by Jen Turano
Harrison swung his leg over the saddle, dropped to the ground, told Rupert to behave, then blinked. To his utter disbelief, Agent McParland was not getting off his horse to assess the situation, something Harrison thought the Pinkerton agent would have done. Instead, he was already galloping away on his horse, Edwina waving cheerfully back at Harrison before she turned around, the sound of her laughter drifting back to him on the breeze.
“At least someone knows how to go about orchestrating a dashing gesture,” Asher muttered to Harrison as he took hold of his horse’s reins, then nodded to Gertrude, who was looking remarkably grumpy. “What say all of us walk back together to Rutherford & Company? I’ll buy you a nice cup of tea from the tea shop.”
Gertrude smoothed her hair. “There’s no need for either of you to accompany me, Asher. I’m perfectly fine—and some might say safer—walking by myself.”
Asher smoothed back his hair as well. “This area is known to have pickpockets lurking about. Best not to chance your well-being.”
“Because pulling me on top of a rabid beast wasn’t a risk to my well-being,” Gertrude replied before she lifted her chin and started forward, limping every other step.
“Are you hurt?” Harrison asked, hurrying to catch up with her.
“Lost a shoe.”
Harrison winced. “I am sorry about that . . . and about your hat.”
“I’ve lost my hat?”
“Indeed.”
“Not to worry,” Asher said cheerfully as he trailed behind them. “I happen to know we have numerous lovely hats in our millinery department, and you may choose a new one. My treat.”
Gertrude stopped walking and turned. “Why would you treat me when it’s Harrison’s fault I lost my hat in the first place?”
Asher winced. “Umm . . . because I enjoy extending my soon-to-be wife’s favorite friend a treat?”
Gertrude’s brows drew together. “Was it your idea for Harrison to snatch me off the street?”
“I must say I can’t remember a time I’ve seen Edwina looking so delighted, but she certainly seems to have enjoyed being pulled up on Agent McParland’s horse,” Asher said, ignoring the question. “That sparkle I noticed in her eye is exactly what I’d like to capture in an advertisement for my store.” He nodded to Harrison. “Do be certain to remind me to broach the idea of her modeling for me if she ever returns from her adventure with Agent McParland.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Harrison argued. “Edwina’s enough of a handful as it is. The last thing we need is for her face to be all over the city, because that’ll encourage more men like Agent McParland to come calling. And don’t even get me started on what my mother will do if she learns I’ve encouraged your mad idea to use Edwina for advertising copy.”
Asher began tsking under his breath. “There’s no need to be so argumentative. If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to help you.”
“Perhaps you should stop helping him, Asher, before you both get into more trouble than you’re already in,” Gertrude said. “But speaking of Edwina, I do hope she hasn’t suffered an injury. If either of you didn’t notice, she tumbled to the ground after Harrison ripped me right away from her.” Gertrude rubbed her arm. “She and I are fortunate to still have our limbs attached.”
“How are matters progressing at Miss Snook’s School for the Education of the Feminine Mind?” Harrison asked, earning a nod of clear approval from Asher but a frown from Gertrude.
“It’s going very well, thank you,” Gertrude said, and even though her response was perfectly pleasant, Harrison thought he detected a trace of an edge to her tone.
He refused another wince. “Have you been enjoying being taken in hand by all the ladies?”
When Gertrude spun on her heel and stomped away from him, and Asher began shaking his head somewhat vigorously, Harrison realized he’d once again allowed the wrong words to escape. Breaking into a stride, even though his stride was somewhat limited because Rupert wasn’t cooperating and Harrison had to practically pull him down the street, he finally reached Gertrude’s side.
“May I assume you don’t care to be taken in hand?”
“You shouldn’t assume anything about me.” Sending him a look that practically scorched the skin right off his face, she lurched ahead, and he wasn’t quite brave enough to catch up with her just yet.
