Jen Turano - [Ladies of Distinction 02]

by A Most Peculiar Circumstance

“She wouldn’t have even been in jail if someone would have been keeping an eye on her like someone said they’d do,” Theodore said with a scowl back at Zayne.

  Zayne smiled. “At least you can take satisfaction in knowing you’ve helped me discover I’m not meant to be in the investigation business.” He shuddered. “The past two weeks of following my sister around have been a nightmare. I think she might have been on to me almost from the start. She started becoming quite stealthy, as can be seen from what happened tonight.”

  “She’s stealthy, that’s for certain,” Hamilton said. “She didn’t even stick around to tell me what happened to Eliza.”

  “Oh, she’s in the carriage that just arrived,” Zayne said.

  Hamilton didn’t linger. He jumped out the door and neglected to shut it behind him.

  A brisk wind whirled around the interior, prompting Theodore to move off his seat and out into the frigid night. To his disappointment, Arabella was nowhere to be seen.

  She was probably enjoying the attention of that bounder Grayson, and—

  “She doesn’t like him in a romantic way,” Zayne said, climbing out of the carriage.

  “What?”

  “Arabella only sees Grayson as a friend.”

  “I don’t think he sees her that way.”

  “He’s just trying to annoy you, and he’s doing a bang-up job of it,” Zayne said. “Arabella’s not even his type, but I think Grayson finds it amusing to bait you. You turn a very interesting shade of red when he dawdles over her hand.”

  “I do not.”

  “I’m afraid you do.”

  “Your sister and I are not well-suited, at least romantically, and I assure you, my feelings for her are strictly those of a friend.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “You’re the one who pointed out that Arabella and I would kill each other if we spent much time together.”

  “Well, yes, I did, but . . .” Zayne shrugged. “The more I think about it, the more I believe the two of you are well-matched.”

  “We bicker all the time.”

  “Again true, but I get the distinct impression both of you enjoy bickering with each other.”

  Theodore blinked, and then blinked again. He did enjoy his little tussles with Arabella. They were infuriating at times, but also invigorating.

  It gave him pause.

  “Agatha,” Zayne suddenly exclaimed, causing Theodore to turn and grin as Agatha hobbled toward them through the snow on her ridiculously high heels. “I say, you look smashing this evening.” Zayne strode over to her, took her arm, and began helping her up the walk. “That is a lovely gown, and what is the color of the hair you’re currently sporting?”

  Agatha stopped walking, pulled the wig off her head, and thrust it into Zayne’s hand. “Revolting red is how I’ve been thinking of it, and who knew that wigs itched so much? I’m going to have to remember that the next time I go undercover. I imagine dressing as a gentleman would be entirely more comfortable.”

  “After tonight, you should rethink ever going undercover again,” Theodore said.

  “Yes, well, no need to talk about that right now,” Agatha said with an airy flick of her hand. “It’s freezing out here, and I would love a hot cup of tea.” She peered toward the house. “Tell me, was that Grayson I saw escorting Arabella into the house?”

  Zayne stiffened. “It was.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Agatha frowned. “It’s really late, and it’s not as if Grayson comes around all that often.” She suddenly smiled. “I bet he came to see Arabella.”

  Theodore felt his body stiffen. “Why would he do that, and if he had come to see Arabella, why wouldn’t he have left when he learned she wasn’t at home?”

  Zayne laughed. “Grayson spent the evening with Hamilton and me.”

  “Why in the world would Grayson Sumner want to spend an evening with you?” Agatha asked.

  “There are some who find me an amusing companion,” Zayne replied between clenched teeth. “But he was actually tagging along as Hamilton and I worked. Eliza told us he’s been at loose ends lately, and we thought he might have an interest in the railroad business.”

  “Well, no matter,” Agatha said briskly. “I’ve been dying to question him about his time in China, so since he’s here, I think I’ll go join him.”

  “Allow me to escort you,” Zayne said. He took a firm grip on her arm and, with Theodore falling into step beside them, moved as fast as Agatha’s heels would allow up the sidewalk and into the house.

