by Joanna Shupe
If she did Eva would have no regrets.
Better to sell a pile of gold than a pile of dung, her father once said. Otherwise, you can never get rid of the stink.
She would not ever tell a client anything other than the truth.
“Fine.”
After uttering that one word, Mrs. Mansfield rose and started for the door. Eva’s jaw fell open slightly. Were they done? Had she been discharged? “Wait, what does that mean?”
The older woman dragged in a deep breath before turning. Eva was horrified to see that Mrs. Mansfield’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.
“Forgive me. I am being quite rude but I need a moment alone.” Her voice quavered but her shoulders stood strong. “Please begin drawings for an entire new house. I feel we understand each other well enough and I am confident you’ll give me what I need. I shall see you at dinner.”
The door closed behind her and Eva could not help but let out a little squeal as she bounced on her toes. Design an entire house! Under her own name!
Good heavens, it was too perfect. She’d been longing for this moment for ten years.
She must get started straightaway. Tomorrow she’d return to New York and sketch ideas. She could almost picture the finished product, taking into account Mrs. Mansfield’s request for a more beaux arts style. Windows with arches. Pilasters on the façade. Corinthian columns adorned with volutes. Ornate cornices and balustrades. Oh, and a loggia in the rear.
A twinge of regret colored her happiness, the memory of Mrs. Mansfield’s face before she walked out. She’d obviously been saddened at the thought of losing the house her husband built for her, even as she’d ordered it demolished.
Eva knew what she had to do. A small bit of Stoneacre’s history must somehow be preserved in the new design. A tricky prospect, as there wasn’t much worth saving and all the structural pieces needed replacing.
Thankfully she was up to the challenge.
Chapter Thirteen
Phillip kicked a piece of rock with the toe of his boot. He’d wandered around the construction site most of the day, roasting like a Christmas goose in the hot summer sun. He had no reason to linger, other than the silly desire to see one particular woman. With no word from her, he had no idea when—or if—she planned to return.
He refused to believe she’d left for good. This project was too important to her. No, she was upset with him and merely taking time to cool down. Eventually she would come back and he could apologize for upsetting her.
Then all would resume as normal.
The interminable wait was killing him, however.
Thankfully construction continued at a steady pace. No rumblings of a strike, no sign of any threats. It was calm and steady, except for the occasional blast of dynamite and the hiss of the equipment.
Milliken had given both the day and night crews lectures regarding the safety of everyone on the site, including any woman present. Never mind that there was only one woman who would ever—
A flash of yellow caught Phillip’s eye. Eva. She was just coming through the main gate with her ever-present ledger in hand. Relief flooded him and he hurried toward her, dodging workers and dirt as he went, the heavy chug of the steam shovels drowning out his labored breath.
She wore a yellow skirt with a white cotton shirtwaist, a large hat shielding her face from the sun. She was like a bright spot of perfect sunshine amidst all this dirt and grime, one he’d sorely missed.
“Miss Ashford,” he called as he drew near.
Her head snapped up, expression giving nothing away as she spotted him. “Hello, Mr. Mansfield.”
Less than a rousing greeting, but he supposed he deserved that. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Lips compressed, she did not appear pleased at the request. Her gaze darted at the surroundings before she nodded. “Of course. I assume this is about the ongoing work here?”
Not even close. He gestured to the tiny shack. “In there?”
She led the way, chin high, ignoring the men as she sailed by. They all pointedly ignored her in return.
With the lock on the shack now dismantled, anything valuable belonging to Carew and Milliken had been removed. So when they entered, the space was mostly empty. The air was still and heavy from the humidity.
Her head swiveled to take it in. “Seems much larger.”
“I had them leave a chair and desk for you, but I wouldn’t keep anything of worth in here. We removed the lock.”
“That explains why there’s nothing about.” She removed her bonnet and set it on the desk. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
Tiny lines creased her forehead. “For what, exactly?”
“For the other night. I never should have said any of that.”
“You apologized—repeatedly—on the way home and I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Then why . . .” He took off his derby and ran his hand through his hair. “Then why did you disappear?”
“Is that what this is about?” He dipped his chin and she let out a sigh loaded with exasperation. “I had to visit a friend. I was not running away or avoiding you.”
“A friend?” God, was it a man? His stomach plummeted to the bedrock some thirty feet below. “Who was it?”
“Just a friend, Phillip,” she repeated, not meeting his eyes.
Emotion churned inside his gut, none of it welcome. She was keeping something from him, he could feel it. He’d never experienced jealousy before and he hated every second of this bleak doubt. But he had absolutely no right to be possessive of Eva—especially when he was the one publicly escorting another woman about town these days.
“Oh, my goodness. You’re jealous.” She came closer, peering at his face carefully.
Clearing his throat, he decided to be honest. “I’ve never been in this position before, Eva. I’ve never cared about my partners and whether they were with others outside of our time together. I don’t feel nearly as relaxed about where things stand with us, however. This is all quite unsettling.”
“You have your Miss Hall. I wouldn’t think you’d concern yourself about my social schedule beyond Monday and Thursday evenings.”
