“Not too disheveled, then? Rex?”
She shook his arm to get his attention. He was still staring, still aching too.
He tried to assess her objectively and shook his head. The workmen could not possibly look at both of them and mistake the flush in May’s cheeks or the bee-stung swell of her lips. “They’ll know I kissed you, but soon everyone will also know I mean to marry you.”
“Soon?”
He loved the question. Adored it so much so that he wanted to kiss her again. But first he wanted to show her the hotel.
Like a child taking in one of Sedgwick’s elaborate holiday window displays, May darted her gaze around eagerly as Rex led her into the Thorndike property, soon to be the home of the Pinnacle Hotel. Workmen were busy conducting a symphony of bangs, thuds, and curt shouts while they attended to everything from restoring brickwork in the walls, to cutting and sanding wood to create an elaborate entry arch, to laying tiles in an intricate pattern in the lobby’s waiting area.
When his foreman spotted them, the man tipped his hat and nudged a young workman to clear a path through to the stairwell.
“Watch your step as we proceed,” Rex warned May. “This is very much a work in progress, and you’ll find dust and debris on every level.” He still didn’t trust the overhead beams the men were working on. Even the bricklayers were occasionally lackadaisical about where they left the tools of their trade. Exposing May to the dangers of the site didn’t sit well with him, but he intended for a very brief tour. More than anything, he wanted to show her one special room.
“The stairs are beautiful,” May said as she bent at the waist to inspect the glint of color in the granite. “Shouldn’t they be covered so that they aren’t damaged during construction?”
“The men know when to take care.” The fact that she was concerned about the stairs, or any part of the hotel, caused a jolt of pleasure in the center of his chest.
“Are they made of marble?”
“Granite imported from Italy.”
His architect unfurled several sheets of blueprints and floorplans, and they stood side by side as the gentleman gesticulated and explained how they would lay in the electricity. She was especially fascinated with a sketch of the massive dynamo generators that would power the hotel. Rex pointed skyward, and her eyes followed the gesture up to where a soon-to-be electrified chandelier base had already been installed.
After she thoroughly perused each drawing, Rex led May up one more level.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’re an impatient woman,” he teased.
“We both are.” She grinned up at him. “Do you think it will make for a terrible marriage?”
“I think it’ll make for a very active one. At least I hope it will.”
May thumped him on the arm and laughed, a light, sweet sound that echoed in the empty high-ceilinged stairwell.
“Here we are.” Rex pushed aside two long tarps draped over the entryway.
“Oh my goodness! It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rex couldn’t have held back his grin if he’d tried. It was an unrivaled compliment from an American heiress, who’d dined in Newport mansions and socialized with the wealthiest families in New York, to say that she’d never seen anything like the unfinished ballroom he’d envisioned with her in mind. Perhaps the best compliment he’d ever received.
She moved into the room, picked a spot near the center, and spun around. “Is it just my imagination or are the walls glittering?”
The space wasn’t half of what he hoped it would be when finished. The floor had been laid but not yet fully lacquered and polished, and the walls had yet to receive finishing touches. Only the first layer of paint had been applied. Several more would be needed to achieve a true Tiffany glaze.
“The designer used a special paint for the first coat on the walls. It contains flecks of mica that catch the light.”
“It’s magnificent.”
“Eventually, he’ll add layers of blue, green, and gold to achieve the final color.”
“Just like your eyes.”
Rex had never been bashful. Sheepishness didn’t serve in the orphanage, so he’d pushed past fear and forced himself to be strong. But May spoke of the color of his eyes with the same tone of admiration she’d used for a great work of art. It chipped at his defenses. If there was a bit of humility left in him, this woman would find it.
“I actually thought the blue would match your eyes.” That seemed to thrill her, and he liked being the reason for her smile and the wash of pink in her cheeks.
“I want to meet your designer.” She met his gaze boldly, as if challenging him. “If you don’t mind.”
“Why would I? The Pinnacle will be ours. Your input, especially considering your skill in art, will be invaluable.”
“And if you loathe my ideas?”
He wouldn’t. Not only did he want to indulge her, but he also trusted her instincts.
“Then I’ll look forward to you convincing me.”
May stepped toward him, all confident, seductive woman. In that moment, he could see that she was right. She had changed. Not in the essential ways. The lady still lit up a room like no one he’d ever met, and her ability to look at the world around her with a sense of wonder hadn’t waned, but she exuded self-assurance now, a mettle he’d suspected she possessed but now saw on full display. May had only offered to defy her father years before. Now she was determined to act. To marry him—an orphan turned businessman—rather than a duke or an earl.
“Will you require a great deal of convincing, Mr. Leighton?”
She approached until her chest snugged against his, warming him from head to toe. Her floral scent sweetened his every breath.
“I just might, Miss Sedgwick.”
Rex was in the very pleasant process of bowing his head to take her lips when men’s voices echoed in the ballroom.
“We’ll put the scaffolding over here. Ah, excuse us, Mr. Leighton.”
May laughed but didn’t pull away.
“We’ll leave you to it, gentlemen.” Rex took May’s hand, unable to stop touching her despite the amused glances of his workmen. He’d shown her the ballroom. Now it was time to face her father.
