Out of the Ordinary

by Jen Turano

  The first time he’d met her, she’d been dyed an interesting shade of orange, a circumstance he’d found rather puzzling, especially since he’d been suffering from a blow to the head and had, at first, thought he’d been hallucinating.

  Once he’d regained his sensibilities, he’d discovered he’d not been hallucinating at all, but had truly encountered a lady who resembled a sunset. The reasoning behind Gertrude’s unexpected color had been surprising to say the least, especially when he learned she’d willingly allowed Mrs. Davenport to coat her with an unknown concoction that was supposed to give her a weathered appearance to coincide with her milk wagon–driver disguise. To say the disguise did not turn out as planned was an understatement, but fortunately Gertrude’s color faded back to normal after a few weeks. While she’d been orange, however, she’d kept a wonderful sense of humor about her condition.

  The very idea she’d not been bothered about being orange spoke volumes about her true character. And when Harrison had learned that she often allowed Mrs. Davenport to practice what that lady referred to as her artistic muse, that practicing having Gertrude traveling around society looking rather curious more often than not, Harrison had come to believe that Gertrude possessed a tremendously kind heart along with a most generous nature.

  That he’d also concluded Gertrude’s employer, Mrs. Davenport, was not your typical society matron, there was no question, which made the very idea that she was currently standing in front of him, on a deck where guests were not assembled, a cause for concern.

  “Mrs. Davenport,” he finally said, reaching out a hand to steady the woman when he realized she was wobbling on her feet. “Are you all right?”

  Taking a second to shake out the folds of her skirts, the shaking causing something to jingle on her person, Mrs. Davenport flashed him a pleasant smile and nodded a head that possessed unusually dyed black hair styled in a manner that one would expect on a lady half her age. Ringlets bobbed with the nodding she was doing, and the tiny jewels that were woven into the dark strands winked here and there in the faint light coming from the lamps spread through the companionway.

  When she finished nodding, she began regarding him out of eyes that were framed by lashes that had certainly been darkened by some substance, and eyes that were currently widened in what almost seemed to be a far too innocent way.

  “I’m very well, thank you for asking, Mr. Sinclair, but what of you? You seem to be on some type of urgent mission. Dare I ask if something has gone horribly, horribly wrong with your charming boat and we’re about to find ourselves swimming with the fishes?”

  Having never once heard anyone describe his three-hundred-foot yacht as a “charming boat,” especially since it was considered one of the most lavishly equipped yachts to have ever been built, Harrison felt his lips quirk into a grin as he took a hand he’d just then noticed Mrs. Davenport was holding out to him.

  Raising that hand to his lips, he placed the expected kiss on it.

  “You may rest easy, Mrs. Davenport. This charming vessel is in fine working order. I was just down in the engine room and all the machinery is performing exactly as it is intended.”

  Withdrawing her hand, one that Harrison just then realized was missing its glove, although her left hand was still covered in white silk, Mrs. Davenport tilted her head. “Is it common for the owner of a yacht to inspect the engine room while a celebratory event is occurring, Mr. Sinclair? I would have thought that would be a job for the captain, or a member of the crew.”

  Having the uncanny feeling that Mrs. Davenport was attempting to ferret information out of him, Harrison settled for a smile and a shrug. “Since it is my yacht, I’m often found in many of its nooks and crannies for one reason or another, but enough about that. Why aren’t you enjoying the celebratory atmosphere of the upper deck? There’s not much to entertain a person on this level.”

  Mrs. Davenport batted dark lashes Harrison’s way. “I’ve come to find Gertrude, of course. I believe she came down here to, ah, find a spot of quiet in the . . . um . . . library.” She suddenly began regarding him in a very considering fashion. “But, speaking of Gertrude, I was hoping you and I would have a moment to speak privately this evening, because, well, we have matters to discuss regarding my companion.”

