Chapter 2

two

A lexander Bostwick lingered on the steps, drumming his fingertips against the glossy, varnished railing as he surveyed the crowded lobby below. Waiting for his sister, he was more restless than impatient, but Daisy had encountered a friend on their way downstairs and girlish chatter ensued, prompting him to continue on his own. Perhaps he should have waited. Pausing there, where everyone could see him, evoked a sensation he’d only recently become familiar with—vulnerability.

It was early in the summer season with new guests arriving at the Imperial every moment. The lobby hummed with the sounds of rustling silks, porters jostling steamer trunks, and the familiar refrain of society’s elite greeting their peers, as if they were allies rather than adversaries. Today, however, the pomp and pageantry of this privileged parade left Alex unimpressed. Especially since it was this very element of society he’d been trying to escape.

There they all were, though, milling about and smiling inscrutably as if their lives were entirely free from peccadillos and impropriety. Alex knew better. From this vantage point on the stairs, he could see at least a dozen unfaithful husbands, a few unfaithful wives, a suspected embezzler, a railroad titan about to go bankrupt, a politician on the take, and an octogenarian real estate tycoon whose new bride had once been a woman of ill repute. Certainly, half the men in this room knew her as a sought-after dove from one of Chicago’s finer brothels—but of course none could reveal how they knew.

It was against this facade of refinement and respectability that the Bostwick family—Alex in particular—found themselves embroiled in the scandal de jour. Actually, there were two concurrent scandals. One which his father had vehemently denied, and another which Alex was refusing to discuss. He saw no point in trying to explain anything to people who had no interest in the truth, just as he knew that if he could be patient and silent on the matter, the gossipmongers would eventually seek another source for their juicy morsels.

In the meantime, he intended to keep his head down, mind his manners, and live a life above reproach. For the next few months, as his relatives and rivals enjoyed the lazy days of summer at this resplendent resort, Alex would mingle with the matriarchs, dally with the doyennes, and mollycoddle the moguls in the hopes that a bit of well-timed sycophancy might save his family from further salacious brouhaha.

And as for the pretty debutantes who swished and swayed and seemed to outnumber the other groups by double? Well, he’d steer well clear of them. That shouldn’t prove too difficult a task since—in the brief span of the past five months—he had married and buried a bride. Given his current status as both newlywed and widower, the debs were likely to steer clear of him.

Cutting short a sigh, Alex cast another glance at the staircase. Still no sign of Daisy. If she didn’t hurry, he’d be left to greet the Hart family on his own. He was loath to do so since the missive from Morty VonMeisterburger had contained rather vague instructions. It simply read,

“My cousins arrive at the hotel on Tuesday, but as you know, I am currently on my honeymoon and won’t be visiting the island this summer. In my absence, I do hope your family might aid Gertrude, Lucretia, and Cordelia in acclimating to the ambiance of the hotel. Asher and Prudence are youngsters. They’ll be fine, but perhaps you might rescue the older girls from my mother.”

Alex’s mood lightened slightly as he chuckled at the thought of Morty’s mother.

Breezy VonMeisterburger was indeed the type one needed rescuing from. Brash and overbearing, she’d clawed her way to the pinnacle of Chicago society and presided over it like a dragon guarding loot—although Alex’s mother might argue that she was herself the queen of their coterie. Loyalty dictated he support Constance Bostwick’s ambitions, but truth be told, his money was always on Breezy whose shamelessly overt pursuit of power was positively Machiavellian.

That being the case, perhaps Morty’s instructions weren’t so curious after all. With names like Gertrude, Lucretia, and Cordelia, these poor relation cousins would surely need an ally when facing down the gauntlet of haughty condescension they’d receive from these hotel guests.

And how well Alex understood that!

He was, at this very moment, receiving pointed stares and dubious glances from his own peers down in the lobby— because his wife had died!

Nonetheless, the letter from Morty had been addressed to his sister Daisy and certainly she was the most logical one to assist the Hart sisters. Her reputation had, thus far, remained untainted by the Bostwick family’s recent missteps. Perhaps because she was only seventeen, or perhaps because she was young and pretty. But the most likely reason was that Daisy was so effervescently charming even the hardest of hearts seemed disinclined to judge her for their father’s ignominy or the calamitous misfortune of Alex’s brief marriage.

Five more moments passed and Alex was on the verge of going back upstairs to remind his sister of their purpose when Breezy VonMeisterburger’s august tone sluiced through the lobby’s din like a foghorn, prompting bystanders to clear a pathway as she glided toward the registration desk, a dozen peacock feathers rising nearly a foot above her cumbersome hat.

