Duke of a Gilded Age (10 page)

As Wesley changed his clothes for dinner that night, he hummed under his breath. The thought of learning to dance with Belle excited a sense of fear as well as a thrill of anticipation into his heart. Despite her encouragement, he felt about as graceful as a newborn colt. He brushed his hair vigorously, in a vain attempt to flatten the curl.
I hope I’m up to the task of impressing her.

He emerged from his room to discover his mother waiting for him. She tsked when she saw his tie. “You only
imagine
you don’t need a valet.”

Her deep purple satin gown rustled as she crossed over to retie his silk four-in-hand. Wesley tried to stand still as she fussed with him. “Mother, Mr. Oakhurst has asked his daughter to teach me to dance. We’re going to practice on the ship.”

“That’s a splendid notion, and the Oakhursts are terribly thoughtful.” Lady Frederic finished with his tie and brushed off his lapels. “Now you look perfect.” She peered at him. “I hope you aren’t becoming too attached to Miss Oakhurst.”

Wesley covered his surprise with a bewildered sort of laugh. “Why would you say such a thing? Belle—I mean Miss Oakhurst—and I just met.”

His mother’s shrewd eyes seemingly missed nothing.

“Oh dear. Wesley, she’s a lovely girl and very pretty, but she’s engaged to be married.”

“I know that. She’s mentioned her fiancé several times.”

“After we’re ensconced at Caisteal Park, you’ll likely see each other infrequently, if at all.”

“She can’t possibly live more than a few miles away.”

“Geography isn’t the point.” Lady Frederic sighed. “Let’s not quarrel, dear. Enjoy visiting with Miss Oakhurst. She’ll be married soon enough, and after you taste the delights of society, you’ll forget her altogether.”

Out of respect for his mother, Wesley bit back a sharp retort. He escorted her down to the dining room, where the Oakhursts were waiting. Belle had changed into a dinner gown of green silk with dainty pink rosettes scattered across the fabric. When she smiled, the sight of her dimples made Wesley’s stomach lift.
Forget Belle? Impossible!

After breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Neal and Mr. Cavendish reported for work. Wesley was amused to see Mr. Cavendish had traded his bulldog walking stick for one with a nifty compass embedded in the handle. As Lady Frederic and Mrs. Neal discussed which gowns and accessories would be needed on the voyage, Wesley showed his valet the new clothes he’d purchased.

“Very nice.” Mr. Cavendish picked up Wesley’s old top hat. “But this won’t do at all.”

“That hat was my father’s. I bought a derby instead.”

“And a perfectly marvelous hat it is, for New York City. Bowler hats, as they are called in England, are fine for the banking set, but not for the aristocracy. And styles in top hats have changed from your father’s day. We’re going to have to nip down to the hat shop to purchase something more suitable.”

Mr. Cavendish reached into the valise he’d brought with him and produced a set of barber’s tools in a leather case. “First, however, we’ll give you a haircut.”

“Do you take your scissors everywhere you go?” Wesley asked, taken aback.

“Not usually, no, but I observed your hair was unkempt when I was here for the interview and therefore came prepared.”

The valet brought a chair into the bathroom and bade Wesley take a seat. After he draped a towel around Wesley’s shoulders, Mr. Cavendish styled his hair with aplomb. Wesley turned his head to admire his new haircut in the mirror. “You tamed the curl!”

“Yes, indeed. There’s no excuse for you to go around looking like a Teeswater ram. Shall we head downstairs?”

“Mr. Cavendish, did Mr. Oakhurst warn you that I’m new at all this royalty business? I only found out about the title a few days ago.”

“He did happen to mention that, Your Grace. I’ll do all I can to smooth your transition. And please, call me Cavendish.”

Wesley accompanied Cavendish to the Knox Hat Shop on the ground level of the hotel. After the clerk took a measurement of Wesley’s head, he produced a black silk top hat with a ribbed band encircling the brim. The crown was very slightly larger than the brim, lending the hat a jaunty look.

“It’s the very latest fashion,” the clerk explained.

The hat fit perfectly, and Wesley was pleased with the way the hat sat on his newly cropped hair. “I like it.”

“We’ll take two,” Cavendish told the salesclerk. “If one should meet with an unfortunate accident, we don’t want to be caught short.”

