Rescuing the Heiress

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything wrong or unseemly. The crowd was very large and I’m sure my presence went unnoticed, at least for the most part.”

“You will not go again,” her father said flatly.

That was his normal manner of making his wishes known, yet this time it rankled Tess more than usual. “I cannot promise that,” she replied, feeling a surge of power accompanied by an equal amount of foreboding.

“What?”

If Tess had thought his face flushed before, it was pale compared to the way it looked now. She could almost imagine jets of steam escaping from his ears. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Father, but there is nothing bad about my attending meetings composed of genteel women, and I shall do so again if I choose.”

“Bah.” He bit down on the end of the cigar and kept it clamped between his teeth as he glared at her.

There had been many instances in the past when Tess had cowered under her father’s powerfully intent stare. Not this time. Although she hadn’t stayed for Miss Younger’s entire lecture she had been impressed by the atmosphere of freedom within the hall. That and the suffragette pamphlets she had read and reread so many times that they were almost falling apart had given her inner strength.

Tess straightened her spine, nodded and took a few steps, sidling past her father to start up the spiral staircase. “I respect and admire you, Papa,” she paused to say. “Please try to afford me the same.”

She didn’t look back and heard no comment in her wake. By the time she reached the sanctuary of her private suite and closed the outer door behind her, she was trembling at the thought of what she had just said and done. Still, she had succeeded. She had politely stood up to her father and he had not screamed or cursed at her the way he sometimes did the servants. As far as she was concerned, that had been a big, big step toward her eventual emancipation.

Sighing, Tess leaned her back against the door. Praise God. Not only had she managed to temper her father’s expected wrath, she had done so without having to mention Michael Mahoney’s participation in the evening’s escapade. For that, she was most thankful of all.

Given the way her heart leaped at the mere thought of that attractive man, she was afraid her father—and anyone else who saw her—might discern that she was enamored with Michael to the point of idiocy. She could still imagine the sensation of being held in his strong arms, of feeling his breath on her cheek, of yearning to be near him every moment.

Heart pounding, breathing shallow and ragged, Tess fought to subdue her roiling emotions. What was wrong with her? Was she becoming unhinged? Scripture plainly warned against coveting and that was exactly what she was doing.

Is it wrong to merely daydream? she asked herself. Surely not. After all, if people had no lofty dreams and aspirations they would never accomplish anything of value.

“Yes, except this is an impossible dream,” she whispered into her otherwise unoccupied boudoir.

She knew her conclusion was right. She also knew that she dared not confess her foolish imaginings to anyone. There were some things, some very personal things, that must remain private. Tess had shared many secrets with Annie Dugan, especially during the recent years after Mama’s passing, but this ridiculous infatuation would not be one of them.

It occurred to Tess to wish that Michael would take serious notice of Annie instead, but she found she couldn’t carry through with an actual prayer for such a thing. Seeing him courting the maid—or anyone else for that matter—would be like the thrust of a dagger through Tess’s tender heart.

Breathless, she stood quietly and tried to understand why she was so overcome with unfathomable emotion. She had been acquainted with Michael for at least six years, ever since her father had hired Mary as their cook, yet she had never viewed him this way before.

She and Michael had talked and joked and had even engaged in innocent child’s play as youngsters, such as the time they had been verbally sparring in the kitchen and she had blown a handful of flour onto his dark, wavy hair, then had laughed and run away.

Michael had chased and caught her in the rose garden, holding tight to her wrist so she couldn’t have escaped no matter how hard she’d struggled.

“Let me go!” Tess had screeched, trying her best to twist free.

“Not on your life.” He had been laughing, too, as he had shaken his hair and spread a dusting of the flour onto her blue frock. They had laughed, chased, played. Had a perfectly wonderful time until Mary had called out to them, stopped the tussle and scolded her fun-loving son.

Now, however, even the memory of those sweet, innocent times was enough to make Tess tremble anew and yearn to see him again even if he paid her no attention whatsoever. Truth to tell, she mused, the less special attention he paid to her, the better for all involved.

That was an unarguable fact. So why was she having such a hard time convincing herself to accept it as the most sensible choice?

