Page 49 of The Gilded Heiress

“I’ll drop it— after I say one more thing. I know you hate to dwell on the past and prefer to keep moving forward. But Leo’s the opposite. He’s

been so mired in the past that he hasn’t had a chance to think about his future. Give him a chance to breathe. He might surprise

you.”

I didn’t want any more surprises when it came to Leo. I had my own life to worry about. “Let’s stop talking about Leo.”

“Not until you tell me about your night in bed.” She nudged my leg with her foot. “You, Josie Pendelton, skipped over far

too many details for my liking.”

The next morning, I arrived in the breakfast room. My father was alone at the table, reading a newspaper. Though he’d been

nothing but kind since we met, I still found him intimidating.

“Good morning,” I said on my way to the sideboard.

He looked up from his newspaper. “Good morning, Joséphine. I trust you slept well?”

I picked up a plate and contemplated the breakfast selection. Holy Christmas, these people ate well. I’d never seen so much

food for such a small number of folks. Today there were eggs, pancakes, muffins, breads, potatoes, and steak— steak! —all spread out on various platters.

The Pendeltons ignored more food in one meal than Pippa and I ate in a week.

When I sat down, my father examined me closely. “What is amiss? Your bedchamber? Your mattress? You would tell me if you didn’t like them, I trust. I’ll have the walls painted today, if you prefer a different color.”

“I’m fine, sir. I promise. All of this is taking some getting used to, is all.”

“That’s understandable.” He waved to a footman. “Please pour Miss Joséphine coffee, will you, Peter?”

“Please, it’s Josie, and I can pour my own coff—”

“Nonsense,” my father interrupted, motioning for the footman to continue. “That is Peter’s responsibility. Let him see to

your breakfast.”

I waited, useless, as Peter poured coffee for me. It was bizarre having staff around to do every little thing for you. No

more scrubbing my own clothes, running my own bathwater. No more fiddling with my hair or lacing my own corset. I didn’t even

need to pour my own coffee. Some of it was nice, but I wasn’t sure what to do with all this free time.

I started eating. Every bite was delicious, but I wasn’t hungry. This all felt horribly wrong .

“Joséphine.” My father set his knife and fork on his plate. “I realize this is an adjustment for you. But you may trust your

mother and me to guide you through it.”

Adjustment? That was an understatement.

“Guide her through what?” Mrs. Pendelton—my mother—entered the room and lowered herself into the seat opposite me. “Sit up

straight, Joséphine. Slouching will ruin your posture.”

I thought my posture was fine, but I pushed my shoulders back and tried to sit tall. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She waved Peter over to pour her coffee. “It is ‘I beg your pardon.’ And you may call me Mother.”

I wrinkled my nose. That felt strange, especially considering they kept calling me Joséphine instead of Josie, but I decided

to give in. “I beg your pardon, Mother.”

She gave me a brilliant smile—and I felt churlish for my un grateful thoughts. If it made my parents happy, then who cared what we called one another?

“An elocution instructor will come later today,” my mother said. “And we will begin finishing lessons this morning.”

Elocution and finishing lessons. For me? “I don’t understand. Why do I need those things?”

My parents exchanged a glance before my mother said, “As our daughter, you will interact with a different class of people

now. We want you to feel comfortable.”

Comfortable? Or were they worried the way I spoke and acted would embarrass them? “It feels a bit soon, doesn’t it?”

“Soon! Goodness, you have eighteen years to make up for.” My mother sipped her coffee, every movement delicate and graceful.

“Make up for?” I shook my head as if trying to clear it. “I don’t mean to argue, but I feel as if you’re saying there is something

wrong with me.”

“Of course there is nothing wrong with you,” my father said gently, while at the same time my mother said, “Just small improvements,

dear.”

“Improvements,” I said flatly. “Because I’m not good enough to be a Pendelton, is that it?”

My mother’s eyes rounded almost comically, while my father said, “That is enough, Joséphine.”

I rubbed my forehead. I should’ve stayed in bed. Was this what I wanted? Elocution lessons and lectures? I just wanted them

to love me and support me. Was that not what parents did?

“And while we are on the subject,” my mother said. “We must eliminate those crude words I heard you use when speaking with

your friend yesterday. They aren’t proper for a lady.”

Suddenly, memories of the nuns scolding me as a little girl resurfaced.

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

I hated it now as I’d hated it then.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a lady ,” I snapped before I could think better of it.

A shocked silence descended, the room frozen. No one moved, not even the footmen. My parents seemed both hurt and surprised,

and I suddenly felt like an ungrateful and spoiled child. After all they had endured, after everything that happened, now

I was refusing them?

“Oh god,” I rushed out. “I apologize. That was terrible of me. I-I’m not handling this well at all.” My throat tightened and

I could feel tears gathering.

“Perhaps we should discuss this later,” my father said to my mother. “After she’s had a bit more time.”

I stared at my fancy plate. This was everything I’d ever wanted for as long as I could remember. A loving family. Parents

and a nice home. So why wasn’t I happier?

Why was I longing for something simpler? Like when Leo and I shared breakfast in the tiny apartment. That had been familiar

and comfortable. A class of people I understood. What the Pendeltons had, this life of leisure and excess, was completely

foreign to me.

