Page 1 of The Heiress Masquerade (Dollar Princess #2)
New York, July 1890
“Your plan won’t work, Mother,” Aimee Thornton-Jones declared over her shoulder, wincing as the modiste yanked the laces of her corset tightly together. “I have no intention of being the next Dollar Princess.”
“I never said that was my plan,” her mother Edith replied, leaning farther back against the lounge, her broken leg propped up on a footstool in front of her, the ruby red of her day dress draped gracefully across the hardened plaster, the rich color of the gown complementing the deep sable of her hair and the emerald of her eyes. Eyes that missed little but were now wide with innocence.
“You didn’t have to say it.” Another tug of the corset strings had Aimee twisting around to face the modiste, her patience wearing thin given she’d been standing here for nearly two hours. “That’s tight enough, Madame Rounel. I can barely breathe as it is.”
The modiste glared at her as she wrapped her tape measure around Aimee’s waist. “Monsieur Worth requires exact measurements before he can finalize your travel wardrobe.” She pulled the tape away from around Aimee’s waist, before jotting down some notes.
“I’m certain you have every measurement you need by now,” Aimee replied. “And if you don’t, then Monsieur Worth will have to make do.”
“Make do?” The modiste sounded scandalized.
“Madame, please forgive my daughter,” her mother said placatingly, dragging the modiste’s attention back over to her. “She’s obviously forgotten the great favor you and the House of Worth are providing us, having you come to New York for the final fitting instead of us traveling to Paris. And we are grateful for that.”
“You’re paying them a fortune for that, Mother,” Aimee said as she motioned for her maid to come over to assist dressing her, while happily ignoring the daggers in the modiste’s eyes as the lady began to pack her tools.
“A fortune that’s entirely justified given the caliber of the dresses from the House of Worth,” her mother replied, her glare mirroring that of the modiste’s, before she returned her attention back to the French woman. “Will the measurements you’ve taken be enough? Her outfits must outshine all others and scream perfection.”
“Don’t you mean scream one million dollars?” Aimee asked as her maid began to button the back of her sapphire-blue gown. “Isn’t that how one attracts a lord to trade in one’s inheritance for a title?”
“Really, Aimee, must you always be so dramatic? Or perhaps crass is a better word for it,” her mother said with an arch of her eyebrow.
“The truth is neither dramatic nor crass,” she replied as her maid finished dressing her.
Her mother shook her head before turning to the modiste. “Madame, will all be good?”
The modiste raised her chin and haughtily nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Thornton-Jones. I will send a telegram to Paris today and they will finish your daughter’s wardrobe in the next week, then deliver everything to London as arranged.”
“Wonderful.” Her mother smiled. “As usual, our thanks to you and the House of Worth.”
The modiste nodded to them both before turning on her heel and striding from the room.
“Honestly, Aimee, did you have to be so rude?” Her mother glanced back to Aimee as the echo of the modiste’s footsteps disappeared down the hall.
“I thought I was rather restrained.”
“Your idea of restraint is different from my own.” Her mother shook her head.
“As is your idea about this trip compared to my own,” Aimee said. “Because I have no intention of marrying a titled gentleman.”
“Oh goodness. This trip is for you to have a London season and be exposed to English Society. It isn’t about you marrying a titled gentleman.”
“It feels like it is.”
“Well, it isn’t,” her mother said in exasperation. “However, if you happen to fall in love and become engaged while there, I wouldn’t complain.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t, because then you’d finally be invited to the Astor ball.” Aimee walked over and sat on the chair next to her.
“That would be a bonus,” her mother said frankly, with a dainty shrug of her shoulders.
“A bonus for you, not me. I can’t believe you want me to marry a title, rather than marry for love as you and Father did.” Not that she planned to ever fall in love, but her mother didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, darling, of course, I want you to marry for love.” Her mother reached over and patted Aimee’s hand. “It’s your happiness I desire above everything, and I have no intention of sacrificing my only child into a loveless marriage halfway across the world so I can join Mrs. Astor’s inner circle.”
The expression on her mother’s face was fierce and Aimee knew she was telling the truth, even though her mother had been obsessed with being invited into Mrs. Astor’s circle for as long as she could remember. “Then why are you still insisting I go to England when I don’t want to?”
“Call it a mother’s intuition.” She squeezed Aimee’s fingers lightly. “Because even though I can’t accompany you anymore, I have a feeling your destiny is awaiting you there.”
“I just told you I have no intention of marrying.” Aimee shook her hand free. It was one of the only things she truly had control over. The rest of her life was regimented by her mother, a social routine consisting of ball after ball, the opera, the theater, and any other acceptable event deemed appropriate for an heiress. It was suffocating.
“Once you fall in love, you’ll change your mind. You haven’t met the right man yet. There are many eligible English lords all eager to marry, and one just might be perfect for you.”
