The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (2 page)

Opening one eye, she peered across the pile of pillows and through the bed drapes to see only the faintest glow of daylight at the edge of the curtains. “Still early,” she muttered. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll…”

She snuggled deeper into her pillow and closed her eyes.

“Miss Cooper, you’ve fallen back to sleep. Do wake up.”

A blinding shaft of light intruded on her slumber, and Gennie fumbled for a pillow to cover her face. Finding none within reach, she struggled into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the maid said, “but it’s half past ten.”

“Half past ten?” Gennie sputtered, suddenly alert. “How in the world will I explain to Mrs. Vanowen why I missed such an important event as her post–Independence Day breakfast?”

Gennie fought her way through the bed curtains and reached for her robe. As she tied the sash, she began to pace, carefully avoiding the pillows strewn across the Aubusson carpet. She’d also have to explain her absence to Chandler Dodd, although that prospect didn’t upset her nearly as much as disappointing her father.

“Papa will be most upset,” she said as she drifted toward the easternmost window and glanced at the midmorning rush on Fifth Avenue three stories below. “He so coveted a place on Mrs. Vanowens’s list for Mama, and with this snub, she’ll certainly be overlooked next time.”

Mae Winslow, on the other hand, cared little for such frippery.
If only…

“So sorry, miss.” The hapless maid, Mary’s replacement, ducked her head and inched forward, the silver tray she held wobbling with each step. “You see, there’s been a most upsetting problem with my sister’s departure, and I—”

“Never mind.” Gennie gave the tray a cursory glance, then pointed to the dressing table nearest the window overlooking the park. “Perhaps you’d like to tell all of this to our neighbor.” She paused as the maid’s eyes filled with tears. Gennie sighed. “Forgive me. I’m being awful. I’m exhausted because I stayed up too late.” Her heart sank. This was no way to begin with a new employee. “What’s your name?”

The dark-haired girl fixed her attention on her shoes. “Fiona, miss. Fiona McTaggart.”

“Perhaps there’s no harm done, Fiona.” Gennie seated herself at the writing desk and pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer.

Crafting two notes of regret that included only vague mentions of any specifics of her condition, she dried the ink, folded the paper, and then set her seal on the edge. When the wax hardened, she held the notes out to Fiona.

“Have Simmons send someone to deliver these, please.” She paused to set her tone in what she hoped was a mix of understanding and firmness. “And then perhaps we will both be forgiven for our transgressions.”

The girl grinned, then quickly seemed to remember her place. “You’re every bit as nice as Mr. Simmons said you’d be. Oh!” She stifled a gasp. “Begging your pardon, miss, but I’d be ever so grateful if you’d not mention I forgot to wake you. I’m afraid I’d be out on my ear after my first day, and with my sister’s leaving us this afternoon, I don’t know how I’d take care of my mama and my ailing papa.”

“Of course, I won’t mention it. There’d be no purpose to it.”

As Fiona scurried out, Gennie rose and turned her attention back to the scene unfolding on the street below. Several drivers had arrived with carriages, and liveried attendants milled about beneath a brilliant blue sky.

She let her gaze drift across the street and up the marble steps of the imposing mansion that sat on the corner like a wedding cake. The Vanowens’ third floor ballroom stood at eye level, floor-to-ceiling windows open to the fresh July breeze. A lone figure swept the marble floor where, as a child, Gennie and her friend Hester Vanowen pretended to ice skate across the polished marble in their stocking feet.

Gennie’s family returned the favor when Hester accompanied them to their house in Newport, where the long upstairs hallway opened onto a balcony that overlooked the lawn and the ocean beyond. Little imagination was required to believe that with just a bit of extra effort, one might be able to launch over the balcony’s edge and soar into the clouds.

Hester only attempted it once, and thankfully the thick foliage broke her fall. Even better, Mama and Papa were away at the time.

“May the Lord bless you, miss. Perhaps you’d like me to pour your coffee now?”

Gennie turned to see the door close behind the maid. “Yes, Fiona. Please do.”

A flurry of activity across the street again caught her attention. Gennie shrank back from the window and peered around the heavy drapes as a cluster of guests emerged from the Vanowen home. Among them was the tall figure of Chandler Dodd. Clad in his usual top hat and ascot, he looked every bit the banker he was. As Papa reminded her often, a life spent as Chandler Dodd’s wife would be most comfortable.

Gennie sighed. Chandler was not an unpleasant sort. Far from it. He could even make her laugh if he put his mind to the task. But a husband?
She hadn’t decided what that would be like, although if Papa insisted, she’d do as he said.

Still, she’d wondered on more than one occasion whether Chandler would prefer a brownstone over a home in the country, what opinion he held of dime novels, and what he might think of a wife who wanted nothing more than a honeymoon in Deadwood or Denver instead of Rome or Athens.

One of her father’s footmen dodged buggies and people to cross the street just as Chandler ducked into his carriage. Knowing the banker’s first inclination would be to look up at the spot where Gennie now stood, she let the drape fall into place and turned her back on the window.

Thus far, she’d managed to escape any sort of private audience with Chandler, keeping their meetings to public gatherings. Soon enough he’d come calling; today, however, was not the day for it. Not when her mind was occupied with thoughts of her month ahead in Boston. Papa’s Boston family was nice enough, but a month spent with them was a bit long, especially when she’d lack the comfort of escaping with Mama when discussions of politics became too tedious.

Still, it would be better than a month spent alone in Manhattan, although if she had a choice, she’d prefer to be headed west for adventure.

