by Joanna Shupe
Joe left the ring and O’Reilly pushed off the ropes and sauntered forward. “I’ve been waitin’ for ya,” he said through a thick Irish accent.
“Is that so?” Phillip shook out his arms to keep them loose and warm.
“Yeah. I know who ya are, Mr. Mansfield. Misters Croker and Keene asked me t’ give ya a special hello.”
Ah. Phillip couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. Tammany Hall had eyes everywhere—especially on their enemies. Obviously Phillip’s refusal to allow them more control over the hotel construction hadn’t gone over well and they’d discovered his secret pastime.
He raised his gloves and anchored his feet. “I guess you’d best get to it, then.”
The hansom arrived at the construction site just as the pale rose dawn streaked across the Manhattan sky. Eva stepped to the ground, her boot heels sinking into the damp earth courtesy of yesterday’s late rain, and paid the driver. She had watched the drizzle from her bedroom window for hours, unable to sleep. With excavation scheduled to begin today, her nerves were frazzled, her body filled with an almost paralyzing anticipation. This project must go smoothly.
There were a host of things to worry about. Mr. Milliken hadn’t seemed particularly friendly during their brief chat and she expected no quarter given there. The crew would likely take Milliken’s lead, which meant many battles ahead of her.
Then there was Phillip, whose mere presence served as both a distraction and an irritant. How was she supposed to work with a large, handsome man lurking over her shoulder, doubting her at every turn?
Focus on the building and everything else will fall into place.
Her father’s words came back to her, the sage advice he’d often repeated during difficult projects. The reminder helped to ease the panic rioting in her stomach this morning. She could do this. She would not let her father—or all the people counting on this project—down. This would be E. M. Hyde’s most prestigious, best-known building to date . . . and her secret achievement.
She merely had to survive it. Stand her ground. Assert her knowledge and her intuition.
Most important, she had to stay away from Phillip Mansfield.
Resolved, she slipped through the temporary wooden partition erected to keep the public out of the area during construction. Four giant steam shovels stood silent, waiting, ready to dig toward the granite bedrock underneath the island, and a grin overtook her face. This was the first step in transforming her flat drawings into the most gorgeous hotel America had ever seen.
“Hello, Eva.”
She started at the familiar deep voice, her hand flying to her throat as she turned around. My goodness, where had he come from? Phillip Mansfield stood behind her, perfectly turned out for such an ungodly hour, hands resting in his trouser pockets, an amused twist to his lips.
Good heavens. A dark bruise marred his cheek, a small cut above his left brow. Brown hair had been slicked off his face as if he’d just emerged from the bath, a suit of slate gray hugging his large frame.
She stared, dumbfounded at the sight of his ravaged profile. “What on earth happened to you?”
“Nothing serious. Just a minor accident. I hadn’t expected you here this early.”
The smooth switch in topic wasn’t lost on her. Was he uncomfortable discussing the injury? Had he been in a fight?
None of your business, Eva.
“I hadn’t expected you either. It’s hardly a decent hour for society scions to be out and about.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you but this scion rises early.”
Of course he did. Why was he always so unexpected? Each of her fiancés had slept all day and caroused all night. “I had trouble sleeping and decided to come here.”
“Nervous?”
“Hardly.” A lie, but she would never admit it to him, not even if someone held a hammer to her head. “More like eager. What is your excuse?”
“The same.” He stepped beside her and they both stared out at the vast empty lot. The hotel would span the entire block of Fifth Avenue between Thirty-Fifth and Thirty-Sixth Streets. “I love to see the bare ground right before we begin. To envision the possibilities.”
She had just been thinking the same. “Me as well.”
“Shall we walk? Examine the dirt a bit?”
She nodded, grateful for an excuse to start moving. Between Phillip’s unexpected presence and her first-day nerves, she was nearly vibrating with tension.
He took her arm and began leading her around the perimeter. “I’m curious. Your father’s plans . . . did you contribute any ideas?”
Eva swallowed and considered her words carefully. This was a slippery conversation to have with one’s employer. She couldn’t admit to a great deal of meddling, else Mansfield would question the source of each and every decision. He wanted the great E. M. Hyde on the cornerstone, not Hyde & Hyde. Or, God forbid, Lady Eva Hyde. “Here and there,” she hedged. “He is generously receptive to my suggestions.”
“You’ve studied with him a long time?”
Warm memories flooded her. She had loved watching her father sketch, seeing him pluck an idea from his mind and realize it on paper. The smell of graphite pencils, the feel of his compass and wooden rule. The way he’d asked her opinion when trying to work through a problem. “I trailed him nearly every place he went when I was little. I was forever driving my governess mad with efforts to evade her. When he realized I was serious about learning, he started teaching me himself.”
“How old were you then?”
“Eleven when I started following him. Fourteen when he finally decided to teach me.” Eight years ago now, which seemed so long in some respects. A lot had changed in that time.
“So you traveled around Europe with him?”
“Quite a bit, yes. Harder after my debut because of my responsibilities in London.” Like her father’s illness.
“Responsibilities, meaning fiancés?”
