The American Heiress Brides Collection

by Carter, Lisa; Davis, Mary; Dietze, Susanne

  “She’s traveling by herself?” It seemed odd that an heiress, particularly one as wealthy as Miss Eison, would be traveling alone. Maybe she had other entertainments planned, ones where a chaperone would be an inconvenience.

  Evers laughed. “Dania likes to think of herself as a modern woman, but I’m sure she’s made arrangements for a maid to attend her while she’s here.”

  Of course she had. It wouldn’t do for her to button her own skirt or tie up her boots. She probably had a town house full of servants ready to act on her tiniest whim. “What time does her train arrive?”

  “Around noon, though she hasn’t made any plans until the next day.” He seemed almost embarrassed for her. “You know how young ladies are. Probably wants to rest after the strenuous journey.”

  A four-hour train trip strenuous? What was the woman made of, crystal? Matt swallowed his disdain. “Do you know what other exhibits Miss Eison is interested in visiting while she’s here?”

  The senator cocked his head to the side as if to think. “The fine arts building, I presume. Perhaps, the women’s building. Dania thinks she’s a very progressive thinker, though why she thinks that when she’s never been out of Tifton is beyond me.”

  Matt nodded. It sounded as if Miss Eison thought she was still on the plantation, complete with crinolines and a mammy. Maybe a few days in his company would jolt the woman into the new century that was coming.

  And if he enjoyed watching her stumble, so much the better.

  Chapter 2

  Dania Eison tugged at the edges of her woolen shawl as she stepped down onto the train platform, the cool air a relief compared to the heavy stuffiness of the passenger cabin. She thought to step farther into the rush of people then paused, her heart hammering against her chest. She’d never liked Atlanta, still didn’t. Too many people for her taste.

  Well, this wasn’t a pleasure trip. Mr. Ernest Young, one of the most noteworthy industrial engineers in the country, was speaking at the Cotton States Exposition in two days, and she planned on being there. True, she had almost canceled when the bobbin had broken on her main threader. Why come for a demonstration that may not be feasible for the mill? But what if it was? What if Ernest Young’s ideas on automation could be put to use on the floor of her mill? It would cost a pretty penny, but the welfare and safety of her young employees outweighed the cost. If only she could secure a meeting with the man, but all her attempts had been rebuffed.

  There was much to do in the next two days. Clasping her valise with both hands, she headed down the platform to the stairs that led to the street. Maybe the carriage Uncle George had promised would be waiting there.

  “Miss?”

  Dania had barely turned when she felt a strong pull on the valise in her hand. Shock tinged with anger exploded in her chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just let go, missy, and no one will get hurt.”

  “You just might!” Long hours of setting the thread and carrying cotton had strengthened her arms, and she was too stubborn to give up without a fight. She clutched the leather handle of her case and held on for dear life. “Police!”

  The man seemed startled by her response. “Let go!”

  The man yanked so hard Dania feared he’d dislocate her arm. But she refused to give up. Clasping the valise as tight as she could, she lifted her leg and kicked him hard just below the knee.

  Letting go of her case, the man stumbled back, clutching his knee as if she’d landed a mortal blow. “You didn’t have to do that, you little minx.”

  “The lady was much kinder than I would have been,” a masculine voice behind her said. “I would have shot you myself.”

  Dania turned. If she’d had any doubts about this man’s words, the infuriated expression on his face repelled them. “Too bad you weren’t here to demonstrate.”

  He gave her a cockeyed grin that caused her stomach to flutter. Probably shock from facing down a would-be thief. “You seemed to have the situation well under control.”

  Dania’s mouth fell open then snapped shut. Any of the men back in Tifton wouldn’t have thought twice at helping her, but then this wasn’t home, was it? “I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be, Mr ….”

  “No, I’m exactly where I belong. And the name is Langley, Miss Eison.” He walked over to her assailant and jerked him upright, causing the man to wince. “There’s a police officer just around the corner. I’ll be back as soon as I introduce this man to the authorities.”

  Dania blinked as she watched the two hurry down the platform. How did he know her name? Why did that name sound so familiar? Could he be one of the men she’d hoped to meet with at the exposition? Or …

  Dropping her valise, she opened her reticule and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of telegraph paper. Uncle George had begged off meeting her at the station, but he’d promised to send an associate in his place. She scanned over the telegram then smirked. A Mr. Matthew Langley.

  “Lovely.” Dania stuffed the paper back into her purse and clicked it shut. How Uncle George even knew she would be in Atlanta was anyone’s guess. After his unsuccessful bid to buy the mill out from under them, Papa had broken all ties with him. A thirty-year friendship destroyed over a business Dania wasn’t even sure could survive. But Papa had been adamant: “Don’t trust anything Uncle George might say. The mill will provide financial security to our family and the families of those who work there.”

  Papa. The sadness that accompanied any thoughts about her father brought a knot to her chest. Four long months since a heart seizure had claimed Papa’s life, yet it still felt so fresh. Mama could make it through the day now without crying, or at least, she hid it well. Katie, her younger sister, had returned to school in Savannah while her sister Gilly had taken the semester off from college to help out at the mill.

