by Jen Turano
Harrison set aside his tea. “But she agreed to dance with you, not Mr. Slater, and if you ask me, that right there is telling.”
The corners of Asher’s lips began to curve. “Did I mention to you that she misunderstood what the Go-As-You-Please Quadrille was all about, so spent almost the entire dance moving in the wrong direction, leaving mayhem in her wake?”
“I like this woman.” Harrison grinned. “And you like her as well, but speaking of that quadrille has recalled me to those articles in the paper yesterday.” He turned rather somber. “I was concerned about Permilia’s distracted air once you and she returned to the hospital to collect me and Gertrude. At first, I thought she was distracted because of the unlikely invitation to tea the two of you enjoyed at the hands of the Huxley sisters, but then . . . when she made such an abrupt departure from the hospital, after having maintained her distracted air for quite some time, I got to wondering.” He blew out a breath. “Do you think that those articles you and Permilia learned about while having tea with the Huxley sisters bothered her more than she was letting on?”
Asher nodded. “I think they may have done just that. Permilia does not seem to be a lady to forget an appointment, but when she looked at her watch while we were waiting for Gertrude, and realized she’d almost missed an engagement she’d promised to attend, the clear worry in her eyes lent credence to the idea that she was certainly in a distracted frame of mind.”
“I wonder if she was able to meet her obligations for that engagement in the end, or if she missed it entirely? She would have clearly needed to change out of the disguise she was wearing, and growing up with three sisters, I’m well aware of how long it can take for a lady to make herself presentable.”
Asher smiled. “I don’t envy you your sisters, Harrison, even though all three of them are charming sorts—mischievous sorts as well, of course, but charming. However, getting back to Permilia, because I was concerned about her behavior, I did take it upon myself to call at the Griswold house after I’d seen you and Gertrude home. Permilia was not there, so I concluded she’d left to attend whatever engagement she’d forgotten about.”
“You don’t know what that engagement was, though?”
“No, she never mentioned where she was expected, and when I was ushered into the Griswold household in order to speak with Permilia’s stepmother, Ida, well, she had not the least idea where her stepdaughter had been heading for the evening.”
“Didn’t that seem a bit curious to you, that Mrs. Griswold would not know the location of her own stepdaughter?”
“It’s not as if Ida Griswold raised Permilia, Harrison. And since Permilia is hardly a green girl out of the schoolroom, I have the impression that she does exactly what she pleases when her presence is not required at a society event.”
“I imagine Mrs. Griswold does not afford her daughter, Miss Lucy Webster, that same freedom,” Harrison said.
“I imagine she doesn’t, especially since Lucy was at home last night and seemed quite eager for me to join them for tea.” Asher smiled. “She spent a good thirty minutes chatting about the ball and how I thought her Little Bo Peep costume had been received, and then”—his smile faded—“she began questioning me about Mr. Eugene Slater, a gentleman I know relatively little about, and one I wasn’t that keen to discuss.”
“Because he’s shown an interest in Permilia.”
Asher pretended he hadn’t heard that remark. “I felt it was not well done of Lucy to inquire about a man who’d shown such interest in her stepsister. It struck me as a fairly unsisterly thing to do.”
“And you didn’t want to discuss Mr. Slater because he did have an interest in Permilia.”
“I have no cause to believe he doesn’t still hold an interest in Permilia.”
Sitting forward, Harrison shook his head. “Because I have three sisters, Asher, and because my family has amassed a rather substantial fortune, I have to broach a subject that’s not exactly pleasant—that subject being the real reason Mr. Slater is showing an interest in both Permilia and her stepsister.”
Asher sat forward as well. “You believe Mr. Slater may be more interested in the Griswold mining ventures than either Permilia or Lucy?”
“I’ve seen it happen in my family—more than once, unfortunately.”
“But Permilia is a delightful lady in her own right, no matter the large fortune behind her name, and . . .” Asher stopped speaking when he noticed the knowing look now residing in Harrison’s eyes. Edging back into his seat, he folded his arms across his chest. “Did I tell you that I’ve secured the services of the Pinkerton Detective Agency?”
“It’s about time, what with someone seemingly being incredibly keen to kill you.”
“Indeed, and I willingly admit I do feel better having them watching my back. I’ve been assured that their best men will be put on my case and that if all goes according to plan, I’ll live a long and prosperous life.”
“Do they have any ideas regarding who might be behind the threats against you?”
“They seem to think it’s one of my competitors, disgruntled over my hiring practices, which is why those competitors are being interviewed as we speak.”
“That’ll be certain to earn you additional friends.”
“Quite, but . . . at the very least, Permilia should receive a touch of satisfaction that I’ve now taken the risk to my life seriously and have acted accordingly.”
“That’s probably the only satisfaction she’ll receive today, given the distress she’s certain to have been experiencing over the damage those newspaper articles have done to her reputation.”
“You don’t truly believe that Permilia has suffered real damage to her reputation because of a few ridiculous articles printed in the papers, do you?”
“Have you bothered to read everything that’s been written about the two of you?”
