by Jen Turano
“Not everyone who lives in the Lower East Side is a criminal, Mr. de Peyster, and your barrier idea is ridiculous. Frankly, I find it appalling that you, a wealthy gentleman of society, along with some of your friends, believe you deserve to be set apart from the masses. Members of society are already set apart due to the exclusivity of society, but one would hope, given the amount of money society families possess, there’d be a desire to show more compassion to those less fortunate, instead of such great concern to protect their assets.”
“Do you believe we should simply open our doors to this Knickerbocker Bandit and allow him to help himself to whatever he wants because he was born into a less-fortunate environment?”
“No, but we should avoid stoking the flames of fear and anger against those people, as you called them, by making declarations that anyone not of society is prone to criminal behavior, and—”
“Forgive me for being late, Nicholas. I was unavoidably delayed due to a meeting with my solicitor.”
Nicholas pulled his attention away from Chauncey and found Professor Cameron standing in front of him, his brown eyes narrowed behind the gold-rimmed spectacles he always wore.
As usual, Professor Cameron was dressed to perfection in a gray jacket, matching trousers, subdued tie that was tied in a perfect knot, and shoes polished to a high sheen. An ebony walking stick with a silver handle inlaid with diamonds completed his outfit.
Rising to his feet, Nicholas held out his hand, shook Professor Cameron’s, then stepped back as Chauncey stood as well. After the expected pleasantries were exchanged, Chauncey resumed his seat. Professor Cameron took a seat in a chair beside Nicholas, although he had to step over Winston to get to that chair, since Winston was now asleep.
“Your nephew and I were just debating what should be done about the Knickerbocker Bandit,” Chauncey began. “He and I are at distinct odds about the matter, a direct result of Mr. Quinn’s radical beliefs.”
Professor Cameron arched a brow Nicholas’s way but didn’t say a word.
“Mr. de Peyster and I are at odds because he seems to believe some type of barrier should be erected around us,” Nicholas began. “I, on the other hand, believe such extreme measures are unnecessary since it’s not as if everyone living in the Lower East Side is guilty of criminal behavior, nor should they be treated as such simply because of the action of one criminal.”
“The Knickerbocker Bandit has been far too successful to be the work of only one criminal,” Chauncey argued. “It’s clearly a coordinated effort on the part of numerous people.”
Nicholas inclined his head. “On that I believe we can agree.”
“Nice to learn you’re not completely unreasonable, Mr. Quinn,” Chauncey said, rising from the chair. “And on that note, allow me to take my leave.” He inclined his head, then turned and strode from the room.
“Why would you allow yourself to become engaged in a debate with Chauncey de Peyster?” Professor Cameron asked. “He’s a leader in society, as is his wife, and it won’t serve you well to be at odds with him, even if he’s one of the most pompous and arrogant gentlemen in New York.”
Nicholas grimaced. “I normally make a point to avoid arguments with any society gentlemen. However, I’m afraid that in this particular instance I couldn’t stay silent, not with the absurd things that were coming out of his mouth. A barrier, I ask you?”
“That is absurd, but the de Peyster family isn’t unlike most society families. We want to protect what’s ours, and you can’t blame us for that. Would you want someone slipping into your house and stealing your valuables?”
“No, but I don’t want to isolate myself from everyone except society members merely to retain possession of my valuables, or mingle with only people society deems acceptable.” He blew out a breath. “The very idea of such isolation seems rather hypocritical, especially when so many members of society attend Grace Church every week. Even though they’re listening to the same sermons I hear during the services, the message doesn’t seem to be resonating. Only two weeks ago, Reverend Michaelson preached about loving thy neighbor, and everyone in attendance was nodding their heads, Chauncey de Peyster being one of them. Today, however, he’s talking about refusing to allow people into our neighborhoods, and that hardly suggests he’s willing to love his neighbors.”
Professor Cameron considered Nicholas before he frowned. “You’ve been acting peculiar lately, which is actually why I asked you to meet me here today.” He glanced around, then sat forward and lowered his voice. “I hate to broach this because it’s a sensitive matter, but since you and Chauncey de Peyster were already discussing the Knickerbocker Bandit, I feel compelled to ask you . . . You haven’t reverted back to any of your old ways, have you?”
“What?”
Professor Cameron winced. “Don’t be angry with me, but I’ve been wondering, what with how easily the Knickerbocker Bandit has been able to steal in and out of societal homes, if, well . . .”
“You’re asking me if I’m the Knickerbocker Bandit?”
“It has to be someone familiar with the layouts of the homes, and you, I’m sorry to say, are familiar with those layouts, given the many events you attend. Add in the notion that you went missing for almost an hour during the Fairchild ball, and . . .”
“I wasn’t helping myself to the contents of the Fairchild safe.”
“Then where were you?”
Nicholas raked a hand through his hair. “Do you honestly believe that I would repay all the kindnesses you’ve extended me by stealing?”
“I know you’ve been bored of late, and I know you occasionally chafe against the constraints society places on you.”
“I’m not the Knickerbocker Bandit.”
