The American Heiress Brides Collection

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

  “You know about mythology?”

  She gave him a look over her toast. “I’m not uneducated or stupid, Jack. I’ve simply never had the opportunity to learn the particular skills my aunt sets so much store by.”

  He was quick to respond. “Of course.” Though he still looked chagrined as if she had caught him out.

  She relented and changed the subject. “Perhaps you can tell me why Mrs. Carver doesn’t like my dresses, especially the dress I wore to meet her?”

  Once again color bloomed in his features, bleeding into his cheeks. His gaze darted around the room like he had been cornered.

  “Have I said something wrong?”

  “It’s um—it’s—I wouldn’t generally presume to comment on a lady’s appearance or costume.”

  “But if I don’t ask, and you never tell me, how am I going to know?”

  Gazing haplessly at the newspaper still lying neatly folded on the table, he spoke. “I don’t think it was the dress itself, although it is rather bright for an unmarried young lady. It was the fact that it wasn’t the right kind of dress for the time and place. It’s a ball gown, and you weren’t at a ball.”

  “She thought it was too fancy?”

  “Yes. And too revealing for a train platform.”

  “What does that matter? If I’d reveal that much of myself at a ball, why not at a train platform?”

  “It’s just not done that way.”

  “It’s all pretty arbitrary, isn’t it?”

  “In a way.”

  “No wonder I can’t make head nor tails of what she wants.” She sighed. “So what should I have worn?”

  “Again, I’m no expert on ladies’ costumes, but an afternoon dress of good-quality fabric. Three-quarter-length sleeves are acceptable in summer if it’s hot. The neckline shouldn’t reach below the base of the throat.”

  “That doesn’t sound very festive.” She shrugged. “Do you think the counter girls at City of Paris will know what I’m after?”

  Undisguised relief crossed his features. “Better than I would.”

  “All right. I’ll take Lottie with me. We’ll both get an education. I can see I have a lot to learn.” She could tell he had been worried that he would offend her, and she tried to reassure him. “I’m glad to have you for a teacher.”

  “Keep referring to me like that and I’ll have to figure out how to be professorial.”

  “I think my aunt believes I’ve slighted her, by not driving her around and introducing her to folks, but I don’t know many people she’d think ‘worth knowing.’ How can I make it up to her?”

  He considered, pursing his lips together. “You could host a small dinner party.”

  “A dinner party.” She bounced to her feet. “Perfect.”

  Anne nudged the end of one gleaming silver fork then stood back and raised her book. She glanced from it to the table and back again. “I think I’ve done it just as the book says.”

  Jack nodded. He would never have guessed that coming west would see him spending more time on the minutiae of etiquette and dinner parties. But he had to admit, Anne had been an enthusiastic student. In fact, teaching her had been somewhat humbling. She was quick enough that he was sometimes left scrambling.

  Now they surveyed the long dinner table together and he had to admit, she had made amazing progress in just a couple of weeks. The silver gleamed and was laid properly. The china glowed as if it were made of pearls. Crystal stemware sparkled. Fresh flowers dotted the table, not so high that they would impede conversation, but enough that they added interest and freshness to the table.

  “And this dress is all right?”

  The dress in question was a confection of soft blue with a froth of gold lace in a standing collar and at the edge of three-quarter-length sleeves. The skirt was narrow but blossomed into an elaborate bustle at the back. “It’s just right.”

  She rubbed her hands together in glee. “It’s been a day and a half since Mrs. Carver has said anything to me about being too loud or boisterous. She still sniffs at the house, but she’s even softened on that subject since she’s ordered curtains she likes better.” She stepped closer to him in a conspiratorial move. “I think the hot water taps and radiant heat may have softened her up, too. I know they sold me on buying this house when I first saw it.”

  “I never had any doubt you would win her over.”

