Rebellious and perilous, p.1
Rebellious and Perilous, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Series
Rebellious and Perilous
Copyright
Martini Club 4:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Martini Club 4:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Twelve
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Also available from The Wild Rose Press
REBELLIOUS…
Jessica studied his handsome face. With the smile gone, he looked older, harder. Haunted, even. Surely whatever he hid was far more dangerous than her own little secrets. But in that instant, the noise and the crowd faded around them, and she could only see him. He looked into her eyes, and she saw flash of raw pain there. Then it was hidden in another smile.
She knew then that, no matter what they each hid in their own hearts, he really saw her as no one else ever had. They were two of a kind. Risk takers. Curious. Wild.
It was exciting, new, wondrous—and it made her want to run away even as she never wanted to leave.
PERILOUS…
“Madeline,” Christoph said solemnly as he started to hand her into the car. “Please, be most careful. Perhaps it would be best if you went back to London.”
Maddie smiled up at him. “But I can’t, not until after the graduation. Thank you for tea, Christoph, it was lovely. I hope we can talk again soon.”
As the taxi sped away, she glanced out the back window to see him watching her go with a frown on his handsome face. Did he want to protect her, or was he hiding something? Either way, she was determined to find out, very soon.
The Martini Club 4 series consists of a total of eight stories by four different authors. They are intertwined and take place somewhat simultaneously, but they are best read in the following order:
Martini Club 4: The 1920s Stories:
Rebellious by Amanda McCabe
Ruined by Alicia Dean
Reckless by Kathy L Wheeler
Runaway by Krysta Scott
Martini Club 4: The 1940s Stories:
Pampered by Kathy L Wheeler
Priceless by Krysta Scott
Perilous by Amanda McCabe
Precarious by Alicia Dean
We hope you enjoy!
Martini Club 4:
Rebellious: The 1920s
Perilous: The 1940s
by
Amanda McCabe
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Martini Club 4: Rebellious and Perilous
COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Amanda McCabe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Lisa Dawn MacDonald
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2021
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-3760-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3761-6
Martini Club 4, Rebellious, Perilous
Published in the United States of America
Martini Club 4:
The 1920s
Rebellious
Prologue
England, 1924
“Such a lovely bride! The Hattons have certainly made a big production of this wedding, haven’t they?”
“Wouldn’t you, if you were them? Now they have one less hoydenish daughter to be rid of.”
Lady Jessica Hatton choked on her forbidden cigarette as a laugh almost burst out of her at the two fusty old dowagers’ words. Lady Briggsly and Mrs. Cartwright, the two biggest gossips around. They made it sound as if her parents had a whole tribe of flappers running loose in the ancient corridors of Hatton Hall. That sounded as if it would be quite fun, but alas there was only herself and her older sister Lulu, the newly disposed-of bride. And Lulu had never been at all hoydenish.
Jess, on the other hand...
Jessica slid down lower in her hiding place in the hollow of the huge old oak tree. The grove of trees was far beyond the huge white pavilions set up for Lulu and David Carlisle’s wedding reception. She’d thought no one would venture away from the caviar and paté and all that free champagne. The sky was just turning pinkish at the edges as the sun sank lower, and the music was growing louder.
But nowhere was safe. Not at the Wedding Of The Year, according to Town Talk magazine.
Jessica took another drag on her cigarette and prayed the guests would wander away soon.
“Well, Lady Louisa looked beautiful, I’ll certainly give her that,” one of the dowagers sniffed. “I heard they went to Paris to get the gown from Monsieur Poiret. As if Lucille of London wasn’t grand enough.”
“They had to distract everyone from the bridegroom, didn’t they?” said her friend. “Poor man. He was so handsome once. I’m surprised Lady Louisa put back her veil to look at him.”
Jessica nearly leaped out of her hidey-hole at those nasty words. David Carlisle was a war hero, once the best friend of their lost brother Bill, and the sweetest chap that ever lived! His scars only proved his bravery. If those old cows would just...
But then she remembered her mother’s stern admonition before they climbed into the car to go to the church. No scenes today, Jessica, I am warning you! No pranks at all. This is your sister’s day.
So Jess had once let a frog loose at the cake table at a wedding. That was ages ago when she was just a silly child, and it had been that snooty Millicent Haigh’s reception anyway. She rather deserved the uproar.
But not Lulu and David. Their day had to be perfect, and it was. All clouds of tulle, orange blossoms, towering white cakes of spun sugar, and joyful smiles in two lives that had seen too much sadness. Jess would never do anything to mar that. Even now.
Yet she couldn’t help but blow a ring of silvery smoke toward those old biddies.
“Do you smell something?” one of the ladies shrieked. “Charlotte, you would never do such a thing as smoke would you?”
