This time, she wasn’t helpless. She could save Drew. Hope wouldn’t weep. The Falls wouldn’t take him. There would be no funeral as there had been for Gordon, where a caravan of black drove down the street, the color an emblem for the broken hearts left behind.
And perhaps, yes perhaps, in saving Drew she could banish the darkness of those memories of the day her father died once and for all.
There wasn’t a thing Drew would miss about the dinner parties he’d attended. He wouldn’t lay awake nights wondering if Mrs. Worthington had managed to pop over to Paris and collect her yearly trunk of dresses, or if Mr. Boswell had decided whether to do the interior of his new yacht in French or Colonial style.
All right, he’d miss one thing. The food had been abundant, sometimes even appetizing. Though there was no way anyone could convince him that oysters tasted better than chicken and dumplings.
No, make that two things. For surely as the tide of the Niagara River swept onward, there wouldn’t be a day gone by that Adele Linley wouldn’t enter his mind. And with her, a whole world of missing.
In the Boswell drawing room, some debutante trying to show off her accomplishments plunked out a classical piece. Drew attempted to sit still and listen politely. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman across the room.
Adele laughed quietly with Conway, pressing a hand to her bodice as if in mock astonishment. Yet there was something different about her tonight. Something in the shadows around her eyes and the smile on her lips, one that faded almost as quickly as it blossomed, that told him her levity was nothing more than an act. Her giggle habit, rather than delight.
So while the debutante played on, Drew sat, praying that the Lord would give him wisdom. A nugget of truth into whatever Adele was facing.
Not half an hour later, his prayer was answered. By the footman announcing a late arrived guest and Tony Linley entering the drawing room.
Adele’s face took on pale, strained lines.
Drew could well understand why. He might’ve been a ghost, so different did Tony appear from the man who’d first stood beside his sister and chatted about Blondin. Hollows stood out on his cheeks, evening clothes rumpled as if he’d not changed them in days. He crossed the room with a weaving gait, nearly crashing into corpulent Mrs. Sansom. The lady, who had been sitting placidly beside Drew during the entire concert, fluttered a hand to her bejeweled choker, eyes widening.
Drew’s hand flashed out, grasping Tony on the forearm.
“Steady there, Mr. Linley.” He sensed rather than saw Adele’s gaze upon them, along with that of every guest in the room. Though the piano jaunted merrily on, a wave of whispers rippled through the room, the human drama of far more interest than any concert performance.
“Oh. It’s you.” Tony’s words slurred as if his tongue had grown too large for his mouth. “That circus fellow. Done any death-defying stuff lately?”
“Not yet. Here. Sit down.” He guided Tony into the spot beside Mrs. Sansom, who scooted her bulk as far away from Tony as she could manage, shooting quick glances at him as if he were a python about to gobble her.
Tony sat down heavily. “Thank you, old boy. Appreciate it. Felt a bit dizzy for a moment, I do declare.”
A rustle of skirts and a quick glance behind revealed Adele had crossed the room and stood at Drew’s side.
“What are you doing here?” She cut her voice low, no doubt to the dismay of every gossip present. As if on instinct, Drew placed his hand on her arm—a silent show of support.
Tony blinked several times, as if trying to recall the exact location of here. “I was invited, Del. I just got…delayed.”
“Well, the party’s over, and I’m taking you home.” Regal bearing notwithstanding, Adele seemed about to grasp her brother by the shoulders and drag him away by force.
“Allow me.” Their gazes locked, Adele’s cool at the surface, yet swirling with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She nodded once, then stepped back. Drew took Tony by one arm in a grip meant to guide, and the threesome maneuvered their way out of the drawing room, no doubt leaving a swirl of gossip in their wake.
Once in the hallway, a footman summoned to collect their coats, Drew released Tony. He slumped against a marble column, head lolled back.
Drew turned to Adele, the reality of the moment dawning with the suddenness of a wave breaking against the shoreline.
