Katie Rose
Authors: Courting Trouble
Courting Trouble
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A Loveswept eBook Edition
Copyright © 2000 by Katie Rose
Excerpt from
Tempting a Devil
by Samantha Kane copyright © 2013 by Nancy Kattenfeld.
Excerpt from
The Story Guy
by Mary Ann Rivers copyright © 2013 by Mary Ann Hudson.
Excerpt from
Friday Night Alibi
by Cassie Mae copyright © 2013 by Cassie Mae.
All Rights Reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
L
OVESWEPT
is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.
Courting Trouble
was originally published in paperback by Bantam Fanfare, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc. in 2000.
Cover Design: Lynn Andreozzi
Cover Illustration: Franco Accornero
eISBN: 978-0-307-79881-7
v3.1
“A gentleman should never lower the intellectual standard of his conversation in addressing ladies. Pay them the compliment of seeming to consider them capable of an equal understanding with gentleman. You will, no doubt, be somewhat surprised to find in how many cases the supposition will be grounded in fact, and in the few instances where it is not, the ladies will be pleased rather than offended at the delicate compliment you pay them. When you ‘come down’ to commonplace or small talk with an intelligent lady, one of two things is the consequence: she either recognizes the condescension and despises you, or else she accepts it as the highest intellectual effort of which you are capable and rates you accordingly.”
—OUR DEPORTMENT (1882)
ROLOGUE
New York, 1874
M
iss Appleton, while I agree that your application is perfect, your essay well written, and your desire noble, I’m afraid we cannot accept you at this time. Unfortunately, our enrollment is complete, and we have already exceeded our allotment of
females
. I wish you every success in your endeavors.”
Mr. Grimsby, the dean of the college, settled back into his chair with a smirk. Although the woman before him was comely, with burnished gold hair, hazel eyes, and elegant features, he could not allow himself to be influenced by her looks. He had to stop this nonsense and put these new women in their place. What earthly benefit was it to be male if women had all the same advantages? Patting the belly that peeked through his vest, he did not see the sparkle of determination that came into the young woman’s eyes.
“Mr. Grimsby.” Winifred Appleton placed her hand over his to still the impatient tapping of his pencil. “I know your college is exemplary. The academics are renowned, and the law school unmatched. It is for that reason I wish to attend. I think my credentials speak for themselves. There is no doubt that
I can do the work. I have already researched quite a few cases, documented here before you. I have excellent references. And unlike many of your male students, I can pay full tuition immediately. Given that, I fail to understand your hesitation. I am only one more person.”
The dean of the prestigious school turned an interesting shade of purple. He stared at the elegant hand covering his and noted the simple but expensive emerald ring she wore, then raised his eyes to the woman sitting before him. His stern gaze softened to a grandfatherly expression.
“Miss Appleton, your ambition is noble. I know that times are changing, and the suffragettes are determined that women should go to college, vote, even wear pants, for God’s sake! It is all unseemly, to say the least. But surely you do not think to ever pass the bar or practice law? The entire notion is ridiculous! Now, be a good girl and go home, find yourself a nice husband, and have children. You will soon be so busy, you will forget this nonsense.”
He smiled indulgently, convinced he had given her good advice, so he was astonished to feel her surprisingly strong hand tighten on his.
“Sir, I understand these ideas are new,” Winifred gritted, “but women need other women to be their voice in the courtroom. Do you realize that today in some states, women cannot hold property, have no rights, and are legally considered little more than chattel? Good heavens, those of us who are born female are looked on as children, indulged, and smiled at, but we are never treated as equals. Our options are limited, our choices in life are but one. As a result, women are often wed to men well beneath them, men who indulge in alcohol, abuse them, stray, then leave them saddled
with children and debts. When I practiced spiritualism, I heard their stories quite often. Do you not see that this must change? Until women have a voice and legal protection, these injustices will continue!”
