Magnate by Joanna Shupe (6)

Chapter Six

Elizabeth squeaked, jumped back, and Emmett turned in time to see Will Sloane’s fist—just before it collided with his left eye. His head snapped back with the force of the blow, rocking the chair. Elizabeth shouted and grabbed her brother’s arm, while Emmett shot to his feet. His vision blurred, but it wasn’t the first time he’d caught an unexpected punch. Far from it—and no matter what, he always picked himself up to fight back.

Sloane’s face was purple with rage, his chest heaving, but Emmett paid him no mind. Elizabeth had gone the color of snow in an effort to restrain her brother. “Step back, Elizabeth, before you get hurt,” he ordered.

“And you dare to call her by her Christian name!” Sloane lunged again and caught Emmett off balance, the two of them crashing onto the dining table. Food, china, and glass rained onto the floor. Sloane got in another punch, this time at Emmett’s midsection, before Emmett landed a few choice blows of his own. Sloane attempted to wrap his fingers around Emmett’s throat, so Emmett grabbed the man’s arms as they wrestled on the floor, battling to gain the upper hand.

And then the fight ended. Strong arms lifted Sloane straight off the floor.

“About time,” Emmett grumbled as he staggered to his feet. Kelly just grinned, his beefy arms easily restraining a struggling Will Sloane.

The stark lines of Sloane’s face were etched in fury as he tried to break Kelly’s hold. “Release me, you imbecile.”

Louis Sherry flew through the curtain, his eyes huge as he absorbed the destruction. “Gentlemen, is there a problem with your meal?”

The awareness of an audience seemed to pull Sloane together. He stilled, nostrils flared, but otherwise appeared calm. Kelly glanced at Emmett, a question in his eyes.

Emmett jerked his chin, and Sloane was released.

“You idiots!” Elizabeth marched forward. “You both could have been hurt.” Even angry, she was perfection. The woman exuded sophistication and polish, so beautiful she put even the most ostentatious decoration to shame. And here Emmett had been brawling on the floor, like the hoodlum he was.

Well, better she see his true self now. That would quell any tenderness arising from their earlier kiss.

“Lizzie, go wait in my carriage.” Sloane’s hard gaze drilled into Emmett as he spoke. “I want to have a word with Cavanaugh.”

“No,” she shot back. “Will, you cannot send me out of the room like some recalcitrant child. I won’t have you hurting each other—”

“I want to talk to him.”

She stuck out her chin. “So talk. I’m not leaving.”

“Lizzie, get in the goddamned carriage! ” Sloane roared.

Before Emmett knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed Sloane by the throat. “Watch your mouth,” he snarled in his most menacing voice, his face inches from Sloane’s.

Lips pressed in a tight line, Sloane didn’t back down. They squared off, neither budging, for a long moment. Emmett had to give him credit; Sloane was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Not that the prick would have lasted a minute in Emmett’s old neighborhood.

Finally, the other man sneered and shoved Emmett’s hand to the side. He turned to his sister and draped an arm around her shoulders, leading her to the exit. Sloane was saying something to her, but the hushed tone was too soft for Emmett to overhear.

Emmett promised to pay for the damage and waved Louis Sherry away. Now that Sloane’s initial fury had been spent, Emmett had a good idea of what was coming next—and they did not require an audience for this particular conversation.

“Want me to stay, Bish?” Kelly asked him quietly. “Make sure he don’t give you another sidewinder?”

Emmett shook out his throbbing hand. He’d gotten in a few good shots, considering he’d been taken off guard. Hopefully Sloane’s jaw would hurt like ever-living fuck tomorrow. “No, that’s not necessary. Just wait in the hall.”

Elizabeth was now agitated, whispering rapidly to her brother, with Sloane shaking his head in disagreement. The woman had fire in her. She might have the face of an angel, but her spine was pure steel. Emmett liked that about her. A lot.

He’d glimpsed that heat earlier when he’d kissed her. It had nearly blown his goddamned head off. How had a Knickerbocker learned to kiss like a chorus girl?

