Out of the Ordinary

by Jen Turano

  “You’re very tenacious with this idea about me owing you a favor, aren’t you?”

  Instead of replying, Miss Flowerdew rose to her feet and moved closer, her gaze traveling over Gertrude with eyes that were far too sharp for Gertrude’s liking.

  “You’ve landed yourself in a pickle, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to claim I’m in a pickle.”

  “You’re obviously stuck to the couch, which certainly constitutes being in a pickle.”

  “I suppose it does,” Gertrude admitted.

  “How fortuitous,” Miss Flowerdew chirped before she began pacing back and forth in front of Gertrude, seemingly sizing up the situation. Stopping, she arched a delicate brow Gertrude’s way. “How did it happen?”

  “I lost my balance trying to get a . . . ah . . . closer look at the painting hanging above this very couch. Then, to add insult to injury, my bustle broke, evidently from the force of my fall, and pieces of it pierced the couch. I don’t want to move because I’m afraid I’ll ruin the upholstery if I do.”

  Tapping a toe against the floor, Miss Flowerdew looked from Gertrude to the painting hanging behind the couch, then back to Gertrude again right as her eyes widened. “Forgive me, Miss Cadwalader, but I must tell you that your current situation seems to be more ominous than curious. Why, the only reasonable explanation that springs to my mind to explain why you would have needed to peruse that painting so closely is that you’re a thief but got foiled in your attempt to steal that painting by gravity.”

  “Good heavens, Miss Flowerdew, get ahold of yourself. That’s a completely ridiculous conclusion, especially since it would be next to impossible for anyone to make off undetected with a painting of that size.”

  “So you were considering the matter.”

  Gertrude’s brows drew together. “No, I wasn’t, I was . . . oh, never mind. Allow me to simply say that I’m not a thief, nor was I attempting a heist on Mr. Sinclair’s yacht.”

  Ignoring everything she’d just said, Miss Flowerdew began pacing again, stopping a few seconds later to look Gertrude’s prone form up and down. “Do you have so much fabric making up your skirt because that’s where you stash your ill-gotten gains?”

  “Of course not, especially since, again, I don’t spend my time as a thief but only as a companion to Mrs. Davenport. If you must know, she’s responsible for the gown I’m wearing, and she used extra yards of fabric because of the questionable bustle she designed for me.”

  Miss Flowerdew released a sniff. “A ridiculous explanation if I ever heard one.”

  “It may be ridiculous, but it’s true. And, it’s also an explanation I’ll be able to prove once I get unstuck from this couch. I’ll then be able to show you the bustle in question, and then you’ll be extending me an apology, one I richly deserve since you’ve now taken to questioning my integrity.”

  Turning her back on Gertrude, Miss Flowerdew walked across the room and retook her seat. Considering Gertrude with narrowed eyes, she finally gave a short jerk of her head. “Very well, let me see this so-called questionable bustle.”

  “I can’t very well show it to you since, if you’ve forgotten, I’m stuck. You’ll have to assist me with getting unstuck first, and then I can prove my innocence.”

  Miss Flowerdew suddenly smiled. “Which brings us directly back to the beginning of our conversation, one that, if you’ve forgotten, dealt with you being in my debt. I’m perfectly willing to assist you, however, it will come with a cost—that cost being your agreement to assist me in the foreseeable future with a little matter that’s very dear to me.” Her smile turned smug. “Since the question has arisen regarding your reason for being on the couch in the first place, a question that I’m sure you’re going to want to keep hush-hush, I suggest you agree to my terms.”

  “That sounds a little like blackmail.”

  Miss Flowerdew tapped a gloved finger against her chin. “It does at that, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not one to give in to demands, Miss Flowerdew, especially since I’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant a blackmail demand in the first place.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Miss Flowerdew settled back into the chair. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too cheeky to fit the expectations of a wallflower?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that there’s not actually a society known as the wallflowers—it’s simply a derogatory name for a group of lovely young ladies who aren’t considered as fashionable as society wants them to be?”

