Her expression was almost comical. “Return from England? What do you mean?”
He smiled sadly again. “You recall that my original plan for coming to the United States, in addition to doing some diplomacy for my country, was to purchase breeding stock for my stables. I did not arrange for sufficient capital for that endeavor, so I must return to England to correct that oversight.”
“You can’t mean you’re traveling all the way back to England just so you can buy some horses,” Rosemary practically screeched.
Percy couldn’t help wincing just a bit. “I’ll only be gone a month at the most. By then the news of your broken engagement will have grown old and no one will think it the least bit odd when I begin to pay you court.”
“I don’t care if they think it odd or not,” she pouted. “I don’t want to wait a month.”
“But I’ll have to return to England sooner or later because I must buy some horses to replenish the stables at Hartwood. I told you—”
“And I told you that you can’t go back to England now. If it’s just a matter of money, my father will buy the horses for you.”
Percy expressed an appropriate amount of shock at such an idea. “I can’t believe your father would be willing to do any such thing.”
“He would if we were going to be married,” Rosemary said, obviously figuring it out as she spoke. “He could . . . It would be a wedding present.”
“Like a dowry?” he asked, still uncertain.
“Yes, like a dowry.”
“Have you spoken to him about this?” Percy asked doubtfully.
“Not yet, but he never denies me anything, and if I’m going to marry an earl, he’d be so pleased that he’ll give me anything I want. He can easily afford a few horses.”
“I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift,” Percy claimed.
“Nonsense. I’ll explain everything to my father—”
“After you have broken your engagement, I hope.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, although she clearly hadn’t thought that necessary. “As soon as I speak to Logan, I will discuss this with my father. My parents will be delighted!”
“As will I, my darling,” Percy said, daring to take her hand in both of his. “When I arrived here, I had no idea I would meet the love of my life.”
“And I had no idea I would become a countess!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Oscar Thornton had just returned to his hotel, having attended a matinee at the movie theater. Charlie Chaplin had managed to entertain him with a series of ridiculous antics, but now he faced an evening of utter boredom unless he could find something else to distract him. Only one more week until he could demand his money from Elizabeth Miles. Then he could leave New York for a place where he would be appreciated simply for being rich, which was probably any city other than New York because here you had to be at least a millionaire to get noticed.
Making money would be more difficult now that the war was over, but there were always opportunities for a man who kept his eyes open. He’d be more careful in the future, too. No one was going to take advantage of him ever again.
He stopped at the front desk to pick up his room key, and the clerk also handed him an envelope. “This came for you while you were out, Mr. Thornton.”
He’d been expecting to hear from Vane. The man had sent him a second telegram, acknowledging receipt of the five thousand dollars he’d requested and confirming that he and Berta would be sailing for New York very soon. That had been a week ago, so he expected to see them in New York around the same time he got his money from Bates. This wasn’t a letter from Vane, however. This was a plain envelope with just his name written on it.
The paper, he noted, was expensive and was that a hint of perfume? He’d been careful not to express interest in any of the respectable females he had encountered in New York, and the less-than-respectable ones he had visited wouldn’t be sending him notes on expensive paper.
More than curious now, he carried the envelope up to his room where he could read it in private. No sense giving the staff anything to gossip about. A perfumed note was more than enough.
In his room, he slipped off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and poured himself a glass of whiskey before sitting down to open the mysterious missive.
“Dear Mr. Thornton,” it began. “We have not met, but my cousin has told me much about you. I am grateful for the help you have given me, and I now must impose upon you one last time. After an unfortunate incident, I am unexpectedly in New York and find myself without friends and temporarily without funds. My cousin said I could depend upon you for assistance until he arrives with my belongings. Can you meet me in the tea shop across the street from your hotel on Thursday afternoon at four o’clock? I will be sitting alone and wearing a dark blue dress.” It was signed, “Berta Volker.” Unlike her cousin, she had not yet adopted the Americanized version of her name, apparently.
Thornton stared at the note for a long time trying to figure out what could have gone wrong and why Berta would be in the city already and without Vane or her “belongings,” by which she obviously meant the securities. Finally he realized it was almost four o’clock, and if he wanted to see Berta Volker for himself and get some answers, he should get over to the tea shop. He winced at the thought of going into one of the places where women could meet without the need of a male escort. That meant he’d probably be the only man there, but if Berta was a respectable woman—and he had every reason to believe she was—she’d be guarding her reputation. That explained why she hadn’t made any attempt to meet him at his hotel.
With a weary sigh, he gathered his shoes from where they’d landed and put them on again. He should be eager to meet Miss Volker. She was going to help restore his fortunes. He only wished he didn’t have such a bad feeling. She wasn’t supposed to be in New York yet, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be in New York without Vane.
