Once an Heiress (Gilded Promises)

by Renee Ryan

  Gigi knew Caroline and Elizabeth better. She’d worked for both of them, and they’d bonded in a friendship beyond employer and employee. Despite each of their rough roads to happiness, Elizabeth and her cousin, Caroline, were settled in their new lives. They’d married well, joined in life to men who adored and doted on them.

  “Gigi.” Sophie took Gigi’s shoulders and gently guided her to the bench at the foot of her bed. “You are not a domestic. You are masquerading as a domestic. There’s a difference.”

  “You are the only person who knows I’m not really a servant.”

  “I very much doubt that. The women you once served are intelligent and quite observant.” She knelt down and pressed her palms on Gigi’s knees. “I would wager both Caroline and Elizabeth already suspect the truth.”

  Gigi thought back over her time with each woman. Yes, they’d suspected she wasn’t what she seemed. Their questions had been careful and discreet, and they’d let off when Gigi had refused to talk. But she’d left her positions with them because the questions had gotten too close to the truth, the risk of exposure too great.

  “Please, Gigi, come to lunch with me at Elizabeth’s house.”

  The urge to spend an afternoon in the company of women she admired was too strong to resist. She’d spent too many months poised between two worlds, belonging to neither, unable to find her place. Perhaps, for a few hours, in the company of women she liked and trusted, Gigi could be herself.

  “All right, I’ll go.”

  “Wonderful.” Sophie clapped her hands together. Gaining her feet, she studied Gigi a long, silent moment. “You cannot wear your uniform.”

  “I have another dress.”

  “That hideous brown rag?” Sophie made a face. “No. If there is any part of that you didn’t understand, let me repeat myself. No.”

  “I don’t have the money to buy a new dress.” She needed every penny for the pearls.

  “We are nearly the same size.” Sophie circled her. “Yes, very nearly. You will wear one of mine.”

  Gigi’s mouth opened, then closed. She felt something odd in her chest. Was that hope? An awakening?

  She felt nearly like her old self.

  A small victory and one she gladly accepted. Later, when she was alone, she’d worry about what to wear to the luncheon.

  The ballroom overflowed with three hundred of New York’s social elite. The ball would last well into the evening hours. Fitz would stay an hour, no more than two. He’d rather be anywhere but in the Waldorf-Astoria’s famous ballroom. However, he knew the value of mingling with future investors. He also needed a distraction from thoughts of Gigi. Ever since he’d come upon her with the children, she’d taken up residence in his mind, and certainly in his heart.

  Fitz had seen a side of the woman he’d never known existed. She’d looked like a mother, a woman he could see himself growing old with. He shouldn’t have pulled her into his arms. He definitely shouldn’t have kissed her.

  Nothing could have stopped him.

  Fitz was willing to admit, if only in the private recesses of his mind, that he wanted Gigi in his life. But friendship was the most he could hope for, the most he dared pursue.

  Shoulder propped against the wall, he was, as usual, content to watch the celebration from a distance. He forced himself to pay attention to his surroundings.

  The strains of a waltz floated on the air, while a rainbow of dancers whirled past him. It seemed the entire population of New York’s upper crust had been invited to this affair. The men wore formal black suits, with white vests and matching white ties. The women were dressed far more colorfully in formal gowns. They wore long white gloves up their arms. Jewels adorned their hair, necks, and wrists.

  Gigi should be among them, laughing, dancing, and using her charm to win the heart of every man in attendance.

  She was probably holed up on the third floor of Esmeralda’s town house, removing stains from a dress not her own. A pity, Fitz thought, and yet he knew the changes in her were because of her low position. She had more depth. But also more sadness.

  Fitz wanted to erase the pain that lived in her eyes. He wanted to be the man who—

  He cut off the rest of the thought.

  Nothing could come of his growing attraction. He would never marry her, or any woman. He would not father any children. He would not destroy a woman for his own selfish gain. The investment firm would become his legacy, a tangible way to leave his mark on the world.

  Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked out across the ballroom in time to see Luke walk in from the terrace, guiding his wife to the dance floor. The way the pretty blonde moved effortlessly on her husband’s arm spoke of easy familiarity and connection.

  I will never have that with a woman.

  Fitz was sorry for that, more so now that he and Gigi were no longer at odds. Their kiss had sealed his affection for her. He felt more alive in her company, more awake, as if he were emerging from an unpleasant dream that had held him in its dark grip for far too long.

  When Gigi was near, the world made sense. Fitz’s footsteps were lighter and—

  My footsteps are lighter?

  He shook his head. Any more of this sappy introspection and he would find himself putting pen to paper to write poetic verse in Gigi’s honor. Him, the man she herself had claimed had no imagination or sense of what constituted a romantic gesture, now reduced to poetic musings.

  Mouth tight, jaw clenched, Fitz tried to calm his raging pulse. A frown knitted his eyebrows together.

  “Now that’s the sight of a man wishing to be anywhere but here.”

  Welcoming the interruption, Fitz pushed away from the wall and settled his gaze on his friend. Luke’s eyes were full of humor.

  “I prefer boardrooms to ballrooms.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  As he shook hands with his friend, Fitz got his first glimpse of Luke’s wife up close. She was a beautiful woman. She had a petite frame and blue eyes, and her hair was the palest of blondes. With Luke’s hair a shade darker than hers, the two made the quintessential golden pair.

  “He sounds like you, Luke.” A soft tinkle of laughter followed the statement, the sound complementing the woman’s sculpted, elegant beauty. “Now do your duty, husband, and introduce me to your friend.”

  “I am at your service, my love.” Luke took his wife’s hand, swept an intimate smile over her face, then said, “Elizabeth Griffin, I would like you to meet Christopher Fitzpatrick. We attended Harvard together.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

  “Please, Mrs. Griffin, call me Fitz.”

  “Only if you agree to call me Elizabeth.”

  He inclined his head.

  “Wait, you’re Fitz? From Harvard? Of course.” She looked to her husband, then back again. “You’re the friend who may be investing in Luke’s automobile company.”

  “That would be me.”

  “How wonderful. But why are you hovering in the shadows instead of joining in the party?”

  He decided to be truthful. “The ballroom is hot, overcrowded, and I am a bit—”

  “Overwhelmed by the vast quantities of unfamiliar New Yorkers?”

  “In a word, yes.”

  “Tell me about Boston,” she said, clearly attempting to put him at ease. “I have only visited your city once, and it was a very long time ago.”

  Fitz welcomed the opportunity to expound on the city he called home. He told her about boating on Boston Harbor and picnicking on one of the islands, then added, “It’s a city full of history.”

  This seemed to delight Luke’s wife. “I adore history. If I can coax my husband into taking me for a visit, what should we see first?”

  Fitz and Luke answered simultaneously. “Harvard’s campus.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I see my husband was right about you.”

  “How so?”

  “You two are of a like mind.” She patted Luke’s cheek. “
Now, it’s time I leave you two to speak business.”

  “You wound me, Little Bit.” Luke gave his best imitation of a man affronted. “I would never talk business in a ballroom.”

  With a display of amused indulgence, she kissed his cheek. “Then use the opportunity to speak about the ‘good old days’ at Harvard. It was a pleasure meeting you, Fitz.”

  “And you as well, Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, look, Penelope has arrived. I must speak with her about the luncheon next week.” A whimsical smile on her face, Luke’s wife wandered away.

  Both men watched her go.

  Once she was out of earshot, Fitz said, “I always suspected you were a man of sound judgment. Now that I have met your wife, I realize you are also a man of excellent taste.”

  Luke smiled with unabashed joy, as if he’d been laid low by love and couldn’t be happier. “Elizabeth is the very heart of me.”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass along the compliment.”