Passion lit her elegant face, making her beauty even more remarkable. There was fire in her voice, directness in her speech, and courage in her conviction. Mr. Grimsby was momentarily fascinated. Shaking off her spell, he sank back into his seat, clearly angered by her words.
“Miss Appleton, had you been born a man, I have no doubt you would have been an excellent attorney. But this is preposterous! No court will allow you to practice, nor will you have clients. No man will take you seriously, no jury listen to your arguments. The whole idea is ludicrous.”
“But not impossible,” Winifred said, warming to her cause. “Myra Bradwell passed the bar exam. So did Lavinia Goodell and Belva Lockwood. You see, Mr. Grimsby, it is not so silly. Women can and are doing it.”
“But they will not do it here.” The dean rose, his grandfatherly expression gone. Male supremacy and order were being threatened, and he didn’t like it one bit. “As long as I am in residence, it will never happen here. I find your argument faulty and unmannerly, Miss Appleton. Most of the women you cited did not pass the bar on their own. They apprenticed under their husbands or other male sponsors and got their license only with a man’s help. So you see, women are not capable of the same intellectual demands as men. I am afraid this interview is at an end. Good day to you.”
Winifred opened her mouth to protest, but as if on cue, a clerk stepped in and held the door open,
indicating for her to leave. Having no choice, Winifred picked up her papers, her painstakingly written essay, her thought-provoking research, and her perfect application and put them into her valise. With as much dignity as she could muster, she brushed past the clerk into the hallowed halls of the all-male sanctum.
Curious students stared at her, but Winifred ignored them and walked swiftly toward her carriage. Her driver, waiting in the shade, hopped up to the door and held it open, taking the case from her as he had done many times before. Seeing the expression on his mistress’s face, he sighed in sympathy.
“Shot down again, miss?”
“Yes, Egbert, they rejected me.” Winifred climbed into the carriage with a firm smile. Once the sting of tears might have burned her eyes, but not today. Today she would not cry.
It was so unfair. Settling back into her seat, she recalled the dozens of interviews just like this one that had taken place over the past few months. She had started with the major schools—Harvard, Yale, Princeton—then gradually worked her way down to this smaller, eastern college. While she hadn’t thought achieving her goal would come without effort, she hadn’t anticipated this kind of resistance.
Yet nothing would deter her. From the time she was little, Winifred had always wanted to be a lawyer. While other girls had discussed dresses and hair ribbons, she had pored over every legal text she could find. It was painfully clear to Winifred that without female legal representation, women would never achieve real equality. Her mother laughed and called her a bluestocking, and her father smiled indulgently, certain she would outgrow her odd obsession. But her ambition only increased with time.
When her parents died in a carriage accident, leaving Winifred and her two sisters orphaned, she thought her dream was over. Thankfully, their Aunt Eve gave them a home, and in an effort to stave off poverty, her sister Jennifer came up with the idea of becoming spiritualists. So Jennifer, Winifred, and Penelope became fortune-tellers, amassing more than enough money for Penelope’s debut and Winifred’s college fund. Jennifer herself met a man, Gabriel Forester, and was happily married.
So now Winifred had the money, but no school would take her seriously. Her nose wrinkled as she thought of Mr. Grimsby. While most of the other colleges had been less openly negative, they all saw her ambition as an enormous waste of time and money. Winifred knew she could get through law school. What if the Mr. Grimsbys of the world never gave her a chance?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. By the time the carriage finally pulled up in front of her house, she was in a fine froth indeed.
“Winnie, is that you?” Aunt Eve called out. The windows rattled in their panes as she heard the door slam below. Rushing downstairs, Aunt Eve stood on the threshold, not at all surprised to see her niece toss aside one glove before wrenching the other from her hand. Removing her cloak, she hurled it at the unsuspecting rack, seeming not at all concerned when it slumped to the floor. Pacing the carpet, she muttered to herself while the parrot squawked in a curious echo.
“How could he speak to me like that? Of all the nerve … ‘exceeded our allotment of females’….”
