“You’re obviously stuck to the couch, which certainly constitutes being in a pickle.”
“I suppose it does,” Gertrude admitted.
“How fortuitous,” Miss Flowerdew chirped before she began pacing back and forth in front of Gertrude, seemingly sizing up the situation. Stopping, she arched a delicate brow Gertrude’s way. “How did it happen?”
“I lost my balance trying to get a ... ah ... closer look at the painting hanging above this very couch. Then, to add insult to injury, my bustle broke, evidently from the force of my fall, and pieces of it pierced the couch. I don’t want to move because I’m afraid I’ll ruin the upholstery if I do.”
Tapping a toe against the floor, Miss Flowerdew looked from Gertrude to the painting hanging behind the couch, then back to Gertrude again right as her eyes widened. “Forgive me, Miss Cadwalader, but I must tell you that your current situation seems to be more ominous than curious. Why, the only reasonable explanation that springs to my mind to explain why you would have needed to peruse that painting so closely is that you’re a thief but got foiled in your attempt to steal that painting by gravity.”
“Good heavens, Miss Flowerdew, get ahold of yourself. That’s a completely ridiculous conclusion, especially since it would be next to impossible for anyone to make off undetected with a painting of that size.”
“So youwereconsidering the matter.”
Gertrude’s brows drew together. “No, I wasn’t, I was ... oh, never mind. Allow me to simply say that I’m not a thief, nor was I attempting a heist on Mr. Sinclair’s yacht.”
Ignoring everything she’d just said, Miss Flowerdew began pacing again, stopping a few seconds later to look Gertrude’s prone form up and down. “Do you have so much fabric making up your skirt because that’s where you stash your ill-gotten gains?”
“Of course not, especially since, again, I don’t spend my time as a thief but only as a companion to Mrs. Davenport. If you must know, she’s responsible for the gown I’m wearing, and she used extra yards of fabric because of the questionable bustle she designed for me.”
Miss Flowerdew released a sniff. “A ridiculous explanation if I ever heard one.”
“It may be ridiculous, but it’s true. And, it’s also an explanation I’ll be able to prove once I get unstuck from this couch. I’ll then be able to show you the bustle in question, and then you’ll be extending me an apology, one I richly deserve since you’ve now taken to questioning my integrity.”
Turning her back on Gertrude, Miss Flowerdew walked across the room and retook her seat. Considering Gertrude with narrowed eyes, she finally gave a short jerk of her head. “Very well, let me see this so-called questionable bustle.”
“I can’t very well show it to you since, if you’ve forgotten, I’m stuck. You’ll have to assist me with getting unstuck first, and then I can prove my innocence.”
Miss Flowerdew suddenly smiled. “Which brings us directly back to the beginning of our conversation, one that, ifyou’veforgotten, dealt with you being in my debt. I’m perfectly willing to assist you, however, itwillcome with a cost—that cost being your agreement to assistmein the foreseeable future with a little matter that’s very dear to me.” Her smile turned smug. “Since the question has arisen regarding your reason for being on the couch in the first place, a question that I’m sure you’re going to want to keep hush-hush, I suggest you agree to my terms.”
“That sounds a little like blackmail.”
Miss Flowerdew tapped a gloved finger against her chin. “It does at that, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not one to give in to demands, Miss Flowerdew, especially since I’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant a blackmail demand in the first place.”
Wrinkling her nose, Miss Flowerdew settled back into the chair. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too cheeky to fit the expectations of a wallflower?”
“Has anyone ever told you that there’s not actually a society known as the wallflowers—it’s simply a derogatory name for a group of lovely young ladies who aren’t considered as fashionable as society wants them to be?”
Miss Flowerdew completely neglected to respond to that, choosing to beam another bright smile Gertrude’s way instead. “My goodness but we do seem to have gotten distracted from the business at hand. And since we are missing out on the festivities that are occurring above board, allow me to redirect our conversation to the important matter I need to broach with you.”
Sitting forward in the chair, Miss Flowerdew suddenly looked far too earnest. “I’d like you to personally introduce me to the oh-so-delicious Mr. Harrison Sinclair, and then I want your promise that you’ll do whatever is in your power to convince him to offer me a proposal of the matrimonial type.”
Chapter
Two
For a brief second, Gertrude forgot she was attached to the fainting couch and tried to sit forward, stilling when another ominous rip met her efforts. Refusing a sigh, she quirked a single brow Miss Flowerdew’s way. “Forgive me, but why in the world would you think I have the type of influence with Mr. Sinclair that would allow me to sway him in the matter of marriage to you?”
Miss Flowerdew folded her hands primly in her lap. “Don’t be coy, Miss Cadwalader, it does not become you. Surely you must realize that talk is rampant throughout society regarding your recent association with Mr. Sinclair. In all honesty, talk of the two of you was heard in the very best salons all the way over in Paris last month.” She smiled. “The recent adventures you’ve evidently shared with the gentleman are common knowledge. And because of those adventures, and because you’ve been seen in Mr. Sinclair’s company quite often as of late, you’re the perfect person to convince Mr. Sinclair that I would make him a more than suitable wife.”
Gertrude blinked. “I’m currently the subject of the gossips within society?”
“Indeed, which is quite the boon for you if you ask me.” Miss Flowerdew’s smile widened. “Why, society is all agog over your association with such a dashing gentleman. But tell me, is it really true you were trundling around the city dyed an unusual shade of orange?”
Gertrude gave an airy wave of a hand. “While I know it must seem downright riveting that a person can become orange, it wasn’t nearly the intrigue society is apparently making it out to be. My companion, Mrs. Davenport, was curious about what would happen if she applied a certain stain to my skin, and unfortunately, instead of giving me a sun-kissed look, it turned me orange.”
Miss Flowerdew settled back into the chair. “Which is peculiar to be sure, but lends credence to the idea that you and Mr. Sinclair must enjoy a true friendship since he evidently wasn’t bothered by your condition and was perfectly willing to be seen out and about with you.”