  Miss Flowerdew completely neglected to respond to that, choosing to beam another bright smile Gertrude’s way instead. “My goodness but we do seem to have gotten distracted from the business at hand. And since we are missing out on the festivities that are occurring above board, allow me to redirect our conversation to the important matter I need to broach with you.”

  Sitting forward in the chair, Miss Flowerdew suddenly looked far too earnest. “I’d like you to personally introduce me to the oh-so-delicious Mr. Harrison Sinclair, and then I want your promise that you’ll do whatever is in your power to convince him to offer me a proposal of the matrimonial type.”

  Chapter

  Two

  For a brief second, Gertrude forgot she was attached to the fainting couch and tried to sit forward, stilling when another ominous rip met her efforts. Refusing a sigh, she quirked a single brow Miss Flowerdew’s way. “Forgive me, but why in the world would you think I have the type of influence with Mr. Sinclair that would allow me to sway him in the matter of marriage to you?”

  Miss Flowerdew folded her hands primly in her lap. “Don’t be coy, Miss Cadwalader, it does not become you. Surely you must realize that talk is rampant throughout society regarding your recent association with Mr. Sinclair. In all honesty, talk of the two of you was heard in the very best salons all the way over in Paris last month.” She smiled. “The recent adventures you’ve evidently shared with the gentleman are common knowledge. And because of those adventures, and because you’ve been seen in Mr. Sinclair’s company quite often as of late, you’re the perfect person to convince Mr. Sinclair that I would make him a more than suitable wife.”

  Gertrude blinked. “I’m currently the subject of the gossips within society?”

  “Indeed, which is quite the boon for you if you ask me.” Miss Flowerdew’s smile widened. “Why, society is all agog over your association with such a dashing gentleman. But tell me, is it really true you were trundling around the city dyed an unusual shade of orange?”

  Gertrude gave an airy wave of a hand. “While I know it must seem downright riveting that a person can become orange, it wasn’t nearly the intrigue society is apparently making it out to be. My companion, Mrs. Davenport, was curious about what would happen if she applied a certain stain to my skin, and unfortunately, instead of giving me a sun-kissed look, it turned me orange.”

  Miss Flowerdew settled back into the chair. “Which is peculiar to be sure, but lends credence to the idea that you and Mr. Sinclair must enjoy a true friendship since he evidently wasn’t bothered by your condition and was perfectly willing to be seen out and about with you.”

  “I suppose we do enjoy a friendship, but—”

  “Is it also true that Mr. Sinclair saved your life from that madman who was trying to do in Mr. Asher Rutherford?” Miss Flowerdew interrupted.

  “I suppose he did intervene on my behalf and save me from a nasty death, but simply because a gentleman saves a lady’s life, that doesn’t mean that particular lady is then in a position to encourage said gentleman to begin courting another lady.”

  Miss Flowerdew’s smile faded as her lips formed an O of surprise. “Good heavens. Why didn’t I see this at once? You’ve grown fond of Mr. Sinclair, what with all the time you’ve spent with him, and are reluctant to agree to assist me because you want to secure his romantic affections for yourself.”

  An immediate denial formed on Gertrude’s tongue, but for some reason, she could
n’t get that denial past her lips.

  While it was true she’d spent time in Mr. Harrison Sinclair’s company of late, what with them having mutual friends in Mr. Asher Rutherford and Miss Permilia Griswold, she’d not actually allowed herself to dwell on the affection she might have begun holding for Harrison.

  That he was a fascinating gentleman, there was no question, but he was not the type of gentleman an ordinary woman such as herself should ever view in a romantic fashion.

  Harrison Sinclair was a man possessed of rakish good looks and a wonderful sense of humor. He was also in possession of an extensive fortune, one that was responsible for New York society deciding he was soon to become the most eligible gentleman in New York, especially since Mr. Asher Rutherford was now engaged to Permilia and firmly off the . . .

  “. . . and while I do hope that I won’t hurt your feelings, dear, you must realize that a man of Mr. Sinclair’s caliber might be a touch out of your . . . ah . . . well . . . no need to go into specifics since I’m sure you’re only too aware of what I’m about to point out.”