The exchange hadn’t been what he’d expected, not in the least. He’d been prepared to go slow, thaw her out. Break down all the elaborate barriers protecting her from men like him. But there hadn’t been ice to crack or high walls to scale. Instead, she’d burned hot and bright, a live electric charge in his arms. A jolt of current that reached the long-dead places inside him.

Hard to say whether he wanted to run toward that feeling or far, far away.

Kelly elbowed him in the ribs. “You know what he’s gonna say, right? You’re not gonna have a choice this time.”

“There’s always a choice,” Emmett muttered, gingerly touching the tender skin around his left eye. He’d have a hell of a shiner tomorrow. “Go away, Kelly.”

Chuckling, Kelly disappeared through the curtain. Elizabeth and her brother seemed to come to some sort of agreement, because she was nodding. Sloane took a step back, and Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said from across the room.

“My pleasure, Miss Sloane.”

With one last glance at her brother, she swept out of the room in a rustle of silk. That left just Emmett and Sloane for a conversation neither wanted to have.

Emmett located a chair in the debris of the room. He withdrew a cigar from his inside pocket and had just snipped the end when Sloane righted a second chair. Apparently, Mr. Washington Square was prepared to be civilized.

“Do you have another?” Sloane asked, dropping heavily into the seat.

Clamping the unlit cigar between his teeth, Emmett fished a second out of his pocket, along with his cutter. Sloane thanked him and took the items. Emmett found a candle on a sideboard, lit his own cigar, and held the flame out to Sloane.

Once Sloane’s cigar was burning, the two of them leaned back and puffed. The silence stretched as the room filled with pungent smoke. Emmett could well understand Sloane’s fury, but he’d be damned if he’d apologize for what had happened in this room tonight.

“You’re going to have to marry her,” Sloane finally said.

“Not a chance in hell—and don’t pretend you think it’s a fine idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea, but I have no choice. She will be ruined by morning. Someone sent me a note, telling me you both were here. It’s not as if it’s a secret.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

“I’m afraid it is. No decent man will have her, and she’ll be steeped in scandal the rest of her life. I won’t have it, Cavanaugh. You will do right by her.”

Emmett didn’t like the guilt that twisted and tightened in his belly. “Or?”

“Or I withdraw from our pact. I’ll join Carnegie and Morgan. Spend the rest of my life bringing you low. Are you ready to lose everything? Because I swear that’s what it’ll come to. You, your brother, your two sisters . . . Nothing will be left when I’m through.”

“You think you could do that?” Emmett scoffed.

“If it comes to that, yes, I do. I’ll start by forcing Cabot and Harper to choose sides. They won’t stand by you, not after they learn you brought Lizzie to a private dining room to ruin her.”

Emmett expected no loyalty from anyone—one of the lasting effects of his upbringing—but he wasn’t worried about Sloane. Or Cabot and Harper, for that matter. They could try but they’d never ruin him.

And little good it would do now to share how the private dining room had come to pass.

“Your sisters are what age, now?” Sloane casually smoothed his dark trousers. Emmett said nothing, just clenched his jaw, while Sloane continued. “The oldest is thirteen, I believe. Not long before you’ll be suffering through dress fittings in Paris for their debuts. How do you think society will receive them if you decide to walk away from Lizzie tonight?”

Impotent fury whipped through Emmett, settling at the base of his neck. Sloane had latched onto the one area where Emmett had no leverage. The one deal he couldn’t buy his way into, the one arm he couldn’t twist. And how could he possibly explain to Claire and Katie that their futures had been destroyed by his stupidity? He’d been backed into a fucking corner, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“In case you’re unclear on the answer, allow me to assure you that I will personally call on every house of consequence between Eightieth Street and Battery Park to ensure the Cavanaugh girls are never accepted. Anywhere.”

“This feels a lot like blackmail.”