Jessica peeked out again to see that Lady Briggsly was holding her poor daughter, Charlotte Leighton, who had once been Jess’s schoolfriend, by the hand. Charlotte looked miserable, as usual, and pale as a ghost in a silver chiffon dress.
“No, Mama,” she muttered.
“These men and their vile cigarettes,” Mrs. Cartwright said. “We should go back to the dancing.”
“If only they hadn’t hired a jazz band. So vulgar...”
Much to Jess’s relief, they finally took poor Charlotte and wandered away and left her alone again. She stretched out her legs under the handkerchief hem of her pink satin Poiret bridesmaid’s gown and settled in to enjoy her ciggie in peace.
Peace didn’t last very long.
“There you are, you horrid thing!”
At the sound of that loud cry, Jess felt a rush of panic that her mother had found her. She tried to stub out the cigarette and whirled around, an excuse on her lips—only to find her best friend, Lady Margaret Montley, standing there.
Meggie’s hands were planted on her hips as she gave Jess a mock glare. As usual, her wild golden curls were sliding from their jeweled combs, and her fashionably straight blue silk gown couldn’t contain her unfashionably voluptuous figure. Meggie never cared at all that she wasn’t in style; she was always unabashedly herself. It was the reason they had become immediate and fast pals at Mrs. Greensley’s School For Young Ladies.
“Meggie, you gave me a heart seizure,” Jess said. “I thought you were Mum.”
“She did look as if she was searching for you, but then David made her dance with him, so you’re safe for a few minutes. I saw poor Charlotte Leighton being dragged away her mother. Here, scoot over so I can hide, too,” Meggie said.
Jess slid over in the little hollow behind the tree and dug around in her beaded purse for her silver cigarette case and lighter. She lit up one for each of them, and they smoked in companionable silence for a long moment. The shadows of evening were creeping in, making the lights of the Chinese lanterns in the tents glow brighter, the music of the horns and the drums louder.
“Was that old Mrs. Cartwright I saw wandering away with Charlotte and her mother?” Meggie said.
“Mm-hm,” Jessica answered. She tucked the short strands of her red-gold bob behind her ears. “She and her horrid old bosom bow. They were dreadful about David’s scars.”
I doubt he would care one jot,” Meggie said with a snort. “He and your sister looked heavenly happy. And we won’t have to worry about the likes of them anymore either. Do you have it with you?”
Jessica laughed. “Of course I do! I carry it with me everywhere so I can remind myself it’s almost time.” She opened her purse again and found the tickets carefully folded and tucked in the bottom.
They each bent closer to read the precious words. The Cunard Line—Empress of India—departing Southampton for New York City. One first class cabin, two berths, for Jess and Meggie. Or rather, for their alter egos Miss Hampton and Mrs. Mortley.
“I can’t believe it!” Meggie whispered in excitement. “Only a fortnight away.”
“And then we’ll be in New York!” Jess could hardly believe it herself. In only a few weeks, she would be away from England, away from her mother trying to force her into being the perfect deb, and wandering the glittering streets of New York. America. Sparkling high-rise windows, stretching all the way to the sky. Jazz, and shops, and taxis—and freedom.
“It will be even more fun than the time we put glue in the locks on finals day at Mrs. Greensley’s. But are you sure they’ll hire you once they see you’re—well, not exactly what they’re expecting?” Meggie said.
“Of course,” Jess said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel bone-deep. But she would have to make herself feel it, very soon. Confidence would carry her through. “They just want some plummy-sounding British aristocrat. A lady is as good as a lord when it comes to a byline. And I never told them I was a man.”
She’d just signed her letter of application as JEO Hatton of Hatton Hall, Surrey. If they didn’t think that meant Jessica Elizabeth Olivia Hatton, tough nuts to them. They’d liked her sample articles, and she would knock their socks off with what she could write there.
She was going to be a real, true-life newspaper writer. That was all that mattered.
“Come on,” she said, putting out her cigarette. “Mum will be looking for us. We can’t give her any cause for suspicion, not if we’re going to pull this off.”
“Oh, we’ll pull it off all right,” Meggie said with her usual confidence. “I’m not missing out on America for anything.”
They hugged in a sudden burst of exuberant giggles. It was going to happen! The adventure they had schemed and planned for ever since they were at school. It was finally coming true...
Chapter One
Aboard the Empress of India
“Do you smell that, Meggie?” Jessica cried as she leaned into the cold, salt spray wind, her T-strap shoes perched on the lowest rung of the ship’s railing. She’d lost her hat, and the short strands of her hair blew into her eyes, but she didn’t care. England was far behind them. They had escaped.
“It smells like freedom!” she shouted and threw up her arms. It felt like she could fly all the way to America.
“I only smell old fish,” Meggie said. “Now come down from there, Jess. If you tumble into the drink, it will all be over before it even starts.”
