by Jen Turano
Chapter
Seventeen
Harrison gave the new shipping proposal he was working on one last glance, then pushed it aside, leaning back in his office chair and raising his arms above his head to help relieve the knot that was developing in his back.
Contract proposals were not his favorite way to spend an afternoon, but since Adelaide, who adored working on contracts and had an unusual affinity for figures, was preparing to depart from New York with Margaret to deliver a new ship down the coast to a client, it was up to him to complete the proposal.
Yawning, he glanced out the window, took a moment to enjoy the sight of a beautiful sunny day, and wondered if Gertrude might be available to take a sail around the coast with him later that evening.
Even though she’d been adamant about the idea that being seen with him would cause the gossips to come out in droves, he’d missed her while he’d been away delivering an engine part his father needed, and . . .
“Harrison, thank goodness you’ve returned. I was worried you’d decided to take a small holiday after parting ways with your father, but here you are, back at the office, and as I already mentioned, thank goodness for that.”
Setting aside his thoughts of Gertrude, along with the notion that he’d missed her, which was rather curious because he’d never missed a lady unrelated to him before, Harrison rose to his feet as his mother, Cornelia Sinclair, swept into his office. She was looking lovely in a sensible walking dress of what he thought might be yellow, although why she’d chosen to wear a red hat that was at distinct odds with the yellow, he couldn’t say.
He walked around his desk, met his mother in the middle of the office, then bent down and kissed her cheek.
“You’re looking very well today, Mother. That’s a delightful yellow gown.”
Cornelia patted his cheek. “It’s green, dear, to match my hat, which is a shade darker, but green all the same.”
Harrison tilted his head and considered the hat in question. “Is it really?”
“Indeed, however . . .” Cornelia took a step away from him, looking him up and down. “That’s an interesting ensemble you have on today, darling. Overly bright some might say, and I’m not sure the pink jacket should be worn with . . .” She bent over and began examining the print of his trousers. “What an interesting choice some tailor made to create trousers out of periwinkle blue, and are these small designs supposed to be clovers scattered about the fabric?”
“I thought my jacket was orange,” Harrison began, “and no, I don’t have clovers on my pants.”
“I’m afraid you do, and I’m afraid I should mention that your jacket wouldn’t be any less bright if it was actually orange.” Cornelia straightened and shook her head. “I keep hoping Asher’s formidable fashion sense will eventually rub off on you. But since that hope is beginning to dim, you might want to consider reaching out to your friend and accepting his assistance. A well-dressed gentleman is far more appealing to ladies than an unusually dressed one, and you must remember that I would enjoy being presented with a few grandchildren before I’m at my last prayers.”
“You’re nowhere near to being at your last prayers, Mother. And to address your suggestion about seeking fashion advice from Asher, according to reliable sources, society ladies have recently gotten me into their matrimonial sights, unusual fashion sense or not. They, apparently, don’t seem to be bothered by pink jackets paired with . . . er . . . flowered trousers, so there’s no need for me to bother Asher.”
In a blink of an eye, Cornelia turned from an indulgent mother to a highly indignant one. “Society ladies are casting their attention your way?”
Harrison refused a wince. “That does seem to be the talk around the city.”
“There’s talk of you around the city, and not simply business talk?”
“How was your trip to see your sister?” Harrison asked as he took his mother’s arm and ushered her as quickly as possible across the room to where two battered chairs flanked an old wooden table. Waiting until she took a seat, not that he was allowing her much choice in the matter since he’d delivered her directly in front of the chair and helped her into it, Harrison strode over to the pot of coffee he always kept in his office and poured his mother a cup. Walking back to her, he handed over the cup and smiled expectantly.
Taking a sip, and then proving she was the best kind of mother because Harrison knew the coffee was lukewarm at best and yet she took another sip before setting the cup on the table, Cornelia raised her head.
“I won’t be distracted by your charming manners.”
“Forgive me, Mother, but I don’t believe you’re capable of becoming distracted when you’ve got something on your mind,” he said, lowing himself into the other battered chair.
“But that doesn’t stop you from trying,” Cornelia pointed out. “However, since you are a charming scamp, and I have missed you while I’ve been away, allow me to simply say that my visit with my sister was aggravating to say the least. That is why I’ve returned to the city sooner than expected.”
“Is Aunt Beatrice still of the belief you should abandon your interest in the family business and spend your days attending one social event after another?”
“Of course, but that’s not the reason I found her so taxing this visit. It was her many and vocal opinions regarding my darling girls that set my teeth on edge. She’s convinced all three of them are going to become confirmed spinsters, and she’s laying the blame for that squarely on my shoulders.”
“In all likelihood, she was just making polite conversation,” Harrison said. “You know you and your sister don’t share many interests. I imagine she believes you enjoy speaking about your daughters, which is why she must bring them into your conversations so often.”
“She believes I’m a horrible mother and have ruined all chances my daughters have of making formidable matches by not presenting them to society.” Cornelia shuddered. “One would think that after what happened to Margaret and her experience with two fortune-hunters, my sister would be more sympathetic to my desire to keep my girls firmly out of that cesspool known as the socially elite.”
