Tender Is the Storm (21 page)

The conclusion he came to damned her entirely. The spoiled rich girl angry with her father, seeing Lucas’s advertisement as a way to disappear for a while, thinking nothing of the harm she was doing. She had no way of knowing he wasn’t serious about wanting a wife. Why, he might have been some lonely fool who’d have fallen head-overheels in love with her and been heartbroken when
she took off. Had she considered that? Did she care? Of course not. Her type never thought of anyone but herself.

No wonder he hadn’t been able to find her. No doubt those incompetent bankers he had left the matter to didn’t have the sense to check out all Hammond households. Either that, or Marcus Hammond had paid them off.

Was that why Hammond was looking for him? Did he know about the money Lucas had deposited for Sharisse? A man of his stature might take that as an insult. Then again, Sharisse might have confessed his treatment of her to save her own skin. Hammond might be an enraged father wanting retribution. No doubt she had painted an innocent picture of her own part in everything.

Lucas sat back, his mouth turning up into a caricature of a smile. Set the hounds on him, would she? He shook his head and reached for the bottle. She ought to’ve left well enough alone.

Sharisse returned her friend Carol Peterson to Carol’s home on Lafayette Place, one of the older residential areas still occupied by the upper crust and still holding out against the advance of commerce. Sheila was supposed to have joined them, too, but she hadn’t, so Sharisse and Carol had spent an enjoyable afternoon walking between Union and Madison Squares, Sharisse’s driver following slowly behind. Of course the girls couldn’t resist stopping at the great retail houses of the Tiffanys, the Arnolds, and the Lords and Taylors.

Sharisse was tired, but not anxious to get right home, even though she did have an engagement that evening. She told her driver to take his time, wanting to enjoy the sights of the city she loved so much.

They drove past the two-hundred-foot-long multicolumned Custom House, up Broadway and along Park Row, and by Printing House Square, which took its name from the large number of
newspaper offices in the vicinity. Between lamp posts were the tall utility poles with as many as nine crossarms. Organ grinders were playing on the streets, and candy men were pushing their carts next to vendors of ice cream and ices. A penny would buy a small cup filled with one or another delicious concoction.

The streets never quieted. Horsecar railways operated on many streets, as did the elevated railroad, but the older horse-drawn omnibus was still the only means of transportation besides private carriages on Broadway south of 14th Street. They were brightly colored vehicles with large lettering above and below a long row of windows. The driver, up front, was exposed to the elements and kept an umbrella ready for an unexpected shower. Riding on them was an adventure for children. Sharisse hadn’t been on one for years.

Park Place revealed many shops advertising rattan furniture, fireworks, glass shades, polishers, and printers. Past City Hall many of the older structures had been replaced by buildings with stone and cast-iron fronts. There could be found manufacturers of safes, firearms, and scales. Curb trees diminished there and then vanished altogether. Ready-made clothing stores offered hats, gloves, flowers and feathers, corsets, shoes, and furs.

Up near Bleecker Street, Sharisse smiled as they passed the Grand Central Hotel, thinking of her father getting red in the face every time the “eye sore” was mentioned. It really was monstrous, towering above the other buildings around it, yet
stylish with its marble front and mansard roof. In 1875 when it opened, an incredible eight-stories high and having six hundred thirty rooms, it was reported to be the largest hotel in the world.

When she arrived home and took off her hat and gloves, her father appeared at his study door.

“I would like a word with you, Rissy.”

“Can’t it wait, Father? Robert is taking me to a play tonight, and I don’t have much time to get ready.”

“Then you should have finished your shopping sooner,” he said disagreeably. “And it’s about your recent purchases that I want to talk to you.”

Sharisse sighed and followed him into his sanctum. “You’re not going to chastise me for spending too much, are you? It was only a few dresses, Father.”

“A few? I believe a dozen boxes were delivered here last week, and more arrive every day.”

