A Most Peculiar Circumstance (9 page)

“Oh, here we go again,” Agatha said as they came to a stop in front of a closed door. “Just wait, Arabella. You’re in for a rough time of it because your brother and Eliza can be quite nauseating to be around at times.” She let out a grunt. “It’s beyond embarrassing when they ogle each other. They try to be discreet, but I catch them at it all the time. You’ll soon be like me, finding any reason to stare at ceilings, watch the dust float by, or one time I was forced to pretend I was picking a scab.”

Eliza’s mouth dropped open. “That’s revolting.”

“Not when compared to your behavior with Hamilton.”

“When you have a husband, dear, you’ll behave exactly the same way.”

“Yes, I’m so looking forward to that,” Agatha said. “You do realize you called me
dear
, exactly like my mother.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Eliza said. She shrugged. “Marriage has obviously matured me.”

“It’s turned you a bit nutty,” Agatha countered.

“Yes, well, enough about me,” Eliza said as she turned to Arabella. “I’m dying to know what happened between you and Theodore.”

Arabella reached out and turned the knob on the door to her private suite of rooms, stepping aside as she ushered Eliza and Agatha in. To her relief, Eliza seemed to forget all about Theodore when she stepped into the room.

“It’s pink,” Eliza proclaimed.

“Shockingly pink,” Agatha added as she strode across the floor and headed for a large bookcase that spanned the opposite wall. “Are these all romance novels?” she asked as she ran her finger along some of their spines.

Arabella smiled. “I do enjoy a good romance, but . . . don’t let that information be known to just anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“What did Theodore say when he learned you read romance?” Eliza asked.

Arabella moved to a comfortable chaise upholstered in soft pink and rose, took a seat, and patted the cushion beside her, waiting until Eliza took a seat before she spoke. “I don’t think he’s aware of my reading preferences, except for the newspaper. I keep telling everyone that Theodore and I did not spend an exorbitant amount of time chatting, yet no one seems to believe me.”

“I’ve never known Theodore to be less than chatty,” Agatha said as she set down the book she’d been skimming and moved to the window. “I think Mrs. Cook must have arrived, which is unfortunate since the conversation was just starting to get interesting.”

“There is nothing of interest to tell you about Theodore,” Arabella said.

“I’m quite certain that isn’t exactly true,” Gloria said, stepping into the room with Cora right behind her. “But Agatha’s right. Mrs. Cook has arrived. I’m certain she’s going to have a fit of the vapors when she sees your hair, so talk of Theodore and how interesting he is will simply have to wait.” She tilted her head. “How are we going to explain what happened to you?”

“We could tell her the hair just fell off my head,” Arabella said.

“Because that happens every day,” Gloria muttered.

“Having a crazed sheriff slice off my hair with a knife isn’t exactly something that happens every day either.”

Gloria plopped down on a bright pink chair with pink tassels hanging from its skirt. “You will start at the beginning, my dear, and do not even consider withholding a single detail.”

Thirty minutes later, Arabella found herself winding up her story as Mrs. Cook clucked and tittered with every snip of her scissors. There had been no point in using Mrs. Cook as an excuse to delay telling her tale, not after the woman had bustled into the room and Gloria blithely announced the reason for Arabella’s missing hair. Mrs. Cook insisted on hearing all the details, and Arabella hadn’t been able to come up with a sufficient reason to refuse.

“So then, Theodore left me alone in the cell, and not long after that he came back with Sheriff Dawson in tow, and I was released.”

“That is so romantic,” Mrs. Cook gushed.

“There was nothing romantic about it,” Arabella argued.

Gloria cleared her throat. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Arabella. There certainly is something romantic about a dashing gentleman such as Theodore racing to a damsel-in-distress’s rescue and saving said damsel—which is you, by the way—from a most unpleasant fate.”

“Do you know, the first time I saw Mr. Wilder, I got a bit weak at the knees,” Cora said.

What did that have to do with anything?

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have extended an invitation to Mrs. and Miss Murdock,” Gloria said slowly. “Felicia is a charming young lady, and I’d certainly hate for Theodore to become distracted from the plot, or, ah . . . well, you know.”

Perhaps she had not been clear regarding her interest, or lack thereof, in Theodore.

She cleared her throat. “Mother, you know I hate to disappoint you, but I’m an independent woman, more independent than most because of Grandmother’s inheritance. I’m not opposed to marriage . . . eventually. However, Theodore Wilder is not meant for me. You must realize his idea of the ideal wife is a demure lady who will not be opposed to catering to his every whim.”

“If you love someone, dear,” Cora said, “you want to do special little things for them.”

“Yes, but it should be a choice,” Arabella argued. “I have the distinct feeling Theodore was brought up in an environment where those ‘special little things’ are expected of women. There’s a difference between wanting to do for a man and having it expected of you.”