It was a wonder none of them curtsied, he thought, as she sailed to the front of the line, pretending not to notice there were others waiting to register. Of course, no one dared to suggest she wait her turn. By silent yet mutual agreement, they let the old battleaxe have her way since arguing with the woman was a pointless endeavor. If Alex had learned anything at all from his mother, it was that Breezy VonMeisterburger must be handled at all times, but never confronted.

Traveling slowly behind her was a cluster of young ladies—surely the Hart sisters, and Alex chuckled again at fate’s fickle nature, and his own faulty assumptions. Based on their social standing and rather frumpish names, he’d expected mousy, bespectacled girls hunched at the shoulders from too much reading, or perhaps stout farming stock with serviceable dun-colored dresses and hands made for digging potatoes.

The Hart sisters were not that.

Nothing like that.

In fact, they appeared quite lovely. They moved gracefully behind their aunt, whispering to one another while attempting to be discreet in their wide-eyed wonder at the hotel’s opulent decor. Dressed in various pastel hues, they reminded him of an unpretentious springtime bouquet, and he could not spot a plain or awkward female in the bunch, although he was admittedly standing some distance away. Perhaps up close they’d be pocked or toothy, but from here they looked quite appealing. Judging from the murmurs and side-eyed glances from the other guests, Alex wasn’t the only one who thought so. Perhaps these sisters would not need Daisy’s guidance after all.

Loping in a few feet behind the young ladies was a coltish boy with a gangly frame and an abject lack of discretion. Alex smiled as the boy turned a full circle, grinning broadly and exclaiming something that made the tallest of his sisters turn around to shush him. And finally, trailing behind him, mimicking her brother’s actions, was surely the youngest of the Hart clan. A little blonde girl who spun more slowly than the boy and held a wicker basket close to her chest.

Alex lost sight of the little girl as the crowd shifted, until she came into his view again a few short minutes later. She’d walked away from the rest, sitting down on a tufted footstool and placing the basket in her lap. He watched, intrigued as she carefully lifted the lid to peek inside. But the basket wobbled, falling to the floor, and the next thing Alex saw was a black and white cat determined to gain its freedom. It leapt from the tiny wicker prison and dashed away as if the very hounds of hell were on its heels, around a chair, under a table, over a table, up the stairs, and right past Alex.

No one else seemed aware of what had just occurred. Only Alex and the girl, who now stared up at him, brown eyes wide with surprise and dismay. She paused for only a second, then ran after the freed feline, climbing the steps two at a time, until she was nearly to Alex, and it occurred to him that this was a damsel he could aid, perhaps earning himself some much-needed goodwill.

You know his wife died under very suspicious circumstances…

Yes, but he did save that cat…

“Would you like some help?” he asked as the girl sprinted by.

“Yes, please,” she called out.

And off they went on their own sort of parade.

The girl was fast, but she halted at the top of the staircase, uncertain which way to go. There were two long hallways leading in opposite directions, more steps around the corner leading up to the next floor, and a large seating area directly in front of them.

“I don’t see him,” she said quietly as Alex joined her. “Do you?”

“No. What’s his name?” Alex asked softly, as if the cat might hear and be on to them.

“Sir Chester VonWhiskerton.”

Her answer prompted a chuckle. He couldn’t help it, but he quickly schooled his expression.

“Does he come when he’s called?”

The girl had the temerity to give him a withering glance, as if the question were nonsensical.

“Of course not. He’s a cat,” she answered. And then she shushed him. “Shh. Do you hear that?”

She leaned forward, and Alex did the same, although he had no idea what he was listening for.

“I don’t hear anything,” he whispered.

“Neither do I,” she responded, standing up straight and making him smile again.

“Are you Prudence, by any chance?” he asked.

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She huffed, leaning forward again as if to better sense the cat’s whereabouts. “It’s my name but no one calls me that. I’m Poppy.”

“Ah, I see. I’m Alex.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said as if by rote, her eyes darting in each direction.

“Perhaps if you search that area right in front of us while I stand here, I can nab him if he runs out, or at least see which way he’s headed,” Alex suggested.

She nodded thoughtfully. “Good plan.”

Her endorsement was oddly gratifying. Perhaps because no one had commended one of his plans in a rather long time, but after a brief search bore no results, he began to suspect the errant feline had gone in another direction.

“Perhaps we should check these hallways,” he said, just as the girl called out, “Ah, I see him!”

She motioned for Alex to approach. “He’s on that ledge.”

