The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (3 page)

“So you want to get a fiancée and then do what?”

“Break off with her. Something public and disgraceful near the party’s end. After that, my status as Mr. Perfect will be shattered, and hopefully Mother and everyone else will leave me in peace and let me chose my own wife. Whom I can tell the entire story to at some later date.”

Her expression softened. “I must say, Mr. Buchanan, I first thought your intentions strange.”

“And now?” Anticipation lit a fire under him.

“Now I find them less so. But still, how do you know we can pull this off? I’m not sophisticated or charming or society.”

“Anything can be learned. I’ll teach you.”

“A thousand dollars.” She whispered the words with a kind of reverence.

“So you’ll do it?” He couldn’t help his grin.

She hesitated, chewing her lip so hard she had to be drawing blood.

“Please.” The word lingered between them.

Her face broke into a smile wide as a sunray. She grabbed his hand and shook hard. “Congratulations, Mr. Geoffrey Buchanan. You just bought yourself a girl.”

Chapter 3

H
ave you taken leave of your senses?”

“I hope not.” Ada settled herself on her threadbare sofa. Her best friend, Jenny Adams, sat on the opposite end, her expression as aghast as if Ada had announced plans to go parachuting off Mt. Everest.

“Geoffrey Buchanan has asked you to be his…betrothed?”

“To pretend, anyway.” Ada twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

“We’re talking about the same Geoffrey Buchanan, right? The wonder of Wall Street, owner of Buchanan Railway, temptation to every unmarried lady between the ages of sixteen and sixty? Come to think of it… maybe the married ones, too.” Jenny scrunched her nose.

“The very same.”

“Oh my goodness.” Jenny leaned forward. “You’ve actually
met
him?”

“Shh.” Ada put her finger to her lips. “Teddy’s sleeping.”

“Sorry.” Jenny lowered her tone an octave. “I can hardly believe it. Is he as handsome in real life as in the papers?”

Even more so. Too handsome for his own good. With his dark hair and intense blue eyes, he could pass for a hero in a Charlotte Brontë novel. A flush warmed Ada’s cheeks again. When she’d grasped his hand in hers, she hadn’t expected the tingle that sparked all the way down to her toes. It had been downright disconcerting, truth be told.

As little touching as possible.
She added the mental note to her rapidly growing list.

“Well? Is he?”

“I suppose so.”

“I knew it!” Jenny clasped her hands together. “But honestly, Ada, have you thought this through? Asking you to go to his mother’s fancy mansion in North Carolina and attend a party there for three weeks? When really the only thing his mother would think you fit to do is clean it? That doesn’t sound normal to me.”

“I know.” Ada sighed. She’d replayed their conversation in her mind a dozen times since yesterday evening. Wait, make that two dozen. Searching for hints, answers, anything to reveal his true motives.

Always coming up empty.

“Though I hate to be a spoilsport, m’ dear, you must carefully consider. Mr. Wonderful Buchanan could be using you for some rich man’s joke. You’ve been through enough already. You don’t need more humiliation.”

In the apartment nearest, children squabbled and a couple began their nightly shouting match. “You good for nothin’, lazy cur of a man!” Dreadful neighbors. Ada forced aside the unchristian desire to pound on the wall and scream at them to pipe down.

“But what if it is true? Just think, Jenny. A thousand dollars. And a job. Teddy could finally get the medical care he needs. We could move out of this rotten apartment and into some place less like a pigpen and more like a home. In fact, Mr. Buchanan has offices all across New York State and beyond. We could leave the city.” She let herself dissolve into the dream. Imagined Teddy breathing fresh air and eating farm-grown foods. Felt the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin.

“And if it’s a joke?” Jenny asked.

“That’s just a risk I’ll have to take.” Ada squared her shoulders, despite the doubts knotting through her. What if Jenny was right and Geoffrey Buchanan wasn’t as honorable as he appeared? Probably wasn’t, if the things the papers said were true. What if he took advantage of her? Demanded it as part of the bargain? The remembrance of Ralph Hunt’s lecherous gazes and roving hands…

Jenny’s brow furrowed. “You’ve always been different from all us other girls. You had dreams, while the rest of us were just content to survive. You, more than anyone, deserve to have those dreams come true. I only hope Geoffrey Buchanan treats you fair.”

