by Joanna Shupe
Cortland took several puffs then said, “About those vices. I suppose you’ll speak to Miss Desmond now that you’re engaged.”
“I’ve already done so, in fact.” He’d met with Poppy last evening to break things off. The popular actress had not been thrilled to learn of Julius’s engagement, which he’d allowed her to believe was real. She’d cursed a blue streak, calling him every name she could think of, before ordering him out of her apartments.
“Good. I’m glad to hear of it. I expect you to have a care with my niece’s reputation.”
“I shall, sir.”
“Because I’ll be greatly displeased if she’s hurt. The girl is under my protection until after the wedding.”
Message received. Little risk in ruining her, however, as she was in love with another man. At least, he assumed that was her reason for concocting this plan in the first place. Why else would a gorgeous, vivacious, and intelligent woman such as Nora be so desperate to return to boring old London?
“I understand. I would not see her harmed.”
“Good evening, Cortland.” A man joined them, one Julius recognized from about town. Mr. William Pendleton, one of the Knickerbocker elite and the current president of the exclusive Gotham Club.
“Evening, Pendleton. Do you know Mr. Julius Hatcher?”
“Of course.” Pendleton struck out his hand. “Congratulations are in order, I hear, Hatcher.”
Julius shook the older man’s hand. “Thank you. I am a lucky man, indeed.”
“Now that you’re in the family, perhaps James will sponsor you for membership at the Gotham. We’re always looking for fresh blood.”
Julius nearly laughed outright. The Gotham Club had turned down his membership application back in ’87, as had all the other fancy society clubs uptown. Instead, he’d joined Edwin Booth’s artistically inclined Players Club down in Gramercy Park, which he happened to quite enjoy.
But circulating inside the blue-blooded clubs could provide him with additional opportunities to ferret out the men who’d ruined his father. So he forced a smile. “Thank you, Pendleton. I appreciate the offer.”
“I’d be happy to,” Cortland said. “Hadn’t realized you weren’t already a member, Hatcher.”
Julius doubted that very much but said nothing.
“Incidentally, Hatcher,” Pendleton said after taking a sip of what looked like whiskey. “You’ve certainly got the golden touch on Wall Street. Which stocks grab your fancy these days?”
The question set Julius’s teeth on edge. So here was Pendleton’s price for the club membership. Several men nearby quieted, conversation waning as they unabashedly listened for Julius’s answer. He threw back the rest of his champagne. “Both Great Lakes Railroad and Pratt’s have shown strong growth this quarter.”
“Excellent.” Pendleton’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “Appreciate the tip. Hope to see you both soon. Will you be at the Billings event tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Nora’s uncle said. “We plan to be there. My niece is anxious to share a dance or two with her new fiancé.”
Dance? Julius nearly cringed at the thought. He hated dancing.
Pendleton departed and Cortland soon finished his cigar. The two men started back to the family’s box and the women. His fiancée. Strange to think of Nora that way. Strange to think of any woman that way.
He’d sworn never to marry. Having a wife and family put considerable burdens on a man. Weighted you down with responsibilities that resulted in rash, desperate decisions, oftentimes with disastrous results. With only himself to look after, Julius could focus on what truly mattered: himself.
Temporary, the engagement was merely temporary. Nora would soon be shipped back to England, the men to blame for cheating his father would be ruined, and Julius could return to life as a bachelor.
“Hatcher!”
Julius’s head shot up to find his good friend and attorney, Frank Tripp, coming toward him in the corridor. They had known each other for years, both having the same thirst for parties, gambling, and ladies. Often all at once.
“Evening, Tripp.” He quickly introduced Nora’s uncle.
“I thought that was you.” Tripp slapped Julius on the back. “Say, I heard the funniest joke yesterday. Someone’s going around claiming you’re engaged. I told them there was no chance because just the other night you—”
“If you’ll excuse us, Cortland,” Julius said to Nora’s uncle. “I’d like to have a private word with my friend.”
Cortland looked considerably uncomfortable and latched on to the escape. “Of course. See you at the box, Hatcher.” With a nod in Frank’s direction, Cortland hurried away.
“You idiot,” Julius snapped. “That is my fiancée’s uncle.”
Frank’s face fell, his eyes searching Julius’s face. “Jesus, you’re serious. You have a fiancée? What about Poppy?”
“Cast adrift, I’m afraid. And I do have a fiancée. Her name is Lady Nora Parker.”
“A lady? I cannot believe this. But you swore . . .”
Never to marry.
He could not trust Tripp with the truth, that the engagement was a sham. The fewer people who knew, the better chance they had at maintaining the ruse, even amongst friends. “People change. And she’s a wonderful woman. I’m fortunate to have her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand. Just accept it and be happy for me.”
Tripp held up both hands, palms out. “I beg your pardon. I’m merely having a hard time wrapping my head around all this. How long have you known her?”
“Not long. We met in the park, took to walking together every morning.” He didn’t see the need to deviate from the agreed-upon story.
“Walking in the park? In the morning? You?” Tripp threw his head back and laughed. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
Julius grabbed Frank’s arm and tugged him closer to the wall. He leaned in. “Do not make me hit you. Stop questioning me and just believe it for now.”
