by Turano, Jen
“My dear child, prayers should certainly commence immediately, especially since it’s clear you might have gotten yourself embroiled in something . . . disturbing.”
6
Slouching down in a chair made of the finest leather, Oliver took a sip of his drink, allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, something he hadn’t been able to do since he’d returned to New York the day before.
Stretching his legs out in front of him, he gazed fondly around at his surroundings. Astor House wasn’t nearly as plush as the Metropolitan Hotel or even the Fifth Avenue Hotel. In all honesty, most of his associates found the Astor House to be downright old-fashioned. He, however, enjoyed it—especially the idea that gentlemen of business had sought refuge there for years, using the dark and quiet confines of the private rooms the hotel offered as a place to escape the hectic pace of their lives.
It was also a perfect place to enjoy a leisurely lunch and hide from lecturing housekeepers, opinionated butlers, and irate fathers who happened to believe their daughters deserved a second chance at becoming Oliver’s bride. After all that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, he felt he was entitled to a few hours of hiding, especially in a place where no one spoke above a whisper, at least as pertained to the well-trained staff Astor House employed.
He lifted his glass, took another sip, and then glanced to his right, his lips quirking at the sight of his best friend, Everett Mulberry, slouching in the chair next to him. The poor man had dark shadows staining the skin underneath eyes that were currently closed. Everett also had a decidedly grumpy look about him, clear evidence that the man was suffering the same type of week Oliver was.
“How are the brats?” Oliver asked, causing one of Everett’s eyes to pop open, peer at him for a second, and then close again.
“They’re bratty,” Everett muttered. “They’re always bratty.”
“And the latest disaster would be . . . ?”
Everett rubbed his temple. “When was the last time we spoke?”
“I’ve been out of town six weeks, but I believe we had dinner the night before I left.”
“Is that all the time that has passed since I last saw you? To tell you the truth, it felt like years, but that might be because my life drags on through one horrific incident after another these days.” Everett opened his eyes. “Let me see, in the past six weeks I’ve gone through four governesses, two nannies, and had one driver and one kitchen maid tender their resignations due to an overabundance of stress.”
“That has to be a new record.”
“I’m sure you’re probably right. To top matters off, the employment agency where I get my staff has recently informed me that if I don’t get the children under control soon, they will not provide me with any additional help, whether they be governesses, maids, or drivers. I certainly don’t know how to bring the children under control, and the agency is supposed to have professionals at their disposal. One would think, given all the money I’ve shelled out, that these professionals could easily manage three children.”
“Have you reminded the agency that you’ve only recently inherited these children?”
Everett released a grunt. “They don’t seem to care.” He snatched up his glass, took a hefty gulp, and set the glass back on the table a little harder than was strictly necessary. “I still cannot fathom what Fred Burkhart was thinking, leaving his children to me. Why, I barely knew the man.”
“You stood up for him at his wedding.”
“Oh . . . right, but—”
“You’re godparent to all three of his children.”
“True, but honestly, Oliver, I thought that only meant I would be expected to watch them sing in the church choir, or send them outlandish presents at Christmas. I never thought I’d be expected to raise them if something dastardly happened to Fred and his wife. Besides, Miss Marybeth Thornridge is also godparent to the little monsters, and she’s a woman. I really don’t understand why she wasn’t given guardianship.”
“I would have to believe, since Miss Thornridge is off on a mission in the wilds of some backward country and has been off on that mission for at least two years, Fred thought you’d be easier to locate if something were to happen to him, which it did.”
“Being the easiest godparent to locate does not make me the most viable candidate. I’m a single gentleman who spends his time immersed in business and society matters. I don’t have time to raise three children, all of whom seem to have made it their goal in life to slowly drive me insane with their daily bouts of mischief.”
Oliver thought it was a sign of true friendship that he didn’t laugh. Everett looked so disconcerted that he’d hardly appreciate amusement, and Oliver really couldn’t blame the man. It wasn’t every day a person got saddled with someone else’s children. “I imagine Fred really never thought he’d die, but it’s a great testimony to how much he trusted you that he left you his children.”
“I’d rather have been left a yacht.” Everett shuddered. “Elizabeth, she’s the oldest of the bunch, actually took down all the curtains in the receiving room, cut them up, and sewed them into dresses for herself and the twins.”
“Isn’t one of the twins a boy?”
“That was exactly my point. Poor Thaddeus looked ridiculous in the mauve-colored frock Elizabeth stuffed him into.” Everett shook his head. “Unfortunately, when I made mention of that, Elizabeth burst into tears, Rosetta, the other twin, bit me, and Thaddeus now refuses to wear anything other than dresses.” He blew out a breath. “How could I have possibly known that Elizabeth was not proficient with sewing and had tried to make Thaddeus a pair of trousers out of the drapes, but they didn’t work, and because of that, she’d made him the only thing she was capable of making, a frock.” He released a heavy sigh. “She didn’t want her little brother to feel left out.”
“I’m almost hesitant to bring this up, but that was rather sweet of Elizabeth.”
