An Unconventional Courtship
Page 1
An Unconventional Courtship
Becky Lower
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2015 by Becky Lower.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-8943-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8943-0
eISBN 10: 1-4405-8944-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8944-7
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © iStockphoto.com/meshaphoto
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
More from This Author
Also Available
CHAPTER ONE
New York City, April 1829
Charlotte Ashcroft led her best friend, Emma, into her bedroom and closed the door. The lock slid into place with a satisfying click. They fell onto the bed together in a pile of giggles.
Charlotte put her hand to her stomach. “I thought dinner tonight would never wind up. All that talk from Mother about your brother ‘coming home from college in a month and what a fine catch he’d be.’”
“Well, he would be a fine catch for someone, just not for you, Charlotte. As much as I’d love for us to be sisters, let’s face facts—Theo’s a boor. All he wants to do is chase after women and drink with his Harvard chums.”
“That much is true. The couple of times I’ve met Theo, he hasn’t made my heart speed up. Besides, as much as I’d love loads of children, I’m not sure marriage is for me. Where’s the equality in that? A woman becomes a man’s property once she says ‘I do.’ I don’t ever want to become a man’s chattel. It would take a very special man to interest me, and I’m afraid Theo isn’t it. But there is no other man on the horizon, Emma, for either of us. We must do something to rectify our sorry state of affairs.”
“And how are we to do that, pray tell?”
“We need to do something exciting.” Charlotte tapped her teeth with her fingers as she pondered.
“You’re planning something, and I can bet it’s not going to be good. You always come up with outrageous ideas that get me in trouble. Last time, I wasn’t allowed out of the house for a month.”
Charlotte’s gaze focused, and she gave Emma a shrug of her shoulder as she picked up an after dinner mint and popped it into her mouth. “On the contrary. It will be immensely good fun. You can stay home if you want.” She wanted to draw out Emma’s reaction, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the taste of the strong mint.
“Stay home from what? What are you planning?”
Charlotte moved across the room to her desk and took a newspaper clipping from a cubbyhole. “Here it is.”
She handed the story to Emma.
“Frances Wright is speaking on women’s rights in two days’ time, right here in New York City. We must go and see Fanny. I adore her.”
Emma cast a glance at her friend, her brow furrowed.
Charlotte smiled. “None of your skepticism, Emma, please.”
“Well, if ever there was cause for skepticism, this is it. You’re now on a first name basis with one of the foremost speakers for women’s rights? Since when? Besides, our mothers won’t allow it.”
“So, we won’t tell them.”
“And how are we going to manage to keep it a secret?”
Charlotte flopped back onto her bed, her bell-shaped, jonquil satin skirt billowing out around her. She smoothed out all the flounces before she replied. “We’ll tell our mothers we’re going to the park after church is over, and we’ll take Katie with us. After all, the speech takes place at one o’clock in the afternoon, so our timing will be perfect.” They both knew it was perfectly acceptable for single ladies to be on the streets during the day if they were properly chaperoned, as they would be if Katie, Emma’s lady’s maid, could be persuaded to join them. “And Katie’s as much an advocate of women’s rights as we are. It’ll be fun.”
Emma fanned the newspaper clipping before her as if it were a hot August day and she was melting like chocolate in the sun. “It is a nice idea, if somewhat flawed. If we’re going to see ‘Fanny,’ we’re going to need some sort of conveyance. It’s one thing for us to walk from your house to mine or take a leisurely stroll through the park, but Miss Wright’s event is going to be all the way downtown. How do we get there without revealing to our families what we’re doing?”
“That’s the only dilemma facing us. And I, of course, have the answer. I think we should try New York’s new omnibus service. I’ve been dying to ride on it. It’s dashing, and exciting.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open at Charlotte’s statement. “Ooh, Charlotte, we can’t ride the omnibus without a male escort. All manner of New Yorkers ride on that thing. Even with Katie, it’s just not done.”
“Well, it’s high time it is done! For heaven’s sake, we are going to a rally for women’s rights, Emma. Are we going to slink in with our tails between our legs, or are we going to hold our heads high and walk in as if we own the place?”
“Well …”
“Then we’re on. Let’s plan what we’ll wear.”
• • •
Charlotte herded her charges—Emma and Katie—onto the large omnibus, which was basically an oversized carriage with room for about twenty hardy souls inside. For a lesser fare, a seat on the top of the bus, open to the elements, could be had. Regardless of the price, no ladies ever rode out in the open. Charlotte stopped and glanced up at the men seated on the top. One young man in particular caught her eye as he tipped his bowler hat to her.
“Shall we join the merry men on the top of the bus?” she asked her friends half-jokingly. She would appreciate getting a closer look at the nice gentleman with the jaunty, blue hat that sported a small feather at the brim. And all the men sitting on top of the bus seemed to be having fun, unlike those stuffed like sardines inside the conveyance.