“Well, I do. Very much so. And I’ve explained the true nature of the relationship with Miss Hall. We are friends. Nothing more.”
“And I believe you.”
“Do you?”
“Of course. I’ll not play games with you. If I were worried about your motives I would speak up. Though I think it best to remember what this is between us.”
Wariness crept into his gut, a discomfort that had him frowning. “And what is this, exactly?”
“A casual affair, nothing more. We both have our reasons for not pursuing anything serious.”
He supposed that was true, but he hadn’t expected such bluntness from her. Most women agreed to his terms but tried to circumvent them by pushing for more of his time. Or they professed their feelings in the hopes he’d reciprocate. Followed him and faked a chance meeting to pressure him in a public setting.
Yet Eva ran from him every chance she got. No matter how much she gave, he always wanted more. He was quite greedy when it came to Lady Eva Hyde.
If only she were as greedy in return.
“This may not be serious,” he said, “but I do worry about you. I would never want you coming to harm, whether on my construction site or crossing the street. And with no word from you for five days, I thought I’d go out of my mind from the panic.”
Her face softened and she put a hand on his chest. “I was visiting a friend in Newport. An older woman. No man anywhere in sight, I swear it, and no risk to my person at all.”
He was embarrassed by the huge wave of relief that swept over him. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You think I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, I would worry if the roles were reversed in this case, and I apologize for my thoughtlessness. I was quit
e busy but that’s no excuse for ignoring you or my duties here.”
“If you mean your duties at the site, then do not concern yourself. If you mean your duties at Twenty-Fourth Street . . .”
One side of her mouth lifted and she peeked at him through her lashes, her body leaning into his. “Did you wait for me on Thursday?”
“Only for six hours or so.”
“Oh, Phillip. I never guessed you’d wait that long.”
He heard the unspoken truth in the last sentence. “But you hoped I’d wait. As penance.”
“Perhaps an hour. Two, at the most. Six is absolutely absurd.”
Cupping her jaw with his palm, he angled down. “No, absurd would be not waiting long enough and missing the chance to spend the evening buried inside you.”
He heard the swift intake of her breath before she moved in closer, her front nearly flush with his. “Perhaps I could make up for all that lost time.”
“You could,” he started, gripping her hips and grinning down at her. “However, it’s only Saturday.”
“Would you rather wait until Monday?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then come along, my dear man. You’ve waited long enough.”
Eva rose from the sofa as the trio of ladies marched through the door. Nora had invited two of her new American friends over for tea, insisting Eva take time from the construction site to meet them.
Though she had a multitude of more important tasks on her mind, Eva had agreed. How could she refuse Nora when the two of them had spent such little time together in the past few weeks?
Between the hotel project, Mrs. Mansfield’s summer cottage, and Phillip, Eva had hardly been available for visiting. So one afternoon of society gossip would not kill her.
Probably.
“Eva, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Kathleen Appleton and Miss Anne Elliot. Kate and Anne, this is my dear friend, Lady Eva Hyde.”
The two young ladies stopped and performed an awkward curtsey. “No, none of that,” Eva said, coming forward. She thrust out her arm and shook hands with both girls. “It is lovely to meet you both. Nora has told me so much about you.”
Not a lie, as these two were Nora’s closest friends here in New York. Nora had said the girls were “blunt and mischievous . . . in other words, perfect.”
“And we’ve heard all about you, Lady Eva,” the one named Kate said. “You are astounding. A female who aspires to be an architect! I am amazed.”
Anne gestured toward her cousin. “Especially since she can’t trace her own hand, let alone draw up plans for an entire building. But I’m impressed as well, Lady Eva. You give us hope that women will one day be equal with men.”
Eva nearly snorted. She felt anything but equal most days, as the men never let her forget her gender and all she lacked. Namely, a penis.
“Perhaps one day. Mostly it’s a struggle.” She gestured to the seating area. “Shall we sit?”
Soon, everyone was seated and Nora poured tea. They talked of the weather and Eva’s first impressions of New York as they settled with cups and saucers. Kate and Anne were obviously very close, often finishing each other’s sentences, and Eva quickly felt right at home with them, just as Nora had promised.
“Please tell us all about the hotel project,” Kate said. “I ride by there frequently and I’m dying to know what’s happening behind the wooden fence.”
“Is it true they used dynamite to build out the bottom?” Anne asked, her eyes wide.
“To excavate the foundation, yes. We use dynamite because it is the fastest method available. Once the excavation is complete we’ll start building.”
“I think it’s all terribly exciting. Have you gone to see it, Nora?” Kate reached for a piece of poppy seed cake. “It must be fascinating.”
“The men are skittish with a woman around,” Eva told them. “I haven’t invited visitors because I hesitate to give them more reasons to despise me.”
“Despise you? How could such a thing be possible?” Anne asked.
Eva told them of nearly getting swept under the debris pile and then being locked in the wooden shack. “So it’s probably best not to rattle the men any further at this point. Perhaps in a few weeks’ time.”
Nora set down her saucer with a slap. “Eva, I had no idea. Why did you not tell me? You could be seriously hurt—or worse. What has Mansfield done about this? It is his responsibility to keep you safe.”
