An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,4

in rising up from the wreckage of one’s past mistakes. Of not giving up on oneself. She had divorced a duke, was exiled from English society, and crossed an ocean for her second chance. The least her brother could do was to try not to ruin a once-successful business.

“It’s that damned Dalton’s store is what it is,” Edward said. “He had to go and build a bigger, newer store right across the street from ours. Things would be fine if it weren’t for that.”

DALTON.

She had known a Dalton once upon a time. She had even loved him, though she had lacked the courage of her convictions. To be fair, it was hard for a young girl to follow her heart when faced with the enormous pressure exerted by her mother, society, and the way of the world. But all that felt like another lifetime entirely. He’d probably gone out West to seek his fortune. He’d probably vanished from earth entirely. He certainly had no place in her head or heart anymore.

Not after what he’d done.

That was a fire that was nothing but ashes now.

Beatrice was just a woman, so what did she know about anything but she had to think that just because a competitor moved in next door didn’t mean their store had to wave last season’s white flag. Especially if the competitor was Dalton.

“What I’d like to know is what we ever did to him to make him come into our turf and steal our customers,” Edward grumbled. He stared down at that last glowing ember and kicked some ash toward it with the toe of his shoe. Mother sipped her wine. He continued. “We’d been there for decades. We were there first.”

“Have you tried updating the merchandise?” Beatrice asked. “I did notice some of the hats were out of style. And coming from someone who is woefully out of style herself . . .” Beatrice shrugged to soften the fact that she had happened to notice the latest fashions in hats by looking out the window during the journey from the docks to the store.

In other words: How could Edward miss something so obvious?

“We can’t buy new inventory until we sell the old,” Edward explained impatiently, as if she were simpleminded. It was, she noted, not unlike how her ex-husband spoke to her. What did she know? She was just a woman. Just a wife. Just some silly society girl.

She’d crossed an ocean to get away from that and the less than way it made her feel. She would not tolerate it anymore.

“What about marking it down?” Beatrice inquired. “Move it out quickly, start fresh.”

“Our clientele—traditional, respectable men and women—do not want discounted items. We are Goodwin’s. We are not cheap.”

“So you’re just going to sell the whole shop, probably for little more than a song. You are going to give our father’s life work, our family’s pride and joy, to the highest bidder. You are going to give up.”

“Beatrice, that is no way to speak to your brother.”

“Never mind, Mother,” Edward replied. “If she’s so smart, maybe she can present a better idea?”

“Maybe I will,” Beatrice snapped.

And just like that, that little fire in her heart that she’d been nurturing flickered and burned a little bigger and brighter. Maybe you will think of something. It was a whisper of a mad idea but Beatrice listened. She closed her eyes and shut out the nay-saying of everyone in her life and listened intently for that little voice inside her. Maybe you will think of something.

Maybe not. But she could certainly try.

It’s not like she had anything else to do.

“I should mention that you don’t have much time to do it,” Edward said. “The board meets on Friday.”

“That doesn’t leave much time to save it at all,” Beatrice murmured. Her eyes were avoiding her family and staring intently at that last little ember. It wasn’t cold outside; otherwise the fire would be stoked to roaring. But she had a hankering to tend to it. She just couldn’t let it burn out and fade away. Not the fire. Not the store. Not herself.

So Beatrice stood and made her way to the grate.

“Step aside, Edward.”

“Stooping low these days, I see.”

“And I see work that needs to be done and no reason not to do it.”

“I beg your pardon, your ladyship.”

That was not the way she was to be properly addressed but that was exactly the point. She was just some lofty lady, out of touch with matters of business and