The Duplicitous Debutante (Cotillion Ball Book 6)

by Becky Lower

  “But I don’t love him, Father. He is annoying, even if he is more wealthy than you are.”

  “It would be an excellent match, Marguerite. Two of Boston’s oldest names joining together. You could be a powerful force in society.”

  “But if I don’t love him, what’s the point? Don’t you want me to have the kind of love you did with Maman?”

  “No! I never want you to be so desperate. It’s much better if your feelings are not involved. I paid dearly, for years, for loving your mother instead of someone suitable.”

  Marguerite began to pace the room. Her rose-colored satin skirt swished softly against the floorboards as she walked. “Well, I will not agree to an arranged marriage. I want the kind of love Henry has found. Nothing else will do.”

  “What?” Maxwell’s head snapped around to Henry again. “You have found a woman to marry? Here, in New York?”

  “Yes, Father, I have. A lovely lady from a prominent New York family. I think even you will be impressed.”

  “Have you asked for her hand yet?”

  “She is aware of my intentions.”

  “Marguerite, sit, for God’s sake!” Maxwell Cooper’s voice rose as he eyed his offspring, who was still pacing the room. She returned to the seat beside her father. “All right, you two. I’ve had enough of your games. Marguerite must come home and marry Arthur Putnam. And I don’t give a tinker’s damn about meeting your lady from a prominent family, Henry. You can’t very well marry her if you have no source of income to sustain the two of you. And you won’t, if you defy my wishes and give Marguerite refuge and a position here. I’ll sell the company.”

  Henry peered over the desk at his father. “You’re telling me the only way you’ll keep the company is if Marguerite returns to Boston and marries a man she doesn’t love? I’m supposed to agree to this? Consign her to a miserable life just to save this company from a sell-out? To offer Marguerite up as chattel so I can retain my position with this company? I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t allow that to happen. Marguerite deserves to be happy, as happy as you claim you were with Maman. Sell the company if you want to be so petty. Neither of us is returning to Boston anytime soon.”

  Marguerite’s eyes were filled with tears. “Henry, you realize you can’t marry if you have no job. Perhaps it’s best if I do Father’s bidding.”

  Henry jumped to his feet. “No! Father, you sent me away once, when I was a mere boy and couldn’t fight you. But I can fight back now.” He opened the desk drawer and drew out the folder containing Rosemary’s latest story. “Let’s suspend our conversation for the evening, since neither of us is willing to give in, and emotions are getting heated. Before we each say things neither of us can take back, we should stop. Take this manuscript back to the hotel and read it. It’s the newest story from F.P. Elliott. If you sell the company, you’ll be giving away the rights to the folder’s contents, as well as the rights to our other authors. Think carefully about how much money you’ll stand to lose.”

  His father snatched the folder and rose as well. “I’ll find my own way back to the hotel. I don’t need either of you obstinate children to accompany me. I’ll read this story, but don’t expect it to change my mind. I’ll sell the company if that’s the only way to bring the two of you into line. Then Marguerite will have no choice except to return home and marry Arthur. His family is one of the oldest in Boston, and he will bring a lot of wealth to the table, so I don’t need to worry about a financial setback from the early sale of this pitiful excuse of a company. I’ve actually been expecting an outcome such as this. You aren’t able to run a business, Henry. I’ve sent a boy to do a man’s job.”

  As his father huffed out of the room, Henry sank back into his chair. His eyes connected with Marguerite’s, and he smiled slightly. “That went well, don’t you think?”

  Marguerite matched his small smile. “Let’s hope Rosemary’s story can work its magic on Father.”

  “Yes, magic is definitely called for.” It was a long shot, but his father was an astute businessman and could see the value in keeping the company in the family, even if he objected to which members of the family were involved. If not, Henry would need to rely on Mr. Fitzpatrick to pull off a buy-out on behalf of an anonymous party. And then hope to hell his father wouldn’t ask too many questions.

