Page 4 of The Gilded Heiress

Josie

The last notes floated away on the breeze and the crowd broke out into applause. I smiled and closed my eyes, soaking in the

approval like a patch of dry grass in the rain.

I couldn’t get enough.

Singing was my obsession, but it was about more than earning money. It was how I expressed what I was feeling. There was too

much happening inside my head and I didn’t know any other way to get it out than through song. I would die if I couldn’t sing.

It was also my only talent, the single thing I could do to make me stand out in this dashed world. I planned to use it to

my advantage, just as soon as I figured out how.

The applause died down and I thanked the crowd. As the people wandered away I gathered my things. It had been a good day thus

far. Soon Pip and I would be able to afford a better neighborhood. Pippa Devlin, my closest friend and roommate, grew up with

me at the Boston Children’s Asylum, and she worked as a barmaid in the saloon where I sometimes performed. We didn’t have

it easy, but we were used to hardship, thanks to our upbringing at the asylum.

I capped the jar, sealing all that beautiful money in tight. Thieves and miscreants were everywhere in this city, and I couldn’t

risk having my earnings stolen. I slipped the jar into my carpetbag and hefted it over my shoulder.

“Miss!”

Walking quickly, I ignored the deep voice. It wasn’t uncommon for a man to approach me after a performance. Some assumed I did more than sing on the street for money, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I had no time for men in any capacity. I was going to be famous and everyone knew that women in love made terrible decisions,

always putting themselves second. Well, I would never do that. My career came first.

He shouted again, closer this time, and I sighed. There would be no outrunning him, so I slowly turned. A man hurried toward

me, his lithe frame clad in a smart dark suit. A derby covered oiled chestnut-colored hair, and startling blue eyes peeked

out from under the brim of his hat. His wide smile showed off even white teeth, and I blinked. Most people undoubtedly found

his handsome demeanor reassuring, but I was instantly on edge. What did a man who looked like this—and dressed like this—want

with me?

Nothing good. That was what.

Folding my hands, I waited. “Yeah?”

He tipped his hat. “That was quite a rousing performance, miss. Your voice is magnificent.”

“Thanks.”

I spun and started to hurry away, but he suddenly appeared before me, blocking my path. “I was here the day before yesterday

to watch you. Maybe you remember me?”

Was he serious? There were far too many people in the square to remember one, even if he was such a handsome specimen. “Nope,

I don’t.”

I tried to edge around him, but he wouldn’t budge. “Wait, don’t rush off. Perhaps I could buy you an ice cream. There’s a

saloon around the corner.”

Ice cream? That was a new one. “No thanks. I need to be on my way.” When I tried to leave, he danced ahead of me again. Huffing,

I said, “You better move, mister, or I’m punching you.”

“Wait. Don’t hit me. The name’s Leo. Leo Hardy.”

He waited for me to introduce myself, but I didn’t bother. “As I said, you’d better move, Mr. Hardy.”

He put up his palms. “I’m not a masher, I swear it.”

“Exactly what a masher would say. Now, move.”

A chuckle emerged as he grinned at me. Sakes alive, he was pretty. Heat bloomed in the pit of my stomach, but I shoved the

unwanted feeling away. This was hardly the time to start swooning after a handsome face.

“I admire your spirit, miss,” he said. “A young woman can never be too cautious in this city. But I merely wish to speak with

you regarding your singing career.”

Now that got my attention. “What about it?”

“No can do. I never discuss business on the street. It’s ice cream or bust, Miss...?”

“Smith.”

The little lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled down at me. “Miss Smith. What do you say?”

Was I honestly considering this? I was hungry and he looked like he could afford a treat or two. Was there harm in hearing

what he had to say while I ate, then set about my business? “All right, but just ice cream.”

Relief coasted over his features. “Excellent. This way.”

We walked side by side toward the far end of the square. I held tight to my carpetbag, using it as a buffer between us. It

could also be used as a weapon, if necessary.

“How long have you been singing?” he asked.

“As far back as I can remember. The director of the place where I grew up always encouraged it.”

“And where was that?”

“The Boston Children’s Asylum.” I wasn’t ashamed of my upbringing. Most of the nuns at the asylum had been kind to me, and

I came to love many of the girls there. I hardly ever wondered about my real family anymore. “What about you? Where did you

grow up?”

“Not far from you, actually. Tremont Street. I live there with my mom and five sisters.”

