The Duplicitous Debutante (Cotillion Ball)

by Becky Lower

  “I do have some contacts who are always in the market for new businesses. Tell me a bit about this one, and let’s discuss your price.”

  “It’s a publishing house. My son has been trying to run it for me, but he has no head for the type of work needed to run a company, so I’ve decided to close the business. But it’s highly marketable. Last night, my son showed me the latest manuscript from one of the writers he has under contract, and it’s a solid, good story. I’m certain if anyone reads the saga of Harry Hawk, they’ll meet my price. Especially if they have any insight at all as to how a book such as a good, rip-roaring western should be marketed. I think a whistle-stop train tour into the Wild West would be an excellent idea.”

  Rosemary fought to control her gasp as she caught her father’s quick glance and his flicker of amusement. It happened so quickly, she was certain Mr. Cooper was none the wiser. Goosebumps again erupted on her skin, but this time it was from his praise of her work, not from his perusal of her. She closed the ledger book and cradled it close to her body, now greatly interested in what the man had to say.

  “If the Harry Hawk story is so good, why are you not interested in keeping the business, Mr. Cooper?” Rosemary queried.

  He brushed imaginary lint from his light brown suit before he faced her. His actions were almost as if he was trying to brush away her comment.

  “It’s a personal and family decision, young lady, and none of your concern.”

  George Fitzpatrick cleared his throat. “But it is of concern to a potential buyer. Is there some underlying reason why you would sell off a profitable business?”

  Mr. Cooper stared at George, and Rosemary was pleased to see her father did not flinch or break eye contact with the brash man. Mr. Cooper’s hands clenched into fists, and he placed them on top of the desk. He was obviously angry at her father’s direct line of questioning.

  “My reason for selling is to streamline my company. Is that a good enough answer for you? You can tell your potential buyers there’s nothing wrong with the business except for the fact my son is at the helm, and it’s not a good fit. It is a sound publishing house, despite what he has done to try to ruin it, and the Harry Hawk manuscript is enough of a reason why someone should buy it. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Indeed, Mr. Cooper. Now, let’s settle on a price for the business, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  Mr. Cooper may have been a brazen, uncompromising man with antiquated ideas about women, but he was an astute businessperson. The value he put on the publishing house robbed Rosemary of breath for a minute. She held the ledger against her body and wrapped her hands around it, holding on so tightly her fingers went white. He had asked for a lot of money. She had no idea if her father was willing to loan Henry such an exorbitant amount.

  As her father led Mr. Cooper out of his office and into the public portion of the bank, Rosemary paced the small room. Would Henry and Marguerite be able to buy the business from their father and keep him in the dark? Would her Harry Hawk story ever see the light of day? Would she and Henry ever marry? She had no answers yet.

  Her father finally returned and moved to her side. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. “Go and tell your fiancé we have a deal. Mr. Cooper certainly wants to be rid of the business in a hurry. He grossly undervalued the company, and I’d be a fool not to loan Henry the money. F.P. Elliott has done it again.”

  “Really, Papa? Mr. Cooper is asking for a lot of money, in my opinion. But you know better than I, since I only started perusing the balance sheets when he arrived. So, Henry can buy the company from his father? I can’t wait to tell him. Thank you.”

  She kissed his cheek with a loud smacking sound and turned quickly to run to Henry with the good news.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A few days later, Rosemary was in Henry’s office for her twice-weekly fencing lesson. Dressed in breeches and a flowing white shirt, she had caught her hair back into a queue resembling Henry’s, but had pulled her long hair up and caught the ends into the queue as well. She wanted no flying tendrils to distract her as they fenced. This would be a celebratory encounter, as his father agreed to the sale to an anonymous bidder, and the engagement was, at least tentatively, back on.

  Henry entered the office carrying two iron masks with metal see-through mesh. She studied the devices carefully.

  “What are these for?”