“I think you’re confusing the term eligible for destitute . Lords are only eager to marry an heiress so they can fill up their depleted estate coffers, which I have no intention of helping them do.”
When her mother had first told her of the trip, which was, coincidentally, after Aimee had rejected a fourth marriage proposal from a young man whose mother was best friends with Mrs. Astor, Aimee had known immediately what her mother’s plan was—an attempt to ship her across the Atlantic for six weeks to attract the attention of some lord and become the next Dollar Princess to marry into the English aristocracy, thereby securing their social position in Society. After all, no one, not even Mrs. Astor herself, would dare not to invite the mother-in-law of a lord to her ball.
“We shall have to agree to disagree on the merits of the trip, a trip you will be going on despite your protestations otherwise,” her mother replied, the militant expression Aimee had inherited shining upon her face. “You know I’ve already arranged everything with the Countess of Brexton, who has kindly agreed to take my place as your host and chaperone for the trip.”
“I’ve never even met the countess.” Perhaps a change of strategy was warranted. Giving up was not in Aimee’s nature, even if she was starting to feel it was futile to convince her mother of the pointless nature of the trip. “Surely, she’d understand if we cancelled given your accident. I can’t travel to England on my own, now can I?”
“I would never allow that. After all, a woman’s reputation is one of her most important assets, especially for someone in your position.”
“You’ve made other arrangements, haven’t you?” The thought was depressing.
Her mother smiled and Aimee knew then none of her arguments would sway her. Her mother had a plan and wouldn’t be deterred. Aimee should have known, because when did her mother not have a plan?
“Of course I’ve made other arrangements, darling.”
Now it was Aimee who sighed. “You’re getting Evie to accompany me.” It was the only other possibility, given her father was far too busy running his empire to take her mother’s place on the trip.
“She’s proven herself a reliable and trustworthy companion to you these past six years.”
As much as Aimee loved her cousin and best friend, Evie, they were as different from each other as night was from day—and that was probably understating things. Well, at least understating their personality differences. Physically, everyone said they looked alike except for their hair. Evie’s was a honey blonde compared to Aimee’s sable black.
Evie was the sensible one, the responsible one. The completely proper and oh-so-very English one, given she’d grown up in London until she was sixteen. Aimee, on the other hand, was impulsive, determined, though some would say stubborn, and enthusiastic about wanting to experience all life had to offer—even if that was a rather difficult endeavor given her sex and the fact that her parents preferred she be wrapped in cotton wool, rather than let loose into the world.
Until now. The allure of Aimee potentially meeting an impoverished English gentleman, willing to trade his title for an inheritance, was proving enough of an enticement for her mother to relax her reins of control on Aimee’s social life.
“Evie will be the perfect companion for you on the voyage across to England in my place.” Her mother smiled serenely and Aimee felt the last vestiges of potentially getting out of the ordeal slip away like ether.
“She’s only a year older than me and unmarried,” Aimee couldn’t help but point out. “Do you think she’s a suitable companion for the voyage?”
Of course, Aimee knew Evie was suitable, but she started feeling the pull of desperation itching up her neck. The idea of being stuck in London for six weeks, with the only entertainment being attending dinner parties and ball after ball, was suffocating. At least here in New York she could finish her term at Eastman Business College, attending in secret of course. Only Evie knew she disguised herself as a young man and attended the college once per week. It was amazing what people expected to see if one disguised oneself. You could practically pretend you were anyone.
“Given her calm and sensible temperament,” her mother continued, “and the fact she’s been your companion for years now without incident, which is a feat given your own temperament, my dear, she’s the perfect companion for your trip.”
“At least she and I can be bored together.”
“Actually, your father’s arranged for something else for Evie.” Her mother sounded surprisingly hesitant.
“Something else?”
“She’s to undertake a six-week traineeship as a secretary at his London office, and while doing so, she’ll stay with the head secretary, Mrs. Holbrook.”
A pain ripped through her chest with the news. All Aimee had ever wanted to do since she was little was learn all she could of her father’s business, to one day fulfill her dream of taking over from him. A dream he’d constantly rebuffed, believing her place was in a ballroom, not a boardroom. And now Evie was getting to do a traineeship? Even though being a secretary was the last thing Evie would want.
“Evie will hate that. She doesn’t want to be a secretary. She loves history and rocks, not business and commerce.” Two subjects Aimee adored.
“You must understand, Aimee, you and Evie come from different worlds,” her mother said softly. “Evie knows she can’t be your companion forever and that when you eventually marry, she’ll need a profession to fall back on. Unlike you, my dear, she understands her situation in life.”
“Oh, I understand my situation.” Aimee jumped up and couldn’t help but stomp her foot, even though she felt like a two-year-old for doing so. “I’m expected to behave like a porcelain doll with no thought or ambitions at all! I am to marry instead of following my dreams to have a career and run Father’s companies.”
