She smiled like a cat who had cornered a mouse. “Have a seat.”
He didn’t like her being in the seat of authority and power, but he sat anyway. Best to give the impression of being amenable. “I thought you weren’t going to rise before noon.”
She had obviously been up for quite some time.
“The stress of last night’s events kept me from sleep.”
She appeared fully rested.
Unlike himself and his nightmares. Great vultures, in evening suits and black ties, swooped down and carried Miss Dewitt off. When he tried to rescue her, a swarm of ladies clawed at him, pulling him to pieces and scattering him in an abandoned field.
He mentally shook off the unpleasant thoughts. “Or was it that you didn’t want me here first thing?”
She shrugged one slender shoulder. “Your later arrival did allow me some solitude to gather my thoughts.”
More like excuses.
His attention remained on the shoulder she had so casually raised. He remembered it milky-white peeking from under the top of her sleeve last night.
Miss Dewitt folded her hands on the desk. “So, on to the next requirement of the will.”
Graham stared. Compliancy? From Miss Dewitt?
“I see no point in this. None of the gentlemen in attendance last night are suitable candidates.”
Not so compliant after all. But he had a counter prepared for what he had surmised would be her first and strongest argument. Did she truly believe she could outthink him? She didn’t have the mental fortitude. “How can you be so sure after one evening?”
“Try six years of evenings, social events, and parties. This isn’t the first time my uncle has tried to marry me off to one of these gentlemen, as well as others.”
So, she knew the dinner party would be an exercise in futility. He found it a relief that she wasn’t considering any of those vultures, but she needed to find someone. “If not one of them, then whom would you consider?”
Again, her indifferent shrug. “The eligible men have all been ferreted out.”
“So, are you saying there isn’t one worthy gentleman in all of Boston and the surrounding areas?” It would have been impossible for her to have met them all.
“Not at all.” She waved a hand carelessly. “There were suitable Christian men. I either could not fall in love with them, or they found good wives.”
“Lord Claremont seemed quite taken with you. And he comes with a title.”
“I am not interested in a title. Lord Claremont’s interest is aimed at my great-uncle’s bank account and holdings. I’m merely standing in his way.”
He couldn’t argue with that. If not for his experience with the ladies, he might not have seen the disingenuousness of the men’s overtures. “What, then, do you propose?” He knew she had likely put great thought into the matter.
“I declare my uncle the victor, put an end to this farce, and procure myself employment.”
An unexpected guffaw shot out of him. “I’m sorry.” He schooled his laughter. “I cannot picture you working. What would you do? Salesclerk at a millinery or flower shop?” He pictured her as a maid or cook. Disastrous. “You have no idea what it is like to work. People like you mistakenly think working is easy.”
Her chin tipped up. “People like me?”
“The wealthy, who have never worked a day in their lives and have had everything handed to them.”
“You have obviously never attended a finishing school for ladies. I have attended three.”
“Three?” Had she failed out of the first two?
“My uncle was at a loss about what to do with me, so he sent me to finishing school, then found a better one, and then a better one. Very hard work indeed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Learning how to hold your little finger out when you drink tea?”
“Sitting up straight for hours without allowing your back to touch the piece of furniture you are seated upon. Not once.”
He then noticed the space between her and the back of the chair she sat in. His posture was lax. He shifted forward. Within a few minutes, his back migrated toward the support of the chair again. How did she make it appear so natural?
She continued. “Keeping a conversation going when you have no interest in the subject nor the person prattling on.”
She’d always seemed attentive when he’d spoken with her. Or had that been an act she had been taught to perfection?
“Knowing which gown is appropriate to wear to which function, sometimes changing four or five times a day. A considerable waste of time. Clothes you have to be cinched into that require another person to make it possible. Not to mention learning how to breathe in such garments so one doesn’t faint. Slow, shallow breaths.”
He never realized the difficulties. Or absurdities. Ladies made everything appear so effortless. “If you have put this much thought into your argument, then you must have ideas about the types of employment you would be qualified for.” Then he could tell her why each one was unfeasible and ill thought out.
“I could teach at a finishing school for girls or be a governess. I could give private French or piano lessons.”
He could conjure no arguments for those. In fact, he hadn’t considered this line of thought. Why would someone of her high station ever contemplate working? But let her try. She would see it wasn’t as simple as she thought when she had cracks in her hands and dirt under her fingernails. He doubted he would make any headway by opposing her. “Compromise?”
Her eyes twitched. “What are you proposing?”
“I won’t discourage you from seeking employment if you continue with your uncle’s course of action as it’s laid out in his will.”
She stood and held out her hand.
He rose slowly and hesitated a moment before unconventionally gripping her hand as though he were making an agreement with a man.
She pumped his hand once. “Agreed.”
She’d agreed a little too readily, but he said anyway, “Agreed.”