  “Please do.”

  There wasn’t time to say more, as a small commotion had broken out near the ballroom’s entrance. Excited murmurs filled the air, followed by a quick straightening of shoulders, a widening of eyes.

  All heads turned.

  A beat passed. And another. And then . . .

  Esmeralda made her entrance.

  Dressed in a red silk dress with layers of matching lace and intricate embroidery, the infamous diva sauntered into the ballroom like a queen lording over her realm.

  She took her time sashaying through the room, stopping every fifth or sixth step in order to strike a dramatic pose. With an assortment of feathers bobbing on her head, she waited for assembled guests to admire and adore her. Only then did she continue her journey through the room.

  Sophie trailed after her mother, falling farther and farther behind, her eyes riveted on a spot where three young men stood watching the dance floor. Had one in particular caught her eye? Or was Sophie attempting to distance herself from Esmeralda’s dramatic entrance?

  Esmeralda caught sight of Fitz and altered her course. Hips swaying and her face arranged in a calculating smile, she stopped her pursuit inches shy of running into him, close enough for him to get a whiff of her cloying perfume. She struck a final pose—one hand on her hip, the other poised gracefully in the air at shoulder level.

  “Fitz, tesoro.” She squeezed in between him and Luke, the move forcing Luke to step aside or risk coming away with a mouth full of feathers from the hat she wore. “What a surprise to see you here.”

  Somehow, Fitz doubted anything surprised this woman.

  “Sophie, come, say good evening to our friend.” Esmeralda waved her daughter closer. One problem. Sophie had fallen so far behind that she’d been swallowed up in the crowd. There was no sight of the young woman. Much to Esmeralda’s obvious displeasure. “Where is that girl?”

  The words were spoken in a flat Midwestern accent, far truer than any Esmeralda had used before. Fitz tried not to smile, but the diva put on quite a show.

  “I believe Sophie is conversing with my wife and sister over by that large potted plant.” Luke supplied this oh-so-helpful piece of information with an ironic twist of his lips as he gestured toward the other side of the ballroom.

  Esmeralda ignored him.

  “You dance with me, mi amore.” She held out her hand to Fitz, her Italian accent firmly back in place. “Come. We go now.”

  Fitz couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less.

  Unfortunately, he’d failed to make his preference known quickly enough. Esmeralda had already hooked her arm through his and was looking up at him expectantly.

  That, he supposed, was what he got for hesitating.

  Fitz had a precious half second to assure Luke they would talk later before he was twirling around the dance floor.

  Placing his hand at Esmeralda’s back, he guided her through the steps of a waltz. They pushed and threaded their way through the crowded parquet floor in a semblance of dancing.

  “You will ask my daughter to dance before the evening is through, yes?”

  Fitz saw the hope in Esmeralda’s eyes, along with the calculation and eagerness for him to agree. Then the diva quickly masked her expression with a bland smile.

  So much pride in this woman, so much bravado. Fitz understood both emotions and thought it was time for a frank discussion.

  “Esmeralda,” he began, keeping his voice at an octave only she could hear. “I am not interested in courting your daughter.”

  “I insist to know why.”

  He’d upset her. He heard it in her sharp gasp, saw it in the angry tilt of her lips. “Sophie and I don’t suit.”

  It was really that simple.

  The dark eyes that swept over him held a hawk-like sharpness. “You like her, do you not?”

  “She is a lovely girl.”

  Esmeralda dropped all pretense of charm. The diva disappeared. In her place was the mother wishing to see her daughter settled.

  It would not be with Fitz. The sooner Esmeralda understood that, the better for everyone involved.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of lavender silk heading toward a partially secluded alcove just off the right side of the dance floor. Sophie wasn’t alone. The young woman’s escort seemed familiar, but Fitz couldn’t place where he might have seen him before, if he had at all. Then he remembered the group of young men that had captured Sophie’s attention earlier.