Wesley decided to wear the hat out of the shop. His derby was packed in the hatbox, along with the spare top hat, and Wesley paid the bill without even wincing at the total. Cavendish carried the package with him as he and Wesley returned to the hotel room. Lady Frederic was writing a letter at the desk while Mrs. Neal was packing garments nearby as carefully as Easter eggs. Mrs. Neal spared Cavendish a worried glance.

“The porter will be calling at three o’clock, Mr. Cavendish. He’s to pick up the large trunks bound for the steamship. You need to mark which trunks you want in the cabin, and which will be checked into the baggage hold.”

Cavendish gave her a stately bow. “Thank you, Mrs. Neal, we’ll be ready.” He turned to Wesley. “I have this in hand, Your Grace, if there is somewhere else you’d like to be this afternoon. Perhaps you can arrange an outing with Miss Oakhurst?”

“If you insist, Cavendish. I’ll go check with her at once.” Wesley paused. “And thanks.”

Wesley backed out of the room and strode down the hall toward the elevator. He couldn’t wait to show off his new hat to Belle.
Cavendish has proven to be invaluable so far. Perhaps I need a valet after all.

Belle sat in the sitting room reading
A Tale of Two Romances
, but her mind kept wandering. She glanced at her father, who was sorting through a sheaf of papers at the desk.

“Papa, when you’re finished, would you like to visit the Statue of Liberty? I’d love to see it up close.”

“I’m afraid I can’t just abandon the Parkers. What if they should need me for some last minute details?”

Belle swallowed her disappointment. “Of course, Papa. I understand.”

A knock sounded at the door, and she jumped to her feet. “I’ll get it.”

She opened the door to discover Wesley standing in the hallway. He removed his hat and bowed. “May I come in?”

“Certainly.”

As Wesley entered the room, Belle got a better look at him. “You’ve had a haircut!”

“And purchased a new top hat.” He gave it a flourish. “Cavendish has acquitted himself admirably on both accounts.”

Mr. Oakhurst rose. “How may I help you, Your Grace?”

“Since my valet is packing my trunks for me, I’ve the rest of the day free. Would you and Miss Oakhurst care to do some sight-seeing?”

“What a capital idea, Your Grace!” Belle exclaimed. “Do you suppose Lady Frederic would enjoy a visit to the Statue of Liberty?”

“I don’t see why not. Mrs. Neal seems to be on top of things and I think a little fresh air would do my mother a world of good,” Wesley said.

“I’m at your service, Your Grace,” Mr. Oakhurst said.

“My mother and I will meet you in the lobby shortly,” Wesley said as he headed for the door.

Belle did a pirouette and danced toward her room. “I’ll get my hat.”

From the Battery, the Oakhursts and the Parkers boarded one of the hourly ferries to Bedloe Island. The ferry wasn’t particularly full, so they had their pick of seats. Wesley and Belle sat together toward the prow of the vessel, watching the Statue of Liberty grow closer. Belle glanced over her shoulder toward her father and Lady Frederic, who were deep in conversation several rows back.

“Was it difficult to convince your mother to come today?” Belle asked.

“After Mrs. Neal reassured my mother she would complete her tasks well in advance, my mother couldn’t refuse.”

“Your timing was impeccable. I’d just asked my father if he would accompany me here today, but he declined.”

“Why?”

“For him, this isn’t a vacation. He works for you, Wesley, and he wanted to make sure your needs were met.” She giggled. “Fortunately, your needs have happily coincided with mine.”

“I’m very glad. This is my first visit to Bedloe Island.”

“How can that be?”

“My father had planned to take us after the Statue of Liberty was dedicated, but he died before we could go.”

“What a shame.”

Belle glanced at Wesley. The day she’d first met him he’d been fresh from a street brawl. The warrior-like expression of the recent past had fallen away to reveal the raw emotional wounds underneath. Almost of their own volition, her gloved fingers reached out. She meant only to give his hand the briefest of squeezes, but he captured her fingers in his and held them fast. Belle locked eyes with Wesley for several seconds before she remembered to breathe. With an apologetic smile, she withdrew her hand.

“Oh, yes, I know. It’s not proper,” he murmured.

Belle stared straight ahead as she willed her heart to quit racing.