He was also quite funny. And though most of society merely tolerated his wife, he seemed truly smitten with her. Part of how the Bradleys had climbed the social ladder so far, so fast, was by husbands badgering their wives into accepting Mrs. Bradley’s invitations, as the men were keen to stay in Amos’s good graces.
“Seems your friend will marry my daughter,” Amos said, watching Daniel with assessing eyes.
He nodded in return. “I have heard so, yes.”
Amos nodded back, moving the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I know he’s penniless, despite that fancy title everyone’s so impressed with.” Daniel could not think of a suitable reply to this. Rupert kept up appearances, but since his father had died the year prior and his already-meager allowance had stopped, Daniel had taken over paying for much of his friend’s wardrobe and his bachelor quarters at the Benedick, a lodging house frequented mainly by artists on Washington Square’s east side.
“He’d better be good to her, or I’ll rip his head off,” Amos remarked, as if commenting on the flower arrangements. A frisson of unease settled between Daniel’s shoulders. He knew, despite the casual delivery, that Amos Bradley was serious as death.
“Make sure he knows, will you?” Amos continued, allowing his lazy gaze to travel the ballroom.
“I shall,” Daniel replied, just as neutrally. He did not want to make an enemy of Amos Bradley.
“Elmira’s happy.” Whether Amos meant with the engagement, the ball, or both was unclear.
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
“What do you think of the old pile of bricks?” Amos gestured around the room with his cigar before firmly clamping it between his teeth again.
“It’s impressive,” Daniel replied honestly.
“Elmira wanted it to look like a French chateau.”
Daniel made a noncommittal noise of assent.
“She’s happy,” Amos remarked again. “Once Esmie marries, she wants to put Rupert’s family crest on the door.” Daniel had noticed a crest upon his entrance and now realized it had been fabricated for the Bradleys. “Speaking of, there’s your friend.” Amos languidly gestured his grand head behind Daniel’s shoulder. “Go tell him what I said, won’t you.”
It was a command rather than a suggestion.
Daniel obeyed, turning on his heel and making his way through the press of bodies toward Rupert, who pounced upon him gratefully.
“Daniel! I’ve been looking for you. Come, we need to speak.” Daniel fought his way through the crowd again, following his friend out of the ballroom, across the grand entryway, and through a massive mahogany door into a hushed library.
Rupert shut the door firmly behind him and leaned his back against it. The library had walls of bookshelves that spanned floor to ceiling along all four walls, with what appeared to be recessed reading nooks carefully inserted halfway down each wall, and large, comfortable-looking leather armchairs arranged in the center of the room. As Rupert made his way to a sideboard and poured each of them a large snifter of brandy, Daniel inspected the books curiously. They were old, leather-bound volumes, but the shades of each binding had been carefully coordinated, and Daniel wondered whether they were actually read or simply for show.
Rupert handed Daniel his glass with a hefty sigh. “I had to get a moment of quiet.”
Daniel accepted his drink. “How are you holding up?”
Rupert waved the air about him, dismissing the question. “How are you?”
He’d confided in Rupert about Genevieve, and Gerry Knox’s body in the alley, and about his run-in with Tommy Meade. His old friend was perhaps the one person alive, with the exception of his cousin Kathleen, who knew his true origins.
Who knew how he’d inherited Jacob’s fortune.
“I don’t think she’s here,” Daniel replied, swirling his brandy. Rupert raised his brows.
“That’s a stroke of luck. Do you think she’s getting closer?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I’d put her off, but … I don’t know. She’s tenacious.”
“At least your pursuer is attractive.” Rupert snorted into his own glass. “Can’t say the same for mine.”
Daniel was shocked. Rupert was often flippant, but this unkindness was unlike him.
“Don’t be an ass,” he said shortly. “Where is your intended?”
“She’s around here somewhere, buried under mountains of yellow shiny stuff.” Rupert gestured wildly at the area around his neck and shoulders in an apparent attempt to visually describe the offending gown. “Looks like a pile of scrambled egg.” He shot Daniel an accusing look. “Why is it that you Americans insist upon everything being so over-the-top?”
“We’re inspired by the grandeur of our own landscape?” Daniel suggested, his reply falling on deaf ears as Rupert built his complaint into a tirade.
“God, man, the misery of it. You don’t know the teas, the musicales, the luncheons I’ve had to endure these past weeks. Esmie’s all right, I guess; I wouldn’t know, the girl hardly says two words together. We’re rarely without that shrew of a mother of hers, who talks enough for the whole city, and the both of them always decked out in the most garish of getups.” Rupert closed his eyes briefly, jaw muscles clenching for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled brightly at Daniel. “But congratulate me, my good friend. She’s now wearing my grandmother’s diamond.” Rupert stared into his drink for a moment, pondering. Daniel allowed the silence to unfold between them, letting Rupert gather his thoughts.
“We’ve nothing, mate, you know that, don’t you?” Rupert glanced at Daniel inquisitively. “My family, I mean. Not a sodding farthing. Father squandered it all. The entire Milton fortune.” Daniel, who had visited Rupert’s crumbling family estate during school holidays, nodded somberly. “And if it was just me, I’d say blast it all and try my luck in the West, or take up some trade, or … I don’t know.” He looked at Daniel helplessly. “But
