“Thanks very much.” Mamie smiled. “Charming little place you have here, Mrs. B. A veritable castle in the middle of nowhere.”
Charming. Count on Mamie to say something no one else in society would dream of. Mrs. B.? Seriously?
“How kind of you, my dear.”
Throughout the room, whispers began to circulate among the guests, like rustling papers passed across a schoolroom.
“Was your journey very tiring?” His mother turned back to Ada, who craned her neck to stare at the huge mural bedecking the ceiling. Geoffrey tapped her shoulder.
Her head came down to a normal height. “Pardon, ma’am?”
“Was your journey very tiring?” his mother repeated, louder this time.
Ada grinned. “No ma’am. Buchanan Railways does it up right and proper every time. Gets you where you need to be in high style and ahead of schedule.”
Geoffrey suppressed a sigh. Hadn’t yesterday’s etiquette lessons taught her anything? Luxury was something his fiancée should accept without question, not exclaim over.
His mother only smiled. “I’m so glad you think so. I’m very proud of my son’s achievements, as you must be, too.”
Ada nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes ma’am. Your son,” she glanced up at Geoffrey, adoration in her eyes, “is a wonder. That’s why I’m head over heels in love with him.”
His mother laughed. “How very sweet, my dear. Unconventional perhaps, but sweet.”
Two words that fit Ada perfectly.
Unconventional—and when she wasn’t fuming at him—very, very sweet.
Chapter 6
Ada hid a yawn behind her napkin. Dinner had been going on for what seemed like an eternity, course after course passed around by footmen wearing wigs. Gracious, those must itch.
From what she gathered, these people had three favorite topics: themselves, their friends, and their money. All of which might make interesting conversation for about ten minutes but became an insomniac’s paradise after more than that.
Such puppets, each a mirror image of everyone else. The women, all alike in their pastel dresses, diamond jewelry, and fascination with gossip. The men, penguins in white waistcoats, bow ties, and black tailcoats. Their conversation was slightly more engrossing, especially talk of the Spanish-American War and their European travels. But when the chatter turned to yachting, she blinked furiously, trying to keep awake.
“J. J. Astor undoubtedly has the finest craft ever to sail the seas. I heard he did a great deal of the design work himself.” One of the men, Mr. Cadwell Rutherford, droned on.
“The furnishings are simply divine, I hear,” commented one of the ladies, a willowy brunette wearing pearl teardrop earrings. Miss Violet Tremaine. Gorgeous enough to appear on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar, she had a face not soon forgotten.
“Have you ever been on the Astor yacht, Miss McClane?” Miss Tremaine turned her gray-eyed stare on Ada. Those eyes… she’d seen them somewhere before. But where?
Ada glanced at Geoffrey. He’d watched her attentively throughout the evening, probably fearing she’d make some terrible faux pas and destroy his plan.
“I have not had that privilege.” She took a sip of wine. “However, I haven’t been in society for many months. I’m sure Geoffrey will take me out on his yacht, won’t you, dear?” She lowered her glass and gave Geoffrey the adoring smile she’d perfected over the past hours. Not that he needed it. All unattached women bestowed upon him equal views of their pearly whites.
“Of course, darling. I’d be delighted to.” He gave her a smile full of promise, so blazing in its intensity that an equally bright flush braised her cheeks.
It seemed so real, the way he looked at her sometimes. He ought to have taken the stage.
“Perhaps tomorrow you could take me for a ride in your motorcar?” A random guess. Did he even have one? What if he hated the new amenity? Everyone but her would know that. Think her either uninformed or a sham.
“I would like nothing more.” He grinned, genuine excitement in his eyes. Another point scored. She’d been right.
Finally, dinner came to an end. The ladies all stood, and Ada followed suit.
The dozen or so women formed a line and proceeded out of the dining room. Why were the men not following? Was it some society tradition for the girls to play follow-the-leader while the men continued to eat?
They entered the library. Forming groups, the women chattered and gossiped in subdued tones while footmen brought around coffee and tea. As if anyone actually needed more to consume.