Looking up, Alex saw the black and white cat perched far above his reach and who appeared to have no interest whatsoever in coming down. “How on earth did he get up there?” he asked.

“He’s a good jumper,” she answered with pride. “Plus, I suspect he’s the cause of that.”

Alex’s gaze followed the direction she pointed to see an armoire against one wall, on top of which were the remnants of a potted plant tipped over and spilling over the sides and onto the rug. Mr. Beeks was going to have a conniption fit, but at least they’d found the cat.

Retrieving him was another matter entirely.

After some conversation with the girl about the peculiar nature of felines and strategizing how they might best lure him within reach, it was agreed that the most logical course of action was to simply sit down on the floor near the entrance of the area and wait for Sir Chester VonWhiskerton to come down of his own accord.

“He likes to cuddle,” she said, plopping down and patting her legs. “So, our laps will be the bait. Do you have something tantalizing you might wiggle at him,” she added innocently.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, suppressing a smile and then suggested, “Perhaps my necktie? Or your hair ribbon?”

“Your necktie, I think.”

She was a decisive little miss, he noted as he sat down next to her. Removing his necktie, he handed it over and observed as she laid it out along the floor and shimmied it in varying patterns and speeds. The cat’s ears twitched with keen interest. Sir Chester was intrigued.

“If he ever comes down and gets close enough, we should quickly wrap him in your jacket,” she whispered a moment later.

“My jacket?”

“Yes, sometimes he scratches if he’s not in a mood to be carried. And he’s rather annoyed about being stuffed in the basket.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, all right.”

Alex shrugged out of his jacket wondering yet again where his sister was. He also wondered if this little imp’s family was growing concerned as to her whereabout. By all accounts, none of them had seen her chase after the naughty cat and rescuing him was turning out to be a lengthier and more complicated process than Alex had expected. They’d been away from the lobby for at least fifteen minutes.

“Does anyone know you’re upstairs?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Shh, he’s moving,” she whispered, ignoring his question because, sure enough, Chester VonWhiskerton was on the prowl. Poppy shifted onto her hands and knees, slowly drawing the necktie along the floor like a snake as her quarry jumped onto the top of the armoire, bumping the overturned plant again and sending more dirt onto the carpet. The mess was a small price to pay, in Alex’s opinion, if it meant catching this bandit.

Leaping silently onto a nearby sofa, the animal paused, staring with unblinking eyes as Alex moved onto his own knees, jacket clutched and at the ready. Patience had never been a virtue he’d possessed, and despite his father’s best attempts, Alex had never developed into a particularly good hunter. He preferred to enjoy the great outdoors without a rifle in his hand and grew too bored waiting for the quarry. He did, however, know enough about cats to realize any sudden movements could send the beast scuttling away.

And so, they crouched on all fours—the three of them—Alex, Poppy, and the cat, waiting to see who might make the next move. A grandfather clock chimed in the distance and the hum of guests in the lobby swelled and receded. Somewhere down the hall a door opened and closed. And still they crouched.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” Poppy murmured softly. Shimmy, shimmy, shimmy with the tie.

“What on earth are you doing?” Daisy whispered from behind him. “I’ve been look?—”

“Shh!” Alex and Poppy hushed in unison, and he pointed at the cat, who had finally jumped to the floor and was easing ever so slowly toward the necktie.

“Oh,” Daisy giggled softly, moving back into the hallway but peeking around the corner.

Alex’s knees were starting to ache from pressing against the wood floor, his shoulders were tight from the tension of it all, and his sister’s snickering from behind them was no doubt due to his undignified posture.

But at last! Chester VonWhiskerton made a leap for the tie, and Alex made a leap for the cat, throwing his jacket over the escapee and wrapping him up securely. He received a few well-timed swipes of sharp claws that left bloodied scratches along one hand, and his captive was now yowling like a banshee, but at least the beast was contained.

“Chester,” Poppy cooed, stroking the little bit of cat face Alex dared to expose. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

Her sweet, sweet boy was squirming like a crazed lunatic.

“I think we’d best go get that basket before he wiggles away from me,” Alex said, rising up clumsily from the floor. “And find your family. Speaking of family, this is my sister, Daisy,” he added as she came back around the corner.

“I had no idea you were so agile, brother,” she teased. “Perhaps you have a future in pest control.”

“Chester isn’t a pest,” Poppy said indignantly. “He’s mine, and he’s the best, cleverest cat that ever lived.”

“Of course he is,” Daisy agreed. “And handsome, too, from the little bit I saw of him. I like his tuxedo. He’s very dapper.”