  An odd tingling began forming at the very base of Harrison’s neck, a tingling he normally felt when the skies were as clear as could be but he knew a storm was brewing just past the horizon. Rubbing a hand over the tingling, he frowned. “We do?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And what about Gertrude?” he pressed when Mrs. Davenport took that moment to become distracted with the folds of her skirts, twitching them to the right, which caused an unexpected tinkling sound from beneath her skirts. Her twitching came to an immediate end as she began taking an absorbed interest in the floor.

  “Is there something I can assist you with, Mrs. Davenport?” he finally asked to break the curious silence that was now settled between them.

  “What a darling gentleman you are to inquire, but no, I’m fine,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand as she lifted her head. “Now, where were we before I got distracted? Ah, yes, my companion.” She leveled a stern eye on him. “I’m not sure if it was a slip on your part, but you just called Gertrude by her given name. I was unaware the two of you had become so overly familiar with each other.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say we’ve become overly familiar with each other. We’re friends, of course, and it has been my experience that friends frequently abandon formality to embrace a more, well, familiar attitude.”

  “Oh dear . . . that simply will not do at all.”

  The tingling on the back of his neck intensified. “Forgive me, Mrs. Davenport, but I truly do not understand why you seem so put out with my claiming a friendship with Gertrude.”

  Mrs. Davenport nodded. “I’m not surprised you’re confused. You are a man after all, and men do tend to have difficulties grasping the subtle nuances of a situation.”

  “There’s a situation?”

  “Too right there is.” Mrs. Davenport leaned toward him. “Gertrude has become rather dear to me, Mr. Sinclair. In fact, she’s the best companion I’ve ever employed, and as such, I feel it is my responsibility to look after her best interests, and you, my good man, are a distinct threat to her.”

  Harrison blinked. “I’m a threat to Gertrude?”

  “Certainly, especially since you’ve been in her company often of late, and I do fear that during that time you may have very well given Gertrude the wrong impression.”

  “I’m definitely not grasping whatever subtle nuances you may be trying to get me to grasp.”

  Mrs. Davenport released a bit of a sigh. “You are a handsome gentleman, Mr. Sinclair, possessed of a substantial fortune and adventurous attitude. You would turn even the most seasoned of heads, but paying attention to a young lady of Gertrude’s limited experience is not well-done of you. To be perfectly blunt, I’m afraid your association with her, one you just claimed was a mere friendship, may very well be setting her up with false expectations, which you and I both know will never come to fruition.”

  Harrison stiffened. “I assure you, Mrs. Davenport, I have done no such dastardly deed. I have the utmost respect for Gertrude and would never do anything to harm her. I certainly haven’t behaved in an untoward manner with her, nor have I ever gotten the impression she viewed me as anything other than a friend.”

  “Far be it from me to point out the obvious, but it’s a well-known fact that you’re somewhat oblivious when it comes to the ladies and how much attention they try to send your way.”

  Opening his mouth to refute that statement, Harrison was denied a response when Mrs. Davenport lifted her chin and continued speaking before he could get a single word out of his mouth.

  “Gertrude is not the type of young lady who draws much attention from gentlemen, Mr. Sinclair. Because of that, and because you’re a dashing gentleman, o
ne who draws attention wherever you go, no matter that you neglect to realize that, she’s susceptible to your charm. That right there is why I’d like your word right here and now that you will begin distancing yourself from my companion so that her tender feelings will not be trampled to pieces in the end.”

  Harrison frowned. “I would imagine Gertrude draws more than her fair share of attention from gentlemen. She’s a delightful young lady, possessed of her own adventurous attitude. Perhaps you simply have not taken note of that attention because it’s a circumstance you would rather not acknowledge.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m not an observant sort?”

  Refusing a wince because he was usually far more careful in how he spoke to members of the feminine set, especially since he’d grown up with three sisters, Harrison summoned up a smile. “Forgive me, Mrs. Davenport. I did not mean to offend. What I’m sure I meant to say was because you’re so very fond of Gertrude, and just recently claimed she’s the best companion you’ve ever had, you may avoid thinking about the gentlemen who pay attention to her since you don’t want to lose her companionship to one of those . . .”

