by Bird, Peggy
He took a seat opposite her, and they sat staring at each other for a few long moments. Rosemary studied his elegant face, the way his long eyelashes created shadows on his cheeks. Such lovely cheeks. Leading to an equally lovely mouth, full of expression. She moistened her lips as she gazed at him, remembering how soft and tender his own lips were when he kissed her.
And then she mentally shook herself. She could not allow herself to fall under the spell of Henry Cooper again. Her purpose was only to advance his interest in her. She could control her feelings for him. Her resolve stiffened as the silence between them intensified. Harry Hawk and Penelope were counting on her. Until she handed Henry Cooper her completed novel, declared she was indeed the author, and they went their separate ways, she would take the helm of their relationship and steer it in the direction she wanted it to go. It could not be run off course, as so many of her stories were. Despite her mother’s encouragement not to fight it, this was real life, not one of her dime novels, and things could be orderly if she paid close enough attention.
Rosemary cleared her throat and motioned to the teacart with her hand. “Would you care for some refreshments?”
“Tea would be wonderful, thank you.” He stood when Rosemary did, and moved with her to the cart. She took a deep breath to calm herself. He was making a move, much as he did in fencing. An engagement. They were close enough to join blades and attack, so it was up to her to control the situation. French fencing terminology swirled in her mind. What had Henry called it? A prise de fer? Yes, that was it. She’d take his blade from him.
If only she could gain control of her body. Rosemary’s hand shook at his nearness, and she spilled a bit of hot tea onto her fingers. Her hand recoiled as the scorching tea turned her fingers red. Henry removed his handkerchief and wiped her fingers clean. Then he kissed each wounded digit softly. Rosemary’s heart clattered against the cage she had put it in. Not a very effective counter-attack on her part.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said as she attempted to remove her hand from his. His hold on her tightened, and he leaned in, intent on pressing his advantage and finding her lips.
“Mr. Cooper, how nice to see you this afternoon.” Charlotte Fitzpatrick breezed into the room with a Cheshire Cat grin on her face.
Rosemary pulled away from him immediately, picked up the two cups of tea she had poured, and deposited them on the low table between the chairs. Her mother took up residence in the chair next to Henry. Rosemary returned to the cart, poured a third cup of tea for her mother, and then settled back onto the loveseat, her eyes on Henry. His shoulders seemed slumped now. Rosemary bit back a grin. Her mother’s plan was working. He may exude confidence when it was just the two of them, but when her mother was added to the mix, Henry Cooper became just another bumbling young man making a social call. She was going to enjoy this.
“It’s good of you to join us, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. How is Uncle Frank today?” Rosemary’s eyes raked over him. Perhaps she had misjudged his demeanor. He was still on the attack. She only hoped her mother would catch on.
“Who?” She darted a glance at Rosemary, who rolled her eyes.
“Uncle Frank is still feeling poorly, Mr. Cooper,” Rosemary replied evenly. “His health is so fragile.”
“Will he not be able to finish the book he’s working on, then?”
“He owes one more in the series to you, and he’ll not renege on his existing contract. After he finishes the contract, he may retire. We’ll see what happens.” Rosemary could barely control her outrage at his line of questioning. But at the same time, she thought this must be why he was such a master of fencing. He could lull you into thinking he’s done for, right before he took your blade. He had performed the prise de fer, not she. And had done so magnificently. She definitely could benefit from more lessons.
“Ahh,” Charlotte replied, finally understanding Henry’s question. “George’s brother, Frank.”
“Oh? I thought he was related to you, not your husband.”
Rosemary had a moment of concern for her mother, who was getting more confused by the course of the conversation. Best to stop it now.
“This is not a business meeting, Mr. Cooper, and my mother has no head for the goings on of your publishing house. Or Uncle Frank’s involvement. Are you not here for personal reasons today?”
Henry sat back in the chair and appraised Rosemary. “Forgive me. You are correct, Miss Fitzpatrick. My goal today is to sip some tea with you and your mother, and to invite you to a chamber recital on Friday evening.”