“She does have a point,” Agatha said. “And everyone in this room—well, besides you, Mrs. Cook—is aware of the fact that Theodore is beyond old-fashioned.”

“Even I know that Mr. Theodore Wilder is a fine figure of a man,” Mrs. Cook said with a chuckle as she made a final cut and tousled Arabella’s hair. “There, it’s the best I can do.”

Arabella smiled her thanks and pulled off the piece of linen Mrs. Cook had set around her shoulders to catch any falling hair. She rose to her feet. “I suppose I should change my dress.”

“Aren’t you going to look in the mirror?” Eliza asked.

“Arabella’s never been overly concerned with her appearance,” Gloria said.

“If I looked like Miss Beckett, I would find it difficult to pull myself away from my reflection,” Mrs. Cook declared. “If I do say so myself, dear, I did a lovely job layering your locks so your shorter hair blends in. With the amount of curl you possess, and your reputation for being fashionable, I doubt
anyone will even realize your style was not intentional. You look absolutely charming.”

Arabella glanced around and found all the ladies nodding in agreement. Feeling a bit self-conscious but not wanting to hurt Mrs. Cook’s feelings, she moved to her mirror and couldn’t quite stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. She leaned closer. Her hair was a shiny mass of loose curls that tumbled to her shoulders. The area of her head where her hair had been cut off was layered quite adeptly, but . . . Arabella narrowed her eyes. She didn’t look like herself anymore.

“You remind me of an imp,” Agatha said.

“An imp?”

“Yes, you know, those mischievous creatures that frolic in children’s books.”

“I thought an imp was like an urchin,” Eliza said.

“She certainly doesn’t look like an urchin,” Cora exclaimed. “In fact, she looks, hmm . . .”

“Approachable,” Gloria finished for Cora. “Oh, this is so exciting.”

“Why would you find this exciting?” Arabella asked as alarm began sliding through her.

“You’ve always shown such little regard for your appearance, darling, but now you will no longer be able to secure your hair back in that stern chignon you’ve been wearing for years. You look five years younger, and need I say a bit frivolous?”

“I look frivolous?” Arabella asked, spinning back to look in the mirror. She
did
look frivolous. The riot of curls framing her face seemed to accent her eyes, and for some reason it appeared as if her eyes were now larger.

“I look as if I’ve lost my intelligence,” she muttered.

“A girl should never have too much intelligence,” Mrs. Cook proclaimed. “You are going to have the gentlemen of New York falling at your feet.”

“I certainly hope not,” Arabella said, although . . . it would be interesting to see if Theodore would feel compelled to fall at her feet.

She blinked at her reflection even as the thought came to her that perhaps she really had lost a little of her intelligence with each inch of hair Mrs. Cook had cut away.

She turned and forced a smile. “Since I have now been sufficiently groomed to attend Mother’s dinner party, may I suggest we continue our conversation at a later date? I’m sure everyone would love an opportunity to freshen up a bit before the festivities begin.”

She bid Eliza and Agatha goodbye, ignored the smug looks she saw her mother and Cora exchange, thanked Mrs. Cook once again, and finally plopped into a chair once everyone had left her room.

She permitted herself a moment to simply sit, but then a restless urge swept over her. She pushed to her feet and strode to the wardrobe. As she rummaged around the contents of her closet, the thought kept springing to mind that, for some unknown reason, it was imperative she find the perfect outfit to wear to dinner.

 8 

T
heodore stretched his legs and regarded his mother and sister, who were sitting on the opposite side of the carriage. Both of them were fidgeting, a circumstance that was slightly alarming.

He’d always thought of them as practically motionless, except when they were moving of course.

He muffled a snort at that ridiculous reasoning and was suddenly thankful when the carriage began to slow. He needed a diversion from the strange notions that kept plaguing his every thought.

“What was I thinking?” Louise asked as the carriage came to a stop.

“Harold is going to be so disappointed with me,” Katherine said, although her cheeks sported a rosy hue and her dark eyes sparkled.

Theodore could not remember the last time Katherine’s eyes had held anything but aloofness. She almost seemed a bit mischievous at the moment, her attitude most likely brought on by the fact she was doing something her staid and formal husband would not approve of in the least.

It gave Theodore pause.

Was he like Harold and his own father, Samuel? Did he believe a woman should be expected to wait at home while a gentleman was free to cavort around as he pleased?

His collar suddenly felt rather tight. He tugged on it, but stilled when Louise sent him a frown.

“Are you not feeling well, dear?” she asked, and before he could respond, continued, “I have to imagine you’re beginning to experience a trickle of unease regarding our plans for this evening. Have you come to the same conclusion I have, that this is not a good idea?”