  “Miss Eison?”

  Gracious gravy, but the man was quick! Dania opened her reticule, retrieved a fifty cent piece from her coin purse, and handed it to him. “Thank you for alerting the police, Mr. Langley. I do appreciate it.”

  He glanced down at her hand as if she held a water moccasin. “Do you always pay people for doing the right thing?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then don’t insult me by offering me money.”

  She’d insulted him? Dania pulled her hand back as if it had been slapped. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. When I was planning this trip, I wasn’t expecting Uncle George to secure me an escort.”

  Confusion furrowed the man’s handsome brow. “The senator is your uncle?”

  She gave a humorless chuckle. “No. It’s just that my father and Uncle George have been friends since before I was born. Neither had any siblings, so they always considered themselves brothers.” That was until Uncle George tried to buy the mill out from under her family.

  “Miss Eison, is something wrong?”

  Dania lifted her head and met blue-green eyes touched by a hint of concern. Matthew Langley was quite an attractive man, probably the most handsome of her acquaintance. When he stared at her, as if his complete attention was focused on her, her heart skipped a beat. Dania shook her head. “Probably just tired from the train ride. I don’t travel very much.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Why would you think that I do?”

  If he thought her question odd, his expression didn’t show it. “Isn’t that what most young heiresses do? Travel around the country, shopping and attending teas? Dancing the night away in the arms of any one of a number of matrimonial candidates?”

  Dania didn’t know whether to be angry or fall down laughing. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve spent the last several years learning the family business.”

  He blinked at her response. “You work for your father?”

  The man seem surprised by her news, but at least he wasn’t mortified like most of the men she knew. “I’m the oldest of three sisters, Mr. Langley. With no male heirs, Papa felt it was im
portant that I learn all aspects involved in the daily running of our mill. It is a family business after all.”

  “Oh.” He looked slightly amused, as if the idea of her running the mill was humorous in some way.

  What exactly had Uncle George told this man about her? Whatever it was, he hadn’t painted an accurate picture of her or her life. Why did that bother her so much? Dania drew in a deep breath. “I appreciate your offer to escort me on Uncle George’s behalf, but there’s really no need.”

  Mr. Langley nodded, sitting back on his heels. “If that’s what you’d like.”

  An odd response, so very different from the men back home. For some odd reason, she wanted to know why. “You’re not going to remind me of the dangers of traveling alone or the damage that could be done to my reputation.”

  He studied her for a long moment then shrugged. “You appear to know all the arguments. Why bother repeating them?”

  Shaking her head, she gave him a slight smile. “Uncle George might not see it that way. As your employer …”

  “Oh, I don’t work for Senator Evers. At least, not yet.”

  This was getting confusing. Dania pressed her lips together. “Then why did my uncle ask you to escort me?”

  “Well, to be honest”—he gave her another of those lopsided grins and she forgot to breathe—“escorting you around is kind of my job interview.”

  She stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  “The senator said you had some ideas on how to change the textile industry that piqued my interest. Is that true?”

  Dania tensed; Uncle George’s resistance to changes at her mill was still an embarrassing memory. Why would Uncle George tell this man about the changes she hoped to make? How did he think Mr. Langley could help? “Are you on the state house committee that oversees the textile business?”

  “Oh no,” he chuckled. “I’m too honest to be a politician. I’m a news reporter for the Atlanta Journal and Constitution.”

  “Some people might say that’s almost as bad.”

  The rich timbre of his laugh sent a pleasant tingle up Dania’s spine. “You’re sharp as a tack, aren’t you?”

  “It comes in quite handy when you’re operating a business.” She shifted the focus back to Mr. Langley. “Might I have read some of your articles?”

  “You read the Journal?”

  “When I can get it. For the business news, of course,” Dania added, feeling herself blush. Truth be told, she devoured every paper she could get her hands on, a habit she’d started when she was barely old enough to read. Mama had always frowned upon it—young ladies needed to be protected against the harsh realities of the world—but it hadn’t stopped her papa from sneaking papers to her.

  “I just finished a piece on how the recession of 1890 widened the divide between social classes.”

  “That was your work?” Dania forgot her embarrassment and smiled. “We had quite an interesting conversation about that piece over the dinner table a few nights ago.”

  “That’s all I can hope for when I write on those vital topics.”

  Dania nodded. It had been more than just a discussion. Mr. Langley’s article had made her all the more determined to help those who worked for her and her family. Maybe he was just the man to help her. “I think I may have spoken too soon. If you’d still like to escort me to my appointments, I would be grateful.”

  His gaze settled on her, studying her as if she were the subject of one of his articles. “You changed your mind mighty fast.”

  “A lady can change her mind, can’t she?” Dania shifted from one foot to the other and decided to be completely honest. “Truth is, I’d like to hear more about the research you did for your article. I’d like to know what I can do to help those people you mentioned in the piece.”

  “You’re interested?”

