Jen Turano - [Ladies of Distinction 02]

by A Most Peculiar Circumstance

  “Yes, well, no need to go into that at the moment. You have more than enough troubles to occupy your thoughts.” Zayne flicked the reins and set the buggy back on the road, silence settling over them as they traversed the busy street. They turned on Park Avenue, and Theodore realized that although they only had a few blocks to go to reach his home, they were almost to his parents’ house. The warm reunion he’d witnessed between Arabella and her family sprang to mind and he felt a trickle of remorse run over him. He’d mentioned to his mother over a month ago that he was traveling out of town, but the thought never entered his head to send her a telegram explaining he’d been delayed.

  “Would it be too much of a bother to ask you to set me down at my parents’ house?” he asked.

  “Not at all, and you must extend your mother an invitation to dinner this evening from me if she and your father don’t already have plans.”

  Theodore barely suppressed a shudder. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Mother’s been extremely vocal of late regarding the fact that I’m getting ever closer to thirty and haven’t settled on a wife. If I need remind you, there will be at least three eligible ladies at your parents’ house tonight.”

  “Theodore, I know your mother, and I hardly believe she would find Arabella or Agatha suitable for you.”

  “True, but Miss Murdock will also be in attendance, and she’s completely respectable.”

  “You don’t like Felicia?” Zayne asked as he pulled the buggy to a halt in front of the Park Avenue mansion Theodore had grown up in.

  “Felicia’s a lovely lady, but I seem to make her incredibly nervous.”

  “You’re probably right,” Zayne said. “Felicia is a very retiring sort, and you’re . . . not.”

  “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  Zayne laughed. “You need someone with spirit, someone who will stand up to you and not allow you to run roughshod over them.”

  “I don’t run roughshod over ladies.”

  “You do, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

  Theodore jumped from the buggy, fetched his bags, and turned back to Zayne. “You weren’t bringing up that lady-with-spirit business because you’re subtly trying to push your sister at me, were you?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I’d never encourage you to pursue Arabella. The two of you are not well suited in the least. You’d kill each other within a month if you spent much time together.”

  “All right then, as long as we’re in agreement,” Theodore said as Zayne sent him a little salute, flicked the reins, and took off down the street.

  It was good to have friends who understood him more than he realized.

  Theodore strode up the sidewalk, pausing to set his bags down before knocking on the door. It was opened immediately by Mr. Stewart, the Wilders’ butler. The man’s weathered face split into a smile as he ushered Theodore into the house before grabbing the bags from the porch.

  “I am certainly glad to see you, Mr. Wilder,” Mr. Stewart said, closing the door behind them. He lowered his voice. “Your mother was just speaking about you this morning, and I’m hopeful your arrival will improve her spirits.”

  “She’s in ill spirits?”

  “She is, as is your sister, who is also here. If I may be so bold, sir, she’s in an even worse frame of mind than your mother.”

  “Maybe we should just pretend I never stopped by to visit.”

  “There’s no cause to be a coward,” Mr. Stewart said as he pointed him down the hall. “They’re in the blue room. I’ll send fresh tea.”

  “Is my father at home?”

  “He sent a note an hour ago stating he’d be late. I understand your sister’s husband, Mr. Gibson, is with your father, and I fear that is the reason for the dismal mood which has settled over the house.”

  Something that felt very much like worry hit him out of the blue, which was peculiar. He’d never worried about his mother and sister before, believing they’d been successful in achieving what every woman longed to achieve: securing husbands who provided a more-than-substantial living.

  “You said they’re in the blue room?” he asked.

  “They are, and I will meet you there shortly with your tea.” Mr. Stewart bowed and made his exit, leaving Theodore to make his way to the blue room. He hesitated outside the open door as his gaze traveled across the room. His mother was sitting on a beautiful brocade chair, her needlepoint lying in her lap, while his sister sat on the edge of a chaise covered in green silk, staring morosely into the fire. He forced his feet into motion.

  “This looks like a cheery atmosphere,” he said, making his way to his mother’s side.

  Louise Wilder looked up. “Theodore, this is a surprise.”

  Theodore leaned over, kissed his mother’s cheek, and then straightened, wincing when she blinked somewhat owlishly back at him. When was the last time he’d felt compelled to kiss his own mother? He turned to his sister. “Hello, Kate.”

  Katherine Gibson sent him a glare. “You know I don’t care to be called Kate.”

  “I suppose I could call you Mrs. Gibson, but that seems overly formal.”

  “Would you care for tea?” Louise asked when Katherine began to sputter. “I’m afraid it might be tepid by this time.”

  “Mr. Stewart is fetching a fresh pot,” Theodore returned.

  “He always did cater to you,” Katherine muttered.

  Theodore sat down beside his sister, taking hold of her hand and refusing to let go when she tried to pull it out of his grasp. “Are you put out with me for some reason?”

  Katherine tugged harder. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Your sister is never put out with you, darling,” Louise said. “The two of you have always gotten along quite well.”

  Did he get along with Katherine? The truth of the matter was he barely knew her anymore. She was always at family functions, but they never talked, not about anything important, and yet . . . he distinctly remembered, during one of his slightly combative conversations with Arabella, making the claim his sister was happy.

