An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,69

weight Beatrice felt when the well-meaning Ladies of Liberty held her up as a beacon to all the other women out there. Beatrice’s success or failure was somehow an indication of what was possible for the future, and to make amends for the past.

What a burden and what a gift, all at once.

Beatrice stood and returned to the window, watching and wondering if any hours in the day were lived for herself alone. Was it so very wrong if she seized one or two, just for herself?

A carriage pulled by four white horses rolled into view. Dalton leapt down.

Beatrice turned to her mother.

“Thank you, Mama.”

And then she was off, through the foyer and the front door and standing at the top of the stoop.

“No automobile?” she called down to Dalton.

“Apparently Prince Charming always arrives in a carriage pulled by white horses. Well, here I am.”

Oh, it was plain to see what he wanted. Her. All of her.

But what did she want?

The Top of the World

The offices of New York World were in the tallest building in New York City and thus quite possibly the world. The terrace on the top floor was not open to the public—especially not at this late hour. But one of the perks of being a millionaire tycoon with friends in high places was the ability to call in a favor and obtain exclusive after-hours access to the best view in Manhattan. It was vitally important to pull out all the stops when trying to woo a woman as magnificent as Beatrice.

Dalton had a second chance. No one ever said Wes Dalton failed to seize an opportunity.

Beatrice sighed when she took in the view of the city, the river, the sky. “I am in awe and enchanted and utterly terrified all at once.”

Me, too, Dalton thought. He wasn’t thinking about the view.

“I thought I would show you my favorite view of the city,” he said. “When you’re down on the streets, it’s a constant crush and hustle. But up here it’s quiet and you can see how far we’ve all come.”

“The city is so different than I remembered,” Beatrice said, staring out into the night sky, a mix of stars and man-made lights, a vast expanse of sky and towers of steel and brick jutting up, insisting on making their presence known.

“You were gone so long.”

“A lifetime, practically.”

“A city block can change from year to year. I hardly remember what the city looked like last year, let alone when you left.”

Then again, he hardly ever stopped to notice. He was always so busy making the journey from his mansion uptown to his palace downtown and back again, with the forays to parties and the theater. He hardly ever slowed down to observe everyone else’s progress, so consumed he was with his own.

He led her around the corner, where a table had been set for dinner. There were candles in glass lanterns, fresh flowers, chilled champagne. A waiter stood nearby, ready to pour champagne and serve them food.

“Oooh, Dalton, you’ve outdone yourself. This is unexpected.”

“My first rule of retail is to surprise and delight. Always astonish the customer.”

She laughed and turned to him. “You have rules?”

“Rules. Truths. Words to live by. Whatever you want to call it. The fact is, I didn’t stumble my way to earning the title of merchant prince of Manhattan.”

“Tell me everything,” Beatrice said as she took a seat at the table.

“Tell my competitor all my trade secrets?” But then she smiled and he was lost.

“Well, if you’re still trying to buy my store, then perhaps you had better keep your secrets to yourself.”

There was a beat of silence as he considered. Hardly longer than a heartbeat of silence. He knew what she was asking.

This was his moment to decide and to let her know.

“The second rule is that a customer—most often a woman—should always have a choice,” he said smoothly as if it were just conversation and he hadn’t just surrendered. “Why offer one style of gloves when I can offer her a dozen? Because the other important rule is that a woman should always get what she wants.”

“I think I like your rules.”

“A woman—a customer—should always have the right to change her mind. No questions asked.”

Dalton was speaking about returns. And by virtue of her position as president of her own retail operation, Beatrice was uniquely suited to understand the hard dollar amount that cost him every time a woman had a change of heart. He paid the price so she