A Scandalous Deal

by Joanna Shupe

  Everyone stood, except him. Tripp led the union representatives out of the corridor, Milliken silently trailing behind. Eva took a step away from the sofa, as if she planned to leave.

  “Do not even think about it. You owe me answers,” he said, his attention squarely on the carpet. His stomach roiled with a heavy weight he’d never thought to experience ever again. Goddamn it. Why hadn’t he insisted on meeting with E. M. Hyde in person? If he’d pushed harder then he would have discovered the truth.

  How easily he’d believed her lies. Dazzled by her beauty and fire, he hadn’t even questioned them. She must have laughed quite heartily at him, at how stupidly he’d behaved.

  Jaw tight, he tilted his head and fixed her with a stare. “Well?”

  “I was going to tell you.” She folded her hands in front of her, fingers knotted until the knuckles turned white. Apprehension?

  Apprehension she’d been caught, no doubt.

  “When, exactly, were you going to tell me? After I put his name on the cornerstone?”

  “I know you won’t believe this, but I had planned to tell you tonight.”

  He crossed his legs and brushed imaginary lint from his trousers, struggling to gain control over his emotions. “You’re right. I don’t believe you. You’ve had ample opportunity for weeks to tell me and yet you chose to keep it a secret. Indeed, why ruin a good thing by letting me in on your swindle?”

  “This was not a swindle. I did not lie to you out of malice. My intentions were good—and you loved the designs I presented you with.”

  “Designs drawn by your own hand.” He needed to hear her say it.

  She straightened her shoulders, standing taller. “Yes. I sketched the entire thing.”

  “And put his name on it. Tell me, how long has it been since he’s been able to work?”

  “Twenty-two months since he’s drawn or sketched anything useful.”

  Right before Phillip had reached out to offer the hotel project.

  Christ. What a fucking mess. His skin felt as if it were on fire, the anger a living, breathing storm barely contained inside him. This was far worse than what Caroline had done to him. Eva had not only humiliated him, she’d taken this project—the hotel to bear his name and serve as his legacy—and ruined it. He’d never be able to step inside it without remembering this awful feeling.

  Betrayal.

  That was all he could see, taste, and smell right now.

  “But he grew increasingly forgetful a few years before that,” she added. “I do apologize for deceiving you, Phillip. It was wrong of me to do so. But I knew you’d never give me a chance if you knew the truth.”

  “You’re right. This was to be the only E. M. Hyde–designed hotel in America. You’ve stolen that appeal. No one will come to New York to stay in a hotel designed by Lady Eva Hyde.”

  “They’ll stay in the hotel because it’s the finest there is—regardless of the architect.”

  “You are wrong. Furthermore, not only have you robbed me of your father’s cachet, you’ve made me a laughingstock in my own city. Everyone will learn of how you duped me, the lies that you’ve told.”

  “Not if you don’t tell them.”

  Don’t tell them? His mouth fell open slightly. “If you think the union representatives will keep this secret, they absolutely will not. They’ve probably spread word to all the newspapers by now.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You could say you willingly hired me. That you were aware of my father’s condition and, knowing he could not design your hotel, asked me to do so instead.”

  “Even if I were so inclined to join in your parade of lies, it would be hard for anyone to believe that story when E. M. Hyde’s signature is all over the official paperwork.”

  “Not when my initials are also E. M. Hyde. Eva Margaret Hyde.”

  How convenient for her. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. While that solution might help him salvage a bit of his pride, it did not solve what upset him most: her lying to him.

  Hell, he’d wanted to court her. To marry her. And he hadn’t known a damn thing about her.

  Just like Caroline.

  Agitation drove him to his feet. His chest heaved, air bellowing in and out of his lungs, muscles clenched with the urge to hit something. “I need to know why. When you decided to take on the project in his stead and lie to me, tell me why you did it.”

  “We needed the money.”