Ada took a seat by herself in a corner. She’d never been with these people without Geoffrey nearby. What if she said or did something daft and he wasn’t there to warn her?
The twig-thin, tawny-haired beauty, Miss Tremaine, sashayed in her direction. Ada folded her hands in her lap. Her stomach pinched. This woman was up to no good.
“Enjoying the evening?” Miss Tremaine took a seat, fluttering a fan over her face.
Ada nodded.
“But of course you are. What girl wouldn’t be, lavished with the attentions of such a charming man as Geoffrey Buchanan. You must love him very much.” She leaned closer, the overpowering scent of her rose perfume making Ada’s nose twitch.
“More than words can say.”
“I know exactly how you feel. Ever since I first saw Geoffrey, when I was seven years old, I dreamed…” She lowered her lashes and pressed her lips together, with a sigh. “Well, que sera sera. I hope you both will be very happy.”
“Thank you.” Ada had been around females long enough to spot a predator a mile away. Violet Tremaine was one such woman.
“Where did Geoffrey say you two met?”
“New York.” The words slipped from her lips before she realized her error. Newport—not New York. She nearly covered her face with her hands in horror. “I mean Newport. We first met there but became, er, better acquainted later in New York.”
“Mm-hm.” A thousand speculations flashed through the brunette’s eyes. “You don’t happen to know Mrs. Millicent Hayward, do you?”
Yes, but not in the way Miss Tremaine undoubtedly did. Last year, in an effort to earn extra money, Ada had assisted at an enormous fancy dress ball Mrs. Hayward had hosted. A memory flashed through her mind. That’s where she knew her! Violet Tremaine had dressed as Marie Antoinette, and Ada had accidently bumped into her while carrying an enormous tray, nearly dropping the array of cream puffs all over the woman’s ridiculous skirt. Uh-oh. She had to think fast. Violet Tremaine couldn’t remember her, too, could she?
“Of the New York Haywards?” Beneath her gloves, Ada’s palms went damp.
“So you do know her? I thought I recognized you from one of her soirees. She gives the most delightful parties, don’t you think?”
“Divine.” Ada forced a pasty smile. If one didn’t mind that her French chef was a hellion to work for and her butler a lecherous snake.
The door opened and the men entered the room. Ada breathed a sigh of relief as Geoffrey followed the group inside. With more eagerness than warranted for her role, she stood and rushed to his side. Though Miss Tremaine didn’t remember her, she should still stay as far away from the woman as possible.
“Missing me?” Geoffrey placed his hand on her shoulder. The warmth of him radiated through the thin material of her gown. She sucked in a breath. He smelled faintly of vanilla cigars and the men’s cologne that always clung to him. Standing so near made her want to press herself against him, lean into his strength. Feel his arms around her, protecting her from the Violet Tremaines of this world.
Stop. The wine must have muddled her head. She didn’t want to be in Geoffrey Buchanan’s embrace. Wearing a corset so tight must be doing things to her good sense.
“How did you know I liked motorcars?” A smile edged his lips.
“I didn’t. I just guessed.”
“I expect to take you out tomorrow morning. That is, if you’re ready to travel at ridiculous speeds?�
�� His eyes sparked with amusement.
“Oh, I’m ready.” She grinned.
“Not in the least bit nervous?”
She shook her head. “I’ve already trusted my future into your capable hands. One motorcar ride won’t make much difference.”
His laughter teased hers. “I like having you trust me, Ada McClane.”
The admiration streaming from Ada’s eyes gleamed brighter than the shining silver and black leather of the Daimler motorcar parked in the drive.
She clutched her veiled hat with two fingers, the other hand resting on Geoffrey’s arm. In the past days, he’d discovered all the nuances of the hesitant, yet firm way she placed her fingertips on his sleeve. The way she sometimes led, sometimes fell back. Standing so close to her gave him full view of the cute freckles on her nose and the intense green of her eyes.
