The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress by Victoria Alexander

merchants, no matter how wealthy, do not marry future lords. It simply isn’t the way things are done here.”
    “Well, that’s just silly.” Lucy sniffed. “Why, it’s eighteen eighty-eight. We’re approaching the twentieth century. It’s not the Middle Ages after all. It seems to me if two people care for each other, it shouldn’t matter who they are or what they have or don’t have.”
    “Regardless, it does. All that history you are so admiring of here comes with a price. This is the way it has always been and the way it shall always be. Besides . . .” She resumed walking and shot Lucy a chastising look. “I’ve only just met the man and I’m not at all sure he’s to my liking.”
    “What kind of man would you like?” Lucy adopted a casual tone. “I have brothers and—”
    “Do you do this sort of thing in New York?”
    Lucy drew her brows together in confusion. “What sort of thing?”
    “Attempt to make matches.”
    “Well, no, not that I can recall.” It had just seemed such a good opportunity as Freddy was so obviously taken with Clara. Still, it was probably time to change the subject. “I think that went well. I quite enjoyed our visit.”
    Clara slanted her a knowing smile. “It was very pleasant. In addition, you now have the answer to your great-aunt’s curiosity about her mother’s rift with her family. And you’ve seen where she was born.” Clara nodded. “You may check those off your list.”
    “Plus I have solved a mystery of sorts. Yet another thing Lucinda wished to accomplish.” Lucy thought for a moment. “Through no fault of my own, really. Although, I suspect Lucinda had in mind a mystery of a more adventurous nature than discovering—”
    Without warning a man passing by jostled them, then sprinted off.
    Clara huffed. “I must say that was—”
    “He took my purse! He snatched it off my arm!” Lucy started after him. “Come back here, you cur!”
    “Lucy.” Clara grabbed her arm. “You can’t go after him.”
    “Of course I . . .” She huffed. “No, of course I can’t. Not in these shoes. And I suppose it would be unseemly to go running down the street.”
    “And foolish. He might be extremely dangerous.”
    “Damnation, if I was a man, I’d be after him without a moment’s hesitation.”
    “I’ve no doubt of that.” Clara took her arm and fairly dragged her toward their destination. “But you’re not a man and there’s nothing you can do except return to Channing House as quickly as possible.”
    “He took my handbag.” Lucy scowled, still looking in the direction the thief had gone. “The fiend.”
    “You have others.”
    “Well, I hope he feels his theft was worth it when he finds nothing of value except my second favorite pair of kid gloves and a few shillings.”
    “Yes, that will teach him a lesson,” Clara said wryly.
    “I should like to teach him a lesson,” Lucy muttered. She’d never had anything stolen from her before. It was . . . She should probably be frightened but instead indignation gripped her along with absolute fury. How dare he?
    Clara’s pace was even faster than before, if possible, and in no more than a few minutes they reached the front entry of Channing House. Still, it was long enough for Lucy’s ire to fade, replaced by a dreadful sense of helplessness and yes, more than a touch of fear. Good God, Clara was right. They could have been in a great deal of danger.
    “Miss?” A male voice called from behind them, and both women turned. The mysterious stranger she’d seen following them now hurried in their direction.
    “Good Lord,” Clara murmured.
    “Yes?” Lucy stared. She was right. He was handsome, with a square jaw, lips a shade full for a man but attractive nonetheless. His nose was a bit too straight and Roman for her liking, but it suited him, and his eyes were the darkest velvety brown she had ever seen. The oddest thing happened to her stomach. Still, how could he have allowed this to happen?