Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express)

by Heather B. Moore

  Cover photograph by Melea Nelson.

  Visit www.meleanelson.com

  Cover design by Michelle Fryer

  Special thanks to Mark Nelson and the Heber Valley Railroad who provided the trains for the cover photoshoot. For more information, visit www.hebervalleyrr.org

  Cover design copyright © 2021 by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  American Fork, Utah

  Copyright © 2021 by Heather B. Moore

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.

  First Printing: April 2021

  ISBN 978-1-52441-544-0

  For Julie, Jenny, and Jen

  I’m blessed to call you friends.

  Praise for Heather B. Moore

  “In Until Vienna, Gigi and Clyde, both suffering from broken hearts, meet on an art tour. They become friends, and pledge to remain only that, even though a group of well meaning matchmakers thrusts the pair together at every turn. An entertaining cast of characters and an array of romantic settings make this a story not to be missed.”

  —Jennifer Moore, author Wrong Train to Paris

  “A lovely story of second chances. Gigi and Professor Haskins have both been stung by past loves, but as they ride the Orient Express across Europe, the wonderful journey provides the perfect setting for their friendship to grow into something more. Until Vienna is a luxurious adventure full of heart and humor and loves of the greatest kinds.”

  —Julie Daines, author It Started in Budapest

  “Get ready to laugh at all the humor in this beautiful romance. I’m in love with the quirky Aunt Rowena and her matchmaking failures that just might work!”

  —Jen Geigle Johnson, author Song of Salzburg (coming August 2021)

  Acknowledgments

  When I went to a publisher’s meeting in 2019, I had little idea that a series idea would be born, then take off on wings of its own accord soon after. Julie Daines, Jennifer Moore, and Jen Geigle Johnson were all in attendance, and history was made in mere moments when we decided it would be fun to write a series together. Working on a long-term project with someone really exposes the core of that person. I am blessed that all of these women were wonderful to work with and their creativity was both inspiring and impressive. Julie Daines finished her book first, and since I hadn’t even begun mine, I was a bit apprehensive to read it. I’d been part of the planning stages for the series as a whole, but what had Julie created from all of it? I needn’t have worried because Julie’s story was captivating, fun, and delightful to read. Of course that put the pressure back onto me to also rise to the occasion. Months later, when I had completed my own book, and read Jennifer’s and Jen’s, I felt absolutely blessed. And pleased. And excited to present the series to our readers.

  Thank you to these good authors, who work hard at their craft and take pride and special care in their story creations.

  Thank you to our publisher, who supported our ideas from the very beginning and encouraged us along the way.

  Thank you to our editors, namely Ashley Gebert, who worked on my particular story and caught all the things and pushed my book to be stronger and more cohesive. Also, thanks to Kami Hancock, who had her hand in the entire project, keeping us all in line. Many thanks to Amy Parker, who is our champion in marketing. And our cover design team, including art director Margaret Weber, was stellar, as always. Many more at Covenant had a hand in the production of these books, and I’m so appreciative of that bridge from my hands to yours.

  Thank you to my family for patiently listening to my “book talk” even when they can’t keep track of whether I’m reading a book, researching a book, or actually writing one.

  And thank you to the historians, artists, and archivists who have preserved history so we can once again visit it.

  Chapter One

  Summer 1900

  Ever since Gigi was old enough to know her name, she’d realized life wasn’t fair. And she realized that her aunt, Rowena Georgina Ballard, always got her wish. But didn’t Gigi’s sixty-five-year-old aunt deserve to have her way when she’d seen a thing or two in life, had her own money to spend, and was in fair health?

  Except when the wish interfered with Gigi’s life. Rowena Georgina Ballard II’s life, that was.

  Yes, typically, sons were named after their fathers, and daughters might have a middle name after a mother or aunt or grandmother. But an entire name? Warranting a number after it?

  Such was the fate of Gigi.

  The second.

  “Gigi!” her mother hollered from the bottom of the stairs of their London townhome. “Aunt Rowena will be here within the hour, and you’ve still to practice the sonata she wants to hear you play tonight.”

  “I’m on my way, Mother,” Gigi called.

  Gigi hid her sigh because her dear mother had the ears of a basset hound. If there was one thing the Ballard family did not do, it was disrespect the woman who held the purse strings for all of them. Since Father’s death two years before, they’d been forced to sell their home, pay off debts, and move into this London town house owned by Aunt Rowena.

  “You’d better go,” Gigi’s sister, Lillian, drawled from across the corridor, where her bedroom door was partly open.

  Lillian Rose Ballard had a name not handed down from anyone in the family—a name to call her own.

  She was also engaged to be married in three months’ time to the esteemed Bart Anderson, who worked at a prestigious bank. This meant that Gigi was officially the least accomplished out of the entire Ballard clan. The age of twenty-four was almost unheard of to be single. A few decades ago, she would have been dubbed a spinster. In the year 1900, she had a little more leeway. But not much.

  Lillian’s recent engagement hadn’t helped curb their mother’s apprehension over her oldest daughter’s fate.