What would the circumstances be when he next saw her? It wouldn’t be before the stunt surely. Would the Osbournes attend, watching him creep across the perilous expanse of rope and wire? Would Adele join them, looking up at him with the rest of the crowd as he performed, battled? He knew her views on the subject—she was against the whole idea.
But he wanted her there. In a complicated and inexplicable way that belied every caution to himself to focus. Succeed safely, think of nothing else until it was all over.
“Thank you.” In the dim lighting of the entrance hall, the emerald in her eyes glittered. Shimmered almost, as if with tears unshed. He took a step closer. Droplets trembled on her lashes. She blinked them away with a fury, as if her life depended upon keeping them at bay.
“No thanks needed. I’m sorry about what happened in there. I can’t imagine what you must be suffering.” How long did they have? It would take the footman mere seconds to retrieve their wraps from the cloakroom. They had only seconds to be alone.
“Suffering is part of life, is it not? Sometimes a larger part than happiness, or so it seems.” A ragged sigh lifted her chest. Twin tears trailed down each side of her cheeks.
He reached up and wiped them away with his thumb, first one, then the other. Her breath fanned his finger, the smoothness of her skin and the flutter of her lashes nearly bringing him to the brink of the impossible. For impossible it would be, to pull her into his arms and press her against his chest, so close that their hearts beat as one. It would be impossible, because she was so far above him, and because the footman would come soon.
Still, the impossible taunted him and time trailed to a stop as he let his hand linger on the apple of her cheek, the flicker of her wide eyes and the fragrance of roses the only thing that existed in his universe.
“You deserve only joy, Adele Linley. I pray you find it, even in the midst of heartache.” His words came out hoarse as he drew his hand away.
Footsteps drummed against the marble tiles.
“You forget, Mr. Dawson, I haven’t your faith. But I wish the same for you. Always.” A darkness entered her eyes, as if a window had opened into the lost and broken pieces inside her. Then she turned to the footman and let him help her on with her light cloak, followed by assisting her brother on with his hat and carrying his walking stick herself.
Taking Tony’s arm, she led him through the open door held by the servant. At the threshold, she turned. Paused. Cast a quick glance over her shoulder for the space of a heartbeat.
The look in her eyes was one Drew didn’t want to see.
For in those green depths, brimmed silent farewell.
Their parting had only made her more certain of the course she must take. For in those final moments, Adele had glimpsed a man with an honor far greater than she’d ever dreamed existed, and one she could not bear to watch risk his life.
The hired cab jostled as it drove, a spring from the seat cushion poking into Adele’s back with every bump. She knotted her hands in the depths of her skirt and tried not to feel like the conniving woman in a penny novel.
On their drive home, Tony had done nothing but ramble about Caro Aubrey—the Castle proprietress—and boast of his fighting prowess. Apparently, a brawl had broken out over a game of cards, and before the bouncer could be summoned, Tony had broken up the dispute with a few fisticuffs.
Adele had nodded and replied some nonsense. But inwardly she’d thanked her brother for the idea that had sprung forth.
The cab jolted to a halt and Adele clambered out. Somehow, Canal Street menaced more without Drew at her side. The smell o
f refuse heightened to a stench, and the letters on the sign of the Castle seemed dripping with wickedness.
It’s for Drew I’m doing this. I’ll just think of that.
Straightening her shoulders, she crossed the street and opened the door.
It didn’t bear thinking of, what her mother would say if she saw her daughter entering a gambling house. So Adele wouldn’t think of it. She closed the door behind her and surveyed the room. It was a study in opulence, however cheap. Red velvet drapes dripped from the windows. Gilded mirrors adorned the walls, though the largest pane of glass owned a spiderweb of cracks. Tables were scattered throughout the room, all but a few empty. A polished mahogany bar stood at the other end, behind it, shelves of bottles filled with various shades of red and amber liquid.