“That’s because it is blackmail.” Sloane let that statement linger. “And your reticence makes it seem as if my sister is unacceptable or repugnant,” he said, his voice laced with anger. “We both know that’s not the case, nor is it how you feel. I saw you two together, remember. You’d be damned lucky to have her.”

Lucky was not the word bouncing around in Emmett’s head right now—and he wasn’t backed into a corner just yet. “If I do consider marriage, what are you offering in terms of a dowry?”

He could almost hear Sloane grinding his teeth together. “I’m not giving you a goddamned dime.”

“I want Northeast stock.” Sloane opened his mouth to argue, and Emmett added, “Twenty-five thousand shares.”

Sloane threw his head back and laughed. “You have unbelievable nerve. No way in hell I’d give you that. Only board members have that much.”

Emmett blew out a long, thin cloud of white smoke. “If you don’t agree to the stock, I won’t tell you where to find Cabot tonight. Which means you’ll never get news of the engagement in the morning paper. Word of this dinner will be up and down Fifth Avenue before noon.”

Sloane let out a creative curse that surprised even Emmett. “Ten thousand shares,” the other man ground out. “Now are we done, you greedy bastard?”

“Fifteen thousand and we’re done—not that Elizabeth will ever agree.”

Sloane puffed on his cigar. “Wrong. She has no choice in the matter. Not after tonight.”

* * *

Lizzie huddled in Will’s carriage, humiliation burning her alive.

Her brother had just witnessed her kissing Emmett. Passionately kissing, in fact. She’d practically been draped in the man’s lap when Will burst into the room. Positively mortifying.

And the two men had fought, nearly destroyed the room. Had she ever seen Will so livid?

She hated disappointing her brother, the person who’d always protected and cared for her. Had cheered her up as a child. Took her to Newport for her birthday each year. And tonight had witnessed her acting shamefully with Emmett Cavanaugh.

Her lips swollen, she could almost feel Emmett’s mouth still on hers. The kiss had been intense. Mind-numbing. The steel magnate might appear cold and remote, a man made of stone, but that façade had cracked during those few moments. His breath had been hot, his touch branding her through layers of clothing, while his warm and seductive tongue slid into her mouth. She’d fallen under his spell completely—at which point her brother had stormed in.

How could she have been so stupid? Bad enough she’d dined with Emmett in a private room. Kissing him was a hundred times worse. And no chance it could be kept secret, not with a brawl erupting. She should have walked out the second she realized they would not be dining on the main floor.

She glanced at the front of Sherry’s, through the large windows to where tables of gaily dressed patrons enjoyed their evening. Lizzie recognized a few of them, and wondered if news had already spread about her and Emmett.

Let me talk to him, Lizzie, Will had said as he ushered her out of the private dining room. Trust me to fix this.

What had he meant, “fix” it? What were the two men discussing up there?

A group of people spilled out of the entrance and onto the walk. Then Will emerged directly behind them, his face grim as he dodged the revelers and hurried toward the waiting carriage.

He hauled himself up and slammed the door, and the carriage set off toward Fifth Avenue.

Lizzie didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something. “I’m sorry, Will.”

“I should be apologizing to you. If I’d been around more . . .” He shook his head. “I should have insisted you marry ages ago. Then this never would have happened.”

“You act as if people care what I do. He and I have dined together before, and it didn’t even make the papers.”

“Because I called in favors to kill the story,” Will said tersely. “That’s why it was never printed, Lizzie.”

She blinked. “I . . . I had no idea.”

“I know. That’s the way I wanted it. I’ve tried to protect you to the best of my ability, but I cannot do it this time. Someone sent me a note tonight, telling me you both were here. Word will get out about tonight’s dinner, no matter what I do. There’s only one way to stop this scandal.”

A cold knot of dread settled in her stomach. Surely he didn’t mean . . . that. She tried to joke in order to lighten the tension, hoping she was wrong. “You’re going to have Cavanaugh killed?”

Her brother’s mouth flattened. “If I could, believe me, I would.”

“So that means . . .”

