Once an Heiress (Gilded Promises)

by Renee Ryan

  “What did you do, Gigi?”

  “I sold your grandmother’s pearls.” The confession did nothing to soothe her nerves.

  A muscle twitched in her father’s jaw, a sure sign of his irritation. More than irritation, she thought.

  Anger.

  Fury.

  But no, none of those emotions were in her father’s gaze. He looked at her with tears in his eyes.

  At the obvious sign of his sorrow, sorrow for her, a fist of ice clutched Gigi’s heart and squeezed. She didn’t know what to do with such undeserved understanding. Her father had always been so hard, an unforgiving rock in the face of iniquity.

  With awkward movements, Gigi reached out and touched his hand. “Father? Did you hear me?”

  He shut his eyes and released a shudder. “Thank God you had the pearls.”

  Words backed up in Gigi’s throat. “Yes, but . . . I sold them. I’m sorry, Father.”

  She couldn’t stop saying the words, no more than she could stop the tears from spilling out of her eyes. A crack in her heart opened, begging this man to fill it with acceptance and fatherly love. “Can you forgive me for the pain I have caused you and the family?”

  He reached out and gripped her hand. “We were both wrong. I forgive you, my darling girl, and I ask that you forgive me in return.” For the first time in Gigi’s memory, he focused that hard tone of censure on himself. “I abandoned you, as surely as that fortune hunter did. For that, I owe you my own apology.”

  What an odd turn of events. Gigi had come seeking forgiveness, only to discover her father had his own share of regrets. “Of course I forgive you.”

  At last, he smiled. It was the smile from her youth. “Welcome home, Gigi. It’s good to have you back.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  They shared another, longer hug, this one full of love and healing.

  She stepped out of his embrace. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

  His brows drew together in a heavy frown. “I think there’ve been enough revelations for one day.”

  “I’m engaged to be married,” she said. “I believe you will approve. He is everything admirable and worthy.”

  “High praise, indeed.” But the worry returned to his expression.

  “I greatly admire him. I love him with my whole heart, the heart of a woman, not the infatuated girl you once knew.” The power of her certainty hitched the breath in her lungs. “I wish to pledge my life to his as soon as possible.”

  Her father’s silver eyes became like smoldered glass, completely concealing his thoughts. He stared up at the ceiling, his expression so focused and intense that Gigi found herself looking up as well.

  “Dare I ask the name of your fiancé?”

  “Christopher Fitzpatrick.”

  Wide eyes stared back at her. “You want to marry Fitz?”

  “We’d like your blessing, sir,” Fitz said from the doorway.

  Throat suddenly dry, Gigi turned to the man she loved. Words failed her. Coherent thought disappeared. So . . . she simply . . . stared.

  Fitz responded in kind.

  “You didn’t have to come,” she told him. But, oh, she was glad to see him.

  “I needed to make sure you were all right.” He cut a quick look at her father. “Are you all right, Gigi?”

  How could she not be? Fitz had come to stand by her, no matter the reception she received. But he’d also given her the chance to state her case first.

  Fitz trusted and respected her, and yet he loved her enough to want to protect her.

  She reached out to him.

  He took her hand.

  “How, exactly”—her father divided a look between them—“did this come about?”

  With uncharacteristic passion and verve, Fitz explained his yearlong search for Gigi and how, once he’d found her, he had worked to win her heart.

  “I love your daughter, sir.”

  Hard to argue, when the proof was in his romantic retelling of the past weeks.

  “I want to marry her.”

  And then, with a smile for Gigi and a slap on Fitz’s back, her father said four of the most beautiful words in the English language. “You have my blessing.”

  Fitz proved, as always, to be a man of his word.

  Gigi was impressed with how he’d removed all obstacles standing in the way of a quick wedding. He’d called in favors, secured the marriage license, and had even spoken personally with the minister of the church.

  Apparently, it had taken considerable debate to convince the man of God that the reason for their haste was primarily due to Fitz’s eagerness to make Gigi his wife and nothing more sordid.

  The minister must have believed Fitz, because he’d agreed to perform the ceremony at their earliest convenience.

  And so it was precisely one week and three days after Gigi had arrived home that she stood in her childhood room, preparing for the ceremony.

  She’d requested they marry at Harvest House. Fitz had happily agreed.

  They’d wanted a small ceremony. But once her sisters and mother had taken over, the simple wedding in her father’s study had turned into an elaborate affair in the ballroom.

  “You must give me this,” her mother had said with no small amount of pleading. “I have always wanted one of my daughters to wed at home.”

  Annie was marrying Connor in three weeks at Trinity Church. So, after what Gigi had put her family through, she’d been more than willing to agree.

  Fitz, being Fitz, hadn’t cared where they married, so long as they said their vows as soon as humanly possible.

  How she loved that man.

  Gigi had risen early the morning of her wedding. Determined to impress her groom, she took special care dressing, paying particular attention to her hair. Her mother had sent in a maid to assist her in the preparations, but Gigi had looked the girl straight in the eye and then given her the rest of the day off.

