The Duplicitous Debutante

by Becky Lower

  Her mother was right. If she wanted to seal her relationship with Henry, this dinner, and his sister, might just be the way to get Henry to commit. If she and Marguerite were to become best friends, Henry couldn’t possibly turn his back on their budding romance, could he? If he did, he’d break his sister’s heart every bit as much as he would Rosemary’s. And Henry Cooper wasn’t a cruel man. As the lady’s maid worked on her long hair, fashioning it into a coiled braid wrapped around her head, Rosemary thought of the braid in her chatelaine. She mulled over potential topics of conversation for the evening. She only hoped Henry’s sister would at least be entertaining. She was surprised Henry and Marguerite were so close, since their father had done everything he could to tear them apart. His sister was the favored one. And with the name Marguerite? Rosemary had her doubts if the woman would be of assistance in the advancement of Rosemary’s cause with Henry. But she agreed with her mother that becoming Marguerite’s friend would be helpful, so she was willing to give it a try

  She’d keep both eyes open this evening, and her steak knife at the ready.

  • • •

  Henry had always thought his sister was pretty. True, she didn’t resemble their mother, who had been a true, legendary, beauty, but rather, in a purebred-English kind of way, Marguerite was very pleasing to the eye and had grown to become a lovely woman. However, when he caught sight of Rosemary in the parlor before dinner, he forgot all about his sister. Rosemary’s deep purple dress made her gray eyes deepen in color, and her skin luminescent. He left his sister’s side and gravitated to her, grasping her hand.

  “You are ravishing this evening, Miss Fitzpatrick,” he declared.

  The blush which appeared on Rosemary’s cheeks was not brought about by pots of color at the dressing table. Henry smiled at her reaction to his comment. If she responded as such when fully clothed, he could hardly wait until she was naked in front of him. Her blush would undoubtedly extend from her forehead to her toes. As he leaned over her hand, he picked up her signature scent, and his manhood responded as if it was a bloodhound that had just picked up the trail of its quarry. Not far off the mark, he thought wryly.

  He was going to have her naked in bed with him soon. He’d make certain of it.

  She pulled away from Henry and turned her attention instead to Marguerite. The two women were about the same age and build, so Henry had high hopes they’d get along. They were, after all, the two most important women in his life.

  “You must be Marguerite. Welcome to our home. Mr. Cooper has told me a bit about you, but I’m anxious to hear more.”

  “And I’ve been hearing about you, as well. Henry mentioned that you are now his fencing partner. How much fun is it to go after my brother with a weapon in your hand?”

  Rosemary laughed as she clasped Marguerite’s hand and led her away from Henry for a private conversation. Bits of their conversation came Henry’s way, and he could tell they were talking about mundane things such as how Boston compared to New York, and what Marguerite was interested in. They seemed to be getting along just fine.

  What he hadn’t expected was to be excluded from their conversation as they chattered away. He didn’t appreciate being left out. Well, things would change, after dinner, when he made his big announcement. He’d take back the attention in which his sister was now basking.

  The dinner came and went. Henry had been to enough meals at the Fitzpatrick home by now to realize they employed a wonderful cook, but her accomplishments tonight were barely noticed. As soon as the dessert of apple cobbler was cleared, Henry’s gaze went to George Fitzpatrick, who nodded. Henry stood, raising his wine glass.

  “If I could impose on all of you for a moment, I have some news to share. My sister is so taken with this city after only one day, she’s decided to move here as well. So we’ll hopefully have many more meals together.”

  “Wonderful news!” Charlotte raised her glass in the toast, then faced Marguerite. “New York will love to have you, and you’ll be a charming addition to the city. You’ve already this evening found a friend in Rosemary. She’ll have to introduce you to her friend Dorcas. I’m sure the three of you will have enormous fun shopping and exploring the city together. Where will you be staying?”

  “For the moment, I’ll stay with Henry, in the flat above the publishing house. I’ll find my own lodging soon enough.”

  “But you must stay under the protection of some male figure! Even in New York, we have rules to society. If you don’t want to stay with Henry, you could move in here. We have plenty of extra bedrooms now since some of our daughters have married and left home. Please consider it as a possibility.”

  Rosemary’s heart was beating faster than normal as she explored the ramifications of her mother’s invitation. Having Marguerite here, and counting her as a friend, would ensure that even if Henry dismissed her after finding out she was the real author of the dime novels, she would still have reason to be in his company. She wasn’t by nature a devious or duplicitous person, and was relieved she truly had enjoyed Marguerite’s company. As she glanced over at the woman, Marguerite raised an eyebrow in Rosemary’s direction and smiled.

  Rosemary made up her mind. En garde, Henri. “I’d love to have you move in here, Marguerite. Since my sisters and brothers are getting married and leaving home, it is quite lonely in this big house. But what of your father? Won’t he be all alone in Boston now?”

  Marguerite and Henry exchanged a glance before Marguerite answered. “Yes, he’ll be alone. But he would have been alone anyway, since his goal for me was to marry me off to the highest bidder. So, sooner or later, I would have left his house for another one.”