  Harrison stopped talking when Mrs. Davenport began looking more offended than ever.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you may be implying,” she said with a sniff.

  Inclining his head, he blew out a breath. “Apparently, I have no idea what I might have been implying either, so perhaps it might be for the best if we simply change the subject before we find ourselves at odds with each other.”

  Mrs. Davenport inclined her head as well. “A prudent choice, my boy.” She held out her arm. “You may take my arm.”

  The corners of Harrison’s lips began to twitch as he offered her his arm. Turning her in the direction of the library, they began to move down the companionway, making it all of three feet before Mrs. Davenport stopped in her tracks. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widened, and then a thud sounded from somewhere beneath her skirts.

  With no more than a blink of an eye, she released his arm, nodded toward the library, and then shooed him on his way.

  “I’ll join you in a moment” was all she said as she made a shooing motion again and then sent a pointed look toward the library.

  Unused to being shooed, or faced with a society matron who seemed to be behaving in a slightly suspicious manner, Harrison didn’t take so much as a single step away from her. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like me to assist you with whatever trouble you’re currently experiencing—trouble that apparently has landed by your feet?”

  “You’re far more perceptive than I’ve given you credit for,” he thought he heard her mumble before she squared her shoulders and wagged a finger at him. “My dear boy, while I’ve always been a lady who appreciates chivalry in a gentleman, I’m afraid now is not the moment for me to accept your chivalrous offer. If you must know, I was trying to spare you from a slightly embarrassing problem I’m experiencing, but since you seem to be an inquisitive sort, allow me to simply say that the tapes holding my bustle in place seem to be coming undone, unless it’s the garters that are holding up my stockings. Whichever catastrophe I’m experiencing does seem to suggest I’m falling apart where I stand, which means I need a spot of privacy to set my person to rights if you please.”

  Even though the back of his neck was once again tingling merrily away, Harrison knew there was nothing to do but allow Mrs. Davenport her privacy, especially since her garters had been brought into the conversation. He was of the sneaking suspicion she’d brought up her garters to distract him, and while she’d certainly done exactly that, he was quite willing to do as she asked and continue to the library without her if only to discourage further talk of unmentionables.

  “I’ll just nip on into the library and see if Gertrude’s there,” he said, earning a smile of approval from Mrs. Davenport. Striding down the companionway at a pace that was almost a run because he hadn’t missed noticing Mrs. Davenport was already twitching her skirts about, he hesitated right outside the library door, leaning closer to that door when another thud reached his ears, this one coming from inside the library.

  When the thud was immediately accompanied by what sounded like a yelp, Harrison pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He froze on the spot, though, when his gaze went directly to Gertrude, who was standing in the library, rubbing a backside that seemed to be devoid of the expected clothing.

  Chapter

  Four

  For what felt like an eternity, Harrison was incapable of getting his feet into motion. For the life of him, he could not comprehend what was unfolding in front of his eyes, but felt as if he’d entered some peculiar world—one where ladies talking about their unmentionables, or frolicking about in those unmentionables around his library, appeared to be the order of the day.

  Clearly, something of a peculiar nature had caused Gertrude to abandon the frock he knew she’d been wearing the last time he’d seen her, but what that event was, he truly had no idea. He also had no idea why Gertrude, along with Permilia Griswold, was now laughing uproariously, both ladies clutching their sides as their peals of amusement bounced around the room, until . . .

  “Good heavens, it’s Harrison!” Gertrude practically roared right before she jumped over the fainting couch, while Permilia scrambled to stand in front of that very couch, spreading her arms wide in an obvious effort to hide a barely covered Gertrude from his view.

  “I do beg your pardon” was the only thing he could muster up as he spun around and headed for the door, his exit blocked by none other than Mrs. Davenport.

