Jen Turano - [Ladies of Distinction 02]

by A Most Peculiar Circumstance

  While he was quite correct, she did not care for his snippy tone in the least. She plopped her hands on her hips and regarded him with narrowed eyes as an uncomfortable silence settled over them.

  A full minute later, Mr. Wilder rolled his eyes again, put his hands on his hips, and sent her another glare. “Very well, since you seem to be possessed of a stubborn nature—one, by the way, no one in your family made me aware of—I’ll tell you a condensed version of what transpired in New York.”

  “You are too kind.”

  As Mr. Wilder’s dark eyes turned glacial, he ran a hand once again through his hair and finally opened his mouth, speaking so rapidly she barely caught his words. “Hamilton met Lady Eliza at a dinner party held at the Watsons’. He then bailed her out of jail, and when she was dismissed from her position as the Watsons’ governess, he took her home with him where they promptly fell in love.”

  “That’s your condensed version?”

  “I thought it fairly sufficient.”

  It was just like a gentleman to leave out all the pertinent details. “You told me absolutely nothing of consequence, such as why the lady ended up in jail, and why an aristocrat was working as a governess.”

  If anything, his words came out even faster. “She was working as a governess because her fortune was stolen, and she was arrested because she was mistaken for a lady of the night.” He smiled. “I think you and Lady Eliza will get along famously, since both of you seem to have a propensity for attracting trouble.”

  “I do not have a propensity for attracting trouble.”

  Mr. Wilder’s smile widened as he gestured to the cell.

  Arabella forced a smile of her own. “This is the first time I’ve been arrested.”

  “Really?”

  “I do not make a habit of breaking the law, Mr. Wilder. I may occasionally attract unfavorable attention as I work to secure women the right to vote, but the suffrage movement is a peaceful movement, not one that lands me in jail on a frequent basis.”

  “The suffrage movement can hardly be considered peaceful, Miss Beckett,” Theodore countered. “Women are being encouraged to rebel, and that certainly does not lend itself to a peaceful home.”

  It was fortunate for him that there were bars separating them.

  Arabella began tapping her one shoe against the hard floor, immediately stilling when she teetered from the motion. “I encourage women to stand up for their rights, Mr. Wilder. We are held accountable to the same laws as men, and yet we have no say regarding the passage of these laws.”

  “You think all women wish for the same rights as men?”

  “Not all of them, but that stems from a lack of education, which is a direct result of unequal rights.”

  “Most ladies of my acquaintance desire marriage above all else.”

  “You must not have a large group of female acquaintances.”

  A laugh burst out of his mouth, causing her teeth to clench. “How in the world do you expect me to address that statement? Why, if I contradict you, you’ll think I’m a braggart, and if I agree with you, I’ll be a liar.”

  “A braggart would actually be an improvement over the impression I’ve already formed of you.”

  Mr. Wilder let out another laugh and then waved a dismissive hand in the air. “While this is certainly a riveting conversation, I do believe it is past time we addressed your reason for being behind bars, instead of our differing opinions regarding my personality and views on the preposterous suffrage movement.”

  Arabella opened her mouth, found she once again had no words at her disposal, so instead snapped it shut and simply watched him as he began to stalk back and forth in front of the cell. He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re going to have to afford me some explanations.”

  “There really is not much to explain. My arrest was a simple misunderstanding.”

  Mr. Wilder let out a grunt. “That’s what all criminals say. Explain the assault and theft charges.”

  “I didn’t steal anything.”

  “Are you inferring that you did assault four officers?”

  There was just something about the gentleman’s tone that annoyed her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She forced another smile. “Mr. Wilder, forgive me, but are these questions really necessary? Given your reputation, I would assume you are more than capable of securing my release with relative ease.”

  Mr. Wilder took a step closer and, for some strange reason, waved a hand toward the floor.

  She looked at the floor and then back to him. “Surely you’re not suggesting I take a seat?”

  “Miss Beckett, your gown is beyond filthy and the floor will cause it no additional harm. Since you seem to be a difficult sort, and I’m somewhat weary from chasing you around the country, I would like to get comfortable before you begin explaining what happened, and just so we’re clear, explain it you will.”

  She opened her mouth, but before she could get a single word out, the annoying gentleman continued. “Even though you are a most unusual lady, you are still a lady, and it’s been my experience that ladies are notoriously wordy when they begin to explain something, so we should take the weight off our feet and sit down.”

  Realizing that if she responded to that bit of nonsense, he would probably take her response as proof about wordy ladies, she kept her lips tightly shut and plopped down on the cold floor. She folded her mud-encrusted hands demurely in her lap and swore she would not speak a single word until Mr. Wilder apologized for his all-too-pompous attitude.

  2

  The seconds ticked away as Mr. Wilder lowered his large frame to the ground and sent Arabella an expectant look.

  Keeping her lips pressed tightly together, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling, where she began contemplating the mold that resided there. A shiver suddenly caught her by surprise, and then another as the cold from the floor seeped through her sodden gown.