  She breathed out a little exhalation of pent-up breath. “Growing up, I always imagined what it would be like to be cultured and refined. That’s why I moved to San Francisco. I don’t know that I ever would have found my way if it wasn’t for you, Jack.” She reached out and gave his hand a little squeeze.

  Her fingers were warm inside silk gloves, and Jack squeezed back before she pulled away. “I think I hear guests arriving.” Her voice was higher pitched than normal. She darted toward the door, then, as if someone had yanked her back, stopped at the doorway, straightened her spine, and glided, sedately, into the hall.

  Jack followed more slowly. He had never met a woman so candid. There was simply no pretense about Anne. You always knew where you stood with her, and he found that very … likable. As likable as her blue-gray eyes that could flash with humor or spark with anger, and that flyaway auburn hair that seemed to cry out to be caressed.

  Most of the invitations Anne had peppered the neighborhood with had been declined. Something she told him she’d expected since she’d never met most of the recipients. Being a single, rather eccentric, young lady living alone, he could just imagine what they thought and how they had responded to her presence in their midst. In spite of all that she had managed to entice six couples to the dinner party. Cynically, Jack was fairly certain that they had accepted more out of curiosity than anything else, but at least they had accepted. He only hoped that Mrs. Carver appreciated all the effort to which her niece had gone.

  Most of Anne’s nervousness had faded. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but particularly, Mrs. Carver was animated and engaged in discussion. Anne had never heard her speak at such length or so genially. It was like she had finally found a place in which she could be comfortable.

  Bao Chang came in carrying an enormous almond charlotte piled high with whipped cream and berries. There were gasps of delight and oohs from the guests. He was followed by a couple of footmen to do the actual serving while he supervised, just as had been done with every course and as was customarily the job of a butler.

  Mrs. Miller, a wiry woman with a fringe of dishwater-colored hair hanging limply against her forehead, spoke from the middle of the table. “I don’t know how your white servants bear it.”

  The smile shriveled on Anne’s lips. “Excuse me?”

  The other conversations around the table trailed away.

  Mrs. Miller waved a hand at Bao Chang, who was carefully slicing the dessert and placing it on plates for service. “I can’t imagine putting a Chinese in charge of anything. We have a few as houseboys of course, but most of them are stupid and lazy.”

  “Madam, Mr. Chang is in the room.” Anne was rather proud of how even her voice was. She glanced at Bao Chang’s back, but he made no change in his posture. He simply kept apportioning the dessert.

  “It’s all right.” Mrs. Miller waved a hand. “He’s only Chinese.”

  Her husband intervened. “Now, dear, it’s not polite to criticize the running of a host’s household.”

  “I wouldn’t say a word normally, but Miss Shepherd is so young, and new to the city. I feel it’s my duty to help her understand how things are done in San Francisco. It will save her a lot of heartache in the end.”

  Anne stood hastily, her napkin balled up in her fist. “Bao Chang has been a second father to me from the time I was a young girl. He is classically educated and speaks four languages. Aside from that, he is kind and wise and the farthest thing from lazy that could be imagined. By rights, he should be my business partner, but while he owns shares in my mine, he refused to accept an equal share beca
use he didn’t think it was appropriate. In fact, I invited him to this dinner this evening so that my aunt could understand his merits, and he declined in order to wait on you all.”

  One of the other women, Mrs. Hopkins, spoke in a stage whisper. “At least someone has a sense of the proper order of things.”

  There were titters among the guests. Anne looked from face to face. Her aunt’s face was red and she was staring fixedly ahead, wearing a sickly smile.

  “That’s it.” Anne’s cheeks burned. She flung down her napkin.

  Jack stood hastily. “Miss Shepherd, you don’t look well. Perhaps you’d like to rest?”

  “Yes, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone to leave.”

  The faces around the table reflected stunned indignation.

  Bao Chang’s demeanor when he turned around was impassive. “I will fetch your wraps and hats.” It was only because she knew him so well that Anne was able to spot the smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

  Seething, Anne swept from the room, head high, and left them to sort themselves out. If these were the people with whom her aunt wished to consort, she was welcome to them.

