A Daring Arrangement

by Joanna Shupe

  “Hello, Julius.”

  His head snapped over at the sound of the feminine voice and he saw a well-endowed brunette sitting at the small table. Oh, Christ.

  A beautiful and talented woman, Poppy Desmond drew eyes wherever she went. Julius had been quite fond of her but never intended for anything more between them, as there was no wife or family in his future and she’d never give up her acting career. So while he wasn’t furious that she’d lured him here, he wasn’t thrilled, either.

  Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he wandered closer. “So that telegram from Tripp inviting me tonight was really from you? Or is this just some astounding coincidence?”

  She ducked her head and bit her lip in a familiar, practiced move. He found himself annoyed by it. “I apologize for deceiving you. I wasn’t certain you’d come otherwise.”

  “You are correct. I wouldn’t have—not after that stunt you pulled at the Haymarket.”

  “But that’s why I had to see you. I needed to apologize.”

  “Which you did in a note. Twice.” He placed his hands on a chair back and leaned forward. “But you didn’t explain why you did it in the first place.”

  “Please, won’t you sit? Let’s have dinner.”

  “Dinner? Are you serious?”

  “Of course.” She gestured to the chair. “Please, Julius. As friends?”

  Sighing, he pulled out the chair and sat. There was no good reason to refuse, not if they were here as friends. He didn’t hate Poppy, not by a mile. She could be intelligent and witty, and he was hungry. So as long as they were here . . .

  “Thank you,” she said as he settled himself. “Now, was that so hard?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “What are we drinking?”

  “I ordered a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.” She reached for a bottle and poured the red liquid into his glass. “It’s your favorite. A French cabernet.”

  He lifted the glass for a long swallow as Poppy signaled to the waiter in the corner to start the dinner service. When they were alone, he asked, “How have you been?”

  “Well. Busy. And you?”

  “The same. I hear the show is a big success.” Her play was rumored to be sold out nearly every performance. Julius had seen it twice early on and Poppy was fantastic in the leading role.

  “Audiences do seem to enjoy it.”

  Silence descended and they both reached desperately for their wine. It had never been this awkward between them before. No idea why, but he felt . . . disloyal to Nora by being here. A strange sensation, as they weren’t truly engaged, but the back of his neck itched with the sudden urge to escape.

  He wished it were Nora here with him now. He’d like to seclude her in a private suite where he could feed her oysters, enjoy the sight of her licking the brine from her lips. Feel the press of her thigh to his as they shared a bottle of her favorite champagne. Perhaps he could even bribe the staff to leave them alone for a good long while so he could—

  Poppy gave a deep, throaty laugh, interrupting his musings. “This is harder than I thought.”

  “I don’t know why. We’ve done it hundreds of times before.”

  “You weren’t engaged to a duke’s daughter then.”

  “An earl’s daughter, and it’s not as if that is news to you.”

  “I know—and I’m happy for you. Truly. From what I saw the other night, she’s lovely and quite genuine. The flower was pure jealousy on my part.”

  “Poppy . . .”

  “I regret it now, believe me. Once I saw the violence I realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have thrown the flower at you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “It was a shock, seeing you there with her.” She gave a small chuckle. “It caught me off guard and I acted terribly. Forgive me?”

  “Forgiven. Let’s leave it in the past.”

  She relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Excellent. As always, you are nothing if not reasonable. Your calm intelligence was what attracted me most at first.”

  “And here I assumed it was all the bouquets of poppies I used to send backstage.”

  “Those certainly did not hurt, either.” Her eyes twinkled. “You were very determined.”

  “As others will undoubtedly be to win your favor now. Have you started seeing someone new?”

  “No one seriously, if that’s what you are asking. Why?”

  “Curiosity.” He took a sip of wine, the bold currant flavor rolling off his tongue and into his throat. “Peter Moore asked me about you the other night.”

  A brown brow shot up, her face tightening. “Asked you . . . about me? As if I am a prized steer on the auction block?”

