“Don’t be silly, Kate,” said the woman named Rose. “That wouldn’t keep a baby’s hands tied. Use this.” She thrust her scarf at Alex.
The men in the crowd finally caught on to the purpose of Alex’s request. Several of them nudged Rose aside and handed Alex items appropriate for securely tying up a large, drunken man. When Mr. Finney’s alcohol-fogged wits allowed him to understand that Alex had deftly tied his hands together—he’d had lots of practice on bulls of another variety—he set up a roar of vile curses and epithets.
Without pausing in his deft movements—he had started binding the drunken man’s feet together—Alex said out of the corner of his mouth, “Somebody give me a gag.” Several men’s and ladies’ handkerchiefs were thrust forward instantly. Alex grabbed at the one he saw first and jammed it into Mr. Finney’s mouth. When he was through binding and gagging Mr. Finney, he stood up, taking Kate’s father with him by means of Rose’s scarf, which he’d tied around the man’s neck. Alex thought it was fitting, and if Mr. Finney struggled and managed to strangle himself thereby, that would be fitting, too, not to mention convenient.
“All right, you son of a bitch.” He heard Kate gasp at his use of such foul language, but didn’t care. “We’re going to wait right here, and as soon as the police come, I’m sending you with them. Tomorrow, after you sober up and before you can get sprung from the clink, I’m filing charges.”
Mr. Finney’s eyes bulged, although Alex judged the emotion behind the bulge to be ire rather than worry. Because he was so furious himself, he shook Mr. Finney, hard. Fortunately for all, Rose’s scarf held up under the pressure of such violence. Mr. Finney’s face turned an alarming shade of puce. Alex didn’t care about that, either. Still holding Kate’s father in what he wouldn’t have minded if it had turned out to be a death grip, he turned to Kate. “Are you all right, Kate? Do you need anything?” Shaking her father for emphasis, he added, “This ape won’t be bothering you again tonight.”
She shook her head. “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t need anything. Thank you.”
Like hell she didn’t need anything. She looked as if she were about to faint and her eyes were huge, too, with what Alex judged to be a combination of shock, anger, and mortification. Potent combination, that, and he deeply regretted the fact that Kate was forced to endure it. Of course, it was all her father’s fault. He actually grinned when he realized that’s what Kate had told him in the first place.
“I swear to you, Kate, that I’ll take care of this. I won’t let this man terrorize you or your mother again.” Even if he had to kill the bastard with his own bare hands. He didn’t add that part, but he silently vowed it, to himself and to Kate.
This time she nodded, although Alex clearly read the doubt on her vividly expressive countenance. Little did she know that Alex never promised things he failed to deliver. She’d learn, though; he’d see to it.
Someone had evidently hurried to fetch a policeman, because a grumbling man in uniform showed up at that precise moment. Alex presented Mr. Finney to the uniform with a vicious thrust forward. Mr. Finney staggered, but Alex held him upright by the scarf around his neck. As soon as the policeman saw who was behind the drunkard, he stopped grumbling and straightened.
“Jaysus,” the policeman muttered. “What’s this? Finney’s been at it again, has he?”
Before Kate or anyone else could respond to this less-than-caring commentary by the law, Alex said in a voice of ice, “Yes. Finney’s been at it again, and this time I’m going to make sure he never has a chance to hurt his daughter or his wife again.”
The policeman frowned. “And you are?” He didn’t take Mr. Finney from Alex’s care, a fact that fueled Alex’s irritation to a degree he hadn’t believed possible. Did Kate and the people in this neighborhood have to endure this sort of thing from official police representatives all the time?
Stupid question. Of course they did.
“My name is Alex English, and I’m one of the directors of the World’s Columbian Exposition.” The assertion wasn’t entirely untruthful. Alex was one of the directors of the fair’s Agricultural Forum. “I expect the Chicago Police Department to do its duty in this instance, and I intend to make sure they do it. So if you’re not interested in doing your duty, I’ll find an officer who is.” He gave the policeman a toothy grin and hoped the idiot would choke on it. “And I’m sure the police commissioner will be intrigued to find out how his deputies honor their responsibilities to protect the community they’ve been hired to serve, as well.”
