Flights of Fancy (American Heiresses Book #1)

by Jen Turano

  He presented Izzie with a bow. “I’m sure your family will be here within the next day or two. I sent that telegram yesterday and included your current address for their convenience. Why, I imagine they’re even now on a train, anxious to fetch their missing and, let me add, troublesome daughter home.”

  Nigel sent Ian another smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the ball. Do feel free to still attend, MacKenzie. You might be in for an embarrassing time of it, though, because I intend to spread the tale of Miss Delafield’s duplicity far and wide—a bit of retaliation, if you will, for costing me the loss of those potential coalfields. I must say, I’m relishing the thought of disclosing to Pittsburgh society that you’re nothing but a fool.”

  With that, Nigel turned and sauntered from the room, laughter drifting after him.

  Silence settled in his wake, and knowing there was nothing to do but hear the worst of it, Ian turned to Izzie. “It’s true, then?”

  “I can explain.”

  His heart wanted to believe her, but his head, the part that had allowed him to amass an enormous fortune by using the wits God had given him, balked. “And will it be a factual explanation or more of the lies you’re obviously proficient at spinning?”

  Additional color leached from her face as she raised a hand to her throat. “I understand you’re angry. I would be too, but—”

  “Angry doesn’t do justice to what I currently feel toward you. You’ve made a fool of me, Izzie—” He caught himself. “I mean, Isadora. And for that, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to forgive you.”

  Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, eyes that were no longer covered by the spectacles she’d taken to abandoning whenever she was in the house—spectacles that had certainly only been a clever prop to disguise her true identity.

  “It was never my intention to hurt you or make a fool of you. I was merely trying to avoid the attentions of a most repulsive man.”

  “You would have me believe you’re not interested in a duke?”

  “I’m not. He’s lecherous, won’t take no for an answer, and after I gave him the cut direct in the middle of a Newport ball, I apparently became a challenge to him—and one he wasn’t willing to lose.”

  “You attended a ball in Newport?”

  “Well, yes, but if I’d known the Duke of Montrose was going to take such an interest in me, I would have pleaded a headache and not attended.”

  “Does your family own one of those grand cottages I’ve heard about in Newport?”

  “Are you going to become even more furious with me if I admit that we do?”

  “That’s a strong possibility.”

  Isadora blew out a breath. “We do own a cottage in Newport, as well as numerous other homes throughout the country . . . and a small house in Scotland.”

  Ian raked a hand through his hair. “What could have possibly possessed you to come up with a plan to disguise yourself as a housekeeper and seek out employment?”

  “No one ever notices the help, and no one in their right mind would have considered that I might go off on my own and take up a position.” She took a step closer to him, freezing when he took a step back. “I only did so after I was convinced by a man who used to work for the duke that my very life was in danger.”

  “In danger because you’d have to move to England, where the weather is frequently far chillier than it is in New York and you might catch a cold?”

  Her chin lifted, and her eyes turned chilly, lending clear credence to the fact that she was, indeed, a high-society lady. “Don’t be insulting.”

  “My apologies, but I find it a little difficult to summon up any sympathies for you when you’ve cast me in the part of fool. My father, besides being an abusive man, enjoyed ridiculing me. He’d mock my efforts to try and please him in front of his cronies, and I swore after Aunt Birdie and Uncle Amos took me away from him that I would never allow anyone to play me for a fool again. I also vowed I’d never place myself in a situation where I’d feel abandoned, because that’s one of the most helpless feelings in the world—waiting for someone you hold in affection to return to you. I finally accepted that my father had abandoned me and was never going to return to apologize, but I allowed you into my heart, Izzie, and yet, clearly, you had plans to abandon me all along.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Ian arched a brow. “You would have me believe that you were considering staying in Pennsylvania with me when you evidently have unlimited access to a great fortune and are a member of the New York Four Hundred?”

  “When you put it like that, it does sound unbelievable, but I did want to stay here with you and the children. And I was going to tell you everything. Nigel simply beat me to it.”

  “I don’t believe you. You can say you meant to tell me, but you’ve had plenty of time.”

  She dashed a tear from her cheek. “Did you ever consider that perhaps I didn’t tell you everything because I wanted you to continue treating me as a normal woman? Not as an heiress who would immediately send you to the very top of every societal ladder in the country if it became known you and I were forming an . . . attachment?”

  “As you said earlier, don’t be insulting. Do I strike you as a man who’d be comfortable using your social status to improve my lot in life?”

  “You’re the one who told everyone that your goal in life, besides amassing a fortune, was to marry well.”

  Ian blinked as he realized that was certainly nothing less than the truth. He frowned. “I concede that point, but do know that I’ve changed my mind about only marrying a woman of a certain social standing. That goal seems ridiculous to me now.”

  “And how was I supposed to know that?”

  “How was I supposed to know that you were the type of lady to show no qualms about embracing such duplicity, especially since you’ve allowed the children to become attached to you, as well as Aunt Birdie and Uncle Amos?” he countered.

  “I was in fear for my life.”

  “Right. From a duke.”