  He held up his hands. “I am merely the messenger. He was interested to learn if we had severed ties, so I presumed he planned to throw in his lot with the rest of the eligible men in New York City to win your favor.”

  “He’s already tried—and failed. He’s too arrogant. Expects me to bow to his demands and be available whenever he wishes.” She sniffed and lifted her glass. “As if I am some society debutante, with no ambition of my own.” Her eyes flicked to his. “No disrespect to your fiancée.”

  “Lady Nora is anything but a biddable society debutante. Some days I think she’s been sent from the devil himself to torment me.”

  “I think I like this girl.”

  The waiter returned with the first course, oysters for him and petites marmites for her. Once the plates were arranged, the waiter withdrew.

  Poppy lifted her soup spoon and took a sip of the broth. “While I do enjoy seeing you, I did have a purpose for asking you here tonight.”

  “Ah. Allow me to guess? You need a favor.”

  She wiped her mouth with a linen napkin. “Yes, I do.”

  “It’s not stocks, is it?” Poppy never played the exchange.

  “No, it’s something else entirely. As you know, I abhor traveling. New York has been my home for so long and I do not wish to work anywhere else. But, despite our recent success, the theater where I am currently featured is closing. The owner lost his fortune at the racetrack, I’ve been told, and must shut the Athena Theater down.”

  He shook his head. Horses were a sucker’s bet. Too much human corruption and animal unpredictability. “A fool and his money . . .”

  “Yes, unfortunately. But there may be an alternative.”

  “Oh?” He slid an oyster in his mouth, the citrus and brine like heaven as he swallowed. “What’s that?”

  “I’d like you to buy the Athena and let me run it.”

  He coughed, nearly choking on his tongue. “Me? Buy a theater?” he wheezed.

  “Yes.” She angled toward him, still maintaining a respectable distance. “Why not you? You have the money and are savvy with investments. I know the theater business and would ensure it flourishes.”

  “I don’t care about the money, necessarily. I just hadn’t ever considered it.” He drummed his fingers on the table, running the possibilities. Theaters were risky and dependent on the strength of the economy. More importantly, they needed dedicated staff present to keep an eye on things. “Poppy, you have no experience in business. Are you prepared for long, grueling hours on your feet? Dealing with high-strung actors and unhappy patrons?”

  “I will hire the right people to do the managerial work. I plan to perform.”

  “How many weeks a year do you plan to be on stage?”

  “Are we negotiating?”

  “It appears so. I’m not investing in this venture for any reason other than you. If you have no intention of acting but a few weeks a year, the place will close in six months.”

  “Fine. Eight weeks a year.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Julius, that’s preposterous. I’ll be dead on my feet. Fifteen.”

  “Twenty, Poppy. Final offer.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. He wasn’t the least bit concerned. Poppy was well familiar with his s
tubbornness and he had no intention of backing down.

  “Fine.” She struck out her hand. “Twenty weeks a year for the first five years. I’ll cable you with the amount tomorrow.”

  He shook her hand. “Done. May we now enjoy our dinner in peace?”

  “Of course.” She picked up her spoon. “By the way, where are you hosting the masquerade this year?”

  Turning his wineglass on the white linen, he said, “There’s no masquerade this year.”

  “You’re . . . not hosting one? I cannot believe it. Why not?”

  He took a long swallow of wine, not keen on explaining. No one would understand his reluctance to cause a hullabaloo—and why would they when he’d relished creating them in the past?

  Poppy chuckled. “Goodness, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “And what day is that?” he asked tersely.

  “The day Julius Hatcher was brought to heel by a woman.”

  Chapter Ten

  Though there were three occupants inside it, the Cortland sitting room was as quiet as a church while Nora read the newspaper. When she finally put the newsprint aside, her tea had grown tepid. Probably for the best, seeing as how her stomach now churned with a riot of dark emotions. She placed the cup in the saucer and set it on the table.