  “Well, you’re a quick study, and we’ve progressed to the next phase of instruction. You’ve learned all the basic moves, and we’re now going to engage each other in an actual bout.” He ran his hand slowly down her cheek, and paused to kiss her lips. “I wouldn’t want to harm your lovely face. So, we must wear some protection. Put this on.”

  Rosemary’s body reacted with a chill of excitement, from both the bout to come and from Henry’s touch. His kiss was as exciting as the fact they were actually going to practice the stances Henry had been drilling into her for weeks now in an actual exercise! She could hardly wait to best him. She quickly donned the vest he handed her and picked up her sword while Henry put on his protective gear.

  “En garde.” Rosemary’s gray eyes glimmered with excitement before she put on her mask.

  Henry nodded, and picked up his own sword. “Prêt.” He bowed to her.

  “Allez.” She countered, taking the stance for engagement. Their blades rang out as they touched. Henry smiled as he fended off her initial thrusts, but she grew bolder with each move, backing Henry into a corner. Too late, Rosemary realized it was a tactic of Henry’s, to lull her into thinking she was besting him. He performed a beautiful riposte, a simple, direct move that went from the parry position to the target. Which in this case was Rosemary herself.

  “Are you having fun?” Henry laughed as he wielded his sword.

  Henry was getting the best of the bout, as he toyed with Rosemary. He was about to take control of her weapon in a prise de fer and claim the prize of the bout, which would be another kiss, when the door swung open sharply. They both turned their swords toward the intruder.

  Maxwell Cooper stood in the doorway, eyes ablaze.

  Rosemary attempted to melt into the corner as Maxwell glared at his son.

  “Whatever are you doing? Henry, is this how you run my company? By turning it into a playing field for your fencing pastime?”

  The only sound in the room came from the chugging printing press one level down. Its noise was usually a comforting accompaniment to whatever went on upstairs, but right now, it set Rosemary’s teeth on edge. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, willing her breathing to even out as she waited for Henry to reply.

  She noticed his fingers tightening around the grip of the sword. He held it aloft for a few beats before lowering it, setting it carefully on the desk and removing his mask. He turned to face his father.

  “Why are you here, Father?”

  “To see that you clear out the office. The business was sold yesterday.”

  Henry’s lips formed a tight smile. “I believe the new owner is quite all right with me being here and with a little office swordplay.”

  “Oh? Have you already had a discussion with the new owner?”

  “Why yes, Father, I have. The new owner has decided that a bit of fencing, especially when it’s with one of the company’s most predominant dime novelists, is indeed a worthwhile endeavor.”

  Maxwell Cooper turned toward Rosemary, who stood silently in the corner.

  “This is F.P. Elliott? Show yourself, man.”

  Slowly, Rosemary lifted the mask from her face and turned toward Maxwell Cooper. His gasp of surprise almost made her smile.

  “Didn’t expect me, did you?”

  “But, but, you work at the bank, with your father. What are you doing here?”

  “In addition to working with my father, I also am an author. I was unable to thank you properly at the bank for your kind words about my writing, but I can do so now. I’m glad you thought so highly o
f my work you raised the price on the company. I hope Henry can market the book properly, so it will sell as many copies as you think it should. Maybe by including a whistle-stop train tour into the Wild West. I quite like that idea.”

  • • •

  Maxwell Cooper’s gaze ricocheted from Rosemary to Henry and back again. “So you were a stool pigeon? You ran to Henry with the news about my conversation with your father?”

  “I’ll handle this, Rosemary,” Henry replied, as he took the mask and sword from her hands. He faced his father. “Rosemary didn’t need to run to me with the results of your conversation with Mr. Fitzpatrick, Father, because I’d already had a conversation with him. I had guessed correctly that you’d probably sell the business rather than admit Marguerite has a brain in her head.”

  “Marguerite’s brain has nothing to do with this.”

  “Really? I don’t see it that way. You were willing to sell her off to the highest bidder when all she wanted to do was to make her own way in the world and try to find some of the same happiness you claim you had with Maman.”

