by Jen Turano
“Why is your mother so against society events?” Gertrude asked.
“She abhors society and the pretense she feels goes hand in hand with it.” Edwina heaved a long-suffering sigh before she, surprisingly enough, grinned. “But since you’ve been so gracious as to extend me an invitation, it would be churlish of me to refuse, so I’ll be delighted to join you at the Manhattan Beach Hotel.”
Gertrude smiled. “Wonderful, but aren’t you worried that accepting my invitation will put you at odds with your brother?”
Edwina’s grin widened. “Harrison is not a man who is comfortable disappointing ladies. He’s not immune to pouting, or a few sniffles here and there, which I admit, I’ve put to good use on numerous occasions throughout my life. He’ll not be put out with me at all if I summon up a few tears. Quite honestly, I think he’s been coming around to the belief that while my sisters are content to immerse themselves in the family business, I have another life to lead, one that won’t see me building ships year after year.”
Temperance paused in the act of pulling a lovely silk glove up her arm that she’d retrieved from Edwina’s satchel. “You know how to build ships?”
“I know everything about shipping, although I’m not nearly as mad about the industry as the rest of my family.” She nodded to Gertrude. “A word of advice about that, though. If you truly want to win my family over, do at least pretend an interest in the business. That will help you pave the way into their hearts.”
“You and I are really going to have to have a little chat about the delusion you seem to be under regarding my relationship with your brother.”
Edwina completely ignored that statement. “You’ll also endear yourself to my mother if you mention how much you adore children. My mother is longing for a grandchild, so do be certain to bring children into the conversation as often as you can once Harrison brings you around to meet her.”
“I don’t believe Harrison has any plans to bring me around to meet your mother,” Gertrude said slowly.
“Well of course he doesn’t have immediate plans to do that since my mother isn’t currently in New York.”
Gertrude fought a grin. “Did you ever think that perhaps your mother has taken to hinting about having grandchildren because she’d like to see you or your two sisters wed in the near future?”
Edwina waved that aside. “Margaret has vowed never to wed. And as for me, I’m all for finding a nice gentleman, but one doesn’t find nice gentlemen down on the docks, which is why I’d like to join society.”
“What about Adelaide?”
“She’s determined to spend her life as the captain of a ship, so I don’t believe she’ll be getting married anytime soon, unless she meets a pirate.” Edwina smiled. “Adelaide has always been keen on pirates.”
Temperance laughed and shook her head. “That would certainly draw your mother’s attention away from you wanting to enter society if your sister showed up with a pirate on her arm.”
“Mother likes pirates, especially since my father began his career as one, clear back in the day, although he was more of a privateer than pirate.”
“What an interesting lady your mother seems to be,” Gertrude began. “But I’m afraid that after she discovers I invited you to the Manhattan Beach Hotel, she’ll not be keen to make my acquaintance.”
“Her desire for a grandbaby will more than appease her annoyance with you in the end.”
Gertrude drew in a breath and tried again. “I’m not certain you’re aware of this, but your brother has recently moved to the top of a very elite list—one that is titled Most Eligible Gentlemen in New York. I’m confident Harrison will be able to be incredibly discerning when it comes to choosing a future bride. That right there will allow your mother to persuade him to choose a woman whom she doesn’t find annoying.”
Edwina, instead of looking contrite, smiled rather knowingly. “My brother has never been one to single out a lady before, but he certainly has taken to singling you out and bringing you into conversations often, although . . .” Her smile faded. “Since you are associated with Mrs. Davenport, and that lovely lady is currently at odds with my sister, what with all the yelling they were doing, we might have a bit of difficulty convincing Margaret to embrace the idea of you now.”
“Which isn’t as concerning as you believe because your brother has never given me cause to believe he wants to further our association past the friendship stage,” Gertrude began, pretending she didn’t see Edwina roll her eyes. “However, returning to the subject of Mrs. Davenport, now that Temperance and I are suitably dressed, and before we leave this library, perhaps it would be for the best if you could explain in a little more detail exactly what she was arguing about with your sister.”
Edwina stuffed a box of pins she’d been using back in her satchel. “Margaret wanted to throw Mrs. Davenport into the brig.”
“Throw her into the brig?” Gertrude repeated.
“Indeed, but there’s no need to look so nervous. We don’t have a brig on board the Cornelia. And besides, since I’m sure Mrs. Davenport wasn’t truly involved in any shenanigans, being an esteemed society matron from what I’ve gathered, there’s nothing to worry about.” She tossed a glance to the painting behind the fainting couch. “Unless that does go missing. Then everyone will need to worry because that is the first piece of artwork my parents bought after they began making a success out of the shipping business they’d struggled to build for years.”
Gertrude glanced to the painting in question. “Strictly out of curiosity, and because you did say your father was once a bit of a pirate, what do you think your family would do to a person if they happened to make off with a prized possession from this yacht?”
Edwina fastened the latch on the satchel and straightened. “I fear we’d deal with the culprit most severely. My family has toiled long and hard over the years to build up our business. That means we have little tolerance for thieves. Why, I have to imagine if someone did try to make off with anything from this ship, that someone might very well be forced to walk the plank.”