“What are you doing?” Asher demanded, joining him. “Why would you broach the idea of her being taken in hand? That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”
“Forgive me for being a little rattled, but if you missed it, my dashing gesture wasn’t remotely dashing, and I’m afraid my mind has yet to snap back into place.”
“Then allow me to snap it back for you, because there’s a puddle up ahead, and it’s time to try out romantic gesture number two.”
“Do you honestly believe I should continue on with the list?”
“What possible harm could come of the next gesture? The worse that can happen is she’ll feel sorry about you ruining your jacket, although”—Asher met Harrison’s gaze—“that’s exactly what we need her to feel for you now: sympathy. So, off you go again. I’ll hold Rupert’s reins. But you’d best break into a bit of a run or she’ll pass that puddle before you have an opportunity to act the gallant.”
Handing over the reins, Harrison started forward, breaking into a run. Shrugging out of his jacket as he passed her, he fished the list out of the jacket pocket, tucked it into the pocket of his trousers, then stopped directly in front of the large puddle Asher had pointed out. Spinning around, he stepped right in front of Gertrude, blocking her way.
He was not reassured when she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes.
Taking a second to make a big production of shaking out his jacket, he turned and threw the jacket over the puddle, turning back to her and gesturing her forward.
“You’re not suffering from a fever, are you?” she asked slowly.
Thinking it would be a little much to tell her he was feverish with affection for her, Harrison cleared his throat and gestured forward again instead. “I’m fine. I simply want to help you cross over this puddle without getting your dainty little feet wet.”
“I have larger feet than the average woman.”
“If you don’t walk over that jacket soon, your feet, whether they be large or small, will get soaked because the water seems to be absorbing somewhat quickly into the fabric of my coat.”
The very corners of her lips twitched. “I don’t think I’m up for arguing with logic like that.”
Feeling slightly more confident because her lips had most definitely twitched, Harrison bowed her forward, watched her take her first step over the jacket, then another, and another, and then . . . she dropped like a stone into what turned out to be not a puddle, but a rather deep hole.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The second her feet finally hit solid ground, Gertrude looked down, relieved to discover she’d only fallen up to her waist in what felt like a vat of mud. Raising a hand, she took a swipe at her face, shuddering when clumps of something of a questionable nature became firmly attached to her glove. Peeling off the glove, and then the other, she flung them away from her, lifted her gaze, and found Harrison, along with Asher, standing frozen in place, their expressions so horrified she couldn’t help herself . . . she laughed.
Once she started, she couldn’t stop, until the muck attached to her face began to dribble down her cheeks, and not caring to have it slide right into her mouth, she pressed her lips together, swallowed another laugh, then held out a slimy hand, which Harrison immediately took.
“On my word, Gertie, I don’t know how to go about even asking you to forgive me for this one,” he said, pulling her up effortlessly and keeping hold of her as she caught her balance, even though doing so stained his linen shirt with mud.
“It was my fault,” Asher said, stepping forward, pulling one of his ever-handy handkerchiefs from his jacket and ha
nding it over to her. “I’m the one who convinced Harrison you’d be impressed with romantic gestures, but here we’ve scared you half to death, and then consigned you to an almost bottomless pit of mud.”
Gertrude wiped her face with the handkerchief, trying to ignore the fact her pulse was now beginning to race through her veins, a direct result of Harrison having called her Gertie.
She’d always longed to be familiar enough with a person where they’d adopt a special name for her, and that Harrison was the first person to ever call her Gertie—an adorable adaptation of her name if she’d ever heard one—well, it was enough to send her heart pitter-pattering in her chest.
That pitter-pattering hitched up another notch when Harrison took the handkerchief from her and started wiping mud from her forehead.
“I’m afraid I’m now responsible for ruining your dress, and I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . .” He stopped wiping her face and looked down. “It appears you’ve lost your other shoe.”
