Jen Turano - [Ladies of Distinction 02]

by A Most Peculiar Circumstance

  Annoyance slid over her. “Would you prefer I discuss something besides the weather?”

  “No, the weather is a fine topic of conversation, much more preferable than the suffrage movement.” He shuddered. “I must say I’ve heard enough about that to last me a lifetime.”

  He really was insufferable.

  “Do you think it will begin to snow before we reach our respective homes?” he asked.

  He really was going to continue discussing the weather.

  “Ah, well . . . perhaps” was all she could think to reply.

  “Well, that topic didn’t occupy us for long, did it?” Theodore gestured to her dress. “May I remark that the gown you’re wearing today is quite lovely? I must admit that purple certainly does seem to bring out the blue of your eyes, and your matching hat does wonders in hiding the deplorable state of your hair.”

  She blinked. Not once in the entire time they’d spent together had he ever given her a compliment. Granted, he hadn’t seemed able to resist pointing out the condition of her hair, but still . . .

  Maybe he was coming down with something.

  “I wore this gown two days ago.”

  “Did you? Then I must apologize for not speaking up then and telling you how delightful it looks on you.”

  “Two days ago, you barely spoke a word to me, except to tell me I was taking too long with the newspaper.”

  “I escorted you to that general store when the train made a stop.”

  “True, but you didn’t actually speak while you escorted me.”

  Theodore looked at her for a long moment and then leaned forward. “Miss Beckett, I do beg your pardon if you found me a less-than-pleasant traveling companion. I readily admit my mind has been occupied with other matters, namely what is transpiring in Gilman. Throw in the nasty business of fending off Miss James’s advances, and I probably have not been at my best. Allow me to make up for my disgraceful lack of attention toward you. I promise to discuss anything within reason that you care to discuss during the time we have left together.”

  He really must be coming down with something.

  She felt her lips twitch. “You would discuss the suffrage movement with me?”

  “I would much rather discuss ladies’ fashions, the ingredients for assembling a cake, or even the many ailments that plague people, but since you do not seem to like conversing on subjects the majority of ladies enjoy, then yes, I will discuss, or at least listen to, your views on the suffrage movement once again.”

  His words stung.

  She enjoyed the latest fashions as much as the next lady, and while she was not overly proficient in the kitchen, she did know how to bake a cake.

  Yet he did have a point. Every single time they’d attempted to converse, she’d brought up her cause and . . . good heavens, she’d somehow managed to become a bore.

  It was little wonder he hadn’t wanted to engage in conversation with her during the past few days. He’d probably been lulled almost to the point of slumber, which certainly would explain all the naps he’d taken.

  She needed to bring up a topic for conversation they both would enjoy, but her mind was a complete blank.

  “Tell me, Miss Beckett,” Theodore began, breaking the silence that had settled over them. “I noticed you carry a yellow parasol with you quite often, and that parasol, interestingly enough, is trimmed in pink. May I assume it was a gift, and that you hold it dear to your heart?”

  For some reason, she got the impression he found it odd that she would own anything with pink on it.

  She reached down and plucked up the parasol in question. “I purchased this adorable parasol in a small shop while I was staying in California. The reason I carry it so often is because I absolutely adore the color pink.” She twirled the closed parasol around for a second and frowned. “I had a gown made up to complement this parasol, but alas it was destroyed by my encounter with that dastardly pig.”

  “Very good, Miss Beckett, that was a subject of conversation that any normal young lady would have brought up, except for the ‘dastardly pig’ part, that is.”

  She eyed the parasol and couldn’t help but wonder if it would survive intact if she used it to give Mr. Wilder a good wallop.

  “I must admit that you’ve taken me by surprise with your admission that you enjoy pink,” Theodore continued, completely oblivious to the fact she was longing to do him bodily harm. “Pink is not a color I would normally associate with you.”

  She laid the parasol back on the floor, just far enough away from her that it wouldn’t be a temptation. “And exactly what colors do you associate with me?”

  “I think bold colors suit you, like red or . . . black.”

  She tilted her chin. “Black is not a color.”

  “But it suits you.”

  “I’ve never worn black in your presence, something you would know if you’d actually been paying attention to me. What color did I wear yesterday?”

  “Yellow.”

  She bit her lip. He was right, she had worn yellow yesterday. She tilted her chin. “What about the day we met?”

  He laughed. “Miss Beckett, surely you realize that given the fact you were covered in mud, I can’t really say what color you were wearing.” He grinned. “But since it appears we have descended into bickering over what I thought would be a safe subject, may I suggest we move on to discuss anything of note you read in the paper?”

  She lifted her chin. “I did read about a rally that is to be held in Central Park, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the pesky details.” She gritted her teeth when he had the audacity to send her a charming and all-too-attractive grin. “However,” she said, reaching for the newspaper and shaking it open to page three, “I must admit I found this article on the clothing mills extremely well-written. It’s by a Mr. Alfred Wallenstate, and he has a wonderful way with words.”

  Theodore’s grin disappeared in a split second. “May I see that?”

  Arabella handed him the paper and watched as he disappeared behind it, reappearing a moment later with a frown on his face.