  Shaking herself from her disturbing thoughts, Gertrude opened her mouth, but was spared a response when Miss Flowerdew hitched another smile in place and continued speaking in a rapid manner, as if she’d realized she might have insulted the very woman she was hoping to coerce into helping her.

  “Do know that I completely understand and sympathize with the tender affections you’ve apparently formed for Mr. Sinclair, because he is a most delicious gentleman. But you seem to be a most practical sort, and that practicality, Miss Cadwalader, is exactly why I feel comfortable broaching this subject.” Miss Flowerdew smiled her brightest smile yet. “Mr. Sinclair has become quite fashionable of late, even given his somewhat unusual fashion sense, which means he has the attention of diamonds of the first water.” With that, she stopped talking and batted expectant lashes Gertrude’s way.

  “And I’m not a diamond of the first water?” Gertrude finished for her when Miss Flowerdew remained silent.

  A tinkle of laughter greeted that response before Miss Flowerdew clapped her hands. “I knew you would catch my meaning without me having to spell it out for you. Now that we’ve gotten that pesky business settled, may I dare hope you’re in a more accommodating frame of mind and are now willing to pave my way toward a more intimate association with Mr. Sinclair?” She smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt. “In all honesty, I’m doing you a favor since I’m certain other society ladies will soon be seeking you out, pestering you relentlessly to convince you to assist them with becoming better known to Mr. Sinclair.”

  Before Gertrude could respond to that bit of nonsense, Miss Flowerdew rose ever so gracefully from her chair and began strolling about the room, stopping in front of a bookshelf filled with leather-bound books. Trailing a finger down one of the spines, she turned. “I must say, Mr. Sinclair certainly does have a well-appointed library, filled with what are obviously expensive objects. Makes me wonder if his wealth is more substantial than anyone knows.”

  As soon as those telling words spilled from Miss Flowerdew’s lips, Gertrude understood exactly why she was reluctant to agree to the lady’s request.

  Miss Flowerdew didn’t want to pursue Harrison because he was a commendable gentleman, but instead only longed to attach her name to his because he could offer her a life of luxury, one she could then flaunt to other members of society. Simply put, Miss Flowerdew was proving herself to be anything other than a pleasant young lady—which meant she did not deserve a gentleman like Mr. Harrison Sinclair.

  Harrison, even though he was one of the most handsome gentlemen of the day, possessed a kind nature, one not often found in men with such dashing good looks.

  That kindness, aided by the fact that he had not a hint of vanity in him, was incredibly appealing, and certainly wasn’t meant to be spent on ladies who cared more for his fortune and handsome face than his caring attitude and willingness to befriend a wallflower who just happened to be orange the first time he met her.

  “Do you suppose Mr. Sinclair would be agreeable to suggestions pertaining to his wardrobe?” Miss Flowerdew asked, pulling Gertrude immediately back to the disturbing conversation at hand.

  “You don’t care for how Mr. Sinclair dresses?”

  Miss Flowerdew waved off the question. “His sense of style is somewhat peculiar, given that he pairs the most unusual colors together. I also believe he’d look more refined if he visited a barber on a weekly basis, which would take care of the windblown look he seems to favor with that overly long, dark hair of his.” She smiled. “I will admit that Mr. Sinclair looks very refined this evening in his formalwear, something I’ll be certain to point out to him later in the hopes it will encourage him to adopt that style more often.”

  Gertrude’s lips began to curve. While Harrison was presently looking well turned out, she was all but convinced that was a direct result of Mr. Asher Rutherford, owner of Rutherford & Company, providing Harrison with clothing for the night. Asher had also provided Harrison with a length of black ribbon to secure his unruly locks, that ribbon pulled from one of Asher’s always-well-stocked pockets after he’d realized his friend had used a scrap of fabric from someone’s petticoat—most likely a scrap that had belonged to one of his three sisters—to tie a bow at the nape of his neck.