“I know,” Poppy said primly.

“Daisy, this is Miss Poppy Hart,” Alex explained.

“Ah!” Daisy responded, clapping her hands together. “They’ve arrived then. And you’ve met them?”

“No, just this one.” His tone implied what a misadventure it had been thus far, as if that wasn’t patently obvious. “And I suspect her family may be looking for her since they did not see her come this way.”

“Well, my goodness, then! We’d best get downstairs to the lobby in that ca?—”

“Hello! Hello there, all of you! My niece, Poppy, and her cat are missing somewhere on the premises. I would like them found post-haste so please join in our search.”

Above the buzzy din of conversation from the lobby, Breezy’s strident bellow rang out loud and clear. Poppy jumped at the sound, her eyes widening as apprehension spread over her face.

“Aunt Breezy scares me,” she whispered, staring up at Alex.

“She scares everyone,” he responded solemnly. “But think of her like thunder. Noisy but harmless.”

“But thunder scares me, too,” Poppy argued.

“Now, now,” Daisy said, extending her arm. “Take my hand and we’ll face your aunt together. She’s not so very frightening. Just remember she was once a little girl, too, just like you.”

“I don’t believe it,” Poppy said emphatically. “Asher says she eats naughty children for breakfast, and she won’t be very pleased I let Chester get away. I wasn’t supposed to bring him. I snuck him onto the ship.”

“Asher is your brother, yes?” Daisy asked as they made their way down the stairs. At Poppy’s nod she added, “I’m sure he was teasing. Brothers love to tease their little sisters, isn’t that right, Alex?”

He’d fallen into step beside them with the yowling bundle still struggling to regain its freedom. “Indeed,” said Alex. “In fact, I often wish I had another sister so I’d have more to tease, but I must make do with only Daisy.”

It was a short way back down the stairs to the landing where Alex spotted the imposing Breezy VonMeisterburger and the tallest of the Hart sisters, a willowy brunette who turned at the sound of their approach. He nearly missed a step upon seeing her face. No pocks or toothiness there. She was beautiful with long-lashed eyes that shone with relief upon seeing her sister.

“Poppy!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her. “My goodness, where have you been?”

“Chester got away, and we were catching him.”

“We?” The sister looked up, taking in the sight of Daisy in her cheerful flowered frock, and Alex, who suddenly felt rather disheveled given that his necktie was currently lying on the floor somewhere, and his jacket was wadded up in his arms with a squirming cat inside.

“Alexander Bostwick, at your service,” he said, hoping to sound dignified despite his rumpled state.

Something flickered past her eyes. Not gratitude or appreciation for his efforts but rather something else entirely.

Disdain.

“And this is my sister, Daisy,” he added, hoping he was mistaken.

“Thank you,” Poppy’s sister said, but her earnest words and tremulous smile were directed at Daisy, leaving Alex to feel oddly dismissed. And almost… annoyed?

Daisy hadn’t done anything except leave him impatiently waiting and then show up as the escapade was nearly concluded. He was the one who’d rescued the feline fugitive. And the wandering little sister. Where was his smile? And his thank you? The absence of it stung.

He was being irrational, of course. So many prying eyes had been directed toward him lately it had made him belligerent. Plus, the scratches on his hands were beginning to sting and Chester VonWhiskerton, who showed no signs of fatigue, continued to wriggle. Alex was more than ready to be rid of him.

“My niece is found! Return to your gabbing,” Breezy called out to the lobby triggering a mild swell of approval from the guests. Then her imperious gaze landed on him.

“Thank you for your… assistance, Alexander,” she said coldly, “but perhaps we should remove ourselves from this staircase.”

The air squeezed from his lungs at the veiled reference, and the subtle cruelty of her words. Shame, unfounded and undeserved, washed over him. She was making an accusation though he was the only one to realize it.

“Poppy,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended. “I wonder if I might hand Chester back into your care and be on my way.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, “But don’t you want to meet my family? I’m sure the rest of them will be right along.”

“Another time.” He forced a smile as he passed the cat and coat to her. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though.”

“But your jacket,” she said.

“Return it at your convenience. Or give it to Daisy. She’ll get it back to me.”

Daisy gazed at him curiously. She’d missed Breezy’s discreet barb, but he’d heard it—and the malicious intent behind it. He knew he shouldn’t let the pointed jabs of that cantankerous old windbag affect him, but her insinuation wounded nonetheless, and suddenly the warm glow of helping a little girl went cold.

This single good deed was not enough to repair the damage he’d wrought.