A Scandalous Deal

by Joanna Shupe

“Of course,” she said sweetly. Too sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Mansfield.”

  Tripp tried to hold back a laugh and failed. Phillip scowled at him and his attorney instantly sobered. “Right. Seems we all have a bit to do. I’ll get started on an injunction to demand the workers cease striking or risk being fired. I’ve got a few judges who owe me favors so I should have it signed by tonight. Keep me posted on any developments. We should try to resolve this in the next day or so, to keep the bad press to a minimum.”

  “We’ll handle the press from my end,” Phillip said, nodding at Gabriel. “And believe me, I want this resolved as quickly as possible. Every day the work is stopped pushes us that much further from meeting our deadline.”

  “I understand. Good day, all. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you, Frank,” Phillip said, extending his hand.

  “Of course, though this is the reason you pay me a ridiculous amount of money.” After shaking hands with everyone, Tripp disappeared into the waiting carriage and drove off.

  “Gabriel and I will return to my office. May I drop either of you along the way?”

  “Think I’ll stick around and keep an eye on things here,” Carew said.

  That was smart. “Just send word if you need help. Miss Ashford?”

  “No, thank you. But before you go, may I speak with you a moment, privately?”

  Though he itched to do something, Phillip sent Gabriel ahead in his carriage. At least then the Pinkertons could be dispatched before the situation grew out of hand. Carew excused himself and wandered down the block, out of earshot.

  Exhaling, Phillip scrubbed his face with his hands. This project had been cursed from the start. He hadn’t known building in his own backyard would turn into such a headache. Boston and Chicago had been nothing like this.

  “Phillip, I’m terribly sorry.” Eva touched his forearm. “I never dreamed anything like this would happen.”

  That made two of them. “I know. No one is blaming you.”

  “How could they not? I’m the reason the workers are unhappy.”

  “No, you’re merely an excuse. This is about Tammany Hall trying to strong-arm me into doing what they want.”

  A ghost of a smile passed over her face. “They don’t know how stubborn you are, apparently.”

  “Apparently not. Any chance you’ll tell me what you’re planning?”

  “No. It’s just an idea, and I need to see if it’ll work first.”

  “I don’t like you keeping secrets from me.”

  Her eyes widened, almost panicked, but she quickly masked it. “I promise to tell you everything when the time is right.”

  “Everything? Meaning, there are other secrets?”

  “Let’s straighten this mess out first, then we can work on us.”

  Something in his chest loosened, the dread easing just a little. Remarkable, this power she held over him. Leaning in, he said softly, “I like the sound of that, working on us. I’m holding you to that promise.”

  A blush worked its way over her throat, the pulse in her neck hammering. “And I’m holding you to your promise as well, that we’ll be equals in whatever happens.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear.”

  It took her two days but Eva finally managed to organize a very specific group of workers. An all-female construction crew.

  With Nora’s help, she had rallied every woman in New York City, Brooklyn, and New Jersey with the ability to hold a hammer to come to the Mansfield Hotel construction site. They had started with the women’s associations and word had quickly spread. Any woman was welcome, whether she had experience or not. The point was to send a message to the men outside, the men who refused to work because the architect was a woman.

  So let them see how eager women were to take their jobs.

  That morning, the Pinkerton agents, as well as the city’s police, held the striking crew members aside to let the women pass, Eva at the front of the line. Curses and rocks rained down on them, but each woman remained firm, her chin high. They had known what to expect, the hate and vitriol the men would spew, and they were ready for it.

  You whores!

  Go back home, cunt!

  Stupid fucking cows!

  Eva tried not to flinch at the words, even as a particularly large stone bounced off her shoulder. She refused to let them see her rattled. Nor did she want to give Phillip any reason to doubt her plan.

  He was here somewhere, having insisted on accompanying the women through the picket lines. She suspected this was mostly an effort on his part not to let her out of his sight. He hadn’t wanted her to participate today, preferring instead to keep her far away from the chaos, but she had remained firm. This was her fight as much as his.