Frank drew back. “For now? What does—oh, I see.” Understanding dawned in his eyes. He gave Julius an exaggerated wink. “Say no more, Hatcher. Engaged it is.”
“No, wait. You misunderstood.”
Tripp patted Julius’s shoulder. “No, I don’t believe I have—and stop worrying. Your secret is safe with me. Listen, some of the boys are down in the Patterson box. We’re throwing dice for some of his silver mine stock. You in?”
Julius grimaced. He should say no. The Cortlands and Nora would wonder where he’d wandered off to if he did not return promptly. But Patterson’s stock was an almost irresistible lure . . .
“Come on. I know you want to,” Tripp encouraged. “Ten minutes, that’s all. Your fancy fiancée won’t even miss you. No doubt you’ve been eyeing that stock.”
Of course he’d been eyeing that stock. It had tripled in value in two years, and throwing dice was all probability. His mathematical skill at calculating the odds made him nearly unbeatable.
Damn it.
Julius darted a glance on both sides of the nearly empty corridor. The performance had started again. Could he sneak away? For all Nora knew, Julius might still be in the smoking room. What was ten minutes? “All right. Ten minutes, that’s all. I need to hurry back. After winning, of course.”
One quarter of an hour later—and five hundred shares of Patterson mining stock richer—Julius returned to the Cortland box. An empty salon greeted him, the rest of the group already in the seats. He continued into the main theater box and dropped into the empty chair between the wall and Nora.
She sniffed and then leaned over to whisper, “You smell like a tobacco factory.”
“A result of visiting the smoking room, I’m afraid.” He noticed her face was pale, her golden-brown eyes flat. Had something upset her? “Is everything all right?”
“It’s nothing.”
An obvious lie, but he had no way of tearing the truth out of her. “Would you c
are for some air?”
She darted a quick glance at the boxes around them, filled with New York’s elite. Was she worried about attracting attention? Ridiculous. No one stayed in a seat for the entire performance. Besides, hadn’t this entire scheme been about attracting attention?
He stood and held out a hand. “Come.”
After a few soft words to her aunt across the narrow aisle, Nora rose and led the way to the salon. When she was settled on the tiny velvet sofa, he poured her some champagne and himself a whiskey.
Strains of the German opera floated through the heavy curtains as he handed her a crystal glass. He lowered himself next to her, maintaining a respectable distance. Remember the agreement and stop admiring the long graceful curve of her neck.
When he’d first seen her tonight, the breath had left his chest. She was all regal elegance and voluptuous beauty in a cream opera gown with gold and brown beading on the skirt. White gloves came up past her elbows and tasteful, expensive jewelry adorned her throat and wrists. Her brown hair was pinned into a simple hairstyle that had him longing to rumple the glossy strands with his bare hands. She was an absolute vision.
And off-limits.
Lowering his voice so as to not be heard by the others, he asked, “Did your aunt or uncle say something to upset you?”
“No, not really. Merely a realization on my part. I’d really rather not discuss it.”
“Do you want to call this off?”
Her eyes cut to his. “Whatever would cause you to think that?”
“I assumed you were having second thoughts.”
“No second thoughts. None whatsoever.” She took a healthy swallow of champagne. “Did you know my aunt and uncle hardly ever travel to England? Prior to four weeks ago, I hadn’t seen them since my mother’s funeral.”
“My condolences. How many years ago did she pass away?”
“I was seven.”
“It’s difficult to lose a parent so young.”
She stared at him intently, the gaslight playing across her face as she waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she remained silent and he found himself strangely disappointed. “You may ask me, you know.”
“It’s impolite to pry. I assumed you’d offer up whatever information you wished to share.”
“I’d rather you merely ask me whatever it is you’re curious about.”
She avoided his gaze and smoothed her skirts with her free hand. “I shouldn’t like to offend you.”
“Nora,” he said through a chuckle. “I’m American. You prim and proper Brits cannot offend us Yankees.”
He liked the wide smile that overtook her face. “Is that so? Now I shall truly attempt to try.”
The moment stretched, the two of them grinning at each other, until she broke away to inspect the wall. He took a long swallow of his drink. “You are an interesting puzzle, Lady Nora.”
“How so?”
“A woman who seeks me out at Sherry’s, arranges for a fake engagement, and then is worried about overstepping her boundaries? That is most definitely a puzzle.”
She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “I suppose you are right. Some days, I feel as if I am caught between two worlds. Never doing what is expected of me.”
Ah, he was beginning to understand. He’d often experienced similar thoughts. “Life would be quite boring if we always did what was expected of us.”
“True, but I find that usually results in disappointing everyone.”
“Except ourselves.” He toasted her with his cut-glass tumbler. “We have but one life, Nora. Best to live it the way we’d like, eh?”
“Is that what you do? Live only for yourself?”
“Yes, I do. Simpler that way.”
“Lonelier, too.”
Lonely? No, definitely not. He had friends, lovers. Companions whenever he desired, solitude at other times. He would not trade his life for another, not in a hundred years.
But the rules were vastly different for men and women. Had Nora been lonely in England? That could explain how she’d ended up in love with a man ill suited for her.
