An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,13
in a better fashion than the store.”
That was too rude. And so very unnecessary. Beatrice turned to him.
“Really? Are we really going to do this?”
“What?”
“It’s one thing if we are to be in competition with each other for the store which you obviously have wanted from the beginning and which is mine. It’s another if every conversation is to be trading needlessly petty barbs.”
“You’re right. I apologize.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to the business of finding a hack. It was a particularly terrible time of day to find one. Especially since, she noted now, the air was thick with the suggestion of a storm. Darkening skies, heavy clouds.
Splendid.
“Make no mistake, Beatrice, there will be a competition.”
“A prospect I find thrilling,” she said. Was that a hack up ahead? She stood tall and firm with her hand raised and prayed hard to The Patron Saint of Quick Escapes and The Goddess of Dramatic Exits. And glory, glory, hallelujah! It rolled to a stop in front of her. Ha! And he said she would not find a hack! The city, bless her, came through in her hour of need. A hack! With an imminent rainstorm!
This was the stuff that made one a true believer in divinity.
She wrenched open the door and climbed in and saw Dalton standing there watching her in disbelief that she had managed to obtain a hack at this time of day, in this uncertain weather. Ha!
Just at that moment, the storm clouds burst open.
In a matter of seconds Dalton was drenched, in his well-tailored suit, hat, and fine shoes. Soaked. Probably ruined. Was it terribly wrong if she found it satisfying? She decided she could be magnanimous in her triumph.
“Would you like a ride somewhere, Dalton? My carriage awaits.”
She gestured to the hired hack. It was dark, dirty, and the upholstery was ripped. The smell was somewhat unpleasant, like sweat and spilled things. “And, you know, it’s a terrible time of day to get a hack. I doubt you’ll find another.”
It was raining. He was getting wetter by the second. Comfort and vanity warred with a determination to make a point.
Dalton swore and climbed in.
The driver shouted back, “Where to, lady?”
“One West Thirty-Fourth Street and a second stop for the gentleman.”
He gave an address uptown. His own mansion, presumably. She wondered if he had gone for a simple but elegant brownstone or some ornate monstrosity that spanned an entire city block. She would probably never know. The residential situation of Wes Dalton was not her concern.
They both settled in for the ride.
As much as one could in an uncomfortable hired hack with a vaguely unpleasant smell.
He fixed his gaze on hers. His intense blue eyes that hadn’t dimmed in reality or her memory. Lashes darkened with rainwater. His black hair had hints of distinguished gray. Drat the man, he looked good soaking wet.
And, she noted, she was at leisure to enjoy the good looks of another man without fearing recriminations and accusations later. It had been worth it. The divorce, the scandal, the uncertainty had all been worth it.
“So you want to buy Goodwin’s,” Beatrice began. Because she felt one ought to make conversation.
“Clearly.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
She gave a huff of annoyance. “Ah. I see. You’re going to be broody and inscrutable, perhaps either to dissuade me from further conversation or to entice me by seeming mysterious. Either way, it shall make for an awkward carriage ride. Never mind, then. Don’t tell me. It doesn’t change anything for me to know why or why not you wish to buy my store.”
Dalton leaned forward.
“I’m the most successful retailer in New York and therefore the world, probably. I have a fortune to rival Vanderbilt and Rockefeller.”
“And so you need a run-down department store across the street . . .”
“You know I could ask the same as you? Why does a divorced woman want a nearly bankrupt business? There are other finer places for you to shop.”
“I have to do something all day now that I can’t flit about my castle. And don’t suggest finding a new husband—I won’t do it. It so happens that I am in the curious position of having so thoroughly ruined my reputation that I can do whatever I damned well please. What I have a hankering to do is take my favorite store in the world and return it to its former glory. Even if it means going up against the most successful retailer in New York.”
He said nothing. She leaned forward. “Even if it means he’ll