Gertrude waved that aside. “It’s of little consequence, Harrison. I’m much more concerned about what you’re trying to accomplish today. Forgive me, but the only instance I’m aware of where a gentleman willingly ruins what I thought was a very fine coat, even with its peculiar green color, is when said gentleman is trying to, again forgive me, woo a lady.” She caught his eye. “If you’ll recall, you stated quite emphatically only a few days ago that you and I were strictly friends, and . . . you encouraged me to allow the ladies to take me in hand. Now, I’m not certain if you’re aware of this, but being taken in hand more often than not is simply a different way of saying it’s time to find a gentleman for a lady to marry.”
Harrison blinked. “Is it really?”
With those three little words, Gertrude felt her spirits lifting. “Yes.”
“I had no idea,” Harrison said, dabbing at her forehead again before he turned and handed Asher back his handkerchief. “It seems as if this is a day of discovery for me, and looks as if it needs to be a day of disclosure as well.”
“What kind of disclosure?” Gertrude asked, not wanting to allow herself to hope too much, but unable to stop the anticipation now racing through her.
“All in due time” was all Harrison said as he nodded to Asher. “I need to get Gertrude back so she can change out of these wet and muddy clothes. I may not have intended her to take a dousing today, but that’s exactly what happened and I certainly don’t want to see her catching a chill because of my less than dashing gesture. Will you see to Rupert while I see to Gertie?”
Asher inclined his head. “Of course.” He looked to Gertrude. “I cannot apologize enough, Gertrude, for my part in the distress that we caused you today.”
She smiled. “I’m fine, Asher. There’s been relatively little harm done, so do stop looking so solemn. Why, the events of this day will make great stories to tell my children someday, if I ever have any, so there’s no need for either you or Harrison to continue fretting. But do pass on my apologies to Permilia, since clearly I’ll not be able to meet with her now.”
“I will, although knowing Permilia, she’ll be over at Miss Snook’s before you have time to change.”
Sending her a smile, before seeming to wince at Harrison, Asher walked away, leading the two horses behind him. Oddly enough, even Rupert was looking a little solemn and didn’t bother to so much as toss his head when he passed Gertrude.
Taking hold of her hand, Harrison placed it in the crook of his arm, giving it a pat and refusing to listen to Gertrude’s protests about his not getting close to her because she was ruining his clothing.
“Asher’s of the belief this is an outfit best confined to the ragpickers anyway,” he said. “And I’m certainly not going to allow you to slip and slide all the way back without benefit of a steadying arm. You’ve now lost both of your shoes, which is going to make navigating down the sidewalk tricky.”
“I’ll be fine,” Gertrude said. “Although I am sorry you lost your jacket as well.”
Harrison smiled. “Asher was offended by the green, although I have to admit I was of the belief the jacket was orange.”
She returned his smile. “Asher is very fussy when it comes to fashions, but if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it. However, as for the green, it was a somewhat bright green. There aren’t many men who can wear that color, but you were certainly one of the exceptions.”
Giving her arm another pat, Harrison leaned closer to her, his eyes turning slightly . . . dangerous.
As all her breath got caught in her throat, he leaned even closer, but then, before his lips could touch hers, something she truly thought might happen, he blinked, shook himself ever so slightly, then straightened.
“Do forgive me, Gertrude. I have no idea what just came over me. Here I promised to see you directly home, and yet I’m dawdling.”
Opening her mouth to tell him she was perfectly happy to have him dawdle all he’d like, and that she now preferred him addressing her as Gertie, her words died a rapid death when he suddenly began walking, his long legs eating up the sidewalk so rapidly she found herself practically having to gallop to keep up with him.
It came as no surprise that she soon developed a stitch in her side right before she started wheezing.
Slowing, Harrison turned his head and frowned. “Another stitch?”
“Just a small one.”
