why would Mr. Hatfield be in Central Park?” Beatrix asked even as she turned her attention to the man Isadora was watching. “That is Mr. Hatfield, but what could he possibly be doing here?”
“Perhaps you should row us over there so we can ask him.”
Nodding, Beatrix soon had them skimming over the water, but for some reason, she suddenly stopped rowing before they reached the shore.
“I’ll take us all the way in after you finish explaining that statement you made about not traveling as a society lady,” Beatrix said.
“But what if Mr. Hatfield tracked us down to Central Park because he has a matter of great urgency to discuss with us?”
“Then I suggest you spit out your story quickly.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“You’ve known me practically all of our twenty-two years. Do you really think I’ll let it go?”
Isadora blew out a breath. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but not in detail. In fact, all I really think you need to know is that I’m truly not going on a flight of fancy or a holiday, but instead, I’m going, ah, undercover, so to speak, and . . . in disguise.”
“Disguised as what, pray tell?”
Isadora winced. “Now, don’t overreact, but I, along with Mr. Godkin and Mr. Hatfield, have decided I’ll be most successful with staying hidden if I disguise myself as a servant and obtain some type of . . . employment.”
For the briefest of seconds, Beatrix didn’t say a single thing, but then she was suddenly rising to her feet, quite as if she’d forgotten she was in a boat. “You have lost your mind because—”
Before Beatrix could finish what was certain to be a tirade, she suddenly lost her balance, and with flailing arms and a rustle of expensive fabric, she tumbled out of the boat, Isadora following a second later when the boat capsized.
Chapter 4
Floundering as her feet touched the bottom of the lake, Isadora regained her balance, relieved to discover the water only came up to her waist. As she glanced around for Beatrix, laughter bubbled up her throat when she discovered her friend thrashing about, water dripping from her now hatless head. Beatrix stopped thrashing as her gaze settled on Isadora.
“How in the world is it possible that you didn’t become completely submerged after you fell out of the boat?”
“I’m sure I have no idea, although luck might have been in play.”
“I doubt that, but do know that it’s highly disconcerting to discover that even when you’re thrust into a mishap, you always seem to manage to retain your composure.” Beatrix shoved aside hair that was plastered to her face before she looked past Isadora and frowned. “There’s no need for you to come in after us, Mr. Hatfield,” she called out. “Izzie and I are fine and will join you momentarily.”
With Beatrix by her side, Isadora began slogging her way to shore, noticing as she did that Mr. Hatfield was in the process of rolling down the legs of his trousers, apparently having rolled them up when he’d been considering plunging into the lake to rescue them.
Reaching the shore, she took the hand Mr. Hatfield extended to her and moved to drier land. Turning, she frowned at Beatrix, who was still in the water, scanning the surface of the lake.
“Miss Beatrix,” Mr. Hatfield said, releasing Isadora’s hand. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking about going after my hat. I’m currently on a limited budget, and I don’t have as many disposable funds as I normally do to replace a hat I found most charming.”
Mr. Hatfield shook his head. “There’s no time for that, and besides, your hat is most likely ruined. We must get you and Miss Isadora into the carriage, and with all due haste.”
Beatrix turned from the lake and frowned. “It’s not as if we’re in danger of catching a cold, Mr. Hatfield. It’s a balmy day.”
“I’m not worried about you catching cold, Miss Beatrix.” Mr. Hatfield gestured to the right. “I’m worried about all those gentlemen—along with a few reporters, if I’m not mistaken—being given enough time to intercept us.”
Isadora swiveled her head and found a crowd rushing around the edge of the lake, all of whom were evidently intent on assisting her and Beatrix.
“We should go,” she said, earning a nod from Beatrix in return. Picking up the sodden folds of her skirt, Isadora hurried into step behind Mr. Hatfield.
“While I have no idea why you stood up in a rowboat, Miss Beatrix,” Mr. Hatfield called over his shoulder, “your mishap may have given us the perfect excuse to whisk both of you from Central Park.” He increased his pace even as he raised a hand, which had a carriage moving their way. “I was concerned tracking the two of you to Central Park would raise some questions, but we’ve now been provided with a reasonable explanation as to why you’ll be departing from the park so rapidly.”
“Why would you worry about having an excuse to explain our departure from Central Park, and why are you even here?” Beatrix asked, huffing just a touch as she practically ran beside Isadora.
“There’s no time to explain just yet,” Mr. Hatfield said as the carriage stopped beside them. He grabbed hold of the door and pulled it open. “In you go.”
Before Isadora had a chance to properly take her seat, Mr. Hatfield was slamming the door shut behind him. The carriage lurched into motion, and then they were careening over the grass toward one of the gravel paths that meandered through Central Park.
Mr. Hatfield leaned forward and pulled two blankets from under the carriage seat, handing one to Beatrix and the other to Isadora. Sitting back on the seat, he removed his hat, then ran a hand through his hair.
Beatrix began wringing water from her skirt. “Is now a good time to ask what you’re doing here, Mr. Hatfield?”
“It’s difficult to know where to begin.”
“Does it have something to do with the ridiculous plan Izzie was just getting around to telling me—the one where she’s considering going off on her own to obtain some manner of employment?”
Mr. Hatfield settled a stern eye on Isadora. “You were not supposed to tell Miss Beatrix anything about our plan.”
“She was insisting on accompanying me when I told her I was going to leave the city. I really had no choice but to explain a bit about the plan so she’d understand why she couldn’t come.”
Mr. Hatfield turned his attention to Beatrix. “It’s imperative that you speak nothing about what I’m going to disclose after you quit this carriage, because I fear Miss Isadora’s very life is
in danger now.”
A trickle of fear traveled down Isadora’s spine. “My life is in danger?”
Mr. Hatfield gave a bob of his head. “Mr. Godkin recently sent me a most urgent message, telling me that the Duke of Montrose has arrived in the city, and . . . he’s currently at your residence on Fifth Avenue.”
Isadora’s brows drew together. “My mother had the audacity to bring the duke back to New York with her?”
“Your mother is still in Newport, which speaks volumes about the duke’s true intentions. He’s also accompanied by men Mr. Godkin described as intimidating, and because of that, we have no choice but to get you immediately out of the city.”
“That seems a bit drastic,” Beatrix said. “I’ve yet to be convinced this Duke of Montrose poses such a great threat to Izzie. He’s a duke. One would think he’d adhere to the strictest sense of decorum, not put his very reputation in jeopardy by participating in shenanigans.”
“He’s not a normal aristocrat,” Mr. Hatfield began as he caught Isadora’s eye. “And Mr. Godkin and I were not completely forthcoming regarding the extent of the danger the duke poses to you.”
“You told me he might try to put me in some manner of compromising situation,” Isadora said slowly.
“And I still believe he’ll do exactly that, but there’s something I need to disclose to convince you that you have more to fear from the duke than merely marriage.”
“I can’t imagine there’d be anything more fearful than marriage to that vile man.”
“There is, which is why Mr. Godkin and I came up with the idea of you hiding yourself in some obscure household as a servant.” Mr. Hatfield shook his head. “We know it’s completely ludicrous to even contemplate sending a sheltered heiress out on her own in the world, and we were actually considering revising the plan and having you take off in the company of a companion to visit the West.”
“Which would be a far more practical solution,” Beatrix pointed out.
“Indeed, if we were dealing with a merely determined gentleman, not a diabolical one,” Mr. Hatfield returned. “But allow me a moment to explain the duke more sufficiently. That will allow both of you to understand the urgency of the situation, as well as understand why it’s imperative Miss Isadora goes deep into hiding.”