“I’d rather talk about you. Why would a woman as, ah, scrupulous as yourself about your employers associate with a dangerous fool like Kane? Why do you stay with him?”
She pressed her delicious full lips together. “I don’t think my reasons are particularly interesting.”
What the devil could t mean? He tried another tack. “Do you enjoy working for him?”
“Why do you ask?”
He decided he’d keep her slightly rattled. “The question was purely of a social nature. Chitchat.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, you excel at polite conversation, don’t you?”
Ah, this was the woman he knew. “No more than you do, Araminta.”
He expected she would apologize again, or perhaps grow offended. Instead she burst into laughter. She laughed so hard she had to pull out her handkerchief to wipe her eyes. After she tucked her handkerchief back in her bag, the amusing and irksome woman looked him up and down with one of her bold examinations, her eyes still bright with laughter. “I really must apologize. I’m sorry. I don’t understand why I’m driven to be rude to you, sir.”
“I am glad it entertains you.”
The smile still wavered on her lips. “Are you?”
Griffin decided it was time for the next move. He was usually a patient man, but he had already grown tired of waiting.
He placed his delicate porcelain cup and saucer in the middle of the polished table next to his chair. He got up and settled close to her so his thigh lightly touched hers. She watched him and appeared wary of him, but not afraid, thank goodness. Not the fierce Araminta.
He had imagined the moment she would give in to him, but he would not rush her. No, he intended this to be more than a single seduction. Though he did not have specific plans for her yet, he wanted her in his bed. Eventually. He reminded himself not to push too far too fast. Self-control and tenacity usually won him anything he desired. And for whatever reason he very much desired this woman, and he had for far too long.
Araminta did not move away from Calverson. She followed the rise and fall of his chest, and the light lemon scent of him teased her. This is what she’d feared when she’d agreed to stay to tea. No—from the moment he’d touched her in Kane’s dark passage.
The hair on the back of her neck rose as she suddenly realized she sat alone in a room with a ruthless, strong man who could easily overpower her and hide any ill deed he chose to perform. But even as that thought occurred to her, she realized she wasn’t afraid of him. She trusted the white devil.
It was her own self that she did not trust.
The way her pulse quickened and her belly filled with strange, heavy pleasure told her she hadn’t lost a jot of longing for him. At that moment, she wished she had never heard of him or heard the voices in the basement. She placed her cup and saucer on the table next to her and lightly clasped her hands in her lap.
He spoke at last, his voice light but filled with meaning. “I believe I have missed you.”
Ah, not a good sign: her insides gave another small but insistent shiver of agreement. Pure
lust
, she reminded herself. And the word lust echoing in her made the queer sensation that much stronger. Bad to even acknowledge how much she wanted the man.
He reached over and picked up one of her hands. As he touched her, a strange heat of longing blazed through her—so intense it threatened to cook her good sense.
“Your skin is so lovely,” he said in a husky voice. She pursed her lips, ready to scold him for mocking her.
But he shifted closer. She breathed in more of his scent, felt the heat of his body envelop her. The looming presence of the man swamped everm tought.
She desperately tried to push her thoughts back into order, but only grew dizzy. “I came today because I’d supposed you’d give me advice about whom I might turn to. I have no desire to . . .” Her voice trailed off as he peeled away her glove, leaving her hand feeling obscenely naked. “Oh, my,” she said. “I am not sure . . . That is . . . Mr. Calverson, do stop. I wish to talk about what I might do.”
“We will talk,” he assured her as if she were a small child. “Of course.”
“But I am not at all sure this is what I want. Oh—”
He lifted her hand and put his lips to her wrist. His breath warmed her, and his soft mustache grazed her tender skin. She had wondered what that hair above his lip would feel like. Not harsh or bristling as she had suspected. Silken. She cleared her throat. “I’m not certain this is a good idea.”
Her body grew heavy with thick longing even as she reminded herself that Calverson was not comfortable or warm. During the dark years following her mother’s death, she had promised herself that she would not associate with anyone who was not kindhearted or did not easily laugh.
His gaze remained fixed on her face as he pressed a firm kiss into her palm. He overset her senses, made her a less-than-sensible woman. She could not ask him for anything that might give him more power over her.
“Mr. Calverson. Griffin,” she croaked. “I must go.”
He studied her for a moment, gave a single nod and released her hand. “Of course.” He rose to his feet with unconcerned grace. “But you’ll come back.”
He sounded so certain, and appeared so detached compared to her—her legs turned wobbly when she was near him—she wanted to snap, “Never.” Yet she also didn’t want to eventually look like a fool.
