Caught by Surprise

by Jen Turano

  “Kiss her,” Permilia and Gertrude called together.

  “I suppose that couldn’t hurt.” He turned, strode down the aisle, and headed out the door.

  Stopping for a second when he reached the sidewalk, he looked to the left, finding only two gentlemen walking toward him with another gentleman walking behind them. Turning to the right, he smiled when he saw Temperance’s black hat bobbing rapidly away.

  Gilbert broke into a run, passed a Pinkerton man who’d already begun to follow her, and almost caught up with Temperance until she significantly increased her pace, lending credence to Mrs. Davenport’s observation regarding how fast Temperance could move.

  “You’re going to end up fainting again if you keep this up,” he managed to yell, ignoring the fact that he sounded somewhat winded.

  She put more distance between them.

  “That corset you’re wearing wasn’t meant to allow strenuous activities” was all he could think to yell next.

  She stopped and spun around so quickly that he was forced to dodge to the right to avoid plowing into her.

  “What do you know about corsets?”

  Dragging in a much-needed breath of air, and amazed that Temperance was barely out of breath, he summoned up a smile, one that did absolutely nothing to dispel the temper in her eyes. “Asher’s one of my best friends and owns an entire department store. He’s incredibly knowledgeable with matters pertaining to unmentionables, and we gentlemen do occasionally drift into talk about all those mysterious feminine garments.”

  “You, Asher, and I presume, Harrison, sit around talking about unmentionables?”

  He nodded. “We also talk about romantic gestures.”

  “You’ve apparently not picked up many pointers about those.”

  “Apparently not, but you know me, Temperance. You know I’m lacking when it comes to matters of the emotional sort. That right there is what has me confused about why you’re so irritated with me for stumbling earlier.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “If I had any idea why you were stumbling about, perhaps I wouldn’t be so irritated. As it stands now, all I know is that you apparently have no interest in me becoming Lady Strafford, which does seem to suggest, since you’re Lord Strafford, that you’ve decided I’ve been right all this time and that we would not suit.”

  “If you’re so certain we won’t suit, why are you so put out about me not wanting you to become Lady Strafford?”

  “So you don’t want me to become Lady Strafford, do you?”

  “Only because I’ve taken steps to investigate how I can go about abdicating my title and repudiating my inheritance. But since I’ve yet to receive a reply to the transatlantic telegram cable my attorney and I sent off the other day, I was hesitant to broach the subject until I had real news to report. However, I have great hopes my late brother’s attorney will be able to sort matters out to my satisfaction. And if that comes to pass, I’ll no longer be Lord Strafford, which means you’ll no longer have to worry about becoming a countess because that won’t be an issue.”

  Temperance simply stared at him for the longest of seconds until she cleared her throat, a hint of a smile lifting her lips the tiniest touch. “I imagine you weren’t intending on telling me that in quite such a thunderous tone of voice, were you, and . . . with a touch of temper in it, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Gilbert raked a hand through his hair as his lips began to curve. “In all honesty, I was intending on telling you everything during a lovely fall picnic I was planning to take you on, one that would have included a lovely round of target practice where you’d be practicing with your very own gun.”

  “You bought me a pistol?”

  “Well, no, not yet. That’s on my list of things I was supposed to do tomorrow, along with finalizing plans to buy a puppy and finding someone to make a dragon costume.”

  Temperance blinked. “You were going to dress up as a dragon, present me with my very own pistol and a puppy, and then disclose that you were trying to abdicate your title as Earl of Strafford.”

  “I wasn’t going to dress up as a dragon. I wanted to dress the puppy up as a dragon.”

  “Should I ask why?”

  “I’m sure the reason why is certain to sound somewhat ridiculous.” He took one step closer to her. “You see, Harrison pointed out to me that you were a whimsical sort who apparently would think fondly of puppies and dragons, or more specifically, fey creatures as I do believe I brought up not that long ago. I’m afraid I never got around to explaining why I was bringing up such a curious topic.”

