by Maureen Lang
It was the last thing he wanted, never to see Meggie again, but he knew even as he heard his own words this was precisely the right thing to do. For her own sake. If Brewster believed Meg could be of use to him, there would be no stopping him.
“Kidnapping is illegal,” Meg said in such a merry tone of voice that his eyes ricocheted back to her. Then she offered an embellished frown and a tsk. “But I don’t suppose that would deter you, would it?”
She was laughing at him! Thought him joking! Ian had half a mind to wrap her in a burlap sack and take her out of the country himself, to some undisclosed location where she would never find her way back to New York.
Except he had a job waiting to be carried out. . . .
Ian glared at her. Never in his life had he expected little Meggie to be so much trouble.
Meg almost felt sorry for Ian, seeing his genuine dismay over her decision to pursue the way of life that was so obviously her only choice. She hadn’t expected him to resist so vehemently; after all, she was only validating his own choices by offering to join his ranks. What could he find wrong in that?
She was sure she could change his mind, but a rap at the door stopped any further attempt. The sound of the knock had barely drifted away before the door opened and Mr. Brewster stepped over the threshold of the library.
“I came to see if I might be of some assistance.” He held a cigar so naturally in one hand that it seemed almost an extension of the appendage. He approached Meg. “I’m sure Ian—and Kate—have tried talking you out of joining forces with us. I came to add my own advice, since I knew your father at least as well as either of these two.”
“We don’t need your advice, Brewster,” Ian said. “Meg has decided to withdraw her offer to you.”
“Of course that’s best.” He laughed and took a puff from his cigar. “Did you think I would say anything else?”
Kate stepped forward, and Meg noticed the woman hadn’t stopped wringing her hands since she’d followed them into the room. “So you don’t want Meg to learn anything about the Pemberton gold bricks?”
The astonishment in Kate’s question matched Meg’s disappointment. Could she find no one who would allow her to do as she pleased?
“I came with another offer entirely.” Brewster fished in an inner pocket, withdrawing a small card from his vest. “Have you heard of the St. Denis Hotel, on Broadway and Eleventh? I happen to reside there, at least most of the time, and the assistant to the manager is a very good friend of mine. If you need a place to stay—quite a nice place, I might add, fit for no less than presidents of this great nation—all you need do is ask for Mr. Marshall and show him this. He’ll make sure you’re well taken care of and have every expense forwarded to me.”
Meg reached for the card, not because she intended to take such charity, but because he was kind enough to make the offer.
But Ian stood between Brewster’s outstretched arm and Meg’s open hand before the transfer could be made. “That won’t be necessary, Brewster. Meg already has other, more viable options.”
Brewster leaned around Ian to give Meg a wink similar to the one he’d aimed at her earlier. He replaced the card in his pocket. “My, my, you have quite the protector in this young man. Only I have no idea what he thinks he’s protecting you from. I was your father’s partner before Ian ever came along. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
Meg had no reason to disbelieve him, yet it was obvious both Kate and Ian were wary of the man—making her wary as well.
“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Brewster. I’ll keep it in mind as I decide what to do.”
“Whatever you decide, Miss Davenport, I hope you’ll allow me to keep in touch. I want you to know I’m at your disposal for whatever needs you might have. In honor of your father.”
He bowed slightly and, with another puff of the cigar, walked from the room, leaving behind only a pale cloud of smoke.
With him went whatever energy Meg had for arguing. She knew what she must do and had no intention of letting Ian or Kate deter her.
She looked at Kate. “I’d like to stay with you in the city, at least for a couple of days.”
The concern on Kate’s face did not lessen. “Until you’re welcomed by the Pembertons?”
Meg knew any honest answer was the last thing either of them wanted to hear, so she refused to reply. “May I stay with you? Or not?”
Kate neared her, taking her hands. “Of course you may.” Then, over Meg’s shoulder, she said to Ian, “As I see it, I’ll have these few days to stir up some sense in her.”
“I haven’t seen evidence she has any.”
Meg would have laughed away the insult, except she knew Ian believed his pronouncement.
She would have to prove him wrong.
12
A young lady properly raised and tutored should not be ambitious. She should accept where her Creator has placed her. However, if her circumstances are altered due to a family relocation, increased fortune, or marriage plans, such changes in life must be thoroughly explored and planned, then carefully and cautiously executed.
Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies
The Hibbit sisters fussed and cried, expressing how worried they’d been over Meg’s absence these past few days. They barely spared a glance at Kate until Beatrice’s tears had been brushed aside and Hazel’s pleasure to see Meg was replaced by her familiarly stern face—sternness familiar at least since she’d taken over as matron.
Meg had made the proper introductions, but once they learned she intended to take up residence with Kate, they eyed the woman with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
Keeping her explanations vague, Meg told them about her father’s funeral, about Kate’s engagement to him, about her plan to stay with Kate, at least for the foreseeable future. When the sisters protested over such a sudden departure, Meg reminded them she’d have been leaving the school in the fall anyway—if not for marriage, then for college or finishing school before returning for a staff position at Madame Marisse’s. And that this place, after all, was a school and not a home.