  But Gigi was completely content in her role as a part-time dressmaker. Her mother wouldn’t let her work more than a few hours a day since she believed Gigi needed to be well rested for any social events. That included perfecting her piano playing so that her mother could demand a performance anytime they were in mixed company.

  With another sigh, Gigi rose from her writing desk, where she’d been stitching piping on a sleeve. She wanted to present her design idea to Mrs. Stanton, the woman who ran the dress shop. Adding unique touches to clothing was something Gigi enjoyed doing; she just had to convince Mrs. Stanton of the value.

  Walking into the corridor, she was surprised to see how advanced the day had become. The afternoon sun bathed the front entryway in gold and orange. No wonder her mother was on edge. She hurried down the stairs, then entered the drawing room where the piano sat. Once she settled onto the bench, smoothed out her full skirt, and adjusted her shirtwaist, she placed her hands on the ivory keys.

  The notes of the sonata were light, and after a few times through, Gigi felt comfortable enough with it to please her mother. Aunt Rowena was a tad harder to please, and Gigi would not be spared any criticism from that corner.

/>   Gigi was still practicing when the front knocker sounded. She paused as she listened for the butler’s shuffling steps. Mr. Carson should have long since retired, but Aunt Rowena was paying his salary, so no one in the town house had a say in his employment.

  The knocking sounded a second time before Carson reached the door and opened it.

  The familiar murmured voices told Gigi that her aunt had arrived.

  After only a handful of moments, Aunt Rowena swept into the drawing room wearing a wide hat topped with artificial flowers and feathers. The plum color of her dress matched the plum-dyed feathers on her hat, and her silver-threaded hair was done up in an elaborate pompadour. Her walking stick completed her bold outfit.

  “There you are, Georgina,” Aunt Rowena said. “You will not believe what I’ve come across. We must speak to your mother at once.”

  Gigi had no chance to reply because her mother appeared at that very moment.

  “Rowena, how lovely that you’re early.”

  “Ah, pish.” Aunt Rowena waved a gloved hand before she took a seat on a wing-backed chair that had seen better days. “Hester, I’ve news to share.” She opened her handbag and pulled out a brochure.

  Gigi leaned forward as Aunt Rowena used some ceremony to open the brochure. She cleared her throat and began to read:

  “Join Professor Clyde Haskins on the Orient Express for a tour of a lifetime. We will begin at the Exposition Universelle in Paris and spend a delightful day visiting the international art exhibition as special guests of Colonel Weston, the Commissaire Expert des Beaux-Arts. At each major stop along the journey, we will visit world-renowned museums, from the Louvre Museum in Paris all the way to the Hagia Sophia Museum in Constantinople. We will depart from the most important cities after spending a day or two in each splendid location. On the return trip, we will remain on the Orient Express. Once we arrive in Paris, we’ll spend another three days exploring the Exposition.”

  Gigi’s mother looked duly impressed. Gigi, on the other hand, couldn’t help but think of all the time and money this type of tour would take. Only the very wealthy could afford it. Someone like Aunt Rowena, to be sure, and those people who drove around in those shiny automobiles. What were they called? The carriage of the future?

  “How fascinating,” her mother murmured when Aunt Rowena had finished reading the brochure in its entirety, including the amenities on the Orient Express, such as world-renowned chefs and private berths in first class.

  Aunt Rowena folded the brochure and, with a triumphant smile, said, “The members of my whist club are all going, save for Agnes, so we need a fourth player. And I have already booked passage. We leave next week.”

  “We?” her mother echoed.

  “I’ll need a companion, Hester,” Aunt Rowena said. “Although I will be with my two friends, we are all older women. So we will need a younger person with us to fetch and carry our belongings if needed. Bring Lillian in, and we can begin to make plans.”

  “Lillian?” Mother asked. “She’s planning a wedding, and this tour is an entire month long. There is no way that she—”

  “Georgina, then.” Aunt Rowena’s light-blue eyes landed on Gigi.

  Gigi straightened in surprise. “Me?”

  Aunt Rowena waved a hand. “Yes, you. I don’t expect you to appreciate this as much as Lillian would since you’re always bent over a piece of lace or sagging hem, but I can’t very well travel without a companion. What if there are unscrupulous men on this tour who wish to take advantage of a wealthy widow?”

  “Unscrupulous men on an art museum tour?”

  Aunt Rowena’s wrinkles congregated into a frown. “Are you a parrot? I’ll have you know that I’m quite the catch.”

  Gigi wouldn’t laugh, not now. No, that would take place in her bedroom later. But now that she thought about it, there were probably plenty of older gentlemen who wouldn’t mind being married to a wealthy woman no matter her personality.

  Besides, Gigi wasn’t one to judge. She had youth on her side, and she’d had not one offer. Not even Jimmy Dorsal. Everyone had thought he was sweet on her—but then he’d gone ahead and proposed to Mary Wright. It was all very well. Gigi hadn’t been truly in love. More hopeful, she told herself. That’s why she’d been disappointed. If she’d been in love with Jimmy Dorsal, she would have been devastated.

