Charles smiled wider. “You see? I’ve not much to offer a girl.”
“That’s not true! You’re handsome, and kind, and smart. Your buildings are changing the face of this city, and for the better. You’d be a catch for any girl,” she said loyally, knowing it was true.
“Ah, enough about me. What’s all this I hear about you and Daniel McCaffrey?” he asked softly.
The clatter of hooves and carriage wheels on cobblestones turned their heads. Callie and her grandmother had arrived.
Charles surprised Genevieve by folding her into a warm hug. “It’ll keep, little sister. Just make sure he’s worthy of you.”
“Charles, may I ask a favor of you?”
He stepped back and regarded her quizzically. “Anything.”
“Would you have any time to spare in the next day or so?”
“For you? Of course. What do you need?”
Genevieve quietly relayed her request, and Charles’s eyebrows raised in alarm.
“Not unless you tell me why,” he countered. “Does it have to do with this?” He gestured toward her eye.
Genevieve sighed with impatience. “Don’t you trust me?”
Charles looked affronted. “Of course. But I also know you’re the first person to wade into trouble if there’s any about.”
“Then surely you’ll be comforted by my being as cautious as possible,” she snapped.
Her brother shook his head at her slowly, and Genevieve knew she had won. Gavin would never have backed down, but Charles, she suspected, understood and respected the need for secrets. She believed he harbored more than a few of his own.
“We’ll start tomorrow,” he conceded, grudgingly accepting a kiss on the cheek. “Once you wake up. But Genevieve …” She paused on the threshold, waiting. “If you spot any trouble tonight, stay out of it, won’t you?”
Her anxiety over the upcoming evening, which had lulled in response to their plans, awakened anew.
“I’ll try,” she promised. Charles didn’t look particularly reassured, but it was the best she could manage, as well as being the truth. All she could do was try.
At long last, the blasted parade was starting.
Daniel tugged at the kerchief tied around his throat and scowled at nobody in particular. He felt ridiculous. An elbow dug into his right side.
“You certainly look the part, McCaffrey.”
Daniel glowered at Rupert. “You’re one to talk. I’ve seen fewer ruffles on ladies’ gowns. What are you doing here, anyway? Aren’t you in mourning?”
Rupert shrugged. “Amos insisted I come. Funny, he’s become as obsessed with society as Elmira was. He’s demanding a full report on how many condolences I receive.” Rupert was dressed as a courtier from Louis XVI’s court, in a lavish, deep-blue jacket with gold trim and lace protruding from the sleeves. He sported a long, curled wig, and had added a small patch to the upper left corner of his mouth. His one gesture toward his fiancée’s mother’s death was a black armband, stark against the blue velvet of his coat.
“What is that thing on your lip?”
“It’s a beauty mark.”
Daniel raised a sardonic brow at his friend.
Rupert drew himself up with dignity. “They were all the rage in the late eighteenth century. I was aiming for authenticity. I thought I’d best look wealthy, despite my reputation as a fortune hunter.”
“You are a fortune hunter,” Daniel remarked dryly.
Rupert tipped him a look. “Not anymore.”
“How romantic of you.”
Rupert snorted. “Now who’s being a woman? There’s no place for romance in a marriage like mine. It’s a business transaction. You know it, I know it, and Esmie knows it.”
“You deserve better,” Daniel replied softly, keeping his gaze to the first of the guests, who were beginning to march across the stage, showing off their costumes.
“Esmie’s not a bad sort,” Rupert replied, just as softly. “She’s actually quite sweet.” Daniel looked at him sharply, wondering again what sort of truce the pair had formed.
“Won’t there be services for Elmira?” Daniel asked quietly.
“Amos wants to wait until the police have figured out what happened.”
“Aren’t they looking at Tommy?” He kept his voice just above a whisper.
“Ironclad alibi, apparently.” Rupert assumed a somber expression as Matilda Lemoyne, in a stiff black-and-white concoction meant to represent the Queen of Spades, paused and offered tearful condolences on the recent tragedy. “Thank you,” he murmured, patting the society matron’s hand. “Of course, I had to attend tonight. She would have wanted a representative from the family here.” Mrs. Lemoyne nodded in understanding, her brow puckered in concern, but shot a more cautious look at Daniel, as if unsure how to relate to him now that it was known he hailed from Five Points.
He bared his teeth in response. Mrs. Lemoyne uttered a tiny shriek, mostly unheard in the din of the crowd, and hastily retreated.
Rupert gazed at Daniel incredulously. Daniel gave an irritated shrug in response.
“Quit scaring the locals,” Rupert admonished. “Your future mother-in-law wasn’t murdered, after all.”
Daniel huffed, mightily wishing for a drink and tugging at the kerchief around his neck once more. He felt himself a more intense object of scrutiny than usual tonight. Some stared openly, but the majority only glanced his way as they whispered in small clumps. And no wonder: the revelation that he and Tommy Meade had been young ruffians from Five Points had been the topic of gossip columnists for days now. That and Elmira Bradley’s grisly death, the details of which had somehow been leaked to the press. The fact that these two events had occurred in the same house, and in close proximity to each other, had set off a maelstrom of salacious, speculative articles.
It had been a busy, and Daniel guessed profitable, few days for the papers.
The results of the press’s constant attention were apparent tonight: partygoers ebbed and flowed around him and Rupert as if there were an unseen barrier surrounding them, afraid to sully themselves with their presence; a few, like Mrs. Lemoyne, braved this boundary to approach Rupert, but otherwise it seemed society was collectively still deciding what to do with them.
Daniel scanned the stage for Genevieve, but