The very next second she was back in his arms, her dress soaking the fine linen of his shirt as he strode down the three blocks toward the school. With laughter rumbling from his throat when she suggested he was going to hurt himself if he didn’t put her down soon, Harrison flipped open the latch of the wrought-iron gate that separated the school from the sidewalk. He then continued up the path leading to the front door, nodding to the Huxley butler, Mr. Barclay, who was already holding the door open for them.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you still manning the door, Mr. Barclay,” Harrison said, stepping past the butler, then stopping with Gertrude still in his arms when he reached the marble entranceway.
“I find it much more exciting back here than at our new residence,” Mr. Barclay said. “The sisters do enjoy the house by Gramercy Park, but it gets a little quiet there for me, what with Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel occupied with so many different matters these days.” He smiled. “That’s why I asked to be reassigned here at the new school when the sisters know they won’t be at the other house, because . . . well . . .” He looked at the puddle of mud pooling under Gertrude. “Adventures seem to happen often these days, and I’m sure that will only increase once we get the school up and fully operational.”
“Was that someone at the door, Mr. Barclay?” Mrs. Davenport asked, poking her head around the corner of the hallway before she let out a small shriek, then barreled directly toward them, wearing what appeared to be pattern pieces attached to her clothing. Skidding to a stop in front of them, the skidding a direct result of her being in stockinged feet, she raised a hand to her mouth as she looked Gertrude over.
“Goodness, what happened? Why is Harrison carrying you, and what are you doing with Harrison in the first place?”
“I’m carrying her because she got another stitch, Mrs. Davenport, and she’s also missing her shoes.”
Mrs. Davenport turned a sharp eye Harrison’s way. “How, pray tell, did that happen?”
“Peculiar as this is going to sound, she lost the first one when I made the mistake of pulling her onto my horse, which didn’t turn out exactly as planned. And then she lost the second one when she took a dip in an unexpectedly deep puddle that was, unfortunately, filled with a great deal of mud.”
“You’re right, that does sound peculiar, but because Gertrude is dripping all over the entranceway marble, perhaps it would be for the best if we saved the rest of this conversation for later.” Mrs. Davenport nodded toward the stairs. “Because I’m certain you don’t want the poor dear to suffer from another stitch, you may carry her to her assigned suite of rooms
, up on the third floor no less.” She smiled. “I’ll act as chaperone.”
It took a great deal of effort for Gertrude not to roll her eyes. “There’s no need for Harrison to carry me, and aren’t you in the middle of a design lesson with Miss Betsy Miller?”
Mrs. Davenport looked down at the paper patterns attached to her, then gave a dismissive flick of a wrist. “I’m sure Miss Miller has more important matters to attend to for the rest of her day than continuing on with me. She’s agreed to give me weekly instruction, and since I certainly don’t want to neglect you at this troubling time, I’ll just have Mr. Barclay tell Miss Miller something of an urgent nature has come up.”
Knowing it would be futile to argue because Mrs. Davenport was looking far too determined, Gertrude soon found herself being carried up three flights of incredibly steep steps. Mrs. Davenport matched Harrison step for step up the flights, chattering on about her pattern lesson as they climbed.
She shooed him away once they reached Gertrude’s suite of rooms. Setting her down, he sent her a charming smile, then headed down the steps again, leaving her a little weak at the knees.
“Goodness, dear,” Mrs. Davenport exclaimed. “This is beyond my wildest hopes for you, but do know that you must proceed carefully. It’s been my observation that gentlemen such as Harrison, or rogues if you will, tend to enjoy pursuing a lady, so don’t make it too easy on him, especially after he delivered such a cruel disappointment to you just the other day.”
Walking into her little sitting room, Gertrude moved to the bathing chamber, turning once she reached that door. “Harrison, no matter his appearance, Mrs. Davenport, is not a rogue, nor is he a typical gentleman. And while I truly have no idea what he’s up to, I think he may very well have regrets about what happened. I’m intending to hear him out, no matter if you believe that’s being easy on him or not, but do know that I appreciate your concern and welcome your support.”
Unfortunately, Mrs. Davenport didn’t appear to hear a single word of Gertrude’s speech since she was already walking out of the room, muttering something about making plans.