“Wait.” May pulled him to a stop. “Would you show me the dynamos that will power the hotel?”
“They’re in a yard behind the building.” Rex wasn’t certain May would be interested in trudging out to the crowded lot, and he glanced down at her questioningly. But she was already tugging him down the stairs.
“I want to see them.” She clasped her hands as if he was about to show her a precious medieval triptych or an enormous diamond. Which reminded him that he needed to buy her a ring. A large one, as grand as anything an earl or duke could have given her.
They proceeded down the stairs and out a rear door of the building. London had turned gray. Sunlight hid behind the clouds, and the piles of bricks, tiles, slabs of granite, and sacks of plaster made for quite a dingy mess. Among the clutter of building materials, two dynamo machines towered up like hunchbacked monsters under wide tarps. He lifted the covering on one.
May gasped. “It’s so intricate—and gigantic. Where will you put them?”
“They’ll go in a sub-basement of the hotel and be maintained by a team of engineers.” He approached to expose more of the machine for her inspection. “Two more are on the way. We don’t need four to electrify the hotel, but I decided secondary generators should be on hand in case they’re required. They’ll generate enough electricity to sell to other businesses in Mayfair.”
May cast him an approving look. Generating income from a new enterprise was a skill she would have learned to appreciate from her father. Business, and their concern for May’s happiness, might be the only things on which Rex and Sedgwick would ever agree.
“And it’s safe?” she asked, echoing a question Rex had heard half a dozen times before.
“Complet
ely, especially in the hands of skilled engineers. I plan to hire several of them.”
May approached and took his arm. She looked up at the building, her eyes aglow. “I can see it. Even now I can envision the finished hotel, full of life, every room filled and light pouring through the windows.”
As Rex smiled at May’s awestruck expression, movement just beyond the fence surrounding the yard caught his eye. Through a half-open gate, he spied a man. Fine clothes, but dirty, threadbare, and poorly mended, as George Cross’s suit had been. The man threw his cigarette to the ground the moment he noticed Rex watching him. Then he stepped forward, facing Rex fully, and planted his feet wide. Pulling his coat lapel aside, the stranger revealed the unmistakable grip of a revolver, its metal trigger glinting in a ray of sunlight escaped from the clouds.
Rex turned to May and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you into a carriage. You go ahead to your father’s press event, and I will meet you there.”
“Why must I go?” May asked with a touch of peevishness in her tone. “There must be a good deal left to see.”
“Next time. In a few weeks, the ballroom floor will be polished. You can teach me how to waltz.” Rex put an arm out to guide her toward the entrance of the hotel. Glancing back, he noted his observer had been joined by another man. If the two had been sent as spies, they were certainly brazen about their work.
May stopped and turned around to embrace him. “Come as quickly as you can.”
He nodded. He’d agree to anything to get her away from the men George Cross had sent to watch him.
The moment May was safely settled into a cab, Rex stomped back through the building toward the rear entrance where he’d spotted Cross’s thugs. They no longer lingered in the alley, but he slipped his knife from his pocket and flipped the blade free as he approached the fence.
As soon as he stepped into the cobbled alley, a fist burst toward his face. He ducked left, swinging on the burlier of the two men. The skinny one approached from his left, wielding his own short blade.
When the thin man made a grab for him, Rex sidestepped, brandishing his stiletto to stave the man off.
“Cross sent us. Give over.” The burly one held out a massive fist, then unfurled his fingers to reveal a dirty palm. “Says you owe him.”
The thin man started feinting back and forth, as if looking for a way to get near. Rex tossed his knife into his left hand and shot out with his right, catching Mr. Thin on the jaw. Whether from surprise or his slight frame, the blow landed the man on his backside, and Mr. Burly moved in.
Rex pointed his blade at the larger man’s throat. “Mr. Cross and I disagree. Take your friend and deliver a message. I owe George Cross nothing.”
Chapter Nineteen
A CLUSTER OF ladies and gentlemen, mostly gentleman, gathered around the podium near a dilapidated building on the corner of Oxford Street. This was the site May’s father had chosen for the new Sedgwick’s. Mr. Graves, eager to garner interest and support for the new store, had arranged for a few journalists and guests to come and hear an announcement regarding the project. The reporters stood near the front of the crowd, pencils poised, and her father had just stepped up to address the gathering. Mr. Graves had worked a miracle by wooing her father away from his nocturnal lifestyle for this early morning event.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming today,” her father began in his man-of-commerce voice. “More importantly, I hope you’ll come back on Sedgwick’s opening day and buy something!”
Ladies tittered and gentlemen guffawed as if her father meant the comment as a jest, but May knew he was serious. In addition to the “customer is always right” philosophy he’d learned from the great Marshall Field in Chicago, she’d often heard her father say that a salesman must never be afraid to ask a customer to buy his product. Despite the British tendency toward subtlety in their advertising, May had seen ample evidence that her father’s way worked.
“As you know,” he continued, “Sedgwick’s has long been one of the most trusted and well-respected department stores in New York and Chicago. When my darling daughter, May, told me she wished to come to England and make an aristocrat her husband, I decided to embrace London too.”