  Perhaps more so.

  Once through the gates of the construction site, she led the group to one side. All told, there were about seventy-five women. Some stared at the big machinery nervously, while others eyed it with an eager gleam. The men continued to chant and yell on the other side of the fence, so Eva raised her voice. “Thank you all for coming. Most of what we’re doing today is digging and hauling dirt. Take breaks as necessary and drink adequate amounts of water. Anyone have experience with a steam shovel?”

  One woman’s hand went up. “I do, miss,” she called out. “Drove one nearly like it on my father’s farm.”

  Eva pointed to her. “You’re up there, then. Anyone else?” No one raised their hand, so she let it go for now. Perhaps they could teach someone else at some point.

  “I’ll take another one,” Carew said, now at Eva’s elbow. She hadn’t seen him yet this morning and hadn’t known if the engineer would approve of this plan.

  She smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Alfred.”

  He ducked his head, almost embarrassed, and started for the far side of the excavation, where another steam shovel awaited. Eva quickly put the women to work. None complained, all eager to earn a decent day’s wage. Spirits were high, even in the hot sun.

  Phillip hardly stopped moving. Throughout the day, he talked with groups of women, demonstrated the safest way to accomplish a task—even helped haul dirt on the ladders at one point. The women seemed to like him, their grins wider, posture a bit straighter when he was near. One woman fanned herself when he turned away.

  Eva well understood the feeling. The man was too handsome by half.

  This also allows everyone to see that I am yours.

  Hers. She quite liked the sound of that. A lot, in fact.

  It was a lost cause. She had officially fallen for Phillip Mansfield.

  The idea settled in, her chest filling with happiness and possibility, with none of her usual panic. By the way he kept stealing glances at her today, giving her secret, knowing smiles, she suspected he might feel the same.

  Could her luck finally be turning after all?

  As the sun lowered in the sky, shadows lengthened around the surrounding buildings, stripes of burnt orange over the ground. Eva was explaining to a small number of workers how the foundation would soon be poured, the metal framing that would shore up the skyscraper, when four men walked through the main gate. Mr. Milliken and three men she recognized as union representatives.

  Excusing herself from the ladies, Eva approached them. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Have you come to check on today’s progress? As you can see, the new workers are quite competent.”

  Milliken said nothing, merely stared down his crooked nose at her. One of the men stuck his hand out. “Miss Ashford, I am Mr. John Debs, head of the union for the workers outside. Perhaps you and Mr. Mansfield would be willing to meet with us.”

  Giddiness fluttered in her chest, though she tried not to show any reaction. This was better than she’d even hoped for. The union was already caving, ready to come to the bargaining table to hammer out the issues. The idea of women stealing their jobs must have been the slap in the face she’d intended. “When?”

  “Two hours? We�
��ll meet you at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”

  “I shall ensure Mr. Mansfield and I arrive on time.”

  Debs nodded and then led the group back out of the construction site. She could still hear the noise from the men on the other side of the gate. Would they all return home now, or wait to yell at the women on their way out?

  She assumed the latter.

  “Was that Debs?” Phillip arrived at her side slightly out of breath. “What did he say?”

  “They want to meet with us in two hours’ time at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I think they are ready to negotiate.”

  Phillip’s brow wrinkled. “What makes you think that? Did he say anything about a negotiation?”

  “No, but he said they wanted to meet with you and me.”

  He stroked his jaw thoughtfully and stared off into the distance.

  She said, “I thought you’d be happier about it. It means this is over.”

  “Means nothing of the sort. If they were ready to discuss terms, then why not include attorneys? They know Tripp will handle the contracts.”

  “Maybe they assume you and I are capable. That lawyers aren’t necessary.”

  He gave a noncommittal sound. “I still wish to invite Tripp. What time are we sending the women home?”