  “Rumor has it he’s done away with his previous three wives. Should I have allowed this man to continue pursuing me, knowing he could very well do away with me if I didn’t produce that ‘heir and a spare’ he told everyone he so desperately needed?”

  Ian frowned. “I’m sure those rumors are exaggerated, just as I’m sure you could have avoided this duke’s attention without assuming a new identity or insinuating yourself into my household. The children, who I should remind you are still recovering from the shock of their father’s death, have come to love you, as have—” he paused, drawing in a deep breath before he continued—“as have Aunt Birdie and Uncle Amos, and that, my dear, is a most grievous offense.”

  “I love the children, as well as Aunt Birdie and Uncle Amos. I did not deliberately set out to—”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience to listen to more of your lies and excuses. You’re welcome to stay here until your family comes to fetch you, if that occurs within the next two days. If they don’t arrive in a timely fashion, though, I’ll arrange to have Jonathon escort you back to New York, and to . . . Fifth Avenue, I assume?”

  Izzie’s eyes flashed with a bit of temper. “What will you do if the Duke of Montrose shows up in my parents’ stead? Hand me over to him and wash your hands of me once and for all?”

  “You’re being insulting again. If this duke shows up here, and if you want nothing to do with him, he’ll not get near you. You have my word on that.” He ignored the fresh sheen of tears in her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ball to attend.”

  “But Nigel said he was going to tell everyone about me tricking you.”

  “That is precisely why I’m going.” Ian smiled. “You may have made a fool of me, Isadora, but I’m more than capable of reclaiming my pride and my reputation. I would suggest you spend the evening packing your belongings. I don’t want you to have an excuse to linger under my roof after your family arrives.” With that, he inclined h
is head, turned on his heel, and strode from the room, calling himself every sort of a fool because he’d been tempted to take back his hurtful words after he’d noticed that the tears that had been brimming in her eyes had begun to trail down her far-too-beautiful face.

  Chapter 34

  Slipping out the front door the next afternoon, Isadora drew the hood of the cloak she’d found at the bottom of her trunk over her head, protecting her hair from the drizzle of a gloomy day that mirrored her thoughts.

  She’d not followed Ian’s instructions to gather all her belongings and have them packed and ready to go when her family came to fetch her. That blatant bit of mutiny was a direct result of her making a most monumental decision—she wasn’t going to leave Pittsburgh, not unless Ian personally put her on a train, because . . .

  She’d fallen in love with the life she’d been living of late, fallen in love with the children, Aunt Birdie, Uncle Amos, Buttercup, Sparky, even Elmer, and . . .

  She was in love, and not merely a little bit, with Ian. In all honesty, she was completely and utterly in love with that exasperating man, but she’d hurt him, undeniably so.

  That hurt was one of the biggest regrets of her life, but she wasn’t willing to merely do as he asked and depart from his life, not until she was given an opportunity to tell him she loved him and to beg his forgiveness.

  In order to do that, though, she needed some space to gather her thoughts and compose a compelling argument that would convince him she was worthy of another chance and worthy of his love.

  Nodding to a well-dressed lady pushing a pram that she’d almost barreled into as she’d been lost in thought, Isadora ignored the sharp glance the lady sent her, wondering if the lady was trying to decide if she was the notorious Isadora Delafield, whose secret had evidently been exposed the night before at Miss Moore’s ball.

  Ian had, indeed, gone to the ball, and from what she’d learned as she’d been eavesdropping on a conversation he’d had with Aunt Birdie earlier that morning, Nigel had been as good as his word, telling everyone gathered at the ball about Isadora’s true identity. Ian, however, instead of allowing himself to become the focus of Pittsburgh gossip, had apparently turned Nigel’s story around. Undoubtedly using charm to great effect, he’d spun a tale that convinced the guests he’d known Isadora’s secret all along, and that he’d been the one to offer her a place of refuge to recover from a social season in Newport that had turned overly demanding.

  Instead of being annoyed with Ian for painting her as an emotional sort, needing respite from the frivolities of a season, Isadora had found herself impressed by his explanation, as well as the fact that he’d apparently also managed to reveal Nigel’s underhanded methods in attempting to acquire land from Uncle Amos and Aunt Birdie.

  Pittsburgh society had not been amused, and even though Nigel, as so many men of fortune before him, would eventually find himself welcomed back into the folds of society, for now he’d been cast out. Not even Miss Moore was interested in continuing her association with him.

  Turning from Fifth Avenue when she spotted a large tree that would shelter her from drizzle that was rapidly turning into large raindrops, Isadora stepped to the right to allow two gentlemen walking her way room enough to pass. Confusion was her first response when she felt one of those gentlemen take hold of her arm.

  That confusion turned to horror a mere second later when she felt what was clearly a pistol poke into her side right as a closed carriage pulled up next to her.

  A scream began bubbling up her throat, but before it could erupt through her lips, the carriage door opened and she was thrown inside, landing on the hard floor right as the door slammed shut and the carriage bolted into motion.

