Catch a Falling Heiress: An American Heiress in London (3 page)

It was clear many men shared that opinion, for a quick glance around told Jack her arrival had not gone unnoticed by the other men in the ballroom. More important, Van Hausen was among her admirers, for he still had her hands firmly clasped in his.

Jack turned to his companions. “Who the devil is she?”

Both his friends shook their heads, but it was James who spoke. “You’re the one who’s been living here. Don’t you know?”

He shot his friend an impatient glance. “Really, Pongo, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

“No need to be so testy.” James returned his attention to the doorway. “Did you notice her eyes?”

“I think any man would notice her eyes,” Denys put in with fervent appreciation, his gaze also straying back to the subject of the conversation.

“Will the two of you stop gaping at her long enough to consider the vital point?” Jack muttered, his concern growing. “We do not know this woman, but it’s clear Van Hausen does.”

He took another glance over her, and this time, he saw more than her stunning face and luscious shape. He saw affection in the way she smiled at Van Hausen, and the halfheartedness of her attempts to pull her hands away. He saw an expensive ball gown as well as strands of magnificent pink diamonds that looped her slender neck and glinted amid the delicate sprays of heliotrope in her hair. Whoever she was, it was clear she had money, and that was something Van Hausen desperately needed right now.

Desperate men, he reminded himself, do desperate things.

Realization came in a flash, and he knew not only that Van Hausen intended to evade the trap they’d set but also just how he intended to do it. Jack swore, a curse loud enough for his friends to hear.

“Jack?” Denys gave him a searching glance. “Have you recognized her? Do you know who she is?”

“No,” he answered, still watching the girl. “But I damn well intend to find out.”

Chapter 2

Having been away from home a full year, Linnet Holland expected to find that many things had changed during her absence. She did not, however, expect Frederick Van Hausen to be one of the transformations.

In appearance, he seemed the same Frederick she’d always known—blond hair, brown eyes, boyishly handsome face—but his manner was so different from that of the man she remembered that she almost felt as if she were talking to a different person.

“Linnet. Dearest, dearest Linnet,” he said for perhaps the fourth time. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”

“And you.” As agreeable as it was to be so warmly greeted, it also felt a bit awkward, for she was unaccustomed to such effusiveness from Frederick. They had attended some of the same picnics, parties, and balls over the years, but he was a decade older than she, and though she’d been wildly infatuated with him as a young girl, he’d never fueled her adolescent hopes. Indulgent fondness was as close as he’d ever come, and Linnet had long ago given up any romantic notions about him. Never would she have predicted that upon her return from Europe, he would gaze hungrily into her eyes and hold her hands in his.

“Mrs. Dewey assured me you would attend her ball tonight,” he was saying, as she tried to adjust to this new, less restrained Frederick. “But since you’ve just arrived home, I wasn’t sure you would come.” His gloved fingers tightened around hers. “I’m so glad you did.”

“Our ship from Liverpool docked yesterday, and we journeyed up from New York on the morning train. We haven’t had a moment to catch our breath.” She glanced around, noting there were other friends waiting to greet her, and she tried without success to pull her hands from his. “Frederick, you must let go of my hands,” she said, laughing. “People are staring.”

“Let them. I don’t mind.”

Her astonishment must have shown on her face, for he laughed and capitulated. “Oh, have it your way, Linnet, but I’m so glad to see you, and I don’t care who knows it.”

She frowned, still bewildered. “Frederick, have you been drinking?”

That elicited another laugh from him. “No, though the sight of you does make me feel a bit tipsy. But—” He stopped and cocked his head. “Listen to that.”

“Listen to what? You mean the music?”

“Of course the music, silly girl. It’s a waltz.” He once again seized her hand. “Dance with me.”

He started to pull her toward the dance floor, but stopped almost at once. “Oh, but you’ve probably promised this waltz to someone. One of the men clamoring behind me, I’m sure,” he added with a glance over his shoulder. “As beautiful a woman as you’ve become, your dance card is bound to be filled well in advance.”

“On the contrary.” She lifted her hand to show him the blank card tied to her wrist. “Not a single name. I know it’s a shock,” she added with a deprecating laugh, “but pride impels me to remind you that we did just arrive. My dozens of suitors,” she added lightly, “haven’t had the chance to line up.”

He didn’t laugh with her. Instead, his eyes were warm and earnest as they stared into hers. “That means I’m the first in line for once.” He gestured to the dance floor. “Shall we?”