  She’d apparently gotten herself put back together, but the smile on her face was soon replaced with a frown as she tried to peer over his shoulder.

  “What is all the ruckus about?” she demanded.

  “Ah . . . well . . . as to that,” he began, relieved when Permilia apparently took pity on his less than stellar attempt to explain the situation and spoke up.

  “Gertrude had a mishap with her bustle, Mrs. Davenport, but not to worry. We’ve successfully gotten her parted from that bustle and from the couch, although we had to part her from her clothing to achieve that success. Besides suffering a few scrapes from a bustle that appears to be crafted from an honest-to-goodness birdcage, she’s in fine form—if you discount that she’s not exactly dressed for company since her gown, along with the bustle, are still stubbornly attached to the fainting couch.”

  Mrs. Davenport took a single step backward and pinned Harrison under a stern eye, as if he’d somehow contributed to the mayhem in his library. “Do not tell me you got a peek at Gertrude while she’s in a state of, shall we say, dishabille?”

  “I always thought the term dishabille was reserved for describing a lady when she was at her leisure,” Harrison said, those words sounding somewhat ridiculous even to his own ears. “If you ask me, Gertrude is anything but at her leisure,” he continued even as Mrs. Davenport began to watch him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Not wanting to prove her right, he pressed his lips together and vowed to not say another word unless he was certain that word could not be considered ridiculous.

  “Dishabille means scantily dressed,” Mrs. Davenport finally said, reaching out to pat him on the arm in what could almost be called a motherly fashion. “And while I’m sure you were taken by surprise when you walked in on Gertrude, I’m afraid the rules are clear about what must happen next.” She paused and eyed him expectantly.

  “Ah . . . what must happen next?” he forced himself to ask.

  Mrs. Davenport took a second to tuck a strand of black hair that was escaping its pins behind her ear before she patted his arm again. “You’ll have to marry her.”

  Harrison’s mouth went a little slack. “Marry . . . her?”

  “Quite right. And by my encouraging you to marry Gertrude, I hope this puts to bed the idea I’ve somehow dissuaded other gentlemen from pursuing her to keep her as my companion.”

  Harrison shook his head ever
so slightly. “I don’t recall suggesting that you purposefully dissuaded anyone.”

  “I distinctly recall you did,” she countered.

  Feeling quite as if he’d lost all control of a conversation he was having difficulty following, Harrison opened his mouth, relief flowing through him when Gertrude took that moment to clear her throat—loudly.

  “I’m certain you’re merely suffering a misunderstanding with Harrison, Mrs. Davenport, because he’s not a gentleman prone to suggesting opinions that would distress a lady.” She cleared her throat again. “As for the matter regarding him having to marry me, I’ll not hear another word on that. Harrison is not to blame for stumbling on me dressed in such an unforeseen manner, because one hardly expects to find a woman parted from her gown during an engagement celebration due to a mishap with a bustle.”

  “I thought that part about the bustle was simply a jest,” Mrs. Davenport said before she brushed past Harrison and marched her way across the library.

  The next sound to reach him was a bit of rustling before Mrs. Davenport gasped. “On my word, it would seem as if this bustle was not as sturdy as I believed. I’ll make a note to myself at a later date to reinforce the cage with stronger metal on my next attempt to avoid such a disaster in the future.”

  “You’ll make a note to never try your hand at one of those monstrosities again,” Gertrude countered. “But since we’re on the subject of that bustle, I need to point out that I’m afraid the upholstery is ruined on the couch. Do know, Harrison, that I will send you the funds to cover the cost to replace it tomorrow, and do accept my most fervent apologies for damaging your delightful piece of furniture in the first place.”

  Resisting the urge to turn to her, Harrison kept his attention focused on a bug that was crawling slowly up the wall of the companionway. “You’ll do no such thing, Gertrude. In all honesty, I’ve never liked that fainting couch, finding its putrid yellow color far too dull for my tastes.”