A Daring Arrangement

by Joanna Shupe

  Not that Julius returned the sentiment.

  He wanted to seduce her, not marry her. Nora hadn’t yet sorted through her thoughts on that, which was why she’d remained a hermit for several days. Better to hide until she’d arrived at some conclusion regarding her future, her fake fiancé, and this new version of herself. No doubt her aunt and uncle thought something terribly wrong, but venturing into society with a smile on her face, when she was actually terribly confused, was beyond her at the moment.

  She’d received no word from Julius in that time, which had been fine with her. However, that silence had just ended today. His note had been brief:

  Take a hack to 10–12 Broad Street. I’ll meet you at there at 2:00 sharp. Wear black.

  Yours,

  Julius

  She had no idea what he planned and admittedly her curiosity was piqued. Such a mystery was likely the only thing that could’ve coaxed her out of the house, almost as if her fiancé had planned it.

  She wasted no time readying herself and slipping out of her uncle’s house under the pretense of a shopping trip. Now, as the hack pulled up to the requested corner, she saw she was across from the New York Stock Exchange. The Italian Renaissance-style building loomed large on the block. Why on earth was Julius bringing her here? Everyone knew women were not allowed inside the exchange.

  “Here you are, miss.” The driver opened her door and tipped his cap.

  She descended and then handed him the fare. “Thank you.”

  “Sure this is where you’re supposed to be?” he asked, indicating the all-male crowds hurrying about.

  “Yes, I think so. I’ll be fine.”

  Fascinated, she stepped closer to the men yelling and arguing on the walk. Some were even trading near the front of the building, shouting and waving slips of paper in the air. How could anyone follow this chaos?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the profile of a dark-haired figure through the crowd gathered by the stairs. The way he was standing, the worn brown bowler on his head, suddenly reminded her of Robert. She inhaled sharply and craned her neck, trying to see around the streaming bodies for a better look at his face, but there were too many people.

  “Hello, my lady,” a deep, familiar voice said in her ear.

  She spun to find Julius. Before she could say anything, he clasped her hand and began tugging her toward the building. “Wait, where are we going?”

  “Patience, my dear woman,” was all he said as they approached a door near the end of the façade.

  She rose up, walking on her toes to check the spot near the stairs where the man had been standing. No one was there. It couldn’t have been Robert. England is an expensive three-week sail away. Robert certainly can’t afford the passage. Her brain must’ve been playing tricks on her.

  After descending a short set of stairs, Julius knocked twice on the door and it swung open. Glancing up and down the street, he held the heavy metal door for her. “Quickly, now.”

  She slipped inside. An older man stood there, a worried look on his weathered face. “Ma’am.”

  “Appreciate this favor, Joe.” Julius slipped a few coins into the man’s hands. “Forget you ever saw us.”

  “No problem, Mr. Hatcher. No one’d believe me, no how.” Shaking his head, the man jerked a thumb at the corridor. “You’d best hurry. Won’t be able to keep those stairs closed forever.”

  “We will. Thanks again.”

  As they moved quickly down the hall, Nora could hear the old man muttering about “fool kid” and “pretty fiancée.” Just what was this about? Was this some sort of sordid adventure in the middle of the day? “Where—”

  He turned and put his finger to his lips. “No talking until I tell you.”

  She nodded and then allowed him to tug her up two flights of stairs. Were they inside the exchange? That would explain the secrecy. The possibility of seeing this male bastion in person had her heart racing.

  When they reached the top, he cracked another door and peered around it. He nodded once and then hustled her along another corridor, through a third door and into a large room. Empty chairs faced a curtained window, with a desk and telephone on the rear wall. She lifted up her hands as if to say, Now what?

  He turned the lock and then drew the shade down over the door, completely shielding them from prying eyes. “It’s safe to talk.”

  She wasted no time. “Where are we and what are we doing here?”

  A sly smile broke free on his handsome face. “To explain that I’ll need to switch off the lights.”

  “What?”

  He closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands. His palms were rough yet gentle, and the touch vibrated through her entire body. “Do you trust me?”

  Her mouth went dry at the tenderness in his eyes, so much sincerity reflected there that her stomach fluttered. Lying never occurred to her. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Good girl.” Taking her arm, he helped her to sit in one of the chairs. “Are you comfortable?”

  “As comfortable as one can be in a situation such as this. Get on with it, Julius.”

  Smirking, he strode to the switch on the wall and turned it. Blackness engulfed the room. She couldn’t see anything at all. A few seconds passed and then she heard his shoes on the carpet. “Here we go.”

  The curtains parted and bright light stung her eyes, causing her to squint. Blinking, she opened them again and discovered the interior of the exchange before her. The trading floor . . . Hordes of men pushed and shoved, screamed and cajoled, bits of paper flying everywhere. Her jaw fell open. It was like a circus, with so much to see every way she looked. The sight was nothing short of amazing.

  Julius lowered himself into the chair next to her. “What do you think?”

  “I . . . I cannot believe it. How is this possible? Won’t they see us?”