Will said nothing, letting the silence provide his answer. A ball of fear gathered steam inside her, the terror growing to engulf her like a giant cloud. “You wouldn’t.”

“There is no choice. You will be ruined, Lizzie. Ruined. It’ll be worse than being a divorcée, and you know how those women are treated. Do you want to leave New York and live abroad, in shame, for the rest of your life, like that Hayes girl a few years ago?”

Agatha Hayes had been an acquaintance of Lizzie’s, an unmarried debutante who’d been rumored to be carrying on an affair with her coachman. Society had turned on Agatha quickly, and her parents had no choice but to squire her off to Rome. Lizzie didn’t want to move to Rome . . . but she didn’t want to marry Emmett Cavanaugh either.

“Living abroad wouldn’t be so terrible,” she hedged.

Will let out a disbelieving sound. “If that is the way you feel, then why did you refuse that viscount sniffing around for a bride last year?” She didn’t answer, and he continued, “Let me ask you, do you make a habit of going to dinner with single men, unaccompanied, and kissing them?”

“No!” Her spine straightened. “Absolutely not!”

“So I can only assume that you”—he grimaced—“feel something for Emmett Cavanaugh. Most marriages of our station are started with much less. Hell, you might even end up being the one woman who can break through to find out if the man has any feelings.”

“This is madness.” A hysterical giggle burned in her throat, and she rubbed her forehead with gloved fingers. This could not be happening.

“This is reality,” Will snapped. “Our world has very strict rules, and you cannot thumb your nose at them. You’ve seen such a small part of life outside ours, Lizzie, but it can be terribly harsh, especially for women. I will not have you struggle or suffer. You’ll marry Cavanaugh, and that will be the end of it.”

The word “marry” echoed ominously in the enclosed space of the carriage. She did not want to marry Emmett Cavanaugh. She hardly knew him for one thing. He could be a philanderer. Abusive. An opium addict. Or any other manner of horrible and cruel traits undesirable in a husband.

Also, she had sworn to marry only for love. To have a man so besotted with her that he never strayed, never even glanced at another woman. Like the stories of her mother and father, the ones Will used to tell her late at night when she was too scared to sleep.

And though he caused her knees to go weak, a man like Emmett Cavanaugh would only bring heartache.

“What if I say no?”

Will heaved out a sigh. “Then we suffer the consequences. But Cavanaugh wants to marry you, Lizzie. Said so himself. Give him a chance to convince you.”

“Mr. Cavanaugh wants to marry me?” She couldn’t believe it. He did not seem the marrying sort.

“Yes. Asked for your hand and everything. He’s not my first choice—far from it—but I believe he’ll make you happy. I’ve already agreed. It’s done.”

“Will! How could you agree without even talking to me first?”

“Because I am your guardian and, like it or not, I have the right to make these decisions for you.”

“But . . .”

She couldn’t even finish it. Having the choice taken away, not being able to decide her own fate, angered Lizzie more than anything else.

No, that wasn’t fair. She’d never expected things to go this far. Hadn’t thought anyone would discover them. She certainly had never considered a marriage would result. All she’d wanted was to open her own investment firm, she thought, rubbing her throbbing temples.

“Lizzie, your reputation is all you have. If you lose it, no one will even look you in the eye, let alone speak to you. You’ll cease to exist to those in our circle.”

Sweet mercy, her brother was right. Any chance of luring the wealthy society matrons and respectable widows to invest with her would disappear if word of tonight’s episode got out. A lump settled in her throat. Why had she been so stupid?

Perhaps she could talk Emmett out of an actual wedding. They could enjoy a long engagement and then call off the wedding before the ceremony. That made more sense. All they had to do was wait for the scandal to settle. Then they could cancel the wedding and go their separate ways, reputations intact.

A fine plan, she reasoned.

“I can see your thoughts turning,” Will said, her brother’s shrewd gaze too knowing. “Give over, Lizzie. It’s done.”

