"Oh? I'm sure you would know all about that, Mr. O'Shea." She simpered with a flutter of dark lashes.
"What I don't know, I learn quickly," he said.
Caroline carefully positioned herself between them. She had a vaguely sheepish air about her, as if she were preparing to present Liam with another unwelcome surprise.
"We—Liam, I have told Miss MacKenzie…" She gave him her most beguiling smile. "I was hoping to take her out to the shops. She cannot be expected to get by on my hand-me-downs. I think my dressmaker might do something with her."
"She must be a miracle worker," Liam muttered. Caroline was thrilled at the prospect of playing benefactress to a woman several years her senior—and one so pathetically in need of exposure to the essentials of life. Her eyes glowed with the fervor of a missionary bent on saving souls.
"I cannot imagine what might have become of her without our help," Caroline went on obliviously, as if Mac were not even there. "But now there is hope. She is a little uncertain, and so inexperienced—"
Liam choked.
"—in the ways of society, but it's only a matter of the proper instruction. She must be respectable, since she is a missionary's daughter—"
Liam looked heavenward.
"—and I have been thinking how best to bring her out—"
"Bring her out?"
Caroline faltered. "Well, perhaps not as much as that. But surely there is no harm in taking her about and helping her get settled here. She has no connections other than Perry."
"Quite right," Perry said. "With our assistance she may at least find decent employment."
Liam turned slowly to confront the Englishman, who merely arched a brow in unspoken challenge.
"There. You see?" Bolstered by Perry's support, Caroline all but danced under her layers of expensive velvet and satin skirt. "Oh, Liam, it's almost like being part of one of your adventures."
Instead of rage he felt the mad desire to laugh. Saints above, did Caroline think she could transform a sow's ear into a silk purse? Not that Mac had ever been remotely like a sow. In that dress, ill-fitting as it was, she struck him as… quite appealing. Bloody hell.
"Please… don't be so stern, Liam," Caroline whispered. "Rose doesn't know you—"
"Rose?"
"Miss MacKenzie. Surely there's nothing wrong in calling her—"
"Rose?"
"It's a lovely name. Perhaps…" Caroline's expression grew dreamy. "Perhaps she is a wild rose in need of cultivating."
"We'll talk about this later, Caroline. I have business with Perry."
"And we women have important things to discuss." She returned to Mac's side, a perfect, ideal picture of budding womanhood. Everything Liam had sworn to protect.
But it was Mac's dark head rising above Caroline's golden curls that Liam noticed, and Mac's gaze he met before he turned away.
Perry was leaning indolently against the wall, watching the proceedings with cool detachment.
"Well, Perry," Liam said, moving to join him. "This is an unexpected surprise. It seems you've come to know Miss MacKenzie in a remarkably short time."
"I was most impressed with her when you introduced us yesterday," Perry said, pitching his voice for Liam's ears alone. "She seemed a very bright girl. Not the sort you should keep prisoner, old man."
"I won't even ask you how you got past my guard," Liam said, lowering his voice to match Perry's. "I'll get right to the point. What do you think you're going to accomplish with this little charade? What did you do to gain Mac's cooperation?"
"It should be obvious. I'm simply aiding an unfortunate young woman in need. You did misjudge the poor girl, assuming she was working for me in the jungle—and to kill you, no less." He looked up, brown eyes sharp in an impassive face. "You used and abandoned her, Liam. If you don't see fit to atone for your mistakes, it behooves me as a gentleman to make up for your lapse. Certainly Caroline would be quick to agree. And considering your behavior in the jungle—your close relationship with Miss MacKenzie…" He shrugged.
Liam came very close to grabbing Perry around his pristinely starched collar. "Is that what she told you? I didn't abandon her. I had plans for her—"
"Can you blame her for doubting your intentions? When I offered my help in this strange city, she had no recourse but to accept. And of course I knew Caroline would be the perfect mentor to take her in hand." He smiled a blandly infuriating smile. "Don't worry, old man. When I asked for Caroline's help, I didn't reveal your previous… knowledge of Miss MacKenzie. That might be rather awkward, don't you think?"
