A Talent for Trouble (6 page)

Though her friend had claimed time and time again she'd abandoned all hope in regard to Zayne and his affections, everyone knew she wasn't exactly telling the truth.

The very idea that she'd neglected to even consider the plight of her friend spoke volumes about her selfish character.

She was a sorry excuse for a friend.

“Is something the matter, Felicia?”

Felicia pulled herself out of her thoughts and found Grayson watching her closely. “No.”

“You're looking a little pale.”

“To think Eliza truly does seem to be under the misimpression that you're capable of charm.” Felicia shook her head. “Telling a lady she looks anything other than delightful is not charming in the least, and I suggest you remember that.”

“I thought you took exception to the term
delightful
?”

All the breath left her in a split second. He'd remembered their exchange. No one ever bothered to pay marked attention to anything she said.

Chills swept down her spine, followed quickly by alarm. What in the world was the matter with her? Grayson Sumner was not the sort of gentleman who should be causing her chills.

He was too worldly, too jaded, and—as she'd mentioned to her mother—too dangerous.

Why then did she suddenly find him rather fascinating, even though she knew perfectly well he was less than fond of her at the moment? Could it be possible she was instinctively drawn to gentlemen who were completely unacceptable for her?

Pushing that disturbing idea aside, she forced a smile. “I readily admit the word
delightful
does annoy me upon occasion, especially since I've come to believe it was used to humor me instead of compliment me.”

Grayson crossed his arms over his chest, and time seemed to stop moving as he looked her up and down again.

Heat flooded her face, but then he stepped closer to her and smiled a smile that actually appeared to be genuine. “Today you, my dear Felicia, look incredibly delightful, and I assure you, I'm not trying to humor you in the least.”

His words swirled around her mind, and much to her surprise, her vision suddenly went a little misty as unexpected tears stung her eyes.

It was a sincere compliment, something she hadn't received in quite some time, if ever, from a gentleman. She blinked rapidly to hold the tears at bay, even as she spun on her heel and walked as quickly as she could to the small table where she'd left her reticule. She opened it, pulled out a handkerchief, dabbed at her eyes, and when she felt sufficiently composed, turned to find Grayson and Agatha watching her closely.

“Good heavens, Felicia, are you all right?” Agatha asked.

Felicia waved the handkerchief in the air. “Don't mind me. I seem to get overwrought at the strangest things these days—not that I get overwrought on a regular basis—but . . . I'm fine now.”

Grayson frowned. “You don't appear fine.”

“There you go again, being charming,” she muttered. “I just want everyone to stop pitying me.”

Grayson's lips twitched ever so slightly. “Dissolving into tears when someone tells you that you look delightful is a
wonderful
way to go about seeing that happen.”

“He does make a good point,” Agatha added as she stepped up to Felicia's side and took her arm. “I've just had a marvelous idea, one that will forever stop people from pitying you.”

Apprehension was swift, replaced with outright alarm when Agatha began towing her toward the door. “What's your idea?”

“I'll tell you when we get to the restaurant.”

“We're going to a restaurant?” Grayson asked.

Agatha nodded. “Of course we are. I'm starving, and I won't be able to explain my idea properly until I get something to eat.”

Felicia dug in her heels, causing Agatha to lurch to a halt. “I'm not going anywhere until you explain at least a little of this plan of yours.”

Agatha tightened her grip and tried to pull Felicia forward, but when Felicia wouldn't budge, blew out a breath.

“Fine, but I'm telling both of you right now that I expect full cooperation from each of you.”

Grayson blinked. “I'm involved in this plan?”

“Indeed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The last plan I agreed to that involved me being in Felicia's vicinity almost got me killed.”

“That's a little overly dramatic,” Felicia muttered.

“Did you, or did you not, lose control of the horses and drive them along the sidewalk instead of the road, causing too many people to count to throw themselves out of your way?”

“There were only three people who had to dive out of our way.”

Agatha held up her hand. “Children, behave.”

Felicia closed her mouth, as did Grayson.

“My plan is not a complicated one, and shouldn't involve anything of a dangerous nature.” Agatha's smile widened. “We're simply going to have Grayson escort you to the Beckett ball, and since he's currently considered one of the most eligible gentlemen in New York City, no one will think to pity you again.”

D
isgruntlement, mixed with apprehension, was immediate.

Grayson couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a disturbing trend occurring—a trend that had thrust him directly into the position of knight in shining armor on an all too frequent basis.

Granted, he'd willingly gone along with Eliza's demands, fetching Felicia the day before and agreeing to seek Agatha out today, but his participation with his sister's demands was only due to guilt, not because he was inherently chivalrous.

Couldn't anyone see that his armor, what little he actually possessed, was remarkably tarnished—and because of his past was hardly likely to ever shine again?

The last thing he wanted to do was escort Felicia to a ball. It would require he spend hours in her company alone, hours that he was fairly certain would be vastly uncomfortable, given that he was rapidly becoming fascinated with the lady.

