by Jen Turano
Not feeling in an accommodating state of mind, Isadora abandoned every etiquette rule that had been drummed into her head since birth and snatched up another cake, making it impossible for Nigel to take her hand. Blinking, he stopped his advance.
Rallying quickly, he smiled. “And how are you acquainted with Ian?”
Knowing Ian was certain to make up some story about her, and unwilling to find herself suddenly boasting an impressive pedigree, even though she actually had one, she caught Nigel’s eye. “I’m his household manager.”
Jonathon abruptly spun around as Ian sent her a scowl, that telling reaction missed by Miss Moore and Nigel, who were now looking at her as if she were some type of hideous creature who had wandered into their midst.
“What is a household manager?” Miss Moore asked, raising a hand to her throat.
“It’s somewhat like a housekeeper,” Isadora said cheerfully. “I’m simply not expected to cook or iron, but that might be because I’ve been known to catch the oven on fire, and I once burned an impressive iron print into a pair of Mr. MacKenzie’s trousers.”
As Miss Moore blinked in stunned disbelief, Isadora abandoned all the etiquette rules again by stuffing a very large piece of cake into her mouth, deliberately smearing the icing on her lips in the process. Swallowing a moment later, because speaking with her mouth full would have been taking matters entirely too far, she smacked her lips. “Delicious.”
It took everything she had not to laugh as Miss Moore and Nigel simply stared at her in horror, until Nigel turned to Miss Moore, took her arm, and nodded. “While Mrs. Delmont is certainly charming, I’ve just noticed Mr. and Mrs. Bryce sitting over on the other side of the room. Shall we go greet them?”
Without bothering to say another word, Nigel and Miss Moore sauntered away, stopping as they reached a table where presumably Mr. and Mrs. Bryce were taking tea, along with a gentleman who had his back turned to Isadora.
“This isn’t the time,” she thought she heard Jonathon say before he resumed his seat, nodding to the chair Ian had abandoned.
Taking his seat, Ian drew in a deep breath, slowly released it, then drew in another as if he were having a difficult time controlling his temper.
“Have I missed something of importance?” Isadora asked, reaching for the teapot that had been left on the table and topping off Ian’s and Jonathon’s cups.
“It’s nothing,” Ian said as he picked up his cup, took a sip of tea, then sent her one of his charming smiles, the charm not as effective because his eyes were glittering with something disturbing.
“More cake?” Jonathon asked, setting another piece of cake on her plate before she could answer.
She lifted her chin. “I should tell both of you that I’m not a lady who appreciates being left in the dark. But since we are currently sitting in a lovely tearoom, where proper etiquette does demand that I don’t start shrieking at both of you like a fishmonger, I won’t press for explanations . . . for now.”
Jonathon’s lips twitched. “Not that I want to further aggravate you, but from the etiquette books I’ve read, aren’t ladies expected to use utensils when they’re enjoying cake?”
She grinned before she picked up her fork and stuck it into the cake. “Well, yes, but that was an extenuating circumstance, and besides, I couldn’t seem to help myself.” After polishing off her small cake, she looked at the piece of cake Jonathon had yet to touch. “Are you going to eat that? I’ve just realized I’m famished, and since I don’t need to worry about fitting into a ball gown two days from now . . .” She glanced to the cake on Jonathon’s plate again, smiling when he let out a bit of a sigh as he transferred the cake to her plate.
“You’re rather annoying,” he said, taking a sip of his tea.
“Izzie’s soon to be annoyed as well after she realizes she will be wearing a ball gown in two days,” Ian said, nodding to the cake on her plate. “That means you might want to go easy on that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to that ball with you. If you’ve forgotten, I’m your household manager. You don’t take your household manager to a ball where there will likely be influential men of business you need to impress.”
Ian folded his arms over his chest. “But because you are my household manager and I am your employer, you really have no choice but to agree to accompany me to the ball since I’ve decided I want you there with me.”