He was pleased to see the uniform swallow hard. “No need for that, Mr. English. I’ll take Finney into custody right now.”
“And you won’t let him out again, will you? I’m going to the station first thing tomorrow to press charges. He attacked me. If he had succeeded, I’m sure he’d have attempted to murder his daughter. Again. We can’t have that sort of thing, can we?” Another toothy grin produced another hard swallow.
“No, sir.”
“Right. I thought you’d see the situation my way. Remember, don’t let him go. I’ll file charges tomorrow. You won’t fail me in this, will you?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Charges. Tomorrow. Yes, sir.”
“Charges. Tomorrow,” Alex repeated in order to make sure this flat-foot beat copper didn’t forget his instructions.
“Tomorrow.”
“Morning.
“Morning.”
Alex nodded once. “Good. Take this creature off.”
The policeman was so intimidated, he saluted. Alex turned to scan the crowd, which had grown considerably as events transpired. A couple of men glanced at him, lifting their eyebrows in question. He nodded back, and the two men took up flanking positions beside the officer and Mr. Finney. Unless Alex missed his guess, the two aimed to escort Finney to the station in order to make sure the policeman carried out Alex’s request. Their show of support, which he supposed they’d offered because they liked and respected Kate and deplored her father’s behavior, gratified him.
As soon as the excitement died down, people drifted away, and Alex found himself standing next to Schneiders Meats with Kate beside him. She was shivering, although the evening was warm. Without even thinking about it, he took her arm and leaned down to inspect her face. He was worried about her state of mental health.
She was pale as death, and her blue eyes were dilated wide and looked almost black in the scanty gas lighting in the neighborhood. She licked her lips. “I—I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know he’d found out where I live.”
He stared at her for almost thirty seconds, trying to assimilate the meaning of her words. She was sorry? That her father had discovered her place of residence, such as it was? Good Gad.
Ales was experiencing an almost overwhelming compulsion to lift her into his arms and kiss her until all of her cares flew away, so he straightened, hoping the compulsion would die soon. “There’s no need for you to apologize, Kate. Your father is at fault, not you.”
She nodded again, although she didn’t appear to be sure of herself. No longer was she the infuriating Kate Finney who tackled the world and everything in it single-handed with a hell-bent independence that drove Alex crazy. She bore very resemblance to that Kate right now. At the moment, she looked like a young woman who, if not defeated, had at least suffered a severe blow to her self-confidence.
Because his protective, not to mention his carnal, urges unsettled him, he sounded more gruff than he intended when he spoke again. “Here. Let me escort you to your apartment.”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Damn it, Kate Finney, stop fighting me.” And, after swearing not once, but twice in a single evening, Alex picked Kate up off the sidewalk and cradled her in his arms. “Where do you live?”
“Upstairs.” She was breathless with shock and indignation.
“Stop struggling.”
To Alex’s great surprise, she did. She released a huge sigh and subsided in
his arms. He found out why she’d done so when he walked up the narrow, dark stairway. It wasn’t because she liked being in his arms. It was because she feared he’d lose his footing, tumble downstairs, and kill them both if she kept struggling.
The place reminded Alex of a fright house in a circus. The walls seemed to close in on him. The staircase couldn’t have been more than a foot wide. No gas lights illumined Kate’s place of residence. No friendly, homey smells of cooking food greeted her. The area above the butcher shop reeked of decayed meat, blood, and bone, and Alex would have gagged if he didn’t have such rigid control over himself. When he reached the floor above ground level, he blinked into the blackness, squinted around, and thought he discerned two doors. “Which one?” he asked through clenched teeth. He hated knowing this was where Kate lived.