Eva hurried to reassure her friend. The last thing she needed was for Nora to accost Phillip on Eva’s behalf. Again. “He’s doing everything in his power to ensure I remain so. He was furious I’d been locked in the shack. He sent all the men home without pay, shutting construction down for the day.”
“That hardly seems enough,” Nora snapped. “Was the man responsible ever caught?”
“No, not yet.”
Brow lined with unhappiness, Nora drummed her fingers, nails tapping on the side of her porcelain teacup. “I don’t like this. And I don’t like him.”
“Oh, really?” Kate rushed out. “What is Phillip Mansfield really like, then? He’s quite handsome and—”
“Intense,” her cousin said.
“Yes, but also handsome,” Kate said.
Anne made a noise. “You said that already.”
“I know,” Kate agreed, “but it bears repeating. By the way, I hear he boxes.” She waggled her brows as if the idea were salacious.
Boxes? Eva pictured his bare shoulders and arms, well-defined muscle no wealthy scion should rightfully possess. Yes, boxing made sense. And that would explain the cuts on his cheek and brow a few weeks back. “Where did you hear that?”
“Servants. They say he’s turned his ballroom into a sort of . . . boxing equipment area.”
“You don’t appear surprised,” Nora noticed, peering carefully at Eva’s face. “Have you seen said ballroom?”
No, but I have seen him naked, she wanted to say. Saturday evening, in fact, when he pleasured her to within an inch of her life. They had stayed for hours at the Twenty-Fourth Street apartments, talking and touching between rounds of lovemaking. At the end, he’d been sweaty and wrung out, spread on the dark bedsheets like a marble statue come to life. They had lain there, in silence, the warm summer breeze blowing across their skin, and she’d been . . . content. It had been quite nice.
And in a few hours, they’d do it all over again.
A sizzle of anticipation went down her spine and settled in her toes. She forced her attention to the conversation at hand. “I have not been in the ballroom, though I have been inside his house.”
Nora’s gaze sharpened with disapproval and curiosity, but Kate and Anne whooped. “Please tell me it was his bedroom,” Kate said. “I am picturing dark cherry and deep greens.”
Anne smacked her cousin’s shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she’d been in his bedroom it wouldn’t be to note the color scheme.”
Eva put the bedroom idea to rest. “I’ve only been on the main floor, the entryway and his office specifically.”
“That’s a shame,” Kate muttered. “I was hoping the rumors about him and Miss Hall were false.”
“The rumors of a match, you mean?” Eva had no intention of breaking Phillip’s trust by speaking the truth, revealing that he and Miss Hall were merely friends, but she was curious what the gossips were saying.
“Yes. They say he’s going to offer for her.”
Not likely.
“How lovely for them,” Nora said dryly, the tone flat and insincere. “Do any of you know the story behind his first engagement?”
Eva jerked slightly. How had Nora learned of this? She hadn’t been in New York long enough to hear old scandals . . . unless she’d been purposely digging. She shot her friend a questioning glance, but Nora merely raised one haughty brow. It was her smug I’m-up-to-something look.
“Oh! Goodness, yes. I daresay that’s one they still whisper about.” Anne noticed the blank stares from Nora and
Eva, and leaned in eagerly. “Of course you haven’t heard it, so allow me. He was not yet twenty, I think. Met a girl near his college, a Boston blue blood. Miss Caroline Kerry. They say she was a scheming social climber but incredibly beautiful. She’d already turned down two proposals, so Mansfield knew he’d have to pursue her hard to win her hand.”
“And pursue her he did,” Kate added with a nod. “Followed her everywhere both in Boston and New York. Sent her gifts. Chased away the other suitors. He never tried to hide his feelings or his intentions. Told everyone, ‘That is the girl I am going to marry.’”
“How . . .” Romantic. And unbelievable. That hardly sounded like the man Eva knew.
“Isn’t it?” Anne agreed with a dreamy sigh. “Her parents naturally pushed for the match—”
“Not hard to see why with Mansfield’s wealth and pedigree,” Nora said.
“Yes, but his mother was quite cool to the girl. No one thought Mrs. Mansfield would ever approve.”
“He wouldn’t have cared,” Eva said softly, her stomach twisted in knots. “He would’ve married her anyway.”
“Exactly,” Kate said. “So he proposes. Takes her on a picnic in Central Park, just the two of them—”
“I’ve heard it was on his yacht in Newport,” Anne corrected.
Nora waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Get on with it.”
“She accepts and they’re betrothed. Within days the match is touted as the wedding of the year. Boston society meets New York society. Mrs. Mansfield throws a lavish betrothal ball to celebrate.”
Kate and Anne paused and exchanged a glance, as if deciding who would share the rest of it. “And?” Eva said sharply.
Gaze sparkling, Kate continued. “Just as the wedding preparations are almost complete, her dress has to be refitted.”
“Well, that’s nothing unusual.” Nora lifted one shoulder. “My dress has already been altered three times and we’re several months away from my wedding.”
“No,” Anne said with a meaningful lift of her brows. “It had to be refitted.” She pointed to her abdomen.
Nora gasped. “Do you mean to say she was . . . increasing?”
