At Your Request (Apart from the Crowd 0.5)(7)
Miss Cadwalader turned rather pale. “You said scurry, but should I assume it was more of a skulk?”
“I suppose her attitude did have a touch of skulking mixed in with the scurrying,” Miss Griswold admitted.
Squaring her shoulders, Miss Cadwalader shook her head. “Honestly, one would think that Mrs. Davenport would have learned her lesson after the last time she went skulking about, but . . . apparently that is not the case.” She sent everyone a nod. “Please excuse me. I simply must go and have a little chat with my employer. I do hope no one will mind if I take the treats with me.” A bit of pink settled on her cheeks. “They may very well help me entice Mrs. Davenport from . . . Well, no need to get into that.” Turning on her heel, Miss Cadwalader hurried away, clutching the platter of treats close, as if she wanted to make certain no one would try to take them away from her.
“That was curious” was all Edgar could think to say when silence, except for all the screaming and shrieking still surrounding them, settled over their small group. Turning to Miss Griswold, the only person left to assist him, he gestured to Wilhelmina, who was still stuck underneath her chair. “I think our best plan of attack, Miss Griswold, would be for you to see if you can get that bustle unstuck. It would hardly be proper for me to attend to that particular task.”
“Too right you are, Mr. Wanamaker,” Miss Griswold replied before she dropped to her knees beside Wilhelmina. A moment later, after she’d taken to shoving a great deal of the material that made up Wilhelmina’s skirt out of the way, Miss Griswold stuck a hand under the chair and set about the tricky business of trying to get Wilhelmina free.
After a great deal of grunting, mutters, and even a yelp or three coming from Wilhelmina, Miss Griswold tipped up her head and caught his gaze.
“I do believe we’re almost there, Mr. Wanamaker,” Miss Griswold began. “All that’s left to do is for me to squeeze Miss Radcliff’s, ah . . . gown together—the part that covers her, ah, hips—as tightly as I can in an effort to make her smaller, and when I say ready, you’ll need to pull off the chair.”
Sending her a nod, even as he tried to hold back a smile over the whole hip-squeezing business, Miss Griswold turned back to Wilhelmina and then said, “Ready,” even as Wilhelmina let out another yelp.
Hoping for the best, he took hold of the chair and gave it a good yank, breathing a sigh of relief a second later when it popped free of Wilhelmina, leaving her still on the floor but without a chair attached to her.
Accepting the hand he offered her, Wilhelmina got to her feet and then took to shaking out the folds of her skirt while he helped Miss Griswold up from the floor as well. Beaming a smile his way, and then turning that smile on Miss Griswold, Wilhelmina inclined her head.
“Thank goodness the two of you were able to see me released. Truth be told, I was beginning to think I’d have to return home with a chair stuck to my behind.”
“Which would have been a very interesting sight to see,” Miss Griswold said. “However, now that we’ve gotten your dastardly situation under control, I’m afraid I must take my leave of your company as well. I completely forgot that my stepsister, Lucy, is supposed to participate in the quadrille planned for this evening. Since young ladies do seem to be climbing down from their chairs—apparently having come to the conclusion that they won’t be getting mauled by a rampaging mouse anytime soon—I’m sure the quadrille is about to begin.” She released a bit of a sigh. “Heaven forbid I’m not standing by my stepmother’s side when Lucy glides across the ballroom floor.” Giving Wilhelmina’s arm a squeeze, Miss Griswold sent Edgar a small curtsy and then breezed away.
“She’s an unusual lady, isn’t she?” he asked.
Wilhelmina pulled her attention away from Miss Griswold’s retreating back and settled it on him. “I think she’s delightful, but speaking of unusual—it’s rather unusual to discover you in New York, and at a ball, no less. I don’t recall seeing your name on the invitation list.”
“Mr. Asher Rutherford secured me a last-minute invitation directly from Mrs. Travers.”
“Was there a specific reason you had Mr. Rutherford do that?”
Edgar smiled. “Curiously enough, there was, and . . . that reason revolves around you and my need to speak with you about a matter of great urgency.”
Wilhelmina narrowed her eyes. “A matter of great urgency?”
“Indeed,” Edgar returned as he took a single step closer to her. “You see . . . I’ve decided that it’s time for me to consider the idea of marriage. But, before I proceed further with that decision, I feel it’s imperative that you and I settle matters between us once and for all.”
Chapter
Three
“You’re getting married?” Wilhelmina somehow managed to get past a throat that had, oddly enough, taken to constricting.
Edgar’s brows drew together. “That’s not what I said at all. I said I’d decided to get married, but that you and I needed to settle matters between us before I could pursue that decision.”
“Have you asked a lady to marry you?” she pressed.
“Why is it that I suddenly feel as if you and I are not sharing the same conversation?” Edgar took a firm grip of her arm and, without asking her permission, began escorting her across the floor at a remarkably fast clip.