  Even from this distance, the look of adoration in her expression was unmistakable. For his part, the man beside her had a look of quiet affection. There was an obvious attraction there, one that didn’t look completely new.

  Fitz said nothing to Esmeralda. His only wish was that the man would turn out to be far more worthy of Sophie than Dixon had been of Gigi. Putting the two young women out of his mind, he switched his attention to the diva.

  “I would think,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “that you would want more for your daughter than marriage to a man she hardly knows.”

  The anger was back in Esmeralda’s eyes. “You dare to suppose you know what I want?”

  Before responding, he took them through a series of complicated turns, glancing out onto the terrace. Sophie and her mystery man had moved into the shadows of a shallow alcove. They were still in view but appeared to be in deep conversation.

  Not your concern.

  “I have insulted you,” he said to Esmeralda. “That was not my intent.”

  “You think Sophie isn’t good enough for you because she is my daughter.”

  Though she spoke in a low hiss, the diva’s outrage was evident in the strain tightening around her eyes and lips.

  “Sophie is perfectly suitable.” For some other man. “She is not—”

  “Suitable enough for you.”

  Esmeralda looked unsure of herself, Fitz thought, realizing he’d never seen her in anything resembling a vulnerable state. Until now. “She is not the woman for me.”

  He did not expand on his reasons.

  A brief battle of wills ensued, where Esmeralda scowled and Fitz held the woman’s gaze without flinching.

  “Why do you refuse to consider courting my daughter?”

  She’s not Gigi. “It’s not possible.”

  “You are married?”

  “I am not married.”

  “Engaged, then?”

  “I am not engaged.” He knew he was being tediously redundant in his answers and not revealing anything specific. With women like Esmeralda, it never hurt to be overly careful.

  “Then you are free to court my daughter.”

  Nothing could mask the hope in Esmeralda’s eyes. Fitz almost pitied her predicament, the helplessness she must feel. Her daughter was suffering the consequences of her actions.

  Esmeralda would be appalled if she knew the direction of his thoughts. And so Fitz gave her yet another vaguely accurate response. “I am not free.”
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br />   He would never be free.

  The reasons were his own and not her concern.

  Fitz could, however, give her a portion of the truth.

  Executing a perfect spin, he commanded the diva’s stare and said, “My heart belongs to another.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gigi hadn’t always preferred quiet evenings at home. In truth, she’d hated being left alone, especially when there was a party or ball or theater event going on somewhere in the city without her.

  Much had changed in her life. She had changed.

  She relished her solitude now. And took pride in her life of service, craving her evenings alone whenever Esmeralda and Sophie went out and the other servants were enjoying their own time off.

  As she did most nights, Gigi took the opportunity to play the piano. Sheltered from the world that had once been so much a part of her, she could allow her emotions free rein. She could let her tumultuous feelings flow through her fingers.

  Gigi had one goal this night. Forget her problems, if only for an hour. She tucked the invitation to luncheon at Elizabeth’s house in the pocket of her dress and went to the music room.

  Battling unwanted sensations, she sank onto the piano bench. The Steinway was a new addition to the town house. It was smaller by a few feet than the concert grand Gigi had played in Harvest House but no less wonderfully crafted.

  The instrument was perfection itself. Gigi ran her fingers across the gleaming ivory keys, sighed heavily, and played a few melodic notes, first with her right hand, then with her left, then with both. The rich sounds had the ideal balance of harmonics. Only the best for Esmeralda.

  Gigi shut her eyes and played a piece from memory. She let her heart lead the way, choosing an adagio. The tempo marking suited her mood. Unfortunately, after the first bar, the slow, melancholy melody gave her mind a chance to wander.

  She forced out all other thought and let the music fill her head. Images of Fitz came seconds later. He’d kissed her, twice. She’d wanted more. She’d nearly begged for more.

  Have I not changed at all?