  Her gaze dropped from the ceiling when Mr. Wilder began to mutter something under his breath, even as he pushed himself to his feet, shrugged out of his overcoat, and thrust it through the bars.

  “Put this on.”

  She remained perfectly still. She’d never been one who followed orders well and wasn’t about to start now.

  He dropped the coat, and it settled to the ground beside her. “Don’t be ridiculous, put it on. It’s apparent you’re freezing. I certainly don’t want to have to explain to your brother why I couldn’t bring you back because you died from exposure. You’ve caused me quite enough trouble as it is, and I’m beginning to lose patience with you.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but another shiver stole over her, causing her to snatch the overcoat as she struggled to her feet. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and stifled the urge to sigh in delight as wonderful warmth stole over her.

  The coat was huge and smelled of sandalwood and something that was all male. She snuggled it around her, breathed in deeply, lifted her head, and found Mr. Wilder frowning at her.

  “I need that back.”

  Chivalry, apparently, was definitely dead.

  Her vow to remain silent disappeared in a split second. “You can’t have it back.”

  “I don’t need it for long. I just need something from the front pocket.”

  Arabella reached into the pocket and pulled out a gun.

  “Be careful with that, Miss Beckett. It’s loaded, and I have no wish for you to shoot yourself.”

  “I wasn’t planning on shooting myself.”

  His eyes widened just a touch before they turned hard. “A gun is not a toy. I’ll thank you to hand it to me gently through the bars. It will not help my attempt to get you released if the sheriff discovers you’re armed.”

  He might have a point.

  She moved forward, held out the gun, and couldn’t seem to resist allowing her gaze to wander over him again. Without the overcoat, he really did possess a trim figure and . . . somewhat impressive muscles.
>
  She jumped when his fingers drifted over hers and quickly pulled her hand back through the bars as soon as he took possession of the gun. He shoved it into the waistband of his trousers and then casually stepped away from her, apparently unaware his touch had left her fingers feeling slightly scorched.

  She sank back to the floor and arranged the coat around her, hoping he wouldn’t notice her cheeks were probably flaming.

  What was it about this particular gentleman? He made her uneasy, and it was not a feeling she enjoyed.

  Maybe the events of the day really had affected her nerves.

  Her cheeks cooled immediately and she lifted her head, finding Mr. Wilder once again on the floor, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

  She felt the unusual urge to fidget under his regard.

  “May we finally return to why you’re behind bars?” he asked.

  Her urge to fidget ceased.

  “By all means, Mr. Wilder, let us move this conversation forward. What would you care to know?”

  “I need you to explain the assault charges. Assaulting officers of the law is a very serious offense, one that usually results in a stiff punishment.”

  “I didn’t assault anyone. A pig did.”

  “I see,” Mr. Wilder said slowly. “Very well, let us move on to the theft. From what I’ve been told, a Mr. Brown is insisting you made off with his horse without his permission.”

  “I paid Mrs. Brown five dollars for the use of that nag, which I might add was exorbitant, given the fact I only needed the animal for a brief period of time while I checked on Miss James.”

  “Who is Miss James?”

  Arabella waved toward the cot. “That’s Miss James.”

  Mr. Wilder craned his neck. “May I suggest you wake her so I can get a clear picture of what occurred?”

  It would be exactly what the gentleman deserved if she took his advice and woke Miss James, but she would also be affected by the chaos that would take over the cell if the lady awoke. “That would not be wise, Mr. Wilder. From what I’ve discovered of Miss James, she’s the dramatic sort and prone to hysterics. You’ll get no worthy explanations out of her. It’s best if we allow her to remain sleeping.”

  “May I assume she’s a friend of yours?”

  “I’ve never seen her before today, and quite frankly I’ve been rethinking the whole rushing-to-her-rescue business,” Arabella muttered.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Since it was rapidly becoming clear that Mr. Wilder was not going to negotiate her release until she gave him some type of explanation, Arabella decided she might as well give in and tell him her story. “I was minding my own business at the train station in Chicago when a lady by the name of Mrs. James sat down next to me and burst into tears. She told me that her daughter, Miss Alice James, had run away from home to answer an advertisement for a mail-order bride. Mrs. James was desperate to get some news of her daughter, so I agreed to stop in Gilman, the place the advertisement originated from, and see if I could find the young lady and give her a message from her mother. From what I gathered from Mrs. James, she shares a tumultuous relationship with Alice and was afraid her daughter would refuse to meet with her if she made the trip herself.”

  “Are you in jail because you tried to intercede between Miss James and this groom?”

  “There was no groom to be had. Miss James managed to land herself smack in the middle of what I’ve come to believe is a prostitution ring.”

  Mr. Wilder closed his eyes and began muttering under his breath. When the muttering continued for a full thirty seconds, she felt it was time to move the conversation along. “I believe Miss James was lured here for the express purpose of selling her off to the highest bidder.”

  Mr. Wilder’s eyes flashed open. “Why do you believe that?”

  Arabella shrugged. “From what little I’ve been able to get out of her, she was met at the station by a gentleman who told her he was escorting her to her future husband. When she arrived at a farmhouse about a mile out of town, instead of encountering an eager groom, she was tied to a chair and left there to await her fate.”

