Would she be an asset or a hindrance? Only time would tell.
A light knock sounded on his door, interrupting his train of thought. Daniel sighed and removed his boots from the furniture.
“Yes?”
Asher, his personal secretary, thumped into his office and handed him a note. “This just arrived.” He glanced at the desk and frowned. Daniel followed Asher’s disapproving gaze, guiltily noticing the dirt and scuff marks his boots had left behind on the expansive surface.
“I’m sure Mrs. Kelly will be able to get the scratches out,” Daniel said, brushing some of the dirt away with his hand.
“Probably, but I’m the one that’s gonna get an earful about it.” Asher shook his head at Daniel and stalked out of the room. Daniel sighed. The majority of the people who worked for him were people he’d known growing up in Five Points, and they had no reservations about informing him when he’d acted like an ass. Asher had been a prizefighter in his younger days, and his enormous size, scarred face, and often angry countenance had seriously frightened several of his clients. But Asher, like all those in Daniel’s employ, was hardworking and exceedingly loyal. Daniel figured anyone who couldn’t handle his staff’s often less-than-polished manners didn’t need to be a client of his. Another luxury of Jacob’s money: he could afford to be choosy.
Returning his attention to the newly arrived note, Daniel flipped it over and noted it was from Rupert.
He read the missive quickly, and felt his mood, already made introspective by the confounding Miss Stewart, plummet.
Cursing under his breath, Daniel tossed the note aside and leaned back in his chair again, feeling his jaw clench in helplessness and frustration.
It was done, then. Rupert reported he’d come close to not going through with it, but in the end he had proposed to Esmie Bradley, and she had accepted.
Daniel closed his eyes. His friend was deliberately choosing an unhappy life for the sake of family duty.
Didn’t you do the same? The thought floated into his mind and lodged there stubbornly.
Daniel frowned, swiveling his chair to stare contemplatively through the window at Gramercy Park’s trim paths.
It wasn’t the same. He wasn’t forcing himself into a loveless union.
But you’re forcing yourself to be alone, his mind whispered back.
He pushed back from the window more violently than he’d intended. “Asher!” he bellowed.
Asher’s scowling visage popped into view. “Yes?” he growled.
“My evening clothes are ready for this weekend?”
Asher nodded.
“Good. The engagement will be announced after all.”
Asher grunted impassively, then turned to go.
“And Asher?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Is the other matter I asked you to take care of finished?” he asked quietly.
Asher’s homely, ravaged face softened into what was almost a smile. “Yeh, it’s all set,” he replied. “Paddy and Billy got that family outa Cherry Street and resettled uptown.”
“Good,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair again. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, brooding. It was good, a bright spot in what seemed like a dark, thankless world today. “Good.”
CHAPTER 9
Daniel blinked at what was the most lavish ballroom he’d ever encountered. Outside of some royal palaces in Europe, that is.
Which was clearly the association Elmira Bradley sought to invoke.
The grand room was massive, two stories high, the walls decorated with paintings in the French Rococo manner. Though as Daniel peered at one more closely, he reassessed: they were originals, undoubtedly brought over from France, as were the majority of the furnishings and other decorations, he’d wager. Probably even the marble under his feet.
Where was Rupert? The sole reason he was at the Bradleys’ monster of a house—and the elaborate exterior matched the opulence of the interior; there were pointed towers on the thing—was to support his friend through what undoubtedly would be a spectacle of an engagement announcement.
An added bonus, of course, was that this was a social event at which he was unlikely to run into Genevieve Stewart, given her family history with the Bradleys. For almost two weeks, he had expected his revelation about his origins to result in a story in the paper, but as with their encounter in the alley, she’d surprised him yet again.
Which was both impressive and disquieting, in equal measure. He wanted her to stay away from investigating Robin Hood, even if portions of his past had to be the proverbial sacrificial lambs. So far, she hadn’t taken the bait.
Daniel delved deeper into the crush of bodies representing many of New York’s most exclusive families. Except for the Astors, of course. The Bradleys were still new money, after all, and far too gauche for the likes of the closest thing New York had to royalty.
“Mr. McCaffrey,” Mrs. Bradley trilled, emerging from the crowd in a blinding flash of peacock-blue silk and a headdress with matching feathers. “How wonderful to see you. It’s so refreshing when gentlemen support our young ladies by attending functions. So many are too concerned with business matters to keep these late hours, you know,” she added with a significant glance at the cigar-chewing man dutifully trailing in her wake. “I believe you know my husband?”
Amos Bradley clasped Daniel’s hand in a shake so firm it was just short of uncomfortable. He had met the man on several other occasions, and liked him. Amos was, physically, everything his wife was not: a towering figure with a large, well-earned belly, in contrast to Elmira’s diminutive, bony form. He moved and spoke slowly and with deliberation, while she darted and feinted among the crowd, her sharp eyes constantly roving, seeking the person or persons she believed could best advance her family’s place in society.
True to form, Mrs. Bradley excused herself and flitted away, leaving the men to converse alone. Amos watched her disappear, then slid his heavy-lidded gaze back to Daniel, lazily chomping his unlit cigar.
Daniel wasn’t fooled by Amos’s somnolent manner. His indolent appearance and large size had initially lulled many of New York’s businessmen into believing Amos’s mind was as slow