When Tess awoke the following morning she was still reliving every wonderful event from the previous evening, especially the trip to and from the pavilion.

Pulling back the heavy drapes at her window, she stood for a moment to bask in the welcome rays of sun that had finally burned through the dreary fog. It was easy to compare that kind of contrast to the way she’d felt before and after she’d nearly taken a tumble and had spent those blissful few moments resting in Michael’s arms. It was as if her whole life had been suddenly filled with a brightness so intense it was almost painful.

Dressing alone because she’d sent Annie back down the hill to visit her widowed mother, Tess descended the wide, sweeping staircase. First she’d breakfast with Father in the formal dining room the way she normally did. It might be trying to carry on a pleasant conversation after his negative reaction to her actions last night, but facing him this morning would help her discern whether or not he was still upset.

Entering the large, formal dining room she paused, puzzled. There was a floral centerpiece with unlit tapers standing tall and stately at each end of it. The handmade damask and lace cloth beneath was pristine, as always. However, the room was not occupied. Papa was not seated at the head of the table. Nor was there the usual silver coffee service waiting for him on the buffet.

Her breath whooshed out all at once when she realized what that meant. Papa had eaten early and left!

Immensely relieved to postpone facing the one person she never seemed able to fully please, Tess swept past the table with a lighter heart and lithe step and pushed the swinging door to enter the kitchen.

The cook looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Mary.”

“Morning, miss. You heard that Mister Gerald has already had his breakfast?”

“I saw he was gone, yes.” Tess knew she was grinning foolishly but she couldn’t help herself. She’d fretted for hours the night before, anticipating a confrontation with her banker father, and it looked as if he’d put aside his displeasure—at least enough to go about his normal business rather than dally to chastise her. Annie would be very glad to hear that, too.

“I believe I’ll take my breakfast right here with you,” Tess told the cook.

The woman’s astonished expression made Tess giggle and ask, “What’s wrong? Does it bother you?”

“No, miss. I’m just surprised, is all. You haven’t been visiting me much since you got too big to beg sweets.”

“I’ll never be too old for that.” Tess pulled up the same stool Michael had used the day before, sat down and leaned her elbows on the table in spite of knowing it was poor etiquette to do so. “I like it here. I can relax and not worry about how I sit or how I eat or anything else. Can you understand that?”

Mary smiled and her apple cheeks brought happy crinkles to the corners of her brown eyes. “Aye. I’ve often wondered how ladies like you can stand to be laced up so tight and sit so proper all the time. I’d think it would be a terrible trial.”

“It is.” Tess accepted the cup of hot coffee Mary placed before her with a pleasant “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, miss.”

Although Tess had always felt at ease in the kitchen, whether she was grabbing a cookie or maybe sampling the upcoming meals, she could tell she had just taken another step forward in her relationship with Mary Mahoney, especially judging by how the older woman was smiling down on her.

“Your dear departed mother used to visit me this way,” Mary said. “Especially when…”

“When she knew she was about to pass?” Tess asked, her smile growing wistful.

“Aye. Mister Gerald didn’t want to listen to how she really felt so she’d come out here sometimes and talk to me. She was a lovely person.” The cook blinked back unshed tears. “And now that you’re grown, you’re the spitting image of her.”

“That’s what everyone says.” Moved, Tess paused to sip her coffee and used the time to compose herself. “I do miss her. It’s only been a little over four years, but there are times when I try to picture her face or recall the sound of her voice and I can’t quite do it.”

“That’s all right,” Mary said. “Remembering the love is all that counts. She loved you dearly.”

“I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t had my Annie to listen to me back then. It’s no wonder we’ve grown so close.”

“Where is Annie?” Mary looked past Tess toward the main part of the mansion. “Isn’t she hungry, too?”

“If she is, her own mother will be fixing her something,” Tess said. “She got so homesick after we’d been into the city last night, I sent her off to Mrs. Dugan’s early this morning. We had hoped to see her mother at the lecture but the crowd was so huge there was little chance of finding anyone in that mass of humanity.”

“Scrambled eggs all right?” Mary asked with her back to Tess.