  “How do you know she was tied to a chair?”

  Arabella felt the unusual urge to scoot to the opposite side of the cell, even though she was separated from Mr. Wilder by bars. “That’s how I found her.”

  Mr. Wilder leaned forward, and Arabella couldn’t help but notice that a vein was now throbbing on his forehead.

  “You went out to the farmhouse?”

  “How else would I have given Miss James that message from her mother? Unfortunately,” she continued as Mr. Wilder began to sputter, “I did not find Miss James in a happy state, and the situation deteriorated rather quickly.”

  “Should I ask what happened next?” he asked between gritted teeth.

  “Well, not if it’s going to upset you.”

  “I do not get upset.”

  Feeling it would be unproductive to point out the obvious, Arabella curled her legs underneath her. “I’ve come to the conclusion that the gentleman who gave me directions as to where I could find Miss James was most likely in on the dastardly plot. I think he might be the same gentleman who escorted Miss James from the train station, but I can’t swear to that, as I’ve not been able to get much out of Miss James as of yet. I’ve also come to the conclusion that he sent me out to the farmhouse with the same fate in mind for me as was intended for Miss James. I believe it was only due to the fact that God was watching out for me that I was not taken and forced into a life of prostitution.” A shudder caught her by surprise. “I’ve never had a reason to think about such a degrading life, but now, considering what almost happened to me, I shall definitely have to explore options to help women in such appalling circumstances when I get home.”

  “When you get home, you should explore ways to stay out of trouble,” Theodore returned. “But enough about that. Tell me, where did you come into contact with this man who just happened to have the whereabouts of Miss James on hand?”

  “He was lurking around the train station.”

  “And it never crossed your mind that a man who was ‘lurking’ might not be the best source of information?”

  “I didn’t actually think of him as lurking at that particular moment. If you must know, the gentleman was perfectly pleasant and only too willing to assist me. He helped me stow my luggage at the station and told me where I could rent a horse. He then gave me detailed instructions on how to locate the farmhouse and bid me a cheerful farewell.”

  “But things went wrong once you reached the farmhouse?”

  “I must admit that they did, although at first it didn’t appear to me as if anyone was around. I pounded on the door for a good few minutes, and no one ever opened it.”

  “Did it never occur to you to leave when no one answered the door?”

  “I was about to leave when I heard the distinct sound of someone crying from inside the house.” She arched a brow at him. “You cannot tell me you would have left under those circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t have, but I’m a man.”

  “Anyway, I found the door locked, but the crying soon intensified, so I made my way to the back of the house and peered into a window.”

  “Why didn’t you peer into a front window?”

  “They were boarded up.”

  “That didn’t alarm you?”

  She’d be lucky to have any teeth left considering she was quite certain she was grinding them down to mere stubs. “Of course it did, but again, someone was crying, and that someone turned out to be Miss James.” She dropped her head and focused on her mud-splattered gown, knowing perfectly well Mr. Wilder would not react favorably to what she was going to say next. “After I broke the glass in the window to gain entrance, I’d just started untying Miss James when that man burst into the room.”

  “The man who gave you directions?”

  “No, a different man.”

  �
��Miss Beckett, you are not very adept at explaining, are you?”

  She felt the strangest urge to throttle Mr. Wilder, which was odd considering she wasn’t normally the violent type. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but before a single word could pass her lips, Mr. Wilder pushed himself to his feet, stalked closer to the bars, and let out a shrill whistle.

  “Miss James, wake up,” he called.

  Had he not listened to what she’d said regarding Miss James?

  She scrambled to her feet and turned just as Miss James shot upright on the cot, her face already screwed up in an expression that seemed, based on the short time Arabella had been acquainted with the young lady, to foreshadow a hysterical episode.

  At least Mr. Wilder could not claim she hadn’t warned him.

  Miss James let out a ragged sob, but then the lady’s eyes widened as she glanced past Arabella. The sob turned to a sigh, and Miss James smiled and released a giggle. The young lady rose to her feet, shook out her gown, and glided across the room, her goal obviously to get to Mr. Wilder as soon as her dainty feet would allow.

  Arabella spun on her one heel, expecting to see Mr. Wilder’s ever-present scowl, but instead the gentleman was smiling a charming smile and . . . bowing in Miss James’s direction.

  He’d certainly never bowed to her.

  “Miss James, I do beg your pardon for waking you in such an abrupt manner,” Mr. Wilder said, “but I fear Miss Beckett’s thoughts have been addled by her experience. I’m hopeful you’ll be able to give me the answers I so desperately need. I’m Mr. Wilder, at your service.”

  “My thoughts are not addled,” Arabella snapped.

  Mr. Wilder ignored her and took the hand Miss James thrust through the bars, bringing it to his lips in a move that was all too practiced. Miss James giggled again and began batting her lashes.

  “I will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have, Mr. Wilder,” Miss James purred. “I have suffered a truly horrendous day, but I must say that my fears have simply melted away, knowing a big, strong gentleman has come to my rescue.”