“I thought it was just one or two articles, and the one Miss Quill wrote wasn’t even damaging.”
“You and Permilia were mentioned in every single paper printed in the city, almost as if the reporters were being paid from more than one source and spread their rather limited articles around, embellishing those articles in the process.”
Harrison leaned forward until he was on the very edge of his seat. “And, while I’m sure that what I’m about to suggest will come as something of a shock, I’m not hesitant to broach the subject since I’m now firmly convinced you hold Permilia in high regard. Because of that, and because of the insinuations that have been leveled against the two of you, I really do believe the only option you have moving forward is to offer her your name.”
Chapter
Sixteen
“Are you quite certain you don’t want to talk about the reasoning behind your abrupt plans to depart for Paris tomorrow morning?”
Turning away from the steamer trunk, where she’d just placed a delicate chemise she’d purchased from an out-of-the-way shop located by Battery Park, Permilia smiled at Gertrude, who was sitting on the floor of Permilia’s room, sorting through stockings.
“While I find it incredibly kind of you to be concerned on my behalf, Gertrude, I think you have quite enough going on at the moment, what with being Mrs. Davenport’s paid companion and all.”
“My days with Mrs. Davenport aren’t always a trial. And when she does happen to step over a few lines here and there, she’s always willing to make it up to me, hence my full day off today with pay and a promise to never turn me orange again.”
Permilia grinned. “I must say it was amusing when we found ourselves arguing with the staff over the idea that Harrison was the one who needed immediate medical attention, not you.”
“As soon as they discovered that lump on the back of his head, they were much keener to believe us, but”—Gertrude grinned—“they certainly didn’t abandon their interest in me, what with all the poking and prodding they subjected me to.” Gertrude’s grin widened. “However, since they did get my skin to lighten up
just a bit with that alcohol solution and assured me that I’ll be completely orange-free in a week or two, I no longer take issue with their fussing. Besides . . . I did get to spend additional time with the charming Mr. Harrison Sinclair. I was just tickled to death when he and Asher insisted on staying with me at the hospital after you left for your appointment. I told both gentlemen I was perfectly capable of hiring a hansom cab to see myself home, but neither of them would hear a single word about that.”
“I do hope you didn’t come to regret encouraging me to take the delivery wagon.”
Gertrude took to looking rather smug. “As I just mentioned, being stuck at the hospital with two delightful gentlemen, especially Mr. Harrison Sinclair, was not exactly a hardship for me—because again . . . he’s delightful. And I certainly wasn’t put out with you that you needed to get on your way. You were obviously distracted, and it wasn’t as if you left me on my deathbed. I was simply an unusual color, not injured.”
“I am sorry for leaving you, even with delightful gentlemen.” Permilia tilted her head. “May I presume that you now hold a bit of affection for Harrison?”
Gertrude waved a still slightly orange hand in the air. “I may find him to be unusually delightful, but I am, at heart, a realist. Gentlemen like Harrison rarely, if ever, become interested in someone like me, which is why I would never allow myself to become romantically interested in someone like him.”
Moving away from the steamer trunk and walking across the room, Permilia took a seat on the floor directly beside Gertrude. “He seemed rather interested in you yesterday.”
“Because I was orange. You have to admit that not many people have an opportunity to encounter an orange woman these days.”
“He called you a pretty little thing.”
“Which was not well-done of him at all. But . . . in his defense, he had suffered a few blows to the head when he uttered that unfortunate phrase.”
“I’ve found that people usually utter the truth when their defenses are down, or . . . in Harrison’s case, battered.”
Setting the stocking she’d been folding aside, Gertrude lifted her head. “An interesting notion, to be sure, but now is hardly the time to discuss such trivial matters. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re being carted off to Paris tomorrow. And forgive me if I’m much mistaken, but I do believe that might have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and not a decision you were responsible for.” She caught Permilia’s eye. “I’ve been considering all sorts of dire scenarios ever since I received your note two hours ago, disclosing your intention to sail on tomorrow’s tide. The only reasonable scenario I’ve come up with is that you’ve brought on the wrath of your stepmother and this is your punishment for incurring that wrath.”
Permilia blew out a breath. “Ida’s embarrassed over the articles that have been published in the newspapers of late. Because of that, she’s decided that in order to avoid the shame I’ve apparently brought on my family by doing . . . well, nothing untoward, we’re going to repair to Paris. We may even take a tour of the continents, depending on how long it takes for the gossip to die down.”
“That sounds as if it will be a grand adventure,” Gertrude said somewhat weakly.
“It won’t be, especially since Lucy is in high dudgeon over the very idea of being whisked out of the country right when she’s in the midst of becoming further acquainted with Mr. Eugene Slater. He’s taken to courting her, and she’s apparently decided she’s head over heels in love with him, even though she barely knows the man.”
Gertrude’s lips thinned. “I thought Mr. Slater was keen on courting you.”
“I’m not put out about his change of courting targets. I’ve now come to the conclusion that he purposefully sought me out at the ball because he was interested in becoming better acquainted with my father and his mining ventures. That meant he was never interested in me, only the advantage an alliance with me would bring to him.”