It hurt them to hear Madame Marisse’s called less than a home; she saw that on their faces. What else had this school ever been to her, all these years, if not a home? But there was no alternative. She had to inflict such pain if she was to sever her association with them—for their own good.
They abruptly eased their inquisition, offering a tense farewell, and the tears in their eyes were of a different sort altogether than when they’d greeted Meg with such welcome relief.
A moment after Ian’s knock, one of the two maids Kate employed opened the door, smiling a friendly greeting and revealing small, off-white teeth that had gaps between each and every one. She had a mole beside her left eyebrow that he recalled pulled upward whenever her brows moved. But he could not, despite some effort, remember her name. Alvira? Anna?
“Miss Kane ain’t . . . that is, she isn’t here at the moment, sir.”
Although he’d met this maid before, she was relatively new and no doubt another young rescue project Kate had brought home since “awakening from her sinner’s slumber,” as she’d once put it. The kind of slumber Ian had been enjoying ever since he stepped foot on American soil.
“Yes, I expected her not to be at home yet. She told you, didn’t she, that she is bringing a guest? John’s daughter, Meg Davenport. I’ve come to wait for them.”
“Oh, sure, she sent a message telling us to dust one of the spare rooms. Do you want anything while you wait for ’em?”
Ian looked around the cramped parlor, half of the items knickknacks John had purchased for Kate, and the other half just as unnecessary. But that was Kate, always cluttering up a room to show off the money she didn’t have growing up.
“No,” he told the maid, “don’t go to the trouble. I wanted to go through John’s belongings, to spare Kate from doing it.”
“I . . . I guess that’d be fine, Mr. Maguire. So long as you run by Miss Kane
anything you might take or get rid of.”
Ian found his way to the hallway that led to the three bedchambers, knowing each had its own unprecedented private bath closet.
Kate’s apartment house had been her idea. She’d once owned what even he had recognized as a stunning town house; the rent alone could have fetched twenty-five hundred a year. She’d brought it to John as spoils of her lifestyle prior to knowing him, no doubt an indulgence from some old sot who’d died and bequeathed it to her rather than to his own children. Ian didn’t really know. But she’d sold the town house for a hefty sum and had this three-story house built with her profits, complete with six apartments, two per floor. French flats, she called them, to attract a reputable clientele and further distinguish her building from even the best boardinghouses or tenements.
The building was situated on the very edge of the respectable part of Manhattan, far enough from the old, worn downtown but not close enough to the higher-scale, expensive uptown in which she would never fit no matter how much money she earned.
He opened the wardrobe to all of John’s clothing, instantly besieged by a wave of grief. Maybe it was too soon to do this. Surely Kate wouldn’t care how long John’s clothing hung here.
But he hadn’t just needed an excuse to be here when they returned; he was looking for something important to him.
No sooner had Ian found what he’d been looking for than he heard voices from the parlor. He entered the room at the same time the maid arrived from another direction to greet Kate and Meg at her side. Behind them was a man laden with a suitcase and two hatboxes, no doubt full of Meg’s possessions.
“Ada,” Kate said to the maid, “please show this man where to take our guest’s belongings, won’t you? Another man will be up any moment with the rest.”
As she spoke, Kate looked at Ian. Pulling off her gloves, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not surprised to see you, but I expected you tomorrow. We’ve already eaten.”
“I came only to help clear away some of John’s things. And to look for something in particular.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “You needn’t trouble yourself about that. I’ll see to it.” She glanced Meg’s way. “Meg can help. It’ll be good for us.”
Eyeing Meg, who hadn’t stopped looking at him since she’d entered, he extended a smile as he let the chain linking fob to watch dangle between his fingers. “That’s fine. I have just one request, which I’ll make to you, Meg, as John’s only legal heir.” He opened his palm to reveal the watch he’d just found. “This was your father’s, and I’d like to have it as a remembrance of him. If it’s all right with you, of course.”
Meg did little more than glance at the watch before giving him a smile that, to his own consternation, created a stir in his heart. “That would be quite all right, as long as Kate doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all. But Meg has a bit of unpacking to do now,” Kate said stiffly. He had to admit they were uncomfortable partners, he and Kate, but like it or not, they had the same goal for the time being.
“Perhaps you ought not unpack everything, Meg. You might find you want to return to school, after all.”
“That is exactly what I’ve been telling her,” Kate said.
Meg turned to face them, her arms folded in defense. “I completely agree about not entirely unpacking. I’ll be sure to leave folded what I intend taking with me to the Pembertons’, once they extend their invitation to me for the summer.”
Ian shot a startled look at Kate. She’d let Meg send that note? There was no possibility of dissuading her?
Kate lifted a helpless palm. “She hornswoggled me! Left some kind of hint with the two schoolmarms that I might join their attempts to keep her at school if I only knew about the school’s charm. They nearly kidnapped me to show the school’s highlights, while she pretended to pack. Only she wrote the note instead. I didn’t know she’d left it in the school’s post until after we’d left.”
