by Joanna Shupe
“Why? You’ve never left my private life alone. Why can’t I discuss yours?” When he didn’t answer, she huffed. “You know, for years I didn’t think you had a private life. You worked all the time and never even escorted a woman to dinner or the theater. Then, after I debuted, I overheard two women discussing you at a cotillion, saying you had a long-term mistress and weren’t interested in marriage.”
Will closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry—”
“Sorry? You have nothing to apologize about. When I heard those women talking, I was relieved. I’d been so worried about you, thinking you were lonely and that you’d have no one in your life after I left.” She reached over and gripped his forearm. “I don’t want you to be alone, growing old in this big house by yourself. You deserve love and laughter—and you know what I heard this morning? Something I haven’t heard within these walls for a long time. Love and laughter, Will. I cannot imagine the last time I saw you smile so often.”
Lies upon lies. He did not intend for Lizzie to get the wrong idea about Ava. “She’s a medium, not a newspaper reporter.” He heaved a breath, the weight of the one lie off his chest.
Lizzie sat back, her eyes blinking rapidly. “A medium? I don’t understand. She tells fortunes?”
“Have you heard of Madam Zolikoff?”
“Yes, as has most everyone in New York. Edith hired her for a séance recently, though I wasn’t able to attend. Are you . . . Ava is Madam Zolikoff?”
He gave a curt nod. “So you should not accustom yourself to the idea of a future between Ava and myself.”
“Why not?”
His eyes went wide. Was she serious? “Because the woman fleeces people for a living. She’s a confidence man—or woman, in this case.”
“Oh, I see.” Lizzie picked up a spoon, dropped more sugar in her coffee, and stirred, the clink of the spoon against the china the only sound in the room. She placed the spoon in the saucer with a snap. “You think she’s not good enough for you.”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, angrily. “But I cannot marry her.”
“I don’t see why not. People change. Look at my husband. He was once a thief and probably many other things I’d rather not know about. But that is his past and I’ll not think less of him for it. He did what was necessary in order to survive and meet me, which is what matters. Every step we take in life brings us along on a path to someone. Do not judge her for the choices she made before reaching you.”
“I might not judge her harshly, but everyone else certainly will. Can you even imagine the gossip? I would not put her through it.”
“Her—or you?”
“Does it matter?”
Lizzie cocked her head and studied him. “Does she make you happy, Will?”
“Will you watch my forehead to see if I lie?”
“Yes, so do not even attempt it.” Her expression softened considerably. “And I saw your face when you looked at her this morning. It’s how I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you care for her. It’s the reason you invited her family here last evening, wasn’t it?”
“Their apartments were sweltering,” he found himself mumbling. “They sleep on the fire escape to keep cool. It seemed unsafe.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Then why in God’s name are you grinning?”
“Because it’s finally happened. My big brother has fallen in love.”
* * *
I’m so weak, Ava thought as she attempted to catch her breath. Her sweaty, naked limbs were currently tangled with Will’s atop rumpled hotel sheets. Since the night in his home two weeks ago, she’d met him at the Washington Square Hotel each Thursday afternoon. He’d pounced on her both times, their lovemaking greedy and desperate, as if this was their last encounter. And perhaps it was. She kept telling herself she wouldn’t meet him again . . . yet here she lay, sated and blissful from his attentions once more.
“You ruined six of my meetings this week. My concentration is pitiful, when all I can think about is what you taste like.” Will nibbled her neck so she tilted her head to encourage him. The scrape of his teeth over her skin caused her to shiver. “What you smell like.” He took a deep inhale through his nose. “You’re destroying me, Ava.”
She sighed. This was why she kept returning. For such a proper, rigid man outside the bedroom, Will turned out to be tender and affectionate inside it. The contrast intoxicated her . . . as did his kisses. “Is that why I’ve noticed you rubbing your stomach here and there?”
“I do?”
“Yes. I’ve been wondering if you have a stomach ailment or merely a poor diet.”
He drew her earlobe into the lush heat of his mouth, his large hand sweeping over her rib cage. “Meet me on Monday afternoon. I cannot wait an entire week to see you.”
“I cannot. And why are you avoiding my question?”
“It’s a stomach ailment,” he sighed into her throat. “My doctor believes it’s from working too much.”
“Which I would believe, since I’ve never met a man more driven. What does he suggest you do?”
“Take time away from the office, which is why I desperately need you to meet me on Monday.” He stroked her stomach with his fingertips. “To get me out of the office.”
“Indeed, a smoothly voiced effort, but my answer is still no.” Meeting him once a week pushed the limit of her pride. Twice a week would weigh her down until she went under.
Because she knew something Will would never discover: She’d fallen in love with him. Yes, the cynical, hardened, world-weary Ava Jones had made a monumental mistake, one she had promised to never, ever do again. She’d developed feelings for a man above her station, a man who could never marry her. A man who only wished to bed her.
The situation depressed her. Humiliated her. Yet she couldn’t stop meeting him on Thursday afternoons. This one day was a little pocket of heaven in her bleak existence, a temporary sanctuary that would not last forever. Should she not enjoy them while she could?