  Jack half expected that Anne would call off the day’s tutorial after the dinner party debacle. But she was waiting for him the next morning, looking grimly determined. He swept right into the lesson, without trying to rehash the previous evening’s events.

  “No, don’t bend forward. You should keep your back straight.” He demonstrated a curtsy again. He ought to have felt like a prize chump as he did so, but with Anne he never felt that way, even though by now he was having to think hard to dredge up every memory he could in order to determine what was proper in the random scenarios she regularly flung his way. They had covered everything from table etiquette to conduct in the street and letter writing. All the rigid rules he had wanted to escape when he jumped at the chance to escort Mrs. Carver to San Francisco.

  Despite all that, he’d come to find himself enjoying their lesson time. It was what had caused him to linger in the city far longer than he had planned.

  “Is this better?”

  “Very good.”

  Her grin was infectious, and Jack couldn’t help but join in. He took her hand and bowed, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss. “One final lesson. Now that my leg is finally healed, you need to know how to dance.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, I know how to dance. I can do a jig with the best of them.” She caught his eye and sighed. “You’re talking about some fancy dance, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question so much as a statement of wonder that society could even rein in and restrain something as fundamentally free and natural as dancing.

  He smiled. “I’m going to teach you a waltz. They are played at every ball, and it’s a hard dance to fake. We stand like this.” He took her hand and positioned it on his shoulder, then took her other hand in his while placing his own lightly at her waist.

  She pulled away, one eyebrow raised. “This is a dance? A proper dance?”

  “Promise.”

  “I had to check. I’ve known too many fellas who’ll use any excuse to try to steal a kiss.” She allowed him to reposition her, and he tried to concentrate on explaining the steps and rhythm of the dance, but it was apparent that she wasn’t wearing a stiff, whaleboned corset beneath her dress. Instead, he could feel the soft warmth of her waist. His throat felt dry as the desert he had traveled through when crossing the country, and he swallowed hard.

  He began to hum “The Blue Danube” and swept her into the steps of the waltz, trying not to focus on the supple movement of her body as she allowed him to lead her through the swirling steps. She laughed, and they both grew a little breathless as they spun round and round the room together.

  He came to a stop but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from hers for a long moment. The spark of laughter in her eyes grew into something softer and yet more intense.

  From the hall came the uncompromising staccato clack of swift heels on the marble tile.

  Jack stepped back and cleared his throat. “Um, if you were in a ball gown, you would have a loop sewn in the skirt that you could hook over your wrist to hold it out of the way.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Yes.” He’d never before grown breathless after he’d stopped dancing.

  “Yes.” It was almost a whisper.

  The parlor door was thrust open and Mrs. Carver barreled in. Even having heard her steps in the hall, Jack started at the sudden intrusion.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Carver.” Anne executed a perfect curtsy.

  Her aunt stopped and pulled her head back a little as if trying to get a better view of this phenomenon. “Mm.”

  The sound, at least, was disapproving.

  “I went to make amends with your—our neighbors this afternoon.” Mrs. Carver settled herself in the most comfortable chair and reached for the bell cord. “They are the first persons of refinement I’ve met in this … outpost. We are lucky that they were gracious and understanding when I explained the shortcomings of your upbringing. The Hopkins are going to hold a ball and have promised an invitation. Between now and then, Anne, you and I will have a great deal of work to do. We need to make you presentable to society.”

  Jack knew Anne well enough by now that he could see the telltale sign of her biting the inside of her lip to keep from saying something as Mrs. Carver outlined a rigorous course of study for her niece in social niceties. The older woman patted Anne’s arm. “With the exception of last night’s deplorable display, I think my presence is already having a beneficial effect, my dear. I’ve noticed an improvement in your deportment in the last few days.”