  • • •

  Rosemary hadn’t yet met the man who was destroying her life, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to meet the elder Mr. Cooper. To send Henry away from all he’d ever known, from his only sister, at a time when they’d needed each other the most, had been excessively cruel, regardless of his reasons. She’d already formed her opinion of his character.

  Although, if things went well between Henry and his father, the man would become her father-in-law. Actually, even if things didn’t go well between Henry and his father, and Mr. Cooper did something totally despicable, such as sell the company out from under Henry, he would still end up becoming her father-in-law sooner or later. It would just be a lot harder to find any love for him.

  The situation was not ideal, but she’d make the best of it. She was certain even if Henry was left without a job, he’d find something else soon enough. New York was full of small publishing houses, and they would not turn their back on such a talented man. And such a handsome one. He’d be good for their business, whatever business it might be. Then they could marry, as they had planned.

  She chewed on her fingernail as she tried to find something to do with herself. Too nervous to write anything, she had picked up a book from her father’s library, but could not get sucked into the story as she usually could. So she stared out the window instead. Even though it was long past the dinner hour, carriages drove by on the cobblestone streets as people went about their evening’s activities. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the hard stone usually soothed her, but not tonight.

  As Rosemary stood at the window, she thought of the folks inside the carriages and what their lives encompassed. Had any of the women been as duplicitous as she had been in their quest to capture a husband? No, she corrected herself. She was not duplicitous in her quest to gain a husband. Merely in her quest to retain her position as an author, although the two did overlap. She supposed getting un-engaged in the same hour she got engaged was fitting punishment for what she had done, whatever the reason had been. And, to be quite honest, there had been more than a little duplicity in her intentions toward Henry. She’d followed her mother’s advice and made certain he was in love with her before she’d opened the door to her own heart.

  Her vision blurred as sudden tears filled her eyes. Bosh. You’re getting every measure of what you deserve for toying with Henry’s affections. It’s his turn now to toy with yours. Somehow, being able to justify it, and to give Henry an excuse, didn’t make her feel any better. She turned from the window, scrubbing the tears away, as soft footsteps came down the hallway. Her mother opened the door to the library and stuck her head inside.

  “There you are,” she began the conversation without preamble. “I wondered where you’d flitted off to. You were awfully quiet at dinner, dear. Is something wrong?” Charlotte came into the room and took Rosemary’s hand.

  “Yes, Mother. Everything that could go wrong has. I finally revealed to Henry who F.P. Elliott really is when I turned in the last story under contract.”

  “That’s wonderful news, is it not? You can cease the subterfuge now. What a relief, since we never could fashion a good stand-in for Mr. Elliott. How can it have gone so wrong, as you say?”

  Rosemary took a seat alongside her mother. She wrung her hands, her ink-stained fingers lacing together. “There’s more to what happened today than telling him who I really am. In fact, he told me he’d known for a month or so I was really F.P.”

  “Really? Why didn’t he remove the burden from you then? Did he want you to continue to be tormented? That’s not the Henry I know.”

  “He thought it was important for me to trust him enough to
tell him myself, rather than be exposed.”

  Charlotte smoothed Rosemary’s hair as she thought for a moment. “I suppose it does make sense. So, how did he take it when you finally did reveal yourself?”

  “He proposed to me.”

  “What? You’re just now telling me your news? And why are you so glum about it?” Charlotte placed her hand over her heart. “Don’t tell me you turned him down. He and Marguerite would be such lovely additions to our family.”

  Rosemary’s tears began to fall again. “No, Mother. I love him, and want nothing more than to marry him. I agree Marguerite would be a wonderful sister-in-law. But he recanted his offer within an hour of asking me.”

  “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Because of his father, who’s upset about Marguerite’s move to New York and turning her back on the man he’s chosen for her to marry. Henry is certain his father will now sell the New York branch of the business in an attempt to make his children fall into line. Which means Henry will be out of a job. And without a job, he won’t marry. Even though I’ve told him I can earn my own money. I’ve never even met his father, but the man is ruining my life! He should return to Boston and leave us alone.”