There was an edge to his voice that caught her attention. Of course he would bring that up, the Lady Unlucky reputation that threatened his hotel. “Yes, that was one of them.”
“More like three of them,” he muttered under his breath.
Eva gritted her teeth. Yes, there had been three, but she did not appreciate having her pain and humiliation mocked. Unfortunate that she couldn’t utter the proper set down burning her tongue, however. She needed this project, both the money and the notoriety that would result. Arguing with her employer, who already had enough reasons to discharge her, seemed unwise in the extreme.
So she neatly turned it around. “I hadn’t assumed you to be the jealous type.”
“Three dead fiancés hardly inspire jealousy—they inspire concern.”
She patted his arm. “Don’t worry—you’re safe as long as we never become betrothed.” Without waiting on a retort, she strode away, intending to focus on the work instead of this maddening conversation with an even more maddening man.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said behind her.
“Yes, which is why I am choosing to ignore you.”
He made a sound, one that closely resembled a laugh. “You are a stubborn woman.”
She spun to face him, the heel of her boot grinding into the soft dirt. “Why is it men call a woman stubborn when she disagrees with him? Are we not allowed to know our own minds?”
A challenging light flashed in his dark gaze as he closed the distance between them. She had the strangest urge to back up, to retreat, but held her ground instead, tilting her head back when he stepped in close. His familiar smell—clean, woodsy soap combined with summer sunshine—filled her nostrils and caused her heart to pound beneath her corset.
“If you believe your intelligence and stubbornness are unattractive to me, think again. I cannot shake the memories of the brave and bold woman I encountered on the ship, the lady whom I could hardly keep my hands off. Need I demonstrate—?”
The wooden gate creaked as it slid open and Eva inst
antly took a step, putting distance between her and Phillip. She didn’t need the crew to see her speaking intimately with the hotel owner. Her path was rocky enough without adding that mess to the mix.
Yet part of her wondered what he’d been about to say. He would demonstrate . . . what? The range of possibilities caused gooseflesh to erupt along the surface of her skin. A ridiculous reaction, considering they had agreed their relationship was to remain professional. Distant. Respectful.
Under no circumstances would she again find herself in a dark room with his hands working magic under her skirts. And if that thought caused a pang of disappointment in her belly, it was best ignored.
Thoughts of seduction quickly fled as the crew meandered into the site. “This conversation is not over.” Phillip’s warm breath slid over the shell of her ear as he left to greet Mr. Milliken.
Skin gone aflame, Eva angled away, desperate for a moment to calm down. Damn him. He had the ability to rattle her like no one else. Right now, she needed to appear confident and self-possessed, not giddy and flustered over a man.
A handsome, surprisingly charming man. And yet . . .
“Miss Ashford.”
It took a second, but a jolt of recognition at the strange name finally went through her. That’s you, silly. Her head snapped to where Phillip and Mr. Milliken approached. Ignoring Phillip, she extended a hand to the construction chief. “Good morning, Mr. Milliken. I’m certainly looking forward to getting under way today.”
Milliken ignored her hand and folded his arms across his chest. “We should be ready with the dynamite in an hour or so. If you don’t mind, miss, it’s probably best if you clear the area.”
Her arm dropped—along with her jaw. “I’m sorry, clear the area? Whatever for?”
“This is dangerous work. We can’t have screaming and screeching while we’re—”
“Screaming and screeching?” Heat broke across the back of her neck as her fingers clenched into fists. A quick glance at Phillip revealed his furrowed brow. Had he known Milliken would order her out? “Are you saying you believe the explosions shall cause me to . . . what? Grow hysterical?”
“Now, calm down everyone,” Phillip started until Milliken sent him a determined look.
“Sir, the men,” Milliken said. “They might be distracted with her here. Day like today is dangerous. One wrong move with that dynamite . . .”
Phillip stroked his jaw and watched the laborers stack crates and organize tools. Then he dragged a hand down his face. “Miss Ashford, there is some truth to Milliken’s concerns. Dynamite is quite volatile and we can’t make a mistake, not in the middle of New York City. I am certain you understand.”
Understand? No, she most definitely did not understand. They were forcing her to leave? And here the English believed the Americans more enlightened. These two were about as enlightened as a thick slab of granite.
Her gaze shifted between the two men, noting the resolve there. She could argue and complain but what would it gain her? They wouldn’t budge and she would further reaffirm their assumptions about her inability to remain calm. Yet she hated giving in, swallowing her pride and her knowledge and walking away. They would never ask the same of a man.
And Phillip. The worst part was that he’d actually taken Milliken’s side, instantly validating the construction chief’s ridiculous theories about her temperament. She would not forget this.
Straightening her spine, she spoke to Milliken. “I’ll return at dusk. If things are not to my liking, I’ll be having words”—she sent a hard glare at Phillip—“with both of you. Good day, gentlemen.”
Chapter Six
“I am here to see Mr. Mansfield.”
Mansfield’s butler, an older man with thin lips and a prodigious forehead, opened the door wider. “Of course, my lady. Please come in and I shall see if Mr. Mansfield is home.”