  He stopped short. “That cannot be. Your father is one of the best-known architects in Europe. Additionally, I know what he’s been compensated for other jobs. I researched his income before making an offer. He’s exceedingly wealthy.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “No, he’s not. Over the years, he spent nearly as much as he made. All our remaining savings have gone to doctors and treatments. We are in dire straits. I have been accepting small jobs under his name just to keep us afloat.”

  If that were true, Hyde was an idiot. He’d been paid handsomely in the past twenty years. More than handsomely, in fact.

  And, while Phillip found the story sad, it did not excuse what she’d done. Not by a long shot.

  “And here I was, your goose laying golden eggs.”

  “I never thought that. I desperately wanted this job and worked incredibly hard on my designs. To imagine something so luxurious and timeless was a challenge and I did not want to disappoint you . . . or those familiar with my father’s style.”

  She had succeeded. The design definitely honored her father’s legacy, not that Phillip would admit it now. “Let’s not forget you had one other reason to lie. Passing your work off as your father’s conveniently allowed you to skirt your reputation.”

  She swallowed, but acknowledged the hit with a dip of her chin. “That’s true. It’s doubtful anyone would hire an architect dubbed Lady Unlucky.”

  Including Phillip. Damn it, he should’ve sent her packing the instant he learned of her identity. His gut had told him a woman in such a position of power was a mistake, yet he’d let their history and his desire dissuade him from firing her. Idiot.

  God knew the workers would never come back once they heard her moniker. They’d believe the worksite was cursed.

  He could hardly blame them. He was beginning to believe it himself.

  Eva took that opportunity to move closer. The hem of her dress brushed the top of his boot as she laid a hand on his arm—causing him to freeze. “Phillip, I know this is a shock and I deeply apologize for lying to you. I never meant to hurt you or the hotel.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her eyes widened in surprise and she opened her mouth to argue. He moved away and her hand slipped from his arm. “Oh, I believe you didn’t want to disrupt construction or affect the job you so desperately needed. But you didn’t give a damn about me. If you did, you wouldn’t have lied to me. No wonder you pretended to abhor marriage. I guess I should be grateful you didn’t trick me into marrying you as well.”

  “I did not pretend to abhor marriage. Everything I said was the truth. I have no intention of ever marrying and giving up my career.”

  “So sleeping with me was just a way of keeping the boss happy in case he discovered your secret? Christ, was anything between us real?”

  She sent a nervous glance down the corridor, presumably to ensure they were alone. He didn’t give a damn; he wanted answers. “That is not why I slept with you. Everything between us was—is—real. Utterly inconvenient and absolutely real. I’ve . . . fallen for you.”

  The declaration irritated him. He didn’t trust anything she said. She was angling to keep her position, no doubt. To not lose out on the chance to see her design realized. She’d say anything to placate him, wouldn’t she?

  And while she might not weep and cajole as Caroline had, Eva saw him as the means to an end . . . just like his former fiancée.

  Failure washed over him, like a thousand tiny stings, burning his insides. “Admit it. You knew who I was aboard the ship.
That’s why you followed me to the dining room, to start getting into my good graces in case I learned about your father.”

  She shifted back, hurt flashing over her face. “You know that is not true. I had no idea who you were on the ship.”

  “I wish I believed that. But I cannot tell what’s true anymore when it comes to you.” Tenderness no longer accompanied the memories of that night in his cabin. She had destroyed those as well.

  “Phillip—”

  “Stop, Eva. Just stop talking. I do not care to hear any more lies—”

  “I am not lying,” she protested. “Not any longer. You must believe me.”

  He could not take this. The desire to escape, to get far away, rushed through him. He needed time to sort through all of this and begin to fix the damage she’d caused. The work came first.

  Steeling himself, he snapped, “You are not to return to the construction site until further notice. I shall discuss my legal options with Tripp and how I might best proceed. You will hear from him as to my decision.”

  “Phillip, you cannot possibly—”

  “Wrong. I can do whatever I damn well please when it comes to saving this project. You’d do well to remember that.”

  He spun on his heel and departed Amen Corner, feeling anything but blessed.