  He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “This is my permanent room in the exchange. No one will come in unless I allow it. And as long as we keep the lights off, the outside light prevents anyone from being able to see inside here.”

  “This is incredible.” She fixed her gaze on the small figures darting to and fro, caught up in the frenetic energy and pace of the trading day. What must it be like down there? “I know absolutely nothing about what is happening on the floor, but it’s fascinating.”

  “The exchange is basically a continuous auction, with those looking to buy and those looking to sell. Those men jostling around the posts down there are trading for investors not inside the building.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  He chuckled. “It is, if you know what you’re doing.”

  “My goodness. It’s absolute Bedlam. Have you ever been on the floor?”

  “Yes.” The one-word answer caught her attention, a strange tension resonating in his voice. He shifted in his chair and did not meet her gaze.

  “You hated it.” It was perfectly obvious from the tense lines on his face. “Why?”

  “I don’t care for crowds.” He gestured to the melee below them. “Can you imagine having to fight in that every day?”

  She recalled the Haymarket, how rattled he had been when they escaped the brawl. His distaste for crowds must have played a part in the extreme reaction. “Why don’t you care for crowds?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, his strong profile rigid and unforgiving. She did not think he’d answer, he kept quiet so long, but he finally spoke. “I was thirteen during the Panic of ’73. I saw buildings destroyed, men stabbed in the street. Mobs taking it upon themselves to steal what they wanted with no regard for common decency or the laws. Police would arrive with brickbats and horses, trampling and whipping through the crowds. Even peaceful demonstrations turned bloody.”

  “That’s when your father lost his money.”

  “Yes, but the riots went on for years. No one could find jobs, and food was scarce.”

  “It must have been terrible.” Especially fo
r a young boy who’d just lost his father. “Were you or your family ever in danger from the mobs?” He flinched and she knew she’d guessed it. “What happened?”

  He cleared his throat. “There was a demonstration one morning at the exchange. I was fourteen, working as a pad shover, running between the offices and the traders on the floor. My closest friend was Andrew, another messenger like me. At sixteen, he’d been somewhat of a mentor, showing me how things worked when I was first hired. We were inseparable. I even spent holidays with his family, since my own was a nightmare of grief and unhappiness at the time.” He rubbed his jaw, eyes unfocused as he stared down at the trading floor. “Anyway, this demonstration was just a bunch of workers who couldn’t find jobs, protesting the fat cats of Wall Street. It would’ve remained peaceful if the police hadn’t shown up.”

  Foreboding settled in Nora’s chest. She touched his arm. “Julius, you don’t have to—”

  “No, you asked so I’ll tell you. They came on horseback, the police. Swinging clubs and ordering the men to disperse. Andrew and I tried to push through but the crowds were too deep and we were swept along with the demonstrators. He kept telling me to head toward the exchange but . . . I was scared of the horses. It sounds so ridiculous now, but then . . .”

  “You were a boy,” she said softly. “It’s not ridiculous at all.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and lifted a shoulder. “I suppose, but if I hadn’t been so scared we both could’ve escaped. Instead, I froze, standing in the street, unable to move, and Andrew had to come after me. I saw him trampled to death not even three feet from my face. Crushed under a stampede of hooves and boot heels.”

  “Oh, Julius. I’m so sorry.”

  “Somehow I started moving, probably terrified I’d suffer the same fate if I didn’t do something. So I darted and ran to a small cellarway and hid. Like a coward.”

  “Surviving by any means necessary is not cowardly.” She touched his arm. “You were caught in an impossible situation as a small child. What else could you possibly have done?”

  The darkness in his expression didn’t change and she knew this tragedy had shaped much of the man he was today. He carried the guilt and shame, as well as the fear, deep in his soul. “That’s why you built that huge house away from the more crowded portion of Fifth Avenue, as a way to protect yourself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I saw a castle just like it during a visit to France and had the money to build one here.”

  Maybe not, but there was some truth to his choice in a home. An impenetrable stronghold to keep him apart from the chaos of the city. A refuge. A strange ache settled behind her heart, and she steeled herself against the rush of emotion. The glimpse of vulnerability in his expression could have her falling in love with him . . . and that would never do.

  Would never do at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  To Julius, the inside of the exchange resembled a church, with its gothic arches, smooth stone, and high windows. Fitting, as this was as close to a place of worship as he ever got. He didn’t believe in a god—but he did believe in a fair and free market.

  Trading posts capped with signs were erected at various points on the floor for the high-demand stocks, allowing them to be located and traded easily. The most popular spot this afternoon seemed to be oil, probably due to yesterday’s rumors of an antitrust act coming this summer. Julius had heard this news six weeks ago, which was when he sold his oil stock for an unbelievable profit.

  Focusing on the floor meant he didn’t need to ruminate on Nora’s perceptiveness. He didn’t care for the way she seemed to look right through him, stripped him to see past the layers he’d created over the years to protect himself. He’d much rather solve the puzzle that comprised the fascinating woman sitting beside him than be picked apart and solved by her.