  Her two new friends, Kathleen Appleton and Anne Elliot, had come to call bearing the unfortunate news from today’s Town Talk column:

  Mr. Julius H— and Miss D— were back on the town last evening for a private dinner in a suite at Delmonico’s. While it had been rumored the two had split since Mr. H—’s engagement, guests oversaw the two leave together afterwards.

  “You must be upset,” Kathleen said, her eyes full of worry. “I am so dreadfully sorry.”

  Yes, Nora was upset . . . but not for the reason her new friend assumed. She hated that Julius had met his former mistress for dinner and the papers had gleefully run the story the very next day—without even mentioning Nora’s name. This was precisely the sort of attention she needed, the reason she’d chosen Julius as her fiancé. She had begged him to help create a stir, to come up with a plan to get them noticed, and he’d refused. Instead, he dined with Miss Desmond and now the entire city knew. The sour heaviness in her stomach had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with the elusive notoriety escaping her grasp at every turn.

  Indeed, how could it be jealousy? She and Julius were friends locked in a mutual agreement, that was all. She liked him, of course. Who wouldn’t? The man was charming and intelligent. Handsome. And he treated her as an equal, not like an earl’s daughter. He disagreed with her and challenged her as no one else ever had. She appreciated that. Thoughts of him emerged more often these days, as she wondered what he would think about some such thing or another. She looked forward to seeing him, as she did all her friends.

  And if the idea of Julius and Miss Desmond together, laughing and touching, caused a sudden ache in her belly? Well, that was best ignored.

  “Oh, Nora.” Anne reached over to squeeze Nora’s arm. “I wouldn’t worry. You know how these things are. Many men like to have one last affair before marriage.”

  The engagement is not real. He owes you no fidelity. She drew in a breath and waved her hand. “I’m not worried. Julius and Miss Desmond are longtime friends. He is free to do as he pleases until the wedding.”

  Anne and Kathleen exchanged a look. “Of course there is no cause to worry. This is probably common in London,” Kathleen murmured. “We do tend to exaggerate here in America.”

  That last part was true. Americans were certainly a brash lot. For example, though still daytime, both her friends were draped in diamonds. New York women had no concept of reserving the sables and good jewels for the evening. They dressed extravagantly no matter the hour.

  But as far as the rest . . . A betrothed man engaging in a very public affair was not common in London. Undoubtedly it would be equally gossiped about there—if not more so.

  She lifted a shoulder, attempting to appear more casual than she felt. “I trust him. He has assured me his feelings for Miss Desmond are platonic and I believe him.”

  The young women stared at her as if she were delusional, which was precisely how Nora would stare at any friend of hers who said the same thing. When Nora’s placid expression did not waver, however, signs of resignation washed over the faces of her two new friends.

  “You are so devoted to each other,” Anne sighed. “It gives me hope about my future marriage.”

  “Has he tried to kiss you yet?” Kathleen asked, her voice laced with avid curiosity. “He does have a bit of a reputation.”

  Nora jerked in her seat and blinked stupidly. And here she’d believed nothing these two could say would surprise her.

  Anne sipped her tea. “Katie, stop it. You are embarrassing her. Of course Julius Hatcher hasn’t kissed her. She’s an earl’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. Kissing before marriage is quite scandalous.”

  “A shame,” Kathleen sighed. “I bet he’s excellent at it.”

  Her skin as hot as a burning ember, Nora resisted the urge to change the subject. Physical matters were never discussed in England, at least not between the few friends she had there. She’d been taught from birth to swallow any unsavory topic that might be misconstrued or land her in trouble. Because, as everyone knew, young girls were terrible gossips—

  She froze. Gossip was precisely what she needed to draw attention to herself. Her reputation would suffer, but at least the chatter might reach her father’s ears. How had she not thought of this before?

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she blurted, “Yes, he has—and he’s quite excellent at it.”

  “Wait, he did? Oh, I want every detail,” Anne said, slapping her saucer and cup on the table. “Spare nothing.”

  Kathleen was even more eager, reaching over to grab Nora’s arm and shaking it gently. “You must tell us all about it. When? Where? How long? Did he use his tongue?”

