At Your Request (Apart from the Crowd 0.5)(5)
“How lovely to meet you, Mr. Wanamaker,” Miss Cadwalader continued. “And since you and I have now been introduced—although not properly, I daresay—allow me to present Miss Permilia Griswold.”
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Griswold,” Edgar said as he sent a bow Miss Griswold’s way. “However, before more pleasantries can be exchanged, I have a matter of the utmost importance to attend to—that matter concerning the lady still trying to make what appears to be a less than stealthy attempt at escape.” He turned and set his sights on Wilhelmina once again.
Interestingly enough, while he’d been conversing with the ladies who’d evidently been tasked with hiding Wilhelmina from view—the evidence of that notion being that the two ladies had taken to mumbling apologies to her under their breaths—Wilhelmina had obviously been trying to slip farther under the chair. The result of that nasty business, however, had simply led to her now appearing to be well and truly stuck.
Pushing his way through the first row of chairs, he tilted his head and allowed himself the luxury of simply considering Wilhelmina for a long moment. The years they’d been apart hadn’t changed her appearance much, except that she was now a more mature lady—being almost twenty-five instead of the near infant she’d been at seventeen. Her brown hair was swept up in a simple style away from her face, and the hint of pink staining her cheeks lent her a charming air, one that suggested she was getting a bit flustered. That idea had his lips curving straight into a smile as he leaned down and caught her eye.
“Honestly, Willie, in all the years we’ve been apart, I never once considered the idea that when I finally returned to New York society, you’d go to such extremes to avoid me.”
Wilhelmina’s hazel eyes immediately took to flashing. “I don’t like it when you call me Willie. And who said I’m attempting to avoid you?”
The flashing, an immediate reminder of Wilhelmina’s adorable temper, had his smile turning into a grin. “Since these delightful young ladies were trying their very best to distract me from seeing you—and they were doing a remarkably credible job until I caught sight of the top of that chair you’re under moving—I don’t understand why you’re arguing with me.”
Wilhelmina released a dramatic sigh. “Oh, very well. You’re right. I was trying to avoid you.” She caught his eye, looked incredibly grumpy for all of five seconds, and then released another sigh before the makings of a grin spread over her face. “Since you’ve clearly caught me in my attempt to escape, and I’ve somehow managed to get stuck while in the process of that attempt, could I possibly persuade you to be a dear and help me out of this particular pickle I’ve landed myself in?”
The grin sent him directly back to his youth, where he’d witnessed that particular grin on an almost daily basis, at least during their carefree summer days. Wilhelmina had always been one to appreciate a good laugh or an amusing situation, and over the past few years, he’d almost managed to forget her appealing sense of humor.
He was fairly certain that the reason behind his forgetfulness had something to do with the fact that he’d been wallowing in a rather large vat of self-pity for years, or at least the first year or two after he’d left town.
That wallowing had been a direct result of Wilhelmina—the lady he’d assumed he’d spend the rest of his life with from the time he’d been about ten—turning down his earnest offer of marriage. That rejection had sent him reeling and caused him to try his very best to forget her over the ensuing years.
In hindsight, brought about by time and the wisdom that time brings a person, his offer of marriage to her had been beyond ill-advised and beyond ill-timed.
It was that very hindsight that had him entering New York society again, but only in order to seek Wilhelmina out and finally try to put matters right between them, something he had no idea if she’d even be willing to entertain, or—
“If we could accelerate this whole getting-me-unstuck business, Edgar, I would be forever grateful,” Wilhelmina suddenly said, pulling him straight back to the situation at hand. “Especially since we’re beginning to draw attention.”
Looking over his shoulder, he discovered that was, indeed, the case. Quite a few guests seemed to be edging their way. Turning back to Wilhelmina, he squatted down right next to her. “Do you think the fabric of your skirt snagged on a nail?”
“I’m afraid I’m no longer that type of stuck, Edgar. It’s more a case of my, um, parts, not exactly fitting in the small amount of space I tried to squish them into.”
It took everything in him to swallow the laugh he longed to release.
Wilhelmina had never been a lady possessed of a waifish figure—a situation that had bothered her no small amount, although he had always, especially as he’d gotten older, found her curves to be rather agreeable. He’d never mentioned that to her, of course. A circumstance he’d been thankful for after she’d broken his heart by rejecting him out of—
“And besides being firmly wedged between the legs of this chair, I think that, what with all the wiggling I’ve done since I got stuck, my bustle has now become firmly lodged against the seat.”
Having never been presented with this specific dilemma before, Edgar couldn’t help but feel a touch relieved when Miss Permilia Griswold stepped forward. Tapping her chin with a gloved finger—one that, curiously enough, seemed to be stained with a bit of ink—she tilted her head, then tilted it the other way, before she frowned.