“I’ve never really done well with people trying to order me about, and—” She suddenly stopped talking when, for some unknown reason, the hair at the nape of her neck stood to attention.
Setting aside her fork, she lifted her head and looked around, freezing on the spot when she discovered the gentleman who’d been sitting at the table Nigel and Miss Moore had now joined, the one who’d had his back turned to her, was now looking her way, and . . . she knew him.
He was Mr. William Rives, a man heavily invested in the oil industry, and he was a friend of her father—and not just any friend, but one who’d often invited Isadora and her brothers on sailing expeditions with him on his yacht.
Calling herself every type of idiot because she’d let down her guard and gone out in public, mistakenly believing no one would recognize her, Isadora shoved her spectacles back into placee and all but jumped out of her seat, presenting her back to Mr. Rives.
Ian and Jonathon immediately stood, Ian’s brows drawing together. “Is something amiss?”
Isadora fought to think of something to say, her gaze settling on the cake. “Forgive me, I believe I may have consumed the cake too quickly, and as such, well, this is indelicate of me to mention, but I must seek out the retiring room.”
“Shall I go with you?” Ian asked.
She waved that away even as she took a step forward. “I’ll be fine, but because I don’t believe I’ll care to be around food for the foreseeable future, do finish your tea and cake. You can join me after you’re done. I’ll be up in, ah, ladies’ fashions—not looking for a ball gown, mind you—but merely seeing what, ah, new selections might be available.”
With that, and leaving Ian and Jonathon looking rather bemused, she bolted out of the tearoom, forcing herself to not turn and see if Mr. Rives was still watching her and praying if he was, he wouldn’t recognize the spectacle-wearing, drably dressed woman as Isadora Delafield, American heiress.
Chapter 30
“I should go after her,” Ian said, watching as Izzie all but fled from the tearoom.
“She won’t appreciate that. Women are sensitive about matters of digestion.” Jonathon sat down and nodded to Ian’s chair. “We’ll finish our tea and, after giving Izzie sufficient time in the retiring room, you can join her in ladies’ fashions. I have a clear view of the retiring room, so there’s no need to worry about her safety. I’ll know when she makes her exit.”
Resuming his seat, even though he did so reluctantly, Ian glanced to where Nigel was now deep in conversation with the people he’d joined at the table across the room. Ian’s temper immediately began to simmer.
“Are you of a like mind with me in believing it could very well be Nigel and his team of investors behind the accidents occurring at Glory Manor, what with how he said they’re interested in land south of here?” he asked, earning a nod from Jonathon in response.
“I am, although I’m a bit puzzled why he would have admitted his involvement with that endeavor. Nigel’s always taken an uncommon interest in your life. He must know you have family in that area.”
Ian picked up his tea. “Nigel’s consumed with adding to his fortune. He also knows that my main goal in life has been to increase my fortune as well. If I’m not mistaken, he can’t understand putting family before profitability and probably believes I’m cut from the same cloth.” Ian glanced to Nigel, who was now rising from the table, Miss Moore by his side. “I’m also sure he’s distanced himself from whomever he’s hired to do the dirty work of forcing folks from their farms. He wouldn’t want to hear the nasty details o
f what’s been needed to acquire the land, which will also allow him to plead ignorance if that person—probably Hank—gets apprehended.” He looked back to Jonathon. “I’m going to need proof Nigel’s involved before I can confront him.”
“That might be difficult to come by since he is a slippery sort. It’s unlikely he left a trail that can lead back to him, unless we can find Hank.”
“Hank’s not been seen since he claimed Uncle Amos chased him from Glory Manor. Although, if I’m right about him, he would be the one responsible for setting the barn on fire. Why he went to that extreme is anyone’s guess.”
Jonathon frowned. “I would think he did that out of frustration. Clearly he wasn’t going to be successful with driving your aunt and uncle off the land, not with the new hires you kept bringing on and the way the entire town showed up to bring Glory Manor back to life.”