  If this was what happy looked like, he hated to think how she would appear if she was miserable.

  “How’s Harold?” he asked.

  “Harold?” Katherine repeated.

  “Your husband?”

  Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know how Harold is?”

  Theodore narrowed his eyes right back at her. “Shouldn’t I want to know how my brother-in-law is?”

  A rather bland expression suddenly drifted over her face. “Oh, you’re trying to make polite conversation.”

  “No,” Theodore corrected, “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with your husband.”

  “My goodness, Theodore, there is nothing wrong with Harold,” Louise said. “He and your father are currently out having a late lunch, and then they’ll be attending a charity event.”

  “Father and Harold are going to a charity event?”

  “That is what his note stated,” Louise said, her voice dropping off when Mr. Stewart, followed by a maid, entered the room. Theodore watched as the maid put the tea on the table, curtsied, and left.

  “Will you be staying long, Mr. Wilder?” Mr. Stewart asked.

  “I’m afraid not, Mr. Stewart. I’ve been away for a month and I do need to check on my house. Make sure it’s still standing and all that.”

  “Very good, sir,” Mr. Stewart said with a bow. “Will you need transportation home?”

  “Why would he need transportation?” Katherine asked. “Didn’t he get here on a horse?”

  “Zayne Beckett dropped me off.”

  For some reason, Mr. Stewart turned sharply on his heel and, although a gentleman of a rather advanced age, practically sprinted from the room.

  He arched a brow at his sister. “What was that all about?”

  Katherine’s face turned a delightful shade of pink. “I’m sure I have no idea.”

  “Your sister used to have a rather small
infatuation with Mr. Beckett, and I’m afraid she used to coerce Mr. Stewart into accompanying her as she forced our driver to take the carriage again, and again, and again, past Zayne’s residence,” Louise said.

  Theodore felt his mouth drop open. “You never told me you liked Zayne.”

  Katherine’s pink face turned to red. “I didn’t want you to mock me, and besides, it was a worthless infatuation. Zayne’s been more than open about his association with Helena, and everyone has always known they’d eventually get married.”

  “Which I have always felt is a true shame,” Louise said as she rose to her feet and began pouring out the tea. “Zayne Beckett is far too nice of a gentleman to be burdened with Helena forever, but to each his own.”

  Theodore stood up, walked to his mother’s side, and accepted the two cups she handed him. He handed a cup of tea to Katherine, and then settled back down next to her on the chaise with his own cup. He took a sip, swallowed, and shook his head.

  “I wonder if he ever knew.”

  “If you say anything to him . . .” Katherine said before she gulped down some tea and promptly choked on it.

  Theodore set his cup aside and pounded her soundly on the back. “Are you all right?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Louise said, “especially if you stop teasing her. Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” She edged down on her chair. “Perhaps it would be wise to change the subject. Tell me, dear, how was your business trip?”

  “It wasn’t exactly business, Mother, and I’ll explain further in just a bit, but first tell me about this charity event Father and Harold are attending. Why aren’t the two of you with them?”

  Louise smiled a smile that was less than amused. “Apparently this event is being held in a church in a rather rough section of town, thus the reason Katherine and I have been excluded.”

  “Since when has Father shown an interest in church charities?” Theodore asked.

  “Are you questioning your father’s faith?”

  “I wasn’t aware Father had a faith to question.”

  “As if you do,” Katherine muttered under her breath.

  He couldn’t ever remember a time his family had discussed faith, and after being with Arabella, a lady who brought God into conversations as easily as she breathed, it now struck him as somewhat sad.

  “I believe in God,” he began slowly, “not that I enjoy a close relationship with Him as I know others do, but I know He guides my life, even if I believe His guidance is slightly distant. I cannot claim I’m an overly devout gentleman, but I try to live my life according to God’s rules. I’m hopeful that someday I’ll be able to say my spiritual journey has experienced growth.”

  Katherine looked at him for a long minute and then began to fidget.

  He’d made her uncomfortable, probably because he wasn’t comfortable discussing God, and he certainly couldn’t compare to Arabella’s comfort with the subject.

  How would it feel to have such an abiding faith?

  Before he could think of anything to say to ease the tension that had settled over the room, his mother set her teacup on the table with an uncharacteristic thud and smiled brightly in his direction.

  “Getting back to why your sister and I are not in the most pleasant frames of mind,” Louise said. “We had made plans to go to dinner with your father and Harold, but they canceled our plans without even allowing us the courtesy of a chance to respond.”

  Even though his mother was smiling, there was fury pouring out of her eyes. He’d never once seen his mother display anything other than slight disapproval.

  “You could always join me for dinner,” Theodore heard come out of his mouth, even as his heart began to ache when his mother and sister sent him looks of obvious astonishment.

  “I fear I must have misheard, Katherine, but I swear Theodore just invited us out to dinner with him,” Louise said slowly.

  Theodore summoned up a smile. “I’ve been invited to dine at Douglas and Gloria Beckett’s house, and Zayne made a point of telling me to extend you an invitation. The dinner begins at six.”

