The numbness disappeared in a trice, replaced with annoyance when Walter’s gaze settled on a hulking brute of a man with dark red hair, who was standing far too close to Gwendolyn and smiling at her in a manner that suggested the man had taken note of her lovely appearance and was appreciating it to the fullest.
He shot a look to Gideon. “Who’s that gentleman with Gwendolyn?”
“Which one?” Gideon asked, squinting in Gwendolyn’s direction. “She’s got at least twelve gentlemen surrounding her.”
“The big one who’s looming over her.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that level of animosity in your voice before—which begs the question why you’re provoked by a particular gentleman talking to Gwendolyn, who, if you’ve forgotten, is a matchmaker. I’m relatively certain that’s an occupation that requires her to speak frequently with a variety of gentlemen.”
Frankly, Gideon’s question was deserving of further contemplation because it was quite unlike him to be perilously close to losing his temper. He prided himself on always maintaining his composure, but here he was, clenching his fists and contemplating planting those fists in the face of a man he’d never met before.
It was unquestionably an odd circumstance, just as it had been more than curious to find himself thinking about his matchmaker almost incessantly while he’d been in New York. Images of Gwendolyn had sprung to mind at the oddest of times, such as during a meeting with his banker, once when he’d been enjoying dinner with a business associate, and most concerningly of all, every night while he’d been trying to fall asleep.
It was a troubling circumstance to be sure, because his thoughts had never lingered on a lady, not even when he’d been courting Vivian. That his thoughts now seemed to be doing exactly that, and with a lady who’d given him no indication she found him at all appealing—in fact, he seemed to frequently irritate her—was bewildering to say the least.
“Given you something to ponder, have I?” Gideon asked, pulling Walter from thoughts that were definitely ponder worthy.
“Gwendolyn’s merely my matchmaker,” he finally said. “But because she’s holding the key to my future in her remarkably capable hands, I’m concerned to see her swarmed by so many gentlemen. It won’t serve me well if she finds her time divided between gentlemen who may very well be prevailing upon Mrs. Parker to take up their interest in the matrimonial department.”
An arch of a dark brow was Gideon’s first response to that. “Right. You just continue telling yourself that. But to answer your question about the large gentleman still speaking with the lady you’re claiming a bit too strenuously is merely your matchmaker—he’s Frank Lambert. He’s new money, first generation in fact, but he has an uncanny ability to uncover oil strikes and has amassed quite the fortune over the past ten years. I believe he’s well on his way to becoming one of the greatest industrialists in the country.”
Walter frowned. “If his fortune’s that new, I’m surprised McAllister invited him. Ward’s a stickler for the whole three-generational rule to become accepted into society.”
“I doubt McAllister has any intention of getting Mr. Lambert accepted into the inner circles. However, quite like he did with the Vanderbilts before Alva Vanderbilt stepped in and forced society to accept them, McAllister has a hard time resisting being surrounded by the wealthiest men in the country. Frank Lambert can certainly be considered one of those.”
“Someone needs to take this Frank aside and explain to him that a certain distance is expected to be maintained between a lady and gentleman,” Walter said, narrowing his eyes when he noticed Frank leaning closer to whisper in Gwendolyn’s ear. His eyes narrowed another fraction when Gwendolyn stopped smiling, quite as if she’d found whatever Frank had whispered troublesome. “That’s it. She needs my assistance.”
“She won’t appreciate your making a scene—words I never imagined I’d ever be saying to you. Besides, Gwendolyn strikes me as a lady capable of seeing after herself.”
“I’m feeling a distinct need to have a word with my matchmaker” was all Walter said to that, leaving Gideon behind as he strode into motion. He came to a stop, however, when he spotted Priscilla charging toward him, wearing a pink frock with a matching pink bow in her hair. Surprisingly enough, she was not screaming but smiling as she rushed his way. He leaned down and scooped her into his arms.
“Papa!” she exclaimed. “Why are you here?”
After giving Priscilla a kiss on the forehead, he smiled. “Mrs. Boyle told me all of you were attending this picnic. I wanted to see you, so here I am. But why are you here?”
“Miss Brinley gave us a task. She wanted to give us something to do to help us forget about the shark.”
“What?”
That was all it took for Priscilla to launch into every detail of her morning, telling him in words that rushed out of her mouth how she’d gotten Susie fixed, the house had been buried in food, Mrs. Boyle had been cross but then was happy after Gwendolyn had Ethel strike a deal with some man with a large mustache, but she couldn’t remember his name, and then what had happened at the beach. Apparently girls, according to Gwendolyn, were capable of doing things people said they couldn’t, like fishing, but Priscilla wasn’t keen to go fishing again because Oscar had caught a gigantic fish, but then a shark had jumped out of the water and snatched that fish with very big teeth, which had been responsible for the fish’s head soaring through the air and landing directly beside Priscilla and Samuel.
“So we started screaming,” Priscilla continued. “And Miss Brinley didn’t tell us we had to stop because she was scared about the shark too, cuz it could have eaten one of us. She just picked me and Sam up and raced across the beach, and then Oscar threw everything in the pony cart. Bert, that’s what we named our pony, wasn’t happy about pulling the cart, but Miss Brinley just snapped her fingers and told him to get going, and he did. Then when we got home, Miss Brinley had Mrs. Boyle make us hot chocolate to calm our nerves, and while we did that calming, she read us a story.”
“There really was a shark?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me?” Priscilla demanded. “Yes, there was a shark.”
Walter blinked. “I can see why Gwendolyn thought all of your nerves might need calming.”
Priscilla nodded. “It worked. And then she told us about this plan she had, and gave us tasks, and then after a small nap we changed our clothes and came here.”
“What does she want you to do?” Walter asked.
“We must talk to the ladies who want to talk to us, then tell Miss Brinley if we like any of them, but we’re not allowed to be rude if we don’t like them. I don’t like Miss Lowe cuz she ripped off Susie’s arm, but she brought me a new doll today, and I thanked her and even gave her a curtsy.”
Priscilla scratched her nose. “Miss Brinley put the doll in the carriage cuz it has a china face and she didn’t want me to break it. ’Sides, I brought Susie with me and I don’t want her to get mad.”
“Where is Susie?” Walter asked.