“They say you are some sort of financial genius,” she said. “Is it true?”
“Not sure about genius, but I do like numbers. Always have. Just have a head for figures, I suppose.”
“What is six hundred and twenty-two thousand multiplied by eight hundred and thirty-seven thousand?”
The numbers aligned in his mind without much effort. “Five hundred twenty billion, six hundred and fourteen million.”
“I’m impressed. So how does that translate into acquiring a fortune?”
“If one is able to remember patterns of numbers and use them to predict trends, like which companies are growing and which are contracting. I can discern the inflated stocks and the ones undervalued. It’s a constant puzzle with no end.”
She nodded, as if this information unlocked some hidden meaning into his personality. “Another puzzle.”
“Yes, but one not nearly as interesting as you.”
The line escaped his mouth before he could stop it. He hadn’t meant to flirt with her. They were partners, not lovers, but he hadn’t been able to control himself. Which was unusual, to say the least.
Dangerous. This woman is dangerous.
She laughed, thank goodness. “There is no need to flatter me, Julius. We are allies, nothing more.” She rose and placed her empty glass on a side table, sparing him the need to offer up a response. He stood and finished his drink as well, happy to give his runaway mouth something else to do.
“We should probably return to our seats,” she said. “The purpose in coming tonight was to be seen together, and thus far we have failed in that endeavor.”
“Not completely. I’d wager every person in our tier noticed us leaving. And news of the engagement has already spread like fire in a match factory.”
“Excellent. Then things are progressing quite nicely, I’d say.” She took his elbow. “Incidentally, what did my uncle say to you in the smoking room?”
Keeping his voice low, he said, “He was disappointed I didn’t properly ask for your hand. Warned me to have a care with your reputation.”
She snorted, a sound he found endearing. Were proper British ladies supposed to snort? No wonder Nora’s father had shipped her to America. She must have scandalized society in London over and over again.
“You think he’s wrong to worry?” he asked.
“Things are hardly ever what they seem, Mr. Hatcher,” she said cryptically. “Come along. Let’s return to our seats.”
Chapter Four
On the surface, society events in New York were not very different from those in London. They each had a large ballroom for dancing, with a nearby room set up with food and tables for conversation. Card room for the gents and retiring room for the ladies.
What set the American parties apart, Nora had noticed, was the grand scale of it all. The houses were bigger, the decorations more lavish. The Billingses’ dining table had a large ice sculpture of Poseidon in the middle, surrounded by freshly shelled oysters and clams. A champagne fountain flowed. Vegetables had been painstakingly carved into flowers. The wine had been shipped in from France, and wooden trellises covered with lush pink and white roses adorned the walls. And, of course, Delmonico’s, the most popular restaurant in the city, had provided the extensive buffet.
And not even that was enough. It was common practice here to depart the party with a favor or two. At a ball last week, the host had gifted solid gold pencil cases and porcelain figurines to her guests. Whatever Mrs. Billings planned for this evening, no doubt it would be comparable.
Nora had weightier issues on her mind, namely getting herself back to London. She examined the sea of dancers on the floor. The ball was in full swing, but Julius had disappeared on her. Again. If she did not know better, she’d think the man was trying to avoid her.
Which made no sense. They needed to circulate together to attract attention. News of the
engagement had spread but no one seemed overly shocked or scandalized. For his part, Julius had acted perfectly respectable thus far, merely a doting fiancé smitten with his choice of bride, before wandering off into the throng of male guests.
She caught a flash of brownish-blond hair and found him in deep discussion with two men across the room, one shoulder propped against the wall, a glass of champagne in his hand. He seemed right at home, comfortable in his own handsome skin, even surrounded by the blue bloods of society who’d reportedly rejected him over the years. How did he accomplish it, to fit in wherever he went? She had struggled for years with a father who didn’t want her, a society that curtailed her individuality, and a world that viewed women as second-class citizens.
She pushed her way through the crowd, closer, until she stood in his line of sight. Catching his eye, she motioned to the dance floor.
Raising a brow, he mouthed, Later. Then he straightened and led the two men farther into the bowels of the mansion. Farther away from her.
Nora tried not to gape as her blood simmered. The nerve of that man. Had he forgotten their purpose? This was unacceptable. He could not ignore her. He hadn’t even asked her to dance.
She clenched her fists. As far as outrageous fiancés went, Julius Hatcher left much to be desired.
Whirling away from the dance floor, she took a step toward the card room—and two young women suddenly blocked her path. Nora drew up short and tried to place their names. Both had brown hair, were about her same age, and dressed in the latest Worth gowns.
“You are she. You are Lady Nora,” one of them said, her eyes wide.
The other woman took Nora’s elbow and began leading her toward the edge of the room, where the crowd had thinned. “We have been dying to meet you. I am Kathleen Appleton.”
“And I am Anne Elliot. You’re the one who snagged Mr. Hatcher.”
Nora dipped her chin and tried to look pleased. “Nice to meet you both. I suppose I have snagged him.” For the time being.
“There is no need for modesty, my lady.” Anne leaned in. “Julius Hatcher is the most delicious man in New York.”