Blackmail, Liam thought. But blackmail can work two ways, my friend.
"I don't know what you plan to gain by this, but you won't succeed," Liam said softly. "Do you seriously believe San Francisco will accept your story of a long-lost cousin and missionary's daughter?"
"With my sponsorship and Caroline's, I've no doubt of it." He cast Caroline a frankly indulgent glance. "And I know you won't make it difficult for us. It would hardly be in your best interests."
"And Caroline's interests? Your devotion has a certain imperfection if you'd put her in company with an adventuress."
"It's you who've defined Miss MacKenzie so uncharitably, not I. I'm not worried about Caroline."
"Worried about what?" Caroline came up beside them, glancing from one man to the other. She took Perry's arm. "I hope you gentlemen are done with your business. Rose and I are nearly ready for our outing."
"Outing?" Liam repeated.
"To Cliff House," Perry said. "Caroline told me you'd promised it to her before we left for the jungle. She's most anxious to begin showing Rose the sights of the city."
"I know it's soon after her arrival, but she does so want to go," Caroline put in. "All those days on the ship were so tedious. No society at all! And I've been waiting such a long time for your return." She cast Liam an imploring look. "You did promise we could go whenever I liked."
Yes, Perry had worked on Caroline well. Liam could object, certainly, but it was better to keep Perry clearly in sight until a more permanent solution could be found.
"If it's too much trouble for you to escort them," Perry said smoothly, "I'd be more than happy to do the honors."
"That won't be necessary." Liam turned to Caroline. "Please take Miss MacKenzie upstairs while I see to the carriage."
He waited until Caroline and Mac were well out of earshot before he addressed Perry again.
"Enjoy this while you can, old friend," he said. "After today Caroline will be… otherwise engaged."
Perry drew a pair of driving gloves from his pocket. "Oh, I intend to make the most of it. I advise you to do the same."
Chapter Fourteen
Time travels in divers paces
with divers persons.
I'll tell you who Time ambles withal,
who Time trots withal,
who Time gallops withal,
and who he stands still withal.
—William Shakespeare
"NOW, THIS ISN'T nearly enough, of course," Caroline said, waving the corset in front of Mac's nose. "You'll need gowns for morning and evening and walking and carriage rides, at least five pairs of shoes and boots, three sets of gloves, several chemises—" She counted off on her plump fingers. "And hats, bustles, redingotes and wraps, a pocketbook, fans and parasols and jewelry and hairpieces…"
Mac groaned silently and wiggled cramped feet in her borrowed, one-size-too-small, high-heeled, narrow-toed walking boots. Her back already ached from carrying around numerous pounds' worth of skirt for the past two hours. She had yet to try on the corset Caroline insisted she wear—or the newest figure enhancer, the bust improver. Caroline had assured her that it would do wonders for her figure.
Trekking through the jungle and over mountains with Liam had been nothing compared to this. So much for the frailty of Victorian women. Mac thought about all the elegant fashion plates she'd seen in the streets and the Grand Court of the Palace. It must take Amazonian
strength to walk around all day wearing this sort of getup; Mac was already desperate for her jeans and T-shirts.
Caroline didn't seem to mind. She thrived on the restrictive intricacies of Victorian fashion—as she loved being the center of attention, no matter what form it took.
"I know what I've lent you isn't nearly enough," Caroline said, "but it's only to see you through the day. Tomorrow I will arrange to have my dressmaker fit you for evening gowns, and we shall go shopping at the City of Paris. Oh—" She clapped her hands like a child. "It will be such fun."
Fun. About a' much fun as Mac had had this morning, unexpectedly meeting Great-great-grandma for the very first time. Perry hadn't told her where they were going until they were halfway to the impressive Gresham mansion. He hadn't given Mac much warning of his scheme to introduce her to Caroline.
But the initial awkwardness of the introduction and Mac's role-playing as backward provincial had kept her from giving way to the astonishment of being in the same room with both her great-great-grandparents. There was no time for shock.