“Not all society gentlemen are fortune-hunters, nor are all the ladies only interested in landing a gentleman of wealth.”
Cornelia quirked a brow. “This from a man who just admitted he’s become interesting to eligible society ladies, none of whom seem to have an issue with the fact that you possess not even a smidgen of style, but . . . you do possess a far too intriguing fortune.”
Harrison raised a hand to his heart. “Now, that hurts.”
“I highly doubt that,” Cornelia said with a roll of her eyes. “But returning to the reason I’m here, it’s about—”
“Edwina,” Harrison finished for her, knowing it would be best all around if he simply owned up to the idea that he’d lost all control over the situation with his younger sister.
Unfortunately, it soon became clear his mother was not aware of that particular situation because she abandoned the cup of coffee she’d picked up again, sat forward on the chair, and pinned him with a glare that was downright terrifying.
“What about Edwina?” she demanded.
“You haven’t seen her since you’ve returned?” Harrison countered, the only plausible question that sprang to mind while his thoughts began sorting through any and all explanations that might not find him the victim of his mother’s wrath.
“You’re stalling. Out with it. What has she done now, and why, pray tell, weren’t you there to stop her?”
Harrison’s forehead furrowed. “Perhaps you have me confused with your other son, Mother. If I need remind you, I’ve never been able to stop my sisters with any of the mad schemes they’ve contemplated over the years.”
“Very funny as I don’t have another son, but . . . what mad scheme is Edwina contemplating?”
“I’m afraid she’s traveled past the contemplation phase and embraced a plan of action.”
When h
is mother began tapping a shoe against the floor, Harrison knew there was nothing left to do but disclose all, no matter the trouble that it was certain to bring him, as well as Edwina.
“She may have decided to give society a whirl, and because she’s a most resourceful lady, a lovely trait she inherited from you . . .” He tossed a smile his mother’s way, not reassured when her lips pressed into a thin line and her toe-tapping increased.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, you see, she’s become acquainted with Miss Permilia Griswold, Asher’s fiancée, a lovely young woman I know you’ll adore since you adore Asher. Add in the idea that Permilia seems to be the love of Asher’s life . . .”
“No distractions if you please. Edwina . . . society . . . her resourcefulness.”
“Quite right. I’ve taken to digressing, haven’t I?”
Cornelia sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and began a tactic he’d seen her use often throughout the years, a tactic he and his sisters affectionately referred to as waiting them out.
Drawing in a breath, he crossed his arms over his chest, then made the instant decision now was not the time to attempt to beat his mother at her own game.
“Besides making the acquaintance of Permilia Griswold, who is a member of society, although was regulated to the wallflower section, Edwina also became known to a delightful young lady, another wallflower no less, and because of that introduction—”
Cornelia sucked in a sharp breath, stopping Harrison midsentence. “You never refer to ladies you know as delightful. Could it be possible that you’ve been purposefully withholding information about this delightful young lady because you’ve developed an interest in her, and yet don’t want me to interfere in your courtship?”
“I don’t have time to court any lady, Mother, as you very well know. Our business is booming these days, and because of that, I need to give it my full attention. From what I understand, courting a lady takes effort and flowers and . . . well, I could go on and on about the courting rituals I’ve read about in . . . well, never mind about that. Suffice it to say that now is not the time for me to pursue any lady, but do know that I certainly will seek out your counsel when the time is appropriate for me to set my attention to matters of courting.”
“Matters of the heart, dear, rarely wait for an appropriate time to strike.”
“Duly noted, but—”
Interrupting whatever he’d been about to say with a wave of her hand, Cornelia tilted her head. “What courtship books have you been perusing?”
“I have no idea how we’ve become so distracted from the subject of Edwina, but returning to my darling yet oh-so-troublesome sister, she’s making arrangements even as we speak to travel to Newport and become introduced to society by a society matron, Mrs. Davenport.”
Instead of the outrage he was expecting that statement to elicit, even though he knew he should be slightly embarrassed about tossing his sister under the carriage wheels for the sheer purpose of distracting his mother, Cornelia turned her head to the window, taking a long moment to study the people on the sidewalk before she turned back to him. “You haven’t been reading your sisters’ novels again, have you?”
“You know about my deepest and darkest reading secret?”
The corners of Cornelia’s lips twitched. “Of course. I’m your mother. And as your mother, I know exactly why you decided to read stories with a strong romantic thread to them. You’re the only male in the family, except for your father, and because you’ve been surrounded by females your entire life, reading novels that were penned by the likes of Jane Austen, Emily and Charlotte Brontë, and even Mary Shelley, was a brilliant way for you to get a small understanding of how the feminine mind works.”
“I think you may be affording me far too much credit, Mother.”
Cornelia shook her head. “You’re less obtuse about women than what you present to the world, darling, even if you’ve yet to understand that.”
“I think you may have just insulted me.”
“I have done no such thing, although one could hardly blame you for adopting an obtuse attitude. In all honesty, I’ve always believed you’ve done so as a means of self-preservation, a way to survive to adulthood, if you will, while surrounded by so much femininity.”
