The Rogue of Fifth Avenue

by Joanna Shupe

  Byrnes looked reluctant to leave, probably because he wished to revel in his destruction, the bastard. “Of course, sir. Thank you.” The superintendent gave a short bow and departed.

  Duncan dragged a hand over his face. “Christ, what a mess.”

  Frank couldn’t agree more. And it would only get worse from here. Livingston and Byrnes would relish telling everyone in Manhattan about Frank’s background. The scandal would forever change Frank’s life. The partners at the firm would be furious. He’d lose his club memberships. No one in society would speak to him. His career as high society’s favorite lawyer was over.

  Yet, that wasn’t what hurt the most.

  What really hurt was the way Mamie avoided looking at him, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. He cared about nothing else in this calamity but seeing Mamie’s eyes sparkle once more. He’d beg, plead—even get down on bended knee, if necessary. He would do whatever it took because he had to put this right.

  He couldn’t lose her. Not now.

  “Duncan, I’d like a moment alone with your daughter, if you don’t mind.”

  The older man sighed. “I suppose there’s no harm in that, at least not now anyway. Mamie?”

  Mamie nodded. “Daddy, I’m so sorry about all this.”

  “I’m the one who is sorry. I thought Chauncey . . . Well, I was being selfish, wasn’t I?” Duncan’s face softened and he swallowed hard. “Mamie, you may not come to me with skinned knees and bee stings any longer, but I’m always here for you. Nothing will ever change that.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He rose, came around the side of the desk and planted a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, Marmalade.” Then Duncan approached Frank. “You and I will speak tomorrow,” he said quietly. “And I expect you to respect my house.”

  “I will, sir.”

  The answer must have satisfied Mamie’s father. He walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Silence descended in Duncan’s office, the hiss and pop of the dying fire the only sound. Frank had anticipated Mamie’s anger, for her to yell at him about his deception. Yet she merely waited, quiet, her body perfectly still. A shell of indifference seemed to surround her and he wasn’t certain how to break through.

  He lowered himself in the chair next to her and cleared his throat. “Marmalade?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Florence’s childhood nickname for me. I thought he’d forgotten it.”

  More silence. “I’d like to explain. To tell you why.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. Mamie, will you please look at me?” She met his eyes, her expression flat. A stab of pain that he suspected was guilt erupted under his ribs. “The world, this world”—he gestured to the room—“judges one’s background very harshly. I knew I’d never be accepted if I told the truth.”

  “Yes, but I am not everyone. You know my work downtown, how I truly feel. I’m not one to sit in judgment of another’s upbringing, especially when mine has been so privileged. Yet you continued to lie to me, even after . . .”

  After they’d slept together. Yes, he understood. “How was I supposed to tell you after all this time?”

  “Easily. ‘Actually, Mamie,’” she said in a deep voice. “‘I was born in Five Points.’ There, see how easy that was?”

  “Be serious—”

  “I am being serious.” She shot to her feet and put distance between them. It was only a few feet, but it felt like miles to Frank. “You’ve lied to me about your family, your birthplace. Your parents in Chicago and your grandfather’s copper mine . . . All lies. I don’t even know who you are!”

  He rose. “You know exactly who I am. I’m still the same man who found you in casinos at night, who represents Mrs. Porter and who held you after Chauncey attacked you. A man who loves you beyond all reason and logic.”

  She covered her mouth, tears pooling on her bottom lids. “Yet that man couldn’t be honest with me about where he’d come from, the experiences and people who shaped him. You know, I suspected you were lying about your background when we had dinner at Sherry’s that night. I should have trusted my gut. I’m so stupid for trusting you instead.”

  “You are not stupid. I may have broken your trust, but I’ll make it up to you.”

  This did not appear to reassure her. She asked, “Do you have family in the city?”

  “Yes. My mother and brother. My two sisters live just outside the city.”