  Louise frowned. “You’ve never asked us to accompany you to dinner.”

  “Then I’ve been very remiss in my duties as a son.”

  Louise stood up and moved to stand in front of Theodore, leaning over to touch his forehead. “Are you feeling well, dear?”

  Another pang settled in his heart. “I’m fine.”

  “He looks fine to me,” Katherine said, “although he is acting unusual.”

  “He must be tired from his trip. That would explain his odd mood,” Louise said, surprising Theodore when she scooted next to him on the chaise. “What were you doing while you were out of town?”

  “I was fetching Miss Arabella Beckett home.”

  “Why?”

  “My objective was to get her back in time for Hamilton Beckett’s wedding, but unfortunately, Miss Beckett was rather difficult to find.”

  “She was lost?” Katherine asked.

  “Misplaced is a better word.”

  “How does one get misplaced?” Louise asked.

  “If you knew Miss Beckett, you’d understand.”

  Louise bit her lip. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know if we should come with you tonight. Your father does not approve of progressive women, and Miss Beckett is one of the most progressive women in the country.”

  “Harold would definitely not approve of me associating with such an independent, and need I say, vocal lady,” Katherine said.

  Alarm shot over Theodore when his mother and Katherine exchanged some type of odd look that he didn’t comprehend before both ladies jumped to their feet and headed for the door.

  His mother suddenly paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “You may return for us at exactly thirty minutes before six and not a moment sooner. Katherine and I need to make ourselves presentable for the dinner party.” With that, she hitched up her skirt and raced out of the room behind Katherine.

  He simply sat there for a moment, at a complete loss as to what had just occurred, until the thought came to him that he’d somehow managed, unintentionally of course, to open up a rather large can of worms.

  He had a sneaking suspicion his father and brother-in-law were not going to be amused.

  7

  I do so hate to say this, Mother, but it seems that while I’ve been away, your abilities with the reins have taken a turn for the worse,” Arabella said as she leapt off the phaeton before the groom could assist her, resisted the urge to kiss the ground, and then looked up to discover her mother scowling down at her.

  “My driving is perfectly acceptable,” Gloria said before she accepted the hand of another groom and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of their Fifth Avenue mansion. “It was hardly my fault that gentleman dashed in front of me and almost caused me to run him over. Why, if I wasn’t so proficient with the reins, he would have suffered a horrible fate.”

  “The only reason we were able to miss him was because another gentleman, one, I might add, who seemed quite elderly, hobbled to his aid and pushed him out of the way.”

  Gloria ignored that statement as she looked past Arabella and grinned. “Oh, lovely, my dear friend has come to call.”

  Arabella turned. A lady about her mother’s age was striding their way, with a beautiful younger lady by her side. The younger lady was gowned in the first state of fashion and had an air about her that sizzled with barely suppressed energy.

  “Cora, what a delightful surprise,” Gloria said as she gave the woman a hug, then did the same to the younger lady. “Agatha, you’re looking as lovely as ever. Come, I’ve been dying to introduce you to my daughter.” She pulled the two ladies over to Arabella. “Arabella, this is my very good friend, Cora Watson, and her daughter, Agatha.”

  Cora beamed at Arabella. “We’re not here for long, since everyone does need to get ready for the dinner party, but I just had to make certain you returned home safely.”


  “That was very kind of you, Mrs. Watson,” Arabella said.

  Mrs. Watson’s eyes twinkled as she lowered her voice. “If you must know, I had planned on going with your mother to greet you at the station, but then . . .” She gestured with her head toward the phaeton and shuddered.

  Arabella swallowed a laugh. “I do believe that might have been the reasoning behind my own father not making the journey to welcome me home.”

  “I am standing right here,” Gloria muttered before she turned to Agatha. “Tell me, dear, is that why you accompanied your mother? Were you afraid I’d done Arabella in with my driving?”

  “Not at all,” Agatha said. “I simply came to make certain Arabella had not suffered overly much from her forced time in Theodore’s company.”

  She and Agatha Watson were destined to become great friends.

  “Theodore is a charming gentleman, Agatha,” Cora said, “and eligible.”

  “Theodore is only charming with ladies who do not challenge him, Mother, and you of all people should know Theodore is the last man I’d ever consider as a future mate.” Agatha reached out, grabbed hold of Arabella’s hand, and gave it a good pat. “I said from the very beginning that it was madness to send Theodore after you. You’re known for your independent ways, and putting you and Theodore in direct contact with each other was a certain recipe for disaster.”

  “He can be difficult at times,” Arabella agreed with a smile, “and I did, upon occasion, long to throttle the gentleman.” Her smile widened. “I must say I’m delighted to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Watson. Theodore mentioned you frequently, and any lady who has the ability to confound that gentleman with her progressive ways is a lady after my own heart.”

  Agatha’s smile dimmed. “Miss Beckett, we’ve met before at a rally.”

  “Have we really?”

  Agatha heaved a dramatic sigh. “Why is it that no one in your family ever remembers me? Zayne thought I was fresh out of the schoolroom when we ran into each other a few months back, and then I encountered your mother in Central Park and she didn’t recall meeting me, and now . . . you.”