“Well, the full bustle is becoming popular again. You can’t expect me to make do with last year’s fashions when they have changed so drastically. And besides, you’ve never begrudged me a good wardrobe.”

“That is not why I called you in here, Rissy. I don’t care if you purchase a hundred new gowns. I just want to know who’s paying for them.”

“Paying? Why, you are, of course.”

“Am I?”

Sharisse frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I happened to be on Broadway this morning, in the midst of that infernal ‘Ladies’ Mile,’ as you girls call it. I thought I would stop in at your
dressmaker, as long as I was there, to settle your account. But the lady tells me your bill has been taken care of.”

“But how—?”

“That’s what I would like to know. She couldn’t tell me anything except that a boy had come around with the money and said it was to take care of your bill. She assumed the money came from me, including a large tip.”

“It must be Joel seeing to Steph’s gowns.”

Her father shook his head. “Your name was specified by the errand boy.”

“Well, it must be a mistake then.”

He shook his head again. “I went to three other shops where I know you trade.”

Sharisse knew by his look. “They were paid up, too?”

“Yes.”

She sat down next to his desk, thoroughly confused. “I don’t know what to tell you. You know I never carry cash when I go shopping. Everything is charged to you. But if neither of us paid those bills, then who did?”

“Robert?”

“Certainly not! I barely know him. I wouldn’t be seeing him at all if Joel and Steph hadn’t kept pestering me about it.”

“I know he’s a close friend of Joel’s, so I thought…You haven’t been seeing anyone else, have you?”

“Father, really! Are you suggesting I’m some man’s mistress?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No, of
course not. But you apparently have a generous admirer, although his approach is certainly unusual. Who could it be?”

“I’ve met several gentlemen recently who are new in town, but none impressed me as showy or extravagant. No, I can’t imagine anyone I know doing this. It’s intriguing, though. Those bills you mentioned weren’t for trifling amounts.”

“Your bills never are, my dear.”

She ignored that. “It is an unusual way to bestow a gift. Flowers or trinkets could be returned, but I’m not going to give back my new clothes after all the time I spent in fittings. I hope you will have cash available so that I can give the money back when I find out who this man is.”

“Why don’t you let me handle that. I don’t like the idea of a stranger paying for your necessities. Buying you little gifts to win your favor is one thing, but paying your bills is downright audacious. It must be a foreigner. They have funny ways of doing things.”

Sharisse grinned at his conclusion. “Well, whoever it is, I’m sure he will reveal himself soon enough. Now I really must go and get ready, Father. Will you be going to your club tonight? I hate to think of you being at home alone.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I think I’ll wait up for you, just in case you learn anything this evening.”

The first act of the play was already in progress when she and Robert arrived at the Academy of Music on the east side of Union Square. Its plain exterior, next to the more impressive Tammany Hall, failed to prepare one for its lovely interior. Balls were held there, as well as operas and amateur theatrical performances like the play that night.

Carriages lined the street, but not everyone was there for the play. Across the street couples strolled in the square or took advantage of the benches enclosed by grass and foliage. Mornings and afternoons would find the benches and walks crowded with white-capped nurse maids and children, idlers from the tramp to the overcome tippler, and pedestrians seeking the quiet shelter of trees in that “bit of country in town.” At night, lamps hung from the trees gave one a cozy, sequestered feeling. At night it was a place for lovers.

Sharisse didn’t know why she was gazing at it
with such longing as she entered the Academy on Robert’s arm. Robert certainly didn’t tempt her. Oh, he was attractive enough with his light brown hair and blue eyes, and attentive enough. And he made it clear that he wanted to be far more than just an escort. But if she were going to take a lover, she would want someone taller, darker, a little wider in the shoulders, more like…

She cleared her mind of annoying thoughts and tried to concentrate on the performance. It worked for a while, but then her ring caught her eye, the large peridot surrounded by brilliants that matched her necklace and earrings. She had done it again, automatically chosen those jewels to wear tonight, just as she had chosen them for every formal occasion she had attended since her return to New York. Pearls would have looked better with the new silver-gray gown, or even her emeralds. But the large oval peridots were exactly the right color, with just enough yellow to make it seem that a fire was banked in their depths—just like his eyes.

