Daniel leaned back in his own chair, swirling his wine. “Why were you following me?” he asked bluntly.
“I told you. I’m researching the Robin Hood thefts.”
“And I told you, I don’t know anything about Mr. Hood,” he countered.
She shook her head at him slowly. “But I think you do.”
He raised a brow at her. “And what makes you think that?”
“You and your associates were discussing Robin Hood in Five Points the night we met,” she began, but Daniel interrupted her.
“Yes, we were talking about the thefts,” he said. “Everyone talks about them. Neither I nor they have any specific information for you, Miss Stewart. Or should I say Miss Palmer.”
She put down her fork. “Well, what about you? Is there anything about yourself you’d like to tell me?”
Daniel laughed, a rich, warm sound. “I haven’t spoken to the press in seventeen years. What makes you think I’d tell you anything new?”
“Then why am I here?” she shot back. “As we’ve established, you could easily have evaded me tonight, and yet here we are at Delmonico’s. Why? And for goodness’ sake, call me Genevieve.”
For a moment Daniel appeared slightly baffled, as if he didn’t know himself why she was there. He seemed to consider her, his eyes glittering in the candlelight.
“Perhaps I simply enjoy your company,” he said finally, swallowing the last of his wine. “Genevieve.”
Pleased she appeared to have gotten under his skin, Genevieve sipped her own wine and waited. Maybe silence would be her friend this time.
She was rewarded when he nodded to himself, seeming to come to some kind of internal decision.
“I know there has been speculation as to why I returned to the city after such a prolonged absence,” he began. Genevieve’s pulse began to quicken. After years of avoiding the press, the elusive Daniel McCaffrey seemed to be consenting to an interview. She withdrew her notebook from her satchel and raised it at him questioningly.
Daniel nodded, and she put pencil to paper.
“The truth is,” he continued, when it was clear she was ready, “I was hiding.”
Genevieve was surprised. She didn’t know what she had expected to hear, but that wasn’t it.
“Hiding?” she repeated.
“Jacob’s fortune brings with it a great deal of responsibility, Miss Palmer. And truthfully, I inherited at such a young age that I didn’t know what to do with the money. I apprenticed in the law, as you know, and practiced here for a while. But I knew I wanted to do more. Could do more.”
Genevieve wrote furiously. “Such as?” she prompted.
“Helping the city’s less fortunate. Improving housing conditions, in particular.”
“And why this cause? There are many ways to use a fortune to help the needy.”
He raised a brow at her. “Because I was born in Five Points,” he said.
Genevieve barely had time to stop her jaw from dropping open. She’d just been given the scoop of the year.
Of the decade.
“So how did you come to be Jacob’s heir?”
Daniel smiled slightly and refilled their glasses, emptying the bottle. “That, Miss Palmer, will remain between me and Jacob.”
That line of questioning was clearly a dead end. She switched back to a topic he seemed willing to discuss. “And you had to hide because …”
“Because for a long time, New York held too many memories. I needed to spend time out of the city to see it clearly. To see what I could do with the money, how I could maximize its use, without those memories crowding in on me.”
“What kind of memories?” she asked softly.
The door swung open and a waiter entered, inquiring if they cared for any dessert. Daniel raised a brow at her.
“No thank you, but I would take coffee.”
“And a chestnut Nesselrode,” Daniel added. Genevieve raised a brow back at him.
“I enjoy sweets,” he responded mildly.
She waited for the waiter to leave the room, then impatiently poised her pencil again, trying another tactic. “Can you give specifics on how you plan to aid in housing reform?”
“No,” he answered. “That is all I am prepared to say for now.”
Genevieve tapped her pencil on her pad once, thinking to herself. “Robin Hood is concerned with the housing conditions in Five Points,” she ventured.
“So his letters to the newspaper state.”
“The Globe has received countless missives about him,” she continued. “Some expressing horror that he is still at large, an equal number cheering him on. The mayor seems quite determined. There’s talk of replacing the police commissioner if he’s not caught soon.”
Daniel regarded her impassively. “Is that surprising to you?”
“I’m not sure it’s entirely fair. Besides.” Genevieve shifted in her seat, a little uncertain. In for a penny, she thought, and plunged on. “The mayor is forming a committee to assess the situation around housing in impoverished areas, to make recommendations.” She kept a careful eye on Daniel’s face and almost missed the fleeting expression of sharp interest that flared and just as quickly disappeared under an ironic smile.
“A committee,” he dryly remarked. “Surely that will solve everything.”
Genevieve felt herself flush, even though she had exactly zero involvement with said committee. “Isn’t it better than nothing?”
Daniel took a sip of wine and looked thoughtful. “It depends on who is involved,” he finally said.
“Andrew Huffington, Reginald Cotswold, Ernest Clark,” she began. “Ted Beekman,” she added. At her ex-fiancé’s name, Daniel raised his brow again, but said nothing.
Rupert must have filled him in. Genevieve felt herself flush again.
“One of the Peter Stuyvesants, but I don’t know if it is Junior or Senior; Commissioner Simons; the deputy mayor …” she forged ahead, then trailed off, uncertain. “Perhaps something will come of it,” she finished lamely.
“It won’t.”
Anger flared. “Why mightn’t it? If Robin Hood’s actions are raising awareness—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It’s a sham.” Something lit in his eyes, and he leaned toward her so abruptly that Genevieve had to stop herself from instinctively flinching backward.
“Who stands to gain from the development of