He led her out, and soon they were swirling across the floor to the lilting melody. “How was Europe?” he asked.

“Wonderful, at the start. The Italian lakes were beautiful in the summertime. Winter was nice, too, since we were in Egypt for much of that. The pyramids are an amazing sight, to be sure. But a year is such a long time to be away, and by the time we did the London season, I was too homesick to appreciate it.”

“Were you homesick, truly?”

“Oh, yes. I missed the picnics in Central Park, and the clambakes here at Newport, and all our friends. And sleeping in my own bed and having a real bathroom with hot water. And I missed our muffins.”

“Muffins?” He laughed. “Linnet, you amaze me.”

She laughed, too. “They have these things in En-gland they call muffins, but they’re not like ours. I so missed our muffins with the blueberries inside. When I described them to the maître d’hôtel at the Savoy in London, he suggested I have the tea cakes as a substitute. They weren’t at all the same.”

“I think some of your other friends were over for the London season. Did you see any of them?”

“I did.” She made a face. “Too many of them, if you want the truth.”

Frederick gave her a quizzical look. “You just said you’d been missing your friends. Weren’t you happy to see some of them in London if you were homesick?”

“Of course. But they all behaved so differently there than they do here. They fawned all over the British gentlemen, acting as if those men are so superior to our gentlemen here, which just isn’t true.”

His hand squeezed hers. “My patriotic Yankee girl.”

“I am. Laugh at me if you want to.”

“I’m not laughing. I agree with you. How could I not?” he added, still smiling. “I am an American gentleman myself, and I can’t see that these British fellows are in any way superior to me. Take those three, for example. The ones with Mrs. Dewey.”

He nodded toward a place near the doorway, and as they waltzed by, she spied the trio of men talking with their hostess. It was only the briefest glimpse, but she was sure she’d never seen them before. “British, are they?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.” His long upper lip curled a bit with obvious contempt. “And titled, as if that means anything here.”

Linnet’s mind went back to her second season out, and Lord Conrath, the first man with a title she’d ever met, the only man in her life who’d ever made her heart race and her breath catch. Conrath—so debonair, so charming, so very broke.

She stumbled a little, and it took a moment to regain her footing. “Are these men staying in Newport?” she asked once they had resumed the dance.

“Unfortunately. They are spending the season here at The Tides. Why the Deweys invited them is beyond my comprehension.”

She groaned. “You mustn’t tell my mother about them. She got it into her head ages ago that I must marry a British lord. No one else will do.”

It was Frederick’s turn to miss a step. “Sorry about that,” he said as he maneuvered them back into the rhythm of the waltz. “Your happiness ought to come first. Why is she so adamant?”

“She feels the New Money girls are getting the jump on our set by marrying titled men, and she’s decided beating them at their own game is the way to stop it. She’s obsessed with the idea of making me a countess or duchess or some such.”

“You mustn’t let her.” The fierceness of his voice surprised her, but she also found it quite gratifying.

“And reward her for having such snobbish social ambitions?” she replied with a wink. “Never.”

“Good.” His eyes looked into hers. “I don’t want to see one of them hurt you, Linnet. Not again.”

Linnet felt a rush of affection, a feeling almost as strong as the crush she’d had on him when she was fourteen. “I’m not pining for Conrath. He was just after my money, and he left me feeling quite jaded about the idea of a transatlantic marriage. And if he hadn’t made me so, London would have.”

“Was your season there very bad?” he asked with an air of sympathy she warmed to at once.

“You’ve no idea. Impoverished peers were thick on the ground, all expressing admiration and affection, but the entire time, I couldn’t help wondering how much affection they’d have for me without my dowry.”

“These British lords expect everything to be handed to them on a silver platter, including an income.”

He sounded quite bitter all of a sudden, and she couldn’t help wondering what lay behind it. “I don’t remember you feeling so strongly about the British men who come here trolling for heiresses.”

“Yes, well . . .” He broke off and looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “You’re far too sweet to fall prey to a man who just wants your money. Which is why,” he said, looking at her again and bending his head closer to hers, “you can’t go back to England and marry a title like all your friends are doing.”

“I don’t intend to, and now that we’re home, I hope Mother will give up the whole idea at last. I don’t want to live in another country. I want to live here. And besides, I could never respect a man who didn’t earn his way.”

“Yes.” He paused, and a hint of worry crossed his face. “I’ve had to earn mine, that’s for sure.”