He'd distanced himself from her at Eliza's house not because
he was annoyed about her driving abilities—or lack thereof, as the case seemed to be—but because he'd been helplessly drawn to her as she'd driven his horses haphazardly down the street—and an occasional sidewalk—her shrieks of laughter doing odd things to his heart.

His heart had once again begun acting rather peculiarly when she'd gone all misty-eyed simply because he'd proclaimed her appearance delightful.

He hadn't actually been truthful in that moment, because . . . she was more than delightful today, wearing a new gown that molded to her charming curves and sent his temperature rising.

He was becoming obsessed with the lady.

He should have remembered a pressing engagement when he visited the Murdock home seeking Agatha's whereabouts and Mrs. Murdock had informed him she was at B. Altman's with Felicia—especially since it had been abundantly clear that Mrs. Murdock was still cherishing hopes of him becoming better acquainted with her daughter. She'd not been bothered in the least when he'd reiterated time and time again that he needed to find Agatha, not Felicia, but had simply patted him on the cheek, told him to say hello to her daughter for her, and practically pushed him out the door.

What could he have been thinking, traipsing off to B. Altman's, knowing full well it was madness to spend additional time in Felicia's company? Eliza would have understood if he'd been unable to track Agatha down, but here he was, standing only a few feet away from the lady who'd begun to occupy his almost every thought.

An elbow placed none too gently in his side brought him rapidly back to the situation at hand. He glanced at Agatha, who looked as if she longed to do more to him than stick her bony elbow in his ribs, and then at Felicia, who was a delicate
shade of pink but who was glaring back at him, her amazing eyes blazing with heat.

He'd apparently been lost in thought longer than he'd realized, but what to do now?

Should he give in to Agatha's request and agree to escort Felicia to the ball, even though doing so was against his better judgment? What would happen if she formed an attachment to him, which would cause him to disappoint her, and then . . .

“I'll pick you up at eight.” He heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them.

To his immediate annoyance, instead of smiling and accepting his less-than-gracious offer, Felicia stuck her nose in the air. “I think not,” she announced before she spun on her heel, stalked to the fitting-room door, and disappeared from view.

“Well, hmm . . .” was all he seemed capable of responding, which caused Agatha to let out a snort right before she stomped out of the room as well, leaving him standing there by himself.

At this rate, it wouldn't be long at all until everyone realized he was no knight in shining armor. Then he'd be left in peace, not expected to run at the drop of a hat after ladies who seemed to have the propensity for running amok.

That idea, surprisingly enough, hardly sent relief flowing through him.

He made for the door and increased his stride, edging around shoppers and racks of clothing until he finally caught up with Felicia and Agatha, who were standing in front of the steam elevator.

Neither of the ladies bothered to speak a single word to him as they waited for the elevator to arrive, but to his further annoyance, they became downright chatty with the elevator operator once the door opened and that gentleman ushered them inside.

Before their descent began, Felicia asked if she could operate the lever that controlled the elevator, and the operator was only too happy to agree. Grayson couldn't say he blamed the
man. When Felicia was smiling, much like she was doing at that moment, her smile seemed to bring out the best in people. The operator, appearing absolutely thrilled that a beautiful lady was giving him her undivided attention, briefly explained how the lever worked and with a besotted smile handed it over to Felicia—and she handled that lever in much the same way she'd driven his horses.

By the time they finished their jerky ride to ground level, he was afraid he was about to lose his breakfast. The moment the operator opened the gilded doors, Grayson stumbled out of the dreaded contraption, so determined to get out of what he'd come to think of as a death device that he completely forgot to allow the ladies to go first. Felicia didn't even appear to notice his blunder, though, as she bid the elevator operator a good day and brushed past Grayson with nothing but a very loud sniff.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” Agatha snapped, drawing his attention as she stepped up beside him. “You've hurt Felicia's feelings.”

“I told her I'd pick her up at eight.”

“In a remarkably unpleasant tone of voice.” Agatha grabbed his arm and prodded him forward. “Felicia's in a precarious state of mind at the moment, and you're hardly helping that situation. Go apologize, and then tell her you'll be completely disheartened if she doesn't agree to accompany you to the ball.”

“That might be stretching the truth just a touch, and she needs to apologize to me for scaring a good ten years off my life just now. Did it escape your notice that she had a heavy hand with that lever? Quite frankly, I'm not certain elevators are supposed to stop and start that abruptly. We're lucky the silly thing didn't break altogether and plummet to the ground, killing us in the process.”

Agatha ignored his little speech and pointed a finger toward Felicia's back. “Go.”

“Has anyone ever told you you're annoyingly bossy?” he mumbled before he set after Felicia, having no idea what he was going to say to her when he caught up with her, but realizing he couldn't simply let her leave without some words being spoken between them.

Perhaps he should just be candid and explain that he wouldn't care to hurt her in the future, but . . . no, that would hardly do.

Knowing Felicia, she'd take that as a clear indication of his arrogance, and now that he thought about it, it was beyond arrogant to assume she'd develop feelings for him.