  Theodore smiled his thanks to the butler as the man took his hat, but then winced when he looked up and found Mrs. Watson standing not five feet away from them. Normally, Mrs. Watson was a rather pleasant sort, yet now she looked downright ominous. Her arms were folded over her chest, her cheeks were pink, and her lips were not in their customary smiling position.

  Agatha, who’d bent over to fiddle with one of her silly shoes, took that moment to straighten. She froze for just a second, then smiled. “My goodness, Mother, this is a surprise to find you still here.”

  Cora began tapping her toe against the wooden floor, the sound echoing loudly in the foyer. “Is it? The theater closed hours ago.” Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Given your appearance, I’m almost of the belief you’ve abandoned your desire to become a journalist and replaced it with a new occupation in the opera. Unfortunately for you, I’ve heard you sing.”

  Agatha opened her mouth, but then quickly closed it when a gentleman’s voice bellowed from a room at the opposite end of the hallway.

  “Jail again?”

  “That sounded like my father. I should go check to see what’s keeping Eliza,” Agatha said. She lifted up her skirts, spun on her heels, and bolted out the door before the poor butler could even open it for her.

  Zayne released a dramatic sigh. “I’ll go get her.”

  “You’re leaving me to explain to everyone?” Theodore asked.

  Zayne winked at Mrs. Watson, and then, coward that he was, bolted out the door just as Agatha had done seconds before. The butler hurried to shut it, sent Theodore a sympathetic look, and then he too disappeared through a side door without a single word.

  “Come, dear,” Mrs. Watson said as she held out her arm, waited for him to take it, and strode with him at a rapid clip until they entered a delightful parlor bathed in soft light. He escorted her to the first available chair, helped her into it, and then turned.

  Arabella was standing by the fireplace, obviously warming her chilled skin, while Douglas and Gloria Beckett sat on a chaise by the window, looking at their daughter with clear resignation on their faces. His gaze shifted to Mr. Watson, who was not looking resigned in the least, but furious. Grayson, he saw, was standing by the tea cart, calmly sipping a cup of tea, as if he often found himself in contentious situations. Grayson raised his cup to him and quickly brought it to his lips when Mr. Watson began to sputter.

  “You will explain to me, if you please, Miss Beckett, exactly why you’re dressed in such an outlandish fashion, and why you girls appear to have lied to us regarding plans for this evening.”

  Arabella blew out a breath. “Forgive me, Mr. Watson, but we didn’t actually lie. We were, as you can tell by my dress, at the theater.”

  “I thought they’d taken to the stage,” Mrs. Watson added, “but then I heard you yelling about jail, and all I can think is that they were involved in something shady having nothing at all to do with the theater.”

  Mr. Watson walked over to his wife and patted her shoulder. “Brace yourself, dear, but once again your daughter was arrested, and Miss Beckett just told me they were down at the docks.”

  “Oh . . . my,” Mrs. Watson whispered before she threw up her hands. “Where did I go wrong?”

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you didn’t go wrong.”

  Theodore swiveled around. Violet was standing on the threshold, wringing her hands. He gestured her into the room, but she shook her head.
“I’m fine right here, Mr. Wilder. Eliza insisted me and the girls come into the house instead of waiting for you in the carriage, but it wouldn’t be proper for me to come into the parlor.”

  Another piece of his hardened heart melted away. Why had he never noticed the differences in social stations? Why would any lady feel she was not worthy of stepping into a parlor, as if the room would be tainted by her very presence?

  Yes, Violet was in a profession that was tawdry and unappealing, but she’d probably never been taught any skills to do anything else, and probably hadn’t received any education.

  It struck him then, really struck him, exactly what Arabella had been trying to accomplish.

  She wasn’t some radical lady bent on upsetting the natural order of things. She was a warm, caring woman who wanted to improve the lives of ladies throughout the world.

  He’d blithely told her that she could continue on with God’s plan for her while at his grandfather’s house, but he hadn’t really thought about what that meant.