  Charlotte reached over and took one of Rosemary’s hands to stop her incessant wringing. “You’ve always been such a lovely mix of quiet and melodrama. I’m certain, if Henry’s father does offer the company for sale, Henry has a foolproof plan in place. He won’t let you go now that he’s found you.”

  “I wish I could be as confident as you, Mother.”

  “Well, your father can keep nothing from me, as you are well aware. And he’s told me of Henry’s sound business plan for a takeover of the company. It’s a wonderful idea, and I’m sure it will work.”

  “Oh, I hope so. Henry told me some of what he and Papa discussed, but I was a bit distracted. Henry did mention children before he took back his proposal. Can you imagine, me running after tiny versions of Henry?” Rosemary sighed as she slid back into the settee.

  “Or tiny Rosemarys. You were such a beautiful baby, with your big, gray eyes. So dry your tears and go write something. Your career as an author is not over, nor is your engagement. It’s just hit a temporary snag.”

  Rosemary stood. “You’re right, Mother. And I do have an idea for a new book, about the California Gold Rush, or maybe the Comstock silver lode in Utah Territory. I was planning to start on it tonight.”

  Charlotte stood alongside her daughter and grabbed her into a hug. “That’s my girl. Go be creative. The best way to repay the elder Mr. Cooper for interrupting your lives is to write the best books possible and to be an outrageous success. Make him regret his decision to sell, if it is truly his intention.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  At breakfast the following morning, Rosemary played with her food, tearing a blueberry muffin into tiny bits and dropping them onto her plate, which was already brimming over with fried eggs, ham, and toast. She speared an egg yolk with the corner of her toast, its yellow gooeyness spreading over the plate. She positioned her bits of muffin alongside the yolk, forming a barricade to stop its movement. Exactly what she needed to do with her heart again. Form a wall against Henry’s father’s ability to hurt her.

  Her mother paid no attention, since she had her focus on Saffron, who was a notorious picky eater. Her father finally raised his eyes from his paper and glanced at Rosemary. Her own loss of appetite did not go unnoticed.

  “If you don’t eat something, Rosemary, you’re going to waste away to nothing. You’re already so thin. Next thing you know we’ll have to invent more adult methods to get some food in you, as we do with Saffron. Cook won’t be happy if a plate comes back to her kitchen barely touched. And I am so anticipating her wonderful Wednesday morning banana bread tomorrow.”

  Rosemary set down the remains of the muffin and brushed her fingers together to rid herself of crumbs.

  “Sorry, Papa. I’m a bit distracted today, and I have no appetite.”

  “Yes, I can see that. And I think I can help. We’ll play a few games of our own. Will you meet me at the bank this afternoon?”

  “Of course, if you want me to. Is there a special reason?”

  “Indeed there is. Henry’s father has scheduled an appointment with me for one o’clock. It seems he has a business he wants to sell.”

  Rosemary’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced at her father. “Oh, no. Surely you’re not going to help him, are you?”

  Her mother stood, along with Saffron. “Tell Rosemary of your plan, George.” She brushed a hand over Rosemary’s hair before she left the room. “You’ll be pleased, I’m sure,” she said. She hurried out of the room, taking Saffron with her. Rosemary turned her attention back to her father.

  “What plan?”

  “I think if the man is so behind the times that he wants to sell a business simply to keep his daughter from working there, he needs to be accommodated. Men such as Maxwell Cooper don’t belong in the publishing business. Not in New York City, anyway. He must bring his thinking into the nineteenth century. And what better way to drive home the point than to have you there with me, eager to learn the banking business?”

  Rosemary smiled through her tears. “It would send a statement, wouldn’t it?”