  As she pushed herself up from the floor, the horror she’d been feeling turned to outrage when her attention settled on a gentleman sitting on the carriage seat. That gentleman was beaming a yellow-toothed smile and was, unfortunately, none other than the Duke of Montrose.

  “Do know that it does pain me to see you gagged, my dear, but if you’ll promise to refrain from taking me to task, I’ll be more than happy to remove the gag. We’ll then be free to discuss pleasant matters, such as poetry, my many estates in England, or how I intend to use that lovely dowry your delightful mother told me will be mine after you and I are married.”

  Sending the duke a glare as they bounced along a road that couldn’t be considered well traveled, given its many holes and ruts, Isadora pondered his offer.

  They’d been riding in the carriage for hours and had yet to discuss anything of importance, probably because she’d not been able to refrain from lecturing the man who’d had the audacity to abduct her. That lecturing finally earned her a gag after the duke proclaimed she was giving him a dreadful headache.

  His headache had apparently only increased after she’d made three attempts to escape, each attempt unsuccessful and leaving her with numerous bruises incurred when she’d thrown herself from the moving carriage and tumbled to the ground.

  The first time she’d tried to escape, the duke was taken by such surprise that he actually seemed to convince himself she’d tumbled from the carriage by accident, blaming a door that must not have been soundly latched.

  However, by her second attempt, he’d begun keeping a closer eye on her, and by her third, well, after he’d jumped after her and pulled her from the mud puddle she’d landed in, he’d stuck his pistol into her side. Realizing he wouldn’t be opposed to using that pistol on her, she’d climbed yet again into the carriage. The duke had then resorted to securing her leg with one end of a rope and tying the other end to his leg.

  She’d been considering a fourth attempt, hoping to pull the man right out of the carriage with her. But when she’d tried to move her leg the slightest bit to test if her attempt would work, she’d not been able to move much at all, that trying circumstance a direct result of the duke being so portly.

  Now, hours after her last attempt to escape, she was forced to sit in filthy clothing that was still wet, gagged as well as tethered, rapidly losing hope that she’d ever figure out a way to escape.

  “Ah, I do believe we might be approaching our destination,” the duke suddenly said as the carriage began to slow and he drew aside the curtain that covered the window. He smiled as the carriage came to a complete stop, returning his attention to her.

  “I’m sure, like me, you’ll be relieved to know that the carriage part of our trip is now at an end. We’ll be taking a train from here.” He leaned toward her. “I thought it prudent to travel by carriage until we were far removed from Pittsburgh. No sense in drawing someone’s attention in that disgraceful and dirty city. That might very well have disrupted the plans I have for you, my dear.”

  Glancing to the window, Isadora would have smiled if not for the gag stuffed in her mouth. The station they’d stopped at was bustling with people. There was little likelihood that someone wouldn’t take note of a woman with a rope around her leg and a gag in her mouth. All she needed to do was . . .

  “A word of warning before we depart the carriage,” the duke said, almost as if he had the ability to read her mind. “You should understand that even though I’ve decided you’ll make a more-than-suitable wife for me, what with the fortune you have attached to your name and your beautiful face and figure, I’m not a man tolerant of shenanigans. And while I would be most disappointed to not return with you as my wife to England, there’ve been many ladies who’ve allowed me to know they’re more than amenable to part with their fortunes to acquire that all-too-coveted title of duchess.”

  She tried to talk through the gag, wincing when he suddenly sat forward and pulled it from her mouth.

  Stretching lips that had turned numb, Isadora cleared her throat. “Are you suggesting that if I pursue shenanigans, you’re going to lose interest in me and set me free?”

  “Lose interest in you, yes. Set you free, not a chance.”

  The implied threat behind those words was evident, but
before Isadora could think of a response, the duke leveled a dangerous gaze at her.

  “To ensure you don’t do anything foolish, my dear, or anything that will draw undue attention while we board the special Pullman car my men have arranged for us, I should tell you that I left a man behind in Pittsburgh. If that man receives word from me—and I think you’ll soon understand what type of word that will be—he’ll then travel back to that lovely home you were staying in and . . . well, those were adorable children I saw you walking with around the grounds. It would be unfortunate if something of an unpleasant nature were to happen to them.”

  Any thought she had of trying to escape disappeared as fury licked its way through her veins. That the duke seemed to have no qualms about harming innocents was almost too much to take, but it meant she truly had no choice but to cooperate.

  “Fine,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “I’ll behave.”

  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he countered as he bent to untie her leg before he did the same to his own. He then bundled her into her muddy cloak, tucking her hair under the hood, his hand lingering on her cheek and leaving her skin crawling.

  Warning her to keep her head down as they quit the carriage, he led her to a private Pullman car at a station she learned was quite some miles east of Pittsburgh. The duke’s men joined them to make certain the duke didn’t want them to travel in the Pullman car with him since Isadora had tried to escape so many times before, but after assuring his men he had the situation well in hand and instructing them where to set two large bags they were carrying, the men left to take their seats in a different car, leaving her alone with the duke again.

  Apprehension swept through her when the door to the Pullman car closed with a bang and the duke locked that door and turned.