He pushed his troubling thoughts away and summoned up a smile. “Of course not, Mother. Having dinner with the Beckett family is a fine way to pass the evening. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. If nothing else, it will certainly be more pleasant for you than spending the evening moping at home.”

“I don’t mope,” Louise said.

“Nor do I,” Katherine added.

Theodore grinned. “You have no reason to mope now, Kate. Zayne will be here tonight, and that’s certain to improve your spirits.”

“If you even so much as hint to him about my old infatuation, I promise I will hunt you down after the dinner party and inflict bodily harm upon you.”

“I’d forgotten what a bloodthirsty wench you can be when you put your mind to it.”

“It is hardly appropriate to call me a ‘wench,’ and you must know, if word gets back to Harold regarding my past, er, infatuation, he’ll be furious with me.”

Theodore’s amusement died a rapid death. “Surely you know I would never intentionally embarrass you. As for Harold, he has little reason to be furious with you about anything. He should have made himself available to escort you to dinner tonight.”

Louise’s brow furrowed as she regarded him warily. “What has gotten into you? You are not behaving in your normal fashion.”

“What is my normal fashion?”

“Well . . . normal,” Louise said before she leaned forward and peered out the window. “Oh, look, there’s another carriage pulling up.”

Theodore glanced out the window. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, and I do believe that’s Miss Murdock climbing down now.”

Louise leaned back and patted her hair. “Well then, this is all right. The Murdock family is completely respectable.” She smiled. “I have always enjoyed Miss Felicia Murdock. She is very proper and would make any gentleman an excellent wife.”

“I’m not planning on getting married in the foreseeable future.”

“You’re rapidly on your way to becoming thirty. Your father and I married when he was only twenty-four.”

“Which goes far in explaining why the two of you barely speak anymore,” Theodore uttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Louise asked.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. “Do not, and I repeat, do not attempt your hand at matchmaking this evening, Mother. We’ve come to celebrate Miss Beckett’s return home, and that’s all we’re going to do.”

“Do you know, I don’t believe Miss Murdock’s ever missed a church service? A lady like that doesn’t come around often. You would be lucky to attract her interest.”

Katherine released a grunt. “Theodore doesn’t have a problem attracting interest from the ladies. Honestly, it’s annoying to have ladies seek out my company when I know perfectly well they’re only doing so in order to get closer to Theodore.”

Theodore shifted in his seat. “I didn’t know ladies bothered you in the hopes of becoming known to me.”

“I’m certain there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Katherine, stop baiting your brother,” Louise said before she glanced at Theodore. “Now then, returning to Miss Murdock. She is a very devout woman and would suit you admirably.”

“I doubt even Miss Murdock would be up for the task of saving Theodore’s soul,” Katherine muttered, softening the words when she sent him a grin.

He returned the grin. “As we discussed not that long ago, sister dear, my soul is perfectly fine.”

“I doubt that, but I suppose you can always hope,” Katherine said. “Perhaps you should seek out Miss Murdock and her devout ways after all.”

Theodore shook his head but was spared a response when his mother pressed her face up against the window and made a
tsk
ing sound under her breath.

“I do wish Mrs. Murdock would not encourage her daughter to gown herself in such unexpected colors. Why, a lady possessed of Miss Murdock’s fair complexion should never wear that particular shade of green. She looks peaked even from this distance.”

“While Miss Murdock’s unfortunate choice of a gown is indeed riveting, may I suggest we get out of the carriage and greet the Murdock family? I think they may be waiting for us,” Theodore said.

Louise let out a sniff. “No need to get testy. I was simply pointing out the obvious.” She smoothed down her gown as Theodore opened the carriage door.

He stepped out and took his mother’s hand, helping her to the ground. “You look lovely.”

Louise began blinking rather rapidly. “That is quite the nicest thing you’ve said to me in years.”

A stab of regret pierced Theodore. He told women on a daily basis how lovely they looked. How could he have neglected to pay the same compliment to his own mother?

“I’ll try to be more diligent in the future,” he said quietly.

“You really are ill, aren’t you?” Katherine asked as she paused in the door of the carriage.

“I’m fine,” Theodore said, helping her down.

Katherine lowered her voice. “Have you been drinking?”

Theodore arched a brow.

Katherine arched a brow right back at him. “Pity . . . that was the only explanation I could come up with to explain your odd behavior.”

“Mr. Wilder,” Mrs. Murdock called, drawing his attention, “we meet again.”

Theodore took his mother’s arm and extended his other one to Katherine before strolling up the cobblestone pathway to stop in front of Mrs. Murdock. He inclined his head to her and Felicia and smiled at Mr. Murdock, who was struggling to carry a large box.

“Allow me to assist you with that, Mr. Murdock,” he said, taking a step forward as his mother and sister dropped their hold on him.