He stepped to the passenger door of the car and held it open. She didn’t hesitate, as most ladies would have upon their first entrance into a horseless carriage. Instead, she lifted her skirt and jumped in, running her hands over the crisp leather of the seats, studying the controls.
He joined her and closed the door. Slipped on one pair of goggles and handed her the other, while the family chauffer started the car. Again Ada didn’t hesitate, securing them over her eyes. She looked ridiculous, the goggles two sizes too large, but in an endearing kind of way.
“Ready?” He glanced at her.
She nodded, excitement radiating from her.
He made himself comfortable, placing his hands on the steering wheel and his feet on two of the three pedals below. Pressed down hard on the brake and clutch. Released the hand brake then moved one foot to the accelerator. The engine thrummed to life, and he steered them out of the circle drive. Gravel skittered behind them as he took off down the avenue.
Sitting behind the wheel always gave him a sense of freedom. He made the rules, he decided where to go and what route to take. And the barely contained anticipation in Ada fueled his own.
Once on the main road, he gave the car less brake and more accelerator. The wind whipped past them, blowing her veil behind her. She scooted closer on the seat, and he slowed slightly. Had he terrified her? At forty miles per hour, he was going faster than most ladies would find agreeable.
“Why are you slowing down? This is fun. Can we go faster?” she called over the wind.
Who knew that the girl he’d picked to play his fiancée would have tastes so perfectly attuned to his? More so than any other woman he’d ever met. Partner that with an infectious smile and wide green eyes… Ada McClane made quite the attractive package.
Not that he could or should think of her as anything more than an employee.
Certainly not.
He flashed a grin at her and upped their speed. They dashed through the countryside, dirtying the motorcar and streaking their faces with dust. Having the time of their lives.
Finally, he stopped not far from Meadowbrook. He opened the door and handed her out. The stillness of the woods contrasted against the noise and motion of the moments before. He drew in a long breath of pine and damp earth. Far preferable to hothouse flowers and scented candles.
Ada tugged off her veil, shaking her hair back behind her. A streak of dust dotted her nose. He pulled off his gloves and wiped it away. His heart accelerated as he brushed her skin. Softer than silk, the warmth of her breath swooshing over his fingers.
She blinked, her lashes fluttering.
He drew his hand away. Burned by her touch.
“That was fun.” She reached up and gingerly touched her hair.
“Yeah.” More than fun. He hadn’t remembered enjoying anything so much in… he didn’t know when. “It’s strange doing something I love with someone else. Most of the time, I go alone. Nobody else likes my crazy speeds.”
“Strange?” She quirked a brow.
“In a good kind of way.”
She released a sigh, stretching her arms wide. Sunlight tinged the sky overhead, the air touched with the barest hint of breeze. She spun in a circle, head tilted back, her skirt swirling around her. His breath webbed in his chest. He’d seen many elaborate ballets in his day, meant to stir the heart and entice the senses. Yet nothing before had ever transfixed him as Ada’s flying curls and blissful expression did at this moment.
She returned to her normal posture with an embarrassed laugh. “Out here, it’s so easy to believe that there is a Creator who made the universe. In New York, you can forget that sometimes. Everything there is created by man, his money, and power.”
He nodded.
“Do you believe in God?” She cocked her head.
He shrugged. He used to, in the early days after his father died. But lately, it was just easier to do things himself. Without having to worry about the statutes of a God who never approved. Or perhaps, he just didn’t feel worthy of unconditional approval unless he could give something in return. What could you give a God who owned the universe?
Besides, he liked doing things his way, never trusting in anyone but himself. Right?
“I believe there is a God.”
“Do you believe He loves you?” Another rarity in Ada McClane. She wasn’t afraid to ask hard questions and expect answers.
He shrugged. “I don’t really know.” He couldn’t lie to her. Make some offhand remark and end the conversation. With anyone else he could, but not her.
“Well, let me give it to you straight, Geoffrey Buchanan. He does. More than anyone else in the whole world. He died on a cross for the sins of the universe. Yours included. You just have to let Him into your life, let Him love you. And not be too proud to admit you need saving.”