  “I thought you were suffering from a blow to your head.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I know. However, the romantic gestures Asher and Harrison used to impress Permilia and Gertrude were so outlandish they made those two fine gentlemen seem as if they’d lost their minds too. But because matters worked out well for them in the end, and they secured the ladies they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with, I thought it couldn’t hurt to give a go at my own version of a romantic gesture.”

  “And that’s why you brought up fey creatures, puppies, and target practice while we were at the beach?”

  “I thought for certain I was on to something with the target practice, but then, well, I got distracted when Mr. Howland showed up, and . . . I never got to complete a single romantic gesture.” He caught her eye. “I’m beginning to think romantic gestures, or any type of romance, are not going to be my strong suit.”

  Temperance moved a little closer to him. “I’m afraid I must disagree with that assessment. Trying to make arrangements to provide me with a puppy—if I’m following what you intended to do—and then dressing that puppy up as a dragon—although I’m still not certain why you and Harrison decided I’m a dragon type of lady—is a spectacular gesture, and one I certainly think qualifies as romantic.”

  “You’re a dragon type because you had a castle your father’s butler built you when you were a child. And while this explanation is only coming to me now, I’m sure when you played in that castle, besides having me rescue you all the time, you occasionally dreamed a dragon would show up.”

  “I suppose I did, which definitely makes your puppy dressed as a dragon a romantic gesture of impressive proportions.”

  Gilbert inclined his head. “Thank you, although I do want to point out that I did announce to you that I’m trying to give up an earldom, along with several real castles, a London townhome, and a country estate in Wales. It’s curious, don’t you think, that you would consider the puppy dressed as a dragon as a romantic gesture of impressive proportions over my decision to abdicate my title and my attempt to relinquish my late brother’s estates to some relative I’m not sure actually exists just yet.”

  Temperance moved another few inches toward him. “Giving up your title, as well as your inheritance, is far too grand to be considered a romantic gesture. It’s more on the lines of professing a deep and abiding—”

  Before Temperance could finish, a man suddenly stepped directly up to them, standing far too close for comfort. As Gilbert instinctively reached for his pistol, his hand stilled when the man surprised him by presenting him with a bow.

  “I’m delighted to hear you say that, Gilbert, because that proves to me without a shadow of a doubt that you are not the person responsible for trying to murder me.”

  Feeling quite as if he’d entered the pages of a mystery novel, Gilbert squinted and settled his attention on the man who’d just spoken in a clipped British accent—a gentleman who was supposed to be quite dead. His brother, Charles—the true Earl of Strafford.

  Chapter

  Thirty

  As Gilbert and the gentleman who’d just joined them stood in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other, Temperance cleared her throat, but was stopped from speaking when they were suddenly surrounded by Pinkerton agents.

  “Is there a problem here?” a burly agent with his cap tipped back on his head asked, his hand on the butt of a pistol
that was visible beneath his open jacket.

  “I’m not a problem,” the man drawled with a lift of a chin that looked remarkably like Gilbert’s. “I’m his brother, the Earl of Strafford, so step back, if you please.”

  “What about those two men?” the agent asked, not moving an inch as he nodded to two other men who were standing behind Gilbert’s brother, a man who apparently wasn’t as dead as expected.

  “That’s Lord Grantley and Lord Abinger, and I’ll thank you to stop looking us over as if we’re common criminals,” Lord Strafford said before he dismissed the Pinkerton man with a flick of a wrist and returned his attention to Gilbert. “I imagine you’re surprised to see me.”

  “A bit,” Gilbert admitted. “Although since we’ve just encountered two people who were also presumed dead but are very much alive, I’m not as surprised as one would expect given the unusual day I’m having so far.”

  “Who else came back from the dead?” Lord Strafford asked.

  Gilbert nodded to Temperance. “Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Flowerdew, were presumed murdered by savages down in South America three years ago. I’m happy to report that was not the case since they recently showed up, during their memorial service no less, and turned that service into a more joyous occasion.”