“The one on the right.” Her voice sounded funny; soft and strained, as if she, too, were trying not to gag. Or cry. By this time, Alex had no doubt at all that Kate was full to the brim with tears. That she’d only shed a few in his presence, he chalked up to a miracle of fate and Kate’s own strength of character.
“Is it locked?”
He felt her shake her head, so he grabbed the knob, pushed the door open, and walked inside, still holding Kate. Although he didn’t want to, he set her on the floor. A strange feeling of loss and distress filled him when she immediately scuttled away from him. He heard her moving in the dark. A scratch of flint and a spark preceded a burst of illumination from the kerosene lantern she’d lit. He supposed it made sense that she knew her way around in the dark, since she probably did this same thing, without the preceding melodrama, every day of her life.
The odor of the butcher shop wasn’t as strong in Kate’s flat as it had been on the staircase. Alex looked around with interest, and was not surprised to see that she kept her home neat as a pin and decorated as well as a woman of Kate’s means could decorate it. She’d gone to the trouble of placing bowls of sweet-smelling leaves and dried flower petals about, probably in an attempt to disguise the smell of rotting meat. It didn’t quite achieve its goal, but Alex felt a spurt of wholly irrational pride on Kate’s behalf that she’d tried so hard to improve her surroundings and succeeded so well, in spite of everything.
“It’s not much, but it’s home to me.”
Alex glanced over and found Kate standing in front of the one window in the room. He suspected she’d made the pretty chintz curtains herself. She’d been through a lot today, he knew, and now she looked both defiant and ashamed. He could understand the defiance part.
“You’ve done a wonderful job in making a room into a home, Kate. You ought to be proud of your achievements.”
She didn’t move, although she did frown slightly. “Yeah, right.”
Alex tried not to allow his exasperation to seep into his voice. “I mean it.” Although he didn’t feel much like it, he smiled at her. “You’ve finally convinced me. None of this is your fault. And your father is a bad man. A truly rotten man, as a matter of fact. You’re right. I was wrong.”
To his surprise, she bowed her head. “I’m sorry.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper. “I didn’t want this to happen.”
“Good Gad.” He couldn’t stand it any longer. With two long strides, Alex crossed the room and took Kate in his arms. He held her close. “Kate Finney, you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
“I am not.”
“Don’t argue with me. You don’t know how many infuriating women I’ve met.”
“I guess not.”
Alex’s heart swelled when she gave a soft laugh. She didn’t laugh enough. “You’re also the bravest.”
“I am?”
She lifted her face to look at him, and Alex saw tears in her eyes and a tremulous smile on her face. “Yes,” he said. “You are.” And he kissed her.
# # #
Kate was as limp as a rag. The door had just closed behind Alex—he hadn’t allowed her to leave her room in order to see him downstairs, even though she knew how dark the staircase was and how unaccustomed to her neighborhood Alex was.
He’d kissed her. Kate had never allowed a man to kiss her before. She was glad she’d waited. Her legs felt shaky when she walked from the door, which Alex had instructed her to lock, and went to the piece of furniture that Kate used as both a bed and a sofa. She’d made lots of pretty cushions that she propped against the wall during the day in order to allow people who visited—and Kate had her fair share of visitors—to sit and take tea with her.
Her hands shook when she began removing the cushions to the chair where she stashed them overnight. After dropping two of them, Kate decided she wasn’t up to making her bed for the night before she’d digested the implications of Alex’s actions.
He’d saved her from her father. He’d taken charge of a situation that would certainly have become ugly, perhaps even deadly, if he hadn’t been there. He’d probably saved her life.
And then he’d kissed her.
“Oh, Lord, please help me.” It had been a long time since Kate had uttered a heart-felt prayer, but she meant that one.
Sitting on the edge of her sofa-bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Kate looked around her room. It was a pretty pathetic place, especially if she compared it to the Congress Hotel, where Alex had taken her to eat. Rather, he’d taken her to dine there. Kate supposed she’d actually dined that evening. On beef Stroganoff.