  Mamie squeezed her eyes shut, which caused two fat tears to roll down her cheeks. “Do you see them? Talk to them?”

  “I’ve spoken to my brother recently for the first time since I left home.”

  She winced. “And the others?” He shook his head and her shoulders dropped. “You haven’t spoken to your mother or your sisters in all these years? I cannot . . . I cannot wrap my mind around it. How could you walk away from them?”

  Her judgment rankled, and Frank’s neck grew hot. “Mamie, my father was Roy Porter. No, he was worse than Roy Porter. All of us kids suffered his abuse, and my mother the brunt of it.”

  “So that means you run away and never speak to them again? My God, your mother . . . She must blame herself.”

  That’s Frankie’s money. I’ll give it back to him when he comes home.

  Emotion clogged his throat. No, his mother had urged him to go. She’d known he wouldn’t survive in Five Points. And he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He’d clawed his way to the top of New York’s elite, where he’d thrived. Made enough money that he’d never be able to spend it all. Partner in a prestigious law firm. His name in all the newspapers. The city’s most desirable debutante in his bed . . . Frank Murphy never would have had any of it.

  And now Frank Tripp had lost it all.

  He didn’t care. Not a bit of it mattered except for Mamie. He could lose everything, but he couldn’t lose her.

  “Is Tripp your legal name, or is it still Murphy?”

  “I legally changed it to Tripp when I turned eighteen.” She winced at that statement, so he begged, “Please, Mamie. Let me explain.”

  She made a scoffing noise. “You mean, let you attempt to talk your way out of this. That’s what you do, isn’t it, Frank? But I am neither a judge nor a jury. I am the woman who cared about you. Who loved—”

  When she bit off the words, he rocked back on his heels as if he’d been struck. “Do not use the past tense. Please. I love you madly.”

  More tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked away. “I cannot love a man I don’t know. Worse, you’ve been lying for so long I suspect you don’t even know yourself.” She wiped her face. “You’ve broken my heart—and I’m not certain who to blame.”

  Before he could say anything, she hurried toward the door with her head down. He hated that he’d hurt her, that she was upset. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? “Mamie, wait.”

  She ignored him, disappearing into the darkness, taking everything he’d ever wanted with her.

  “You cannot stay in bed all day.”

  Mamie ignored Florence’s voice and burrowed under the bedclothes. She didn’t care. She absolutely would stay in bed all day.

  Suddenly, the pillow was ripped away from her face and bright light assaulted her eyes. Her sister had opened the curtains, dash it. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Getting you out of bed. Come on, now. Rise and shine.”

  “Why?” She tried to roll over, but Florence’s hand stopped her.

  “For one, because it’s not like you. Marion Greene is not a moper.”

  “I am allowed to change.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But we Greene girls are made of stronger stuff. A little tiff with our intended is not the end of the world.”

  Mamie rolled over and glared at her sister. “It is not a little tiff and he’s not my intended.”

  “Pff. It is and he is. Now, I understand you’re upse
t for not knowing his background, but surely you understand why he lied. You have seen how the world views people from the supposed wrong part of town.”

  “I understand why he lied to everyone else, but not to me.” Love required honesty and trust to thrive, and Frank had given her neither. So whatever they’d shared had merely been lust, not something lasting and real.

  And God, how that hurt.

  “Fine. The second reason you have to get up is that you promised Justine she could join you downtown today.”

  Mamie groaned. She’d forgotten. You cannot abandon Mrs. Porter and the children merely because Frank broke your heart.

  Now she’d need to appear cheerful all day. The thought made her slightly nauseated. “Any chance Justine doesn’t know what happened last night?”

  “Daddy told all of us at breakfast. And it’s in the newspapers.”

  Mamie sat up, her heart in her throat. “It is? They printed that Frank and I . . .”

  “No. Goodness, no. About Frank’s background, his real family. Did you know his brother brews beer?”