  “It may not be enough to make Cooper rethink his stance on women in the workplace, but you will at least be able to find out exactly what kind of proposition he is putting forth for the potential sale of the business. I’ve already told Henry the bank would loan him the money he needs if it’s a prudent investment. And the bank can accomplish the sale to an anonymous buyer without Mr. Cooper ever knowing to whom he’s selling. You can go directly from the bank to Henry and tell him what the elder Mr. Cooper’s demands are.”

  “Has anyone ever said you are one clever, devious man, Papa?”

  “Yes, but it never gets old. Especially when it comes from one of my children. Now, dry your tears, and I’ll see you later today. I must get to work.”

  George snapped the newspaper shut and placed it on the table. He rose and leaned over Rosemary, placing a kiss on her cheek before he left the room. “Eat up, please. I want my banana bread tomorrow.”

  She picked up a bite-sized piece of muffin and, for the first time that morning, relished its buttery goodness. She could see the benefit in meeting Mr. Cooper while her involvement with Henry and Marguerite remained unknown. Yes, she could create another deception. This time she’d be a dutiful daughter learning the family business, and learn instead what kind of man she had pitted herself against. Perhaps she had removed all the duplicity between herself and Henry, but it didn’t extend to his father. She could be duplicitous once again.

  • • •

  Rosemary settled quietly into a seat across from her father’s desk and smoothed her skirt. She had dressed in what she hoped was appropriate business attire. She had on her Phoebe Wyatt clothing of a white blouse, brown pinstriped satin skirt with only petticoats instead of a hoop, and a splash of subtle color tied around her waist.

  He handed her a ledger to skim over, so she could actually gain an air of authenticity while attempting to pull off this latest ruse. When she glanced at the title of the document, she was surprised to discover it was a profit and loss statement from Henry about Cooper and Son, New York division. The various authors who were represented each had their own entry detailing how much it cost to produce the books, how much revenue was generated, and how much was paid out in royalties. Rosemary didn’t need to feign an interest. She was engrossed in the minutiae about the company by the time Maxwell Cooper arrived.

  He was shown into the room as Rosemary and her father rose from their seats. Rosemary’s first impression of Maxwell Cooper was of a well-dressed, highbred man, with a patrician nose and pale blue eyes. He was slim, but not skinny, and exuded an air of superiority. She searched his face for any trace of Henry, but could see none of his features in the elder Mr. Cooper. Thankfully, their lack of
sameness was also apparent in their approaches to working women. Mr. Cooper’s manicured fingernails caught her attention as she extended her hand to him. He didn’t shake her hand, as he had her father’s. Rather, he wrapped his hand around hers and bowed over them. Rosemary put a tight smile on her face as his different approaches to the two of them was not lost on her.

  “Please, take a seat, Mr. Cooper,” her father said as they situated themselves. “My daughter, Rosemary, has only recently joined my bank as an employee and is learning the business. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in on our meeting.”

  Maxwell Cooper’s gaze slid slowly over Rosemary, and goosebumps cropped up on her skin. This man was cold. Her pity for Henry and his treatment at the hands of his father was renewed. She had to mask her distaste for him. Fortunately, she was by now a professional at wearing a mask. But she still breathed a silent sigh of relief when he turned his gaze instead to her father.

  “Most unusual, isn’t it, Mr. Fitzpatrick? For a woman to be an employee? Even if she is your daughter.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Cooper. One of my other daughters worked here several years ago, until she married and moved west, and was quite the whiz at picking solid investments for our customers. It’s been my experience that women are a great asset to business, as their minds more easily grasp details. It does make sense, does it not? One only has to consider how many details go into the business of them getting dressed in the morning to understand why. My house is filled to overflowing with my wife and daughters, and their various laces, pins, and ribbons. But enough of that. Let’s talk about why you’re here today.”

  Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his chair. “What I want to discuss with you is my business here in town, which I want to sell. I’m hoping you can assist me in my endeavor.”