  “Flowerdew, Flowerdew,” Lord Strafford said, tapping a finger against his chin. “Why is that name so familiar?”

  “Temperance and I have been friends since infancy,” Gilbert said. “I’m sure I must have mentioned her during the few visits you and I enjoyed.”

  Lord Strafford eyed Temperance up and down, then nodded, quite as if he were bestowing his approval on her. “I do recall you mentioning Miss Flowerdew a time or two. However . . .” He stepped toward Temperance and presented her with a bow. “My brother has apparently misplaced his manners, a fault I’m sure he acquired through living in a less-than-civilized world all these years. Charles Cavendish, Earl of Strafford, at your service.”

  Temperance dipped into a curtsy she’d practiced for years while she attended finishing school, which earned a quirk of a brow from the earl in response. Straightening, she smiled, then shot Gilbert a look that had him moving forward.

  “This is Miss Temperance Flowerdew, Charles.”

  Inclining her head, Temperance smiled. “You must not find fault with Gilbert misplacing his manners, Lord Strafford. I fear the shock of finding you alive has most likely rendered him a little scattered. You are his brother, after all, and I imagine his emotions are going every which way at the moment, trying to reconcile with the idea you’re not dead.”

  “We Cavendish gentlemen are not prone to wearing our emotions on our sleeves,” Charles drawled. “Nor are we prone to experiencing emotions of the affectionate sort often.” He nodded to his brother. “I imagine you barely grieved my death.”

  Gilbert frowned. “That’s not true. I was very troubled when I heard the news you’d suffered a boating accident. And”—he continued even as Charles opened his mouth—“if you hadn’t interrupted my conversation with Temperance, you would have heard me tell her next that I was going to travel to England to pay my respects to you. You are my brother, albeit a half one, and I do hold you in high esteem.”

  “I always thought you loathed me and were envious that I inherited the title and all of Father’s estates.”

  “Which does explain how you concluded I wanted to see you murdered.”

  Before Charles could expand on why he’d thought that, Miss Henrietta suddenly moved into view, waving cheerfully in their direction, followed by everyone else.

  “Do tell us he kissed you, Temperance.”

  Mrs. Davenport waved next. “And that he gave you the ring I gave him to give you.”

  “Did he get down on one knee?” Clementine called.

  “On my word, that man beside Gilbert looks exactly like Charles Cavendish, my late husband’s son. What an uncanny resemblance,” Florence said as she began walking closer, stopping in her tracks a second later. “Good heavens, it is you, Charles, but . . . how extraordinary. It’s not every day one gets to witness three people return from the grave.”

  “That does seem to be the consensus,” Charles said before he presented Florence with a bow. “You’re looking well, Florence.”

  “As are you, Charles, quite a bit more alive than I was expecting, but let us not continue this discussion out on the sidewalk. Reverend Perry just gently reminded us that Grace Church does have a service shortly, so . . . shall we repair to Gilbert’s house?”

  Charles’s brows drew together as he glanced at the crowd now assembled only feet away from him. “I do not believe I’ll be comfortable disclosing the unfortunate events I’ve experienced of late with so many people listening.”

  “We’ll return to the school,” Miss Henrietta said before she sidled up to Temperance. “I’ll take your parents back there, get them settled in one of the few bedchambers we still have available, and”—she gave Temperance’s arm a squeeze—“I’ll start to fill them in on everything you’ve been up to since they’ve been gone. That will allow them time to adjust to the idea their darling girl ended up as a poor relation.”

  Even though Temperance was reluctant to be parted from her parents for any length of time, she realized Miss Henrietta made a most excellent point. Her parents were not going to enjoy hearing about the trials their daughter had suffered, but if she wasn’t there when they heard the gory details, they’d be better able to process everything.

  “Clementine,” Miss Henrietta continued, “has, surprisingly enough, decided she wants to disclose all the unpleasant details of your time with her family to your parents. I’m of the opinion we should let her.”

