A Dangerous Engagement

by Ashley Weaver

  “I didn’t make her any promises,” I said, as I took his arm again and we resumed walking. “I only told her that I would try to see if I could find anything amiss.”

  Milo sighed.

  “You needn’t be annoyed; there’s not much I can do, really.”

  “You say that now, but one or two confirmed suspicions will find you rifling through his desk drawers in the dead of night.”

  “I certainly would do no such thing!”

  He looked at me and smiled. “We’re here for a wedding, Amory. Please try not to immerse us in another mystery.”

  “You used to enjoy the thrill of the chase,” I challenged.

  “Only when I’m chasing something worthwhile.”

  “Come now,” I said, squeezing his arm. “You can’t tell me that a little part of you doesn’t enjoy these things, the hint that something might go wrong. I should think it’s just the sort of thing that appeals to you in gambling and horse racing.”

  “All right,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll see if anything of interest happens to come up in my conversations with Mr. Alden.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  We stopped walking then as we reached a little pond. The sun was shining on the water, and children were playing along its edges, two small boys pushing miniature boats into the shimmering surface. A soft breeze blew, and the birds were singing in the trees.

  It was a lovely scene, and I suddenly felt a little rush of happiness to be standing there with the man I loved. Almost before I knew what I was doing, I had turned to him and, throwing my arms around his neck, kissed him.

  He responded readily, and we stood there for a moment like a pair of young lovers who had met for a liaison in the park.

  At last I pulled away, mindful of not making a scene in a public place.

  “What was that for?” he asked, looking down at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Can’t a woman kiss her husband if she feels so inclined?”

  “You may kiss me anytime you like,” he said. “In fact, the more often, the better.”

  I laughed. “Well, we’d better move along now. I’d hate for anyone to see us behaving scandalously. Shall we walk to the other end of the park?”

  “I think we’d better go back instead,” he said.

  “Why?”

  He flashed me a wicked smile. “Because we might just have time to sneak up to our room before the Aldens arrive home.”

  6

  WE WENT TO a nightclub that evening with Tabitha, Tom, Jemma Petrie, and Rudy Elliot. Mr. Palmer did not accompany us, and I didn’t ask Tabitha whether or not he had been invited.

  I very much enjoyed the ride from the Aldens’ quiet street into the heart of the city. There was something magical about New York at night. The streets glowed brightly with the lights of sleepless buildings and the advertisements for cigarettes and drugstores, Automats and all-night diners, and shows and cinemas. People and cars moved through the streets in what seemed to be a delicately timed dance, and there was the ever-present sound of calling voices, and music, and the beeping of automobile horns.

  At our destination, we alighted from the car and made our way with a crowd of men in top hats and tailcoats and women in furs into the cool, marble interior of the Topaz Club. It was a lovely place, with stylish, elegant décor. We were led to a silver-clothed table near the dance floor, which sat before a bandstand with an elaborate backdrop draped with yards of blue satin.

  “Not much of a nightclub when there’s nothing good to drink,” Milo muttered to me as we settled into our seats, but Tom had assured us that the food was excellent enough to compensate for the lack of spirits, and Tabitha had said the band was one of the best in town.

  “I love your dress, Amory,” Jemma Petrie said to me from across the table. “I could never get away with wearing that color.”

  “Thank you. I purchased it only recently.”

  I had known Milo would want to take advantage of New York nightlife while we were here, and, to that end, I had brought an array of new evening gowns. For tonight I had chosen one of pale gray silk with a skirt of gauzy layers that seemed almost to float when I walked. I felt rather ethereal in it, and I supposed that my stubborn pallor, brought on by seasickness and travel weariness, only added to the effect.

  “Are you all right, darling?” Milo leaned to ask me as our food arrived. I had looked down at the broiled chicken and potatoes and felt myself grow a shade paler.

  “Yes,” I said faintly. “I’m afraid I haven’t quite shaken my sea legs.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  I shook my head, picking up my fork. “No, no. I’m having a lovely time.”

  We ate and enjoyed the floor show, a chorus line of dancers in bright and sparkling costumes and a comely soloist with a credible singing voice.

  When the dancers and singer had departed, the band began to play and couples moved to the dance floor. It was just then that a waiter came to our table.

  “There’s a phone call for you, Mr. Elliot.”

  Rudy smiled, pulling his napkin from his lap and tossing it onto the table. “That might be the office. I’ve been waiting to hear about a new account. Excuse me, will you?”

  He left the table then, and Tom turned to me. “Would you care to dance, Mrs. Ames?”

  Though he did it out of duty, I suspected he was relieved when I told him to ask Tabitha instead. I had the impression that he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. I had not missed the way they constantly touched, the way they seemed happier the closer they were to each other.

  “Shall we, Miss Petrie?” Milo asked.

  “I’d love to,” she replied, taking his outstretched hand.

  They all went off to the dance floor and I enjoyed watching the couples move about the room in time to beautifully played music. There was an aura of happiness and gaiety in the air, the sense of excitement and romance that seems to permeate the places where couples meet and hope and longing build.

