Claudine lay still, fearful that any movement would make him aware of himself and prevent him from confiding whatever secret he was building up to.
“So I didn’t consider it odd when a woman approached me as I was making my rounds on the third floor. I’d seen her before. She was one of the many women who came to Ardaut House to leave their children in the nursery to be looked after during the day so they could work. She was very attractive, but I had no serious thoughts about her as she was much older than I.”
Familiar with the settlement house and its vacant rooms, Claudine could easily imagine the scene.
“She spoke to me that day with some urgency, but the language she spoke was unfamiliar to me so I couldn’t fathom what she needed. She led me into one of the empty rooms. Once we were alone, she became very forward. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t. I had no experience with women and had not yet learned to master my urges at that age.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Where was your mother?”
“She was too busy with her work to have any idea. Some men would probably consider me lucky to have such an initiation into love making, but I wish it hadn’t happened. For a long time I felt ashamed… and weak because I allowed it to happen.”
Claudine couldn’t believe he’d divulged such an intimate secret with her. Though she was resentful of this woman who’d seduced him, his confession made her feel better. The similarities between their first sexual experiences struck a chord deep within her. “You understand.”
“I do.”
She snuggled closer to the heat of his body, rested her cheek upon the hard muscles of his chest, and absorbed the steady, calming tempo of his heartbeat. The ship pitched and rolled upon the ocean waves, but she felt safe and secure.
Her eyelids grew so heavy she could no longer keep her eyes open. “But you have more control over your urges now?” she mumbled.
“Complete control,” he assured her, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
“So you won’t sneak off to find Mrs. Glendenning after I fall asleep?”
“This is where I want to be.” He sounded somewhat amazed by his low admission, and the deep tenor of his words surrounded her like a blanket.
Maybe she’d been meant to find Leo again after all these years. She was certainly glad she had. Her infatuation had transcended into something real and powerful, and she knew, with the certainty and wisdom of a grown woman, that there would only ever be this one man for her.
“I still wish I could be innocent for you,” she whispered.
His thumb slid lazily back and forth along her jaw. “I think you might be the most innocent girl I’ve ever known.”
He made her feel cherished, rather than damaged. Whether he did so to make her feel better or because he truly meant what he said, she loved him for it. And maybe, just maybe, he loved Madeleine.
But would he love Claudine? Would he mind that she’d lied to him from the moment they’d met? She nestled snuggly in his warm embrace, trying to savor the moment because it seemed unlikely that such circumstances would ever recur.
Chapter Eleven
Claudine gripped the railing as she gazed at the giant oxidizing woman stretching her beacon of light into an intensely bright sky. A thrill rushed through her. She’d seen the Statue of Liberty on her last visit to Manhattan, but this time, through adult eyes, it seemed like more than a marvel of art and architecture. It was a sign of welcome.
Leo’s hand covered hers. He was grinning at her as though he could read her mind. She wished she could read his, even a little. The nascent bond between them felt extraordinary and precious, but fragile, and she was afraid to test it by insisting upon answers to questions he might not have considered yet.
The skirt of her blue linen sailor suit billowed in the wind. She’d miss seeing Leo every day. A few days ago he’d said something about finding her an apartment in one of his buildings near the theater, but she had no idea where that might be or what rent he’d ask. Would he ask for rent now that they were no longer strictly employer-employee?
She couldn’t imagine him concerning himself with the matter at all, but now she was concerned—deeply concerned. It would be awkward either way. And what exactly were they to each other? Leo certainly hadn’t given any hints about his intentions.
Questions involving her employment were even more difficult to broach. They’d never discussed her salary or how many shows she’d be required to do each week. She should have brought up the subject from the start. A professional singer certainly would have done so.
At the moment, a conversation would have been difficult. The ship’s engine chugged loudly, and they were not alone. Other passengers were crowded at the railing, discussing their plans and promising to see each other again.
Soon after a cursory medical exam by physicians who boarded the ship, they disembarked with the other first-class passengers. At the bottom of the gangplank, Leo scanned the crowd waiting on the pier and motioned to someone. A long-faced skinny young man wearing in an ill-fitting dark formal suit headed toward them. Wildly curly auburn hair stuck out from beneath his cap.
“This is Guillory, my footman,” Leo explained.
Guillory reached for Claudine’s valise. “I’ll take that for you, ma’am,” he said with a cheerful Irish accent. His smile revealed a few missing teeth.
A driver awaited them as well. Leo helped her into a shiny navy blue brougham parked among a cluster of hansom cabs and climbed in beside her. The windows were open, but the leather bench had still absorbed the sun’s heat so there was little relief from the merciless temperature. She could feel herself perspiring beneath her constricting layers. The carriage bounced as the footman and driver struggled with loading the trunks and the crate.
Leo removed a folded newspaper from his valise and fanned her. “Summers are brutal here. You’ll grow accustomed eventually.” Despite the heat, he looked comfortable in his linen suit and silk necktie.
“If I don’t, will you just keep fanning me all day long?”
“Of course. It shall be my first priority.”
“You’ll visit me often?”
