So she was still harping on that. Zeke rolled his eyes. “Believe me, there are far more desperate criminals in this city for the police to arrest than a bunch of circus people in a runaway balloon.”
“Then what do you plan on doing with that circus girl?”
“She’s already gone. I sent her off with her husband, booked them into the bridal suite at the Waldorf for a wedding present.”
“I don’t mean her. I mean the other one, the one you had Wellington take upstairs.”
Oh, her. Miss Aurora Rose Kavanaugh. Just thinking of her was enough to make Zeke want to chuckle. He could picture her so clearly, a little slip of a thing, barely up to his shoulder, yet squaring off, her fists upraised, ready to darken his lights, disheveled strands of silky hair tumbling before her flashing eyes.
Zeke suppressed his smile lest Mrs. Van Hallsburg misinterpret it. “Miss Kavanaugh is only waiting here until her assistant comes to take the balloon away.”
“That sounds exactly like the sort of excuse my late brother, Stephen, used to give whenever I caught him with one of his inamoratas.”
Inna— Zeke couldn’t even pronounce the word, but he gathered the gist of it. “Wait a minute. I only just met that girl today. I carried her into the house because she had hurt her ankle. She’s only a kid, for heaven’s sake.”
Even as Zeke made this declaration, he recalled that moment at the foot of the stairs when Miss Kavanaugh’s clinging gown had outlined some surprising and delectable feminine curves, revealing that she was not quite as young as Zeke had first supposed her to be.
Still, for all that, she had looked like a drowned kitten, certainly nothing to provoke such an outburst from Mrs. Van Hallsburg. An outburst of jealousy? Given the woman’s dispassionate nature, the thought was ludicrous, but Zeke hardly knew what else to call it.
“Miss Kavanaugh nearly killed herself in a balloon today,” Zeke continued. “I was only trying to be kind to her.”
But he saw that all his assurances were useless. Mrs. Van Hallsburg clearly didn’t believe him.
“In any case, I don’t mean to be rude, but I hardly see where my intentions toward Miss Kavanaugh are your affair. I am not your brother.”
“No, but I have invested a great deal of time in you, smoothing out your rough edges, attempting to bring you on in society.”
“Well, some investments just don’t pay off.”
“I am not accustomed to taking losses.”
Zeke’s jaw tightened, and he wished he could be rid of Cynthia Van Hallsburg as easily as he had disposed of William Duffy. Something had been creeping into Mrs. Van Hallsburg’s manner of late that disconcerted him. It was as though the woman believed she owned him. He did owe the lady a lot of favors, so he strove to check his temper.
He rubbed one hand wearily along the back of his neck. “It’s been a long day and this is turning into a damned silly argument. Why don’t you run along and have yourself a cup of tea with the others before you get me angry as well. It doesn’t bother me tohave a shouting match in the middle of the hall, but I don’t think you would like it.”
He forced a smile to his lips. He really didn’t want to quarrel with her, but he had a notoriously short fuse. He terminated the discussion by stalking past her into his study.
The rain was still lashing against the latticed windows, but a cozy fire crackled upon the hearth. Above the mantel hung a serene landscape by Constable, The walls were lined with shelves of books, the spines pristine. In the center of the study stood a large oak desk and a wing-back chair of green leather. The entire room was a subtle testimony to wealth, that Zeke could well afford to hire someone to decorate for him and had done so. But it revealed nothing of his own personality.
As he stalked over to a small cabinet to pour himself a much-needed whiskey, he realized that Mrs. Van Hallsburg had followed him. She closed the door behind her.
“I don’t want to quarrel either, John,” she said. “But forgive me if I am a little confused. You seemed almost delighted that that circus girl crashed down here, ruining what should have been the best garden party of this season. Even the Whitneys came. That was quite a coup for you.
“I thought you wanted to be something more than a vulgar adventurer who happened to strike it rich. You are so close to being accepted by the best families in New York. But I get the feeling you would throw it all away just on a whim. Sometimes I don’t understand you at all”
Zeke said nothing. Thrusting his hands deep in his trouser pockets, he stalked over to stare out the window at the rain washing the glass. He didn’t even understand himself. It was his ambition to be accepted by New York’s sacred Four Hundred, the top of the social register. But he also had an unholy urge to thumb his nose at Mrs. Van Hallsburg and all her set, just the way he used to when he was a kid hawking papers on the streetcorners, making faces at all the fancy Dans rolling by in their carriages.
On days when he thought about it too much, he didn’t even know why he had built this costly barracks of a house on Fifth Avenue, why he was trying so hard to be agreeable to people he held mostly in contempt. Perhaps because it was a challenge to see if he could get those blasted snobs eating out of his hand, a hand most of them at one time wouldn’t have let shine their boots. Perhaps because having obtained all the money he could desire, he needed another goal. He had to keep running toward something. If he stopped for too long, he was afraid that he would notice the great emptiness that was his life.
What was it that Sadie Marceone had always told him?
Those dreams of yours, Johnnie, maybe they’re gonna take you far. Maybe they’re gonna make you rich, but they’re never gonna make you happy.
At the recollection of those words, a clear image rose in Zeke’s mind of the careworn face of the woman who had raised him. Abandoned at an orphanage when only hours old, he had never known either of his real parents, so whenever he thought the word ‘mother,’ he thought of Sadie. He was unaware that his expression had softened, having forgotten Mrs. Van Hallsburg’s presence until she said, “That’s a nice smile.”
Zeke was quick to wipe it from his face.
She rustled over and rested her hands lightly on his chest. “You can be so charming when you want to be. Why don’t you ever smile at me that way, John?”