  He couldn’t believe he’d confessed that story about Andrew. That was a lockbox he hadn’t opened in a long time, a painful memory he preferred to keep buried. Yet Nora had asked and he’d promised to never lie to her. She’d been quiet for the last ten minutes and he hoped his revelation hadn’t ruined their day.

  “Do you have a man down there completing your trades?” She leaned toward the window slightly, not enough to be seen but in a subtle attempt to peer closer at the faces.

  He latched on to the topic gratefully. “I have a few, actually. One is over there by the tall post marked ‘silver.’ Another is over by coal.” There were others from his chosen investment firm as well. His trades were executed with marked efficiency, a perk of being the top client.

  “How can you possibly see them in that crush of bodies?”

  “I knew where to start, based on what I wanted them to watch today. We’ve been keeping a close eye on both silver and coal this week.”

  She continued to study the proceedings, her brow wrinkled in concentration. She appeared to be enjoying herself on this adventure, thank God. “I’m trying to imagine how much money is being earned and lost out there today.”

  He checked the board. Fairly moderate day thus far. “No big drops or gains today. Everything seems to be holding steady.”

  “Even still, the buying and selling . . . There’s so much at risk.”

  “Not really.” He shrugged. “Stocks are meant to be an investment. If you think only in the short term you’re bound to lose money.”

  “I suppose. It’s all fairly confusing to me.”

  Angling closer to her side, he gestured to the trading floor. “So if you had to buy one stock right now, one business or commodity you thought would rise in price, which one would it be?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to say what I might do if I were participating.”

  “So let’s take away the hypothetical. I’ll give you the money to buy one hundred shares of any one stock right now.”

  “Julius, that’s foolish. I’m not well informed enough to do that.”

  “Nonsense. You are intelligent. Make your choice.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “Why?”

  Because I like to see you happy. Because I am grateful you came this afternoon. Because you’re so beautiful my teeth ache with wanting you.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Why not? It’ll keep the day interesting. Besides, what’s the fun in coming to the exchange and not seeing your trade completed on the floor?”

  He could tell by the way she stared at the chaos below them, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth, that she was considering it. “Come now, Nora. What do you have to lose?”

  “Your money.”

  “I can well afford it. Go on. Give us a stock.”

  She took her time, watching and thinking. He appreciated that. Habitually impetuous, she was the type to rush into decisions, such as seeking him out at Sherry’s that first night. But she considered this one for several long minutes. “Consolidated Gas Company.”

  Without asking for an explanation, he stood and went to the phone on the desk. He put in a call directly to the firm’s contact on the trading floor. A voice answered and Julius gave the order, then placed the receiver back in the cradle. “See him there”—he pointed the man out to Nora as he retook his seat—“the tall one hurrying with that piece of paper?”

  They watched as the messenger delivered the paper to one of Julius’s men on the floor. The man read the note and then ran through the fluttering paper and bodies toward the area where gas and electric were traded. Pushing into the circle, he fought to get the auctioneer’s attention. It didn’t take long, probably because everyone knew this was one of Julius’s traders and they wished to hear what he was buying. The auctioneer nodded and wrote down the order.

  “There you go. One hundred shares of Consolidated Gas are yours.”

  “That is it? We’re done?”

  “Yes, with the purchase.” He pointed at the big board on the wall. “Now you only need watch the numbers to see if the value goes up or down.”

  Activity around the C
onsolidated post picked up as other traders came over. The investors were obviously wondering why Julius had purchased the flat utility stock and ordering their traders to do the same. He nearly smiled. The more purchases made, the less supply in the market and Nora’s one hundred shares would quickly become more valuable.

  She glanced over at him. “Are you not curious why I picked that stock?”

  “I’ve learned not to ask questions where you are involved,” he teased, lifting his arms and linking his hands behind his head.

  She elbowed his side playfully. “There’s no need to be rude.” She was genuinely grinning, happier than he’d seen her in a long time. She seemed relaxed, less . . . conflicted. What had changed? Dared he hope that she had resigned herself to his seduction?

  “I’ll tell you anyway. Lent is approaching,” she said. “If New Yorkers are anything like the British, then people will remain indoors more often. Less gadding about the city and visiting.”

  That was a damned fine observation. He frowned and wondered if he’d ever noted as much in any of his projections for the spring.

  She let out a mock gasp, her hand on her heart. “Have I impressed the great Julius Hatcher, king of Wall Street?”

  “Actually, you have.” He searched her face, so lovely even in the near dark. “And I’m hardly the king. More like a highwayman, out to steal what I can from under their uninformed noses.”

  “Why did you bring me here this afternoon?”

  The sudden question caught him off guard. Their eyes caught and held, and Julius found himself unable to look away. The room was quiet, protected from the roar of the trading floor below them, and a rush of desire swept through him. A fierce longing that was never far each time he saw her. “Because you crave excitement and scandal, and I realized this would solve both requirements while keeping you safe.”