The way she spoke, with such conviction, made him want to believe her. It sounded easy enough. Yet he’d done nothing for God. He had no right to expect anything from Him in return.
“You’re pretty when you smile.” He resorted to his old despised tactic. Flattery.
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t falling for it. Still, she offered another smile. “So are you.” She snatched up her skirts and raced toward the motorcar.
Chapter 7
What in heaven’s name was going on?
Another long dinner at an end, and the men finished with their brandy, cigars, and whatever else they did in the dining room. Ada fidgeted, sandwiched between Mamie and Mrs. Buchanan. Society grande matron and frolicking rich dame had been attempting conversation for the past half hour and failing. Miserably.
More laughter from the opposite end of the drawing room drew her attention. Geoffrey stood beside the sofa where Violet Tremaine sat. She giggled hysterically at whatever he said while he shifted from foot to foot, hands in his pockets. In the center of the room, a few of the younger couples had thrown back the carpets and now waltzed to ragtime on the Victrola.
“Geoffrey, please! For old times’ sake.” Violet gazed up at him, Cupid’s bow lips pursed in a pout.
Ada stiffened. What was Violet begging him to do? She leaned forward, while Mamie loudly explained to Mrs. Buchanan where she’d purchased her orange evening dress.
“You wouldn’t refuse me, would you? I’m sure we could still do it.” She stood and tugged on his arm like a little girl.
Though he still looked uncomfortable, he smiled gallantly. “If you insist. But I doubt I’m any good after such a long time.”
“Nonsense. We won the competition just last year.”
Any good? Competition?
Someone changed the record, and another tune crackled through the air. Ada’s breath caught.
Geoffrey—her fiancé—wasn’t going to dance with Violet Tremaine. The dazzling brunette who could make breathing seem glamorous.
They took the floor.
Apparently, he was.
They launched into a dance, but not just any ordinary dance. Moving from position to position with flourishes and improvisations, Geoffrey twirled and spun Violet across the floor like a professional.
He must be hat
ing every minute of it. His whole purpose for having her here was freedom from other women.
She watched his expressions. No. He couldn’t possibly be… enjoying himself?
Could he? Yes, he smiled and laughed with Violet, spinning her out then dipping her backward. They made an elegant couple, she, willowy and slender, he, tall and muscular. While Ada barely reached his tiepin, Violet came up to his chin and could look straight into his eyes.
Ada balled her hands into fists. She shouldn’t mind this. After all, it gave her a respite from playing the doting fiancée. She could simply relax and watch her betrothed dance with another woman. Except, he wasn’t her betrothed. He was her employer. And after he’d finished with her, he was perfectly free to marry whomever he chose. As long as she got her paycheck, he was welcome to Violet Tremaine, catty and snobbish though she was.
More than welcome to her.
Violet Tremaine was a Grecian goddess. Ada a mere pretty face. Rich men wanted Grecian goddesses, especially if the goddess already possessed the skills for being a society wife.
She closed her eyes. Oh… reality blurred far too much with fiction—the fiction she and Geoffrey had created.
She only had two more weeks to go. Then she’d go home and forget all about this.
Geoffrey Buchanan included.
The dance ended and everyone broke into applause. Ada forced herself to follow suit, pasting on a smile.
Across the room, Geoffrey caught her gaze. He gave her a lopsided grin, and infuriating warmth rushed over her.
She glared back. I am not attracted to Geoffrey Buchanan. I am not attracted to Geoffrey Buchanan.
He grinned again.
She sighed. No help at all.
The confines of the room closed in on her, and she stood. The perfumers must have made a mint off all the different fragrances everyone wore tonight. Some fresh air would clear her head and, hopefully, her brain.
Outside, the cool of the night embraced her, and she leaned against a massive stone pillar, partially concealed by a potted plant. Staring out at the glitter of the stars overhead, as if the Lord had thrown a basket of diamonds upon heaven’s carpet, she drank in a breath.
The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons Page 4
