Magnate (10 page)

“So that means . . .”

Will said nothing, letting the silence provide his answer. A ball of fear gathered steam inside her, the terror growing to engulf her like a giant cloud. “You wouldn't.”

“There is no choice. You will be ruined, Lizzie.
Ruined
. It'll be worse than being a divorcée, and you know how those women are treated. Do you want to leave New York and live abroad, in shame, for the rest of your life, like that Hayes girl a few years ago?”

Agatha Hayes had been an acquaintance of Lizzie's, an unmarried debutante who'd been rumored to be carrying on an affair with her coachman. Society had turned on Agatha quickly, and her parents had no choice but to squire her off to Rome. Lizzie didn't want to move to Rome . . . but she didn't want to marry Emmett Cavanaugh either.

“Living abroad wouldn't be so terrible,” she hedged.

Will let out a disbelieving sound. “If that is the way you feel, then why did you refuse that viscount sniffing around for a bride last year?” She didn't answer, and he continued, “Let me ask you, do you make a habit of going to dinner with single men, unaccompanied, and kissing them?”

“No!” Her spine straightened. “Absolutely not!”

“So I can only assume that you”—he grimaced—“feel something for Emmett Cavanaugh. Most marriages of our station are started with much less. Hell, you might even end up being the one woman who can break through to find out if the man has any feelings.”

“This is madness.” A hysterical giggle burned in her throat, and she rubbed her forehead with gloved fingers. This could not be happening.

“This is reality,” Will snapped. “Our world has very strict rules, and you cannot thumb your nose at them. You've seen such a small part of life outside ours, Lizzie, but it can be terribly harsh, especially for women. I will not have you struggle or suffer. You'll marry Cavanaugh, and that will be the end of it.”

The word “marry” echoed ominously in the enclosed space of the carriage. She did not want to marry Emmett Cavanaugh. She hardly knew him for one thing. He could be a philanderer. Abusive. An opium addict. Or any other manner of horrible and cruel traits undesirable in a husband.

Also, she had sworn to marry only for love. To have a man so besotted with her that he never strayed, never even glanced at another woman. Like the stories of her mother and father, the ones Will used to tell her late at night when she was too scared to sleep.

And though he caused her knees to go weak, a man like Emmett Cavanaugh would only bring heartache.

“What if I say no?”

Will heaved out a sigh. “Then we suffer the consequences. But Cavanaugh wants to marry you, Lizzie. Said so himself. Give him a chance to convince you.”

“Mr. Cavanaugh wants to marry me?” She couldn't believe it. He did not seem the marrying sort.

“Yes. Asked for your hand and everything. He's not my first choice—far from it—but I believe he'll make you happy. I've already agreed. It's done.”

“Will! How could you agree without even talking to me first?”

“Because I am your guardian and, like it or not, I have the right to make these decisions for you.”

“But . . .”

She couldn't even finish it. Having the choice taken away, not being able to decide her own fate, angered Lizzie more than anything else.

No, that wasn't fair. She'd never expected things to go this far. Hadn't thought anyone would discover them. She certainly had never considered a marriage would result. All she'd wanted was to open her own investment firm, she thought, rubbing her throbbing temples.

“Lizzie, your reputation is all you have. If you lose it, no one will even look you in the eye, let alone speak to you. You'll cease to exist to those in our circle.”

Sweet mercy, her brother was right. Any chance of luring the wealthy society matrons and respectable widows to invest with her would disappear if word of tonight's episode got out. A lump settled in her throat. Why had she been so stupid?

Perhaps she could talk Emmett out of an actual wedding. They could enjoy a long engagement and then call off the wedding before the ceremony. That made more sense. All they had to do was wait for the scandal to settle. Then they could cancel the wedding and go their separate ways, reputations intact.

A fine plan, she reasoned.

“I can see your thoughts turning,” Will said, her brother's shrewd gaze too knowing. “Give over, Lizzie. It's done.”

Wrong. This was far from done. But she bit her lip and kept her ideas to herself. Just like always.

* * *

The announcement appeared in the paper the following morning.

Dressed in a pale china-blue morning gown, Lizzie stirred her morning coffee, her mind swirling faster than the cream in her Limoges porcelain cup. This was her brother's doing, she knew it. She hadn't a clue how Will had managed the feat, but news of the impending nuptials graced the front page, shouting her misery to the world in stark black-and-white.

Lizzie rubbed her brow. Hadn't the idea only been discussed last night? She had hoped to find a way out of the situation before word became public. Today's paper certainly changed that. Not only would stopping the marriage prove more difficult, the news that she'd broken things off with Henry painted her like some man-hopping hussy.

And “thrilled at the match”? Will had hardly spoken to her on the ride home from Sherry's, depositing her at the front door before disappearing into his home office, clearly eager to begin ruining her life.

Just then, her brother walked into the breakfast room. Tall and confident, his blond hair was perfectly oiled, his dress immaculate. How could he appear so put together on a disastrous morning such as this?

“Good morning,” he said casually.

Lizzie tapped anxious fingers on the table while he pulled out a chair and sat down. A servant rushed over with coffee.

“Excellent. You've seen it.” He gestured to the paper. “I suppose you'll be besieged by callers today.”

Oh, dear heavens, she'd forgotten. Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose. No doubt the ladies of New York society were ordering the wheels of their coupés greased at this very moment. She would have to face them, if not today then soon.

“Why did this need to appear in the morning's paper? Can't I even have a moment to let the idea settle?”

Will turned to the footman by the wall. “Paul, give us a moment.” The servant withdrew, shutting the door behind him, and her brother leaned forward, his expression clouding. “This had to appear this morning because you chose to meet Cavanaugh in a private dining room, Lizzie. Someone knew about your dinner, someone who sent me there to find you. This is me, protecting you.” He stabbed a finger at the newspaper. “I had to rouse the publisher out of a . . . quite unsavory place last night just to have the page reset.”