Everett slouched down into the chair again. “I know, and quite frankly, it would be easier if they were horrible all the time. That way I could send them off to some boarding school, wash my hands of them, and not feel a sliver of guilt about it.”
“Aren’t the twins only around five years old?”
“They are, but Miss Dixon managed to find a school that will take them, even given their tender ages.”
Oliver crossed his ankles. “Ah, the ever-resourceful Miss Dixon. May I assume your association with the lady is going according to plan?”
“I imagine it is, although nothing is official just yet.” Everett swiped a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “She’s certainly an ideal candidate for the position of Mrs. Mulberry. She’s friends with all the right people, and my parents approve of her.”
“Do you approve of her?”
“What’s not to approve? She’s beautiful, fairly well-educated, has stellar manners, and we rub along quite nicely together.”
“But she doesn’t care for the children?”
Everett frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“She took it upon herself to search out a boarding school for them.”
“Hmmm . . . I never thought of it in that light, but enough about the brats. They plague me all too often as it is.” Everett smiled. “Tell me about you—is there anything new and exciting happening in your life?”
“You could say that.”
Everett’s eyes widened. “You’ve finally buckled under the pressure of your grandfather’s badgering and gotten engaged, haven’t you.”
“No, I’m not engaged, although I must tell you, a Miss Birmingham seems to have spread it about town that she was soon going to become the new Mrs. Addleshaw. Luckily for me, I discovered her true nature before our association could progress. I’m hopeful she’s even now on her way back to Chicago—even though she did end up costing me a pretty penny in the process.”
“Pennies are worth the cost if you managed to dodge a nasty bullet.”
“Miss Birm
ingham certainly did turn nasty, as did her father.” Oliver grinned. “I shudder to think how he’ll react if he learns about Miss Harriet Peabody.”
Everett moved his chair closer to Oliver. “You’d better start at the beginning.”
Fifteen minutes later, Oliver concluded his story, unable to help but notice that Everett was staring back at him with undisguised shock on his face. He was about to ring the bell to order a fresh drink when Everett released a grunt.
“And you had the audacity to tell poor Mr. Birmingham that his daughter was mentally unstable.”
“I’m not insane, Everett. Hiring Harriet to accompany me as I proceed forward with the Duke of Westmoore is one of the most ingenious ideas I’ve ever come up with. I can’t dine with the gentleman without having a lady around to add a touch of charm to the atmosphere. The duke will expect to be properly entertained, and I’m not willing to disappoint the man. I’m determined to finalize my deal with him and procure wool that’s considered the finest in the world.”
“It’s only wool, Oliver. Don’t you think you might be taking things too far?”
Oliver shrugged. “I’ve spent countless hours formulating this deal, and my time is money. Besides, hiring a lady to help me entertain business associates instead of counting on ladies with marriage on their minds will save me a huge amount of aggravation. I should have thought of it years ago.”
“But it simply isn’t done. I’m of the firm belief that the social classes shouldn’t mingle—something I thought you believed as well. There are a million things that could go wrong with this plan of yours. She’s a hat girl, Oliver.”
“She’s remarkably refined.”
“You told me she slung Miss Birmingham over her shoulder and tossed her into a carriage. I wouldn’t think it necessary to point this out—but refined young ladies don’t normally spend their time tossing other people about.”
“She was trying to conceal a nearly naked Miss Birmingham. If you ask me, that shows she has a great deal of compassion.”
“You call it compassion, I call it self-preservation. Miss Birmingham was beating Miss Peabody with a parasol.”
“True, but again, she merely tossed the woman into a carriage. She could have done something far worse, which proves she’s a lady of great restraint and will be an asset on my arm.”
“I think a bigger factor in your decision to hire her was that she turned you down at first.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oliver, I’ve known you since we were children. You’re competitive. You were shocked when Miss Peabody turned down your first proposal. That is what had you throwing caution to the wind and increasing the amount of your offer.” Everett shook his head. “Why, I can’t help but wonder what you’d have done if she’d turned down the three thousand dollars. Proposed to her, perhaps?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. I may have no hesitation about bringing Harriet on to work for me, but I know perfectly well she’s not remotely acceptable as a candidate for the future Mrs. Addleshaw.”
Everett narrowed his eyes. “Society will make that assumption once she’s seen by your side.”
“No they won’t. Society, it is my belief, has moved forward regarding such matters, given that it’s the eighteen hundreds, not the Dark Ages. Just because a lady is seen on a gentleman’s arm does not mean a wedding is imminent.”
“I don’t think we’ve progressed as far as you believe,” Everett countered. “Tell me, though, what’s to happen to this Miss Peabody after your association ends?”
“I assume she’ll take the money she earns from me and go about doing whatever it is hat girls do when they come into possession of unexpected funds.”
Everett shifted in his seat. “Out of curiosity, what exactly do you expect Miss Peabody to do in order to earn three thousand dollars?”
“Her most important responsibility will be to charm the duke.”
“And you honestly believe that a hat girl will be capable of that daunting task?”
“She charmed me, and—”
“She charmed you?” Everett interrupted, looking more shocked than ever. “Good heavens, Oliver. This truly is madness, then. You’re attracted to the woman, and you mark my words—disaster is right around the corner if you go through with this.”
