She stared back at him with an intensity that might have brought a lesser man to his knees.
Something kept drawing them together, some unseen strand of fate that intertwined her path with his. He wasn’t sure to what purpose yet, or whether these entangled threads boded well or ill, but there was no longer any denying their presence. Secrets he had kept in the dark for decades were being teased out of him and into the light, and something about Genevieve Stewart was the reason. He’d given up on religion long ago but was Irish enough to believe he had a destiny to fulfill. And whatever it was, this woman was now part of it.
A hush drew over the crowd as Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, accompanied by Esmie and Rupert, descended partway down the vast staircase. The musicians in the adjacent ballroom ceased playing, and the crowd gazed at the party assembled on the stairs expectantly. Genevieve cut her eyes from his, turning her attention briefly to a young, dark-haired woman who emerged from the crowd at her elbow, then to the group assembled on the stairs. Daniel followed suit, noting that Esmie, while still pale, appeared composed. Daniel was probably the only person at the ball who could interpret the tightness around Rupert’s eyes.
Amos launched into a speech welcoming the crowd, gearing up toward his formal announcement of the engagement. As Rupert had said, it was just what had to be done. His friend had, in essence, lived on the good graces of hostesses for years now, transforming himself from the gangly, awkward youth Daniel had first met at age thirteen into the suave, urbane party guest he was now. As Mrs. Bradley had hinted, there was a constant shortage of men at events, particularly during the winter season, and Rupert had gladly filled the role, exchanging his flirtations and wit for free food and drink. But his father had finally died, he’d inherited the earldom, and the weight of familial responsibility had come crashing down on his shoulders.
Daniel listened to Amos with half an ear, shifting his attention from the spectacle on the staircase to the young woman in the green dress, then back again. Genevieve’s shoulders were set, her head was held high, and she appeared to be listening politely, but her eyes, too, discreetly drew across the crowd at the base of the stairs toward him again and again. During one of these glances, their gazes caught and held, broken only when the assembled crowd burst into applause.
Rupert managed a smile as the engagement was made official and reached down to clasp Esmie’s gloved hand in his own. She looked at the hand wrapped around hers, then at Rupert’s face. The tiniest, startled flash of a smile darted across her face in response, there and gone like the quicksilver of a tadpole glinting beneath a pond’s surface. In that wink of a moment, her entire face changed. It seemed to light from within, illuminating a delicacy of features he hadn’t previously noticed. She had a slender, slightly aquiline nose, and a sweetly rosy mouth set over a graceful jaw. In fact, for a split second the Bradley heiress appeared rather … beautiful. Daniel’s breath caught unexpectedly, he was so surprised by the sudden shift.
But then her face collapsed into misery again, her cheeks flaring patches of red as she blushed furiously at the attention. She pulled her hand from Rupert’s and clasped both hands in front of her, smiling uncertainly at the crowd. Rupert gently regained the lost hand and led her down the stairs, into throngs of waiting well-wishers.
Daniel wondered what had transpired between them after the incident in the library. Whatever was said, it appeared a fragile truce had been reached.
“Ladies and gentlemen, while we have you …” Amos’s booming voice cut through the clamor, and the crowd quieted again. “You all know I’m not from these parts.” A light laugh rose from the group, though to Daniel’s ears it held an undercurrent of anxiety. Drawing attention to one’s status as an outsider was usually the last thing people wanted. He saw a frown furrow Elmira’s forehead.
“But I’ve been in New York long enough to know that this city’s politics could use some fresh blood. Yes, Tweed was sent down some time ago, but there’s still work to be done. And seeing as how it’s the night of my daughter’s engagement and you’re all enjoying that champagne on me, I’ll ask you to indulge me a moment and give a quick listen to mayoral candidate Thomas Meade.”
Every hair on Daniel’s arms seemed to stand at once, and he could feel the muscles in his face clench with anger.
Tommy was here? How on earth had he wrangled an invitation to a society ball?
The crowd appeared a bit confused, and Daniel saw some other angry faces—including that of William Vanderbilt, whose narrowed eyes betrayed how ambushed he felt—but most of the assembled guests offered polite applause as Tommy, in a surprisingly well-cut set of evening clothes, materialized from the throng and mounted a few steps, waving toward the guests in a practiced political way.
Daniel took a quick scan of the crowd, making sure to check the corners. Sure enough, the same henchman from the street was sulking against a far wall, staring straight at him. Daniel locked his eyes with the bodyguard’s muddy brown ones until the man shifted his gaze back to Tommy. Daniel noticed the henchman catch Tommy’s attention before nodding back in Daniel’s direction. A slight smile played on the