Rosemary slid her gaze from Henry to her mother. Charlotte brightened considerably. “The recital at the Mastersons?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Well, Mr. Fitzpatrick and I already planned to attend the recital, so we’d be happy to accompany you and Rosemary.”
Henry relaxed back into his chair. “Good, then. It’s settled.”
“No, it is not, Mr. Cooper,” Rosemary replied. “I haven’t yet agreed to go with you.”
Henry and Charlotte exchanged glances. Then Henry locked eyes with Rosemary. “You’re correct, of course. Will you accompany me to the recital, Miss Fitzpatrick?”
Rosemary smiled demurely. “I’ll need a day to think about it. I’ll send you my answer tomorrow.”
She had learned a thing or two in their brief fencing lesson. She had deflected his attack with a parry of her own.. She could keep him off-balance, just as he could her. A little shiver of excitement ran down her spine. She did so love fencing.
• • •
Henry paced around his office, occasionally assuming a parry stance and slashing through the air with an imaginary sword. Rosemary had gotten the upper hand yesterday by making him wait for an answer on the recital. Well, she may want to play games with him, but he was ready for a riposte, an attack made immediately after her parry. She was a worthy adversary, but he was tired of these games.
He hoped she’d deliver the reply herself. If she walked through his door, he’d show her no mercy. He’d lunge at her, back her into a corner, and then kiss her until she couldn’t talk. She and her mother had driven him to the edge yesterday with genteel conversation. He had gritted his teeth as they’d chattered on about mutual acquaintances, fashion, and other inanities. He’d had enough talk. He wanted more. More of Rosemary.
Henry’s tortured mind stopped its whirlwind pace as the swishing of long skirts in the hallway captured his attention. The door handle turned, and Henry held his breath. Rosemary entered, and Henry’s heart began to race. He moved forward, ready to complete the attack his mind had been formulating. Then he noticed her mother trailing behind.
His mind screeched to a halt, along with his body. Damnation. He enjoyed Charlotte Fitzpatrick’s company, but right now all he wanted was to be alone with Rosemary. To kiss those lips until they swelled under his ministrations. To thrust and parry with her tongue much as they had done with their swords during her fencing lesson. To rip her clothing from her body and take her to his bed. He took a step back.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Miss Fitzpatrick.” He raised his imaginary sword and saluted them. The match had begun.
Charlotte was first to respond. “How nice to see you again, Mr. Cooper. We were out shopping and thought, rather than a note, we’d just pop in and deliver the news ourselves.”
Rosemary’s huge gray eyes stared a hole through him. His gaze locked with hers as Charlotte’s words buzzed in the background.
“What news have you, then?” His question was directed to Rosemary.
“Yes.” Such a simple word, yet Henry’s heart skipped a beat.
“Yes, as in you’d enjoy my company?” He had to be certain.
Rosemary’s face softened a bit as she replied, “Yes. As in I will accompany you the recital.” She pointedly hadn’t said she’d enjoy his company, yet he witnessed a flash of heat in her eyes as she stood her ground against him. He was pressing her, pushing her as if their blades were ent
angled. And good fencing form meant he should be following up his press with an immediate threat of his own. His mind overflowed with possibilities.
“Excellent,” he replied to Rosemary before he turned his attention to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “Have you ever before taken a tour of the production side of a publishing house, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?”
“Well, no. But I’ve never seen the business side, either. This is my first visit.” Point One for Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
“What about the art department? Would you care to see how our covers are created?”
“Ooh, yes, that would be most enlightening! I do have a bit of talent with watercolors myself.”
“Then follow me, and I’ll have one of the art staff show you around.”
Henry was back in a flash, having deposited Mrs. Fitzpatrick with his loyal employee, Levi, and he was alone in the office with Rosemary. Finally. He had no time to waste.
