Page 27 of The Devil and the Heiress
“We have scandalized him,” she whispered. There was laughter in her voice. Where he had expected to see censure in her face, she smiled at him. “I fear he believes me to be a fallen woman.”
“We have botched our first night out.”
“We have.” She gave him a grave nod before smiling again. “Luckily, we have several days yet to get it right.”
“Does this mean you plan to tell me where I am taking you?” Not that he meant for her to arrive there.
“Yes, tomorrow morning.”
Never had he smiled so much in one night. Life with Violet would not be dull.
Chapter 10
He found her weakness without even trying—a man whose confidence outweighed his arrogance was a dangerous creature indeed.
V. Lennox,An American and the London Season
NEW YORK CITY
LATER THAT NIGHT
Maxwell Crenshaw raised his glass in yet another toast to his sister August and her new husband, the Duke of Rothschild. Rothschild stood with his arm proudly around his bride’s waist. Any fool could see how happy the newlyweds were. Their obvious affection for each other had been on display in abundance on the ship. So much in abundance, in fact, that Max had encouraged a civil marriage ceremony as soon as possible after the three had arrived in New York. Not that the couple had needed to be persuaded. Max smiled, thankful that a situation that could have brought eternal unhappiness for his independent-minded sister had turned out in her favor.
The Crenshaw family home on Fifth Avenue was bustling with well-wishers. The three of them had arrived in New York only days ago and had put off organizing a smallgathering of family friends as long as possible. The newspapers had immediately run stories about the couple, citing Society sources who had made the crossing with them and could confirm the grand match. More stories had run about the quick marriage with speculation running rampant about the need for such haste. As a result, when the couple had reluctantly announced that they would host an evening of celebration for close family friends, the line of people hoping to get inside was endless.
Max glanced at the clock on the mantel. There were still hours yet until he could excuse himself to return to his own home in Gramercy. He had another full day of meetings planned for tomorrow at Crenshaw Iron Works where he was overseeing operations in his father’s absence. His unplanned trip to London to save August from this very same marriage had stalled many of his projects. But he wouldn’t abandon the couple to face the throngs of gawkers alone.
“I say, Maxwell, your parents knew what they were doing when they took the girls to London.” This came from Samuel Bridwell, industrialist and longtime friend of his father. Bridwell had married his daughter to the Duke of Hereford the year before, which, Max suspected, had precipitated his own parents’ marriage plans for August. From what August had revealed to Max, Camille’s marriage wasn’t a happy one.
Martin Van der Meer, another friend of his father’s, said, “I hear England will become a popular destination this year.” The older man raised his glass of champagne in a toast, smirked as if they shared some private conspiracy, and drained his drink.
Having just spent almost three weeks of his life trying to save his sisters from a fate similar to Bridwell’s daughter, Max found it impossible to humor them. “I’m afraid you could be right. What a tragedy.”
He took a swallow, the bubbles going flat on his tongue as he watched August smile adoringly at her new husband.As the wealthy and socially hungry gathered around the happy couple, he wondered how many young women would be sold for a title without regard for their well-being. The floodgates had been opened, and the parents would point to his sister’s happiness as reasonable justification for their own greed.
Bridwell arched a brow at him in consternation, and Van der Meer frowned, while his daughter Amelia gave Max a grin of approval. Young, unmarried, and with wealthy parents, her future would likely be in London whether she wanted it to be or not. “I, for one, don’t understand the fascination with nobility,” she said. “We have plenty of fine, upstanding bachelors here in New York.” For all her innocence, her gaze narrowed in on Max with single-minded purpose.
Max felt the proverbial noose of matrimony tighten around his neck with that look. Clearing his throat, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I must go see to my sister.” Without waiting for the group to reply, he tipped his head and made his way into the crowd. Amelia wasn’t the first to allude to his unmarried state tonight, and she wouldn’t be the last. But he wasn’t yet thirty and did not feel the need to settle down with the responsibility a wife and children would bring him. That would come soon enough.
A footman approached him when he was a few steps away from reaching August and Rothschild. “Excuse me, Mr. Crenshaw, a wire has come for you.” His face was tense, and he lowered his voice as he said, “From London, sir.”
“Is everything well?” On instinct, he distrusted all wires from London now. The last had been pleas from his sisters to come and save them from their parents’ treacherous arranged marriage plans, which had resulted in a mad dash across the Atlantic.
The man hesitated. “It seems urgent, sir.”
He nodded and followed the servant to a little-used study in the back of the house. A messenger waited for him with the small yellow missive.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes already scanning the words as the messenger left him alone. The dread in the pit of his stomach grew heavier with each word. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself.
Violet had run away, and no one knew where she was.
“What’s happened?” asked August as she hurried into the room, Rothschild behind her.
“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” he quipped.
“Telegrams from London at this hour are never good.”
Max sighed and held up the paper for her. “A telegram from Papa. Violet ran away. They found a note in her room that claimed she would not be pressed into a marriage she didn’t want. It gave no clue to her destination.”