  “Best to do it now, while it’s light outside. Many have a long journey ahead of them.”

  Reaching out, he swept blunt fingertips over her jaw. “I don’t know how you accomplished this in such a short amount of time, but you have my thanks.”

  Warmth settled in her veins in a rush of tender affection. She adored this man. “We’re all eager to get Milliken’s crew working again. But perhaps you’ll pay the women extra? I had promised them at least two days’ wages.”

  “I’ll make good on that promise. I’m a man of my word.” His dark gaze sparkled, the clear reference to their courting bargain not lost on her. “I’ll find Carew and the Pinkertons. We’ll set up a table, pay the women, and then load them into the wagons.”

  “Excellent.” She beamed up at him. “I’ll round them up.”

  The Fifth Avenue Hotel loomed across from Madison Square Park, its plain Italianate brick façade stretching across the entire block. The outside was large and handsome, but by no means beautiful or whimsical. Boring was the word that came to Phillip’s mind.

  He knew his new hotel would easily outshine this one, with his offering unprecedented luxury and grandeur—both inside and out. He had E. M. Hyde to thank for that.

  While Eva had worked magic on an all-female crew, Phillip had been seeing to Becca, securing her passage on a transatlantic steamship. He’d instructed Lord & Taylor to deliver a month’s worth of dresses and personal items for both women to the ship, and he’d provided money to get them started in Europe as well as a place to stay. The Mansfields owned a house in the French countryside and he’d given Becca leave to use it until the two women found their own home.

  No word from her father yet, but Phillip expected a visit imminently.

  One problem at a time, he told himself.

  The carriage stopped. He alighted then assisted Eva down. Her gloved hand curled around his fingers, the contact burning straight through him. He was looking forward to the conclusion of this meeting, after which he planned to steal her away—

  “Exactly on time,” he heard Frank Tripp say from behind him.

  Tucking Eva close, he regarded his attorney. “Thank you for coming. I hope to put all this to rest tonight.”

  “I bet. How did your stunt go over today?” He glanced from Eva to Phillip. “Any riots break out?”

  “No riots,” Eva answered with a lift of her shoulder. “Merely rocks and insults. Nothing we couldn’t handle. The men seemed quite unhappy, however, so I am hopeful the union will be ready to negotiate.”

  “Suppose we’ll find out in a minute.” Tripp’s arm swept out. “After you.”

  Under the portico, they strolled through the front door. At a small desk, he found an attendant and introduced himself. “Yes, Mr. Mansfield. I’ve been instructed to bring you this way.”

  The three fell into line behind the attendant, and Phillip assumed they would be led into the dining room. Instead, they were shown through one of the common areas to a broad, private corridor with two sofas positioned adjacent to one another at the corner. Three men sat waiting, one of who was Milliken.

  “Ho, the Amen Corner,” Tripp muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Eva asked softly.

  Phillip leaned down. “It’s said every big deal in the city is concluded in this spot. One must come to the city’s political powers and get an ‘amen’ on your project—or it won’t go through.”

  “So that’s good for us, right?”

  Phillip couldn’t say. Meeting here, instead of over drinks or dinner, did not lend itself to an air of relaxation or lingering. The union reps expected the meeting to be short . . . but why?

  He tightened his hold on Eva’s hand where it rested on his arm. Whatever happened, he would not back down. As the architect’s representative, she had the right to inspect the work done on the site.

  Even still, he’d cabled E. M. Hyde again yesterday. The sooner the architect arrived, the better.

  The other gentlemen stood, hands extended. Everyone was quickly introduced, the two union reps all smiles, while Milliken wore his usual sullen expression. Phillip, Eva, and Tripp sat on one sofa with Debs, Gray, and Milliken on the other. The configuration was intimate, the sofa edges nearly touching in the corner.

  “Thank you for coming down to meet with us tonight,” Debs said. “Quite a spectacular stunt you pulled off today.”