  “Out of that whole story, that’s what you find most interesting?” Sometimes Mamie didn’t understand her younger sister. “And no, I did not. Frank didn’t tell me any details about them.”

  “So, you love him?”

  “Frank’s brother?”

  Florence smirked. “Nice try. You forget, I’m the one who told you to seduce him.”

  Mamie sat up and pushed the hair out of her face. “Then I have you to blame for this entire mess.”

  “You’re being too hard on him. You two barely got to know one another before you called it off. Think about Chauncey. You’ve known him for years, yet he tried to attack you in the gazebo. You never really know someone, Mamie. We must go by his or her character instead. Chauncey is an overprivileged, entitled brat. He’s been given everything and worked for none of it.”

  “And?” Mamie asked when Florence gave her a meaningful look.

  “And Frank had nothing, built himself up into a powerful, wealthy man. He knows what it means to work hard for something. He has integrity.”

  Yes, Mamie supposed he did. Frank started from humble beginnings; it couldn’t have been easy to leave his family and strike out on his own at such a young age.

  Still, he should have told her. After everything they had done and said to one another, he should’ve been honest. How could she ever forget the sting of his betrayal? It felt all encompassing, a pain that started in her heart and reached every vein and pore in her body.

  A knock sounded at the door. Both girls looked up as their parents walked in. Her mother’s eyes brimmed with concern while their father appeared disheveled, as if he’d repeatedly run his hands through his hair.

  “My darling girl,” her mother said and sat on the bed. She wrapped her arms around Mamie. “I am very upset with your father for not waking me last night. I should have been there for you.”

  Mamie sagged into her mother’s familiar embrace. “Thank you, but there wasn’t anything you could do.”

  “A mother doesn’t need to do anything to be helpful. A mother exists to ease her child’s pain. When your father told me what happened, I knew you must be hurting.”

  “I assumed you would be angry with me.”

  Her mother leaned back. “Mamie, you are my most practical, most level-headed daughter—”

  “I beg your pardon,” Florence said, shoving her hands on her hips. “I would like to point out that I have been advising her throughout this entire escapade.”

  “Encouraging recklessness, no doubt,” their father said. “Run along, Florence. Give us some privacy.”

  Florence grumbled under her breath but left nonetheless. “As I was saying,” her mother continued. “You are my practical, level-headed daughter. You’ve never been given to flights of fancy or changing your mind. He’s obviously the reason you asked for more time before agreeing to marry Chauncey.”

  “Yes.” No need to deny it now.

  “Well, I apologize for not seeing it before. Chauncey always seemed like a good fit for you, and you never questioned the match. So I thought you were happy with that choice.”

  “Chauncey was Daddy’s choice,” Mamie reminded her mother. “And he promised to let Florence and Justine choose their own husbands if I agreed to marry Chauncey.”

  Mama’s jaw fell open and she frowned at her husband. “Is this true, Duncan?”

  He had the grace to look sheepish. “I wasn’t planning on holding her to that promise. I just didn’t want her getting ideas in her head about other men.”

  “You used her love for her sisters as a weapon. How could she possibly understand you were not serious?”

  “She is the oldest and I thought Chauncey would make a good husband. The betrothal had been in place for eons and I didn’t want any reason to call it off. How was I to know what the boy was really like?”

  “You and I will have words in a moment,” Mama said, her tone laced with steel. “Mamie, do you wish to marry Frank Tripp—oh, I suppose it’s Murphy, isn’t it? Is he what you want?”

  Mamie rubbed the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “I don’t know. I cannot forgive him for lying.”

  “Well, you must decide. Reputations are a tricky thing, and if you don’t marry him then we will send you to Paris or Rome for a year. You’ll weather out the scandal there.”

  Paris or Rome for a year? Away from her family and friends. Away from Frank . . . Her stomach clenched. That sounded positively unbearable.

  “If he is what you want,” her father said, “then I will get him for you. But before I meet him this afternoon, I must know your wishes.”

