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    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella
    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella
    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella
    Ebook136 pages1 hour

    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella

    By Jen Turano

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    About this ebook

    After her father lost the family's fortune, Wilhelmina was cast out of the fashionable set and banished to the wallflower section. Taking a position as a social secretary to help support her family, she's mostly come to terms with her new status. But when her old friend Edgar returns to New York society for the first time since she rejected his marriage proposal, she's newly ashamed at how far she's fallen--and how hastily she dismissed him years ago. Her strategy is to avoid a face-to-face encounter at all costs, but he seems to have other plans. Will Edgar take advantage of their now reversed positions and make her regret her refusal, or is there still hope for a friendship between them--or something more?

    At Your Request is an e-only novella that gives an exciting introduction to Jen Turano's new Gilded Age historical romance series, Apart From the Crowd! Includes an extended excerpt of the first full-length novel in the series, Behind the Scenes.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBaker Publishing Group
    Release dateJan 3, 2017
    ISBN9781441229953
    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd): An Apart From the Crowd Novella
    Author

    Jen Turano

    Jen Turano is the author of over eight books and two novellas. A graduate of the University of Akron, she has a degree in clothing and textiles, is a member of ACFW, and lives in Denver, Colorado. For more information, visit her at www.jenturano.com.

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    Reviews for At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd)

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    • 2/5
      I should read more Edith Wharton to see how the language compares, but I found the writing incredibly wooden and stilted. Yes, writing back then was much more wordy when compared to most novels written today, but it still had a flow and elegance which is completely lacking here. I also find it annoying when modern authors shoehorn in contemporary attitudes about things like clothing. The combination of stilted language and anachronistic standards makes it hard to even get through what was otherwise an ok plot.

    Book preview

    At Your Request (Apart From the Crowd) - Jen Turano

    © 2017 by Jennifer L. Turano

    Published by Bethany House Publishers

    11400 Hampshire Avenue South

    Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

    www.bethanyhouse.com

    Bethany House Publishers is a division of

    Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

    www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

    Ebook edition created 2017

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

    ISBN 978-1-4412-2995-3

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Cover design by Jennifer Parker

    Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC

    Author represented by Natasha Kern Literary Agency

    Contents

    Cover

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Epilogue

    Excerpt from Behind the Scenes

    About the Author

    Books by Jen Turano

    Back Ads

    Chapter

    One

    JANUARY 1883—NEW YORK CITY

    Miss Wilhelmina Radcliff was reluctantly coming to the unfortunate conclusion that there were absolutely no perks to be had when one obtained the unenviable title of wallflower.

    Taking a sip of the tepid lemonade she’d actually fetched for herself, she couldn’t help but recall the many times in her past when flutes of champagne had shown up in her hand before she’d even proclaimed herself thirsty. Those flutes had been brought to her by her many admirers, admirers who had all but vanished the moment her father’s fortune had disappeared—destroyed as so many fortunes were wont to do by a single disastrous investment decision.

    Shifting on the uncomfortable chair provided by her hostess, Mrs. William Travers, wife to one of the esteemed New York patriarchs, Wilhelmina paused when the chair gave an ominous groan. Refusing to give in to the urge to heave a sigh—especially since any type of heaving might have the chair giving out underneath her—she remained frozen on the spot, praying that the chair would not collapse, since that would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention.

    Attention was not something she actively sought these days, especially because any attention she did garner usually came with a large dollop of pitying looks cast her way by young ladies Wilhelmina had once considered friends.

    Blowing out a breath of relief when the legs of the chair continued to hold her hardly slender figure, Wilhelmina took a second to smooth out the folds of her slightly out-of-fashion brocade gown.

    Her smoothing came to an abrupt end, however, when the lady sitting two chairs down from her suddenly leaned forward, peered at something in the distance, and then bent her head and began scribbling madly on her dance card. After her scribbling was done, she lifted her head, squinted off into the distance again, and then, to Wilhelmina’s surprise, turned and pinned Wilhelmina with eyes that were a very unusual shade of blue.

    I say, Miss Radcliff, given that you are a most sought-after social secretary these days, would you happen to know the name of that gentleman standing over there beside Miss Kasson? The lady gestured in the direction of one of the refreshment tables. I took note of him at the Academy of Music earlier this evening, but even though I’ve been out in society for what seems like ages, I’ve never seen that particular gentleman before.

    With her mouth forming an O of surprise, Wilhelmina responded to the question in the only way she felt capable of responding—she simply took to gawking at the lady. That gawking was undoubtedly caused by the very idea that the lady had willingly chosen to break one of the unspoken rules of the wallflowers. That rule, as everyone knew, being that wallflowers did not converse with each other . . . ever.