  So much for trust. So much for equals.

  Eva struggled to retain her composure as she waited in Mrs. Mansfield’s reception room. Reminders of Phillip surrounded her, even here in Newport. Photographs, paintings, bric-a-brac . . . the great Mansfield legacy loomed large over Stoneacre’s every square inch.

  Eva hadn’t wallowed since yesterday’s disastrous meeting. Instead, she’d spent each waking minute on Mrs. Mansfield’s design, desperate for any task to take her mind off Phillip and the hotel.

  She should have told him the truth, of course. Hoping he wouldn’t discover her secret had been a risk from the moment she’d arrived in New York. And she didn’t blame him for being angry. Now she lived in constant fear of being discharged, awaiting the papers from Frank Tripp that would terminate their agreement.

  Stupid, but she’d never expected him to turn his back on her.

  I will discuss my legal options with Tripp . . . You will hear from him as to my decision.

  So he didn’t plan to ever speak to her again?

  A lump rose in her throat and she forced it down. Feeling sorry for herself solved nothing. Phillip would either forgive her or he wouldn’t. He would either take her to court or he wouldn’t. He would allow her back on the site or he wouldn’t. She couldn’t control any of that.

  The one thing she knew for certain? Their affair was over. For good. She had expressed her feelings, told him she’d come to care for him . . . and it hadn’t mattered to him. The timing hadn’t been perfect, but she meant those words, words she’d never spoken to another man in her life. And he hadn’t believed her.

  Now they were done. The ache in her heart felt a mile wide. Their last conversation played over and over in her head, compiling the hurt and the guilt. If only she’d done things differently . . .

  Mistakes last forever, her father had often said. That’s why you must get it right the first time.

  She’d always assumed he meant measurements, not relationships. Yet another mistake to add to the list.

  “Miss Ashford, this is quite a surprise.” Mrs. Mansfield swept into the room. “I am anxious to see what you have come up with.”

  Eva blew out a long breath, clutched her satchel tighter. “And I am anxious to show you.”

  A maid entered and set up tea while Mrs. Mansfield bade Eva to sit on the sofa. “Now,” she said as she poured, “why don’t you show me what you’ve done.”

  Clearing her throat, Eva accepted a cup and saucer from the older woman. No reason to beat around the bush. She might as well get right to it. “Before we get to the designs, there is something I need to share. My name is not truly Miss Ashford.”

  Mrs. Mansfield paused, her eyes rounding. “No?”

  “I am Lady Eva Hyde, the daughter of E. M. Hyde, Lord Cassell.”

  “Well.” Phillip’s mother sat back and sipped her tea. “I hadn’t expected that. I thought you were going to tell me you were unwilling to continue on the project.”

  “No, definitely not,” Eva rushed out. “That is, unless you cannot forgive my duplicity and would prefer to work with another architect.”

  “Goodness, no, though I am curious why you used a different name. Was it because of that Lady Unlucky nonsense?”

  “So you’ve heard.”

  “Of your deceased fiancés? Yes. Circumstances beyond your control from what I understand. Does my son know?”

  “Yes, he knows. When I arrived, he was reticent about allowing me to stay on in my father’s stead, so I suggested the secondary name to conceal my identity from the crew.”

  “Clever of you, though I am surprised Phillip bought into any of that superstition. He’s usually levelheaded, unless his temper is provoked.”

  Eva needed no reminders of Phillip’s temper. There had been enough demonstrations of that at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

  Now she had to confess the rest, lest Mrs. Mansfield find out from her son.

  “You should know he has removed me from the Mansfield Hotel project. The laborers have gone on strike, claiming my presence led to unsafe working conditions—”

  Forehead creased, Mrs. Mansfield set her cup and saucer down with a snap. “And Phillip sided with them? That hardly seems fair. I will speak with him immediately. He cannot possibly allow that to stand.”

  “With all due respect, he learned something else that upset him. You see, my father has been ill for some time. His mind is failing him. I have been accepting and carrying out jobs in his stead for the last two years.”