Wrong. This was far from done. But she bit her lip and kept her ideas to herself. Just like always.

* * *

The announcement appeared in the paper the following morning.

Dressed in a pale china-blue morning gown, Lizzie stirred her morning coffee, her mind swirling faster than the cream in her Limoges porcelain cup. This was her brother’s doing, she knew it. She hadn’t a clue how Will had managed the feat, but news of the impending nuptials graced the front page, shouting her misery to the world in stark black-and-white.

Lizzie rubbed her brow. Hadn’t the idea only been discussed last night? She had hoped to find a way out of the situation before word became public. Today’s paper certainly changed that. Not only would stopping the marriage prove more difficult, the news that she’d broken things off with Henry painted her like some man-hopping hussy.

And “thrilled at the match”? Will had hardly spoken to her on the ride home from Sherry’s, depositing her at the front door before disappearing into his home office, clearly eager to begin ruining her life.

Just then, her brother walked into the breakfast room. Tall and confident, his blond hair was perfectly oiled, his dress immaculate. How could he appear so put together on a disastrous morning such as this?

“Good morning,” he said casually.

Lizzie tapped anxious fingers on the table while he pulled out a chair and sat down. A servant rushed over with coffee.

“Excellent. You’ve seen it.” He gestured to the paper. “I suppose you’ll be besieged by callers today.”

Oh, dear heavens, she’d forgotten. Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose. No doubt the ladies of New York society were ordering the wheels of their coupés greased at this very moment. She would have to face them, if not today then soon.

“Why did this need to appear in the morning’s paper? Can’t I even have a moment to let the idea settle?”

Will turned to the footman by the wall. “Paul, give us a moment.” The servant withdrew, shutting the door behind him, and her brother leaned forward, his expression clouding. “This had to appear this morning because you chose to meet Cavanaugh in a private dining room, Lizzie. Someone knew about your dinner, someone who sent me there to find you. This is me, protecting you.” He stabbed a finger at the newspaper. “I had to rouse the publisher out of a . . . quite unsavory place last night just to have the page reset.”

Bitter, ugly feelings expanded in her chest until she could hardly contain them. It was all happening too fast. No one was listening to her, or taking into account what she wanted. This was not how she had imagined her engagement. “Maybe I am tired of your protecting me!” she snapped. “You never include me in decisions, at least not anymore. You do whatever you please, telling no one, and damn the consequences!”

His eyes rounded. “Did you just swear in our breakfast room?”

“Yes, I did. If ever a day required swearing, this is it. Maybe I’ll never stop! Damn, damn, damn.”

A muscle jumped in Will’s jaw. “I won’t apologize for this. Not for any of it. I’ve done my best, but you’ve brought all this on yourself. You’re Cavanaugh’s problem now.” Will rose, gulped his coffee, and set his cup in the saucer with a snap. “And I wish him luck.”

Lizzie watched Will go, resisting the urge to call after him. She hated fighting with her brother, but she refused to roll over and allow others to decide her fate. There has to be a way out of this, she thought with another calculating glance at the paper.

Not long after, a noise in the hall caught her attention. She had just finished her breakfast when Edith Rutlidge strode into the breakfast room with Frederic, their butler, hot on her heels.

“I cannot believe it!” Edith declared at the same time that Frederic apologized for not announcing their guest.

“It’s fine, Frederic. Edith, please sit.”

Edith sat while the footman arranged a clean place setting in front of her. When finished, he wisely quit the room.

Edith’s eyes were wild and disbelieving. “You’re getting married? To Emmett Cavanaugh? I . . . I’m speechless, Lizzie.”

Well, not exactly speechless, but Lizzie refrained from pointing that out. “We are engaged, yes,” she hedged.

Edith’s gaze dipped to Lizzie’s finger. “Then where is your ring?”

Oh. Lizzie hadn’t thought of that. She twisted her hands together, hiding her bare fingers. “It was only just decided last evening, which is why I didn’t tell you.”