“Thank you,” Mr. Murdock said, then handed the box to Theodore. “It was heavier than I was led to believe. I thought it only held a quilt.”

Louise bit her lip. “I didn’t realize gifts were expected.”

“Oh, don’t concern yourself, Mrs. Wilder,” Mrs. Murdock said. “That isn’t a present for Miss Beckett. It’s for Hamilton and Eliza. We gave them a gift at their wedding, of course, but Felicia and I have been working day and night on a special quilt for the new couple. They married so quickly that we didn’t have time to complete it before the ceremony.”

“You know how to quilt, Miss Murdock?” Louise asked before sending a telling smile in Theodore’s direction.

“I do, Mrs. Wilder, but I can’t claim to be overly proficient at the art,” Felicia said.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Murdock said with a wave of her hand. “Felicia is highly competent with all the feminine pursuits. Why, she even knows how to cook.”

Two bright spots of color appeared on Felicia’s cheeks. Theodore was about to intervene, being all too familiar with the antics of parents— especially mothers who were prone to push their daughters’ attributes in front of every available gentleman—but before he had an opportunity, his sister stepped forward, took Felicia by the arm, and began strolling toward the house.

“I love to cook,” Katherine said. “Isn’t it amusing that you and I have been acquainted with each other for years and yet I didn’t know that about you?”

“It is not as if we speak on a regular basis, Mrs. Gibson,” Felicia said while Theodore dropped into place beside her. “You have moved on to the married set, whereas I’m still lurking on the outskirts of society, trying to avoid the maneuverings of my mother.”

Katherine leaned closer to her and whispered, “I can certainly sympathize with your plight. My mother’s maneuverings used to drive me mad.”

Felicia stopped walking, glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Katherine and Theodore. “Even though my mother makes the claim I’m adept in the kitchen, I’m really not. Our cook has forbidden me to step foot into her domain ever since I set the stove on fire. Funny thing, it turns out that grease really
will
explode if you allow it to get too hot.”

Theodore juggled the box in his arms and smiled. When Felicia wasn’t suffering from embarrassment over her mother’s attention, she was quite lovely and seemed to possess a wonderful sense of humor. He tilted his head and considered
her. With her blond hair, fair complexion, and eyes gleaming with mischief, Miss Murdock was actually incredibly lovely.

Why then did he not feel one single bit of attraction for her?

“Oh no,” Felicia moaned.

Theodore glanced where Felicia was staring and realized another carriage had pulled up. A gentleman was climbing out of it, and in his arms he carried a small dark-haired girl.

“This is marvelous,” Mrs. Murdock exclaimed as she hurried up to join them, Louise and Mr. Murdock following more sedately after her. “I was unaware Lord Sefton would be here.” She waved cheerfully and let out what sounded like a giggle when Grayson Sumner, Lord of Sefton, lifted his head, smiled, and began to stride toward them.

“Mrs. Murdock, how lovely to see you,” Grayson said as he rearranged his small daughter, Ming, against his shoulder, and then grinned at Felicia. “Miss Murdock, you’re looking well this fine evening.”

Theodore couldn’t help but notice that Felicia turned a deeper shade of pink. It was obvious by the way Mrs. Murdock was beaming at Grayson that she wasn’t at all opposed to Felicia attracting notice from this particular gentleman.

“Mr. Wilder,” Grayson said as he sent Theodore a nod, “it’s good to find you back in town. I understand congratulations are in order this evening. You were finally able to locate Miss Beckett and return her to the folds of her appreciative family.”

“Lord Sefton,” Theodore replied as he inclined his head. “I suppose congratulations are in order, considering it turned into a rather large ordeal to locate and return Miss Beckett to New York.”

“She sounds like a delightful minx,” Grayson said with a charming smile, which for some peculiar reason made Theodore long to hit him. “And please, call me Grayson. I’ve recently abandoned my title and truly do prefer being addressed like everyone else.”

“How does one abandon a title?” Katherine asked.

“It’s easy,” Grayson said with another smile, “especially when one no longer resides in England.”

“I do beg your pardon, Grayson,” Theodore said. “I’ve forgotten my manners. This is my mother, Mrs. Samuel Wilder, and this is my sister, Mrs. Harold Gibson.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” Grayson said, gesturing to the little girl now burying her head in his neck. “This is my daughter, Ming.”

Ming lifted her head before she plopped her thumb in her mouth.

“Hello, Ming,” Felicia said.

Ming stretched out her little arms, and Felicia stepped closer, scooping the child into her embrace. She nuzzled Ming with her nose, causing the girl to giggle.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Ming,” Mrs. Murdock said, her eyes brimming with delight.

“She’s been at the church a few times,” Felicia said.