  Nora smoothed her skirts and tried to contain the devious grin attempting to break through. The gossip would spread all over New York City before nightfall. “Let’s see. It was at the Billingses’ ball. Outside in the gardens. I couldn’t say, but it felt like eons. And yes, tongue was involved.”

  Kathleen gaped. “That devil. I knew I liked Mr. Hatcher! Well done, Nora.”

  Anne did not appear so impressed as she faced her cousin. “So if he kissed Nora at the ball, why in the world was he dining with Miss Desmond last evening? And then leaving with that woman? I don’t care for it. Even if their relationship is strictly platonic, he should not be so cavalier with Nora’s feelings.”

  “Platonic friends may share dinner, Anne,” Kathleen said. “And perhaps he merely dropped her home afterward. Do not leap to outrageous conclusions.”

  “They are hardly outrageous,” the other girl countered with.

  Nora’s gaze bounced between the two young women, who currently conversed as if she weren’t even present. “I am certain Mr. Hatcher had his reasons for dining with his former paramour.” Reasons she would inquire about the very next time she saw him, which would be tonight. Would this outing finally be the one to land them in the gossip columns?

  She thought of poor Robert, patiently awaiting her in London. She must return as quickly as possible. Then Julius could return to his Miss Desmond and everyone would be happy once more.

  Nora figured she may as well come clean about the rest of it. After all, the more gossip, the better. “Have either of you visited the Haymarket?”

  “Goodness, no,” Kathleen said. “Our mothers would never approve of such a scandalous destination.”

  Anne, who had been stirring sugar into her porcelain cup, watched Nora’s face carefully. The silver spoon clattered onto her saucer. “Wait, are you saying you have been to the Haymarket, Nora?”

  “Yes. Julius took me there.”

  “The Haymarket?” Kathleen’s hand covered her mouth. “Wait, when? The dance hall,
right? We are talking about the same place?”

  Anne looked as if she were about to fall out of her seat. “He did? That is astonishing. What was it like?”

  “Yes! Spare no detail. Come, Nora. I must know exactly what it’s like inside.”

  Nora proceeded to tell them of her quick trip to the dance hall, complete with the risqué dress and the brawl. “We were only there fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes. Then Julius escorted me home.”

  Their jaws slack, both girls took a minute to let the story sink in. Kathleen recovered first. “Poppy Desmond is jealous of you.”

  “No,” Nora said, flicking her hand to dismiss the mere thought of the great Miss Desmond being jealous of her. “I think she likes the attention, Julius’s in particular. But she has no cause to be jealous of anyone, let alone me.”

  “You are marrying Julius,” Anne said. “Of course she’s jealous of you.”

  “And he fought to get you out safely,” Kathleen added with a sigh. “It’s so romantic. However did you convince him to take you?”

  “I asked.” No need to tell them of Robert and her plans to get summoned back to London. Those were for her and Julius alone. “He was reluctant but I convinced him. And, for the record, I saved him during that brawl.”

  “I cannot wait to become engaged,” Anne breathed. “That is when the real fun begins.”

  Kathleen beamed at Nora. “Dashed genius of you, Nora. I’m impressed. You found the one reformed cad in New York willing to take you to the spots the society men wouldn’t dare expose you to. Brava!”

  “You are my new hero, Lady Nora,” Anne said. “And don’t worry—Kathleen and I shall not breathe a word about this to anyone.”

  “Oh, I do not—”

  “Exactly,” Kathleen cut in to say. “We would never betray your trust by telling anyone about this. Society frowns on this sort of female independence. Which is absolutely ridiculous, but there it is. Never fear, we’ll keep your secrets safe.”

  “You’re too kind.” Literally. Were they telling the truth? Girls in London gossiped over every little detail, no matter how small, even if promises had been made to keep the news secret. She could only hope that Kathleen and Anne would tell someone and the news would soon spread down Fifth Avenue like wildfire.