Harrison smiled. “I used to believe it was a normal occurrence for rooms to have legs hanging from the rafters.”
Cornelia returned the smile. “Your sisters have always been less than selective about where they hang their stockings, especially when we’re traveling at sea. But those types of experiences have allowed you to witness more of the feminine world than most gentlemen of the day, which will eventually serve you well if you’re blessed to have daughters of your own.” Her smile suddenly faded. “But speaking of daughters, I’m suddenly returned to the idea that one of mine is running amok, and . . . forgive me, but you didn’t mention something about a Mrs. Davenport earlier, did you?”
“I did. She’s the society matron who has enthusiastically agreed to sponsor Edwina into society, and the last I heard, she’s invited Edwina to spend the summer season with her in Newport.”
Cornelia gripped the arms of the chair. “May I dare hope that Davenport is a common name amongst the New York society set?”
“Why would you dare hope something like that?”
Cornelia released a sigh. “I’ve somehow managed to become so distracted with all the talk of ladies, your sisters, and novels that I’ve yet to explain the true reason for seeking you out at the office.”
With that, she rose to her feet and strode across the office, picking up a bag she’d abandoned by the door. She rifled through it, then pulled out what appeared to be a lady’s reticule, one that looked as if it was meant to be used at formal events. Holding it up to Harrison, she arched a brow.
“Does this look familiar to you?”
The back of Harrison’s neck began to tingle. “I can’t say it does.”
Cornelia opened the reticule and pulled out a strand of pearls. “Do these look familiar to you?”
“I’m sorry, but all pearls look the same to me.”
Heaving a breath, Cornelia reached into the reticule again and pulled out a locket. “What about this?”
The tingling increased. “Is that Margaret’s locket?”
“It is, the one with a miniature painting of your grandparents inside it.” She dropped the locket back inside the reticule. “There are other items in here as well, but what is truly concerning to me is that I discovered these in the possession of a young lady I found sneaking around the Cornelia, a lady who claimed she was a paid companion to none other than a Mrs. Davenport.”
A sense of dread descended over him. “This young lady wouldn’t happen to go by the name of Miss Gertrude Cadwalader, would she?”
Cornelia blinked. “Good heavens. You know Miss Cadwalader?”
“She’s that delightful lady I mentioned before, and a very dear friend of mine.”
Cornelia blinked again before she lifted her chin. “Perhaps you really are far more obtuse than I’ve imagined, because Miss Gertrude Cadwalader is not delightful in the least. She is a confidence artist and a thief. And as such, she deserves to remain in jail, which is exactly where the authorities I summoned took her.”
Chapter
Eighteen
“Surely you must realize it’ll go easier on you, Miss Cadwalader, if you simply make a full confession while also providing me with a complete list of your associates.”
Resisting the urge to bang her head against the scarred wooden table in front of her because she’d been asked to confess and divulge names of her associates for the past four hours, Gertrude lifted her chin.
“We’ve been over this about a million times, Officer Huntington. I don’t have any associates. I’m simply a paid companion, not a professional criminal.”
Officer Huntington looked up from the notes he’d been compiling. “That’s what all criminals say, Miss Cadwalader. Now, tell me,
who exactly is this Mrs. Davenport you mentioned to Mrs. Sinclair when she found you in possession of items that didn’t belong to you, and what part does Mrs. Davenport play within your criminal organization?”
“Mrs. Davenport is not a criminal. She’s a respected member of New York society.”
Officer Huntington removed his spectacles, wiped the lenses with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, returned the handkerchief, and then pushed the spectacles back over his nose. “Why would a respected member of New York society bother to associate with someone of the criminal persuasion?”
“I’m not of the criminal persuasion. I’m a paid companion who was running an errand for my employer, which, unfortunately, did not turn out quite the way I’d expected.”
“Ah, so Mrs. Davenport has no idea she employs a thief?”
“I’m not a thief.”
“Why were you caught red-handed with possessions that didn’t belong to you?”
“That’s a little tricky to explain, but allow me to simply say that those possessions were never taken from the Cornelia, so in actuality, they’d never been stolen.”
“Only because you were caught before you were able to leave that ship.”
Gertrude leaned back in her chair. “Which is a valid point, Officer Huntington, but again, I wasn’t trying to leave the ship with items that didn’t belong to me. I was only trying to return them to their proper place.”
“Which is an odd thing for a thief to do, but it implies that someone took those items to begin with. However, here’s what I believe happened. You slunk around the ship looking for valuables while attending what sounds to me like a night of frivolity. Then you returned when you thought the coast was clear, using an excuse that’ll be easily dismissed once Miss Edwina Sinclair is located, that claim being rather flimsy since you and I both know there were no plans for you to meet Miss Edwina Sinclair today.”
“Fine,” Gertrude admitted, knowing Officer Huntington was right in claiming she’d been slightly less than honest. “I didn’t have plans to meet Edwina on board the Cornelia, but I didn’t travel to the yacht to rob it. I truly was only there to fetch that reticule and return items that were inadvertently stashed inside the reticule to their proper owner.”