  “Did you not appreciate the story?” she asked.

  “It is well-written.”

  “And that disappoints you?”

  “It does,” Theodore admitted. “If you must know, Mr. Wallenstate is actually Miss Agatha Watson, and I readily admit I did not realize she possessed so much talent.”

  “May I assume you are known to this Miss Watson?”

  “She is a dear friend of your new sister-in-law, Eliza, and I must tell you now, she is trouble. I encouraged her to abandon her quest to become a journalist, but as you can see, she didn’t heed my advice. I wonder what her father makes of the fact his daughter is behaving in a manner hardly suitable to her social status.”

  “I would hope her father is proud of her. She has a true gift.”

  “She is taking a job away from a man who could have penned just that article. Miss Watson has no need to earn funds. She has a wealthy father to provide for her, and besides that, she is an attractive woman and holds an enviable position in society. She would have no difficulty finding a husband if she would only put aside her strange notions regarding a profession and behave in a more ladylike manner.”

  “You believe she should abandon her talent and settle for marriage?”

  “You say that as if it’s a horrible fate.”

  Arabella straightened in her seat. “Did you ever consider the fact that God blessed Miss Watson with a talent for the written word, and perhaps He expects her to put that talent to use? If you ask me, Miss Watson, through insightful writing, has brought to attention a condition in the clothing mills that most people know nothing about.”

  “I think God created man in His image and expects men to lead, while He created women to remain in the background and raise children while being a source of comfort to men.”

  She eyed the window and wondered if she’d suffer a horrible death if she flung herself out it.

 
; Theodore chuckled. “I see I’ve finally rendered you speechless.”

  She drew in a breath. “I cannot believe my brother thought it was a good idea to have you come after me.”

  “Your brother isn’t the one who approached me; your mother did.”

  Horror was swift. “My mother—as in Gloria Beckett—asked you to come fetch me home?”

  He nodded. “She thought you might want to be present at your brother’s wedding.”

  “Which is certainly understandable, and yet . . .” Arabella squared her shoulders. “May I inquire how she was acting when she made her request?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was she perhaps a little . . . giddy?”

  “Ah, well, no, I wouldn’t say she was giddy,” Theodore said slowly. “She was extremely grateful, but not giddy.”

  “Of course she was,” Arabella said before she let out an unladylike snort. “I love her dearly, but honestly I’d thought she’d gotten past her unfortunate habit of meddling, at least in regard to me.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

  Arabella bit her lip. “What did she tell you about me?”

  “She told me you were possessed of a pleasant disposition and that you were absolutely delightful.”

  “And you didn’t find that odd?”

  “Not at the time. Most mothers do proclaim their daughters to be delightful.”

  “But now?”

  His lips twitched. “I think Gloria might have slightly exaggerated how well-behaved you are, and she certainly neglected to tell me about your propensity for getting into trouble.”

  “Why do you think she did that?”

  Theodore’s eyes widened. “Surely you’re not suggesting she was trying her hand at matchmaking, are you?”

  “I’m afraid there is no other explanation.”

  “But your mother knows me fairly well.”

  “Hmm . . . then this is peculiar, because, forgive me, Mr. Wilder, but you are the last gentleman on earth I would ever consider as a potential spouse. If my mother truly does know you, she would realize that.”

  “I am considered one of the most eligible bachelors in New York.”

  She stifled a grin at his surly tone of voice. “Of course you are, Mr. Wilder. You’re from a prominent family, attractive in a manly sort of way, and you enjoy an exciting career. I’m certain there are ladies flocking to your side at each and every society event you attend.” She frowned. “Speaking of society events, why do you suppose, given the fact you’re friends with Zayne, we have never met?”

  “I try to avoid society events whenever possible,” he admitted slowly. “Matchmaking mothers always seem to have me in their sights, and since I have no desire to marry anytime in the near future, it’s better for my digestion if I simply avoid those particular situations. Quite honestly, I prefer to spend my time working or relaxing at my club.”

  “May I presume no ladies are allowed at your club?”

  “I knew it would be difficult for you to go more than ten minutes without bringing up something that pertains to your cause.”

  And here she’d almost been enjoying his company.

  “Ah, feel that?” Theodore asked before she could think of a clever retort. “The train is slowing. We’re almost home.” He picked up the newspaper still lying on his lap and held it up. “Would you like me to dispose of this for you?”

  A thread of annoyance slid through her at his now-jovial tone. Apparently, he was thrilled to soon part ways with her. She held out her hand. “I actually need that back. I didn’t jot down the specific date and time of that suffrage rally I mentioned.”

  He handed the paper to her. “Don’t you ever get tired of going to those?”

  “Not when there’s so much work still left to be done to get women the right to vote.”

  “When is the rally?”

  “I believe it’s sometime next week in Central Park.”

  “I might be able to go.”

  She suddenly felt a little warm. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll have to look at my schedule, and hopefully I’ll be in town, but if you’d like, I could escort you there.”

  “You want to go to a suffrage rally?”