  It wasn’t a game to her, even if she mistakenly thought she’d been wrong in her pursuits. She was a woman who believed in doing good, doing what God wanted her to do, while he . . . he rarely considered what God wanted from him.

  Something freeing swept over him, but before he could truly contemplate the lightness that had settled in his very soul, Gloria drew his attention when she got up from her seat and strode across the room. She stopped in front of Violet. “You shall join us for tea, my dear.”

  Violet shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I get the feeling you have a story to tell, one that will shed light on what happened tonight, so you will be doing me a service, and in return, you will drink tea,” Gloria said.

  “I told Violet and her friends you would welcome them into your home,” Eliza said, her voice slightly breathless as she appeared to be tugging Sarah and Hannah into the room rather forcefully. “Now then, where shall everyone sit?”

  “I’ll sit with Lottie,” Hamilton said, following Eliza into the room, Lottie hanging on his arm and looking completely delighted by it.

  “I still don’t feel comfortable about this,” Violet said, even as she plopped down into the seat Gloria was pointing at and then plucked at the fabric of her shabby coat, trying to rub at a stain that marked the material.

  Gloria pulled up a dainty chair next to Violet, sat down, and pulled Violet’s hand into her own. Violet looked positively alarmed, but to her credit she didn’t snatch her hand back.

  “For some reason, my dear . . . ?”

  “Violet.”

  “That’s a lovely name, and you may call me Gloria. Now then,” Gloria continued even as Violet’s mouth dropped open, “you seem to be under the misimpression you’re not welcome here or that you don’t belong.”

  “You’re high society, and me and the girls are . . . not.”

  Gloria patted Violet’s hand. “I’m of the belief that all of us are God’s children, and as such we need to treat each other with respect. I hardly think God would be too pleased with me if I didn’t offer you tea, especially since it appears you’ve been in the company of my daughter and Agatha this evening. You’re probably past due for a bracing cup of tea.”

  “Forgive me, Mrs., er, Gloria, but I don’t put much store in God,” Violet said softly.

  Gloria patted her hand again. “Perfectly understandable, dear, but sometimes God presents us with situations that . . . change our way of thinking.”

  “Everything all settled?” Agatha asked as she and Zayne strolled into the room. Theodore couldn’t help but notice that Zayne was still carrying Agatha’s wig, and Agatha had abandoned her shoes somewhere along the way.

  Mr. Watson stepped forward. “Nothing has been settled, and . . . what are you wearing, and . . . is that a dog Zayne’s carrying?”

  “It’s my wig, Father, and I’m wearing an opera dress,” Agatha said with a nod before she walked across the room, kissed her father’s red cheek, and went to stand by Grayson, who passed her a cup of tea before returning to filling the other cups set out on the table.

  Theodore’s annoyance with the man slowly drifted away as he watched Grayson take cup after cup of tea to Violet and her friends, complimenting each and every one of them. Not once did Theodore see a look of derision cross the gentleman’s face.

  He was more compassionate than Theodore had given him credit for, and also more of a threat.

  What woman could resist a gentleman who was handsome, wealthy, and compassionate?

  Arabella suddenly moved from the fireplace and settled down on a comfortable-looking settee. He took one step forward, intent on joining her, but then stopped when Grayson sidled across the room and slid into place beside her. Grayson looked up, sent Theodore a nod, then proceeded to take Arabella’s hand as he leaned in closer and whispered something in Arabella’s ear that caused her to laugh.

  Theodore narrowed his eyes, changed his opinion yet again about the gentleman—and not for the better—and paused as he took another step forward when Zayne caught his eye and winked.

  Theodore changed directions, stalked to the fireplace, and stood there for the next fifteen minutes as Arabella and Agatha explained what had happened throughout the night.

  “Mrs. Wilder will be so relieved to discover Katherine is safe,” Gloria said. “She was quite frazzled when the minutes kept ticking away and none of you showed up back here. I think she only decided to return to her house because, as she barely knows us, she didn’t want us to take note of her increasing distress.”