She'd never given him any reason to believe she held him in affection, so perhaps assuming she would develop feelings for him in the future was strictly wishful thinking on his part—and thinking he shouldn't even be contemplating in the first place.

He saw the back of her skirt swish through the main doors of the store and increased his stride, nodding his thanks to the doorman before he raised his hand to block the sun that hit him squarely in the eyes. He looked around and felt a moment of panic when he couldn't locate Felicia.

“Young lady, have you lost your mind? Let go of my packages.”

Grayson's mouth dropped open when his attention settled on an elderly lady engaged in what could only be described as a fierce tug-of-war with none other than Felicia. He forced his mouth shut and moved forward, coming to a stop right beside the struggling ladies.

“Mrs. Shaffer, I'm not trying to steal your purchases. I'm simply trying to help you. You were about to lose one of the bags.”

The lady, apparently one Mrs. Shaffer, abruptly released her hold on all the packages, causing Felicia to stumble backward. He caught her and held her close to him for just a second, but when he began to enjoy the feel of her softness, he quickly set her back on her feet even as he took the bags away from her.

“Good heavens, Miss Murdock, you must forgive me,” Mrs.
Shaffer exclaimed, stepping closer to them and squinting at Felicia. “I didn't recognize you at first. I thought you were one of those thieves who dress up in pretty clothing and try to prey on elderly shoppers.”

She reached for her reticule, pulled out a pair of spectacles, shoved them over her nose, and proceeded to look Felicia up and down. “May I say you look positively delightful today? I always knew there was an incredibly lovely lady lurking under those voluminous fashions you so oddly embrace. Dare I hope you've given those up?”

Protective instincts he hadn't realized he possessed caused him to step forward, intent on interceding on Felicia's behalf, but to his amazement, instead of hurt lurking in her eyes, there was clear amusement.

“I must thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Shaffer, and yes, I have firmly abandoned my wardrobe of old, which is why I was at B. Altman's today. But enough about me. Whatever possessed you to try and manage all of these packages on your own? I thought you were about to collapse under the weight of them—which is why I rushed over to help you. Although I must apologize if I startled you. That certainly wasn't my intent. Did you not bring an attendant with you?”

It took everything Grayson had to not drop the packages he was holding for Mrs. Shaffer and charge immediately in the opposite direction. If there was any question remaining regarding Felicia's kind heart, that question had just been answered and lent further proof to the idea she was too good to be sullied by his company.

Few young ladies he knew would rush to the aid of an elderly woman burdened with too many packages. In fact, few ladies would have noticed that assistance was needed in the first place.

She truly was a compassionate soul, and that meant he was
going to have to maintain his distance from her. It would be a true tragedy if his blackened soul damaged the goodness of hers.

“. . . and I have my driver with me, but he remained with my carriage,” Mrs. Shaffer was saying. “I had no intention of purchasing so many items, and didn't realize how many bags I'd procured until I got out here.”

Grayson cleared his throat. “I'll be happy to deliver these to your carriage if you'll tell me where it's parked.”

Mrs. Shaffer's eyes widened right before they turned speculative. “You're Mr. Sumner.”

He inclined his head. “Indeed.”

“This is Mrs. Shaffer,” Felicia supplied. “I know her from church.”

Grayson smiled. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Shaffer.”

“And yours as well, Mr. Sumner.” She slipped the spectacles down her nose and surprised him with a wink. “Dare I hope that you and Miss Murdock are enjoying this fine day together?”

“Ah, well . . .”

She continued before he had an opportunity to come up with a response. “I do hope you realize how fortunate you are to be in Miss Murdock's company, my good man. Why, I don't believe there's another lady in the entire city who possesses such a compassionate spirit.” She winked again. “Any gentleman would be lucky to secure her affections.”

And that exactly explained the root of his problem. Felicia might have abandoned her repulsive fashions, but she couldn't abandon her innate goodness, and that goodness would compel her to try and save him in the end, even though he didn't deserve saving.

“Miss Murdock's compassion does, indeed, put the rest of us to shame,” Agatha said, stepping up beside them and saving
him from having to pull out some type of benign response. “It's lovely to see you, Mrs. Shaffer.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and then Grayson followed Mrs. Shaffer to her carriage, handing an embarrassed-looking driver all the packages, and helped Mrs. Shaffer up and into the carriage. But he wasn't fast enough to escape her before she opened her mouth.

“Treat her well, Mr. Sumner, or you'll have to answer to me.”

He summoned up a smile, kissed the elderly lady's hand, placed it back on her lap, and decided silence was the only answer he was comfortable giving her. He had the sneaky suspicion there were many in society who felt protective of Felicia—no matter that she thought everyone found her ridiculous—and because of that protectiveness, he was definitely going to have to maintain a good deal of space between them.

He shut the carriage door and turned, suppressing the urge to sigh when he noticed Felicia and Agatha waiting for him—both with their arms crossed over their chests, and both watching him rather disgruntledly.

“Ladies, while it's been lovely seeing the two of you today, I do think it's time I bid you goodbye.”