  My eyes fell again on Tom and Tabitha. He leaned to whisper something in her ear and she laughed, her arms tightening around his neck. They were clearly besotted with each other. I found myself hoping that all of Tabitha’s worries about her father would amount to nothing and that she and Tom could get married and live happily ever after.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Ames,” said a voice at my side, drawing me from my reverie.

  I looked up to see that Grant Palmer had arrived at the table. Though no one had mentioned his joining us, I found I was not entirely surprised that he had made an appearance.

  “Good evening,” I replied.

  “I see I’m a bit late to the party, as usual. I was hoping to have a word with Tom about something, and I knew this is where he and Tabitha usually go when they want an evening out.”

  “Yes, they’re dancing at the moment.”

  “So I see. And Jemma’s got ahold of your husband. Not very nice for you, is it? Leaving you here all alone. Although, it’s a wonder Rudy didn’t try to drag you off to the dance floor.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to be entertained,” I said, hoping that he would take the hint and not ask me to dance. I felt perfectly happy being a spectator tonight.

  To my relief, he didn’t offer to escort me to the dance floor. Instead, he pulled out the chair beside me and dropped into it.

  “You must find New York a bit wild compared to London,” he said. “I suppose we must all seem a bit savage.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “London has its share of excitements.”

  “Maybe you’re just better at pretending to be civil than we are.”

  I looked up at him, wondering what he meant. My instinct was to be annoyed with him for his strange remarks, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to reach that point.

  “You said you’ve always lived in New York?” I asked, trying to steer the topic away from the unsteady ground upon which I had the sensation we were treading.

 
“Grew up in Brooklyn,” he replied. “Not the sort of company you’d normally keep, I suppose. Or the Aldens, for that matter. But Tom and I met a few years ago and we got on all right. I’m learning to get around in their world.”

  “And do you find you’ve settled into ‘their world,’ as you call it?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what had made me ask the question. I was curious somehow to know more about him. There was more to him than met the eye, depths that he didn’t often reveal. I recognized this, for Milo had the same quality, that airy indifference that concealed whatever lay beneath.

  “I find it more and more difficult to walk the tightrope.”

  “In what way?”

  “In a lot of ways.”

  I wanted to press him further, but something in the way he said it made it clear he had brought this area of conversation to an end, so I switched topics.

  “You said you met Tom four years ago? Where did you meet?”

  He took a cigarette from a case in his pocket and put it in his mouth. “Four or five years, yeah.” He struck a match and put it to the tip of his cigarette before waving it out. “I don’t really recall. We bumped into each other and struck up an acquaintance.”

  I found it difficult to believe that he could not remember the origin of their friendship, especially when it had not been so very long since they met. I realized with a vaguely uneasy feeling that it seemed that everyone had only known Tom for a few years. I had yet to hear anyone, including Tom himself, mention what his life had been before he’d moved to New York.

  “You mentioned that he was going to live the straight and narrow now that he’s met Tabitha,” I said with a smile, hoping to draw him out. “I suppose you two got into some trouble together.”

  “Did I say that?” Mr. Palmer asked, his dark eyes meeting mine. “I don’t recall.”

  I was certain he did recall, and I wondered why he had decided to change his story now. There was something very underhanded about Grant Palmer.

  I wavered for just a moment between politeness and curiosity and then decided to confront him about it.

  “Come now, Mr. Palmer,” I said with a laugh that was not quite sincere. “I don’t expect your memory is as shoddy as all that.”

  He smiled at me, and it was not quite the same flippant smile I had come to expect. “I think you’re a smart lady, Mrs. Ames.”

  This was not the answer I had expected. “How so?”

  “You’ve got that society elegance about you, but I don’t think you’re fooled by a lot of it. That’s smart. It’s always best to have your guard up. I learned that a long time ago.”

  I was unsure of how to respond, and before I could, the music had ended and the others returned to our table.

  “Oh, hello, Grant,” Tabitha said, doing a convincing job of appearing glad to see him.

  “Came to enjoy a night out with us?” Tom asked. I noticed that he, in contrast to Tabitha, seemed a bit stiff at the sight of his friend’s unexpected arrival.

  “No, I need to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.”

  I watched Tom Smith carefully, but he appeared perfectly at ease with the request, and some of the tension even seemed to leave his shoulders at the suggestion they should leave the group. “Sure. Let’s go out into the foyer. I need to buy some more cigarettes anyway.”

  The two men turned and left as Jemma Petrie and Tabitha took their seats. If Tabitha thought it strange that her fiancé had been called away by Mr. Palmer, she didn’t show it.

  “I think we’re going to leave soon,” she told me.

  “Oh?” I was a bit surprised, as it was still early.

  “We’re going to the Stork Club.” Jemma leaned forward, voice lowered and brows raised. “They serve alcohol. Would you like to come with us?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” I was ready to call it a night, but I knew that Milo might be glad to spend a bit more time on the town. I glanced at him. “Perhaps Milo would like to accompany you.”

  Jemma looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. “I’ll accompany Mrs. Ames back to the house, I think.”