Before he could answer, the brougham lurched into traffic, and he acted as though the question had never been asked. A slight breeze blew inside, carrying with it the odor of decaying refuse and horse droppings. Warehouses and shipping offices gave way to four, five, and six story brick tenements with shops on the ground floor crammed with exotic foodstuffs and products.
It seemed everyone was trying to sell something. White aproned storekeepers swept the sidewalks surrounding their overflowing display of goods. Pushcart vendors hawked their wares in the streets, their brightly painted carts vying for attention with suggestions like Try our Genuine Ices and Ice Wafers, Only a Penny Each.
Along the avenues, carriages and wagons boldly cut in front of slow moving horse-drawn omnibuses while elevated railways hurtled brave passengers through the sky. “They all seem to be in such a hurry, and the day is nearly over,” she mused.
“If you lived in this neighborhood, you too might strive constantly to find a way out. It’s the possibility that drives them, the idea that anything is possible if you work hard enough for long enough.”
“I suppose you concur.”
“I used to believe that, but now I think hard work means nothing if you don’t have luck as well. And imagination. When one path closes, you must be able to invent another.”
“Was that why you joined the circus?”
He nodded but offered no further explanation.
On the sidewalk fruit sellers and rag merchants haggled, argued, and joked with women wearing headscarves. Unattended children were everywhere: running errands and playing games amid street traffic, gazing down from rooftops, loitering on fire escapes. Some of them had no shoes. Most of them looked dirty and malnourished.
The city was so much more disorderly and dirty than she recalled, but
she’d been a child when she’d last seen Manhattan. Now she knew what it was to be poor and desperate. Her worst case scenario for the future plummeted to a new depth. She could no longer contain her unease about the practical details of her immediate future. “Are my lodgings near this neighborhood?”
He didn’t reply right away. Then he said, “I think it might be best for you to live with me, at least initially. This is a dangerous city, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t know you were safe.”
If the carriage had fallen to pieces beneath her, she would not have noticed. She was that stunned. He wanted to live with her. Surely, that inclination indicated a depth of feeling beyond mere lust. He truly cared for her.
Or was it only a matter of convenience? Was he asking her to become his mistress? In view of her aversion to love making, Leo clearly did possess a keen imagination.
And what would his neighbors think? The question burst forth before she could contain it.
For some reason, he seemed to find her practical consideration amusing. “My neighbors?” he repeated with a quirk of his lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever met them and can’t imagine why they would care.”
“Then you don’t understand society.”
“And you do? Please enlighten me.”
Her protest sounded foolish coming from a cabaret singer. She was hardly respectable anymore. According to the modest background she’d invented for herself, she knew little of society other than her place in it, somewhere near the lower end. “Perhaps we could continue to tell people we are brother and sister,” she said lamely.
His eyebrows rose. “I imagine that would lead to even worse gossip than the kind you hope to avoid.”
As the carriage rumbled eastward toward Washington Square Park, she glimpsed an archway that reminded her of the Arc de Triomphe. That wasn’t there before, she almost blurted in amazement before she caught herself. She was Madeleine now, and she’d never been here before. Everything had changed.
They headed north at Fifth Avenue. Stately Greek Revival townhouses lined either side of the street. Improprieties would not go unremarked in such a neighborhood. Even if she were able to endure the inevitable censure from the neighbors in order to be with Leo, she might never be able to overcome her other problem. Surely, his patience with her would soon wear thin and he’d lose interest. Where would that leave her?
Almost as if he knew her thoughts, Leo brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. The contact set off a tiny frisson beneath her gloves. “I have no intention of rushing you. You’ll have your own room, your own privacy. I only want to know you are safe.”
He wanted to protect her. The tenderness in his eyes and voice touched her so deeply that for a moment all practical considerations melted away and she said simply, “Thank you.”
A huge grin spread upon his beautiful face. “So you’ll live with me?”
“I want to, but I don’t see how I can,” she said quietly.
He jiggled his foot, causing one leg to bounce restlessly as he looked around the carriage and then out the window. Then suddenly he turned back to her, lifted her chin in his hand, and kissed her. Her breath caught as his lips brushed hers at an angle, and moved gently back again as if he were savoring every nuance of her response. There was something hypnotic about the way he kissed. The slow rhythm of measured strokes wiped away all worries.
Her plumed hat fell off and her head spun. Her hands gripped his broad shoulders for support. They quickly slid to the back of his neck, her fingertips delving into his thick hair. He smelled, as always, clean, male, and delicious, and she snuggled closer to the solidity of his chest.
As soon as she did, his hands gripped her waist and smoothed up along her spine, molding her body to his while his tongue swept into her mouth. Her breath came fast. That frisson she’d felt earlier intensified. His hand slid inside her jacket, skimmed along her bodice, and found her breast. She gasped as his thumb brushed back and forth. Beneath the layers of cotton and silk, her nipple tightened and rose.
A whimper of urgency escaped her lips. Mindlessly, she shifted, straining to be closer to him. Gripping her waist and one thigh, he lifted her onto lap. Her skirts bunched around her as she parted her thighs around him, angled her hips, and rocked against him to assuage her need.