  Rosemary caught the undertone of bitterness in the statement. She decided to change the subject.

  “I’m so pleased you find New York to your liking. We’ll have to schedule a day to go shopping. I’ll take you to my sister’s dress shop and show you my other favorite places.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Marguerite replied.

  George Fitzpatrick chimed in, “Shall we retire for a brandy in my library, Henry? All this talk of shopping and dresses bores me silly.”

  Henry smiled as he rose along with George. “Brandy it will be, then. I’d think you’d be used to the ladies’ talk by now, what with all the daughters you’ve raised.”

  “Used to it, yes. Comfortable with it, never. I’d much rather talk business. And it seems, for tonight anyway, you are the only one willing to discuss such a weighty topic.”

  • • •

  The chairs scraped across the floorboards as the ladies rose from the table as well.. They settled themselves back in the parlor as Charlotte poured tea for them and led the conversation, discussing the newest gowns from France and her daughter’s dress shop.

  Marguerite glanced at Rosemary. “I don’t know how much free time I’ll have once I get settled in. But Jasmine’s store sounds exciting. I’m always interested to witness other women making a name for themselves in a man’s world. And fashion, even though it’s women who wear it, is still very much a man’s world.”

  “So you are a proponent of women’s rights?” Rosemary’s stomach knotted as she waited for Marguerite’s answer.

  Marguerite brought the tea cup to her lips, took a sip of the fragrant liquid, and held it in her mouth for a moment, adding to Rosemary’s discomfort. She turned to Charlotte. “Lovely tea, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. What kind is it?”

  “Why, thank you, dear. It’s a new blend, just imported from England. But being from Boston, you should know all about tea from England.” Charlotte chuckled.

  Marguerite finally addressed Rosemary, who was still clutching her stomach.

  “The rights of women are why I left home and ran to New York when Henry asked me to come.” Her words were spoken in a tone barely above a whisper, but were extremely loud in Rosemary’s mind.

  Rosemary cast a sidelong glance at Marguerite. “So you’re serious about staying here, and this is more th
an a visit?”

  “I suppose I can tell you and your mother. Father’s idea of my future includes getting married to some stuffy old man and providing him with an heir. We’ve been in disagreement about it for some months now, and Father is at the end of his patience on the subject. He’s threatened to accept the man’s proposal on my behalf and marry me off before the end of summer. In order to gain his approval for the trip, I told Father I’d use it as a holiday to consider the man’s offer. But in actuality, I’ve run away from home, as childish as it sounds. Henry understands I need more from life. We may not have grown up together, but we did share a lot of letters. And we are of a similar mind.”

  Rosemary had a sudden urge to break into the library and plant a kiss on Henry. She finally had the proof she’d been searching for about his stand on women’s rights. He was risking the wrath of his father to give his sister a future she would be happy with. Finally, she could tell him who she really was. As much as she wanted to run to Henry, she sensed a need to focus on Marguerite.

  “So you won’t be going back to Boston anytime soon?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Boston is no longer in my future. Henry and I still need to work some things out regarding my new role in the company. But I will have a role in the company. It is a family business after all. And I’m sure as soon as Father puts the facts together, he’ll come here and insist that I return home and marry the man he’s chosen for me.”

  Rosemary sensed Marguerite’s growing agitation when talking about her father and decided it was time to be a perfect hostess and change the subject. “Tell us about growing up in Boston. I’ve never been there.”

  “Oh, you should visit someday. Boston is so rich in history and tradition. It’s a beautiful city.”

  “So you and Henry enjoyed your childhood there?”

  Marguerite cast a warm glance at Rosemary. “Henry and I had an idyllic childhood. Until our mother died, anyway. Then everything changed.”

  Rosemary placed her hand on her heart. “I’m so sorry. How old were you when she passed?”

  “Only a girl. I was nine; Henry was fourteen.”

  “And shortly after her passing, Henry went to live with your mother’s brother, correct?”

  “Yes. And, other than short visits here and there in the intervening years, I haven’t spent any time with him until now. I was so excited when I found out he was coming home to become a partner in Father’s business. But then Father shuffled him off to New York right away to care for this fledgling company. We barely shared more than a few dinners before he left again.”

  Rosemary caught the rapid eye blinks from Marguerite, and realized her line of questioning had brought the young woman close to tears. She glanced at her mother, in a silent plea for help.

  Charlotte picked up the reins of the conversation. “Well, you’re here now for however long you can stay, and you’ll be able to make up for lost time.”

  Marguerite seemed buoyed by Charlotte’s words. “In fact, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Henry and I want to take Rosemary to dinner tomorrow evening, if it will be all right with you and Mr. Fitzpatrick. We want to try Downing’s Restaurant.”

  “I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Charlotte replied. “Downing’s is a favorite of ours. In fact, one of our daughters, Heather, met her future husband in that particular restaurant one evening, a few years back.”

  “So it already holds good memories for your family. Perhaps we will be able to create some more.”

