Magnate by Joanna Shupe (18)

Chapter Eighteen

“Good morning, Lizzie,” Brendan said as he entered the breakfast room. “I’m pleased to see you looking so well today.”

Lizzie ducked her head, avoiding her brother-in-law’s assessing gaze. Did everyone know of last night’s argument and . . . afterward? “Good morning,” she said into her cup, just before taking a long sip of coffee.

Brendan must have noticed her reaction because he held up a hand. “All I know was that Emmett was livid. When he is stomping about the house, it’s like a horde of invaders storming the castle gates. He’d never hurt you, but I also know how unforgiving he can be.”

That was an understatement. Brendan couldn’t have learned of the particulars regarding the East Coast stock purchase, only that Lizzie and Emmett had disagreed over something. And though she’d confided her misery to Edith, complaining to Emmett’s brother seemed disloyal. “Yes, he was certainly worked up.”

Brendan set a china plate full of food on the linen tablecloth, then lowered carefully into a chair. “Will you stay and have coffee with me?” He nodded toward her empty cup.

She agreed and poured coffee for them both. They made idle conversation for a moment or two before Brendan dismissed the footman hovering nearby. When they were alone, he said, “My brother is making you unhappy, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.” No use pretending.

“I had such high hopes after the storm. I thought . . . well, I thought he’d changed.”

“As did I.” Thoughts of last evening came back to her, starting with Emmett’s anger and accusations. Henry’s pleading. The women who had ignored her because she’d dared to use her brain for something more than planning parties. Was Will right? Was she a fool to risk everything she had on this idea?

“Brendan, what will happen if my investment firm causes me to lose my standing in society? Will Katie and Claire be terribly disappointed?”

“Terribly disappointed that you can no longer guarantee their success?”

“Yes.”

“Lizzie, there are few guarantees in this life. No one expects you to put aside your happiness for Claire and Katie. Besides, Emmett claims their fat dowries will be enough.” Brendan chuckled and picked up his knife and fork. “Though I admit I didn’t believe him, which is why I stupidly meddled in your dinner at Sherry’s that night.”

“What do you mean, meddled?”

An odd look passed over his face. “He never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“No, nothing.” He focused hard on his plate and carefully cut into his sausage.

Brendan was a terrible liar. “What didn’t Emmett tell me?”

Grimacing, Brendan placed his knife and fork on the plate. “He’s going to kill me,” he muttered.

“Brendan.”

“About that second dinner, the one at Sherry’s.” She stared at him blankly, and he continued, “About how I tricked him into showing up.”

Her ears began to ring, but she forced out, “Tricked him, how?”

“I thought you knew. That I told him he was meeting his mi—” Brendan cleared his throat. “Someone else in that dining room.”

“But he asked me to have dinner that night. We had planned to meet.”

Brendan winced and said nothing.

Her mind turned this over, and she added up the facts. “He wanted to cancel, but you never passed the message along,” she guessed, and Brendan’s heavy exhale confirmed it.

She slumped in her seat. Emmett had . . . tried to cancel on her. Instead, he’d planned to meet his mistress for dinner, which was why the room had been set up in such a way. So intimate. For someone else. Embarrassment and misery wedged in her throat. Was anything between them not a lie? First the blackmail to marry her, and now this....

“Lizzie, I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I thought the association would do Emmett some good. But I never thought that he would try to seduce you there, or that your brother would catch the two of you together.”

Lizzie rubbed her forehead. Emmett had been tricked into meeting her. Emmett Cavanaugh and his society wife, a woman from one of the oldest families in New York but naïve enough to believe he’d truly wanted her. Even after she’d learned of the blackmail, that night at Sherry’s had always comforted her. The knowledge that he had seduced her, had pursued her.

But he hadn’t been pursuing her. He’d been trying to avoid her.

A fist-sized lump settled behind her breastbone. No doubt she’d been a convenient outlet during the storm, a warm, willing body to replace the many mistresses he still entertained.

Pushing away from the table, she rose quickly. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to move, to leave. To get somewhere private where she could try to make sense of everything she’d learned.

“Lizzie, wait!” Brendan clutched her arm. “Please. I know your marriage may have started under less than ideal conditions, but it’s clear the two of you have feelings for one another. Do not let what I’ve told you make you think less of him. He cares for you, I know it.”