  She didn’t like the idea of her father strong-arming a marriage for her. Again. Besides, she wasn’t ready to forgive Frank, this relative stranger that she’d been intimate with. “I cannot give an answer yet. But, whatever happens remains between him and me. I ask that you not pressure him into marrying me.”

  “He ruined you,” her father growled. “We should force him to do the right thing.”

  “Duncan, stop. She either decides to marry him quickly or we’ll send her to relatives abroad. I won’t have her in a miserable marriage. I would rather she was happy, as we are.”

  Her father’s gaze melted at that, a small smile on his broad face, the one he wore just for their mother. “Fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “But the two of them need to decide soon. Byrnes and Livingston will have Mamie’s involvement in this all over town by afternoon tea.”

  A sniffling Mrs. Rand handed Frank two empty boxes. “I cannot believe you are quitting.”

  Fired, more like it. Yes, Frank had officially resigned from the firm this morning, but it had been made clear by the other three partners that he was no longer welcome here. He couldn’t really blame them, not after the headlines today. The newspapers made him out to sound like some sort of grifter, a man who’d created a persona to flimflam the upper-class elites. He’d never have another client who resided above Forty-Second Street.

  He wished he could feel angry about it . . . but he felt nothing. He’d been numb since Mamie walked out last night.

  I cannot love a man I don’t know. Worse, you’ve been lying so long I suspect you don’t even know yourself.

  Those words haunted him. He’d had everything in the palm of his hand only a few hours ago. Now, he had nothing.

  He took the boxes. “I’m sure you’ve read the morning editions. There’s no need to pretend with me.”

  “I don’t care if your name is Tripp, Murphy or Carnegie, you’re the same man I’ve been working with for four years. You’re a great lawyer and you should not let those old buzzards run you out.”

  The side of his mouth hitched. “I’m going to miss you, Mrs. Rand.”

  She waved her hand and hurried from his office. He heard her blowing her nose at her desk as he looked around. There wasn’t much in his office to pack. No family photos. No mementos. No artwork or ce
rtificates of merit. Just blank walls and papers. God, that was pathetic.

  He wouldn’t even take any files. All of his cases had been turned over to the partners, save one: Mrs. Porter. No lawyer at the firm would take it on, so he’d filed a motion to withdraw from the case this morning. That way, Mrs. Porter could find a new attorney, one not tainted in scandal.

  “Well, well, well . . .”

  Frank’s head snapped up at the voice and found Julius Hatcher, his longtime friend, strolling into the office. Julius removed his derby. “I spend two months in London and look at what I return to.”

  Heat worked its way up Frank’s neck. “Shut the door. If you’re going to shout at me, I’d rather the whole building not hear it.”

  Julius did shut the door, but then he came over and shook Frank’s hand. “And why would I shout at you?”

  Frank faced the man he’d known since law school, when Frank traveled to Manhattan on breaks for debauchery. “For not telling you all these years.”

  Julius shook his head and lowered himself into an empty chair. “I suspected something was amiss when you never went to visit this supposed family and the family never visited you. But you know my background. It’s hardly pristine. Who was I to judge?”

  “Maybe that’s why we always got on so well.”

  “Perhaps. So, Miss Marion Greene . . .”

  Frank sat in the chair behind the desk and squinted at his famously reclusive friend. “That wasn’t in the newspaper.”

  “Indeed, it wasn’t, but I do have my ways of learning information.”

  “Your wife, I suppose. And how is the Lady Nora?”

  Julius’s mouth hitched into a smile. “Wonderful. However, let’s not lose the topic at hand. Word is you’ve ruined Miss Greene, broken up her engagement to Livingston.”

  “I . . .” He couldn’t even deny it. Yes, he’d done those things. “I want to marry her.”

  “What’s the problem, then? Her father?”

  “No. She’s the problem. She says she cannot love a man she doesn’t know.”

  “She’s hurt because you lied to her.”