  Confident her hairstyle was some of her best work, Gigi pinned the last ribbon in place, brushed a wrinkle from her skirt, and picked up the letter that had arrived earlier that morning.

  Smiling, she scanned Sophie’s words with deep fondness for the young woman she considered a dear friend. Apparently, the elopement had been the bride’s idea, a way for Sophie to prove to herself—as well as to her groom—that she no longer cared what New York society thought of her.

  Gigi paused over the letter long enough to whisper, “Good for you, Sophie,” then continued reading.

  We honeymooned in Washington, DC. Robert wanted to visit the capital of his newly adopted country, and I had no objections. We spent two glorious days and nights touring the sites. We would have stayed longer, but Robert had to return to his job at New York Hospital. I am happy to report that he is already a favorite with the chief of surgeons. His volunteer work at the clinic in the Bowery is especially admired. I predict a promotion for my handsome groom in the near future.

  The pride in Sophie’s words all but jumped off the page. One more cause for relief, Gigi thought.

  I can scarcely believe my good fortune in husbands. Even Mama adores him, which was as much of a surprise to her as it was to me.

  Gigi laughed softly. She could just imagine Esmeralda bestowing her favor on the newlyweds with dramatic flair, as if she were a queen and they her loyal subjects.

  I am not the least bit ashamed to admit that Robert spoils me beyond measure. He recently purchased a town house on the same block where Penelope and Simon live, which is barely a half mile from Luke and Elizabeth’s home. Our children will grow up playing with their cousins. I cannot ask for a better situation, or a happier ending to my story.

  “Nor could I,” Gigi whispered, setting aside the letter with a grateful heart. Her prayers had been answered. All had turned out well for Sophie.

  Smiling, Gigi strolled to the window overlooking Harvest House’s backyard and took in the view. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, soaring over a world washed whi
te with snow. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

  A soft knock heralded her sister’s entrance.

  “Oh, Gigi.” Annie gasped, her words coming out in a rush of pleasure. “You’re beautiful.”

  A breath later, she was pulled into Annie’s embrace.

  She clung to her sister. I should have come home sooner. The thought was becoming an hourly refrain. And yet, had Gigi left New York before now, she wouldn’t have learned the lessons Sally Smith had taught her.

  One more squeeze and Annie released her.

  In the clear light of day, Gigi studied her sister. It was like looking in a mirror. They were of a similar height and had the same red hair, face shape, and delicate features.

  “I’m so happy you’re marrying Fitz. I always thought he was your perfect match.”

  An overwhelming rush of affection filled Gigi. This wasn’t the first time her sister had said this in the past week. Nor was it the first time she’d admitted just how right Annie was.

  She and Fitz were perfectly suited. Her penchant for impulse tempered his tendency toward rigidness. Her love of the dramatic complemented his love of speed.

  She’d once thought the man boring? How wrong she’d been. One ride in his motorcar had dispelled any lingering doubts. Fitz had the heart of a rebel beneath his starched exterior, much like her own. He just did a better job of hiding it.

  “I wish I had seen the truth sooner,” she said now to Annie.

  “Yes, well, the past is the past.”

  “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

  “We all have.” Annie linked their arms. “It’s what we do in the aftermath of our mistakes that determines our character.”

  “When did you get so wise?”

  Annie shot her a grin from over her shoulder. “Blame Connor. He’s always saying things like that.”

  The mention of her sister’s fiancé was the perfect opening for Gigi to ask one more time, “Annie, are you certain you aren’t upset about Great-grandmother’s pearls?”

  “Oh, Gigi, please stop worrying. You have to believe me when I say I would much prefer having my sister back home and in my life than a silly old necklace that I would have worn once.”

  Sounds of happiness moved up Gigi’s throat. “I love you, Annabeth Wentworth.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone does.”

  They shared a watery smile.

  “Oh, no. No crying. I was sent to fetch you. Mother will have my head if you arrive downstairs with red eyes and a runny nose.”

  This time, Gigi did laugh.

  “The guests are assembled.” Annie unlinked their arms, then reached out a hand. “It’s time to get married, dear sister.”

  Smiling, Gigi reached out as well, but a low-pitched clearing of a throat had her dropping her hand and peering toward the masculine sound.

  “Father,” she said in surprise. “I thought you were waiting with Mother downstairs.”

  He moved deeper into the room with his usual air of authority. “I would like to speak with you first.”

  He sounded so formal. So distant. So like the father who’d given her the ultimatum that had sent her running.

  But then he smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek, and Gigi immediately relaxed.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Annie squeezed Gigi’s hand, kissed her father’s cheek, then left the room humming the wedding march.

  Alone with her father, Gigi stood very still, very attentive.

  Seeming in no hurry to speak, he scanned the room and then flicked a glance out the window. After moving closer, he rocked back on his heels and studied the scenery below.

  Gigi held her breath as he turned to face her again. When their eyes met, she saw fatherly love staring back at her.

  “You make a beautiful bride, my dear.” Tears formed in his eyes. “You look so much like your mother on our wedding day.”

  Love and hope blossomed in her heart. “That’s the best compliment you could have given me.”