“And if he doesn’t, I can take care of myself.” Ada forced a confident smile.

Yet that night, all she could do was stare at the ceiling and succumb to the doubts racing through her mind. What if they couldn’t pull it off? What if someone suspected they were not really engaged? Or that she wasn’t a society girl? Would she still get the money? For herself, it didn’t much matter. But Teddy… He needed it for his very survival.

Lord, help me to trust that You put this opportunity in my path for a reason. Give me strength. Fill my heart with peace.

With God’s help, she would do this. Even if she had to spend the next three weeks drooling over Geoffrey Buchanan’s every word, she would make it happen.

Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp, she’d see him again. He warned her not to be late, and she wouldn’t dare. Thank goodness Jenny had agreed to look in on Teddy during her absence. At least she could rest easy on that score.

“Be prepared for an adventure.”

His parting words rang in her ears. Pretending an engagement to the most eligible man in New York? Perhaps some might call it that.

A nail-biting, panic-inducing, inanely crazy adventure.

But an adventure nonetheless.

If only you could trust women. If a man said he would do something, 99 percent of the time he did it. Women on the other hand, employed the prerogative of changing their minds. Frequently from one minute to the next.

Was Ada McClane like most women?

The train station hustled with activity. A whistle blew, announcing the departure of another train. A lady bedecked in enormous leg of mutton sleeves waddled past, her maid carrying a ridiculous-looking poodle. Two gentlemen leaned against a lamppost, smoking cigars.

The familiarity of his railroad depot wrapped around him like a blanket. Yet instead of a routine inspection or press tour, he was getting on a train. Taking a trip. With a woman he barely knew.

Geoffrey flipped open his pocket watch and checked the time. Two minutes to go. He’d stressed punctuality. Would she follow orders? Or not show up at all?

A slight figure hurried down the platform, lugging a carpetbag that had seen better days. Gold curls escaped the confines of a straw hat, and her wrists poked through the sleeves of her painfully threadbare coat. He let himself breathe. One minute early. She hadn’t failed him.

“Good afternoon, Miss McClane.” He tipped his hat.

She set the bag down with a thud. Perspiration dampened her creamy skin. “Goodness! I didn’t realize what a long walk it was.”

“If you’d asked I could have sent a carriage.” He took her elbow and pulled her aside as two unruly boys darted past.

“Don’t worry about it.” She grinned. “It was a perfect opportunity to stretch my legs before we’re trapped like sardines.”

He checked his watch again. “Speaking of which, we’d better board. Allow me.” He took her arm in one hand and the carpetbag in the other. What was in the thing? Bricks?

“We’ll be taking my private railcar. I hope that’s acceptable.”

“Acceptable! It’s downright wonderful.”

He hid a smile. She did have a charming way of wording things. Even if it wasn’t quite up to Fifth Avenue standards. “Lesson number one, Miss McClane. A lady of my fiancée’s social class would not employ the use of the word ‘downright.’ It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

She nodded, her green eyes serious. A smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. With her hair falling loose, she looked all of seventeen years. Just how old was this “fiancée” of his?

“Then I won’t say it again. I’ll do my best to talk civilized. I’ve been reading a great deal. See how heavy my carpetbag is? Books, all of it. Brought ’em along for the journey.”

He smiled. “Well, there won’t be much time for reading. There’s a great many things I have to go over with you, and you’ll want to look through your trunks.” They reached the railcar near the end of the track. Red and gold, with B
UCHANAN
R
AILWAY
emblazoned in gold lettering on the side, it gleamed in the afternoon sun.

“My trunks?”

