“I want you to marry me. In a church with a priest, the lace veil, everything.”
For a moment Rory was too stunned to answer. Those times Rory had ever imagined herself receiving a proposal, she had always envisioned some fool dropped to one knee, an embarrassing and daunting prospect. Nothing should have been more embarrassing than hearing an offer of marriage lying naked in Zeke’s arms. Yet somehow it seemed so right.
As though fearing she meant to say no, Zeke rushed on. “You know I am a wealthy man, Rory. You wouldn’t want for anything that money can buy, clothes, jewels?—”
“Oh, Zeke, Zeke,” she said, trying to stem this tide of reckless promises, half-laughing, half-aching for him that he still did not realize he had so much more than money to give.
“And that big house of mine,” he continued, “There is more than enough room for a dozen kids.” His eagerness abated, a shadow of doubt clouding his face. “Though I’m not sure how good a parent I can be. I haven’t had much experience of fathers. I sometimes wondered what my own old man was doing when my mother was out tossing me into that trash can.”
Before Rory could begin to reassure him, Zeke flexed his jaw with determination. “But I know I can do better by my own kids than that. At least, I promise I’d always be there.”
Rory tried not to be swept away by the images his words painted: herself, Zeke, some cozy cottage spilling over with love, laughter and children. She was helped by the realization that Zeke was not talking about some snug little home, but that vast barrack of a mansion on Fifth Avenue.
“What would all your rich friends think of your marrying someone like me?” she asked. “All those people you have been trying so hard to impress. I could never fit in, become a society hostess like your Mrs. Van Hallsburg.”
“To hell with Mrs. Van H. and her set. As if I ever really gave a damn about any of them. All I care about is you.”
Rory could tell he meant it, and that should have been enough for her, especially when she was ready to swear the same. But something held her back. Despite all her dreams, she was essentially more practical than Zeke. She could see problems, rising like ghosts between them, shades of the past not dealt with, both his and hers.
For one thing, there was the Transcontinental Balloon Company. She wasn’t sure how it fit into Zeke’s rosy picture. She had a sinking feeling that it didn’t. He appeared to have forgotten all about it. But she couldn’t.
All the same she hated to mention the balloons and stir up the inevitable discord that would follow, not with Zeke so eager, waiting for her answer.
“You’ll have to give me a little time to think,” she said. “This is all so sudden.”
She had disappointed him, but he appeared to understand. “As long as you remember, I’m not noted for my patience, but I appreciate that it wouldn’t be too prudent to accept a fellow until you know for certain he’s not going to be hung for murder.”
“Zeke, no! That has nothing to do with it.”
“Yes, it does, everything in the world. You have already become involved far more than I wanted. I would as soon keep you clear of the rest of this mess until I prove my innocence.”
“But you said you thought everything would be all right as soon as you got back to Fifth Avenue.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking about that, Rory. I’m not going home, at least not until I pay a call on Mr. Charles Decker.”
Zeke’s grim smile alarmed Rory. She knew full well how volatile his temper could be. She feared to see him cleared of one murder count only to end up arrested on another.
“Then I’m going with you,” she insisted.
“No, you’re not. That meeting will hardly be any place for you. I’m not planning to take tea with the man.”
“I know exactly what you have in mind, and you’re only going to get yourself into more trouble.”
“You misunderstand me entirely, my dear. I intend to be quite civilized, just a little gentle persuasion until Decker confesses what he had done to Addison.”
“It will never work, Zeke. If Decker is the coward you say, he’ll shriek for help at the sight of you. With a houseful of servants at his command, you’ll be overpowered before you get near him.”
“Then what do you suggest I do? I don’t have any way to prove Decker is behind all this, just a gut feeling. That doesn’t hold too well in a court of law.”
“Then we must gather some evidence that will.”
“And how do we begin to do that?” Zeke asked. “I’m no copper. Neither are you.”
“I don’t know.” Rory sat up, dragging her hands through her hair in frustration. But the glimmering of an idea came to her. “Zeke, the police aren’t the only ones who do investigating. What about that reporter, the one who wrote the story about you for the World?”
“Duffy?” He’s nothing but an infernal pest.”
“Yes, but we both agreed it was odd that story should have been published so fast. If we could find out where Duffy got his information, we might get a link to Decker that way.”
