Duke of a Gilded Age (11 page)

Wesley wished the warmth of Belle’s hand would not fade from his fingertips quite so quickly.
I shouldn’t have done that. She’s engaged, after all. And yet…had she felt nothing, wouldn’t she have pulled away more quickly?
Perhaps Belle was too polite—or too concerned for her father’s continued employment—to rebuke him openly.
I’ve put her in an awkward position, haven’t I? I should be more guarded and considerate in my behavior toward her.

“I’m sorry Belle, if I took advantage of your kindness just now. It won’t happen again.”

A long silence followed his words.

“Thank you, Wesley,” she said finally.

Her response was so soft that had he been less attentive he might have missed it in the din of the general conversation surrounding them. Wesley couldn’t bring himself to look at Belle’s face, for fear he would see relief in her hazel eyes.

Chapter Seven

The SS City of New York

A T
RIO
O
F
S
EAGULLS
circled overhead as the ferry pulled alongside the dock at Bedloe Island. The awkward tension between Belle and Wesley seemingly dissipated as they joined the short queue to disembark. After they set foot on the dock, they practically raced toward Lady Liberty with coltish glee. Mr. Oakhurst and Lady Frederic followed at a more leisurely pace, reuniting with their children in the observation balcony at the top of the pedestal.

“It’s a splendid view, but I’m rather keen to climb all the way to the top,” Belle said. “Would anyone care to join me?”

“Belle, that’s quite a climb,” Mr. Oakhurst said, wide-eyed. “It was one hundred ninety-two steps to this observation deck. I’m told there are one hundred sixty-two additional steps to the crown!”

“Then we’ve already done the hard part,” she replied.

“If only I were filled with your youthful energy! I’m content to wait for you right here,” Lady Frederic said.

“I’ll go, Miss Oakhurst,” Wesley said.

Belle giggled conspiratorially. “Somehow I knew you would, Your Grace.”

They joined the end of a small group waiting to go up. As the group of four children and two men filtered into the stairwell, Wesley made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“After you, Belle.”

“Oh, no. Unless he’s escorting her on his arm, a gentleman always precedes a lady on the stairs when ascending, and follows her when descending.”

“More rules for gentlemen I’ve never heard of? This process of civilizing me requires constant vigilance.”

“The forging of a magnificent sword always requires heat and a hammer, but I’m certain the results will be worth it. After you, Wesley.”

A sensation of light and warmth filled Wesley’s chest as he mounted the narrow metal steps.
Belle just compared me to a magnificent sword, didn’t she?
He loped upward at a good clip until reality began to stake a claim on his muscles…and his thoughts.
Best not to read too much into anything. Nevertheless, it must mean Belle has put what happened on the ferry in the past. What a resilient and sweet temperament she has!
He continued to climb more deliberately, pausing every so often to listen for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. Excited chatter from children echoed within the statue, from higher up on the staircase. About halfway, he stopped climbing and peeked over the side of the spiral.

“Hullo down there!” he called out.

His voice reverberated against the copper sheeting that formed Lady Liberty’s robes. Two spirals below, Belle leaned over the railing and turned her face toward him. With a merry smile, she waved.

“How do you climb so fast?” she replied.

“Why are you so slow?”

“It’s these wretched skirts. But fear not, I’m right behind you!”

Her head disappeared and Wesley resumed his upward trek. When he reached the small observation deck a few minutes later, perspiration was rolling down his forehead. The closeness of the quarters forced him to remove his top hat and even then he had to take care not to hit his head. He longed to shrug off his jacket but dared not, lest the dampness from his exertions be revealed. Fortunately, a crisp handkerchief was tucked in his pocket, which he used to mop his brow. When Belle joined him, he hoped he was more presentable.

“Oh, my!” she said. “That’s indeed a prodigious climb…and it’s awfully hot in here, isn’t it?” She withdrew a lacy swatch of fabric from her reticule and patted the moisture from her face. “I must look a fright.”

“I resemble a cat in a rainstorm. You, however, are merely glowing.”

“That’s a very gallant thing to say, Wesley.”

A semi-circle of twenty-five windows beckoned them near. As they found an unoccupied spot, Wesley gasped with pleasure. “What a gorgeous view!”

Belle recoiled. “I had no idea how high up it would be!”

“Come on, Belle. It’s perfectly safe.”

Her feet edged forward, more slowly.

“You can see forever from up here,” she said, her voice infused with wonder.