Victoria mentally patted herself on the back. Getting her way had been easier than she had anticipated. She could endure a few outings with gentlemen—provided they behaved themselves—if it meant she didn’t have to wait to pursue employment. She stepped out from behind the desk. “Cook has prepared a nice tomato bisque and finger sandwiches. I thought something light would be in order.”
Mr. Wellington proffered his elbow to her. “Sounds delicious.”
She rested her hand on his forearm and walked into the dining room. He seated her then sat. She said grace, and Foster served the soup and sandwiches.
He picked up his spoon. “We need to discuss the gentlemen who were in attendance last night.”
She stopped, her finger sandwich midway to her mouth, then set it back onto her plate. “Must we tarnish a good meal with such talk?”
“I think it prudent to move forward. As you said, three months is not long to find a husband.”
But plenty of time to secure employment. Then she could call this mockery to an end. “Very well. If you insist.” She motioned to Foster.
He crossed to her. “Yes, miss?”
“Would you bring me the file on the corner of the desk? And a fountain pen, please.”
He bowed, departed, and returned promptly. He set the file and pen on the table next to her.
Mr. Wellington stared at the retrieved items. “I thought your uncle had only dip pens.”
“I am not my uncle. I tried to get him more up-to-date, but he refused. I’m surprised he didn’t use a quill.” She opened the file.
“You have a list of the men at the ready?”
“I thought it prudent to save time.” She uncapped the pen. “Lord Hugh Claremont. Completely unsuitable.” Overbearing, self-absorbed, tedious. She struck through his name with a flourish. “Gordon Montgomery. No.” She crossed off his name with pleasure. “Reginald Parker. No.” Crossed off. “Martin Mayfair. No.” She read each name and struck through t
hem with pleasure.
“What are you doing?”
“I am weeding out those who are ill suited.”
“But you have eliminated every name.”
She smiled. “So I have. I guess this task is done.” She closed the folder and set the pen atop it. Now, she could enjoy her food.
He reached across the table and snagged her folder and pen.
That flew in the face of good etiquette, but she chose not to mention it and sipped her soup.
He flipped open the folder. “Jonathan Warner. He seemed like a nice enough chap and couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”
“Jonathan and Ellis Warner’s business practices are suspect at best.”
“Stanley Browning. He was nice, and you seemed to get on well with him.”
“I do get on well with him. He’s like a brother to me. To marry him would be like marrying my brother. Neither he nor I could tolerate that.”
“Tobias Ring?”
She shook her head.
“You have to pick someone.”
“I tried to get you to understand before the party that none of these men were suitable.”
“Then other men.”
Foster entered, saving her from further torture. He crossed to Victoria silently, holding out a silver tray.
She picked up the calling card, read the name, and placed it back on the tray. “Tell Lord Claremont I’m not receiving callers today, and put his card with the others.”
“Lord Claremont is here?” Mr. Wellington smiled. “Invite him for lunch.”
“Am I not allowed one day of peace?”
Foster looked to her for his order.
She heaved a heavy sigh to show her displeasure. “Invite him in.”
Mr. Wellington pinned her with a stare. “You’ve had other gentlemen callers today? How many?”
She fluttered her hand as though lazily swatting at a fly. “I lost count after five. Hm. Maybe seven or eight. I didn’t see any of them, but they all left their cards. I told you last night’s affair would open things up for them to start calling.”
Lord Claremont swept into the room as though it belonged to him. His afternoon suit and ornamental walking cane were a bit overstated for a casual visit. He hadn’t been the oldest at the party, middle thirties, and had already burned through his inheritance. And now he wanted hers.
He scooped up Victoria’s hand and kissed it. “So good of you to see me.”
She motioned to her uncle’s empty seat. “Won’t you join us?”
He glared at the sandwiches. “I’ve eaten. I came by to invite you on an outing tomorrow.”
Of course his lordship wouldn’t eat anything with his fingers.
“I was just settling my calendar with my uncle’s solicitor. I will inform you if there are any vacancies.”
“Certainly every moment of your time cannot be taken up.”
Oh, she would make sure it was. “There is so much to do in regards to my uncle’s will.”
When Lord Claremont glanced at Mr. Wellington, Victoria made a face to show how she felt about his lordship. Unladylike, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be a lady much longer but a working girl.
Failing to control a smile, Mr. Wellington glanced away.
“I will anxiously await to hear from you.” Lord Claremont kissed her hand again and strolled out.
Her guest stared after Claremont longer than necessary. Possibly to make sure the man had left. He turned to Foster. “Mr. Dent, would you bring all the cards delivered today?”
Foster looked to her for permission.
She nodded.
He left and returned with a silver tray.
Mr. Wellington retrieved the cards and counted them. “Ten, including Lord Claremont’s.” He thumbed through the cards and sorted them into two piles.
She ignored him and sipped her soup one spoonful at a time.
He put his hand on one pile. “These you have already discounted.” He picked up the others. “These are still open for discussion.”