Oliver felt an unaccustomed rush of heat travel up his neck. “I’m not attracted to her. Well, she is lovely, but . . . what I meant to say is that she has an air about her that I’m sure the duke will find charming, and . . .” He lapsed into silence when Everett began muttering dire predictions under his breath. To Oliver’s relief, he was spared further embarrassment when a quiet knock sounded on the door before it opened and a member of the Astor House staff stepped into the room.
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen, but Mr. Ruff is waiting outside to speak with you, Mr. Addleshaw. Shall I send him in?”
For a second, Oliver thought about saying no. Silas Ruff was one of his business associates, brought into Oliver’s employ after Oliver invested in the man’s ore mining venture. Silas had been exactly what Oliver needed—a ruthless, ambitious man who had no qualms about getting things done, no matter what means it took to turn a profit. Silas had been with Oliver for four years, and while his temperamental personality sometimes grated on Oliver’s nerves, he kept Silas on because profitability had never been better.
However, Silas’s habit of tracking Oliver down whenever he wanted to speak to him was beginning to become a problem. The fact they’d had plans to meet that morning, but Silas hadn’t shown, made it all the more annoying.
“Since it appears Mr. Ruff knows I’m here, you might as well bring him in,” Oliver finally said.
With a nod, the man withdrew from the room. A moment later, Silas strode through the doorway with the Astor House employee following a step behind him.
“Get me a whiskey, neat,” Silas threw at the man. “And something to eat, a steak, I think, bloody, and make it quick. I’m starving.”
It was a mark of how well Astor House trained their staff that the man Silas had just barked at didn’t even flinch. “Very good, sir,” he said before turning to Oliver and Everett. “May I bring you fresh drinks?”
Oliver nodded, as did Everett. The man bowed, turned, and quit the room, right as Silas grabbed a chair and pulled it over toward Oliver, the legs making a loud scraping noise against the floor. Silas eased his bulky frame down into it and folded his hands over his stomach.
“I’ve been looking for you for over two hours,” he complained.
Oliver arched a brow. “I was under the impression you and I were supposed to meet early this morning, as in at seven.”
“That must have slipped my mind, but I’m here now.” Silas settled into the chair. “Some problems have cropped up.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Birmingham tracked me down this morning. He’s not happy with you and is demanding more money for the purchase of his business. And he wants to retain full control of that business after we buy it from him.”
Oliver frowned. “I spoke with him yesterday, and we agreed that our deal would proceed forward as planned. He made no mention to me that he was going to seek greater compensation, and . . . no, he can’t retain control. His leadership is what sent that company plummeting toward ruin in the first place.”
Silas nodded. “I know that, Oliver, but Mr. Birmingham isn’t in a reasonable state of mind at the moment. He expected you to offer his daughter marriage, but now that his dream apparently isn’t going to happen, he wants to see you pay.”
“I only asked Miss Birmingham to accompany me to a few social events. Forgive me if I don’t believe taking a lady out for dinner demands a proposal afterward.”
“He thinks you jilted his little precious.”
“Miss Birmingham insisted she wasn’t interested in marrying me.” Oliver’s lips curved up. “She believes I’m a tyrant and that I’m not considerate of her tender feelings.”
“You are a tyrant,” Silas retorted. “But tyranny aside, how is this parting of the ways with Miss Birmingham going to affect your dealings with the Duke of Westmoore?”
“I don’t believe it’ll affect it at all.”
Sitting forward, Silas placed his hands on his knees, the action causing the buttons of his jacket to strain against the bulk of his stomach. “Are you going to be making the rounds this week to what few soirées might be held in the city to see if there are any suitable candidates who would be willing to help you entertain the duke?”
“I don’t need to resort to that. I already have someone in mind.”
“Who is she?”
“Since it would appear the Birminghams have yet to leave the city, I’m not comfortable divulging that information just yet.”
Silas nodded. “Understandable, although I do hope you’ve chosen someone a little more high in the instep than Miss Birmingham. Her family, while respectable, is certainly not as desirable as someone of your status deserves. If you want to continue increasing your holdings as well as your standing within society, you’ll need to have a lady of worth by your side.”
“My family is one of the most powerful families in America.”
“True, but it’s not the most powerful, is it?” Silas returned. “Combining your power with that of an equally powerful family will only increase your appeal, which brings me back to this mysterious lady of yours. She is well connected, isn’t she?”
Since Oliver had no idea what, if any, connections Harriet had—although he doubted she knew or was related to anyone of importance—he decided it was time to change the subject. “You mentioned that a few problems have cropped up. May I assume there are other matters to discuss besides the ridiculous notion of Mr. Birmingham trying to squeeze more money out of me?”
“You shouldn’t take Mr. Birmingham lightly,” Silas said, easing back into his chair. “He’s furious, and furious men can do dangerous things.”
“True. Set up another meeting with him soon, and remind him that he’s the one who sought out our assistance, not the other way around. And, he did so because he’s desperate for money. Once his temper cools, I’m sure he’ll remember that.”