Lizzie knew no such thing. No wonder Emmett fought her at every turn. She could hardly fault him, considering she served as a reminder of everything he hadn’t wished for. Everything he’d been blackmailed into accepting. Ice settled around her heart, a frozen hopelessness gifted by the stark reality of her marriage.

“Do not worry,” she told her brother-in-law. “I do not blame you. I blame myself.”

* * *

While trains were convenient they were also messy and loud. They spewed ash and burning cinders into the air. The wheels rattled as they churned, the undercarriage jostling and pinging in an unholy racket. Still, they carried you away from places—places in which you’d rather not stay.

Lizzie watched the countryside fly past the train window. She’d needed to escape the house, escape New York, as quickly as possible. The destination hadn’t much mattered. This train was headed west, away from a mansion full of distrust and lies, and that was all she cared about. Of course, she could disembark and catch an eastbound train whenever she was ready . . . but would she ever be ready to face Emmett again?

She sighed and settled deeper into the plush velvet bench. Trains were comforting to her, a reminder of her family legacy. Her father and brother had overseen the construction of these cars, these rails. Over the years, she had attended ceremonies for station openings, helped to christen new railcars, even weighed in on carpet and fabric choices for the interiors. Northeast Railroad was in her blood, too.

Today, however, she was not traveling as Mrs. Elizabeth Cavanaugh, née Sloane, in a private Pullman car, as her brother always insisted. She was plain Lizzie, riding with the rest of the passengers, just one lost soul amongst hundreds of strangers. Perhaps the journey could give her the time and space to find herself once more.

“It’s almost time for lunch, madam,” Pauline said from the other end of the small bench, breaking into Lizzie’s reverie. “Shall I go and secure us seats in the dining saloon?”

Food did not sound appealing in the least, but Lizzie knew her maid had been increasingly concerned on the journey over her employer’s silence. Not to mention that the poor woman hadn’t blinked when Lizzie told her they were leaving for an indefinite amount of time. Therefore, it seemed cruel to refuse small courtesies. “Yes, thank you, Pauline. Did you send the telegram to Miss Grayson, telling her I would be away?”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t say when you was to return, however.”

The fishing expedition was not lost on Lizzie. “Excellent, thank you. I don’t expect it will be long. Just enough time to think, Pauline.”

The other woman nodded and rose from the bench, leaving Lizzie to stare out the window. A few minutes later, she felt a presence next to her. “Did you get us seats?” she asked, but received no answer. She glanced over and found a man there—

“Henry!” She straightened, blinking at him. “Good heavens. What are you doing here?”

Removing his derby, Henry Rutlidge slid closer. “I came to find you, of course.”

“I don’t understand. How did you know I would be here, on this train?”

Reaching out, he clasped her hand. “I know you’re running away from him.” Lizzie immediately tried to withdraw her hand from his grasp, but Henry held fast. “No, wait,” he said, his eyes pleading with her. “Let me come with you. I’ll help you. We can return to New York and I will use my influence to expedite your annulment.”

“Henry, I hadn’t planned anything beyond getting on the train. Please do not force me to make decisions right now.”

“Lizzie, in your heart you know what you are doing. You’re leaving him. For good. And about time, I might add.”

“Stop.” She jerked her hand back, and this time he let her go. “You’ve made it clear you do not approve of my marriage, but you cannot make assumptions. How can you think to know my mind when I hardly know it myself?”

He shot to his feet. “If that were true, then you would not have left in such a hurry. You would also know when you plan to return. Why do you bother lying to me? You forget how well I know you.”

On the contrary, in the past few weeks she’d realized how utterly mismatched the two of them would have been. “You do not know me nearly as well as you think. If you did, you would see why your presence on this train is pure madness, Henry.”

“Wrong.” He paced as much as one could in the small sitting area of the car. “I’ve known you since we were children, Lizzie. Cavanaugh’s known you for what, three months? You and I are so much alike. We make sense. Cavanaugh is nothing but a lowborn laborer. He’s—”

“That’s enough,” she snapped, then glanced around. Thankfully, the car was not crowded, the other passengers far enough away that they would not overhear. Still, she lowered her voice. “Do not say any more. You sound like an aristocratic snob, Henry. My husband is hardworking and a good man.”

