An Unconventional Courtship Read Online Free Page B

addressed her father at breakfast Tuesday morning as she buttered some toast for herself. “Papa, how many banks are there in New York City, do you think?” She made a grand show of deciding whether to put grape or strawberry jam on her toast, as if his answer was of no consequence, all the while holding her breath.
    Her father snapped his paper then folded it and set it beside his plate before he smiled at her. “Well, let’s see. There are several banks with good reputations in the city. There’s Mechanic’s Bank, Central Bank, and National City. Why the sudden interest?”
    “Well, you and I talked about setting up a trust fund for me and using the inheritance from Aunt Martha as the beginnings of it. I just want to make certain it gets into the right hands, and that the people taking care of such a large sum are honest and reputable. Do you know any of the people who run these banks?”
    “I wouldn’t be the prudent man that I am if I didn’t do my homework before turning over my funds to someone. My business accounts are with Mechanic’s Bank, being tended to by old Nathanial Grossman. My personal accounts are with Central Bank, simply because of its convenience. I deal with a gentleman there named Cyrus Littlefield. But I have been hearing good things about National City Bank. It’s owned by a man named Andrew Fitzpatrick, and he’s recently brought in his son, George, to help him. It seems the son has a way with money and can make it multiply exponentially with sound investments. If we are going to establish a trust for you, I’d say National City and George Fitzpatrick are a good pick. He’ll make your money grow into quite a nice sum.”
    Charlotte could barely contain her glee. She jumped up from the table and kissed her father on the cheek, smearing a bit of strawberry jam on him. “Oh, thank you, Papa. I think George Fitzpatrick is a perfect solution. May I go with you? When can we plan a visit?”
    “I don’t understand your sudden urgency, but I guess we can go today. How soon can you be ready?
    “Just give me a half-hour, Papa. Oh, this is perfect!”
    Charlotte dashed up the stairs of the four-story brownstone, catching her breath at the landing of the third floor, where her bedroom was situated. Things were back on track now. Soon George Fitzpatrick would realize she was the only woman he wanted in his life. She must put on her finest walking gown, perhaps the new black and white one from France. It certainly gave her an international flair. But then the rose silk suited her coloring. She decided to flatter her complexion with the rose dress rather than be boldly sophisticated, and she urged her maid do something quick with her hair. It was parted in the middle, as was Charlotte’s custom, and piled into a high bun, with long Spaniel curls shaped on either side of her face. Oh, and she should splash on an extra helping of lilac water.
    A short carriage ride later, Charlotte and her father made their way into the imposing limestone building that housed National City Bank. Charlotte was impressed by the multitudinous columns in the front of the building and by the massive carved lions on either side of the doorway that guarded the money inside. She waited, impatiently, as her father announced why they were at the bank. A gentleman escorted them into a small room off the main floor and closed the door, saying someone would be right with them.
    Charlotte was aware they were put in the small room to shield her female presence from others transacting business, and would normally have taken offense at being treated as of a lesser stature than a man, but today, she thought the secluded setting suited her needs exactly. She straightened her skirt and adjusted her new bonnet as she waited with her father. She hoped George would notice how the rose silk enhanced the color in her cheeks. She hoped George would remember who she was.
    • • •
    George had no idea why his presence was requested on the