  Nearly a year had passed since then, and she could barely remember the wave of his dark hair, the amused gleam in his crystal-blue eyes, the quirk of his mouth when he listened to one of her shop stories, and how when they danced, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the room . . .

  And more recently, she’d had three different men pay attention to her, sending flowers, asking her on walks or rides, but then something would happen. Something that Gigi didn’t understand. Each one had gone completely silent. First there was Richard Turley, a talented musician. Then there was Phillip Brandon, a banker. Yes, he was ten years older, but they had seemed to be a good match. Until they weren’t.

  Finally, there was Reggie Mann, who worked with his father at their general store. Gigi had liked him well enough, and she was just beginning to think he might propose when he’d sent a note around, apologizing profusely.

  Dear Miss Ballard,

  I have enjoyed our acquaintance as of late. I must offer my most sincere apologies because I will have to break our upcoming plans. In addition, I will not be calling upon you again.

  My sincere wishes for your happiness,

  Reggie Mann

  “You are a catch for any distinguished gentleman,” her mother soothed, patting Aunt Rowena’s arm. “And Gigi would love to go with you.”

  Gigi frowned. Was this not her decision? Apparently not, because her mother and aunt had now moved on to discussing what needed to be prepared, purchased, and packed. Two weeks. They were leaving in two weeks.

  “What about my job?” Gigi blurted. “I can’t leave Mrs. Stanton in a bind.”

  Both women on the other side of the room stopped talking and looked at her as if she’d just declared that she’d turned into a horse.

  Aunt Rowena’s mouth twitched. “You cannot be serious, Georgina. This is the trip of a lifetime. Mrs. Stanton can survive among her fripperies and feathers without your help, I daresay. Isn’t that right, Hester?”

  Gigi’s mother’s face flushed, but she rushed to assure Aunt Rowena that she was indeed right.

  Gigi’s heart sank. Aunt Rowena always got her way. Twenty minutes ago, Gigi’s life had been predictable and plain, just how she liked it. Now she’d be living in close quarters with her aunt and her aunt’s whist club on a train. Well, them and unscrupulous older men.

  Chapter Two

  The blur of the past two weeks had finally caught up to Gigi as she stood before her half-packed trunk. Lillian and her mother were fussing over how many hats she should take. Unfortunately, hat boxes were large and took up a lot of room.

  Her mother and Lillian resembled each other so much that oftentimes shopkeepers mixed them up. Their willowy figures, ebony hair, and brown eyes had contrasted with Gigi’s father’s stocky build, brown hair, and blue eyes—he was the parent Gigi had taken after. Instead of sporting striking looks like her sister and mother, Gigi had average brown hair that was quite dull in color and blue eyes that seemed to be the color of so many others. Oh, and the stocky build? Gigi was tall and . . . not exactly stocky, but definitely not willowy either.

  This hat box debate had gone on far too long. So long, in fact, that Gigi was actually beginning to look forward to a month sequestered in a small sleeping compartment with her aunt.

  “Two,” Gigi said. “I’ll take two hat boxes. I’ll wear one hat to the train, and then I’ll rotate three hats among the two boxes.”

  Her mother paused. “That might work.”

  “Three hats is not enough,” Lillian stated as if
she were the expert on packing for a train ride. “Aunt Rowena will have at least a dozen.”

  “But I’m not Aunt Rowena.”

  Lillian smiled. “No, you’re not.”

  Gigi wasn’t sure if the smile was a loving sister smile or a smile of irony. Needless to say, as soon as her sister and mother had vacated their helpful packing efforts, Gigi would be adding some of her own items. Her sketchbooks. Her piping, lace bits, and box of buttons. She couldn’t take much extra fabric, but she’d add what she could in the cracks and crevasses between the other essential items being packed.

  “What have you done, Gigi?” her mother practically screeched.

  Gigi’s stomach hollowed before she tracked her mother’s raised finger pointing at the open wardrobe. There hung a silk ball gown that Lillian had worn last year to a few functions. Her mother had insisted that Gigi pack it even though Gigi had insisted right back that trains did not hold balls.

  “I’m not taking a ball gown.” Oh, and the creation was pink. A color to stand out for sure, and one that looked beautiful on Lillian. On Gigi, the pink merely made her look like a pale mannequin with no color to her skin.

  Hester set her hands on her hips. She meant business.

  Gigi sighed. “I doubt any of the other women are bringing ball gowns, Mother,” she ventured. But her voice had lost its strength.

  “Aunt Rowena mentioned specifically for you to bring a formal dress.”

  Gigi knew. She’d read the list Aunt Rowena had sent over. It was extensive, and so far, Gigi had been able to cut about a third of the items. Why hadn’t she shut the wardrobe door before her mother and sister had sailed into her room?

  Maybe . . . just maybe she could claim it ripped or stained if the occasion did arise to wear the fearsome thing. Then again, Gigi was a seamstress, so that excuse wouldn’t quite work.

  And . . . this was the third day of packing. The third day of debating. The third day of her headache. But once Gigi repacked the ball gown, her mother declared a headache of her own and blessedly retreated to her bedroom.