“It was a cowardly act, setting fire to a barn with innocent animals trapped inside.”
Jonathon smiled. “Cowardly as it may be, cowards are normally rather accommodating when they’re caught. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d sell out everyone involved if we were able to track him down.”
“The problem is finding him.” Ian paused to gather his thoughts, narrowing his eyes when Nigel suddenly turned to him, inclined his head, then sent him a nasty smile before he began walking out of the tearoom with Miss Moore on his arm.
He looked back to Jonathon. “What if Hank’s a Pittsburgh resident? What if he returned here to lick his wounds because of the failure he’d experienced with Glory Manor?”
“That could be, which would make it easier to track him down since I have numerous contacts here I could prevail upon to keep an eye out for him.” Jonathon leaned forward. “Tell me everything you know about Hank.”
All that Ian knew was disclosed in minutes. Then, and because Izzie had yet to come out of the retiring room, he told Jonathon about Roy Duffy.
“Do you need me to go with you to begin the search for Hank?” Ian asked as he pulled out his wallet to settle the bill for the tea and cakes.
“I’ll be fine on my own. The children need to be told about their father. You take care of that, and I’ll take care of hunting Hank.”
“I’m not sure how to go about telling the children their father’s dead.”
“Children are resilient, Ian, as you and I know firsthand,” Jonathon said. “They’ll certainly be sad and need to mourn their father, but if you ask me, they’re going to be relieved to learn he didn’t intentionally abandon them. That will go far in soothing the anguish of his death.”
“I hope you’re right.” He glanced to the ladies’ retiring room and frowned. “She’s been in there a long time.”
“Did you see how quickly she consumed those cakes?”
Ian grinned. “Did you see how she deliberately smeared the icing all over her mouth?”
“She’s an interesting lady,” Jonathon said, returning the grin. “And not that I’m about to try my hand at matchmaking, as so many people seem to do around you, but . . . she suits you.”
“Sounds like an attempt at matchmaking to me” was all Ian could think to say, even though he was beginning to come to the same conclusion.
Instead of addressing that, Jonathon checked his pocket watch. “If I find Hank, do you want me to bring him to you or take him to the authorities and then fetch you?”
“Bring him to me.”
Jonathon inclined his head and without another word strode from the tearoom.
After paying the bill, Ian walked to the retiring room and leaned against the wall as the minutes ticked away. Finally, the door began opening ever so slowly and Izzie peeked out, her gaze immediately returning to the tearoom before she let out what sounded like a breath of relief, then jumped when she caught sight of him.
“Ian, you just scared me half to death.”
Frowning as he looked her over, Ian extended his arm, which she immediately took. “Why is your hat pulled so low over your face? I’m surprised you can see.”
Izzie started forward, her pace unusually rapid as she steered him past the tearoom and toward the elevator. “I was having difficulty with the pins,” she finally said, stopping in front of the elevator even as she glanced over her shoulder quite as if she were searching for someone.
“Is something amiss?”
She turned back around. “Just making certain that horrid Miss Moore isn’t lurking around to ambush me with more of her snotty remarks or ridiculous invitations.”
“It wasn’t a ridiculous invitation. I want to take you to the ball.”
“Then be prepared for disappointment because I won’t be attending it with you.”
“Because you believe it’s unseemly for a household manager to attend a ball?”
The smile she sent him was entirely too innocent. “Indeed.”
Before he could press her, though, the elevator door opened. He couldn’t say he was surprised when Izzie asked the operator to take them to the children’s department instead of ladies’ fashions.
Thirty minutes later, and after Izzie had instructed the staff at Joseph Horne Company to deliver the goods she’d selected to his house on Fifth Avenue, and after he’d settled the details of the bill, they left the store.
Izzie kept glancing every which way, but when he asked her if she was still on the lookout for Miss Moore, she dismissed that with a smile and a shrug as she allowed him to assist her into the carriage his driver had already pulled up to the curb.