The train swayed, and Henry had to reach out to steady himself on a chair. “Do not tell me you actually have feelings for the big ape.”

“If you call him another name, I shall switch trains at the next stop—after I throw your baggage into the wilds of Pennsylvania.”

“Touching, but you should know that your husband doesn’t reciprocate your tender feelings. If he did, then he certainly wouldn’t have told me where to find you. How else did I learn which train you had taken?”

Lizzie lost her breath. “He did what?”

Henry shrugged. “Even he realizes I am the man you should be married to. So do not think he is at home, pining for you. He’s probably trolling the vaudeville houses as we speak, looking for an actress to—”

“Do not say it,” she gritted out, though there was every possibility Henry was correct. How could Emmett have thrown Henry at her like this? Only last night, he’d forbidden her to even be alone with the other man. She closed her eyes, hurt and confusion now strangling her insides.

A terrible pressure built behind her lids, a signal that her emotions were about to crash. She bit her lip, trying to hold back until she could be alone.

Henry shifted closer. “Fine. But you should also know that Cavanaugh’s planning to take over your brother’s company. I have it on good authority that he’s trying to bribe the Northeast board to gain a majority share.”

She blinked at Henry. “What? Why would Emmett want to take over Will’s company?”

“As revenge for forcing the marriage between you, obviously.”

Her chest burned, a bitter hurt mixed with fury. Damn Emmett Cavanaugh. She knew he hated Will, but would he really try to take away her family legacy? Granted, there had been some financial difficulty of late—

Oh, heavens. The balance sheets from the storm . . . It had obviously been a railroad company. Had Lizzie been looking at Northeast Railroad’s books? If so, then Will had been bilking investors by selling more stock than he should, which meant he could be investigated. Possibly prosecuted for fraud.

Only one person could answer these questions, and he was not aboard the train. And all this speculation produced nothing but an ache in her temples.

“Henry, you need to stop.”

“Fine, but let me ask you: Who is here now? Who has rushed to your side to help you? I have wanted you for years.”

“Yet you did nothing. That is not the way I wish to be wanted by my husband.”

His expression clouded. She knew he didn’t understand, but how could she begin to describe the desperation that overcame her every time Emmett touched her? The need for him was essential, as necessary as air and water.

She didn’t prefer to be worshipped from afar while a man bided his time. She would rather be ravished and devoured by a man who took what he wanted, damn the consequences.

“I do want you, Lizzie. I swear it.”

“Then why did you leave for Maine instead of attending my birthday party last year? Why did you escort other women to dinner? Or take them sailing?”

“Because I needed to live first, before settling down. I was not ready to marry you then.”

“But you are now?” she asked with a skeptical tone.

“Yes!” he nearly shouted. “And if my doing those things upset you, why did you not mention them before now?”

“They didn’t upset me. I was never jealous, only surprised.” Which was true. She’d never cared about what Henry did or who he was with. Not like with Emmett, when the mere thought of him with another woman caused bile to rise in her throat.

Henry frowned, his boyishly handsome face unhappy. “I don’t understand why you are arguing with me. Your husband has turned his back on you, but I’m here. I love you and I want to marry you.”

Suddenly, all became clear. Everything Henry had ever wanted had been handed to him. He’d never had to work, struggle, or fight for anything. Women, money, friends . . . it was all so easy for him. And he couldn’t comprehend why she was denying him what he assumed was his due.

How could she make him understand?

“Henry, you should return to New York. We shall always be friends, but that is all.”

His lips thinned in displeasure, and she could see by the stubborn set of his chin that he didn’t believe her. “You do not mean that. The travel has obviously overset you, and you’re not thinking clearly. I’ll let you rest and then see you for dinner.”

Taking several strides, he reached the door. Before turning the latch, he shot a look over his shoulder. “I care about you, Lizzie. I only want to see you happy.” With that, he disappeared into the vestibule leading to another car.

* * *

Emmett paced the length of his bedroom, uncertainty gnawing at his gut as his feet chewed up the distance. Walk, walk, turn, walk. And back again. That damned letter. He couldn’t get it out of his head. He’d read the thing so many times, the words were committed to memory.