None of the gentlemen from last night were open for discussion. She continued spooning in soup.
He flipped through the cards. “Peter Strausberg. Winston Lockhart. Douglas Berg. Robert Lewiston. And Carlton Carver. Just an outing or two with each. What could it hurt?”
“Not Robert Lewiston. I won’t even consider anyone who isn’t a Christian.” The others at least went to church and claimed to be Christians.
“Very well. Then how about—”
“Stanley Browning.”
He gave her an indulgent look. “You said he was like a brother.”
“Better to spend time with a brother. He can advise me.”
“As you wish. We have the required five.”
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin. “And I will choose five women for you.”
“Me? You are the one—” He cut himself off, frowning. A few other emotions played across his expression.
Good. He was confused.
“Sir, do you expect me to go on outings with men without a chaperone?”
“Of course not. I will be with you every time any of these men call on you.”
“Well, that will be awkward. It will be better if there are two women and two men.” She pushed from the table and stood. “‘Just an outing or two with each. What could it hurt?’”
She walked out before he could reply.
Chapter 5
On Monday morning, Victoria stood in her foyer, slipping her hands into a pair of fur-lined black leather gloves. Her dark gray wool coat had a black fox fur collar and cuffs and was fastened up to her neck. She secured her wide-brimmed hat on her head with tulle tied into a big bow under her chin. All ready to go.
Foster and Neil waited outside as Graham rode up the lane. The door opened, and Foster ushered her daily warden inside while Neil took care of his horse.
Graham eyed her. “Are you going somewhere?”
“We are going into Boston where I will be visiting Mrs. Marshall’s School of Graces for Ladies, the Bancroft Finishing and Boarding School for Young Girls, and the Auckland Private School.”
“We are going to all those places in one day?”
“That’s just the morning. We’ll lunch at the Majestic Hotel Dining Room before heading to the Catholic School for Girls and Madame Lafayette’s Etiquette and Manners for Young Girls. I need to pick up a hat I ordered at Hampton’s Millinery.” His surprised expression was endearing, but she would not allow herself to giggle or even smile. “Finally, afternoon tea at the Lindens’, where Mr. Peter Strausberg will be present, which should make you happy. Then, back here for a light supper.”
He raised his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “You have everything arranged, I see.”
He didn’t expect she would let him dictate her every move when Mr. Frye had said he was at her beck and call? “I have included both employment options as well as seen to the provisos of the will. If I am to take the time to go all the way into Boston, I must use the trip prudently.”
“And you have leaned more heavily toward the employment side of things,” Graham said.
“One doesn’t want to seem too eager where gentlemen are concerned, lest one be considered wanton.”
Foster stood ready at the door. “Are you sure you don’t want Pierce to drive?”
“We’ll be fine. You and the staff can rest and enjoy the day. I will need nothing from any of you until supper.”
“Very good.” Foster opened the door.
Graham rushed to her side to escort her out. He stopped short on the bottom step.
She turned to face him. “Is something wrong?”
“You have a horseless carriage?”
“We prefer ‘automobile,’ and we have two. This 1905 Cameron Runabout, as you can see, seats two. And a larger Buick model that seats four, two front and two back, with a canvas top for inclement weather. It isn’t technically mine but my uncle’s. Shall we?”
“I don
’t …” He stared at the yellow vehicle. “I’ve never …”
“You don’t have to. I’m driving.”
“You know how to drive?”
Though automobiles were still a new trend—one people said would pass—her uncle had bought the Buick last year after Victoria had cooed over the idea. She had bribed Pierce, the chauffeur, to teach her to drive it. This year her uncle had bought the smaller Runabout. “Yes. I am a thoroughly modern lady.” She walked to the driver’s side and waited for him to assist her.
He hurried to her side. “Not thoroughly modern.”
She supposed not if she expected him to lend her a hand, as she had.
He helped her in and climbed in the other side. “Are you sure you don’t want the chauffeur to drive?”
“If you’re afraid, you don’t have to come with me.”
He settled his gaze forward.
Men could not bear to have their masculinity questioned.
Pierce stepped in front of the automobile and turned the crank. The engine started straight away. The chauffeur came to Graham’s side. “No need to worry, sir. I taught her myself. She knows how to handle her. I wouldn’t let her go if she couldn’t.”
The pallor of Graham’s face told her he wasn’t convinced.
Though tempted to drive fast and recklessly—but within control—to really shake him up, she would be considerate and drive with caution. She didn’t want him to think poorly of her or find her unappealing. Easing the vehicle forward, she headed down the lane.
Graham’s skepticism had quickly faded, and he’d been impressed with Victoria’s driving ability. She had command of the vehicle and didn’t drive irresponsibly. He could see where one of these novelties could be fun for a time. But with their unreliability, they would likely never truly replace horses as some people had suggested. The wind created at motoring speeds made the cool fall air downright chilly. He had struggled not to visibly shiver.
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 10