She appeared nervous. Her tongue moistened her lips as she stood straight, facing him. Henry groaned as he followed her tongue’s movement, and he took a step toward her. In moments, she was backed into a corner, and Henry had an arm on either side of her, penning her in. She raised her eyes to him.
And he was lost. His hand left the wall and tangled itself into her hair. Pins went flying as he brought her lips to his and kissed her with all the passion he’d been denied for days. His tongue invaded her mouth, and hers dueled with his, thrusting and parrying in an unforgiving rhythm. His body moved against hers, and he was certain she could feel his need for her, up against her center. He pressed himself into her even more and inhaled her patchouli scent, which drove him over the edge. He moved against her, matching the pace their tongues were setting. She moaned softly, and raised her hands to undo his queue. Her hands roamed his mane of hair as she returned his kisses with as much passion as he gave to her. Her hands encircled his head, pressing him against her mouth. He couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to.
“My goodness, I can’t leave the two of you alone for a minute, can I?”
Rosemary gasped and Henry jumped away. Mrs. Fitzpatrick had returned to the room without either of them noticing. Henry faced Mrs. Fitzpatrick, fully expecting the wrath of a mother protecting her daughter’s innocence. Instead, she smiled, a secretive smile that confused him.
“I’m assuming Rosemary has told you she’d like to continue meeting you for lessons, and the kiss sealed the arrangement. So, now come, Rosemary, we must be off. Gather up your pins and do the best you can, so as not to appear too disheveled in public. Especially if someone was to witness the place of business we are leaving. Mr. Cooper, we’ll see you Friday at seven for dinner and the recital. I do believe you and Mr. Fitzpatrick need to have a private conversation.” Henry wondered how long Mrs. Fitzpatrick had been standing in the room, staring at them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Where you headed, pretty lady?” Hands reached out to grab Penelope as Harry steered her past the table of rowdy men.
“Pull in your horns, man. The lady is retiring to her room.”
The man with the eye patch rose from the table. Harry was ready for a confrontation but was surprised when the man let them move past without a quarrel. However, the itch between Harry’s shoulder blades told him they were being watched. Best to keep his guard up.
The next week dragged by as Henry waited impatiently for a letter from his sister. Since he now had a plan in place, he was eager to get started. When Marguerite arrived, he’d impress her with the publishing house, explain his idea about creating a monthly magazine as well, and put her in charge of the accounting portion of the business. Assuming she agreed. He wanted it to be her decision, not something forced upon her. His father was the one trying to control her life, not Henry. He only wanted to give her options. Then, once Rosemary realized his ideas on women in the workplace did not mesh with his father’s, even a little bit, she’d be forthcoming with the information about who the real F.P. Elliott was.
Since their scorching kiss at his office, which had been interrupted by her mother, Henry had been the model of decorum, much to his dismay. Her father had taken him aside before the dinner prior to the recital and told him in no uncertain terms he would not tolerate such brazen behavior toward his daughter, unless they got engaged. Then he’d loosen his control over her a bit. Until Henry proposed, and Rosemary accepted, she would be chaperoned each time they were together. So, all had been tame and totally proper as together they went riding in the park and she continued with her fencing lessons, with a maid trailing behind them at all times. Henry was about to climb the walls as he waited for word from his sister.
He gave some thought to his father and how he might react to Henry’s plans. His father would not be pleased, but exactly how angry he would get was an unknown. The man was capable of anything, as Henry was well aware.
Even though his father now wanted him as part of the business, Henry was aware of the real reason he was in New York instead of by his father’s side in Boston. Out of sight, out of mind. Which was just as well, since they could not agree on a wide range of items, including his father’s thought process behind Henry’s banishment. Since Henry was placed in charge of the New York branch of the business, it meant he’d run it the way he wanted to. But he’d best prepare for an attack, which was why he was on his way to the National City Bank this morning. He needed to discuss with Rosemary’s father his idea and extract Mr. Fitzpatrick’s promise of backing, should the worst-case scenario happen.