  “I think my mother is a lot stronger than even I give her credit for,” Theodore said. He tried to keep his gaze from returning to Arabella too often, even though Grayson seemed to have moved closer to her and was still holding her hand. “But now that the events of the night have been explained, and the yelling has finally ceased”—he smiled at Mr. Watson, who, to his surprise, grinned in return—“there is something of a pressing nature we need to discuss: Arabella’s safety.”

  Douglas Beckett walked over and joined him by the fire, as did Hamilton and Zayne. Grayson, he couldn’t help but notice, remained firmly ensconced on the settee and had moved from holding Arabella’s hand to rubbing her shoulder. Theodore stifled the urge to throttle the man, instead turning to look directly at Douglas. He began to explain, telling everyone about his investigation, or lack thereof, in Gilman, and what his concerns were regarding Arabella.

  Five minutes later, he stopped, frowned when Grayson whispered something in Arabella’s ear yet again, and reluctantly forced his attention back to Hamilton, who was saying something he’d apparently missed.

  “. . . and we could hire guards like we did when Eliza’s life was at stake.”

  Theodore frowned. “We might be dealing with trained professionals. That is why I have something a little more drastic in mind.” He nodded to Violet and her friends. “I know I offered you the use of my house tonight, but—”

  “You’ve rethought that, and I can’t say I blame you, Mr. Wilder,” Violet said before he could get the rest of his sentence out of his mouth. “You’re a fine, upstanding citizen of New York, and it would harm your stellar reputation if word got out you let a bunch of old harlots stay under your roof.”

  She was so matter-of-fact about her position in society. He glanced at her friends and found all of them nodding in agreement. His heart gave a lurch, and he vowed then and there that, if nothing else, he was going to do his best to save these women, and hopefully help them find a life that didn’t bring them constant shame.

  “I don’t care about my reputation,” he said. “All I care about is keeping all of you safe, along with Arabella. My grandparents have a farm not too far from here, a few hours at most, and I would be honored if all of you would consent to travel there with me.”

  “But . . . what about Arabella?” Violet asked.

  “She would be coming with us and—”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,�
� Grayson interrupted. “I’ll come too. We’ll make a party of it.”

  Theodore’s vision turned a little red as he watched Grayson smile his too-charming smile at Arabella and then reach up to pull the beauty patch right off her face.

  Enough was enough.

  His feet went into motion without his even realizing it, and before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Arabella and Grayson. He reached down, pulled her up into his arms, and sent Grayson what he could only hope was a terrifying glare.

  “That is kind of you to offer, Mr. Sumner, but I’m afraid your services won’t be needed. I’ll take care of Arabella from now on.” He looked down into Arabella’s eyes. “We’re leaving . . . immediately.”

  16

  It seemed as though she’d been spending quite a bit of her time lately riding in carriages. Arabella shifted on the seat, but stilled when her elbow made contact with Violet’s ribs. “I do beg your pardon, Violet.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. We don’t have much room to sneeze, let alone move.”

  Arabella grinned and looked around the crammed interior of the carriage. Beside Violet, Lottie was dozing with her head against the window, while Hannah and Sarah were sleeping on the other seat, both of their heads pillowed against Theodore’s broad shoulders. He was sleeping as well, and in sleep he looked boyish, nothing like the crazed gentleman who had just five hours ago hustled her out of her house with barely any time to pack.

  He was a good man—temperamental but good.

  Why hadn’t she seen that before?

  Violet leaned close to her and whispered, “I must say, I envy those two. There’s nothing quite like having a strong gentleman to lean against when a lady wants to slumber.”

  Arabella found she couldn’t argue that point, but since her emotions and her mind hadn’t quite reconciled her new feelings for Theodore, she decided it would probably be best to change the subject. “I’m surprised you’re not trying to nap, Violet. It was an exhausting evening.”

  “I’ve never been out of the city before. I don’t want to miss a single thing.”