Bitter, ugly feelings expanded in her chest until she could hardly contain them. It was all happening too fast. No one was listening to her, or taking into account what she wanted. This was not how she had imagined her engagement. “Maybe I am tired of your protecting me!” she snapped. “You never include me in decisions, at least not anymore. You do whatever you please, telling no one, and damn the consequences!”

His eyes rounded. “Did you just swear in our breakfast room?”

“Yes, I did. If ever a day required swearing, this is it. Maybe I'll never stop! Damn, damn,
damn
.”

A muscle jumped in Will's jaw. “I won't apologize for this. Not for any of it. I've done my best, but you've brought all this on yourself. You're Cavanaugh's problem now.” Will rose, gulped his coffee, and set his cup in the saucer with a snap. “And I wish him luck.”

Lizzie watched Will go, resisting the urge to call after him. She hated fighting with her brother, but she refused to roll over and allow others to decide her fate.
There has to be a way out of this,
she thought with another calculating glance at the paper.

Not long after, a noise in the hall caught her attention. She had just finished her breakfast when Edith Rutlidge strode into the breakfast room with Frederic, their butler, hot on her heels.

“I cannot believe it!” Edith declared at the same time that Frederic apologized for not announcing their guest.

“It's fine, Frederic. Edith, please sit.”

Edith sat while the footman arranged a clean place setting in front of her. When finished, he wisely quit the room.

Edith's eyes were wild and disbelieving. “You're getting
married?
To Emmett Cavanaugh? I . . . I'm speechless, Lizzie.”

Well, not exactly speechless, but Lizzie refrained from pointing that out. “We are engaged, yes,” she hedged.

Edith's gaze dipped to Lizzie's finger. “Then where is your ring?”

Oh. Lizzie hadn't thought of that. She twisted her hands together, hiding her bare fingers. “It was only just decided last evening, which is why I didn't tell you.”

“The other night, that's who dropped you and Henry off at the house. It was Cavanaugh, wasn't it?”

“Yes.”

Edith slumped in the chair, her face as unhappy as Lizzie had ever seen. Guilt wormed its way under Lizzie's ribs to clench her heart. She didn't like hurting Edith's feelings, but she was not ready to discuss the true nature of her engagement to Emmett Cavanaugh.

“I didn't even know you two were acquainted. He's so . . .”

Large? Handsome? Intense?
There were a hundred ways to finish that sentence, but they were not here to discuss Cavanaugh's strengths and weaknesses. “Edith, I realize this is a shock. The whole business caught me by surprise as well.”

Edith studied Lizzie's face. “Caught you by surprise, in a good way? What I mean is, did he sweep you off your feet?”

Lizzie swallowed the rest of her coffee, which had turned cold. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You're not telling me much. I'm supposed to be your closest friend. Henry is hurt by this,” she said, gesturing to the paper. “You should have seen his face this morning. And you cannot even tell me how Cavanaugh convinced you to marry him?”

“You are my closest friend, and I'm sorry for not being forthcoming. I'm still . . . reeling.”

“Do you love him?”

That question nearly made Lizzie laugh, but she restrained herself. Love him? She barely knew him. “Hard to say. It's all been so sudden.”

Edith huffed. “You have maintained for years you'll never marry except for love. And now you're saying you are not in love with your betrothed? This makes no sense.”

“You need to take my word for it,” Lizzie said sharply. She did not want to argue with her friend, but Edith needed to stop peppering her with so many questions.

Frederic appeared, a silver salver in hand. One lone card rested on the surface, and Lizzie picked it up. When she saw the name, her stomach fell. Why was he paying her a call?

“What? Who is it?” Edith reached over to pluck the card out of Lizzie's fingers before Lizzie could stop her. “Oh, my heavens.”

Lizzie wanted to run upstairs and draw the covers over her head. Instead, she told Frederic, “Show him to the front receiving room, please.”

“I'm coming with you,” Edith declared. “I want to meet him.”

“No, absolutely not,” Lizzie said emphatically.

A determined set to her chin, Edith shot out of her chair and rushed from the breakfast room. Realizing what was happening, Lizzie hurried toward the front of the house. Her friend was faster, however, and by the time Lizzie arrived, Edith was boldly introducing herself to Emmett.

In a wool morning suit of light gray and white stripes, he appeared tall, sturdy, and impossibly handsome. If he was bothered by the news in today's paper, Lizzie couldn't tell from the way he politely greeted Edith.

“Good morning,” Lizzie said.

Emmett glanced up, his dark eyes slowly traveling the length of her before settling on her face. That intense scrutiny made her shiver, despite her best intentions to remain unaffected by him.

“Good morning, Miss Sloane. My apologies for the early call. I hadn't expected you to be entertaining.”

“That's my fault,” Edith said. “I couldn't help but come downtown as soon as I read the paper. It came as quite a surprise.”

To everyone,
Lizzie longed to add. She wanted to rip open the door and scream into Washington Square Park,
I have no intention of marrying him
.

Emmett gave Edith an inscrutable look. “To me as well, Miss Rutlidge,” he admitted. “But a pleasant surprise, indeed.”

Edith's expression softened, as if the statement had been a declaration of undying love. “Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. When I saw the announcement this morning, I feared the worst.”

“And what would the worst be?” he asked her.

“Lizzie has sworn to marry only for love—”

“Edith! That's enough. Mr. Cavanaugh is very busy, and we wouldn't want to delay him.”

Emmett cleared his throat. “I won't stay long. I wondered if we might have a word in private, Miss Sloane?”