  “Women need a man’s protection to make their way in the world, Henry. I don’t want to have to worry about her forever. I’m no longer a young man.”

  “No, Father, you’re not. The world is changing, and if you can’t change along with it, you should step aside. This publishing house has a few great authors, one of whom is in the form of a woman. This woman. My fiancée.” He pulled Rosemary to his side. “And it has a great mind keeping track of the finances, in the form of Marguerite. It also has a company head who is in no way threatened by either. I’m buying the business, Father. I signed the papers at the bank yesterday. I’ll run the company the way I see fit now, not the way you believe it should be run.”

  Henry’s lips formed a tight line as he spoke, but his face nearly split into a grin at his father’s varied reactions. Maxwell Cooper sputtered as he paced the room, taking in the comments. He turned once and lifted his hand, about to speak. Then he glanced at Henry and dropped his hand. But he didn’t turn away.

  “So it’s your company now, is it? And what are your intentions? To turn it into a fencing studio?”

  “Not at all. I intend to turn it into a profitable venture. Beginning with the creation of a monthly magazine geared to the people who live and work here in New York City. I’ve been paying close attention to James Lowell’s The Atlantic Monthly and seeing what works and what doesn’t with it. You think so highly of their organization, so I believe I should as well. I’m the first to admit you are a most astute businessman, even if your thinking is a bit backward. I’m going to offer a chapter a month from Rosemary’s next novel in the magazine, to stimulate sales. And we might implement your idea of a whistle-stop train book tour out west. I also think it’s a great idea.”

  Maxwell sputtered again, before he turned and left the room. He slammed the door on his way out.

  Rosemary reached out to Henry and wrapped him in her arms. They stood silently for a few minutes. Henry rested his chin on the top of her head, drinking in the fresh scent of her shampoo and her signature patchouli perfume. The physical activity they’d engaged in prior to Maxwell’s arrival had stimulated the release of the fragrance. Henry’s body calmed with the familiar odor and the embrace of this woman in his arms. Her body was becoming familiar to him as well.

  She reached up to him and gave him a kiss. “Do you think you and your father can ever mend fences?”

  Henry sighed. “I hope so, especially after what Marguerite told me about why he sent me away. I need to hear the whole story, and from him. If he truly loved my mother, instead of being embarrassed by her as I thought, it means he does have some feelings. If we can weather this storm, we could become, if not friends, at least civil to one another.”

  “I think you will. But now, since you are the owner of the company, does it truly mean your unconditional proposal of marriage to me is back on the table?”

  Henry took a step back, out of her embrace for a moment. “Well, yes, I guess it does. I did just call you my fiancée.”

  “Then my answer is yes. Let’s celebrate.”

  Henry smiled. “And how do you propose to celebrate?”

  “Let me show you.” Rosemary went on her tiptoes and kissed Henry with all the passion she had previously only shown in her writing. She backed him up to the wall, and he allowed her to do so. His knees were weakening with her ministrations, and the wall provided a welcome support. His tongue begged for admittance into her mouth, and her slight gasp allowed him access. Their tongues dueled, just as their swords had earlier. And, just as had happened earlier, he performed a riposte, going from the parry position to the target. He dribbled kisses down her swan-like neck, and opened the first few buttons on her shirt. His mouth claimed her exposed flesh as his own. His lips moved down her body, settling on the curve of her breast. He hoped his advances wouldn’t be brushed away.

  She shuddered under his hands, which were wrapped around her small waist. He pulled her toward him, so she could feel his erection. His manhood swelled even more at the contact, and he set up a rhythm against her. She moaned, a low, soft, sound that set him ablaze even further. One hand left her waist and captured a breast as he finished undoing the buttons of her shirt. She thrust forward to meet his embrace.