“I can persuade you,” he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice melting her insides. His fingers dipped between her thighs, performed lazy circles around her entrance.
She felt her resolve slipping, so she pushed his arm away. “You just don’t like to hear the word ‘no.’”
“True.” He flopped on his back and folded his hands beneath his head. “And yet, you keep saying it.”
“Poor railroad man,” she drawled. “He has to rely on all his other women for company.”
Narrowed gray eyes pinned her to the mattress. “There are no other women, Ava. Only you.”
Her heart gave a tiny leap at that news, even though she had no hold over him. There were no illusions about what this was between them. “What about Miss Baldwin?”
“I haven’t seen her since the night of the séance. Are there other men?” He actually sounded worried.
“No.”
“So why won’t you meet me on Mondays as well?”
“Because I am busy, Will, as are you.” And the more I see you, the harder it is to walk away each time. “This arrangement suits me perfectly.”
“What about Tuesdays, then? Or Sundays? Or tomorrow, for God’s sake.”
A smile pulled at her lips. She traced his belly button with her fingertip, stroked the thin trail of light hair leading down to his groin. “You’d tire of me if I saw you so often.”
“Not a chance. I could never tire of you. I could bed you every day for a year and still discover new ways to make you sigh. Are you worried you’ll tire of me?”
“No,” she replied honestly. He was complicated and demanding, sweet and insecure . . . she loved every facet of this perplexing man. Under no circumstances could she see herself tiring of him. “But I have responsibilities to my clients as well as my family. I cannot flit about the city and then drop everything when you are able to fit me into your life.”
The room fell silent.
Noise from the street—the clatter of a nearby omnibus, the shouts of peddlers, even the distant sounds of an organ grinder—floated through the open window. Ava hated that she’d answered harshly, yet it was the truth. She would not become his mistress. His occasional lover was one thing; she could live with that status. But to surrender herself to him, make herself available whenever he had time for her, would crush her soul a little at a time.
“The offer stands should you change your mind. And if there is anything I can do, anything I have to bargain with, just name it.”
“I thought the first rule of negotiation was to never give your opponent any advantage. What sort of railroad tycoon are you?”
He rolled, coming up on an elbow to loom over her. His free hand cupped her jaw. “One who is willing to beg for whatever scraps his beautiful, enchanting opponent throws at him.” Bending, he pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, but when she responded, the kiss turned heated. When he finally released her, they were both panting. “You have turned me inside out, Ava.”
Unable to come up with an appropriate response, she brushed her lips over his. Then she changed the subject. “Is there another rally this weekend?”
“No. I’m spending the weekend in Newport.”
“Oh. Seeing your sister?”
“Yes, and a few other obligations.”
She could imagine such obligations. Parties, champagne, oysters, yachting . . . Actually, no. She couldn’t begin to imagine them. Those activities were completely foreign to her, a level of wealth she never even bothered dreaming of. Why dream of something she’d never have?
“Any séances this weekend?” he asked, dipping his head and kissing her collarbone. It was as if he couldn’t stop touching or kissing her, and Ava loved every minute.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I have one every weekend into July.”
“Do you like it, portraying Madam Zolikoff?”
“I do, yes. It allows me greater freedom than if I were an actress onstage. Not to mention more money.”
He nuzzled the outside of her breast, licking and gently nipping. Her nipple puckered and, without thinking, she arched toward him. “Your brothers and sisters are lucky to have you,” he murmured. “Almost as lucky as I am to have you.”
She chuckled. “Right now, you aren’t having me. You’re teasing me.”
“Indeed, I am.” He swirled his tongue around her nipple, not giving her what she wanted. She squirmed underneath him, but he ignored her. “You have fantastic breasts, in case I haven’t said.”
“You have said—many times, in fact—but I never tire of hearing it.”
He gave a satisfied grunt and switched to the other breast. “Tell me about the man. The one from before who hurt you. Was he your first?”
“I don’t want to talk right—”
“Talk or I shall stop what I’m doing,” he threatened, his mouth hovering over her nipple. She tried to grab his erection to distract him, but Will was faster. He clasped both her hands, brought them over her head, and held them tight with one of his. “Tell me, Ava.”
“Why? It was a long time ago.”
“Because I want to know—and I always get my way.” He blew on the hardened tip of her breast, the air only adding to her frustration. Her cleft throbbed, and she would soon be begging. Damn him.
“Please, Ava.”
The please never failed to convince her. Heaven help her if he ever figured that out. “Several years ago, I worked in an office where the boss’s son began to pay attention to me. Woo me, really. After a fashion, he told me we’d be married, that we would spend our lives together, and I believed him. In truth, he never had any intention of a future between us. I was . . . convenient.”
Will’s head snapped up, a frown on his handsome face. “What happened?”
She pressed her lips together, unwilling to discuss the pregnancy—especially with this man. “One day he stopped speaking to me. He acted as if I no longer existed. Then I was fired.”
“He fired you?” He drew up on his elbow, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “That bastard. Tell me his name.”