As the children became bored and began to filter back down the stairs with their fathers, Belle and Wesley were left alone. They moved from window to window, drinking in the view of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Governor’s Island. Sailboats and steamships painted a charming picture as they glided merrily through the sparkling harbor below.

“We must remember to wave at Lady Liberty as we go past tomorrow,” Belle said. “Are you excited to make the voyage?”

“Yes, although the prospect seems a bit unreal. Less than a week ago, I was a poor kid from Brooklyn, wondering how I could possibly afford a tin of biscuits. Now, I’m traveling first class to England, with a valet no less. My mother, however, is taking all this in stride.”

“I believe my mother and yours have much in common. They both gave up a great deal when they married, and did so happily.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother married Lord Frederic Parker, knowing his inheritance was likely to be nothing. In my mother’s case, her father was a gentleman of extensive property. When she married, my grandfather cut her off entirely. As a result, I’ve never met anyone from that side of the family.”

Wesley was taken aback. “How horrible!”

“Many people, gentry and royalty alike, often pay a steep price for going against their family’s wishes. It’s more common than you may think, actually.”

“I can’t imagine why they didn’t welcome Mr. Oakhurst with open arms. He’s reliable, steady, and everything amiable.”

“Thank you, Wesley. Had my father been titled or exceedingly rich, my grandparents would have adored him. Don’t feel too sorry for my mother. She loved my father unconditionally and was quite happy.” Belle smiled. “Shall we go back down?”

“I take it you’ve no interest in climbing the ladder into the torch?”

Belle laughed. “Until women may wear trousers, I’m afraid not!”

“That’s not terribly likely, is it?”

“I can’t imagine such a scandalous fashion ever catching hold, but if it does I’ll be the first to buy a pair.”

Morning had long since dawned, but Wesley lay in bed on his stomach. The previous day’s exertions had transformed his legs into leaden weights so exquisitely painful he was unable to turn himself over without groaning. The door to his bedchamber opened, and someone entered the room. Moments later, the drapes were pulled back.

“I’ve ordered breakfast sent to your suite, Your Grace,” Cavendish said. “Rise and shine.”

“I can’t,” came Wesley’s muffled voice.

“Why not?”

“I climbed the Statue of Liberty yesterday and I can’t move.”

“Ah. Well, I didn’t come away from my travels without resources.”

Cavendish removed his jacket, hung it in the closet, and rolled up his sleeves. Wesley suddenly found the covers whisked from the bed.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed.

“I’m going to give you massage using ancient techniques I learned in China.”

“A
what?”

“Just relax, Your Grace.”

Ten minutes later, Wesley rolled out of bed in shock. “I can move my legs again! Cavendish, you’re a marvel!”

“No, I’m a valet. There’s a large difference.” With a twitch of his waxed mustache, Cavendish rolled his sleeves down and retrieved his jacket. “I believe I hear the breakfast cart arriving. If you’ll don your dressing gown, I’ll set up the meal in the sitting room.”

Wesley gaped as Cavendish left.
Now I’m
certain
I need a valet!

Lady Frederic was already eating breakfast when Wesley slid into his chair. She wore a dressing gown of flowing floral silk, and her hair was hanging loose about her shoulders.

“Good morning, Wesley. I hope you don’t mind me starting without you, but I like my eggs hot.”

“I’m glad you did, Mother.”

The extensive number of dishes on the white, linen-draped table included broiled ham, smoked bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, muffins, and oatmeal. There were also pots of coffee, chocolate, and piping hot water for either English, green, or Oolong tea.

“With so much for us to do this morning, Cavendish was very thoughtful to order up breakfast. He’s quite a find,” Lady Frederic said.

“Yes, he is. He’s laying out my suit as we speak.”

“Mrs. Neal is preparing my traveling gown and drawing my bath. I feel so spoiled, but I’m beginning to wonder what I ever did without her.”

“I know what you mean.”

As he reached for a freshly baked fruit muffin, Wesley noticed yet another one of Cavendish’s walking sticks propped up in the corner. This one was slender, fashioned of a highly polished dark wood, and sported a deep blue cut-glass knob handle.
I wonder how many walking sticks the man has?

Since there was much to be done, Cavendish didn’t allow his master to linger overlong at breakfast. After Wesley bathed, the valet gave him a shave and manicure. Wesley examined his buffed fingernails, impressed.

“I’m not uncouth anymore,” he said.

“I daresay you never were, Your Grace.”

“Tell me, Cavendish, how many walking sticks do you own?”