“Why don’t you take this carriage to work in the morning instead of riding in the horse car?” she asked as the carriage rumbled into motion.
Even though he longed to press her on her peculiar behavior, Ian knew it would be a wasted effort since Izzie was once again putting to good use her proficiency for distraction. Sending her a frown, one she missed because her hat was now almost entirely obstructing her eyes and seemed to be pushing her dreadful spectacles down her nose, he settled back against the seat. “Calling for my carriage every morning is a bit of a bother. I don’t have stables yet, so my horses, along with my carriages, are kept at a livery stable, which isn’t close to the house.”
“Are you going to build a stable?”
“Eventually, especially since I would like to have Rumor with me in Pittsburgh. I just haven’t gotten around to finding the time to design a stable or hire on someone to design and build it for me.”
“The children should be taught how to ride, and sooner rather than later at that. I could arrange to have a stable built if you don’t have the time.”
The mention of the children reminded him of the troubling business he needed to discuss with her. Abandoning his seat opposite her, he sat down directly next to her.
“Speaking of the children . . .” he began. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news.”
“Does it have something to do with the exchange you had with that nasty Nigel—who I’m going to say is a most disagreeable man. Makes me glad I didn’t change Elmer’s name to Nigel, because Elmer, even with her propensity for pecking my legs, is nowhere near as odious as Nigel. I told you men named Nigel are shifty sorts, and here’s the proof.”
“No truer words have ever been said, but he’s not involved with what I need to tell you.” He paused for a second and then decided it would be for the best to simply spit out the whole awful disclosure. “I found out Roy Duffy, the children’s father, died weeks ago in a mill accident.”
Izzie drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widened in horror, and she suddenly grabbed hold of his hand. “How devastating for the children. You must tell me what happened, and don’t spare me the details. I need to know everything so I’ll be better prepared to answer the questions the children are bound to ask.”
With her eyes sparkling with tears, she listened to his story unfold. When he finished, and because the tears were beginning to trail down her cheeks, he gathered her into his arms, holding her close.
“What will happen to them?�
� she whispered into his jacket.
“They’ll stay with me.”
She pushed herself from his chest. “You’re going to raise them?”
He nodded. “I can’t very well get rid of them, not when they’ve somehow stolen my heart.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “They could probably use a feminine influence in their lives.”
She sent him a wobbly smile. “I’m sure Miss Lillian Moore would be more than happy to apply for that position.”
“I’m not so certain about that after what happened at the tearoom.” He smiled. “I have a feeling, what with how I went against Andrew Carnegie today, as well as the rest of the owners and investors in the mills, that I’m about to find myself not quite as sought after by the society set.”
“Are you disappointed about that?”
Ian frowned. “I suppose I should be, because it’s been my plan for years to be accepted into society. However, no . . . I’m not overly disappointed, although I can’t explain why.”
“Perhaps it’s because, as Aunt Birdie often says, you’ve finally discovered the path God wants you to be on, and you now realize that what you thought you wanted isn’t what you really wanted after all.”
“You might be exactly right, but getting back to that feminine . . .”
Disappointment swept over him when the carriage pulled into the drive leading up to his house before he could finish the thought, which faded when the arrival of the carriage was greeted by children spilling out the front door, Sparky chasing after them, Elmer bringing up the rear.
“I get the oddest feeling Elmer’s decided she’s a dog,” Izzie said, looking out the window before she returned her attention to him. “Would you like me with you when you tell the children?”
“Would that be too much to ask?”
“Not at all, and I say the sooner we tell them, the better.”
Wishing she wasn’t right but knowing she was, Ian stepped from the carriage when it pulled to a stop, helping Izzie out before he found himself surrounded by children. Giving Henry’s hair a ruffle while picking up Violet, who immediately wrapped her thin arms around his neck, Ian turned to Izzie, who was already holding Daisy in her arms and smiling down at Prim, who was telling her all about the day they’d spent with Miss Olive.