An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,35
had not forgotten.
“It was a trifling sum to prove my point that he was just a fortune hunter and, as such, beneath your matrimonial considerations. I’ve spent more on forks for dinner parties,” Mrs. Goodwin said. “By accepting the money he proved that he was unsuitable.”
Beatrice didn’t miss the flash of anger in his eyes.
“One might argue it has made me into a suitable candidate. I have wealth, a fine home, a lucrative and reliable income, prestige. Was it just the fortune I was lacking, Mrs. Goodwin, or did you take issue with something else?”
Beatrice waited for her mother to explain something else but Estella swept out of the room, as if she could not endure such discomfort in the morning. It didn’t escape her notice that her mother still did not approve of him, which was just as well; Beatrice had no notion of anything more than this with Dalton. Business, only.
But the way he looked at her didn’t make her think of just business.
The private parlor
The minute the door closed on Dalton, Beatrice rushed off to find her mother in the parlor where she was sipping tea and sorting through a stack of invitations and correspondence.
“What was that all about?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Beatrice.”
“It was a business matter. Though it felt personal. I’m not sure what to make of it.” She peeked out the window. “He’s gone now, and he’s taken his check with him.”
“Edward was too blind with drink to see it, but I wasn’t. Your father was too distracted with other work matters to see it, but I wasn’t. And you . . . you had stars in your eyes that blinded you all the same. Dalton only ever wanted one thing and one thing only—our store. I hate to see how he used you to get it.”
“I won’t let him.”
“But that is all you’ll be able to do. Fight and resist him at every turn. It will take all of your time and focus. You’ll have little time for anything else. Until Edward returns.”
“How is my darling brother? Any word?”
“Remarkably he is not inclined to write us long letters detailing how he spends his days,” her mother said drily.
“It’s not like he has much else to do,” Beatrice muttered in the manner of a petulant fourteen-year-old girl and not a grown woman of six and thirty.
“He must focus on getting well, Beatrice,” her mother said gently, with motherly concern.
“I do wish him the best.”
Edward had not gone enthusiastically or even entirely willingly to Dr. Barnacle’s Restorative Home. But he’d been too ill with drink to put up much of a resistance, which in Beatrice’s opinion meant he definitely ought to stay for an extended visit under the doctor’s care and guidance.
She did not wish him ill; she wasn’t a monster. But as she dug into the details of the business, pored over the account books, learned the origins and reasons for foolish decisions, the more she realized what an idiot he was. Their father’s lifework was being run into the ground, in a series of poor choices and missed opportunities and a stubborn refusal to change. His laziness and arrogance were his downfall. And thus, the store’s.
If she hadn’t arrived in time, he would have sold a former empire for a song and that’s all it would have been worth. Three generations of labor and love, gone.
If she hadn’t gathered her nerve to seek her divorce . . .
If she hadn’t gathered the nerve to seize control . . .
“Beatrice, I didn’t do this just to help you get him out of the way so you could play store and tangle with Dalton. I did it because he also needed help.”
“What happens when he comes back, Mother?”
“We’ll see.”
“We’ll see” was mother-speak for you’re not going to like what I have to say.
Beatrice understood this to mean that her mother would take sides and Beatrice might not like it.
“You don’t mean to give it back to him when he returns?”
Her mother just said, “Hmm.” Which was mother-speak for don’t make me say it, please.
“But he’ll just turn around and sell it to Dalton! Edward just wants the money.”
“He can’t sell it to Dalton if Dalton cannot afford to buy it. And if you are there to provide assistance to your brother . . .”
“You’ll let me fix everything and then hand it back to Edward to ruin?” There was no hiding the outrage in her voice.