  Phillip lifted a shoulder. “We found a group of workers eager to earn a day’s pay rather than stand about complaining. And the women will return as many days as we need them, if the men refuse to work.”

  Debs held up his palms. “Now, no one is refusing anything. Our men simply want a safe, respectable space in which to labor. Hardly seems a lot to ask for.”

  “It is when my architect’s representative is no longer allowed on the property.”

  “Yes, let’s speak of your architect and his representative. Mr. Gray?”

  Phillip braced himself. Had they learned Eva’s true identity? If so, did they hope he would fire her? More fool them, as he’d been aware of her connection to E. M. Hyde almost since they’d disembarked.

  The other union official opened a satchel and began withdrawing papers. “Are you aware of Miss Ashford’s background?”

  Eva bristled beside him. “I hardly see how this is—”

  “Tell me, what is her background?” Phillip remained calm. If this was the worst of it, then they’d have a resolution in minutes.

  “Well, for starters,” Gray said, holding out a piece of paper, “her name is not Ashford at all. She’s actually the daughter of E. M. Hyde, Lord Cassell. A real English lady.”

  Phillip didn’t even bother reading the paper. “If you were hoping to surprise me, I’m afraid to disappoint you. I’ve known Lady Eva’s identity from the beginning.”

  The men gave no outward reaction. “We suspected you might,” Gray said. “There are so many rumors going around, it is hard to keep them all straight.”

  Rumors? About what, exactly? Phillip wasn’t certain, but he suspected this was a thinly veiled reference to the affair. His fingers curled into fists. If someone dared allude to anything improper . . .

  “More important is the information we discovered on her father,” Debs said.

  He frowned. This he hadn’t expected. “What about E. M. Hyde?”

  Gray removed more papers from the satchel. “We have signed affidavits here from the physicians that have been caring for his lordship in London.” He presented a set. “E. M. Hyde is incapacitated. Alive, but incapacitated. Completely unable to work and has been for some time. Some say for at least sixteen months.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The news hit Phillip like a punch to the j
aw. “Sorry, incapacitated?”

  “You had no right to look into my father’s affairs,” Eva snapped to the union representatives. “And I doubt the validity of those affidavits.”

  “They are quite legal, my lady,” Debs drawled. “Perhaps Mr. Tripp would care to verify them?”

  Gray handed Tripp the packet of papers while Phillip tried to get a handle on the conversation. Eva’s father . . . unable to work? And for the past sixteen months?

  No, that made no sense whatsoever.

  They had to be mistaken. If Hyde were incapacitated, then whom had he been dealing with this entire time? “You are wrong,” he told the other men. “I have correspondence. Furthermore, I have his signature on the contract as well as on the plans approved by the city.”

  “Clear forgeries, most likely by the woman who has presented her work as his own for almost two years now.”

  “Presented her work as his?” He chuckled and shook his head. “She would not do such a dishonorable thing.”

  When no one else joined in, his amusement quickly faded. Eva remained mute, her lips pressed tightly, and a sense of foreboding crawled along his spine. Why wasn’t she disputing these outlandish allegations?

  “These look completely legal to me,” Tripp said, handing Phillip the affidavits. “Perhaps they are telling the truth.”

  “This cannot be the truth. If it is . . .” He shifted to better see her, his throat tight with dread and confusion. “If this is true then you drew up the plans for the hotel and passed them off as your father’s.”

  Eva shot to her feet, a murderous gaze fixed on the union representatives. “You did not come here with any intention to negotiate. You merely wished to stir the hornet’s nest.”

  Debs raised his hands, placating. “We merely thought everyone ought to have the same information when we sit down to resolve this strike. You cannot blame us for that.”

  “This meeting is over,” Phillip snarled, his voice laced with menace. The world had just gone topsy-turvy on him and he required a minute to think this through. Debs and Gray would need to gloat elsewhere. “We’re done for today.”