She felt him stand close behind her as he helped her with her jacket, but then he stepped back politely as she readjusted her hat. “You were right to come to me about what you witnessed at Kane’s,” he said.
Araminta could breathe again, now that he no longer loomed behind her. “Thank you. I agree. I’ll try to ignore what I overheard, since you believe I ought not contact the police.”
“Has Kane ever threatened you, Araminta?”
“No. In fact when I began work for him I thought him a pleasant gentleman.”
Griffin made a rude noise at the back of his throat.
Araminta had to smile. “Yes, it did not take long for me to understand that under that amiable smile, he’s horrible. Though he’s not the worst employer I’ve had, I do not like the way he—he treats other women.”
He regarded her face thoughtfully. “Ah. And do you inform him of your opinion?”
“Of course not.”
“No ‘of course’ about it, Araminta. Remember to whom you are speaking.”
“Oh.” She hoped he didn’t see her blush. “But those things I said to you . . . You were different.”
“Explain.”
She rubbed her gloved finger hard on a jet bead on her bag and didn’t look at him as she admitted, “I have become rather afraid of Mr. Kane. And I suppose I knew that you would not hurt me.”
“How did you know that?”
“As I told you, your sister had talked about you so often I felt as if I knew you. And I know that you are actually harmless.”
“And you are a fool.”
She considered acting offended. Instead, she waited to hear his meaning, but he said nothing else. When she at last glanced over at him, his face showed no emotion.
For a moment, they lingered near the front door. He watched her, plainly expecting something, so she hesitantly reached out a hand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Calverson.”
He was in front of her, opening the door. “Allow me.”
She hesitated, and then walked toward the back staircase.
He’d followed her and now lightly grasped her forearm. She swallowed hard, ready to fight him off, but he merely said, “We’ll take the elevator.”
“Mr. Calverson, I don’t mind—”
“I will escort you to the lobby, Araminta.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure she liked this plan. She still felt the heat he’d wedged into her with that mouth on her skin....
He must have seen her dismay, for in his usual dry voice he said, “I shan’t make any grabs at you. I am a host escorting his guest to the door. Not a ravening wolf.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that last statement. The elevator arrived, the man pulled open the gates, and Griffin waited for her to step in. As they made their clanking way down, he stood close to her and spoke quietly. “If you require my help, please don’t hesitate to call upon me again. In the meantime, I advise you not to tell anyone what you, ah, might have witnessed, especially no one in Kane’s household.”
At the wide marble columns flanking the entrance of the hotel, he bowed over her hand and bade her a pleasant farewell. She settled into the cab, an unusual luxury, although this one smelled as if it had been shut up tight too long.
For the first time she noticed he had treated her with common civility.
Unlike most men.
As the cab made its slow, halting way uptown, she sat back and argued with herself about Griffin. He wanted her. But why? He could have nearly any woman in New York. Perhaps he wanted to teach her a lesson. Or perhaps he enjoyed the abuse she had heaped on him. She closed her eyes and saw him as he’d looked at her in the shadowy hallway. His face had had the intent, sharp quality of a hunter that night. The expression she thought could be desire. He’d wanted her then, too—and the thought made her stomach flip and settle in a new spot.
She’d do better to avoid the selfish man, of course. But the frightening exhilaration that hunter’s look sent through her . . . Oh, Lord. On the other hand, she did not have to actually fear he would overpower her.
The man might be selfishly indifferent to any needs but his own, but he had listened to her this morning. She had told him no, and he had stopped at once.
He had not treated her like a menial today.
Araminta did not fool herself. No matter how much education or money she acquired, to most of the world she would always be a servant or worse. But for a few minutes she had forgotten her often demeaning place in society.
In the fuggish interior of the cab, she laughed aloud. Griffin Calverson either irked her or seduced her into acting outside of her role. He was not a dull gentleman, at any rate.
CHAPTER 5
Griffin stood on the sidewalk, hands clasped behind his back as he watched Araminta’s cab disappear into the stream of traffic. The annoying and seductive woman still had not gotten around to asking for the favor she’d wanted when she’d first approached him.
If Griffin didn’t hear from her again, he’d find some way of seeking her out. To his own advantage, as well.
He’d seen the desire flare in Araminta’s eyes. Her transparent face showed her reluctant interest—which she displayed when she wasn’t giving him holy hell.
In the meantime, Griffin had another job for his friend Galvin, whose men had infiltrated Kane’s: increase their protection of Araminta.
Griffin had heard about the disappearance of a man called Pushy Pete. Perhaps Araminta’s story confirmed who was responsible.