“No, Will. It’s long over and you cannot stir it up again.” If Will didn’t know the van Dunns, Ava would eat her tambourine. Even still, she did not want him performing acts of retribution on her part. The past should stay there. “Truthfully, losing my job was for the best because I discovered Madam Zolikoff shortly after.”
“He should be punished.”
“Last I heard, he’d lost his trust fund betting on the horses. He was forced to marry a truly awful woman for her dowry.”
“Is this a man with whom I’m familiar?”
“Perhaps. They were not of your social caliber, though. More like upper middle class.”
The lines around his mouth deepened. He suddenly appeared gravely serious. “You know I’ve never lied to you. I’ve tried to be straightforward with you from the start, to ensure there would be no expectations—”
“Indeed, I haven’t forgotten. I do not expect more from you, Will.” Her head knew there was no future for them, but her heart . . . Her stupid heart had ideas of its own. Deep down, she yearned for everything with this man. His love. His life. His future. There was no point in admitting it to him, however. He’d either find it amusing or pathetic, and both reactions would break her. “This is merely a way to pass the time.”
A flash of something unrecognizable twisted his features for a brief second. What had that been, regret? Anger? Or gratitude that she’d agreed with him?
“Then, by all means”—he dropped his voice—“let us pass the time once more. Where would you like me to start, with my mouth on your breasts or between your legs?”
She raised a brow as if to say, Need you ask? With a smirk, Will slid down the bed and parted her thighs. “Excellent choice,” he murmured, and she forgot all about unpleasant conversations regarding circumstances she could not change.
* * *
The deck of the Athena rolled beneath Will’s feet, the salty ocean spray coating his face. Under normal circumstances, the situation would find him relaxed and happy. The yacht had always been his favorite place. An excursion that offered freedom from his desk, the paperwork, and the responsibilities that dogged him every day. Here, he could enjoy the fresh air and ocean breezes. Today, however, he wished to be someplace else. With someone else.
And the realization did not sit well.
“The water is beautiful, isn’t it?”
Will glanced down at Miss Iselin—Kathleen, she’d insisted he call her in private. She and her mother were two of fifteen guests on the boat today, all members of the Newport elite, along with Tompkins and Bennett from the campaign. The ribbons of Kathleen’s sun bonnet flapped in the wind, the dress molding to what appeared to be a modestly curvaceous figure. He waited to feel something . . . anything. Disappointed, he tore his glance away. “Yes, it is. Do you like sailing?”
“I do.” She leaned against the rail and closed her eyes. “Something so freeing and humbling about being on the ocean. A reminder of how little control we have in the universe.”
“That’s very astute.” He’d often thought the exact same when on the boat. Yet another reminder that Kathleen was deeper than most girls her age. “And yes, it can be humbling, especially in poor weather.”
“My father’s boat isn’t nearly this size,” she remarked. “You must love sailing.”
“Yes, though I do not indulge in it nearly enough. I used to go out more, when Lizzie was younger.”
“Your sister is quite charming. I can imagine it was hard for you when she married, with the two of you so close.”
Sensitive, too. Not many people would assume that—and if they did, they wouldn’t mention it to him. He liked that Kathleen had. “She is happy in her new life, which is gratifying. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”
“But?”
He chuckled and leaned over, resting his elbows on the wooden railing. “There is no ‘but.�
� You must have been happy for your older sister when she married a few years ago.”
She shrugged. “I was happy for the wedding to be over. It seemed like a tiresome process to me.”
“Isn’t a big, fancy society wedding every woman’s dream?”
“Not mine.” Her expression turned wistful, almost shy. “I find the bigger the wedding, the less attention is paid to what the words mean.”
A weight settled between his shoulder blades, a tightness that contrasted what his head was telling him, that this girl seemed utterly perfect. She said all the right things, intrigued him, was intelligent, beautiful, and came from the same social background. Will should be filled with satisfaction, the knowledge that everything he wanted was now within reach. Instead, his skin pulled uncomfortably, as if he were trying on a coat two sizes too small.
“Ah, here you both are,” Tompkins said, arriving at Will’s side. “Beautiful day for a sail, isn’t it?”
Will grunted noncommittally while Kathleen politely responded, “Yes, it is.”
“Miss Iselin was telling me earlier of her interest in charitable works,” Tompkins said to Will. “She even donates her time to a small orphanage in Battery Park.”
“It’s only a few hours each week.” She waved her hand. “My good deeds are not nearly on the grand scale of what Mr. Bennett and Mr. Sloane hope to accomplish when they win.”
“Perhaps the two candidates could stop by the orphanage, give some attention to a worthy cause. That is, assuming the orphanage could benefit from the publicity.”
Miss Iselin flushed, her porcelain skin turning a becoming pink. “I am certain they would appreciate it. Why don’t I check with them and let you know?”
“That would be wonderful,” Tompkins said into the silence when Will did not respond. “Please, inform Mr. Sloane the moment you speak with them.”
“I will. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Gracefully Kathleen floated along the deck to rejoin the others. Will exhaled in relief, grateful he could focus on something else for a few moments.
“She is absolutely perfect for you. I hope you realize that,” Tompkins murmured. “Yet I detect a distinct lack of enthusiasm on your part.”