“But where did you disappear to the night of the Fairchild ball? You missed dinner, and Miss Maryanne Allen was most disappointed about that.”
“Maryanne may have been disappointed, but she knew full well why I had to briefly repair from the ball. She was with me when I got an unexpected champagne dousing, and I specifically told her that I had to leave to change my shirt.”
“You keep spare clothing in your carriage. It wouldn’t have taken you an hour to change.”
Nicholas raked a hand through his hair again. “True, but because you’re apparently going to turn annoyingly persistent about this, I suppose this is where I finally tell you something I’ve not had an opportunity to discuss with you yet.”
“Does this have more to do with young ladies measuring your worth against that nephew of Mrs. Kaffenburgh, the one who’s an earl?”
“No, but I readily admit I’m bothered by the notion my worth has apparently been measured against some gentleman no one has even seen before, which means no one knows anything about his character. If you ask me, deciding a gentleman’s worth simply by what that gentleman possesses is insulting.”
“Society has always measured a gentleman’s worth that way, and unfortunately for the gentlemen of New York, a title and a castle is impossible to compete with these days.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but I didn’t realize selecting a wife was going to turn into a blood sport.”
Professor Cameron frowned. “It hasn’t turned into that. You’re simply being overly sensitive about the matter, which brings me back to your behavior. What were you about to disclose before I interrupted with my question about Mrs. Kaffenburgh?”
Settling into his chair, Nicholas took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I suppose I should start by stating that I’ve recently begun realizing that I don’t enjoy the shallowness that seems to surround me all the time these days.”
Professor Cameron’s gaze sharpened. “What brought that realization about?”
“A reunion with someone from my past.”
“You haven’t sought out Rookwood, have you?”
“No, but I’m intending to soon. I simply haven’t been able to clear my schedule enough to find time to travel to Five Points.”
“No good
could possibly come from a meeting with that man. He’s a notorious criminal, and if you’re seen in his company, I guarantee the authorities will turn their attention to you and could possibly conclude you’re a viable suspect for the Knickerbocker Bandit thefts.”
“Except that I have no reason to steal anything, since I’m in possession of a rather tidy fortune.”
“I suppose there is that,” Professor Cameron muttered. “But if you’ve not seen Rookwood, who is this person from your past?”
“My best friend from my youth, Gabe, or rather, Gabriella as she prefers to be called now.”
Professor Cameron stilled except for a slight widening of his eyes. “She’s returned to the city?”
“It turns out she never left.”
Taking a few minutes to fill Professor Cameron in on where and under what circumstances he’d been reunited with Gabriella—although he didn’t get into the whole Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency business—Nicholas finished by saying, “It’s clear Rookwood was given inaccurate information about Gabriella’s whereabouts, which is why I’m intending on tracking him down to find out how he could have been so thoroughly misled.”
“You could send that Pinkerton friend of yours, Agent Clifton, to ask those questions for you.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Agent Clifton doesn’t know Rookwood like I do. He won’t be able to tell if Rookwood’s lying to him, but I’ll have a better chance at knowing if I’m being told the truth.” He smiled. “Rookwood has this vein on the side of his head that begins throbbing when he’s being less than truthful.”
“Something you could tell Agent Clifton to look out for,” Professor Cameron said, pulling a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and wiping it across a brow Nicholas only then noticed was perspiring.
“Are you all right?” he asked slowly.
Professor Cameron waved his question aside. “I’m simply becoming overly warm from the fireplace. But returning to Gabriella, what do you think she really wants from you?”
“She doesn’t want anything from me. Frankly, I’m not certain she’ll even agree to resume our friendship, even though she did answer the note I recently sent her.”
“She could be attempting to pique your interest by insisting you maintain your distance. That’s a common ploy with society ladies because they understand the importance of a challenge.”
“Gabriella’s not like society ladies. She can’t be bothered by matters she considers nonsensical in nature, and she’d certainly see presenting herself as a challenge to me as nonsensical.”
Professor Cameron dabbed at his forehead again. “From what you’ve said, she seems reluctant to resume your friendship. Why press the matter with her?”
“Because I’ve missed her,” Nicholas said. “She understands me as no one else can because of our shared past.”
“Your past has nothing to do with who you are today.”
“I respectfully disagree with that. My past shaped who I am.”
“And I must respectfully disagree with that. Your time spent with me shaped the gentleman you’ve become—an educated gentleman with unlimited prospects.”
Knowing they were not going to come to an agreement about that, Nicholas inclined his head. “My life since you took me in hand has certainly allowed me advantages I would have never seen if I’d continued living in the Lower East Side. But if I may return to Gabriella, what you need to understand is how much I missed our friendship, something I didn’t realize until she barreled so unexpectedly into my life again. Even though there’s a very large chasm between the lives we live, Gabriella, again, understands me. She also doesn’t tell me what I expect to hear—she tells me the truth, even if it’s unpleasant, which I experienced after she pointed out how managing I’ve become.”
“That’s not a fault, Nicholas,” Professor Cameron argued. “Gentlemen are expected to manage those weaker than themselves, especially ladies.”
“Gabriella isn’t weaker than me.”