  Bao Chang appeared with a tray of refreshments, and Mrs. Carver snapped her mouth shut then managed the usual sickly smile she exhibited whenever she saw the butler. “Oh, good. I’m parched.”

  Chang elected to set the tray down on the table nearest Anne before he left the room again. As he did so, Jack thought he caught the faintest whiff of a smile on the Chinese man’s face as he glanced at her. And she responded with a demure smile of her own. Jack glanced between the two of them again, and his eyebrows shot up. Anne hadn’t been exaggerating. They were more than employer and servant. They were friends.

  Chapter 3

  As I was saying,” Mrs. Carver continued.

  Anne picked up the teapot and, keeping all that Jack had taught her firmly in mind, she poured a cup of tea for Mrs. Carver as she knew she liked it.

  Her aunt kept talking though Anne had only half an ear trained on what she was saying, too intent on making sure she poured well. “Mrs. Hopkins was very clear that no one of any standing would hire a Chinese butler. It’s just not done. They are fine for the railroads or even as a houseboy. But it isn’t appropriate to put a Chinese in charge of whites. And don’t even get me started on cooks. Only a European cook truly understands fine cuisine.”

  At last the tenor of Mrs. Carver’s monologue invaded Anne’s consciousness. She looked up, frowning.

  “Again, I’m sure a Chinese would be fine as an assist—”

  “I’m not getting rid of Bao Chang and Mei Lin.” Anne stared hard at her aunt.

  “My dear, I’m sure they’ve done their best, but—watch!”

  Anne’s hand jerked at the outburst. The cup overflowed and tipped over, drenching the tray and her skirt with steaming, hot tea. She jumped to her feet and began dabbing at the mess, wishing she still carried a real handkerchief, rather than the miniscule lace scrap she had been assured was more ladylike.

  “Oh dear, and you were doing so well until then.” Mrs. Carver sighed. “Now, I think the issue is that you simply haven’t been exposed to the quality of service you could expect from a better class of servant. You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

  “Mrs. Carver.” Anne’s voice was even sharper than she had intended. Bao Chang appeared again with an expression of polite inquiry on his face, and she realized that Jack mu
st have pulled the cord for him. At the sight of her, the butler instantly produced a towel seemingly from nowhere. He whisked the sopping tray away without spilling a single drop.

  Anne dabbed at her dress, too agitated to sit again even though she knew that Jack was forced to stand because she was on her feet. She made an effort to control her voice. “Mrs. Carver, I will not send Bao Chang and Mei Lin away.”

  “My dear, you don’t understand. It’s simply not done.” This was said with the air of a pronouncement from on high.

  “It is done. By. Me.”

  “You will never advance your social position if you cannot—”

  Anne flung her hands wide. “I don’t want to advance my social position if it means firing my friends. Bao Chang worked the mine with me. He helped keep me safe in the bad days. And it is by his wise advice that I have the fortune I have today.”

  Mrs. Carver’s eyes were wide in astonishment.

  “Because of the ridiculous nature of the current laws, we were able to bring Mei Lin to him only with the greatest difficulty. She is the gentlest, kindest creature you’ve ever met. You would have me bring her from China with the promise of a life in the United States and then kick her out on the street because I now deem her inconvenient?”

  “A reference—”

  Anne leaned over the older woman. “But as you said, no one will give a Chinese a decent place.” She stepped back and carefully resumed her seat, scrubbing futilely at the tea stains on her skirt.

  “Well.” Her aunt’s lips were tightly pursed. “I can see you feel strongly about them, so I’ll say no more on the subject.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I do feel it incumbent upon me to bring another situation to your attention.” Anne stilled.

  “Your maid, Lois—”

  “Lottie.”

  “Lottie. I’m afraid that her reputation is far from spotless. There are rumors that she was something known as a ‘pretty waitress girl.’” She said the words as if they were curdling on her tongue. “She worked at a dance hall down in some terrible district called the Barbary Coast. I am assured that the women who work at these places are of the lowest imaginable character.”