The note was as cold and impersonal as he’d ever seen, but he knew what she meant. Brendan had sworn Emmett was wrong, that she planned to return. But Emmett had been through this before. Another woman, another note . . . and their mother had never returned, either.

Brendan had confessed about his conversation with Elizabeth, that he’d spilled the real reason Emmett had attended the dinner at Sherry’s. Guilt weighed heavily on Brendan, and he’d apologized profusely. Yet Emmett could not be angry with his brother. Emmett alone was the reason his wife had left.

Gone. She was gone.

Even in all the turmoil since the stock purchase, he had never thought she would up and leave. He’d been angry, yes, but he’d assumed she would stand up to him. Yell at him. Poke and prod him until he relented. He had wanted her to prove him wrong. But she hadn’t done any of those things, and now she’d walked away.

He had no intention of letting her go, however.

As soon as he’d finished reading her brief letter, he’d started packing. In the meantime, he’d ordered Kelly to Grand Central Depot to discern her destination. That had been over an hour ago. So where in the hell was Kelly with answers?

With the packing now complete, the wait was intolerable. Emmett strode to the bed and closed his small bag. He’d go to the train station and find her train himself.

Just as he reached to open his door, Kelly burst in, out of breath, his cheeks dry and red from the cold.

“About damned time,” Emmett snapped, stepping around him and into the corridor. He hurried toward the stairs, and Kelly fell into step at his side. “What did you learn?”

“She took the 10:49 Cuyahoga Express.”

“That’s a Northeast train, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kelly replied as they started down the staircase. “But there’s more.” Kelly put a hand on Emmett’s shoulder to stop him. Emmett saw the uneasiness on his friend’s face, the trepidation.

“What is it?”

“There was another person on the train.”

A moment passed as Emmett tried to understand what Kelly was saying. Another person, one whose identity made Kelly uneasy. The pieces fell into place, and Emmett’s free hand clutched at the bannister. Rutlidge. “Son of a bitch.”

Emmett’s teeth ground together, a paltry outlet for the rage currently coursing through him. She’d run off with her ex-beau. Jesus Christ. How could he not have seen this coming? Stupid, so fucking stupid. Emmett wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Here he was, ready to charge after her and bring her back . . . when she’d left him for another man.

Emmett shoved his bag into Kelly’s arms. “Take that back to my room.” He thumped down the steps, trying to keep from hitting something.

“Bish, wait up. Where are you going?” Kelly called from behind. “I’ll come with—”

“Leave me alone. I’m going to swim,” Emmett snapped. “I don’t need a damn nursemaid.”

Several of the footmen and maids visibly shrank from Emmett as he stomped through the house. No doubt his face conveyed precisely what he was feeling, that the tightly held leash on his control was slipping. By the time he stripped down and dove into the heated water of the swimming pool, he could barely breathe. He hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time, so vulnerable and raw. So empty.

Cool silence enveloped him as his arms cut through the water, his legs kicking hard. He did this often for exercise, mostly as a way to keep his head clear. The solitude and the quiet helped him think. He had taught himself to swim years ago, as a boy. It had been either that or drown, considering he’d been tossed into the East River by rival gangs one too many times. More proof that he need not rely on anyone else. The only person you could count on was yourself.

When he returned to the end, he noticed his brother’s boots planted on the tile. Emmett didn’t acknowledge him, just kept going, arms churning and legs pounding. Brendan would try and reason with him, and Emmett felt entirely unreasonable at this moment. There was nothing to say. Nothing he wanted to hear, at least.

So he ignored Brendan and swam until his muscles gave out. When he could no longer lift his arms, he clung to the side of the pool. His lungs bellowed as he struggled for air, and he figured he might as well get it over with. “Well?”

“You’ve got to go after her.”

Emmett made a noise. “The hell I do.”

“Don’t be a fool.” Brendan huffed in annoyance. “You did not see her face this morning, Em. That woman cares about you. She was crushed to learn that you hadn’t met her of your own free will.”

“Yes, crushed enough to run away with Rutlidge,” Emmett muttered.

“That’s just it. I don’t think she ran away with him. The note she left for the girls said she wanted to take some time for herself—”

“Not that she could tell the girls about Rutlidge.” Brendan started to argue, so Emmett held up a hand. “Why would I bother? Give me one good reason to chase her down.”