“You’re a woman, Aimee. As much as you might wish the world was different, it isn’t. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“I will never accept that!” Aimee picked up the silk skirt of her gown and strode over to the far window to look out onto the crisp green lawns at the back of their residence, a rarity in New York only afforded to the obscenely wealthy like her parents. “This is America. It is the land of dreams…or at least it’s meant to be, regardless of what you and Father have planned for me. I have no intention of living the life of a submissive society wife!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Aimee!” There was a hint of exasperation in her mother’s voice. “Neither your father nor I are under any illusion you could be submissive to anyone.”
“Which is why I’d be a terrible wife,” Aimee insisted, turning back around to face her. “I should be doing the traineeship, not Evie. You know I want to learn about Father’s businesses above anything, then eventually take over from him.”
“Society and women’s rights may have come a long way since the start of the century, but they haven’t gone that far.”
“Not yet, they haven’t. But they will. Providing we don’t accept those boundaries, and instead push them beyond what anyone thinks is possible.”
“I hope you’re right. But I fear Society will never be progressive enough to accept a woman at the helm of a multimillion-dollar company. We can’t even vote, Aimee. What hope then does a woman have of running a company?”
Ever since she was eight and visited her father at his offices, she’d been fascinated with his companies, constantly begging him to teach her all about them and how to run them, knowing in her heart she was destined to take over from him when he retired, even though she was a girl.
After all, she was his only child and should be his successor despite her gender, because if she didn’t take over from him, who would? Her father, however, didn’t share her ideas for her future, and continued to refuse her requests, instead believing she’d eventually marry and her husband would be the one to take over from him.
Not if she had anything to do with it.
“You’ve always been a dreamer who thinks anything is possible,” her mother continued, sounding equally proud and sad of that fact. “Just like your father.”
“Yes, but at least Father made his dreams a reality, whereas my dreams are being stifled. You know I’d be far better suited to the secretary traineeship than Evie would.”
“Darling, you’re the sole heiress to all of this.” Her mother waved her hand around the room filled with marble, gold, and priceless artifacts. “You can’t learn how to be a secretary. It wouldn’t be the done thing for someone in your position in Society.”
The unfairness of her world was bitter. “Why should we let Society dictate to us? We are wealthier than nearly all of them. Why should I have to bend to their dictates instead of following my dreams?”
“You know it doesn’t work that way.” Her mother held up her hand to forestall Aimee from interrupting. “Evie will need a profession to fall back on. She can’t stay your companion forever, and you know she faces challenges surrounding ever finding a suitable marriage given her birth status.”
“Just because she was born out of wedlock doesn’t make her destined to remain a spinster,” Aimee was quick to reply. “Evie would make someone a far better wife and mother than I ever would.”
Her cousin was kind and nurturing, and, yes, she was illegitimate, but that didn’t make her a leper, even if most of New York Society only accepted her within their realms because Evie was, despite her birth status, still Thomas Thornton-Jones’s niece. And no one dared upset Thomas Thornton-Jones.
“I still hope you will make a wonderful wife,” her mother replied. “Any man would be lucky to have Evie as a wife, but, unfortunately, Society is an unforgiving beast and no matter how unfair it may be, the sins of the parents follow the child. Which is why this trip will be an excellent opportunity for both of you.”
“An opportunity for both of us to be miserable!” Aimee flopped down onto the chaise longue and blew out a pent-up breath. What a waste of six weeks it would be, being forced into situations neither of them would enjoy. If only Aimee’s father had arranged for her to do the internship instead of Evie, then the trip would have been enjoyable.
The very thought gave seed to an idea…
An idea as outrageous as it was brilliant, as fraught with danger as it was with possibilities. But it was an idea that would solve all their problems in one fell swoop. They could secretly switch places with each other in London, with none the wiser…couldn’t they?
Suddenly, frustration was replaced with exhilaration. No one in London they’d be interacting with had met either of them before, so no one would know who they were, apart from what they were told. Evie was the same size and stature as Aimee, so they could easily wear the other’s clothes, and Aimee was confident she could mimic Evie’s English accent, given accents came easily to her, having learned to speak five other languages fluently.
If they did switch places, then Aimee could undertake Evie’s traineeship at her father’s London offices, learning all she could of his business. The idea filled her with even more excitement than the thrill she felt while secretly attending college to complete her business diploma. She’d finally get to learn all she could of her father’s company from the inside, instead of having to sneak into his study each night and read through his latest correspondence to stay abreast of his deals and negotiations.
That’s if she could get Evie to agree to the ruse…which might prove difficult, given Evie’s proclivity for always doing the right thing. But Aimee had convinced her to go along with various other plans in the past, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to convince her to go along with this plan, too.
She had to. There was no other option.