“If he is not at home,” she said, already removing her gloves. “Tell him I shall wait until he is at home.” In other words, she’d not leave until Phillip agreed to see her.
After being summarily dismissed from the construction site, she had walked the forty-plus blocks to Nora’s house in hopes of clearing her head. It hadn’t worked. More walking through the Cortland gardens also hadn’t diminished her anger. Nor had drawing, drinking a glass of sherry, or punching a pillow.
She was still angry.
And her fury was directed in one place. Or rather, at one person.
“That’s quite all right, Roberts.” A young man appeared from the interior of the home. “Mr. Mansfield asked that I bring Lady Eva to his office.”
Eva tried not to show her surprise. How had Mansfield known she was here? Had he been at the window when she arrived? Before she could ponder it further, the butler disappeared and the young man came forward with a hand extended. Then he seemed to turn self-conscious, his skin reddening. He dropped his arm and awkwardly bowed instead. “I am Mr. Gabriel, Mr. Mansfield’s secretary. If your ladyship will follow me?”
She nodded and he led her the same way she’d taken the other day with Phillip, when he’d practically dragged her to his office. Only this time, she was the one filled with righteous fury.
After a maze of priceless pieces of art and architectural splendor, they arrived at the heavy wooden door to the office. Mr. Gabriel turned the latch and escorted her into the thoroughly masculine domain. There were no frills here. Thick Aubusson carpets covered the floor, with sturdy and serviceable dark furniture. A huge rosewood desk, intricately carved, took up one corner, with a smaller desk—likely Mr. Gabriel’s—not far away. Against the wall, near a plush sofa, was a generous sideboard that hosted more bottles than a department store perfume counter.
Mr. Gabriel shut the door on his way out, leaving Phillip and Eva alone. Phillip rose from behind the desk, placing his pen on the blotter. “Lady Eva. I cannot say this is unexpected.”
Struggling for calm, she smoothed the fabric of her light cream silk afternoon dress patterned with mauve diamonds along the skirt and half-length sleeves. For some reason, the ensemble reminded her of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, one of her favorite childhood books. She had always related to Alice, a girl stuck in a world where nothing made sense. “You owe me an apology.”
“I do?”
“Indeed, you do. Any idea when might I receive it?”
His lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “You have to admit Milliken had a point. These things need to be handled carefully. You must ease into your role on the site else the workers may revolt.”
“That is ridiculous and you’ve merely given Milliken courage for the next time he’d like to send me packing.”
“Milliken answers to me. He does not have the ability to send you packing. Not today, not ever.”
Phillip remained patient, his battered face relaxed and his voice calm. Somehow that annoyed her further. Of course he was calm. This was a man whose authority had never been openly challenged. He’d never lost or struggled. Never had to prove himself.
“You have awarded the first round to him, Phillip. I prefer to begin as I mean to go on—and in this case I’ll be barred from the site any time he deems necessary.”
“You are overreacting. If you’d flinched in the slightest today, sneezed at the wrong moment, or even covered your ears during the blasts, you would have done more damage than by simply not being there.”
“I would have done none of those things. I’m not a fool and I am aware it’s a construction project—my construction project. You had no right to send me away like an errant child!”
He blinked a few times, his brows pinching. “First, it is my hotel being constructed, which makes it my project. Even so, don’t you mean your father’s project?”
Blast. Temper had taken hold of her tongue and caused the slip. “Of course I meant my father’s project—but I am responsible for it while he is convalescing.”
“And I am ultimately responsible for the two of you . . . as well as the men
at the site. Meaning, I do not need to answer to you for this or any other decision.”
“You are impossible.”
He gave her a knowing look. “You are free to return to London at any time, Lady Eva. I’ll happily hire another architect to act in Hyde’s stead until he arrives.”
She studied his expression, tried to see if he was bluffing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be certain. This was her greatest fear, that he’d dismiss her and hire someone local instead. As her father would never arrive, she’d lose the project forever.
That would not do.
No matter what, she had to keep a level head. Her father’s illness and financial ineptitude meant that she could push Phillip only so far. Why hadn’t her father been more responsible with his money? If he had, then she wouldn’t be forced to lie and capitulate to others at every turn.
“Another architect would not understand my father’s vision for the hotel.”
“Yes, but he—and it would be a man, Eva—would not cause the crew to revolt.”
“What’s more important to you? A docile and obedient crew . . . or having the hotel built to Hyde’s designs?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He’d let her down, that much was clear. Eva had expected Phillip to put Milliken in his place, but he wasn’t sure Milliken was entirely wrong. She needed to ease into her role with the crew. Construction workers were extremely superstitious and skittish. If they wanted to keep the laborers happy and on the job then Eva needed to proceed with caution, not barge in like a buffalo.
Yet her disappointment affected him keenly. He had no idea why. He was the captain of this ship, the one whose name would grace the entryway. The one who had financed the entire venture. The one with everything on the line.
If she didn’t care for how he handled things . . . that was too damn bad.
And if he’d longed to kiss the mulish set of her mouth before she stomped away . . . well, that was too damn bad as well.