  Temperance raised a hand to her throat. “I have no idea what’s gotten into her. Divulging those unpleasant details will not endear her to my parents since her behavior toward me over the time I lived with her does not show her in a favorable light.”

  “But it’s a light she needs to accept if she’s ever going to reach the potential I know she’s capable of—becoming a decent lady, not an awful one.” With that, Miss Henrietta patted Temperance’s cheek and moved away, organizing everyone into carriages in no time at all.

  “Don’t forget the ring,” Mrs. Davenport called as her carriage bolted past, driven, concerningly enough, by a smiling Miss Henrietta. Mr. Barclay sat beside her with his eyes closed, obviously mouthing one of his silent prayers.

  Shaking her head at that somewhat amusing sight, she took the arm Gilbert was extending her and smiled. “It’s a very peculiar day, although oddly enough, I’m finding I can’t help but wonder what curious event is waiting for us next.”

  “I’m sure whatever my brother has to disclose is going to be of a curious nature. And, well, there’s always the curious state of the house I’m residing in on Fifth Avenue. It’s not remotely finished yet, but I am interested to hear what you think about the progress that’s been made so far.” He led her over to where Eugene was holding open the door to Gilbert’s carriage.

  Leaning closer to her, Eugene lowered his voice. “I’m coming with you, Miss Temperance.” He shot a look to Gilbert’s brother, who was climbing into a black carriage, his two friends immediately after him. “He seems to be a shifty sort, but ain’t no need to fret.” He tapped his stomach. “I’m armed and on high alert.”

  “Since that shifty sort is my brother, I’m going to urge you to keep your knives hidden since I don’t believe Charles will take kindly to being held at knifepoint,” Gilbert said, helping Temperance into the carriage and then following her.

  Eugene sent Temperance a look that clearly suggested he thought there was little hope he wouldn’t be pulling out his knife at some point, then shut the door, leaving Temperance all alone with Gilbert. The carriage rocked as Eugene took his place beside Gilbert’s driver, and a second later, they were off.

  “It’s rather odd that I’ve never been invited to see your house before. I only know that it’s located s
omewhere on Fifth Avenue,” Temperance said, her pulse picking up when Gilbert took hold of her hand and brought it almost absently to his lips.

  Giving her fingers a quick kiss, he smiled. “Beside the fact that such an invitation would break about a hundred rules of propriety since I’ve been living in that house as a bachelor, I haven’t invited you over because the house is barely habitable. Construction is occurring in almost every room except the library, and there are numerous scaffolds scattered about.” He sent her a rather significant look. “Since we’ve been experiencing enough dangerous situations of late, the last thing I wanted to do was put you in the path of temptation, knowing how much you seem to enjoy perilous heights.”

  Realizing it was not going to benefit her in the least to argue with that statement considering it was nothing less than the truth, Temperance settled for sending Gilbert a smile, spending the time it took to travel the length of Broadway discussing the startling events that had just transpired.

  “I get the distinct feeling your parents are not going to travel as much as they have in the past,” Gilbert remarked as they drove past Miss Snook’s School for the Education of the Feminine Mind, waving through the window to Miss Henrietta, who’d already pulled her carriage right up in front of the school. Her parents bounded out of the open carriage a second later, looking remarkably windblown but not looking at all concerned that they’d probably experienced an unforgettable ride down Broadway.

  “I imagine your parents will stay in the city for the foreseeable future as well,” Temperance said, turning back to Gilbert after they turned off Broadway and Miss Snook’s school disappeared from sight. “They always enjoyed such a great friendship with my parents, which I imagine they’re eager to resume.”

  “Our parents’ relationship reminds me of the ones we share with our friends, something I came to realize I wasn’t prepared to abandon.”

  “That wasn’t the only reason, though, was it, that you were investigating ways to abdicate your title—a problem that has been miraculously solved with the return of your brother to the living?”