  “Of course not,” he said with a smile before he sobered. “But I still have grave concerns over what happened in Gilman, and I’m not certain you’re out of danger quite yet. You shot a man, and it’s been my experience that men who’ve been shot have a desire to seek revenge. A rally is a perfect spot for someone to ambush you, and since I went through so much trouble to bring you back, I’d hate for someone to harm you. That would make my efforts all for naught.”

  Temper replaced the warm, fuzzy feeling of a moment before. Good heavens, what could she have been thinking?

  It was not as if he’d shown any interest in her, so why in the world was she feeling a touch disappointed that he only wanted to attend the rally with her to keep her safe, not because he longed to be in her company?

  Before she could contemplate that to satisfaction, the train shuddered to a complete stop. Theodore stood, extended her his arm, and then hustled her out into Grand Central Depot.

  5

  Arabella, darling, I’m over here.”

  Arabella stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck, scanning the throngs of people that bustled around Grand Central Depot. A grin teased the corners of her mouth when the sight of her mother came into view. Her grin widened as she realized Gloria had climbed on top of someone’s luggage and was waving madly in her direction, completely oblivious to the owner of said luggage’s less-than-pleased look.

  Arabella dropped her hold on Theodore’s arm and took off into the crowd, her pace increasing with every step. Muttering an apology after stumbling against a burly gentleman, she squeezed through a group of ladies, who sent her exasperated looks and barely glanced at another gentleman tipping his hat to her, until she finally found herself snatched into her mother’s embrace. She breathed in the familiar scent of Gloria Beckett’s perfume and felt tears sting her eyes.

  “Thank the good Lord you’re safe,” Gloria exclaimed as she took a step back and swiped at her own face with a lace handkerchief. “I didn’t know what to think when I received that telegram from Mr. Wilder. Jail, Arabella?”

  “It was completely unintentional.”

  “Of course it was, darling,” Gloria said before she pulled her close for another hug. “You can tell me all about it once we get home. I have a feeling you’ll only be able to do justice to the story over a bracing cup of tea.” Gloria released her, stepped back, and looked over Arabella’s shoulder. “Where is that charming scamp I sent after you?”

  Her mother really did have her heart set on matchmaking, so much so that she was seemingly willing to cut their tender reunion short.

  “I lost that ‘charming scamp’ in the crowd, but he’s certain to turn up soon. Bad pennies always do. But before he gets here, Mother, you and I need to come to an understanding. Mr. Theodore Wilder is not for me. You need to stop, immediately, with whatever scheming you’ve got rattling around that diabolical mind of yours.”

  Gloria blinked innocent eyes back at her. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. Of course you and Mr. Wilder would never suit. The mere idea is preposterous.” She reached out and rubbed Arabella’s arm. “I do believe you must be suffering a great deal of fatigue from your stint in jail.”

  “At least I can still make the claim, as can Hamilton, of never being incarcerated.”

  Arabella turned and found herself swept off her feet, her brother Zayne crushing her in a bone-jarring hug.

  “Zayne, you’re squeezing me too hard,” she mumbled.

  Zayne set her on her feet and released his hold on her, brushing a lock of burnished brown hair out of his eyes and shaking his head. “You, my independent yet exasperating sister, have worried everyone endlessly. Would it have killed you to have sent us word regarding where you were headi
ng or when you expected to return to town? We were stunned to receive that telegram from Theodore telling us you’d been arrested.”

  “But . . . didn’t he explain that he’d gotten me released?”

  “Would we be waiting for you here if he hadn’t?” He switched his attention to something behind her and grinned. “Ah, there’s the gentleman of the hour. Now we’ll finally be able to get all of our questions answered to satisfaction.”

  Arabella wrinkled her nose, even as her gaze settled on Theodore, who was striding toward them. She couldn’t help but notice how the crowd simply disappeared around him, making it possible for him to walk at a rapid clip without interruption.

  She tore her attention away from him. “Just so you know, Zayne, I’m perfectly capable of explaining my adventure to satisfaction. There’s no reason to badger Mr. Wilder, and . . .” Her voice trailed off as Zayne, apparently unaware she’d been speaking, moved forward and then laughed as he and Theodore shook hands and even hugged, as if Theodore were the returning hero no one had seen for ages.

  She certainly hadn’t been greeted quite so enthusiastically. Admittedly, her mother had clearly been thrilled to see her, but . . . she had the sneaking suspicion Gloria was just as thrilled to see Theodore, especially given the fact her mother was currently bustling over to the gentleman, her face wreathed in a wide smile.

  Arabella trudged after everyone, coming to a stop beside Zayne just as her mother let out a tinkling laugh when Theodore picked up her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

  “My dear, dear boy,” Gloria exclaimed as Theodore released her hand. “Douglas and I can’t thank you enough for returning our sweet Arabella to us.” She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “We were hoping of course you’d get her back in time for the wedding, but alas it’s hardly your fault she uncharacteristically became embroiled in a concerning matter.”

  Her mother, bless her heart, had not listened to a word she’d said. She was still intent on a bit of romantic maneuvering in regard to Mr. Wilder. Why else would she attempt to give the gentleman the impression it was uncharacteristic for her daughter to get into trouble?