Behind this counter stood a tall gentleman wearing a dingy brown suit and handlebar mustache. Edging around the room as unobtrusively as she could, Adele made her way toward this man. Wherever Caro Aubrey was, he seemed the most likely person to know.
“Something I can help you with?” The man’s brows matched the texture and shade of his black mustache. They knit together as he surveyed her.
“I’m here to see Miss Aubrey.” She folded her gloved hands in front of her and matched him stare for stare. No need to let him sense her inexperience. Not to mention anxiety.
“And what business have you with Miss Aubrey?” He rounded the bar, coattails flapping. She started back. How on earth had Tony managed to get to the fight before this man? With an effort, she locked her knees and determined to stand her ground.
A door creaked from somewhere down the narrow hall behind the bar.
“Do I hear my name, Miles?” The voice had the smooth, sweet texture of a first taste of honey.
Miles stopped, as if turned into a statue.
A woman stepped forth from the darkened corridor. Adele couldn’t help it. Her breath halted.
Seeing Caro Aubrey doesn’t justify your actions, Tony Linley. But it does help me to understand them.
Gowned in a dress of midnight blue, the woman swished toward them and leaned one hand against the edge of the bar. Curls the color of caramel spilled over her bare shoulders, pulled back almost carelessly by a matching ribbon. Her eyes matched the gown, and they were riveting eyes, large and intelligent.
“Is something the matter, Miles?” Though she probably owned the age of twenty-eight, if not more, the half-smile she gave Miles was positively girlish.
“This young lady was asking for you.” Miles made a jerky gesture in Adele’s direction.
Caro Aubrey turned the force of her startling gaze on Adele, her brow arching slightly. “Indeed. And you are?”
She’d already predetermined the next words, so they came easily off her tongue. “Jane. Jane Gibson.”
“And how may I be of service, Miss Gibson?” Though the woman’s tone was not ungracious, a clip of annoyance infused her words, as if she were the Queen, Adele a subject come to vex her.
“It’s a private matter. One for your ears alone.” She firmed her tone, cutting a stare at Miles. Caro Aubrey wasn’t the only regal female in the room.
“I see.” The woman tapped her fingernails against the polished surface of the bar. She studied Adele, as if determining whether or not to take her seriously. Adele looked steadily back. Having come this far, she wasn’t about to be deterred by this peacock of a woman, no matter how brilliant her plumage.
“Very well. If you’ll follow me, Miss Gibson.” With a graceful swirl of her skirts that would have been at home in any London drawing room, she made her way down the corridor, Adele following. She stopped beside a closed door and turned the knob. Adele’s stomach gave a sudden churn as the door shut behind them.
What she was about to do was right, wasn’t it?
Miss Aubrey took a seat atop a high four-poster bed covered in a silky red counterpane. She adjusted her skirts, seeming not to give two straws whether Adele continued to stand in the doorway for the entire conversation.
“Whatever you have to say, you have five minutes. My time is too precious to give you any more than that.” Caro Aubrey didn’t smile now. Apparently she reserved such gestures for Miles. And Tony, if one listened to his description in the carriage.
Adele took a deep breath, gulping in air before diving in. Drew’s face flashed through her mind, driving her onward. “I have a business proposition for you. One that will enable you to make a bit of cash for very little trouble. I need a fight to be staged here, tonight or tomorrow night, if possible. I don’t care how it starts, as long as a man named Tony Linley is caught in the fray. Another man will come in, as the fight begins, and seek to retrieve Tony from the ruckus. I want you to see to it that this other man—” Heart drumming in her ears, she forced air into her lungs. Perspiration slicked down her back. “—is injured. Not seriously, but enough to render him unfit for strenuous activity for a few days. If you agree, I’m prepared to offer you the sum of fifty dollars.” She clenched her hands together to keep them from tangling in her skirt.