Perry had been correct—Caroline was fascinated by Mac's supposed origins. And Liam's ward had proved to be more beautiful than her photograph, with flawless skin, golden hair, and china-blue eyes.
At first she'd seemed the quintessential Victorian lady—or what Mac imagined to be the quintessential Victorian lady: dressed to the nines, pinched and padded into an hourglass figure, feminine, sweet and willing to help—even if she hadn't bothered to hide a certain condescension toward a plain, disadvantaged girl from uncivilized climes.
But that first impression had soon given way to another. Because Caroline was young. Younger than Mac realized. Young enough to be trembling on the brink of womanhood: wanting her way and not knowing what she wanted, achingly curious, malleable and stubborn, bold and uncertain, just like any other teenager in the history of time.
Exactly the right age to be totally messed up by men who thought they knew it all. At twenty-five Mac felt positively ancient by comparison. Compared to her own great-great-grandmother, for pity's sake.
There hadn't been much time to get to know Caroline in the two hours since Mac's arrival. She'd made a point of watching Caroline and Perry together; the girl basked in Perry's attention, comfortable in his presence. If the two of them had been left alone to go their merry way, Mac wouldn't have had a care in the world.
All that changed, however, when Liam arrived.
Mac had expected him to react badly when he found her here. If he'd been convinced before that she and Perry weren't working together—and she wasn't sure he bad been—he'd have every reason to suspect her now. And wonder what the hell she was up to.
But for the first time Mac had seen Liam with his ward—his bride-to-be. Their meeting hadn't been what Mac anticipated. With Liam Caroline's body language changed, became tense and wary and focused in spite of her façade of grace and charm. Mac had observed the girl's constant awareness of Liam, as if everything she did was performed somehow for his benefit, every word carefully chosen.
Performed: that was the term. An act designed to win Liam's approval. To make him notice her.
"You aren't listening, Rose," Caroline said, her voice suddenly much louder in Mac's ear. "But I must be overwhelming you. You had no such necessities in the jungles."
Mac looked behind her for Caroline's plush half-tester bed and plopped down heavily, grateful for the respite for her feet and back. She ran her hand along the satiny floral bedcover. Caroline's bedroom, like the sitting room, was even more ostentatious, if possible, than Mac's room at the Palace.
Caroline came to stand over her, lips pursed in disapproval. "I know things were very different in your former life, but now you must take my advice. It would never do to be seen… carrying yourself so negligently. You shall never win society's approval that way." She patted her golden curls. "I can only imagine what your cousin and Liam would say."
I know what Liam would say. Suppressing a sigh, Mac straightened. "Is it always so important what they think?"
The frothy coquettishness Caroline had shown with Liam and Perry was completely gone from her manner. "Of course. You must realize, Rose, that to win a man's regard you must learn to be a true lady. Composed, compliant, and agreeable."
Mac pricked up her ears. Caroline's tone was definitely condescending, yet there was a hint of wistfulness in her voice—even a touch of carefully veiled sarcasm. As if she were playing a role she accepted with unacknowledged reluctance.
"So you'd consider yourself an expert in… proper feminine behavior?" Mac asked.
Caroline looked at Mac sharply, and her limpid blue eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. If she recognized irony, she wasn't the airhead she appeared—or wanted to appear.
She moved to the small fireplace across the room and sat upright in one of the chairs, arranging her skirts around her feet. "Oh, yes," she said with false lightness. "I venture to say that I am an expert in the art of being a perfect lady."
"I'm sure," Mac began cautiously, "that Li—your guardian appreciates that."
"Liam?" Caroline pleated the material of her skirt. "He has the same… exacting tastes that my papa had. He paid for my finishing school after Papa died, when I was fourteen."
"He seems to be a man of very… strong opinions," Mac prodded.
Now Caroline was all airy indifference. "Sometimes he can be quite trying. But Liam is very strong. He's traveled all over the world." She gave Mac a patronizing smile. "You needn't be afraid of him, Rose—he will come to like you. I'm sure he will."