“She’s a woman, and I highly doubt she’d be able to best a man at anything.”
“She may be physically weaker than most men, but she’s incredibly smart, which often allowed her to best many a boy or man down in the Lower East Side, using her intellect to compensate for lack of brute strength.”
“Clearly we’re not going to find common ground when it comes to Gabriella, since I’ve always been of the belief that ladies need to defer to a gentleman’s wiser counsel in all matters and not take those matters into their own hands.”
“You might change your mind about that if you ever meet Gabriella.”
Professor Cameron shook his head. “Highly doubtful, but if you ask me, having Gabriella reenter your life has not had a positive effect on you. You seem to be questioning the very essence of who you’ve become, when there’s nothing for you to doubt. You’re an upstanding member of society, and I fear I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that pursuing a renewed friendship with Gabriella may place your future in jeopardy.”
“And I fear I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that, even knowing society will cringe over my friendship with a woman who is not one of their own, I’m not willing to abandon my desire to resume my friendship with Gabriella. If that places my future at risk, so be it. It’s a risk I’m willing—or rather, that I need—to take.”
CHAPTER
Seventeen
“I need to see that painting again, Eunice. These dogs all look alike, and why is it that they have to be poodles? I detest poodles. They’re vicious creatures, and I have the scars to prove it.”
Gabriella set aside the opera glasses she’d been using to peruse carriages in Central Park and rolled up her coat sleeve, extending her arm. “See, right there, teeth marks that have never gone away, reminding me every time I look at my arm that poodles are terrifying beasts. I have no idea why anyone would want to own one, but from what we’ve seen today, they’re clearly a fashionable breed.”
Eunice lifted her veil and peered at Gabriella’s arm. “That must have been painful.”
“It was,” Gabriella said, shoving down her sleeve as Eunice began wrestling a large painting out of the bag they’d been using to conceal it.
That Eunice was wearing her usual attire of widow’s weeds was not surprising, nor was it surprising that she’d chosen to wear a full veil that entirely covered her face. What was surprising, though, was that Eunice had insisted on accompanying Gabriella to the park, because she tended to avoid public places.
“Precious looks exactly like every poodle we’ve seen today,” Eunice said, looking over the painting she was holding. “That’s certainly making our assignment of locating Mrs. Thomas Goelet’s missing darling more difficult than I anticipated.”
Gabriella considered the painting Mrs. Goelet had supplied the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency. “At least Precious is wearing a diamond-studded collar. That should make identifying her easier, if Daphne’s right about what she believes happened to Precious, and if Precious is still wearing her original collar.”
After taking a last glance at the painting, Eunice set it aside. “We’re fortunate to have Daphne’s vivid imagination available to us because I never considered that Mrs. Goelet’s dog was not stolen by a stranger. It definitely never entered my head that the dog might have been taken by her husband to give to his latest lady love.”
“I’m relatively certain that’s what happened, since Florence Shaw overheard one of her customers at Tiffany’s talking about Mrs. Goelet’s missing dog, and then mentioned seeing Mr. Goelet walking a poodle the day Precious disappeared. Society gentlemen are rarely seen walking their wives’ dogs, which was a red flag if there ever was one.”
“But how would Daphne, a confirmed spinster, conclude that Mr. Goelet took the dog to give to his lady love? I would have thought matters of lady loves were foreign to her.”
“Come now, Eunice,” Gabriella began. “Daphne may be a spinster, as am I, but Bleecker Street is filled with women who intr
oduce themselves as Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Green, or any other unassuming name. Everyone knows those women don’t have husbands living with them, just as they know the men who pay for their room and board, are, well, unscrupulous types. It’s an unfortunate circumstance these women are living, but one that’s all too common, although it’s rarely discussed.”
“It is unfortunate, to say the least,” Eunice agreed before a comfortable silence settled between them as they waited for more carriages to approach.
“Speaking of spinsters,” Eunice suddenly said, “I’ve been wondering if you may be leaving that state soon, seeing how you received a note from Mr. Nicholas Quinn.”
“Receiving a note from a gentleman is hardly an indication that there’s a wedding in the near future. But how did you know I got a note from Nicholas?”
Eunice nodded toward Ivan, who was sitting on the driver’s seat of her carriage, which was parked a short distance away from them. “Ivan mentioned it, although I’m curious why you’ve not broached the matter of Nicholas Quinn with me. We seem to talk much more than we used to these days because of our new business venture, and yet hardly a word about Nicholas has been shared between us.”
“You’re not a woman who invites shared confidences.”
“You don’t find me approachable?”
“Approachable is not a word that springs to mind when people think of you. Terrifying would be a better description.” Gabriella shook her head. “I cannot tell you how many times you’ve scared me half to death when you simply appear out of thin air, your preference for always wearing black allowing you to blend into the shadows incredibly efficiently.”
“I wear black because I’m in mourning.”
“From what I’ve overheard, you’ve been in mourning for years, which does beg the question how old you were when you married Mr. Holbrooke. I don’t get the impression you’re much older than thirty.”
Eunice’s eyes widened. “You think I’m thirty?”