“Surely you’re wrong about that.”
“I’m afraid I’m probably not. And while I did try to broach this disturbing speculation with Lucy, she flatly refused to listen to me, claiming instead that I was simply jealous of her and her standing within society, and didn’t care to see her happy because of that jealousy.”
“Lucy is such a charming girl.”
Permilia smiled. “Indeed, although in her defense, it really wasn’t her fault that she was remarkably spoiled growing up, what with her father being so much older than Ida and never imagining he’d be blessed to have a child. Then, after Lucy suffered the loss of her indulgent father, Ida tried to overcompensate to make up for that loss, showering dear Lucy with whatever Lucy wanted. It did not do her any favors, nor did it help develop any sense of compassion for anyone other than herself, but . . . perhaps Mr. Slater will be good for her in the end, since he doesn’t strike me as the type of man to be taken advantage of.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I grew up amongst miners, Gertrude. They’re a difficult breed, and it takes a man of strength to manage them. It appears Mr. Slater manages his mines quite well, and that suggests he’s not a man to be trifled with, nor will he be a man moved by pretty tears or prone to give in to the demands Lucy will inevitably start making.”
“Hopefully she’ll figure that out before any vows are spoken.”
“My father, being a man remarkably similar to Mr. Slater, will insist, if nothing else, on a long courtship, although . . . he might surprise me and embrace the idea of Lucy and Mr. Slater wholeheartedly, especially since I’m not getting any younger, and I apparently lost the interest of the only man who’d be capable of taking over my father’s ventures to my stepsister.”
Gertrude tilted her head. “You don’t sound overly upset about that.”
“I’m hardly likely to be upset over losing the affections of a man I barely know.”
“There is that, and there is the idea that your affections may have already been placed squarely on someone else.”
Heat settled in Permilia’s cheeks. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m sure you do, but tell me this, while you said Lucy is disappointed to be whisked away because of Mr. Slater, are you suffering a disappointment as well, since you’re being whisked away from Asher, delaying the proposal I’m certain he’s contemplating making?”
Permilia’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Surely you’ve considered the possibility—what with the ruckus those articles have caused around the city—that Asher would do the proper thing and ask you to marry him.”
“Are you quite certain those treatments they gave you yesterday haven’t done something to your mind?”
“My mind is fine, thank you very much, but I have to wonder about the state of yours. You’ve been out in society for quite a few seasons. You have to be remarkably familiar with how innuendos and sly suggestions are handled—and if you’ve forgotten, they’re handled with a walk down the aisle.”
“Asher and I did nothing untoward at the Vanderbilt ball, which means there was, and is, no reason for me to even contemplate something of that nature.”
“But you were written about at length in the papers.”
“Unfortunately, that is true, and that right there was exactly what was behind my distraction at the hospital, that distraction almost having me miss a most important appointment last night. However, I willingly admit that I was more distracted by the idea that someone had the audacity to print an exaggeration of the true circumstances that occurred between Asher and me at the ball over any harm my reputation might have suffered. Although . . .” She caught Gertrude’s eye. “Good heavens, I do hope this hasn’t harmed Asher’s reputation. He clearly prizes his standing within society and needs that standing in order to increase sales at his store.”
“I thought you believed Asher makes more than his fair share of profits at his store, since you’ve claimed more than a few times that he overcharges for his merchandis
e.”
“And he does, but I’ve since come to understand that the reasoning behind his high prices has more to do with his paying his employees a higher wage than any greed on Asher’s part. And, because he’s been able to secure the employment of the best salesladies and sales gentlemen in the city, his customers receive uncommonly fine service, that service paid for by the cost of his goods.”
“It sounds to me as if you’ve had a distinct change of attitude toward Mr. Asher Rutherford, which means . . .” Gertrude nodded rather knowingly. “You wouldn’t be opposed if he did ask you for your hand, would you?”
The very idea of Asher Rutherford asking for her hand had Permilia’s stomach churning ever so slightly, but not in a queasy way, more in an . . . anticipatory fashion, which . . . She pushed herself up from the floor and moved back to her steamer trunk, busying herself with packing the essential clothing she would need in Paris, more as a way to avoid Gertrude’s sharp eyes than any great desire to pack for a trip she had no wish to make.
“You’re well suited for him,” Gertrude said, her words having Permilia turning around to face her again.
“I’m afraid I can’t agree with that, Gertrude. Asher grew up in the very midst of society, learning and apparently enjoying all the rules that go along with belonging to that society. I grew up in the midst of nowhere, attending not the finest schools but learning through tutors my father hired who weren’t exactly proficient in teaching me the expected feminine graces.”
“Which was a blessing for you, as I’m sure you’re very well aware.”
“My unusual education, while providing me with knowledge that’s normally reserved for men, did not prepare me for the world I’m now forced to live in, making me an outsider instead.”
“Being a member of the fashionable set, Permilia, is highly overrated. I, for one, am thankful you’ve never fit in—otherwise you and I would have never been given the opportunity to become friends.”