“And done a fine job of it, too,” she assured him. “Your father thinks very highly of your abilities.”

“Does he?” The question was wistful. “God knows, he’s not an easy man to please.”

“He adores you. It’s obvious.”

“Is it?” He must have noticed her concern, for he added, “I know he’s hard on me because I’m the only son, and I’ve got to make good. Unlike the Brits, I don’t think work is something to be ashamed of or that it’s honorable to marry for money.”

Linnet made a face. “Well, our American girls don’t seem to mind handing the money over. You should have seen the ones in London, flinging themselves at every British peer in sight, practically begging those men to marry them and take their dowries. And the pushy mothers . . .” She paused for a sigh. “Mine was one of the worst, I’m afraid. She kept dropping hints about my enormous dowry and how healthy I am. It was mortifying.”

“Well, don’t let her get you anywhere near those three,” he advised, glancing at the trio by the doors. “One of them will try to steal you away from me before the evening is over, but I don’t intend to let that happen.”

She was too surprised to think of a reply, for it just wasn’t like Frederick to be so forward. Quite the opposite, in fact. When he was younger, his reputation had been tainted by an unfortunate incident with a New Money girl who, it was said, had tried to trap him into marriage. Since then, he’d become all the more assiduously proper in his conduct toward the females in his company, including her.

“Why, Frederick,” she said, laughing a little, “I didn’t know you’d ever even noticed me.”

“I noticed,” he said. “How could I not? You’re the loveliest girl in our set. But you’re so young, my dear.”

“Young?” she echoed, choosing to focus on that rather than the compliment. Flattery always made her uncomfortable, for she didn’t quite trust it. “I’m twenty-one now, I’ll have you know. According to my mother, I’m on the brink of spinsterhood.”

“Yes, little Linnet’s all grown-up,” he teased. “Not the schoolgirl who used to moon over me. You did,” he added before she could protest. “But you’ve got your revenge, for I’m the one who’s mooning over you nowadays.”

Her astonishment must have shown on her face, for he went on, “I know my feelings seem sudden to you, but that’s because you’ve been away. What I feel has been deepening every day of your absence. The past year has opened my eyes, Linnet, and my heart.”

She had long ago accepted Frederick as a family friend and nothing more, and to know that she had come to mean more to him was such a welcome surprise after the artificial courtship she’d been subjected to in London that she couldn’t think what to say.

He smiled. “The picnics and clambakes weren’t the same without you, and I missed you so. I vowed that when you came back, I would tell you how I felt at once, before I could lose my nerve. I love you. I didn’t realize how much until you went away.” His hand tightened around hers, and his fingers pressed the small of her back, bringing her closer. “Now, hearing how set your mother is on marrying you to one of those British fellows, I know I must speak boldly.”

“Frederick,” she admonished with a glance around, “you mustn’t be so forward.”

“I couldn’t endure it if you went away again. I want you with me, now and always. Of course you want a marriage based on love, and you couldn’t love me, not yet, not as I’ve come to love you. Still, I—” He broke off with an aggravated sigh. “Damn, the waltz is ending, and there’s so much more I want to say, but that would require privacy, and we’ve no chance to be alone tonight. Unless—”

He paused again and glanced around. “Meet me,” he said, with a sudden, fervent urgency. “Half an hour from now, in the Chinese pagoda. You know where it is?”

“The pagoda? Of course, but Frederick, I can’t—”

“I swear to you, Linnet, my intentions are honorable, in case you doubt it. I want to ask you a question, one I’ve been practicing in preparation for your return, one your mother would not approve, given her plans.” He looked into her eyes, his own gaze unwavering. “I think you can guess what that question is.”

His hand slid away from her waist, and a stunned Linnet came to her senses, realizing the waltz had come to an end. She allowed him to lead her back to her place, where he kissed her hand, silently mouthed the words, “Half an hour,” and turned to greet her parents with a naturalness no man ought to display after asking for a clandestine meeting.

She couldn’t go, of course. Even as that thought passed through her mind, Linnet glanced at the watch ring on her right hand and noted the time. It was almost half past eleven.

Rendezvous at midnight. It sounded so romantic, she thought as she turned to other friends who were waiting to greet her, like something out of a novel. But she couldn’t meet a man, even one she’d known all her life, alone at night, for it could put her reputation in jeopardy. And yet, his purpose was honorable, his feelings clear, his question obvious. She wavered. If she did go, what would her answer to his question be?