  “Oh, Henry.” Her whispered, drawn out words were wrapped in a sigh, but the force of them nearly buckled his knees. He lowered her to the rug behind his desk and pelted her body with more kisses. His lips encircled a nipple, and he suckled her, his tongue alternately pulling and laving. Her breathing developed a hitch as she struggled to control her emotions. Henry’s fingers were as busy as his mouth, fondling her other breast before they moved lower. He ran his hand down her body, over the swell of her hip, and began to loosen her breeches. She moaned again, and her body rose of its own accord to meet him.

  Henry pulled off her boots, tossing each to the floor with a thud. Her breeches slid off easily enough, and Henry had only a slip of cloth between himself and his prize. He pulled his eyes from Rosemary’s core, where her nub of sex awaited him, and, with a ragged breath, backed off and caught her questioning look.

  “If we don’t stop now, there will be no turning back.”

  In response, Rosemary reached up to capture his face, and brought his lips to hers. “I don’t want to stop. I need you as much as you need me, Henry. We just may have to speed up the wedding a bit.”

  “Perhaps I should lock the door, then.”

  Henry rose, and in a quick motion, locked the door to both the hallway and to Marguerite’s office, loosening his shirt and trousers the whole time. When he returned to her side, he quickly divested himself of his remaining attire, and lay next to her. His engorged member throbbed as he pelted Rosemary with more kisses. He ignored his own needs for a few moments, again feasting on her breasts and running his hands over her body, exploring her fully for the first time. He’d imagined this moment many times over the past several months, but the reality of it bested his most torrid fantasies. His fingers curled around her center, the springy dark hairs tickling his hand. Rosemary groaned in delight. And Henry did the same. She was damp with desire, and Henry’s hand became slick. He gently slid a finger into her, while his thumb grazed her little bundle of sex. She rose again, into his hand, her body matching the rhythm he set up.

  He could sense her reaching the edge of desire. Her body tensed, like a string on a violin, before she cried out one final time and slid over. He slowly eased up on his finger’s thrust, and pulled out, his eyes on her.

  Rosemary’s face was relaxed, and her eyes finally fluttered open.

  “My goodness, that was delightful,” she purred.

  “I’m afraid the next part won’t be so delightful, at least for a little while.”

  “Does it involve the use of this?” She wrapped her fingers around his manhood, and he gulped as her touch nearly made him spill his seed. Her fingers explored his long shaft. “So soft, and
yet so hard,” she murmured as her fingers slid up and down.

  Henry groaned, long and gutturally, lying on his back so he could enjoy her ministrations. Her grip became tighter, and her fingers moved up and down, setting up their own rhythm. Henry gritted his teeth. Such exquisite torture. He reached out to still her hand.

  “I want to be inside you.” He rolled over so he was on top of her, and positioned himself at her entrance. He tickled her core with his shaft and was pleased she was still damp for him. Her musky sex smell nearly drove him wild with desire. His now-slick manhood cautiously made its way home, an inch at a time. He’d been with other women before, but his experiences had never been so fulfilling. He wanted nothing more than to embed himself in Rosemary for the rest of his life.

  When he reached her maidenhood, he stopped and caressed the side of her face. “It will only hurt one time, I promise.”

  Rosemary stared up at him and then wriggled her body. “Then get on with it.”

  Henry grinned, and pushed his manhood through the barrier. Rosemary gasped and her body tightened. Tears clogged her eyes, but she blinked them away. Henry waited for her body to accept the intrusion.

  “Allez,” she whispered to him after a minute.

  He pulled his shaft out slightly, and plunged in again.

  Soon, their bodies were in sync, as they dueled with each other, thrusting and parrying with tongues and body parts instead of swords. Henry held himself in check as long as he could, since he wanted to make certain Rosemary’s first time was as good as he could make it. He sensed she was about to crest again when he let go, and he spilled into her as her muscles pulsed around his shaft, squeezing every drop of seed from him. His drenched body collapsed on top of hers, and they both fought for control of their breathing.

  He rolled off her small body slowly, and wrapped her in his arms. He tasted her sweet mouth yet again as they stared at each other. “I think we will really need to hasten the wedding, since I can’t abide being without you in my bed one more night.”