  We said our good-byes and Milo and I took our leave. As we walked out into the foyer of the nightclub, I caught sight of Tom and Mr. Palmer having a discussion near a potted palm in the corner.

  I was surprised to see that, in contrast to his normally pleasant countenance and his easy manner a few moments before, Tom’s face was a picture of barely controlled anger. His jaw was tight and his color high. He gestured toward Mr. Palmer in quick, jerky movements that somehow gave me the impression of suppressed violence.

  Mr. Palmer looked, as always, as though nothing was of much importance to him, listening to Tom then replying calmly, that careless smile on his lips.

  I couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but Tom’s voice rose suddenly and I caught a few words. “I won’t let the past keep following me.”

  “Ready, darling?” Milo arrived with my coat, drawing my attention away from the two gentlemen. It was then I noticed Jemma Petrie standing off to one side, unnoticed by Tom and Grant Palmer. She seemed to be observing the argument with interest, though she made no move to interfere. I thought it would probably be better if we didn’t interrupt the scene to make our good-byes.

  I leaned against Milo as we settled into the back of the cab, making our way slowly through the crowded, dazzling streets. It was a feast for the eyes, this city, and I could feel the energy humming around us. It was late, but it seemed the night was just beginning for the people of New York.

  “You needn’t have accompanied me back to the Aldens’ home, you know,” I said. “If you wished to go out with the others I could have gone back alone.”

  “I’d much rather spend the evening with you,” he said, sliding his arm around me and pulling me a bit closer.

  My head was filled with thoughts of a warm bath and a soft bed, and so I was unprepared for the scene that met us as we alighted the cab and walked along the pavement toward the steps. The front door of the house was suddenly flung open, the sound of loud voices flowing out into the night air. Milo touched my elbow and we held back a moment, shielded from the doorway by shadows and the trunk of an elm tree.

  “Get out of here and don’t come back!” a loud voice shouted. It took me a moment to realize that it was Mr. Alden, so distorted with anger was his tone.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” the man replied.

  I glanced at Milo, wondering if it would perhaps be best for us to beat a quiet retreat. Milo, however, was listening to the exchange and appeared in no hurry to leave the men to their privacy.

  I was about to nudge him, motion for us to walk away from the house for a few moments at least, but before we could move, a man came tumbling down the front steps, landing practically at our feet, and Mr. Alden appeared at the top of the steps, coming into view.

  I was startled by the expression on his face, illuminated by the porch light. The tone of his skin was bright red, his eyes blazing. “No one threatens me and gets away with it. If you come back here again, I’ll kill you,” he said in a strangled voice.

  It was only then that he caught sight of us. Mr. Alden stopped, an expression of surprise momentarily supplanting the fury in his eyes.

  The man rose to his feet, dusting himself off. I glanced at him. He was young and small of stature, but there was something dangerous about him. It was almost as though I could feel the anger and hatred emanating from him.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Alden,” he said, and I was certain the words held a threat.

  The man disappeared down the pavement and into the shadows, and the three of us were left standing in our odd little tableau.

  Mr. Alden looked as though he was trying valiantly to collect himself. He was still angry, but he was also now required to regain control of his emotions. He had not expected to see us there, and he was left with either acting as though nothing had happened or coming up with a plausible excuse for what Milo and I
had just witnessed.

  For my part, I was mortified. I very much wished we had come home just five minutes later and avoided all of this. It was Milo, who never found anything embarrassing, who was the first to break the silence.

  “Not a friend of yours, I take it,” he said easily.

  I let out a little sigh of dismay.

  Mr. Alden looked abashed for just a moment, as though he had been caught in something that he shouldn’t have been. I thought that he would issue an apology, and then it seemed as though he built his bluster back up and decided to power through as though nothing was amiss.

  “That was … a business associate,” he said, offering us a tight smile. “He was a bit overwrought. It happens occasionally.”

  “Yes, I can imagine,” I said politely, though it seemed to me that Mr. Alden was the one who had been a bit overwrought. I tried to remember if I had ever been involved in any circumstances in which one gentleman had thrown another bodily from his home and came up short.

  I had always taken Tabitha’s father for a cheerful, mild-mannered gentleman. Clearly, there was a part of him that was capable of more than that.

  Mr. Alden drew in a breath. “I’m afraid I have some matters to attend to. If you’ll excuse me?”

  He turned and walked into the house without another word, leaving the front door open for us to enter behind him.

  “What did you make of that?” I asked Milo in a low voice. “I never would’ve imagined Mr. Alden capable of such anger.”

  “Mr. Alden isn’t the first man to have a heated disagreement with a business associate, but it seemed there was an undertone of violence in that encounter. Of course, we are talking about Americans.”

  I shook my head. “I saw the look in Mr. Alden’s eyes for that instant before he saw us. He looked positively murderous.”

  “I dare say a man may look murderous without being intent upon doing anyone any real harm.”

  I thought of the threat and how he had thrown the man from his house with ease. “We shouldn’t have stood there gawking.”

  He shrugged. “When one resorts to brawling in the streets, I’m afraid one forfeits one’s right to privacy.”