Jessica laughed and shook her head, but she did climb down. She spun around to see Meggie stretched out on one of the deck chairs, the glossy mink collar of her coat drawn close around her.
The sky was gray and dismal looking, the water not as glassy-smooth as when they slid past Ireland yesterday and headed out to open sea. Several of the passengers had retreated to their cabins, but Jessica couldn’t stand staying inside. Not when there was so much to be seen.
“It smells like fish and freedom,” Jessica insisted. “But we can go in now. Maybe Charlotte and Eliza will want to play some cards or mah-jong.”
“Finally,” Meggie grumbled as she swung her feet down to the damp deck. But her smile was broad. Jessica knew Meggie was loving it all just as much as she was.
“Come on, let’s find Charlotte and Eliza,” Jessica said, racing ahead toward the ship’s salon. Their adventure had started growing on the boat train from London when they met their old schoolmate Charlotte Leighton and heard her romantic tale of fleeing an arranged marriage. So Victorian and tragic! They persuaded her to change her booking to their own ship.
And when they decided they should find a phony “lady’s maid” to appear respectable and deflect suspicion, they found the perfect candidate on the docks in the person of Eliza Gilbert. A pretty ex-housemaid, she had been turned out of her position when her employer’s evil son tried to seduce her.
Jessica made sure to take copious notes. If journalism didn’t work out, surely she could turn to novel writing! The four of them were going to have to support themselves somehow. The running-away money she had saved for years wouldn’t last much longer.
Meggie caught up with her, and hand in hand they ran toward the salon, laughing as they waved at some of the handsome sailors.
“Coming to the fancy dress party tonight, ladies?” one of them called.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Jessica answered. Fancy dress parties were one of her very favorite things—and one at sea was bound to be doubly fun.
She swung around the corner, only to almost knock over the lady standing outside the glass salon doors. They skidded on the slippery wooden deck, and Meggie had to grab both their arms to keep them from falling.
“I’m so sorry,” Jessica gasped, dizzy. She saw it was the petite, delicate—and quite mysterious—Countess Markova she had almost barreled into. The lady was swathed in pale furs, a satin turban over her hair and a tiny white dog under her arm.
“Nyet,” the countess said, waving a gloved hand. “Is—how you say? Nothing.”
Jessica and Meggie exchanged a glance. The countess, obviously a Russian noblewoman cruelly cast out of her homeland by the Bolsheviks, had been an object of intense speculation for Jessica and her friends ever since they saw her come aboard. They all had ideas about what her dramatic story could be, but the lady herself was elusive. They only caught glimpses of her around the ship.
Like now. Jessica watched, fascinated, as the countess drifted away along the deck. At the railing, she took the arm of a tall man in a black overcoat and stylish black, broad-brimmed hat. He turned to smile down at her—and Jessica almost gasped.
It was quite shocking how good-looking he was. Surely men like that only existed in the cinema. Jessica was used to pale-faced, stammering boys from “good families” who steered her clumsily around the floor at tea dances and yammered on about cricket.
She would bet this man never talked about cricket. And that he could dance a wicked tango.
His profile under the brim of his hat was sharply cut, all elegant angles, his strong jaw roughened with whiskers as dark as his wavy black hair. Like a marble statue of some Roman god in a museum, only alive. Dark and vibrant.
Jessica shivered just looking at him.
“Good heavens! Do you suppose that’s Ramon Novarro?” Meggie whispered, making Jessica break into giggles. They had just seen Novarro’s movie Thy Name is Woman before they left England, and everyone had enormous crushes on him.
The countess and her stunning companion looked back at them at the sudden burst of noise. Jessica had a glimpse of wintery, sea-blue eyes, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She felt so embarrassed, like a stupid little schoolgirl gawking at an actorly crush on the stage, yet neither could she turn away.
His smile widened as if he knew what she was thinking, and Jessica whirled around. She grabbed Meggie’s arm and dragged her into the salon.
“I wasn’t done staring,” Meggie said with a laugh.
“I thought we were going to find the others and play mah-jong or something,” Jessica snapped.
Meggie gave her a puzzled look, but she knew better than to say anything. She shrugged. “Sure. Sounds like fun. I’ll grab a table, you go and find them.”
Jessica spun around and rushed away, not quite sure where she was actually going. She just knew she had to get away from the glamorous countess’s companion before she dissolved into a puddle of blushes and giggles, like all those silly girls she and Meggie went to Mrs. Greensley’s School with, and who she wanted to forget. She was starting a brand-new, grown-up life in a new city, no more silly English missishness!
She ran up a narrow flight of stairs, rolling slightly with the waves of the ship, and along a corridor. Two passing sailors called out cheerful greetings as she hurried past.