  “Oh, dear. That includes . . .”

  “Yes, that includes Phillip’s hotel. He was most unhappy to learn that the E. M. Hyde who designed the hotel was me, not my father.”

  The older woman’s gaze brimmed with sympathy. Eva found that puzzling. Shouldn’t Mrs. Mansfield side with her own son, instead of Eva? Based on the other woman’s unforgiving reputation, Eva half expected to be shown the door at this point.

  “My son hates to be deceived, especially by a woman. Harkens back to years ago, so try to not take it personally. He will come around, Lady Eva.”

  Unlikely. He’d stared at her with utter disgust—and with good reason. She had deceived him more than once. How could they both move forward after that? “Please, just Eva will do.”

  “Then you must call me Ellen.” The older woman smiled kindly. “Now, was there anything else I need to know before we get started?”

  “Then you’re still planning on moving forward with me?”

  Ellen rocked back slightly, as if surprised. “Of course, my dear. You’ve been forthright with me and I daresay I appreciate working with a woman. And if your work was able to fool my son into thinking you were E. M. Hyde, then you are quite talented indeed. I shall be proud to tell the world the new house was designed by Lady Eva Hyde.”

  A hot, stinging sensation started behind her eyes and Eva blinked rapidly. Relief flooded her, making her both weepy and incredibly grateful. She hadn’t realized how on edge she’d been, expecting to be sacked from this project, too. “Thank you,” she managed.

  “Oh, no thanks are necessary. Women do not have an easy time of it in our world, especially for those who possess a modicum of ambition. Any tiny amount of help I can lend is heartening. Incidentally, what do you plan to do about the hotel?”

  Eva lifted a shoulder. “Wait to hear from Phillip, I suppose. Or his attorney, Mr. Tripp.”

  The other woman dropped her pearls and reached for her teacup. “That almost sounds like giving up. While we do not know one another well, I have the impression that you don’t surrender easily. So, why now? Why not fight for what you want?”

  Because her heart was bruised right along with her pride. She had
n’t developed feelings for an employer before and the situation was all tangled up in her mind. Anger, regret, hurt . . . the combination was overwhelming. “I’m not certain our relationship can be salvaged.”

  The word slipped out before Eva thought better of it. Phillip’s mother showed no hint of surprise, however, her face a mask of cool reserve. “Anything may be salvaged if it is valuable enough. If this is something you want, then take matters into your own hands and make it happen.”

  Did she mean with Phillip or the hotel job? “Resolve the strike myself, you mean?”

  “If that is what it takes to set things right. Tell me, why are they striking?”

  “The union claims my presence causes an unsafe working environment. They want a man to take my place.”

  “For heaven’s sake, men are so confusing. They respect their mothers and daughters, sisters and grandmothers. But any other woman is unqualified and unworthy. It makes no sense. Are we not all someone’s mother or daughter?”

  A valid point. Eva hadn’t ever looked at it that way. Doubtful the men had either. If only there was a way to confront them with this hypocrisy, to show how not all women were a danger . . .

  An idea came to her, one so insane that she almost discounted it. Then she considered it a bit longer, intrigued. After all, the union reps must have women in their lives, strong women who would not appreciate the claims behind the strike. Women who might side with Eva. Hope blossomed in her chest for the first time in days, though it had nothing to do with Phillip. Yes, she could take matters into her own hands. Why hadn’t she thought of this angle?

  “Even if I do resolve the strike,” she said carefully, “I am not certain your son will rehire me. And I’m not certain I deserve his forgiveness. I lied.”

  Mrs. Mansfield frowned and set her teacup down. “Eva, everyone deserves forgiveness if they are truly sorry. My son has always preferred to look ahead, never behind. You mustn’t let him. Force him to focus on the present.”

  Eva had no idea how to accomplish that. Perhaps if she could bust up the strike and get the project under way, he might reconsider her role on the project. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d had an hour ago.