Emma and Katie squealed unhappily at the idea. With a shrug of her shoulders, Charlotte nodded her head and smiled at the young man before she joined her more timid friends inside the bus. An assortment of men and women were crammed into the seats, and the four horses attached to the bus strained under the load. Soon, they were underway down Broadway to lower Manhattan.
Many stops later, Charlotte and her friends arrived at their destination. As she exited the omnibus, Charlotte cast a glance to the top, searching for the young man who had caught her eye earlier. He was no longer there. She sighed softly. They were ships passing in the night. In a city the size of New York, the chances of running into one person again were slim. He would become merely a fragment of a memory of the day she’d spent listening to one of the premier advocates for women’s equality and being slightly scandalous herself. With a smile on her face, she planted herself between her friends, taking their arms.
“Let’s move on to t
he second part of our big adventure, shall we, and hear what Fanny Wright has to say to us. The omnibus ride was fun, don’t you think?”
Emma laughed out loud. “Which part? The smelly man next to me or the young man who pinched my bottom?”
“How about you, Katie?” Perhaps Charlotte had been too lost in thought about the man above her to pay close attention to what was going on around her.
“There was one young man sitting next to me who seemed to take quite a shine to me. He’s a blacksmith. His arms and shoulders were enormous! His name is Carrick McCray, and I told him I’d be taking a stroll with you ladies in the park tomorrow afternoon, if he were so inclined to join us.”
“See what an exciting day it’s been already? And we’ve yet to hear Fanny.”
“Charlotte? Is that you?”
Charlotte cringed inside her Sunday best, lavender dress. She knew that voice. Accepting her fate, she turned to face the old busybody.
“Well, hello there, Mrs. Beasley. How are you this fine Sunday afternoon? Are you also planning to attend Frances Wright’s speech?”
Mrs. Beasley’s spine straightened at the suggestion, and her gaze pierced Charlotte. “Heavens, no. I have no wish to fill my head with such nonsense. Where is your mother? I should say hello.”
“Mother’s not with us today. We took the omnibus to get here.”
“What? Without a male escort? Is your mother aware of what you’re doing, young lady?”
Charlotte glanced around the street where they had been dropped off. Suddenly, she spied a familiar hat in the crowd. A blue hat with a feather tucked into the grosgrain ribbon. Her heart began to race as he came toward her.
“Ah, but we do have a proper male escort.” She wrapped her hand around the man’s arm, bringing him, if somewhat reluctantly, to her side. “This is our chaperone, Mrs. Beasley.” Charlotte turned her eyes toward the man and held her breath, silently pleading with him to catch on to her plight.
He executed a proper bow toward Mrs. Beasley, and Charlotte let out her breath a bit at a time. “George Fitzpatrick, at your service, Mrs. Beasley.”
Mrs. Beasley’s face was still full of disdain. “George Fitzpatrick? I’ve never heard of you. Just how do you know Charlotte Ashcroft?”
“We’re old friends who love adventure. When I decided to escort Charlotte and her lady friends on their outing today, we thought an omnibus ride would be a delightful way to get there. And it certainly has proven to be so.”
Mrs. Beasley was somewhat mollified, if not totally convinced, sending a loud harrumph” their way before she moved on.
“Oh, Mr. Fitzpatrick, thank you ever so much. We would have been in grave trouble if not for you.” Charlotte fawned over the man.
“Well, since I’ve saved you from your current peril, and since we don’t know who else you’ll run into, perhaps I should finish the job you’ve assigned me to and escort you ladies to your final destination? May I meet the other ladies in your party?”
Charlotte quickly introduced him to Emma and Katie but did not yield her hold on his arm.
They found their way to the Hall of Science where Miss Wright was speaking, and George insisted on paying the entry fee for the four of them. They found enough open seats to sit together and moved to the chairs. Charlotte waited for Emma and Katie to claim a seat, and then she sat next to them, leaving only one remaining empty spot. Next to her alone. She smiled at her craftiness.
He took the seat beside her then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Mrs. Beasley was right. Young ladies such as you could get into a lot of trouble without a proper escort. I’m offering my services to you, absolutely free of charge, for the remainder of the afternoon.”
Charlotte’s laugh bubbled up. “I have a feeling, sir, you’re the biggest trouble I can get into today.”
He finally removed her hand from his arm and gave her a stern look. “I’m not the one who began such underhandedness, Miss Ashcroft, and I didn’t appreciate you putting me in the position of deceiving Mrs. Beasley, however refreshing the encounter with you might have been.”
She straightened in her chair as Emma and Katie glanced her way. She did so hate being put in her place, regardless of how appealing the gentleman was. And why did he remove her hand from his arm? Did he not feel the same tingle when they touched? “Perhaps you’re not the man I thought you were. What about all your talk of a grand adventure?”