  “I have something for you.” He stuck his hand into one of the inner pockets of his coat and pulled out a small velvet box.

  Gigi willed her own tears into submission with a hard swallow.

  “Oh, Father,” she said, curling her fingers around the gift.

  “Go on. Open it.”

  She flipped back the lid and gasped at a beautiful emerald-and-diamond pendant on a gold chain.

  “It belonged to my mother,” he said, his voice storming with emotion.

  Blinking rapidly, Gigi concentrated on the necklace. On the black velvet box. On anything but the fresh ache in her chest.

  “I remember her wearing this,” she whispered. “At all the important family gatherings.”

  “Your mother and I want you to wear it today, the start of a new family tradition.”

  The muscles in her throat quivered, making a coherent response impossible. In silence, she handed him the necklace, turned to face the mirror.

  “Will you help me with the clasp?” she choked out.

  He hesitated. Then, with unsteady fingers, he fastened the pendant around her neck. She caught his gaze in their shared reflection.

  “Welcome home, daughter.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  A strangled sound whipped from his throat, and he roped her tightly against him. The hug was short but emotional.

  “Our time is up, Gigi,” he said softly. “Your groom is waiting.”

  Gigi inhaled deeply, touched her fingertip to the emerald pendant growing warm against her skin. “I’m ready.”

  Her father guided her into the hallway and down the stairs, then stopped at the threshold of the gilded ballroom decorated with hundreds of flowers from her mother’s greenhouse.

  Stomach twisting into a dozen knots, Gigi peeked around her father’s broad shoulders. The gathering was small and intimate and perfect. She would pledge her life to Fitz’s among family and close friends.

  She looked to where Fitz stood with the minister and his cousin. Fitz caught sight of her and smiled. A low buzz filled her ears, and everything faded away.

  With Fitz, her life had found its rhythm. The man she’d once spurned would soon become her husband. She didn’t deserve him but would spend the rest of her life trying. She would fail at times, ask for his forgiveness, and go forth confident they would stand together.

  The ceremony passed in a blur.

  They spoke their vows, exchanged simple gold bands, and then Fitz took her hand, cupped it protectively in his, and said, “I love you, Georgina Sally Smith Wentworth.”

  A laugh slipped out of her. “I love you, Christopher Nolan Fitzpatrick.”

  “I’ll take care of you, Gigi. I will never leave you or forsake you. My health may fail. My mind may go. But my heart will always belong to you.”

  Fitz had goodness in him, genuine goodness. It had always been there, but Gigi had been too busy looking for the flaws. Never again. “You are the man of my dreams. I love you with all that I am.”

  A hush filled the moment. The past separated from the present, leaving only the future stretching before them.

  At last, Gigi was home.

  Fitz took a short step back and aimed his beautiful green gaze at her. “Our life together begins from this day forward.”

  “Our future is now.” She cupped the face of her beloved. “Let’s live it well.”

  Epilogue

  The wedding reception lasted two hours. Gigi and Fitz had a train to catch for New York City, where they would spend their wedding night and two additional days. With Calvin Fitzpatrick’s illness, and Gigi still in the early phases of restoring her relationships with her family, neither the bride nor the groom wanted to stay away any longer.

  Due to the modern convenience of railroads, and Fitz’s newfound penchant for calling in favors, the newlyweds were settled in their suite at the Park Avenue Hotel by the end of the day.

  While her husband ran a mysterious errand, Gigi stood at the window
overlooking the bustling streets below. She watched the sun dip below the horizon, turning a strip of low-riding clouds a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and golds.

  Fitz entered the suite, calling out her name.

  Gigi glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “You will be happy to know I have secured us a private box for the performance tonight.”

  Her brows shot up. According to the hotel manager, Esmeralda’s play was sold out for the next three weeks. “How on earth did you manage that?”

  “Simple, really.” He drew alongside her and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. “All I had to do was purchase the theater.”

  “You bought the Summer Garden? But I thought you said it was a bad investment.”

  He groaned at the reminder. “I have learned that some investments can’t be quantified properly, not where sentiment is concerned.”

  That sounded nothing like the man who’d made a name for himself in corporate finance. “Is that so?”

  “I have something for you.” He slipped his hand inside his coat, pulled out what looked like an official document. “Your wedding gift.”

  Gigi’s eyes went wide with pleasure, reading eagerly. It didn’t take long for her to realize she held the deed to the Summer Garden in her hand.

  “You really, truly purchased the theater. And . . . and . . .” She read to the end. “Oh, Fitz, you wonderful, thoughtful, romantic fool. You put the theater in my name.”

  “Happy wedding day, my love.”

  “It’s the best gift anyone has ever given me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are an amazing, perfect—”

  He kissed the rest of her words away.

  Lost in the glorious moment, they kissed for a long time before they pulled apart, both gasping for air, grinning like romantic fools.

  She kissed him again, shorter, but with equal passion and dedication to the task. “Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “I have one more surprise for you.”

  Arms still wrapped around him, she twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t think I can bear much more excitement.”

  “You’ll like this one.”

  “I liked the first one.” She dropped her hands. “Actually, I loved it, nearly as much as I love you.”