Her father’s declaration drew dozens of gazes May’s way. And none of the onlookers found her smiling as a loving, supportive daughter would. She glared at her father from her spot near the back of the crowd. He knew very well that she no longer intended to marry an aristocrat.
He seemed oblivious to her scowl. “Now it is time for me to return to New York.”
May gasped, and reporters shot their hands in the air as her belly sank.
He wouldn’t look at her. Her father directed his gaze toward those directly in front of him. “My daughter wishes to make London her home, and so it is a fitting home for this new Sedgwick’s too. I leave the store in her capable hands.”
May’s mind went fuzzy, her thoughts blurred. None of her father’s words made sense. The buzzing noises of the crowd matched the sound in her head.
“She will be guided by my longtime associate, Douglas Graves.” Her father pointed to his partner.
Mr. Graves nodded and then sought her in the crowd, staring directly at her, lines furrowing across his brow.
“Today we break ground,” her father went on. “By year’s end, May Sedgwick will welcome you to the greatest shopping emporium London has ever seen. You have my promise, ladies and gentlemen.”
With that, her father turned and grasped a decorative polished shovel from Mr. Graves. He stepped to the left of the podium and lifted the shovel for a newspaper man, who raised a shoebox-shaped wooden box and pulled a lever. When her father dug a ceremonial pile of dirt from the patch of ground in front of the building, a round of polite applause commenced and ended quickly. Reporters huddled around him, shouting questions over each other’s heads.
One man rushed toward her. “Miss Sedgwick, can you tell us any of your plans for the new shop?”
“Are you still out to catch a duke, Miss Sedgwick?” another jostled forward to ask.
“Will you continue to oversee Sedgwick’s if you marry?”
That question pushed May into action. She needed to speak to her father, though she could barely see him past the two black-suited journalists in front of her. Despite a polite “excuse me” to each, neither seemed inclined to budge. When she elbowed her way past, a man in the group facing her father stepped back. His body bumped hers, propelling her off balance.
As she lost her footing and stumbled, May came up against a solid male barrier behind her.
Rex. He wrapped his arm around her middle and then tapped the shoulder of the man who’d bumped into her.
“Push her again, and I’ll push you into the Thames.” Rex’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. He’d stepped close, flush enough to warm her from behind.
The gentleman turned on them with a contrite grimace. “Sorry, miss,” he offered, touching a hand to the brim of his top hat.
May turned in Rex’s arms. “You just arrived. It’s too soon to start a fight.”
“What did I miss?” Rex nudged his chin toward her father.
May glanced up to where he stood at the front of the crowd. Reporters were still hemming him in, and she could only make out the tip of his black top hat.
“He’s shocked everyone.” Her voice sounded as wobbly as her legs felt.
“How so?”
“He’s leaving London and going back to New York.” May swallowed hard. “He says he’s leaving me to oversee the London Sedgwick’s.”
Rex’s verdigris eyes went wide, and then he shifted his gaze to the ground. “Does he know I asked you to marry me?”
May moved closer, placing a hand on his chest. “Yes, I told him last evening.”
Rex’s gaze was unreadable when he looked at her. “He wasn’t pleased, I take it.”
“He didn’t dissuade me.” May tugged at Rex’s lapel. “Nothing he says will alter my de
cision.”
“Not even this? Not even leaving you the store?”
May still hadn’t made sense of her father’s announcement. The prospect of running the store, of managing a business, even with Mr. Graves’s guidance, thrilled and terrified her. Amid jumbled feelings, her love for Rex was an anchor. None of her father’s plans could change her heart.
When she said nothing, Rex clasped her hand and moved forward, clearing a path to her father. He didn’t need to elbow or nudge. The height and breadth of him convinced the men ahead to move aside.
When they drew to the front row, one newspaper man glanced at her before asking, “If your daughter’s still worth her million-dollar dowry, Mr. Sedgwick, why hasn’t she married an aristocrat yet?”
“She’s worth much more.” Rex spoke loud enough to draw the attention of the young journalist. “Take it from the man who intends to marry her without a dowry.”
May felt the pinprick of her father’s gaze as he stared at her and Rex, arm in arm, facing the four or five reporters who’d now turned their attention from questioning him to quizzing them.
“Are you betrothed to this gentleman, Miss Sedgwick?”
Rex gripped her arm tighter when she turned to look up at him. His face had tensed into grim lines, and May barely resisted the urge to smooth her fingers across the lines slashing his brow. She’d have years to take away his doubts, to show him that he was the only man she’d ever wanted.
“Yes, I certainly am.”
“And your name, sir?”
“His name is Rex Leighton, one of London’s most successful entrepreneurs.” Mr. Graves stepped in front of her father to draw up next to Rex.
“You’re an American, aren’t you, Mr. Leighton? Yet you’ve chosen to make all of your money in London.”
“I like London. She’s been very good to me.”
A reporter with a box camera piped up. “You’ll be content without a title, Miss Sedgwick?”
One Dangerous Desire (Accidental Heirs) Page 18