He handed her bag to one of the stewards. “Put this in Miss McClane’s apartment.” Then turned back to her. “Of course. You can’t go to Meadowbrook in what you’re wearing now.” At the widening of her eyes, he added, “Don’t worry; I had someone who knows what they’re doing choose your clothes.” Procuring three trunks’ worth of outfits had been a feat he’d barely accomplished. Thank goodness he’d gotten them all sent over in time. Of course, they wouldn’t be the Worth creations all the other ladies wore, but they were pretty dashed good imitations, if he did say so himself.

“Just so long as a man didn’t pick ’em.” She shot a sassy smile over her shoulder as she stepped onto the railcar, hitching up her skirt to reveal threadbare stockings and patched shoes.

He followed, shaking his head.

He knew one thing already.

What would have been a dull-as-tombs journey would be anything but, with Ada McClane along for the ride.

Chapter 4

M
erciful heavens, this thing was a palace!

Ada stared. And kept on staring. Did the rich actually think themselves too good for ordinary trains? Obviously.

Grander than the interior of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, the railcar’s front room was a vision of wood-paneled luxury. Thick velvet drapes blocked most of the light, save what a silk-shaded lamp provided. Plush carpets rustled against her feet, and decorative pillows cluttered a brocaded sofa.

It even smelled good. Like scented candles and lemon oil. She drew in a long, delighted breath.

Footsteps crossed the carpet. She turned. Mr. Buchanan stood behind her, amusement in his eyes.

“You’re too rich for your own good.” The first thought that came to mind flew straight out of her mouth.

“I know.” He gave her an unrepentant grin. Her traitorous heart tripped a beat. He cleared his throat. “Now, before your reputation is tarnished by being in the same room with me alone, there’s someone you should meet.” He reached behind her and tugged a bellpull.

“Who—”

The adjoining door opened.

Ada stared again.

A lady sailed across the carpet with the fluid movements of a Shakespearian actress. Though the woman herself was middle-aged, the color of the gown draping her reedy frame sure wasn’t. Purple. Bright, unabashed purple. And her hair… so white-blond, nature couldn’t possibly have created it.

“Geoffrey, sweetheart.” The woman pecked Mr. Buchanan on the cheek, leaving a splotch of—could it be, lipstick? “Lovely room, honey. Thanks a million.”

“Glad you like it.” He turned to Ada. “Miss Ada McClane, allow me to introduce to you your new aunt. Mrs. Mamie Landseer.”

“A pleasure, dear.” The lady advanced. Ada took a step backward. Who… What was this? Mr. Buchanan hadn’t said anything about anyone accompanying them.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Ada accepted the offered handshake. Mrs. Landseer’s hands were soft and smooth as velvet, a stark contrast to her own work-calloused fingers. Hopefully, a pair of gloves would be included in the trunks supposedly in her room.

“She’s a real pixie, Geoffrey.” The woman grinned, showing more teeth than Ada suspected society would approve of. “Where’d you pick her up? The chorus line?”

Mr. Buchanan chuckled. “Never you mind. And wipe your lipstick off before we get to Meadowbrook, if you please.”

Ada resisted voicing her agreement.

“Just why do I need an aunt?” Ada cut her voice to a whisper.

Mr. Buchanan smiled, though his tone stayed firm. “You don’t expect me to bring my fiancée to meet my mother without an escort, do you? She’d think we were doing all sorts of scandalous things on our trip down there.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear,” Mrs. Landseer said. “I’m only here to keep up appearances. If you want to steal a kiss from Geoffrey, I promise to turn my head.” She laughed.

Heat flamed Ada’s cheeks, already flushed from the warmth of the railcar. She stiffened. “I’m here for business purposes, Mrs. Landseer. Nothing more.”

“Call me Mamie. Everybody does. So much more friendly, don’t you think? Want to go check out your new duds? Geoffrey’s checkbook works wonders. You should ask to borrow it sometime.” Still chattering, Mamie led the way through another door and down a narrow, carpeted hall.

Beneath them, the world rushed by, the
clickety-clack
of wheels the only indication they actually moved forward. Too late to turn around now.