A thin thread of jealousy twisted around my heart. “Must be nice to have such a big family.”

“I suppose. It can be overwhelming, too.”

We dodged a few carriages and carts to cross the busy street. “Overwhelming, how?” I asked.

“Our father died a long time ago and it’s been my responsibility to care for the family ever since.”

“The man of the house. That must be tough. How old were you when your father died?”

“Fifteen.”

At that age I’d already accepted that I wouldn’t have a family. Most girls were adopted by age nine or ten, so my eleventh,

twelfth, and thirteenth birthdays had been sad ones. Then Pip and I made a pact to stick together, no matter what. We’d never

let anyone come between us, and we’d travel the world together when I became famous.

I dodged a pack of boys playing hoops and sticks on the walk, then came back to Leo’s side. “You don’t talk like you grew

up on Tremont Street. And you dress like you’re from Beacon Hill.”

“I confess to a sartorial fixation. As for my speech, I strove to purge the Boston from my voice.”

“Why?”

“Because it seemed judicious to blend in, not stick out.”

Hmm. That made sense, I supposed, but everyone I knew talked like I did. Instead, Leo used fancy words and proper pronunciation,

like a politician.

Leo opened the door to the ice cream parlor and I stepped inside. I’d walked by this place before, but never entered. Pip

and I bought our ices from a cart on the street when we had money to spare. Which was almost never. Ice cream saloons were

for wealthy folks.

So I took my time looking around. The walls were painted in bright yellows and blues, with small round tables and iron chairs spread along the tile floor.

Jars and containers lined the marble counter, each filled with various colorful sweets.

It was as if happiness had exploded over every inch of this place.

“Over here,” Leo called, gesturing to an empty table.

He held out a chair and I sat, careful to place my carpetbag on the floor beneath my feet. I arranged my skirts to hide it,

then lifted a menu. I pretended to study it while actually looking at Leo instead. He seemed to be a few years older than

me, so perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven. Clean-shaven, no scars. His clothing was pristine, with a white collar and gold

studs. A sapphire winked out from his tie, a watch chain dangling from his vest.

“Do I pass inspection?” he asked, not looking up from his menu.

I could feel my cheeks heating. “You’re quite handsome, which I’m sure you must know.”

The edge of his mouth kicked up. “Still is nice to hear, especially from a striking young woman.”

“No need to flatter me. I’ve got no interest in you that way.”

“And what way is that?”

“Like a man.” I peered at him closely, not bothering to hide my inspection this time. “Are you rich?”

His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, his expression considering. “Are you a woman who says whatever pops into her

mind?”

Unfortunately, yes. Though god knew the nuns at the asylum did their best to curb my runaway mouth.

Ladies do not interrupt when a person is speaking, Josie.

Ladies do not argue, Josie.

Ladies should never discuss matters of which they have no knowledge, Josie.

Except I couldn’t seem to stop from blurting out the thoughts in my head. “Are you one of those gents who thinks women should

be seen and not heard?”

“Are you one to always answer a question with another question?”

“Yes, when you never answer mine.”

“No, I’m not rich.”

“Good.”

That got his attention. He frowned at me from over his menu. “Why is that good?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Because I trust rich men even less than poor men.”

Thankfully, the waiter arrived at that moment and took our order. I hadn’t looked much at the menu, so I ordered a vanilla

ice cream. Leo ordered strawberry.

“Vanilla?” he asked when we were alone.

“Why not vanilla?”

“I mean no offense, but there was a whole list of flavors from which to choose. Yet you selected the safest one.”

I didn’t know anything about ice cream or the flavors. But I disliked someone making me feel stupid for it even more. I went

on the attack. “Maybe I like vanilla and don’t care what anyone else thinks about it.”

“Fair enough, miss, but maybe you should think bigger.”

“Bigger than vanilla? What does that mean?”

“I meant your voice.” He leaned back and settled in his chair. The full weight of his stare, sharp and bright, rested on my

face. “Have you given thought as to what you’d like to do with your ability?”

That was easy. “Become famous and travel the world.”

He nodded as if he liked my answer. “A fine aim, yet how do you plan to accomplish such a feat?”

I pointed to the street beyond the window. “By singing.”

“And? Anything else?”

The back of my neck prickled. He was trying to make me feel small and stupid again. Like the nuns at the asylum when I spoke

out of turn. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. I don’t like guessing games.”

He put up his hands. “Fair enough. I’m offering to assist you in becoming a famous singer.”