“I wasn’t aware Miss Flowerdew was even capable of speech,” the lady still standing on Wilhelmina’s hand said before she suddenly seemed to realize that she was, indeed, grinding Wilhelmina’s hand into the ground. Jumping to the left, she sent Wilhelmina a bit of a strained smile. “Do forgive me, Miss Radcliff. I fear with all the intrigue occurring at the moment, paired with hearing Miss Flowerdew string an entire sentence together, well, I evidently quite lost my head and simply didn’t notice I was standing on you.”
She thrust a hand Wilhelmina’s way. “I’m Miss Gertrude Cadwalader, paid companion to Mrs. Davenport. Please do accept my apologies for practically maiming you this evening, although rest assured, it is an unusual event for me to maim a person on a frequent basis.”
Taking the offered hand in hers—although she did so rather gingerly since her handhadalmost been maimed by Miss Cadwalader—Wilhelmina gave it a shake, a circumstance she still found a little peculiar, but resisted when Miss Cadwalader began trying to tug her to her feet.
“How fortunate for Mrs. Davenport that you don’t participate in maiming often,” she began. “But if you don’t mind, I prefer staying down here for the foreseeable future, since I have no desire for Mr. Wanamaker to take notice of me this evening.”
“Ah, so we really are in the midst of an intrigue,” Miss Cadwalader breathed before she straightened, squeezed her way through the first row of chairs, and then held out her hand to Miss Griswold, who’d been keeping her attention front and center. “We should hide her.”
Miss Griswold didn’t hesitate. Taking the hand offered her, she rose to her feet, shook out her skirts, sent Wilhelmina the smallest of smiles and turned front and center again. “Perhaps we should engage in conversation, Miss Cadwalader, in order to distract everyone from the idea we’re trying to hide someone.”
“Thatwould most assuredly draw unwanted attention,” Miss Cadwalader returned as she shook out her skirts, making them wider in the process. “You know no one is used to seeing wallflowers actually conversing with one an—”
Whatever else Miss Cadwalader had been about to say got lost when she let out a small squeak and motioned with a hand behind her back for Wilhelmina to stay down.
“Good evening, ladies,” a deep voice—one that Wilhelmina knew full well belonged, to Mr. Edgar Wanamaker—suddenly said. “I know this is very untoward of me, speaking to you without the benefit of a proper introduction, but I’ve just learned that the quadrille is about to begin. As I’m sure you’re well aware, those particular dances can take quite a bit of time to perform. I’m hoping you’ll take pity on a weary gentleman and allow that gentleman, as in me, to join you on those oh-so-delightful-looking chairs as we watch the chosen guests perform their well-rehearsed dance steps.”
“Ah ... well ... as to that,” Miss Cadwalader began. “You see ... ah...”
“Did I mention that I brought treats?” Edgar continued.
“Treats?” Miss Cadwalader repeated. “What type of treats?”
“Miss Cadwalader, you’re becoming distracted from the mission at hand,” Miss Griswold whispered in a voice that still carried.
“But I’m starving, and you know that it’s a rare occasion for a real-live gentleman to bring us treats.”
Edgar, Wilhelmina couldn’t help but recall, had always possessed a remarkably kind heart, never one to slight a person simply because they weren’t acquainted with the right people or possessed of the right fortune. She’d not allowed herself to dwell on his kindness over the last few years—the memory of that particular trait a sore reminder of what she’d so carelessly discarded in her youth.
A sharp ringing of a bell suddenly split the air, signaling that the quadrille was soon to begin. Realizing that the ladies shielding her from view were going to have to take their seats, Wilhelmina began backing as quickly as she could underneath the chair behind her, her only thought being to make an escape as quietly as possible. She’d gotten halfway underneath the chair before her bustle, dratted contraption that it was, snagged on the underside of the chair. Before she could get herself free, a loud clearing of a throat sent a sense of dread flowing through her veins.
Lifting her head, she refused a sigh when her gaze was caught and held by none other than the gentleman she’d been hoping to avoid. Mr. Edgar Wanamaker.
Chapter
Two
“Would you mind holding this platter of treats for me?” Edgar asked of a young lady standing beside him—a young lady who happened to be sporting, curiously enough, a hairstyle that had golden curls springing haphazardly around her head as if someone had lost all control of a hot curling tong.
“Ah, well, yes, of course,” the young lady replied, taking the platter he immediately thrust her way. But then, instead of stepping aside or taking her seat, the lady lifted her chin and moved directly between him and his prey—that prey being Miss Wilhelmina Radcliff. “We haven’t been introduced,” she continued with a hint of stubbornness in her green eyes. “And since our hostess is nowhere to be found, nor I imagine, will she materialize in the wallflower section anytime soon, we’ll need to take care of the introduction business in a less-than-proper manner—which is to say, we’ll have to do it ourselves. I’m Miss Gertrude Cadwalader.”
Edgar’s lips took to twitching. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cadwalader.” He extended her a bow. “I’m Mr. Edgar Wanamaker.”
Miss Cadwalader dipped into a small curtsy, almost losing the platter of treats in the process, a situation she quickly remedied by pushing the platter into the hands of the lady standing beside her. That lady was dressed to perfection in a dress of the latest style, her perfectly coiffed red hair secured on top of her head with what appeared to be a genuine diamond comb. Her eyes, a lovely shade of blue, were twinkling back at him with what almost seemed to be a large dollop of amusement in them.
“How lovely to meet you, Mr. Wanamaker,” Miss Cadwalader continued. “And since you and I have now been introduced—although not properly, I daresay—allow me to present Miss Permilia Griswold.”
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Griswold,” Edgar said as he sent a bow Miss Griswold’s way. “However, before more pleasantries can be exchanged, I have a matter of the utmost importance to attend to—that matter concerning the lady still trying to make what appears to be a less than stealthy attempt at escape.” He turned and set his sights on Wilhelmina once again.
Interestingly enough, while he’d been conversing with the ladies who’d evidently been tasked with hiding Wilhelmina from view—the evidence of that notion being that the two ladies had taken to mumbling apologies to her under their breaths—Wilhelmina had obviously been trying to slip farther under the chair. The result of that nasty business, however, had simply led to her now appearing to be well and truly stuck.
Pushing his way through the first row of chairs, he tilted his head and allowed himself the luxury of simply considering Wilhelmina for a long moment. The years they’d been apart hadn’t changed her appearance much, except that she was now a more mature lady—being almost twenty-five instead of the near infant she’d been at seventeen. Her brown hair was swept up in a simple style away from her face, and the hint of pink staining her cheeks lent her a charming air, one that suggested she was getting a bit flustered. That idea had his lips curving straight into a smile as he leaned down and caught her eye.
“Honestly, Willie, in all the years we’ve been apart, I never once considered the idea that when I finally returned to New York society, you’d go to such extremes to avoid me.”
Wilhelmina’s hazel eyes immediately took to flashing. “I don’t like it when you call me Willie. And who said I’m attempting to avoidyou?”
The flashing, an immediate reminder of Wilhelmina’s adorable temper, had his smile turning into a grin. “Since these delightful young ladies were trying their very best to distract me from seeing you—and they were doing a remarkably credible job until I caught sight of the top of that chair you’re under moving—I don’t understand why you’re arguing with me.”