The tea shop was exactly what he’d expected, small and depressingly feminine. Fortunately, it was nearly empty this time of day, since most women were at home at this hour, preparing supper for their husbands. A lone female in a blue suit sat at a table in the far corner. She looked up expectantly when he entered and gave him a tentative smile.
Ignoring the disapproving frown from the woman behind the counter, Thornton made his way over to the table. “Miss Volker?”
“Mr. Thornton, so good of you to come,” she said in passable English, although her accent was noticeable. “Please sit down. Would you like some tea?”
She had ordered a pot and had a half-empty cup in front of her. An empty cup sat in front of his chair. “No thank you. What happened? How did you get here without Vane?”
She glanced around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then she picked up the pot and filled his cup. “For appearances,” she murmured. She was younger than he’d expected, probably in her twenties, although she’d plainly seen some hard times and was thinner than American women tended to be. The war had been hard on everyone, he supposed. She wasn’t a pretty woman, but not bad looking either. Her clothes were new but not expensive.
“Leo bought a boat. Did he tell you?” she said softly.
“Yes, he said that was the safest thing to do.”
“The crew, they were hard men, but they left us alone. Everything was fine until we stopped in . . . I think the place was called Charles Town.”
“Charleston probably,” he said, thinking of the Southern port.
“Yes, that is it. We needed fuel and food. I was going to stay in my cabin so no one would see me, but Leo comes. He tells me the captain has heard they are going to search the boat and he is afraid they will question my papers. He refuses to take me any farther.”
“Didn’t Vane offer him more money?” Thornton asked angrily.
“Vane?” she echoed in confusion.
“Leo. He c
hanged his name from Volker to Vane.”
“He did? He did not tell me this.”
“It doesn’t matter. What happened then?”
“He told me to pack a small bag and then he took me off the boat before the men came to search. He took me to a train station and bought me a ticket for New York. No one even asked for my papers after that, so I arrived here safely.”
“And where is Vane? And your . . . your luggage?” Mainly the trunk with the false bottom, although he didn’t say that.
“He said he would keep it safe. No one would find my . . . my valuables, and his papers were good so no one would stop him.”
Of course his papers were good. “When is he going to arrive?”
“He says next week, first or second day. He says to tell you he will come to you immediately, but until then, I have no money.”
“Did Vane, I mean Leo, send you off with nothing?” Thornton asked skeptically.
“He gave me a little money, what he could spare, but I have spent it all. I only had a small bag with me, so I needed clothes, and the hotels here cost so much.”
She was right, they did. She’d have to eat in restaurants, too. Silently cursing Vane, he said, “How much do you need?”
Berta looked away and shuddered. “This is so difficult. At home, I never think about money.”
Which was a nice situation to be in. “You need to think about it now.”
“I hate to ask because you have given so much already. Leo should be the one asking.”
He certainly hadn’t hesitated to ask before. “But he isn’t here.”
“I think . . . I will need five thousand dollars.”
Thornton managed not to laugh in her face. Just what hotel was she staying in? And how long did she think it would take Vane to get here? “You shouldn’t need that much for a week, even in New York. Five hundred should be more than enough.”
“I do not understand American money. How much is five hundred compared to five thousand? Leo said I should ask for five thousand.”
“You should only need a couple hundred at most for your hotel, and your meals will be another hundred. That should still give you some spending money, too.”
“But I need new clothes. I cannot wear clothes like this at the Waldorf,” she sniffed, flicking the collar of her suit disdainfully.
“Is that where you’re staying?” he asked in surprise.
“Leo tells me it is the best hotel. I always stay in the best hotel.”
God deliver him from rich women. “You still don’t need five thousand dollars to live in New York for a week.”
“Herr Thornton,” she began stridently, but he silenced her with a gesture.
“No German, please,” he whispered urgently.
She sniffed. “As you say, Mister Thornton, I cannot be seen dressed like an armselig. Did Leo not tell you I am wealthy woman?”
“He did, which is the only reason I agreed to help you,” he said baldly.
“I see. Leo is not very good, is he?”
Thornton didn’t know what she meant by that, so he said nothing.
“I tell Leo I will give him half of my fortune if he bring me to America. He tell me he is giving you half of his part. Is this right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I will change my mind. You are the one who helped me the most, so I will give you half of my fortune if you will help me now.”
“That’s . . . very generous,” Thornton said with some surprise.
“I have no choice. You can see that, I think.”
He did see it. “What about Leo?”
“I will repay what he gave me to escape Germany. He will be happy with that.”
Thornton doubted it very much, but he wasn’t going to stand up for Vane. “All right.”
“And you will give me five thousand dollars.”
Thornton could have agreed, but he saw no point in giving her more than she could possibly spend. In another week, she’d have her securities back and be able to cash them in, which would make her rich enough to buy whatever she liked. Since everything he gave her was now coming out of his share—although his share was twice as big as before—he had no intention of spending any more of it than necessary.