  In all honesty, even with Harrison resembling a most dashing man-about-town this evening, Gertrude was slightly disappointed he wasn’t wearing so much as a hint of purple, pink, magenta, or any other vivid color he was known to favor. His fondness for unusual color combinations frequently raised a few eyebrows, but in Gertrude’s opinion, she found that idiosyncrasy charming since it suited Harrison’s true character.

  “Ah, Gertrude, there you are. I was getting worried when I noticed you missing from the festivities and realized that Mrs. Davenport was missing as well, a sticky situation to be sure, but . . . goodness, Miss Flowerdew, what in the world are you doing down here?”

  Turning her head toward the door, Gertrude found Miss Permilia Griswold walking into the library. She was looking beautiful, garbed in an exquisite gown of delicate lavender silk trimmed with small feathers. Her red hair was twisted in a sophisticated knot on top of her head, and a diamond choker encircled her neck, one her father had sent her from Paris a few weeks before, a token of apology for his being unable to attend her engagement festivities.

  With only a small frown sent Gertrude’s way, Permilia continued walking across the library, not stopping until she was directly in front of Miss Flowerdew, who was in the process of retaking her seat.

  Miss Flowerdew, unfortunately, was already cocking her head to the side and regarding Permilia in a far too considering fashion. “Did you just say that Mrs. Davenport has gone missing? And, if that is indeed the case, why, pray tell, hasn’t everyone been alerted to the situation? If you’ve forgotten, we’re on a ship, Miss Griswold, in the ocean at that, and if the poor dear has fallen overboard, well, she’s probably done for by now.”

  Instead of answering her, Permilia moved to the chair beside Miss Flowerdew and sat down, taking a long moment to rearrange her skirts. She finally lifted her head and smiled.

  “It’s so refreshing, Miss Flowerdew, to learn you’re the type of young lady who worries about the well-being of others, but rest assured that Mrs. Davenport has not fallen overboard. She occasionally suffers from a small state of confusion, that state soothed, or so I believe, by, er . . . wandering. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon, just as I’m sure she’s probably in the galley since I have found her moseying around kitchen areas before when she’s suffering from, er, confusion.”

  Miss Flowerdew leaned forward. “I’ve never taken Mrs. Davenport for one of those dear, dotty ladies who suffer from confusion.”

  “Since I’ve never observed you spending much time, if any, in Mrs. Davenport’s company, I’m not surprised,” Permilia replied sweetly. “But, enough about that. I don’t believe you ever answered my question regarding w
hat you’re doing down here. I would have thought you’d want to spend your evening topside, enjoying the festivities along with the other guests, one of whom, if you’ve forgotten, is your delightful cousin, Miss Temperance Flowerdew.”

  Pursing her lips, Miss Flowerdew settled back into the chair. “Temperance and I rarely spend time together at events unless I have need of her assistance. She’s more of a chaperone to me than a relative. If you weren’t aware of this, she’s my very distant cousin, and we’re hardly on friendly terms with each other.”

  Pursing her lips right back at Miss Flowerdew, Permilia tilted her head. “Cousin or not, she still saw fit to bring you tonight as her guest. That was incredibly generous of her, particularly since you and I know you would not have been as generous toward her if you’d received my invitation to this celebration instead of Temperance.”

  “Since you’re evidently trying to get me to leave the library, Miss Griswold, what with your veiled insults that I assure you I’ve noted, I’ll return topside before words are passed between us that I’m sure we’ll both regret.” Rising to her feet, Miss Flowerdew began marching across the room, turning when she reached the door to catch Gertrude’s eye. “Do say that you’ve come to your senses and are willing to assist me with that little matter we were discussing before Miss Griswold interrupted us.”

  Gertrude frowned. “Since you’ve yet to assist me, Miss Flowerdew, and I’m clearly still in need of assistance, I don’t understand why you still believe I owe you a favor.”

  “If you want me to remain silent about that painting hanging over your head, then yes, you do owe me a favor.”

  “You know full well I was never intending to make off with it.”

  “So you say.” With that, Miss Flowerdew turned abruptly and vanished through the doorway.

  “What in the world was that all about?”

  Gertrude groaned. “She wants me to introduce her to Harrison.”