“Because you love her. And because I suspect she loves you, but you’re both too stubborn to admit it.”

Emmett said nothing, just stared at the far wall. Did he love her?

“At the very least, you must give her a chance to explain. Em, think. For once, pretend this is a company you’re thinking about buying—not your wife. She had years to merge with Rutlidge and resisted him. You know her. This is the woman who walked in off the street and asked you to back her investment company. If she had wanted Rutlidge, she would have married him long before now.”

That did make some sense, he supposed. Elizabeth was nothing if not resourceful. Elizabeth sounds like a woman strong enough to change history, to chart any course she chooses. His own words went through his mind, bringing doubt along with them.

He pushed off from the wall and floated on his back, Hades and Persephone directly above him. He’d always sympathized with Hades, the misunderstood brute who had to resort to trickery to keep a woman. And wasn’t that precisely what you did to Elizabeth by never telling her the truth?

“Also,” Brendan continued, “if she didn’t love you, she never would’ve been so upset over what I said.”

Emmett didn’t know if that was true or not. Women were complicated creatures, which was why he’d avoided anything emotional before now.

“I know it’s easier to believe the worst in people, Em. Less chance of someone’s letting you down that way. But you have to trust her. If she were my wife, I’d be halfway to Ohio by now.”

There was that word again, trust. Hadn’t Elizabeth accused him of the very same thing, of not ever trusting anyone?

“So what would you have me do?” Emmett asked up at Hades. “Chase after her and steal her away from Rutlidge?”

“Well, for starters, get out of the swimming pool, get dressed, and then find a way to stop her train.”

“I can accomplish that with one telegram. The question is, why would I bother?”

Brendan stayed quiet for a long minute. When he spoke, his voice cracked with emotion. “We were too young to chase after her, Emmett. Neither of us had the ability to stop her, and then she was gone.” Emmett heard him swallow, and a sudden tightness lodged in his own throat as well. “Do not squander this opportunity. There may be no getting it back. Even if you fail, at least you’ll have tried. Isn’t Lizzie worth the fight?”

Brendan’s footsteps faded and Emmett remained in the pool, floating. Was his brother right? Did Elizabeth love him? If so, then why did she leave?

“Harvard’s called it, you know.”

Kelly’s voice rang out from the other end of the room, where he’d clearly been eavesdropping.

“I wondered when you’d show yourself,” Emmett said. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

“Did you leave it alone that time I was knifed by the Dead Rabbits? Did you leave it alone when Rebecca died, and I nearly drown in a bottle? Or when I started fightin’ again, takin’ risks in back alleys?”

Emmett said nothing. He’d done those things for the same reason his friend had followed Emmett down to the pool: because they were family.

“Bish, I know why you keep pushin’ her away. You think you ain’t worthy of her, that you don’t deserve happiness. Do you remember what you said to me when Rebecca died?”

Kelly had nearly been destroyed by his wife’s illness and slow demise. When Rebecca had finally died, Emmett had stayed with Kelly for weeks, afraid to leave his friend’s side for fear of what Kelly might do.

“I never hid my past from Rebecca. She knew where I came from, what I’d done in Five Points. Said she loved me all the more for my past because I overcame it. But when she died . . .” Kelly’s voice trailed off and then he cleared his throat.

“You said it was punishment for your sins,” Emmett said gently. “That it was your fault she became ill and died.”

“And you told me I was wrong. That my time with Rebecca, no matter how short, was my reward for makin’ it out of the slums.”

“What’s your point?”

Kelly came to stand at the pool’s edge and stared down at Emmett. “You hate to admit you’re wrong, always have. But your wife is nobody’s fool. If you think she doesn’t know you, doesn’t know the kind of man you are, you’re wrong. She knows, and she loves you anyway.”

“She doesn’t know everything. Not about Five Points.”

“Wrong. Brendan has been fillin’ her in on a lot of it. She knows more than you think, and she was still willing to put up with you.”

Emmett frowned. Brendan had no right to tell Elizabeth any of it, not without discussing it with Emmett first. How much had his brother told her?

“She left because she believes you never wanted her—not because she doesn’t want you,” Kelly said. “You need to get out of the pool, Emmett. Get dressed and go after your reward before it’s too late.”