They negotiated back and forth, and in the end he agreed to twenty-five hundred. The bank was closed, so he arranged to meet her there the next morning. In the meantime, he gave her two hundred in cash, which was all he had in his wallet. At least she wouldn’t go hungry.
* * *
—
Elizabeth had just returned from shopping, with a fresh supply of food for her houseguest, when the doorbell rang. Oriel and her baby were already noticeably healthier from just a few days of adequate nourishment. Cybil and Zelda were completely enamored with the baby, whose looks had improved considerably as his little face had filled out. They didn’t seem to mind at all when the baby woke them up in the middle of the night, screaming to be fed. Zelda even took a turn walking him when he refused to settle down again, and Oriel was obviously grateful for the help. Elizabeth couldn’t help thinking Oriel would be glad to leave the entire care of the baby to someone else, but no one could feed him except her, so she didn’t have that option.
The doorbell rang again before Elizabeth even had a chance to set her purchases down in the kitchen. “Coming,” she called, hurrying to answer the door. She saw no sign of Oriel or the baby, which meant that he was probably asleep upstairs. Elizabeth nearly ran to prevent her eager visitor from ringing yet again and possibly waking him up.
Seeing a man’s silhouette through the window, for a moment she thought Gideon might have come to call, but when she opened the door, Logan Carstens stood on her porch. She would have been concerned except for the fact that he was grinning like a lunatic and holding up a piece of paper.
“Noelle wrote back to me!” he cried.
“Shhh!” she cautioned, waving him inside. “Don’t wake the baby.”
Logan’s smile vanished for a few seconds. “Hasn’t Kellogg claimed them yet?”
“Not yet.”
She had just closed the door behind him when they heard Oriel coming down the stairs. She was dressed to go out. “You are here, good,” she said to Elizabeth. “I must leave.” Then she saw Carstens and turned up her nose, muttering something in French.
But Carstens was in too good a mood to be disturbed by anything she might have to say. “Good morning, mademoiselle. You are in good health, I hope.”
Oriel frowned at that. Plainly, she wasn’t prepared to deal with courtesy from him and certainly not cheerfulness, so she chose to simply ignore him. She turned back to Elizabeth. “I will return soon. Little Phillipe, he will sleep now.”
“I hope so,” Elizabeth said as Oriel let herself out of the house.
“Where is she going?” Carstens asked.
“To do some shopping, I think,” Elizabeth said vaguely. “Now come in and tell me what Noelle has to say.”
His good mood restored, Carstens removed his hat and coat, hung them in the hallway, and followed Elizabeth into the parlor. They sat together on the sofa beside the fire, and he tried to hand her the dog-eared envelope. “Here, read it for yourself.”
“I don’t read French, remember?”
“She wrote in English, mostly anyway.”
Elizabeth pulled the letter from the envelope. “How long has it been?”
“Since I mailed my letter? Almost a month to the day. This came in yesterday’s mail, but I didn’t see it until last night. Rosemary had invited me to supper, so I didn’t get home until late.”
“Was Lord Percy there?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist asking.
Logan’s smile dimmed a bit. “No. In fact, I was the only guest, and after supper, Rosemary took me into the parlor and broke our engagement.”
“She did?” Elizabeth cried, hardly able to believe it. “Did she give you a reason?”
“Oh yes,” Carstens reported with satisfaction. “She said that I’m a changed man since I returned from the war, and she doesn’t feel she knows me anymore. She thought it best to release me so we can both find partners more suited to us.”
“Partners?” Elizabeth echoed. “Did she really say that?”
“I’m afraid so. She has changed, too, it seems.”
“And how fortunate that she has. She has saved you the trouble of breaking the engagement yourself.”
“She has, and Elizabeth, I would have had to break it, no matter how ungentlemanly that would be. I knew it the instant I saw this letter from Noelle.”
“So you have no regrets?”
“None at all. I went to see Gideon first thing this morning, to tell him the news, and he sent me straight here because he knew you’d want to hear it, too. Go ahead, read the letter.”
Elizabeth started reading. She had to stop several times where Noelle used a French word to ask Logan its meaning, but long before she’d reached the end, she had gotten the underlying meaning. “She is quite clever, isn’t she?”
“No more clever than you are, I expect. The letter you composed for me was so subtle and discreet, in case she really had written demanding money from me.”
“And lying about the child, but you knew she wouldn’t have done a thing like that, didn’t you?”
“In my heart, yes, I did. I suppose I was just desperate to hear from her in any way at all, so I was willing to believe even that.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to now. So here she says she is puzzled about who could have written you such a letter and signed her name.”
“And now we know the answer to that question,” Carstens said with a note of triumph.
“Yes, we do, but she was nevertheless pleased to hear from you. And she is concerned about your welfare and obviously missed you very much, but how interesting that she manages to convey all of that without once asking for anything in return.”
City of Schemes Page 19