  Charlotte reached across the space separating her from Marguerite, and patted her hand. “I’m counting on it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Henry placed his napkin on the table and gazed at the two women with whom he was seated. Life didn’t get much better. His two favorite ladies were with him, enjoying a succulent meal of lobster tails, red potatoes, mixed vegetables, and fragrant, yeasty dinner rolls.

  “I declare, every man in Downing’s restaurant tonight is envious of me right now since I’m sitting with the two most attractive women here. You’re right, Miss Fitzpatrick. Downing’s is an excellent choice for dinner. To be able to share the meal with you both only makes it better.”

  Marguerite replied with a smile in his direction. “Dear Henry. You’ve become quite the romantic.” She stage-whispered to Rosemary, “Must be all the time he spent in New Orleans with Uncle Jacques that did it.”

  Henry grimaced. “Well, it certainly wasn’t from being in Boston with Father.”

  “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Fill Rosemary in on our plans, why don’t you? After all, the business is part of the reason we brought her here this evening.”

  “Yes, of course. Forgive me, Miss Fitzpatrick, for allowing talk of our father to dampen this evening. But he is, in fact, the reason we’re making plans of our own. Marguerite has a great head for the details of the business. I’m better at ideas and promotion. So, we’ve decided to head up this branch of Cooper and Son together.” His lips turned up in a wry smile. “Of course, we will have to change the name a bit.”

  Henry was anxious to gauge Rosemary’s expression as his words took hold. Her eyes widened as she turned first to him, then to Marguerite. “How wonderful! Marguerite did hint at this after dinner last night, but I’m pleased to have you announce it officially. So this is why you were so interested in hearing about my sister’s business. I’m thrilled for you both.”

  Marguerite replied, “Together, we are hopeful we can overcome our father’s objections to me having a career as well as a marriage.”

  Marguerite brought some folded correspondence out of her reticule, the paper crackling as she laid the pieces open on the table. “I’ve been going over the accounting books, Rosemary, and I understand you are acting as our liaison for Mr. Elliott. Based on the amount of sales generated for the Harry Hawk series, we want to include him in our future plans.”

  Henry noticed Rosemary’s gulp. “Wha—what kind of plans? You mean you want to continue the Harry Hawk series? Or do you want a different character now?”

  Marguerite grabbed one of Rosemary’s hands and continued. “No, it’s more than that. In Boston, there is a talented group of individuals who have begun a wonderful magazine they call The Atlantic Monthly, where they discuss the goings-on in the city as well as current national events. There’s always a column or two featuring local authors and their work. We want to do the same thing here in New York, and print a chapter at a time of some of our most popular books. And we want to begin by featuring F.P. Elliott’s work. It will, we hope, find new readers for all his stories. We may reissue some of his earlier works if there’s enough interest.”

  Rosemary took a long sip from her water glass. Henry bit his lip as he waited for her reply. Would she now reveal who the real author was?

  She ran her hand over her hair before she replied. “And how will Mr. Elliott be compensated for his contribution? Will you offer a flat rate, or pay royalties based on how many sales you have of the entire magazine each month?”

  Henry grimaced slightly. Perhaps he was mistaken, and there really was a crazy Uncle Frank somewhere in the house. He’d given her an opening a mile wide and she hadn’t ridden through it. Instead, she was all business as usual. He shifted in his seat and glanced at her. Clear, gray eyes stared back at him, expecting an answer. He could detect no sign of any subterfuge.

  “We’re still running the numbers on a couple different scenarios, so I can’t tell you yet how payment will be determined. But is it of some interest? We need to know before we proceed with our plans.”

  Rosemary’s cheeks flushed, and she busied herself for a moment brushing off the tablecloth. “Yes, I think there will be some interest,” she said finally. But before Henry could gloat, she turned to Marguerite and changed the subject.

  “How do you think your father will react to the news that you’re starting up a magazine?”

  She was sidestepping the issue. Again. Henry blew out a small breath in frustration as he answered for his si
ster. “Despite what Marguerite believes, I have no doubt the news of her joining me here on a permanent basis and starting up the magazine will tip him over the edge, and he’ll remove me as head of the company and sell it. But, thanks to your father, we have a plan of our own in place, as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Marguerite and I visited your father a few days ago and presented our business model to him. He has offered to fund our endeavor if it plays out as we expect it to.”

  “So your father will have no stake in this new magazine?”

  “Not if we can help it.” Henry growled in response.

  “Oh, Henry, don’t let your feelings for Father upset our evening.” Marguerite leaned over and patted his hand. “Father may be old-fashioned in his ideas on what a woman’s role is, but he’s basically a good person.” The two siblings glared at each other.

  Rosemary glanced from one to the other, then around the room, searching for an avenue of escape. “Oh, look. Mr. Downing just came in. I’ll go say hello.” She rose from the table and walked toward the back of the restaurant. Henry had risen when she had, but sat again. He addressed his sister.

  “At least Miss Fitzpatrick had the good manners to excuse herself from our discussion. After I promised myself we would not sully the evening by discussing Father, here we are, doing just that. You and I will never see eye to eye on the subject. ‘Good’ people, as you refer to him, don’t ship their young sons off to someone else to raise.”