And I wanted them to love me as I was, not mold me into the daughter they thought they should have.

No matter how rich and famous you become, promise me you won’t ever change, Josie Smith.

I missed Leo.

It was difficult to reconcile not trusting a man, yet still missing him. But no one ever said emotions were simple, especially

when the heart was involved. And Leo had swindled my heart right out from under me when I wasn’t looking.

But these were my parents. Shouldn’t I try to please them? If I didn’t, would they kick me out? Decide I wasn’t worthy after

all? I wanted them to love me.

Swallowing my hurt feelings, I looked at my mother, who was stirring her coffee vigorously. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Of course I’ll be happy to have lessons. Might we also include singing lessons, though? I’d like to keep up my voice before Melvin finds me work.”

That didn’t appear to please either of my parents, if their pinched expressions were anything to go by. Before I could ask

what I’d said wrong, the butler appeared. “Mr. Pendelton, sir. A Mr. Ambrose Lee is here to see you. He claims he is expected.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Ambrose was here. To see my father?

It could only be about one thing: money.

I pushed away from the table, gaining my feet. “Sir, I’ll handle this. You needn’t bother yourself.”

“Nonsense.” My father was already out of his seat. “Finish your breakfast.”

My stomach squeezed around what little I’d eaten this morning. “He merely wants the reward money. You should refuse to see

him.”

“Joséphine,” my mother said gently as my father left the room. “Let your father deal with this man while you eat.” She rang

a bell on the table and the footmen reemerged. “There you are. May I have more coffee and a plate, please?”

As my mother was served, I tried to return my attention to my food. I couldn’t do it, though. Ambrose was somewhere in this

house, collecting a healthy check that rightfully didn’t belong to him.

It belonged to Leo.

I’m sorry I found you in that square and I’m sorry I ever lied to you. You deserved better.

So why was Ambrose here to collect the reward instead of the man who’d earned it?

I rose. “If you’ll excuse me, ma’am.”

“Dear, sit down. You’re worrying me. You’ve hardly eaten.”

I waved my hand. “Everything is fine. There’s no need to worry. I’ll be back before the eggs grow cold.”

I hurried from the dining room and practically ran down the corridor. My father’s office was near the main entrance on Fifth Avenue. He spent most of his time there, so I guessed this was where he would meet with Ambrose.

A sitting room adjoined the office, which should provide a prime location for eavesdropping. I held my skirts as best I could

to keep them from making noise and crept into the sitting room. The door into the office was closed, but I hadn’t let a closed

door stop me from listening in since I was a toddler. A girl desperate for news of adoption learned to get creative when it

came to sleuthing.

I located a glass, put the rim against the door, then placed my ear to the bottom. Nothing. Next I tried the walls, but it

was the same result. Damn this house’s quality construction.

Without the ability to listen in, I would need to catch Ambrose on his way out.

I edged into the entryway and slipped into the tiny coatroom directly across from the office. Almost immediately, a tall figure

blocked all the light, scaring me. I jumped and put a hand on my heart.

“Miss Joséphine,” the butler, Ronald, said. “May I help you?”

“I, um...” I glanced around. “I thought I would step out for a walk, but I couldn’t find my coat.”

His long face pulled into a frown. “As it is quite warm today, miss, might I suggest forgoing one?”

“Good idea.” As if I hadn’t been caught in a lie, I left the coatroom with my chin high. “I’ll only be out for a short while.”

“Wait. I’ll send a maid with you.”

“That isn’t necessary. I’ve been walking around by myself my whole life.”

“Miss, your mother and father have insisted. It would distress them greatly to know you were unaccompanied on the street.

Any number of things might happen.”

It was hard to fault my parents for worrying, even if it was unnecessary. I was once kidnapped from this very house. More than anything, though, I needed to get rid of Ronald. “Sure, that would be fine. I’ll wait here until someone is free.”

He nodded once and disappeared into the back part of the house. Just then, the office door opened. Ambrose, dressed in a brown

plaid suit, emerged and closed the door behind him. He was looking down, folding a long thin piece of paper in his hands.

A bank draft. Damn it.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed.

He glanced up and a slick smile stretched across his face. “Why, Miss Joséphine. You are looking delightful, if I might say.”

I pointed to the paper in his hands. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Don’t I? And here I thought I’d brought you to your mother, reunited you with your parents.”

“You did nothing of the sort. Leo found me, so he should get it.”

“Leo has relinquished any claim to this reward. And I told your father it was all my doing. So this reward, dear girl, is

all mine.”

“A liar and a thief, just like always.”

“You wound me, Miss Joséphine. And after all I’ve done for you.” He waved his hand around to indicate the house. “I should

think a little gratitude might be in order.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long damn time. You and Leo used me.”

“Indeed, now. That is a shame,” Ambrose said in his deep southern drawl as he tucked the check into the pocket of his coat.

“I suppose I’ll need to dry my tears with all this money.”

“I hope you choke on it instead.”

Chuckling, he shoved his hat onto his head, then tipped it in my direction. “Good day, miss.”