If Kane had had Pete murdered, Griffin would have to apply more pressure, work faster. And it also meant that Araminta could be in trouble if Kane should discover the connection between the Calversons and her.
He wished he could grab the woman and talk some sense into her, drag her out of Kane’s house to safety. But Miss Woodhall would never tolerate that sort of treatment.
Griffin handed several coins to the doorman. “Send someone up to my rooms to tell my associates I’ve gone to the office and I’ll meet them there.”
He strode up the avenue in the opposite direction Araminta had gone, and attempted to dismiss her from his mind. He was faintly annoyed that he had trouble concentrating on other matters: the memory of her powerful eyes and delicious figure interfered.
Though he did not despise his appetite, he rarely indulged it. Perhaps that was why he had such difficulty concentrating on other matters. He had suppressed himself too long.
As he entered the building that housed the Calverson Company’s offices, a man greeted him with a gruff, “Hey! Mr. Calverson.”
Griffin turned and surveyed the broad-shouldered gray-haired man with the battered nose and even more battered homburg: Gregory Galvin, one of Griffin’s favorite businessmen.
“Galvin. Walk up with me.”
“I’m just here to drop off yer report.”
“Yes. But I hope you can spare a few minutes?”
Galvin eyed him briefly, then turned and waved at the two bull-like young men lurking behind him.
They made their slow way up to the fifth floor using the curving stairway rather than the elevator. Griffin knew the older man didn’t trust those boxes.
After he settled at his desk, Griffin held out a hand. Galvin fished through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled and grubby sheet.
Griffin read the paper, then folded it up and tapped it absently against his palm.
Galvin stood in front of the desk and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “That what you want?”
Griffin nodded. “Yes, it’ll do. Three gambling halls and two brothels more than I’d known about. Well-covered connections, too. It seems I underestimated Mr. Kane.”
“Not like you, boss,” Galvin said. “You’re not usually stupid, are ya?”
The two men with him shot horrified glances at him and then at Griffin, who stared back, entertained. Perhaps the two expected he’d pull out a dirk and stab Galvin for mocking him.
“Ah. Neither are you. Usually,” he said softly to see what the young men w wio. They took a step away from Galvin as if disassociating themselves.
Griffin had had enough playing around. “You two, excuse us. I need to speak to Mr. Galvin alone.”
After his employees had scrambled out the door, Galvin rolled his eyes and remarked, “Puppies. But Buckler’s loyal enough. And Hobnail, well, he’s a special case, ain’t he? They both follow my orders well enough.”
Griffin pointed to an armchair, and Galvin grunted as he eased himself into it.
“Tell me anything else about Kane’s households and domestic arrangements that wouldn’t show up in here.” Griffin flapped the paper he still held.
The older man fingered his tobacco-stained mustache. “He got the usual bunch of assistants, all bigger than dray horses, and at least one at all his establishments. Mostly to protect him, pick up cash, guard the door. He got an honest-to-God butler, maids, the works. Kane’s come a long way from running a couple of gin mills and a rat pit. And that mistress he installed at Park Avenue. Very classy female.”
“Miss Olivia Smith.”
“Yah. Whatever her name is, it probably ain’t Smith.”
“What is she like?”
Galvin’s blunt features were wreathed with wrinkles as his face curved into a smile. “Gorgeous. Perfect, bit thin but with a figure like . . .” Lost for words, he drew the inevitable curves.
Griffin grew impatient. He’d glimpsed the girl the night he visited Kane’s mansion, and he had the impression of a trembling blancmange. Not a jot of fire in her. “I want to know about her personality.”
Galvin rolled his eyes again. “Hold yer horses. I’m getting to it.”
No unctuous underling here, Griffin thought with amusement.
“She’s polite. Classy, like I said.”
“You make her sound horrifyingly respectable. Why do you suppose she’s Kane’s mistress?”
Galvin shrugged. “I dunno. She isn’t like most of the whores. Too innocent like, you know? Kane doesn’t let her around the other girls, but she’s friendly with the cook there. The one that used to work for Miss Timona.”
Interesting—Araminta had found herself a lost puppy. A weakling who needed rescuing. He almost smiled. No wonder she and his sister got on so well. Ah, and perhaps it explained her mission to find help for a “friend.”
He pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, peeled off a few and handed them to Galvin. “Good. Stay awake. And remember, don’t let that cook get in trouble. She’s a friend of my sister’s.”
Galvin leaned forward as he tucked the bills into a back pocket. “That Timona. She makes the oddest friends. A woman who’s just a cook, of all people.”