Why
couldn’t she forget him? A year had passed, a whole year since she’d seen Lucas Holt, yet his image rose in her mind as clearly as if she’d seen him only yesterday.

“Sharisse! I thought that was you!”

She looked up to see Sheila Harris squeezing through the crowd to get to her. The intermission lights were on, and most of the audience was heading for the lobby. Robert excused himself to do the same, and Sheila sat down in his seat. She looked exceptionally colorful in a dark blue gown with gold brilliants running through the bodice.
Sheila never conformed to fashion modes, but she always looked beautiful no matter what she adorned herself with.

At the moment, her blue eyes were wide with curiosity, and she leaned forward as soon as Robert was well out of hearing. “Whatever are you doing with him?”

“Hello, Sheila,” Sharisse grinned. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Oh, yes, hello,” Sheila said impatiently.

“We missed you today.”

“Today? Oh, no! Was it today I was supposed to meet you and Carol? I forgot. You will forgive me, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Sheila never failed to amuse Sharisse.

“Well? Answer me about Robert.”

Sharisse shrugged. “Robert has been my escort for some time. You know that. You see me with him all the time.”

“I know. I didn’t mean it that way. I only thought…well…why would you be with Robert now that he’s back?”

“He? Make sense, Sheila.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Sharisse.” Sheila narrowed her gaze. “I behaved like a perfect fool when I met him, and it’s all your fault. I was just so surprised that I was speechless—and you know I’ve never been speechless in my entire life.”

“Sheila, if you don’t explain yourself this minute!” Sharisse warned in exasperation.

“It was completely unfair of you to give me so little warning. I begged you for details, and all
you told me was ‘he’s different.’ Now if that isn’t an understatement! ‘Different!’ He’s gorgeous. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Sharisse sat back, shaking her head. It wasn’t possible.

“You say you met…him. When?”

“Last night, at the Stewarts’ soiree. Donald introduced us. You know Donald.”

“Yes, yes, the man you’ve been seeing, I know Donald. Get on with it, Sheila.”

Sheila continued, and Sharisse prayed she wouldn’t ask why she wasn’t in touch with Lucas. “Well, Donald didn’t associate his name with you and only introduced him as Mr. Holt. Of course, how many Holts do we know? I simply had to ask him right out if he was your husband. I didn’t expect him to be, not after your careless description of him. You can imagine how surprised I was when he said yes.”

“What…what else did Lucas say?”

“Well, not much. He’s not much of a talker, is he? I asked him about his ship.” Sharisse looked upset, and Sheila asked anxiously, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“I asked about his ship and if his trip to the Orient was successful, but he was awfully evasive. And of course I asked why you weren’t with him, and he said you weren’t feeling up to it. But you must be better, or you wouldn’t be here tonight with…oh, dear. He asked a lot of questions, mostly about Robert.”

“What? You told him about Robert?”

“
I
didn’t tell him,” Sheila said in a wounded voice. “I assumed you already had, since he knew Robert’s been escorting you recently. He wanted to know what Robert was like, but I couldn’t tell him much since I only returned to the city two months ago, and before I went away you were still upstate with your aunt. But your husband certainly was curious about Robert. I suppose that’s only natural, though, with him being away on business for so long. Such a long separation wasn’t an ideal way to begin a marriage, but it couldn’t be helped, could it?”

“What?” Sharisse could barely think at all.

“Will he be around for a while now before he has to leave on another voyage? I did wonder how you could marry a ship’s captain, even if he did own his own ship, but I can certainly understand why now! He might be away for long periods, but when he’s at home, oh, I do envy you.”

