An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,42

Dalton said something she hadn’t expected to hear from his lips at all. “I have come to apologize.”

Margaret muttered some excuses and went to see about something urgent, critical, and vitally important.

“I am terribly busy but this might be something I have time for.”

“I’m sorry that I lost my temper yesterday,” he said.

“Thank you for your apology. Dalton, it’s just business.”

“Is it?”

His eyes dropped to her lips and they both knew he was thinking about and apologizing for that furiously charged almost-kiss—not the argument about the exodus of employees. Yesterday she’d had overwhelming How Dare He! feelings about that almost-kiss. And also If only feelings. And the kind of unnamed feelings when thinking about kissing and Dalton that lead to thinking about more than just kissing with Dalton.

As a rival businessperson, she didn’t want her thoughts to go there. Beatrice was acutely aware that she was setting an example to all the other women looking up to her, whether she wanted to or not. Beatrice the Beacon could not lose her wits and let one irate male get her flustered. She could not kiss her way out of problems or into them. The least she could do was not get stupid over a man.

But the long-lost part of her that had been nearly smothered to death in her loveless marriage liked the sparks. She wanted the fire.

As a gracious human, there was only one thing to say.

“Apology accepted. Thank you.”

Dalton grinned. “I would have brought flowers but that seems inappropriate, given that I would not have brought flowers had you been a man.”

“You mean to say that you’re not bringing bouquets and chocolates to Mr. Fields and Mr. Wanamaker?”

“I’m not in the habit of it, no.”

She lifted her eyes to find him gazing at her. Those blue eyes had once been so full of love and fire for her. And now she dared to think she still saw some sparks.

How inconvenient that would be.

What a distraction, too.

She could not afford distractions.

She also could not be sure that any attempt at seduction was not just a means to an end—Goodwin’s. Revenge. The ultimate betrayal.

She had time for none of that—not when her mother was planning to send out invitations to celebrate the opening of a store that was currently a mess of dust and debris and hope.

“I think we find ourselves in a situation for which there is no established etiquette,” he said.

“If you mean working with women—”

“I mean working with you. Given what we once were to each other.”

“And what’s that?” She wanted to know what he thought of it. Them. Their past. That something between them that somehow hadn’t quite gone away.

“Greatest love, greatest regret. One of the two,” he said with a shrug.

“Something like that I suppose,” she replied softly. “What has made you suddenly so introspective and considerate?”

“It doesn’t take a miracle or a dramatic turn of events for a man’s temper to cool and for him to see an apology is in order. It’s not exactly one of the great mysteries of the universe to know. Also, my friend Connor told me in no uncertain terms that an apology was in order.”

She was about to make some flippant comment about his smart friends when Margaret interrupted.

“Beatrice? I think you want to come see this.”

“What is it?”

“Probably nothing but . . . there is a chance it’s dangerous, threatening, and totally nefarious.”

“Well, now I’m intrigued,” Beatrice said but her heartbeat had quickened and it wasn’t because of Dalton. Margaret was not one for dramatics so if she said something was possibly dangerous, threatening, and nefarious it probably was.

She followed Margaret, and Dalton followed her, and a moment later they were standing in the newly constructed space designed as a luxurious ladies’ retiring room. It would be a space where they might freshen up, have a good cry and pull themselves together, look in the mirror and daringly reapply their lipstick.

Mirrors which had just been installed only yesterday. And which were now smashed.

“I would think it’s an accident but I’m not that charitable in my thoughts,” Margaret said and Beatrice concurred.

“You’re not wrong,” Dalton said. “It looks like someone took a hammer to each one in the center. It definitely looks deliberate.”

Beatrice gazed at the damage and beyond that, her reflection, which was fractured into a dozen tiny pieces instead of showing a whole woman.

Dalton swore under his breath.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“This wasn’t an accident,” Margaret said. She and Beatrice exchanged A Look that Dalton missed as he was