Silence hung, thicker than the mist over the Falls. Somewhere out there in the world people laughed, children played, sweethearts embraced. But for the moment, all that existed for Adele was Caro Aubrey, biting the edge of her lower lip and swinging her slippered foot back and forth like a pendulum. No doubt a thousand questions raced through the woman’s mind. But the one that most pressed Adele was simply—would Caro Aubrey agree?
“I know it’s rather high-handed of me to ask.” Sarcasm, rather than honey, dripped from the woman’s words now. “But why?” Her tone softened slightly, then hardened again. “I’m not about to get mixed up in any illegal dealings. The Castle isn’t that type of place, no matter what anybody thinks.”
“There’s nothing illegal about any of this. Fights happen all the time. You probably have even had one or two over the past week, if I’m not mistaken.” She issued the words, laying each out like a trump card played as a last, brave effort.
Suspicion entered the woman’s cobalt eyes. “How do you reckon that? And how do you know Tony Linley?”
“I mean him no harm. He’s a friend.” Adele kept her gaze level and her back rigid while time strode onward. Not that she minded its passage. She had all the time in the world for this endeavor.
“You’re right about the fights. And I happen to be a bit low on this month’s rent money at present. What you ask can be arranged.” Caro Aubrey slid down from her perch with a swish of skirts. She crossed the room and fingered the cream lace drape shielding the room’s only window. “After nine tonight, in fact. But I’ll need the money now.” The woman’s gaze never left the window. Did the room overlook the street? Was she waiting for something? Or someone? Tony?
Opening the clasp of her reticle, Adele pulled out several bills. She stepped to the woman’s side and held them out.
Caro Aubrey turned, snatching the bills and curling her palm around them. She faced Adele, eyes bright, not with joy but with some wilder emotion altogether. A breath left her parted lips, the tendons in her neck standing out. “I don’t know a deuced thing about you, Miss Jane Gibson. But I do know this. Fate is a funny thing. And when you start something like this, once it’s gone and done, there’s not a thing left to do but deal with the consequences.”
A crash sounded from somewhere in the building, like the shattering of a teacup. Adele started, a prickle snaking down her spine.
Caro Aubrey stood, unmoving, her knuckles white around the wad of bills. “Trust me when I say this, Miss Gibson. Whatever you’re up to, there will be consequences.”
There was something grand about laughter, a delicious intoxication. One that could drown out even the clanking and grinding of his future, stalking slowly toward him.
Not that there was any reason to dread. He was as prepared as could be for the stunt taking place in two days’ time.
So why did dread crouch deep in the pit of his stomach?
Drew laughed, a rousing, s
idesplitting sound that filled the apartment, mingling with Hope’s light giggles.
“You seriously don’t want me to keep going?”
“Yes, I do. And you will if you know what’s good for you, Andrew James Dawson.” She scrunched her nose at him.
“Saints preserve us, she used my full name. I’m terrified! But honestly, Hope, you have to realize I tell really bad stories. Entirely horrendous, actually.” He filched a sweet roll from the plate and popped a section in his mouth.
“Maybe. But I like them and want to hear one. For old times’ sake.” Hope smiled, as if she knew exactly what effect her smiles had on him. For when his sister smiled, there wasn’t a thing he could do but comply. Some men might have scoffed at the way he melted when it came to pleasing Hope. But for Drew, it was the way it had always been. And how it would always be.
He chewed another bite of sweet roll, mind spinning on how to concoct a tale that wouldn’t sound entirely idiotic.
“So there was this lady, see. And she lived in a gigantic house, alone. Well, not exactly alone. She had twenty-five cats to keep her company.”
Hope burst out laughing, covering her face with her hands. “You know, you’re right. Maybe we’ll come up with something better to do tonight then listen to your stories.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Thank goodness!”
Rap. Tap.
The knock came again, as if out of nowhere.
Hope’s eyes widened, though a smile still danced on her lips.
Drew stood. “Looks like we might have a visitor.” Though he couldn’t imagine who would call after nine at night. A messenger from Conway, maybe?
My Heart Belongs in Niagara Falls, New York Page 15