But Alex was right, too, in that she’d done a darned good job in decorating what would otherwise have been even more forlorn a room than it was now. Kate hadn’t very often had her efforts to improve herself and her surroundings acknowledged by anybody outside her family. Her heart lifted slightly now, when she realized Alex had meant his comments sincerely.
Not only that, but unlike most times when somebody with money and power said something nice to her, she didn’t reject his praise. Rather, she figuratively clasped his praise to her bosom and basked, as she’d basked in his embrace. She hadn’t wanted to let him go.
Kate knew it was fortunate for her virtue that Alex was a man of such firm, not to say stubborn, principles. If he wasn’t, she was sure she’d have succumbed completely, thereby proving herself to be no better than her circumstances. Kate had determined when she was no bigger than a minute that she’d rise above them. At the moment, she found irony in the fact that it had been Alex who’d kept her determination intact. Not to mention her virginity.
Oh, but that kiss. Kate put two fingers to her lips, savoring the remembrance of Alex’s lips there.
“You’d better savor it, Kate Finney, because it will never happen again.” She spoke to herself with a good deal of force, because she didn’t want to be disappointed when Alex vanished from her life.
She knew she was already too late.
# # #
Alex knew it was probably unwise of him to walk back to the Congress Hotel. The neighborhood surrounding Kate Finney’s flat teemed with the worst elements in Chicago. Nevertheless, he told Frank to drive the carriage there without him in it.
“Are you sure, sir?” Frank was clearly distressed by Alex’s command.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Alex snapped. “I’m going to walk.”
Dubiously, Frank said, “Yes, sir.”
Alex didn’t appreciate the expression on Frank’s face. He probably thought that Alex planned to spend the night with Kate. As if he’d ever besmirch Kate Finney or any other woman. He glared at Frank, whose cheekiness was becoming absolutely insufferable, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and set out toward the Congress Hotel before Frank had a chance to do more than release the brake.
How could he have lost control so completely as to have kissed Kate? Alex had never experienced such loss of control before; until tonight, he hadn’t thought he had it in him to lose control, as a matter of fact. He knew better now. When he was in Kate’s presence, all of his breeding seemed to desert him.
But, how could he have done such a stupid thing
? If he’d succumbed to temptation with any of the women his mother had thrust in his way over the years, he’d be married by this time. But Kate Finney? How in the name of all that’s holy could he marry a girl from the slums?
He stopped walking abruptly, causing a couple of disreputable-looking passers-by to stare at him. He glowered back, and the strangers sped up.
Had he really thought such a priggish thing about Kate?
Yes, by Gad, he had. Scowling at another couple of poorly dressed members of a society that lived on a lower scale than his own and who scurried off in a hurry, Alex experienced a moment of self-revelation that he didn’t want to acknowledge because it did him no credit.
Glaring after the retreating men, another unhappy realization struck him. Those men, and the others he’d scared off with his foul mood, were afraid of him. They were afraid of him, and not the other way around. Alex knew their fear wasn’t based on his physical state, which was fit but not especially grand, but because he, as a man of means, could command more worldly power than they.
He, Alex English, could determine their freedom to walk the streets of this city, because the law would pay attention to Alex English. The law, as evidenced by his own experience this evening, paid no attention to the Kate Finneys of the world, unless someone in Alex’s station paid attention first.
And he’d just rejected the mere possibility of marrying Kate, a woman whom he admired more than almost any other woman in the world, because she’d been born in impoverished circumstances. He’d been told, and he’d believed, that the citizens of the United States could achieve anything if they worked hard enough for long enough.
It had become painfully clear to Alex in the past several days that this time-honored adage was only true to a degree. If one were a female, one’s circumstances defined one’s station in life. There were those, like Kate Finney, who fought the world and its inequities like maddened cats, but they were still circumscribed by their sex and stations in life.
Bicycle Built for Two Page 15