Ian’s gaze returned to Meg. This task might be more of a challenge than he’d expected, but he had no intention of giving up. It made staying in the city all the more important, even though his other demands would keep him busy.
More boxes and a small crate arrived just then, and Kate followed the path the maid and the first luggage-laden man had taken—leaving Ian alone with Meg. Just the opportunity he’d hoped to gain.
“I’m glad we have a moment, Meggie—Meg,” he amended, wishing again that John’s old, affectionate name for her wasn’t indelibly burned into his consciousness. “I came to discuss something with you.”
Her gaze met his, and he was sure he saw more than a bit of interest there. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult after all, even though what he was about to propose probably wasn’t what she expected.
“As your father’s closest friend—”
“Something Mr. Brewster claims to be as well.”
Ian reminded himself not to be troubled that she’d interrupted him. Now that she knew he didn’t like such a thing, she might employ the habit more often. It’s what he would have done himself.
“Be that as it may,” he continued, “I was—without a doubt—your father’s closest confidant when it came to you. I realized after you left with Kate this morning that I haven’t fulfilled the role your father left to me. I’ve failed to consider what you must be feeling, having lost your father.”
He lifted a hand before she could speak. “I know your relationship lacked . . . time spent together . . . but it occurred to me that you might worry because your father was your only provider. I was too caught in my own grief to see how uncertain your future must seem without him. I apologize for not seeing your side of things.”
She studied him as if trying to determine the level of his sincerity, but he knew she wouldn’t find him lacking there.
Still, she might need more convincing. “Your father asked me to look after you if anything ever happened to him. So as your guardian—”
A flash in her eyes cut him short before her words did. “Guardian! You’re barely older than I am, and if you think you have any authority over me, you’d better reconsider so ridiculous a thought.”
“It isn’t ridiculous at all, not if that’s what your father wanted.”
“There can be absolutely no legal grounds for you to assume such a role—”
“Can’t I leave you together for two minutes without it ending in a squabble?” Kate waved them to hush as she bustled to the center of the room, stepping between them. “I won’t have voices raised, not here in my own home where my neighbors might hear every word.”
Ian sent a scowl Kate’s way, even though the exasperation wasn’t entirely her fault. He was sure if he’d been left alone with Meg a bit longer he could have convinced her. Now that Kate was here, he would have to recruit her help.
He breathed in deeply, unused to having his patience so tested. “Meg misunderstood, but it was partially my fault for misspeaking. I meant only that Meg must realize her future isn’t as uncertain as it feels right now. If she won’t go back to the school, and she won’t seriously consider marriage, then the only option is for me to hire a chaperone—pardon me, Kate, but one with an unsullied background—and set her up in a place of her own for the summer. Until—” now he eyed Meg with as fierce a look as he could muster—“the finishing school of your choice welcomes you into its halls this autumn.”
The smile she sent his way held not a hint of gratitude—or compliance. “So I’m to be a kept woman this summer, instead of accepting the gracious invitation of one of my old schoolmates? How is that preferable, at least as far as polite society goes?”
“Kept woman!” He was shocked she’d ever heard such a term. “I only agreed to pay your rent, not anything else.”
“Even a casual investigation into such a situation would be embarrassing at best, a scandal at worst.”
To his chagrin, Kate was nodding now. “Since I’ve had a little time to think about the situation, Ian, it might be bes
t if she does go to the Pembertons’ after all, if such an invitation arrives as easily as she expects.”
His jaw went slack. “What? You can’t possibly want her to feed Brewster—or even me—the information she’s offering to acquire.”
“Of course not. Listen to me—we’re partially to blame for allowing Brewster anywhere near her, and it’s our job to protect her. At least at the Pembertons’ she won’t be within Brewster’s easy reach. Beside that, as you said, she hasn’t the stomach for her father’s way of life. Perhaps she needs to learn that for herself.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Meg take on a now-familiar stance. “Please stop discussing this as if I’m not in the room. And stop doubting my capabilities.” She turned to fully face Ian, with a change in her expression. Instead of anger, her face reflected something more along the lines of an entreaty. “If the Pemberton gold is as desirable as Pubjug and Mr. Brewster seemed to think, then why won’t you accept my help?”
Ian’s mind was racing ahead. If there were any way to succeed at getting even a portion of the Pemberton gold—without endangering Meg—he would readily agree. It was, after all, the Pemberton gold! But what could he do? Use John’s daughter, risk her future? Kate was right. Believing herself capable of doing something and following through with it were two different things altogether. He nearly patted Meg’s head just then, he felt so much wiser than her. “All right, Meg. You go to the Pembertons’ for the summer. But if by the fall you haven’t learned anything of any interest, you’ll agree to go to the finishing school.”
She offered a slow blink. “I’ll consider it.”
If that was the best he could do, Ian was prepared to accept it. He had the summer to make her see reason.
13
It is no less than the poorest measurement of a young lady’s moral, intellectual, and spiritual strength should she allow herself to be kissed before standing at the altar.