Chapter
Seven
Raking a hand through hair that had escaped the confines of a ribbon he would have never bought for himself, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder how he always seemed to be caught up in one feminine drama after another.
It wasn’t that he had anything against the lady set, especially since he’d grown up surrounded by members of the feminine sort. But, in all honesty, he had no true understanding of the female mind. He also didn’t have the slightest idea how to sort through all the drama ladies seemed to embrace with such enthusiasm, even though they always seemed to expect him to know how to go about doing exactly that.
Holding his hair out of his face with one hand while placing his other on the ship’s railing when the Cornelia took that moment to dip due to the surging tide, Harrison settled his attention on Miss Mabel Huxley and Miss Henrietta Huxley.
Those two ladies were currently making their way unaided down the plank that led to the New Iron Pier, having refused his offer of assistance. Why they’d refused him, he wasn’t certain. But since he wasn’t overly familiar with the sisters, having only made their acquaintance a few months before when they’d decided to take Permilia under their collective wings, he could only imagine that he’d phrased his offer of assistance in a manner Miss Mabel and Miss Henrietta found lacking. In his defense, though, he’d only told the ladies they should take his arm because they were of an age when breaking a fragile neck should be of great concern. For some unknown reason, they’d immediately gotten up in arms.
When faced with two ladies who’d begun sending him sniffs of clear disapproval, he’d abandoned any attempt at assisting them. He was now holding his breath as the ladies marched their way toward the pier, hoping the slippery nature of the plank wasn’t going to see them suffering a dip into the sea.
Quite truthfully, he was contemplating the idea of remaining mute for the rest of the night
because every time he did open his mouth, one lady or another took exception to all the words he allowed to escape.
At present, he was certain numerous ladies on board the Cornelia were suffering from acute cases of annoyance, the cause of which being attributed directly to him.
The most annoyed of the bunch was certainly Margaret. She’d been more than vocal with her disappointment that he had not allowed her to tie Mrs. Davenport up and toss her in the brig. Although why his sister had suggested a brig was puzzling since they didn’t have a brig on the Cornelia in the first place.
Next up on the list of being annoyed with him would have to be Mrs. Davenport. She’d taken issue with the idea that he’d neglected to insist Margaret apologize to her for what she proclaimed were nothing less than “unfounded, nasty accusations.” And, while it wasn’t that he believed Margaret didn’t owe Mrs. Davenport an apology, he’d never been a gentleman to order ladies about. That meant he didn’t believe it was his place to insist his sister apologize, but when he’d tried to explain that to Mrs. Davenport, she’d sent him a snort, of all things, and immediately took to presenting him with her back.
To make the situation even more uncomfortable, Miss Clementine Flowerdew had rendered a most outlandish tale concerning Gertrude and a painting in the library. And then, after she was done with her rendering, she’d smiled a lovely smile his way even as she began batting her lashes, quite as if she’d gotten something in her eye.
When he’d made the unfortunate decision to inquire if she needed his assistance with the troubling eye business, Margaret released a grunt and immediately launched into a somewhat scathing lecture, informing Clementine in no uncertain terms that it was not a moment for a touch of frivolous flirting.
Before Harrison could wrap his mind around the idea Clementine Flowerdew was evidently flirting with him, Clementine stuck her pert nose straight into the air, told Margaret she didn’t appreciate such an uninviting atmosphere, and glided for the door, turning to send him one last smile.
Evidently, he’d made another mistake when he’d returned that smile, even though he was of the belief that not doing so would have been a serious neglect of basic manners.
Margaret and Mrs. Davenport immediately began casting less than friendly gazes his way, and faced with such blatant feminine animosity, Harrison had done the only thing he could think of. . . . He’d fled the wheelhouse and taken refuge behind one of the four imposing cowl vents that were stationed at the front of the ship.
Waiting until Margaret steered the Cornelia over to the pier and his crew had secured the yacht with ropes to that pier, he’d then lurked behind the cowls until Adelaide, being a most sensible sort, organized the departure of the guests from the ship.
“Didn’t I tell you, Mr. Sinclair, that Mabel and I were perfectly capable of reaching the pier without the strong arm of a gentleman to assist us?” Miss Henrietta suddenly called, drawing Harrison’s attention. “It’s not as if either one of us is at our last prayers just yet.”
Having no idea exactly the age of Miss Henrietta, as she preferred to be called, and not being quite brave enough to ask her since she was known to be a somewhat peculiar and unpredictable lady, Harrison decided the prudent response would be one that ignored the whole last prayers business altogether. With his lips quirking into a grin, he leaned over the railing. “I had no idea you were so put out with me because you were of the belief I was making a disparaging implication regarding your age. I assure you, that was not my intent at all. Did it never cross your mind that I was simply insisting on offering you my manly assistance because I wanted everyone to witness me arriving at Brighton Beach with two lovely ladies in my company?”