  Why did the man sound so surprised? Did he think she was some kind of monster? “I do care about people, Mr. Langley.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t smile, but there was a light in his eyes when he offered her his arm. “And please. Call me Matt.”

  “Matt.” His name came out airy as if she was whispering her nightly prayers. Dania cleared her throat as she took his arm. “I’m Dania.”

  “Like its male counterpart, Daniel.” A warm tingle shot up her arm as he covered her gloved hand with his. “It suits you.”

  Her heart did a little flutter. It shouldn’t matter what Matthew Langley thought of her name or anything else, for that matter. Her first concern would always be her family and the children working in their mill. The only reason she was here in Atlanta was her business. She didn’t have time for romantic entanglements, no matter how attractive the man was.

  Chapter 3

  Dania Eison was up to something. Matt could feel it deep in his bones. Instinct, his editor had once told him. The scent of a story.

  There was certainly a story here. Matt glanced around the lobby of the Edgemont Hotel. A comfortable place with its hand-crocheted doilies, well-worn rugs, and comfortable chairs, but not exactly what he’d had in mind for a textile heiress. He’d been more than a little surprised when Miss Eison had given him the address to the clean but reasonably priced hotel; even more so when the owner, a Mr. Cooper, had greeted Dania like an old family friend.

  But then Dania Eison hadn’t been quite what Matt had expected. There was nothing in her manner to suggest her elevated social status, except for her well-made traveling suit that was the perfect shade of blue to match her luminous eyes. She was lovely, a beauty some might say, yet her manner seemed down-to-earth, as if she were unaware of her striking appearance. And she couldn’t have been more straightforward when she’d refused his escort.

  So why had she changed her mind?

  Footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. Dressed in a snowy white shirt, a dark blue serge skirt, and a no-nonsense straw hat, Dania could have passed for any one of the many young women hurrying around the city streets to their jobs. For some odd reason, the thought made Matt smile. “Miss Eison?”

  She turned and gave him a wide smile. “Mr. Langley. I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.”

  “No apologies are necessary. It gave me time to make a few notes on my next article.” Notes about her, though in all honesty, most were from his meeting with Senator Evers. Today, he would write down his own observations.

  Her smile widened, but there was a sense of relief in her eyes. “Good. I hate to think of me wasting your time simply because I couldn’t wake up this morning. I must be more tired than I thought.”

  Matt nodded. “Travel has a way of wearing a person out.”

  She stopped and gave him a worried look. “Do you find train travel exhausting?”

  What an odd question! “No, I find it quite relaxing myself. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I have a full schedule today, and I wonder if it might be too taxing for you.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. “Too taxing?”

  “Well, you just said travel wears you out, and I wouldn’t want you to get all tuckered out chasing me around Atlanta.”

  “I …” He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “You certainly speak your mind.”

  Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “One of my worst faults. Mama says it’s most unladylike.”

  “I don’t know.” He thought for a second. “I think it’s most refreshing.”

  Her eyes met his, and his breath caught in his throat. “That’s a very modern way of thinking.”

  Matt forced himself to breathe. “How else are we going to know what the fairer sex is thinking unless you tell us?”

  She chuckled softly. “You do have a point.”

  Matt wasn’t quite sure why, but the thought he could make her smile, as if he were the only man in the world who had that particular talent, gave him a sense of satisfaction. “So, Miss Eison, what is on the agenda for today?”

  “I’d hoped to do a bit of shopping.” Opening the clasp of her r
eticule, she retrieved a folded piece of paper. “There’s a fabric shop near Little Five Points that has large quantities of material for very good prices.” She handed him the paper. “I’m not quite sure how to say the last name.”

  “Mr. Shonkwiler.” The man who’d made Matt’s first shirt when he’d come to Atlanta. Though his wares were good, they were beneath the quality most fashionable young ladies would consider. “I’m sure there are other merchants who would be more than happy to accommodate you.”

  “Is something wrong with Mr. Shonkwiler’s material? He came highly recommended.”

  “No, he’s very good but …,” Matt spurted.

  Dania didn’t give him an opportunity to finish. “His shop is open this morning, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but …” He was confused. Why would someone of Dania’s social status seek out a second-rate vendor? Was the Eison mill not as profitable as Evers thought? Or was it that Dania wasn’t aware where the fashionable ladies shopped? “If you’re having a new wardrobe made, you might find the shops along Peachtree more to your taste.”

  “A new wardrobe?” A smile played along her lips. “No, I wanted to go to him because his establishment is located next to the boot maker.”

  The woman was talking in riddles. “And you want a new pair of boots?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She grimaced. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Maybe if you tell me what you’re hoping to achieve with your visit.”

  She bit her lip as if she were considering the idea. “I’d hoped it would remain a secret.”

  Gracious! Withholding a secret from him was like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull! Surely he could get her to share it. Maybe he could rattle it out of her. Matt stepped closer until the folds of her skirts touched his pant legs. “I promise not to tell.”

  “I have my reasons, Mr. Langley.” Her gentle response belied the merriment in her eyes. “If you feel you can’t escort me to Mr. Shonkwiler’s, then I can find my own way there.”