“The other night, that’s who dropped you and Henry off at the house. It was Cavanaugh, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Edith slumped in the chair, her face as unhappy as Lizzie had ever seen. Guilt wormed its way under Lizzie’s ribs to clench her heart. She didn’t like hurting Edith’s feelings, but she was not ready to discuss the true nature of her engagement to Emmett Cavanaugh.

“I didn’t even know you two were acquainted. He’s so . . .”

Large? Handsome? Intense? There were a hundred ways to finish that sentence, but they were not here to discuss Cavanaugh’s strengths and weaknesses. “Edith, I realize this is a shock. The whole business caught me by surprise as well.”

Edith studied Lizzie’s face. “Caught you by surprise, in a good way? What I mean is, did he sweep you off your feet?”

Lizzie swallowed the rest of her coffee, which had turned cold. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You’re not telling me much. I’m supposed to be your closest friend. Henry is hurt by this,” she said, gesturing to the paper. “You should have seen his face this morning. And you cannot even tell me how Cavanaugh convinced you to marry him?”

“You are my closest friend, and I’m sorry for not being forthcoming. I’m still . . . reeling.”

“Do you love him?”

That question nearly made Lizzie laugh, but she restrained herself. Love him? She barely knew him. “Hard to say. It’s all been so sudden.”

Edith huffed. “You have maintained for years you’ll never marry except for love. And now you’re saying you are not in love with your betrothed? This makes no sense.”

“You need to take my word for it,” Lizzie said sharply. She did not want to argue with her friend, but Edith needed to stop peppering her with so many questions.

Frederic appeared, a silver salver in hand. One lone card rested on the surface, and Lizzie picked it up. When she saw the name, her stomach fell. Why was he paying her a call?

“What? Who is it?” Edith reached over to pluck the card out of Lizzie’s fingers before Lizzie could stop her. “Oh, my heavens.”

Lizzie wanted to run upstairs and draw the covers over her head. Instead, she told Frederic, “Show him to the front receiving room, please.”

“I’m coming with you,” Edith declared. “I want to meet him.”

“No, absolutely not,” Lizzie said emphatically.

A determined set to her chin, Edith shot out of her chair and rushed from the breakfast room. Realizing what was happening, Lizzie hurried toward the front of the house. Her friend was faster, however, and by the time Lizzie arrived, Edith was boldly introducing herself to Emmett.

In a wool morning suit of light gray and white stripes, he appeared tall, sturdy, and impossibly handsome. If he was bothered by the news in today’s paper, Lizzie couldn’t tell from the way he politely greeted Edith.

“Good morning,” Lizzie said.

Emmett glanced up, his dark eyes slowly traveling the length of her before settling on her face. That intense scrutiny made her shiver, despite her best intentions to remain unaffected by him.

“Good morning, Miss Sloane. My apologies for the early call. I hadn’t expected you to be entertaining.”

“That’s my fault,” Edith said. “I couldn’t help but come downtown as soon as I read the paper. It came as quite a surprise.”

To everyone, Lizzie longed to add. She wanted to rip open the door and scream into Washington Square Park, I have no intention of marrying him.

Emmett gave Edith an inscrutable look. “To me as well, Miss Rutlidge,” he admitted. “But a pleasant surprise, indeed.”

Edith’s expression softened, as if the statement had been a declaration of undying love. “Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. When I saw the announcement this morning, I feared the worst.”

“And what would the worst be?” he asked her.

“Lizzie has sworn to marry only for love—”

“Edith! That’s enough. Mr. Cavanaugh is very busy, and we wouldn’t want to delay him.”

Emmett cleared his throat. “I won’t stay long. I wondered if we might have a word in private, Miss Sloane?”

“Oh,” Edith said, glancing between Lizzie and Emmett. Calls were required to be chaperoned, though Lizzie certainly wouldn’t have worried over propriety if she had been alone. Edith’s presence complicated matters.

“Excuse us, Edith. I’ll speak with Mr. Cavanaugh in the hall.” She turned and led the way out of the room.