Griffin restrained himself from arguing that Araminta, though she could be infuriating, was a great deal more than just a cook.
“She might also be a source of information.” He tossed the smooth quartz onto the ink blotter, and told Galvin everything she’d told him about the men in the basement.
Galvin picked up the rock and turned it over in his thick fingers. “Hell. This is Pete’s. One of his lucky rubbing stones.” Galvin gave a low hum. “Hell. I heard Kane say he thought Pushy Pete worked for you.”
“Ah. That’s interesting.”
Galvin rolled the stone back onto the desk. “That cook will make a good on-the-spot witness.”
An unwelcome realization flashed through Griffin. Even more than he wanted to bring down Kane, he wanted to keep Araminta out of danger. “No. Not her. Her usefulness to us is over.”
He’d spoken with too much heat, and Galvin, who paid close attention to everything, blast the man, sniffed, amused. “Well, well. Is it now?”
He watched Griffin a moment or two before adding, “I think I’ll put Hobnail onto watching the cook, since he’s at Park Avenue, and I’m on Kane much of the time. That a problem?”
Griffin shook his head.
Galvin grunted and leaned back in his armchair. He fingered his mustache and his gray eyes focused on Griffin again. “Funny that a little matter like Kane would grab your attention. Wonder why you suddenly decide to bother with me and so many of my boys? And ask a favor of Inspector Byrnes, no less. Before poor old Pete, who isn’t even one of ours, it wasn’t like Kane was a big threat to anything of any importance. Yup, fellow’s got to wonder what you discovered that night you went gambling at that Park Avenue house of his.”
“You are presumptuous, Galvin,” Griffin said mildly.
Galvin winked. “Want I should crawl out of here so Buckler and Hobnail think you’ve beaten me?”
“If it would amuse you.” He watched his friend amble from the room. It was rather amusing, the foolishness people associated with him. Galvin’s men clearly thought Griffin a bully. And Araminta was not the first to call him a brute.
Even his own sister had sometimes implied she was disappointed in his nature. Not the first female in his family to dislike his blunt manner.
A picture of his mother arose, unwelcome, but he didn’t bother to fight the very old memory of her severe face. No point—after all, he saw her every time he looked in the mirror. And truly, he must be grateful for her legacy, for Griffin had little respect for untrammeled passion. Success in any endeavor called for cool minds.
He pushed away from his desk. He ripped up Galvin’s folded report of facts and figures and dropped the shreds into the trash. He’d already committed the report to memory.
Some men collected stamps. He collected information about people who interested him, like Araminta. Or people who threatened him, like Kane.
But leisure time was over. Now he’d take action. Perhaps he’d even take an active role with Kane. Cultivate the man. Keep an eye on his cook.
He pushed the button that summoned Williams, his second in command of the New York office.
Williams knocked and entered at once.
Griffin didn’t trust the ambitious young man, but then he trusted very few people. “I’m not leaving for London as soon as I expected. I’m going to personally address some of the local issues.”
Williams, slender and fashionably dressed, raised a respectful eyebrow. He gazed over the top of his gold-rimmed pince-nez. “Might I ask, sir, which projects you mean?”
The man appeared understandably rattled. Griffin did not normally take over any work he’d already asked others to handle.
“No, no need to look so worried, Williams. I’m not about to march in and bungle any of the negotiations with the mining company. I mean some, ah, less formal business.”
Williams smoothed a hand over his slicked, carefully parted dark hair and cleared his throat. “Before you arrived in w York, I had already spoken to several of our friends at Tammany informally about Mr. Kane and—”
“Good. The next time you meet with any of them, I will attend.”
Williams had been with him long enough to know when to stop pushing. “Yes, sir.” He bowed and left.
Griffin knew Williams wore a puzzled look for a good reason. The New York branch of the Calverson Company and its associates had been threatened before, usually by larger and more menacing problems than one nasty little criminal who wanted to muck about in its concerns. Griffin had let his employees handle these problems.
He was scheduled to board ship to London in a fortnight, but he wouldn’t use those tickets. And why was that?
Araminta. Galvin, damn his shrewd eyes, had spotted the truth.
Griffin wrote a note to be wired to various offices—he’d hear some grumbling that he’d canceled his plans for the next month. But really, his actions weren’t unreasonable.
Timona’s friend was very important to her. It only followed that he would go to some lengths to protect the woman.
He looked forward to future meetings with Araminta. He hoped to channel her fiery spirit into another, more satisfying sort of encounter. Just the thought could stir him.
Yet really, he would have taken these same steps for anyone Timona valued. His silent argument was so effective he almost convinced himself.