Thanks for the reassurance. "I'm grateful. But I'm… rather curious about Mr. O'Shea. What kind of background does he come from?"
Caroline stared at her folded hands. "Mr. O'Shea's people came from Ireland," she said. She paused awkwardly and hurried on. "He was in the mining business, and the railroads, just like Papa. He's very rich and admired by everyone in San Francisco."
Mac remembered Homer saying that Gresham had worked his way up to wealth as Liam had, but from much more prosperous beginnings. Liam had been dirt poor. Either Caroline didn't know that, or chose not to mention it. Maybe she was the kind who wanted to pretend that she, and everyone she knew, had always been rich and respectable.
Could Caroline be ashamed of Liam's past, or her own?
"So," Mac said, "Mr. O'Shea enjoys his place in society? He seems—I don't know him well, but it almost seems as if he wouldn't quite fit in with the… elegance of your world."
"You're quite mistaken," Caroline said quickly. "He may be… rough at times, but that is the way with strong men. My papa was often like that. Of course my papa gave me everything I wanted. There was nothing he would not do for me."
"While Mr. O'Shea is less accommodating."
"He is always protective. A woman feels safe with him." Caroline stood, brushing her skirts with her hands. "You haven't yet told me about your journey here," she said brightly. "You must have seen some very uncivilized places in your travels. How did you get on? Perry's stories can make them sound almost fascinating."
Perry's stories. Not Liam's. "They can be," Mac said. "Hasn't… Mr. O'Shea ever suggested that you accompany him on one of his adventures?"
"Certainly not." Caroline took an agitated turn about the room. "He would never take a lady into such peril."
"No," Mac said dryly, "I can't imagine Mr. O'Shea sharing that willingly with any woman."
Caroline came to a sudden stop. "Only see what happened to you. You were deprived of every refinement and advantage. Think what might have become of you if not for Perry! And in any case, Liam has no more need to leave San Francisco. Everything he wants is here."
"And what do you want, Caroline?"
"I want—" she began, biting her lip. "I want—"
But if she were tempted to confide in Mac, the incentive was obviously not strong enough. "I want to help you, Rose," she said abruptly. "You must be guided by me, and by Perry, if you wish to get on here."
/>
"Mr. Sinclair is a real gentleman," Mac said, scooting off the bed. "He's the son of a lord, isn't he?" She sighed. "If he weren't my cousin—"
"Mr. Sinclair is everything a gentleman should be," Caroline interrupted. "He is quite the favorite of our society."
"I can't imagine a man more different from Mr. O'Shea."
"No," Caroline murmured. "Completely different…" She shook her head. "Do you like the ocean?"
"You'll see it when we go to Cliff House." She smiled. "And tomorrow we shall shop all day. I have great hopes for you, Rose. With luck we may even find you a husband."
Mac had no chance to comment on that peculiar notion. The door swung open and Liam walked into the room.
"A word with you, Caroline," he said. He barely glanced at Mac before taking his ward's arm and escorting her out. Through the half-closed door Mac heard most of the conversation that followed.
"I hope you remember to carry yourself with decorum this afternoon, Caroline," Liam said, his words stiffly formal. "Your new… friend will ride with her cousin, and you with me."
"But I had promised Perry—"
"Miss MacKenzie hardly knows me, Caroline. She will be more comfortable with Perry."
Silence. After a moment Caroline spoke again, her voice taking on a faintly wheedling tone. "Will you let me drive the carriage today? Perry said it's not difficult, and I've been thinking I should like to try—"
"Out of the question. You don't have the slightest idea how to handle a team."
"I could learn."
"It's far too dangerous—not to mention fast."
"But other ladies—"
"You aren't other ladies." He paused. "How go the arrangements for the ball?"
Only a touch of sullenness lingered in Caroline's voice. "Perfectly. It will be the grandest event of the year. Everyone will envy me. And I shall save the very best dances for you and Perry."
Liam cleared his throat. "Perry may not be able to attend."
"What?"
"He has other commitments."
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