But he did not follow her encouragement. If anything, his manner became more restrained, almost passive. The more he withheld, the more forward she became, coaxing him with her mouth and her hips in ways she didn’t think herself capable of.
Abruptly, he broke off their torrid kiss, removed her from his lap, and set her down on the bench beside. Then he gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead and said, “I’m afraid I just contradicted myself. Sorry.”
When he shifted his body to face forward on the bench once again, his commanding profile conveyed no regret, only an air of satisfaction. His leg no longer bounced with restless energy.
She, on the other hand, was mortified by what she’d just done. In a carriage. Travelling along one of the busiest thoroughfares in Manhattan. An excellent first impression she was making. She noticed, to her vast relief, that Leo had managed to close the curtains at some point, but her behavior still appalled her. What had come over her? She’d acted like a wanton, utterly shameless.
And then it dawned on her: She’d felt the full measure of desire for the first time in her life, and acted upon it, without shame, fear, or revulsion. Maybe there was hope for her. Her vision blurred. She couldn’t face Leo just yet so she pulled aside the curtain and let the warm breeze cool her hot face. Perhaps she would make an excellent mistress after all.
Fancy shops and hotels had invaded what used to an exclusively residential row of brownstone mansions. In the distance stood a huge Moorish-looking building. Its astonishingly high tower jutted into the sky. A copper statue of a naked Diana, shooting an arrow upon one foot, perched on top.
“That’s Sanford White’s new Madison Square Garden,” Leo said in a neutral tone. “The tower is modeled after the Giralda, the bell tower of the Cathedral of Seville. It’s thirty-two stories high. What do you think?”
“I think it can’t decide what it wants to be.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Such excellent judgment you have. May I consult you in all my future architectural decisions?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“To the contrary. I think you are uncommonly astute for your age and background.”
The burden of her lies weighed upon her once again. She smiled up at him stiffly as a bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She tried to imagine what her life would be with Leo, sleeping in his bed every night. The idea only made her face hotter and stirred up the restless dissatisfaction inside her. The sun was still fairly high in the sky.
Better to focus upon something else, like her career. “Will you show me the theater today and introduce me to the other performers?”
He flicked away an invisible speck from his coat sleeve. “Not today. I’ll need to see to my business affairs without delay. I’ve been away for weeks.”
“Oh, of course. Perhaps tomorrow then.”
His silence set her on edge. She really should insist upon knowing the details of her employment. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked out the window and tilted her head to take in the absurdly large mansions, many newly built in a smattering of styles, Neo-Gothic, French baroque, Renaissance.
Soon the soft green expanse of Central Park stretched out to her left. The carriage turned right on East 68th Street and came to a halt before a six-story Beaux-Arts building of rusticated limestone. Two tall arched windows bordered a cobalt blue arched door on the ground floor. Curved stone balconies adorned the second floor windows. A tall black iron fence separated the ground floor entrance from the sidewalk.
Leo opened the door, jumped down, and held out his hand to assist her. “Home at last.”
Vague possibilities rippled through her mind as she took his hand. Then
she caught herself. The statement was nothing more than a casual remark to put her at ease. A mistress was not a wife. This would never be her home. He might decide to discard her after a day or a week or a month. She should be prepared. Fantasizing would only lead to heartbreak.
She looked up at the grand edifice with a critical eye. “Why does one man need such a large residence?”
“I bought it as an investment property four years ago. I meant to improve and sell it, but the process took so long I became accustomed to living here. And the location is ideal for me, close to the park. You’ll love the park. I can’t wait to take you there.”
A balding fair-haired man in a dark suit with shiny brass buttons appeared in the entryway. His eyes were an intense light blue. A dark burn scar, raised and wrinkly, marked the right side of his face. His body looked oddly disproportionate with a long, brawny upper body and short legs. “Welcome home, sir,” he said with a lilting foreign accent Claudine couldn’t identify.
“Thank you, Trilling. This is Mademoiselle Lavoie. Please see that her trunks are brought to the blue guest room.”
“Yes, sir.”
She supposed that was all the explanation the butler was to receive, but she wondered what he would think of their new living arrangement. Servants tended to gossip. Soon the whole neighborhood would know.
As the butler proceeded down the stairs toward the waiting cab, Claudine noticed he had a pronounced limp. She feared the trunks might be too much for him, but Leo took her by the hand and led her inside. “Don’t stare,” he whispered. “He’s self-conscious.”
Leo launched into a tour immediately, talking about everything but the significance of what they were doing. There was much to display. Every room was a finely crafted work of art. Extensive detailing covered nearly every surface. A mosaic pattern decorated the floor of the long main hall. Most of the rooms were paneled. Several had painted ceilings and Venetian glass chandeliers.
And there were modern conveniences throughout: an elevator, a candlestick telephone (the first she’d ever seen), speaking tubes, and running water in each of the bathrooms, six to be exact (she’d asked), along with fifteen bedrooms. They might never find each other in such a house.
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