An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,84
then what will you do?
What will you do with the rest of your life when the thing you had originally set out to do is now moot? She was young yet. She had money. Friends. Connections. She still had passion and ambition to burn, though perhaps she might not phrase it thusly any longer.
“I for one hope you’ll rebuild,” Ava said.
And then there was a chorus of female voices rising up all around. Calls for a bigger, taller, more stunningly beautiful store, the likes of which the world had never seen. They would fundraise for it. They would plan it and build it together.
“Marian could design something for you,” Ava suggested. “She just graduated from architectural school.”
“I’d be happy to help oversee construction,” said Emily, who oversaw the Brooklyn Bridge construction years earlier.
“We’re all ready to shop at this new store,” someone said and a chorus of women agreed. Beatrice would build them a store worth waiting for. They dreamed out loud about what it would be like to make a monument to female consumption with no constraints. They plotted and discussed options and timelines and considered both the practicalities of such a project without limiting the scope of their dreams.
It was, of course, interrupted by a man.
The butler announced a caller.
Mr. Wes Dalton himself, looking every inch the powerful romantic hero in a dark, exquisitely tailed suit. A bruise on his cheek and a bandaged hand hinted at his recent heroics. He carried a newspaper.
All of a sudden, every one of the Ladies of Liberty remembered urgent appointments that necessitated their swift and immediate departures.
Dalton stood by, allowing them all to pass.
“Some have said that I’m a catch, but I guess that’s before I sent a drawing room of women fleeing,” he remarked drily.
Before she knew what was happening, the doors to the drawing room clicked shut softly and they were alone.
“Please, do sit,” she said and he did, setting his newspaper down on the table between them. He leaned forward, his blue eyes full of concern and fixed on her.
“How are you, Beatrice?”
“To be honest, I’ve been better,” she said drily, and he laughed and it thrilled her.
“Glad to see your sense of humor wasn’t damaged.”
“Have you come to say I told you so?”
“No. Although . . .”
“You could. You warned me about the dangers. You said I ought to stay home.”
“But if you had stayed home, you wouldn’t have been in a position to save the lives of your employees and customers,” he said, and it made her breath catch and her heart stop because that sounded like an admission that he knew she belonged in her store, that it was where she was at her best and most useful.
Not at home, languishing.
And if he knew and he thought that and he was still here, even after she had refused his proposal, what did that mean for her and him and them together? What did she even want?
“So maybe I should say I told you so,” she replied, trying and faltering at lighthearted conversation. Because he looked so handsome, so strong, so steady that she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms. She understood, finally, what kind of comfort and protection he’d been offering.
“If you wish.”
“No, it doesn’t matter now.”
“I have come to apologize for . . . everything. There have been moments where I wished to burn Goodwin’s to the ground but I never would have done it. Connor, on the other hand, feared losing everything we’d worked for. He’d feared losing to you. I hadn’t known any of this until this morning.”
“It seems some men can’t handle a little competition,” she said and it put in stark relief Dalton, who could handle competition with a woman. Who even seemed to enjoy it. Her heart did a little flip-flop. Because this man challenged her to do better, and she him.
Why, then, had she refused his proposal?
“I feel responsible. If I had been more attentive to Connor . . .” Beatrice could see the guilt racking his body. “I could have stopped him. I could have turned him in. I didn’t touch the matches but I feel as guilty as if I’d started the fire myself.”
“But you didn’t. It’s not your fault, Wes. And it’s done and Connor will go to jail and the world will see what happens to second-best men when they go up against an army of women.”