“Believe me, today has been an adventure. Let’s listen to Miss Wright, shall we? After all, her speech is why you’re here, is it not?”
“You are free to leave anytime you desire, sir. I happen to believe in Miss Wright’s stand on the rights of women. But if you don’t share those beliefs, you may go. ”
She smoothed out her lavender skirt, and in the process, her hand brushed his leg, which was scandalously close to hers. She pulled her hand back quickly, as if she’d been burned. Perhaps she had.
Regardless of her statement that he was free to leave, she hoped he would stay. She’d never been this close to a man before, even an escort. Her stomach was quivering, and her palms were damp. Thank goodness her gloves hid that fact. She had a feeling her life was about to be turned upside down by a man in a jaunty, blue bowler hat. She couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER TWO
There was no logical explanation for his behavior. All George could grasp, from the moment he’d spied this lovely blonde woman now sitting beside him, was how his world had tilted. One glance into her deep brown eyes, and he couldn’t add two sums together. A brown-eyed blonde was an anomaly, but she was proving to be unusual in more than her coloring. She was young and exciting as she skated perilously close to scandal.
He prided himself on being a respectable member of society. He had steady employment at one of the largest banks in the city, and he always reported for work on time. His suits were impeccable, befitting a young banker. His hats, however, were where he revealed his true personality. While he donned a top hat during the week, his weekend hats were quite different. He had a particular fondness for the one he had on today. The feather he’d placed on it before he set off this morning had been the finishing touch the bowler hat needed.
His personality may indeed be a bit more exciting than the staid exterior he had to show to the world, but Miss Ashcroft was breaking all kinds of society’s rules simply by being here, in this hall, unescorted. Not to mention taking public transport to get to her destination. She was the most exciting woman he’d ever come across, and the most dangerous. He stole a sidelong glance. Her expression was rapt as she listened to Fanny Wright. As if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if she hadn’t just lied outrageously in front of her mother’s friend. As if she knew who he was.
Miss Wright was getting into the heart of her speech, delivering her statements with a flourish.
The only word George caught was “experiment,” something he had definitely been part of this afternoon. He still wasn’t sure it set well with him or his orderly life, however adventurous the spirit that lurked under his fine linen shirts and frock coats.
He leaned over again, inhaling Charlotte’s scent of lilac water, and stopped thinking. All he could do was focus on her profile, which was quite lovely. He should say something, anything. “Even though I’ve been introduced to the unpleasant Mrs. Beasley we haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m George Fitzpatrick, and I’m in the business of finance. My father owns a bank and I work with him.”
She tapped his arm with her fan, admonishing him. “Shh. I’m trying to listen to Miss Wright.”
“I do believe I saved your hide today. The least you could do to pay me back is to speak in a civil tone to me.”
She turned in her seat and stared at him, her chin rising in feigned annoyance. He could tell it was feigned because of the twinkle in her eyes. “Well, your services are no longer needed. If you persist in disturbing me, I shall have you hauled off by the security forces.” She could barely control the laugh in her voice.
She grinned, the sparkle even stronger in her eyes. His face split into a grin as well. “You’re correct, and my behavior has been out of line. However, I’m glad of it, since otherwise we would never have met,” she whispered. “I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Ashcroft. Now hush, so I can hear the last of Fanny’s speech.”
Charlotte. The name had been rolling over and over in his mind since he first heard the dreadful Mrs. Beasley refer to the woman now sitting beside him. A lovely name. A lovely woman. George settled back into his chair but kept his eyes on her. He enjoyed how her bonnet had only a shallow brim, so he could see her face, even when sitting to the side of her. Her lashes were long, and created shadows on her cheeks. And lovely cheeks they were, the skin unblemished and almost porcelain-like. The words coming from Frances Wright buzzed around his head like honeybees, but none were making their way into his mind. He shouldn’t be entranced by the daring Charlotte. As a matter of fact, he should stay as far away as possible from her. The kind of upheaval a woman like this would bring to his life was not something he should be entertaining. Not at all. He was better suited to Jane Weymouth, his father’s pick for him. He tried to formulate a picture of Jane in his mind, but his eyes kept straying to Miss Ashcroft instead. Jane had dark hair, didn’t she? He couldn’t remember. Charlotte’s blonde locks kept clouding his vision.
He could tell from the way she herded her two friends along that Charlotte was the ringleader of their merry little band. The troublemaker. Life with her would be one bold adventure after another. When she had corralled her friends and tossed aside their laments about how risky their behavior was as they got on the bus, George could tell she would be good with children. He did want children. He wondered if Jane wanted any. She’d never expressed a desire to, but then, they’d only been with each other a handful of times, and their conversation had never gotten so personal. Then he wondered why he was thinking of potential children as he sat next to this woman.