Sharisse heard herself blurting, “I…I don’t know when he is leaving again, Sheila. We…ah, we haven’t got around to discussing that yet.”

“But where is he now?”

“Busy,” Sharisse snapped, then quickly smiled and said casually, “Just because he’s home doesn’t mean I get to monopolize his time. He has a lot of business to take care of. Things that were neglected while he was away.”

“Is that why you’re with Robert?”

“Yes. And now I really must go and see what’s keeping him,” she said firmly.

She rose to leave, but her friend grabbed her arm.

“What about your sister’s party this Saturday? Surely you can get your husband to take you to
that
. After all, who among our friends has met him besides me?”

Oh, no! “I don’t know, Sheila. We’ll just have to wait and see,” Sharisse muttered, desperate to get away.

She found Robert as quickly as she could and asked to be taken home immediately, using the throbbing headache she was fast developing as a legitimate excuse. She hardly said a word to him on the way home and left him with a quick, distracted good-bye. Mrs. Etherton met her in the foyer and took her cloak and gloves, worrying over Sharisse’s pinched expression.

“Where is my father, please?”

The housekeeper sniffed disapprovingly and said stonily, “In the kitchen, miss.”

“Raiding again?” Sharisse grinned.

“I believe so, miss.”

Sharisse was still grinning as she went to find her father. She liked to think of him upsetting the servants by entering their domain. It was so like him. She found him alone in the kitchen, a cold chicken and a loaf of bread before him on the kitchen work table. Well, he wasn’t quite alone. In the corner was Clarissa, the cream-colored female cat it had taken Sharisse weeks to find after she got home. Clarissa was suckling her litter of three. And there was Charley, never far from his little family, curling his way around Marcus’s feet. Sharisse was astonished to hear her father say, “Damned cat. I suppose you want some of this?”

“Why, you old softy!”

Marcus jumped, turning around to glare at her. “I’m too old to be startled like that!”

“I’m sorry.” She sat down near the work table and picked up a piece of chicken.

He eyed her curiously. “You’re back early. Did you find out who your secret admirer is?”

“No. Well…maybe. Oh, I might as well tell you right out and see what
you
can make of it. Sheila was at the Academy, and she told me she met Lucas last night at the Stewarts’.”

“Lucas? You mean…
Lucas?
”

“Yes.”

“Well, well, isn’t this interesting.”

“Alarming is more like it. Couldn’t it be someone else pretending to be Lucas?” Sharisse asked hopefully. But she knew it couldn’t be, not with Sheila’s adoring description.

“What did you tell her?” her father asked.

“I couldn’t very well tell her that I didn’t even know he was here. How would that look? But she did have one thing to say about him,” she added testily. “She thought he was gorgeous.”

“What kind of way is that to describe a man?” Marcus asked.

“Sheila’s way. She found him quite attractive,” she said nastily.

“As I recall, you did, too. All right, let’s assume this man is your husband. He’s here. What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not going to do anything,” she said flatly. “I’m certainly not going to see Lucas.”

“You may have to, my dear. I can’t very well
deny him access to this house if he demands to see you. He is still your husband. He might not have been aware of that fact when he arrived here, but he’s obviously found it out. And he’s also made sure that you are aware of his rights as your husband.”

“What do you mean?”

“He paid for your purchases. I doubt that was simply a matter of owing up to his obligations. I would call it an extravagant message. A message to you.”

“In other words he wants me to know that if he wants to play the role of my husband, he can?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t know, Father. Lucas is more straightforward than that. He would just barge right in here and—”

“Then why hasn’t he?”

“Oh, how should I know what’s on his mind!”

“I’m sure you can guess. He’s going to want to know why you’re still married, Rissy. Are you going to tell him?”

“No,” she replied adamantly, “absolutely not.”

“Then you better think of something pretty soon, because I don’t think it’ll be much longer before you meet Lucas Holt again.”