“Winifred,” the elderly lady ventured cautiously, “I take it things didn’t go well at the school?”
Her niece stopped pacing and glared. “Not only did the dean reject me, but he declared my ambition to practice law ‘foolish and a waste of time.’ ”
“He didn’t actually say that, did he?” Eve asked, appalled.
“It was worse than that,” Winifred admitted. “He advised me to wed and forget all this nonsense. Men! They think the only thing we are good for is marriage and children. As if we are nothing more than brood mares!”
“Not all men feel that way about women,” Aunt Eve said. “There are enlightened gentlemen in the world.”
“Ha!” Winifred replied. “
I
will never get married. It is a trap designed to hobble our sex, to hold us down and suppress us. Did you know that only idiots, married women, and children are unable to make a will in many states? The good Mr. Grimsbys in the world are determined to keep women in their place. Well, they cannot stop a high tide from flooding! Change will come, whether they like it or not!”
Aunt Eve gazed worriedly at her niece. Of the three girls, Winifred had always been the odd one, her nose buried in a law book, her mind extraordinary for a young girl. Not even the death of her parents had ruffled her cool composure or swayed her determination. Now at twenty, Winifred had blossomed into a stunning young woman. Although she was certainly capable of taking on the world, how many more disappointments would she have to suffer?
A knock on the door startled them both. Eve peeped out the lace curtains.
“It’s that nice Mr. Howe!” she exclaimed, relieved. “He must have come for tea.”
Winifred groaned. “Charles is here?”
“Now dear, Charles cannot help the fact that he is a man,” Eve responded. “He seems very taken with you, though. This is his third visit this month, I think. Now do sit down and have some tea while I get the door. You have wrapped the carpet around your feet with your pacing.”
Looking down at the floor, Winifred saw that her aunt was right. Shaking the brightly colored Persian rug from her boots, she lowered herself into a seat before their guest strode into the room.
“Mrs. Appleton! How wonderful to see you! Miss Winifred.”
Charles bowed to Aunt Eve, then inclined his head toward her. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal-gray suit and paisley vest that showed off his broad shoulders and trim waist. Carrying his top hat in his hand, his jet-black curls framed a face that could only be called devastatingly handsome. Yet for all their warmth, the sparkle in his black eyes couldn’t hide the fierce gleam of intelligence that had made him one of the city’s most promising prosecutors.
Frustrated beyond words, Winifred set down her teacup and stared into the fire as if it interested her. The last thing she needed right now was to entertain Charles Howe. He was far too perceptive, too dangerously distracting. He would learn in an instant that something was wrong, and he was the last person she wanted to know about her latest humiliation. Winifred ignored him as her aunt bustled to make him comfortable.
“Do take a chair, Mr. Howe, and I will fetch the tea right away. Your timing is perfect! Winifred just came home.” Eve hurried toward the kitchen, casting a sharp glance toward her niece.
A log snapped in the fire, then fell into the
sizzling ashes. Winifred looked as if the embers held tremendous importance for her.
Finally, Charles broke the silence. “I take it things did not go well today?” His voice was properly sympathetic, yet for some reason it only served to outrage her.
Winifred responded more brittlely than she intended. “No, they didn’t. I was rejected again.”
Charles studied the beautiful woman before him. Although she tried to appear righteously indignant, he could see the disappointment in her hazel eyes. Her gaze into the fire was so fiercely determined that he almost smiled. He could just imagine the interview with the proper dean. The man was lucky to have escaped alive.
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“There is no need.” She waved her hand dismissingly. Finally, she looked his way. “The dean made it quite clear that he thought my ambition ridiculous. I know it won’t come as any surprise to you, Charles. You did warn me. Go ahead and say ‘I told you so.’ I wouldn’t blame you in the least.”
“Winifred, you cannot honestly think I’d be happy about this?” he said sharply. “I, of all people, know exactly how it feels to want to be a lawyer.”