“Mr. Cooper, how nice of you to call.” George Fitzpatrick rose from his leather chair behind a rather large desk that was covered with neat stacks of paper. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need to discuss a business plan with you and find out if I can count on your backing.”
“Always open to new ideas. Please proceed.” George motioned for Henry to take a seat in front of the desk. George closed his office door and returned to his leather chair.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” George Fitzpatrick took out his pipe and pouch of tobacco.
“Not at all, sir. Even though I’ve never developed a taste for tobacco, I do enjoy the aroma it creates.”
“Good, because my office here and my library at home are the only places in my sphere where Charlotte allows it. I’ve been banished within my own house, can you believe it?” But George was wearing a smile as he spouted his words. Henry grew envious of George and his life. He took a deep sniff of the tobacco smoke before he began his practiced speech.
“First, I want you to know my feelings for Rosemary are deep and true. I have every intention of proposing to her at the earliest opportunity, if I can obtain your approval.”
George pinned Henry into his seat with his eyes. “The final decision on Rosemary’s future will be up to her, but I have no objection to you becoming a permanent fixture at my dinner table. You can be assured of that. Of course, her mother and I would prefer to have the engagement announced as soon as possible, especially after your public display at the theatre a few weeks ago. Mabel Wentworth has made certain all of society is expecting it.”
“I am aware our indiscretion caused some talk, and I hope to rectify it soon.”
“So, as long as we’re in accord on Rosemary, let’s talk business. I’m sure your relationship with my daughter is not what led you here today.”
“No, sir, but it is part of it. I’ve extended an invitation to my sister, Marguerite, to join me here in New York, and to become part of the publishing house. When my father gets wind of what I’m doing, he’ll threaten to sell the business from under me. And without steady employment, I can’t very well take on the commitment of a wife.”
George steepled his hands together and peered over them at Henry. “I see. Then why are you intentionally setting yourself up to incur your father’s wrath?”
“Because my father retains a very traditional view when it comes to a lady’s place in the world, Mr. Fitzpatrick. My sister is far more capable of dealing with th
e financial side of the business than I am, but simply because she was born female, my father doesn’t think she can add two and two and come up with four.”
George smiled. “Many men are of a similar mind, Mr. Cooper.”
“But you’re not.”
George shifted in his seat. “Comes from having a house full of daughters who each, in her own way, is proving such a backward way of thinking is very wrong.”
“Precisely. Which is why I’m here today. I’ve pieced together the fact Rosemary is the true author behind the F.P. Elliott name.”
George Fitzpatrick lifted an eyebrow. “I told you my daughters were advocates of change. Rosemary is no different. But why come to me with your suspicions instead of confronting Rosemary?”
Henry had to applaud Mr. Fitzpatrick’s neat side step. He hadn’t confirmed or denied Rosemary’s duplicity. “Because I want her to reveal herself to me willingly. If she sees me offering my sister a part of the business in spite of my father’s ideas, she’ll understand my feelings toward women are more in alignment with yours than they are with my own father’s. It’s not a matter of ‘if,’ but ‘when’ with my father. I received a note from Marguerite today, and she’ll be here by week’s end. So when my father puts the New York portion of the family business up for sale, to thwart me for going against his ideas, I want to be ready to buy it. And for that, I need your bank’s help.”
“Your beliefs about women’s rights are so strong, are they?”
“Yes, sir, they are.”
“Well, then, you have my blessing. The bank will fund the purchase of the publishing house by you whenever you need to exercise that option. I assume you’ll want the transaction handled anonymously when we’re dealing with your father. And I give my consent, if Rosemary is in agreement, for you to wed my daughter.” George’s wide smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ll leave it between her and you to lift the final veil on her duplicity. At least I no longer have to pretend to be F.P. Elliott, which is a huge relief. But now that you understand why she did it, I think you can forgive her. Your life with Rosemary won’t be an easy one, but it will be greatly rewarding.”