Fiona, who had set out the breakfast and poured the coffee, waited with a linen napkin in her hand. Obliging her, Gennie sat and accepted the napkin. Fiona lifted the silver cover and revealed enough scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast to feed three hungry men.

“You’ve been a bit generous with the portions,” Gennie said. “Perhaps when I return from Boston we might sit down together and discuss my preferences.” She paused to stab at the eggs. “Has Simmons given you my schedule?”

The maid pulled a piece of paper from her apron pocket and unfolded it. “You’re to be delivered to the train station at half past eleven this morning, and Simmons will send a man to retrieve you on August 7 at exactly three in the afternoon. Any correspondence you receive is to be bundled weekly and delivered to you in care of the Eddington Cooper family, Lake Street, Boston.”

Gennie scooped up a slice of bacon and situated it across her toast, then indicated for Fiona to sit. “Correct.” A thought occurred to her. “What will you do while I’m gone? Mary used to take the month to visit family along with me. She was from Boston.”

Fiona shrugged as she perched on the edge of the settee. “After I accompany you to Boston, I’m to come back here and busy myself about the house until you return.”

Gennie set the napkin atop her plate as an idea formed. “You know, Fiona, I believe I’ll make this trip on my own.” She met the maid’s gaze. “Have you ever had an adventure?”

“An adventure?” Fiona seemed to consider the question a moment. “No, I don’t suppose I have. I’m not nearly as brave as my sister.”

“Tell me about your sister,” Gennie said.

“My sister?” Fiona’s eyes widened. “Oh, miss, she’s the bravest thing you’d ever want to know, that one. I shall miss her terribly.” She hung her head. “ ’Tis a pity.”

“A pity?” Gennie took a sip of coffee. “Whatever do you mean?”

“We have a cousin, Katie, who’s a governess. Well, she
was
a governess until she agreed to marry Angus. But she couldn’t just run off and leave the girl without guidance, what with the men she lived with, so a promise was made. Either my sister or I would go and take her place so she could marry Angus. I couldn’t imagine it, being so far away, but my sister, she’s the brave one. Then she met a young man too. Now she’s
leaving him to go out and take care of Charlotte.” Fiona shrugged. “There’s nothing to be done about it, really.”

Gennie shook her head. “Fiona, I’m confused. Start over. Something about your sister Charlotte, a girl named Katie, and her fellow Angus.”

“No, miss. My cousin Katie married Angus last month. When she left her job caring for Charlotte, she promised Mr. Beck—that’s Charlotte’s father—she would send someone to replace her. My sister leaves on the afternoon train.”

“Ah, so your sister’s going on an adventure. How exciting.”

Fiona shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. My sister’s met someone. In order to keep her promise to Katie, she has to leave behind the man she loves.”

“And he can’t go with her?”

“No, miss. He can’t leave so soon. If only someone could mind the child until my sister and he are wed. It would only be a few weeks, a month perhaps.” She met Gennie’s gaze as if asking for a solution.

Gennie was the last person from whom a solution could be received. She had her own dilemma: a need for an adventure of her own, a Mae Winslow–sized adventure. But would she be brave enough to grasp the chance if it were presented to her?

If You bring the opportunity, Lord
, she vowed.

“I see.” Gennie toyed with the gilt edge of the saucer. “And you are not up to taking that trip?”

Again Fiona’s eyes told the story. “I’m…afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Well, it’s far. Very far. And me, I’ve never even been to New Jersey.”

Gennie moved the tray aside. “Where is this awful place? Shanghai? Siam?”

“No, miss.” Fiona shuddered. “Denver.”

“Denver, Colorado?” When Fiona nodded, Gennie rose and sucked in a quick breath.
If You bring the opportunity, I will go.
Had her prayers been answered so soon? “Tell me again why your sister isn’t keen on this opportunity. Is this child naughty?”

Fiona jumped to her feet. “Oh, no, she’s a sweet one, so I’ve been told, though I understand she can be quite the challenge. My cousin cried when she left the family. That’s why she was so particular about sending for one of us to take her place.”

“I see.” A plan began to hatch and with it came more pacing. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to think carefully before you answer. If your sister were offered the chance, would she give her ticket to someone else?”

A puzzled look crossed Fiona’s face. “You mean would she sell her ticket? I don’t think so. But if there was someone suitable to take her place as governess to that little girl, well, I think she’d be glad to hand her ticket over.” She paused. “Begging your pardon, miss, but I feel I ought to remind you that you’ve got a train to catch shortly.”

“Yes,” Gennie said slowly, “but first, I need to write a letter to my Boston cousins.”

“A letter to your cousins?” Fiona shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Gennie kicked a pillow out of the way and settled at the writing table. “You’ll understand soon enough. Grab your coat, Fiona, and tell Simmons to send the carriage around. This will only take a moment.”

Dire circumstances seemed the order of the day for Mae Winslow, and yet never had she failed to have a plan. To panic would mean certain death, so Mae lifted the delicate lace handkerchief to her nose and raised her eyes heavenward. Her prayers completed, she sprang into action.

Through the haze of smoke, Mae found her boots and then her hat. What remained was to see whether the carefully devised scheme would actually work.

“Oh, miss, this will never work.”

Gennie shook her head and pressed a gloved finger against her lips. “Quiet now, Fiona. We don’t want our plan to be discovered until…” She paused to wait for the front doors of the house to close behind them. A fresh north wind whipped down Fifth Avenue and chased up her spine. “In order for this to work, we’ve got to stick to the plan.”