    Wallflowers preferred, or at least she assumed they did, to remain mute, suffering in silence while presenting society with a face of stoic nonchalance. That nonchalance was apparently intended to prove that they were not bothered in the least by the fact they’d been excluded from the fashionable crowd, forced to spend their time twiddling their thumbs while their social superiors waltzed around the dance floor.

    Wilhelmina was not a lady who was comfortable with accepting the whole banished-to-the-fringes-of-society notion. Quite honestly, she was fairly certain she’d be far happier not attending society events at all. But, because she did need the funds high-society ladies were willing to pay for her fine penmanship, she found herself included in one society function after another these days. While she attended these functions, it was her duty to take note of all the guests present, observe who seemed to be in highest demand, and then use that information when she compiled the next guest list, making certain those in-demand society members were placed at the very top of the invitation list.

    Being required, due to a lack of funds, to take on employment had rankled at first. But with time, and with the realization that her contributions to the meager family coffers actually mattered, Wilhelmina had pushed aside all semblance of pride as she settled into the daunting business of survival.

    Because she’d been forced to concern herself with the basic necessities of life, she no longer dwelled on what her future was supposed to have held for her. No longer did she ponder what might have made up her happily-ever-after—especially since she had, at least for a brief moment in time, contemplated allowing Mr. Warren Holland to experience that happily-ever-after with her.

    She’d eventually come to realize that she hadn’t actually loved Mr. Holland, even if her head had been slightly turned by his handsome face and debonair attitude. Those attributes paled considerably when she discovered he was a complete and utter cad, abandoning her the moment he’d learned about her father’s financial setback, while whispering falsehoods in all the right ears that—

    Forgive me, Miss Radcliff. I certainly didn’t mean to cause you any distress by asking you what must be a far more difficult question than I knew, given that scowl you now have on your face.

    Blinking out of her thoughts, Wilhelmina felt her cheeks warm when she realized she’d been so lost in memories that she’d completely forgotten she’d been asked a question, and a relatively simple question at that.

    I do beg your pardon, Wilhelmina began. I fear I was so taken aback by your speaking to me that I lost all track of the conversation.

    The lady flashed a grin Wilhelmina’s way. Shocking, isn’t it, that I’d have the audacity to speak to you? Tucking her dance card up the sleeve of a very fashionable dark velvet gown, the lady rose to her feet and dropped into the empty seat beside Wilhelmina a moment later. Without a by-your-leave, she then thrust a gloved hand Wilhelmina’s way. I’m Miss Permilia Griswold.

    Having never been presented with another lady’s hand before, Wilhelmina hesitated for the briefest of moments before she took the offered hand, discovering as she did so that Miss Griswold possessed a remarkably firm grip. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Griswold, and as you already seem to know, I’m Miss Wilhelmina Radcliff. Although . . .

    Withdrawing her hand, Wilhelmina frowned. If you’ve been out in society for what seems like ages—as you just mentioned—why haven’t we been formally introduced before?

    Miss Griswold waved that aside with a flick of a gloved wrist. I don’t believe there needs to be much wondering about that, Miss Radcliff. I’ve never taken within society—not once since I made my debut at the ripe-old age of nineteen, which was . . . goodness . . . six years ago now.

    You’ve been out for six years?

    Indeed I have—a situation that my stepmother, the former Ida Webster, contemplates on an almost daily basis. Miss Griswold leaned closer and lowered her voice. Ida has now come to the conclusion that I’ve deliberately set society against me in an attempt to annoy her.

    Wilhelmina’s nose took to wrinkling. And . . . have you?

    Tapping a finger against her chin, Miss Griswold seemed to consider the question quite thoroughly before she shrugged. Hard to say. But getting back to the reason you and I have never been formally introduced. . . . I believe it has something to do with me being a wallflower for such an extended period of time. During that time, you, Miss Radcliff, were twirling around the dance floor, one of society’s darlings—at least until your . . . Miss Griswold’s voice trailed to nothing as she suddenly began looking quite as if she’d rather be sitting anywhere except next to Wilhelmina at this particular moment.

    Swallowing a laugh at the look of absolute horror on Miss Griswold’s face, Wilhelmina reached over and patted Miss Griswold’s arm, an action that surprised not only Miss Griswold, but Wilhelmina as well.

    There’s no need to feel remorse for speaking nothing less than the truth, Miss Griswold. I am perfectly aware that I was once a darling of society and am now . . . well, not. Curious as this may sound, I find it rather refreshing that you have no qualms about bringing up my unfortunate fall from the top rungs of the society ladder. Wilhelmina gave a sad shake of her head. My old friends never acknowledge that I once ruled the ballrooms, acting for all intents and purposes as if my descent from that lofty place might be contagious.

    Miss Griswold took to patting Wilhelmina’s arm. "I’m sure that must be hard for you, being slighted in such a despicable manner. Although, from the whispers I’ve heard, your fall from grace had more

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