Even though there was a good deal of distance separating them, and the sun was beginning to set over the Atlantic Ocean, Hamilton could have sworn Miss Henrietta rolled her eyes. “Even though I’m not immune to the charm of a handsome gentleman, do know that I am immune to nonsense when I hear it.” With that, Miss Henrietta spun on her heel, took hold of her sister’s arm, and began marching down the pier at a brisk pace.
“Miss Henrietta certainly is a delightful lady, possessed of such an unassuming nature, but oddly enough, she and her sister have begun to grow on me.”
Straightening, Harrison found Mr. Asher Rutherford, his very good friend, guest of honor that evening, and supplier of ribbons, coming to a stop beside him. “The sisters do seem to have a rather curious type of appeal,” Harrison agreed as he nodded toward the retreating sisters in question. “Which is fortunate for you since Permilia seems to enjoy their company so much.”
Asher blew out a breath. “Life is curious at times since I would have never imagined the Huxley sisters becoming such an integral part of our lives. But because they do share a past with Permilia’s father, George, and Permilia is missing her father at this important time in her life, the sisters have filled a void for her in a way that I find endearing. They treat her as if she’s their own daughter, something Permilia’s stepmother never did, and for that, the Huxley sisters will always have my deepest regard.”
“Does it bother Permilia that George has decided to remain over in Paris to try and mend his marriage with Ida instead of returning to the States for his daughter’s engagement celebrations?”
“Since his remaining in Paris has Ida remaining there as well, I’m going to have to say no.” Asher frowned. “I’m still not convinced George will be able to mend his marriage to Ida, what with him revealing he only married her to help usher Permilia into society, and Ida revealing she only married him for his money. Permilia, on the other hand, seems to be hopeful they will be able to mend their relationship in the end. If that mending comes with the price of them not being in New York for our wedding in a few months, she seems to be fine with that idea as well.”
“It’ll certainly make that day brighter for both of you if Lucy, the dreaded stepsister, isn’t around on your happy day,” Harrison added. “She and Permilia don’t share what anyone could call an affectionate bond.”
Asher smiled. “Since we’ve recently learned that Lucy has abandoned her interest in Mr. Slater, it’ll make the day brighter for you as well since rumor has it around society that the ladies have decided you’re the gentleman to pursue at the moment.” His smile widened. “Lucy, from what I understand, is very susceptible to matters like that, which means you may have become her next target had she returned from Paris to attend her stepsister’s engagement celebration and then subsequent wedding.”
Harrison leaned closer to his friend. “There’s not really talk like that about me making the rounds, is there?”
“Of course there is.”
“A disturbing idea to be sure, and one that proves exactly why I’m not keen to enter society, no matter that society seems keen to welcome industrialists into their hallowed midst these days.”
“I would think since you are a gentleman who isn’t growing any younger, and you have been quite diligent in regard to growing the family shipping business, you’d relish the idea of ladies finding you to be a most excellent matrimonial choice.”
Harrison quirked a brow Asher’s way. “Do not tell me you’re turning into one of those gentlemen, are you? The ones who’ve found their true love and now believe everyone needs to do the same?”
Asher quirked a brow right back at him. “I’ve recently come to the conclusion that love is a state that mustn’t be neglected, and a state that everyone should have an opportunity to embrace.”
“Since when have you taken to turning poetic, and in a Byronic manner at that?”
Asher, instead of looking even a smidgen embarrassed, looked rather smug instead. “I recently began enjoying the work of Lord Byron, finding myself pleasantly surprised by the depth of emotion he put into his work. I daresay I never gave that esteemed gentleman his due, what with believing his poems regarding love to be a touch unrealistic, if you will. But, since I’ve now had the pleasure of gaining Permilia’s charming affections, I find
Lord Byron’s work to be delightfully educational and strongly suggest you pick up a few of his works in order to aid you in acquiring the affections of your own charming lady.”
“You’re worse off than I imagined,” Harrison muttered right as Asher suddenly began looking far too determined.
“Because you are one of my closest friends, Harrison, I’ve decided I owe it to you to move your life along in the proper direction. That means I’m going to assist you with procuring your own happily-ever-after.”
Harrison began inching backward. “I don’t believe that’s necessary, especially since I’m perfectly happy as it is.”
“You work almost all the time except for when you join me for lunch at one of my clubs a few times a week.”
“I enjoy working and building up my shipping business, and it’s not as if my only social activity is joining you for lunch a few times a week.”
“What else, pray tell, do you do?”
“Well, to refresh that obviously faulty memory of yours, I ride my horse in Central Park.”
“With me, and after we’ve enjoyed our lunch. That doesn’t count.”
“I’m perfectly content with my life.”
“You need a lady.”
Harrison’s brows drew together. “How in the world did you surmise that from me saying I’m perfectly content?”
“Gentlemen always say they’re perfectly content when they’re really longing to spend their time with a lady. I’m sure I said exactly the same thing before I met my Permilia, but now I know I was hardly content, which is why I’ve decided to offer you my assistance in finding you a lady of your own.”
“I’m surrounded by ladies all the time, because, in case you’ve forgotten, I have three sisters and a mother—all of whom seem to enjoy spending an enormous amount of time in my company.”
