Magnate (12 page)

And with that, the answer seemed clear. “What about the Sloane and Cavanaugh Investment Company?”

His mouth hitched into a half smile that curled her toes. Heavens, he was a handsome man. “I think I like Cavanaugh and Cavanaugh better.”

“But I'm not a Cavanaugh yet,” she teased.

“You will be. In a month, Miss Sloane.” Something in his dark gaze sparked, and a resulting heat rippled along her spine. As if someone had drawn in her corset, she suddenly could not take a deep breath. Was he thinking about kissing her again? Because she was most
definitely
thinking about kissing him again.

The moment stretched, their eyes locked, with the air coming in shorter and shorter supply. His fingers rose to gently tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Four weeks,” he repeated, this time in a low, husky register that slid under her skin to settle in the marrow of her bones. She leaned in, seeking more, but Emmett took a hasty step back.

Embarrassed, Lizzie turned to the window. What was it about this man that tempted her, caused her to act so recklessly? Clearly he was not as eager for her . . . though there had been something in his tone just now. Some edge of restraint and frustration. Or had that been her imagination?

He cleared his throat. “I should return you home. It will grow dark soon.”

She nodded, and he led her to the door. With one last hopeful look over her shoulder, Lizzie began to think that things might not turn out as badly as she had feared.

* * *

He'd nearly kissed her. Again.

As Emmett and Elizabeth rode back to Washington Square, he tried not to stare at her. Damned difficult, when he considered how appealing he found her—and not just her looks, either.

Though he'd never seen a more beautiful creature, there was much more to this woman than just her appearance. Her wit. Her intelligence. Her daring. She surprised him at every turn—and that should scare him shitless. He was not a man who enjoyed surprises.

Growing up on the streets of Five Points, every day had been unpredictable. Rival gangs, corrupt coppers, fights in the street . . . and at home. He'd never known what to expect there, whether his father would be drunk and his mother cowering in fear. Even finding food had been an undertaking, and some days there'd been none at all.

So when he'd started earning enough, he had fought to ensure there were no more surprises. He had assumed responsibility for his siblings. Acquired the best of everything. Trusted no one. Stuck to actresses because they were dependably single-minded, more concerned with their careers and his name than with monopolizing his time.

No, only the privileged liked surprises. When you lived in the gutter, a surprise could very well kill you. So why couldn't he get this woman off his mind?

“When do you think the office will be completed?” she asked, gaining his attention.

“Soon. I am having a private water closet installed for you. The materials will be delivered sometime in the next week. In the meantime, you should make all the cosmetic decisions with regards to the furniture and the paint colors.”

“It also needs a private space, one where ladies may visit discreetly, preferably with an entrance off the hall. Women may not feel comfortable discussing finances in the main office where anyone can overhear.”

He hadn't considered that. “Fine. I'll see it done.”

“Thank you. Have you owned the building a long time?”

“I bought the land little more than a year ago. I tore down the existing buildings and had this one constructed. They finished about two months ago.”

“And where were your offices before that?”

“Not far, on Broadway. But a smaller space.”

“What did my brother say to you the night he found us at Sherry's?”

Emmett blinked at the change in topic, his brain rapidly searching for an answer. He couldn't tell her the truth, of course, yet he hated lying to her. She deserved to know the depths her brother had sunk to in order to ensure this wedding, but Emmett couldn't say anything. Revealing Sloane's blackmail would destroy Claire and Katie's future.

Lies had never been a problem for him before, not until Elizabeth Sloane. The more he saw her, the harder the struggle to keep the truth buried. Moments ago, in her new office, her clear, slate-colored eyes had gazed up at him with such trust and hope . . . which only contrasted with the ugliness surrounding so much of his life. This woman deserved better.

He brushed imaginary lint off the arm of his overcoat. “He was angry. Understandably so.”

“Was there more fighting, then, after I left?”

“No. We argued, but in a civilized manner.”

She seemed to turn that over in her mind, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “You don't like my brother, do you?”

At least he could give her honesty there. “No, I don't.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.”

Of course they did. Who wouldn't love the Golden Boy, who'd been given everything on a polished silver platter? Emmett couldn't wait to see Sloane brought low.

“Your brother worries over appearances, what the other notables will think, whereas I could not care less about the opinions of others.”

“But you meet with him, and the others, every month. At the Knickerbocker Club.”

“That is business, not friendship.”

She shook her head, gaze fixed squarely ahead. “I don't know how you men do it. I could never go into business with someone I did not like.”

“Not true. You were prepared to go into business with me, and we hadn't even met.”

“Yes, but I thought you were a friend of my brother's. Which at least spoke somewhat to your character.”

“What, that I have terrible taste in friends?” he said dryly.

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Be serious, Emmett.”

God, he loved hearing his name on her lips. “I am always serious. You should know that by now.”

“Hardly,” she said with a huff. “My knowledge of you is appallingly scant.”

True, yet she would be surprised by how much of himself he'd revealed. Elizabeth knew more than any other woman of his acquaintance, certainly. Maintaining a distance had been easy with the rest, but Elizabeth had slid under his skin. Burrowed deep into his tissues, so that the mere thought of her caused his cock to harden. “Men are uncomplicated creatures, and you are a bright woman. I have no doubt you'll figure us all out in no time.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and he frowned. “What did I say?” Had he offended her somehow?

“No one has ever called me bright before,” she said, and his shoulders relaxed.

“Not even your brother?” She shook her head, and Emmett said, “Then he is a bigger fool than I thought.”

Elizabeth's head swung sharply, her stare locking with his. Emotion swirled in the gray mist of her pupils. “Thank you,” she said.

Warmth slid through his belly, a reminder of the desire that had simmered all day in her presence. The urge to kiss her resurfaced, stronger than ever. He considered leaning forward, touching his mouth to hers, drinking her in and teasing her until she gasped for breath. However, kissing her would not help her decide to call off the wedding, which was the only foreseeable way out of the mess her brother had created.

He shifted to the window and collected himself. Today had been a colossal mistake. In spending time with her, he'd only unearthed more guilt he did not need and failed in providing her with reasons to break the engagement. Not to mention driven himself half-crazy with desire. Why had he thought bringing her to Beaver Street a good idea?

Admit it,
he told himself.
You wished to see her again.
Christ, he was an idiot.

They rode in silence for the remainder of the journey, the awkwardness as thick as coal dust. As a distraction, he concentrated on everything he needed to do today, the hundreds of tasks awaiting him in his office. Important tasks that did not include one blond, silver-eyed former debutante.

When they arrived in Washington Square, he helped her down from the brougham. Kelly remained in the driver's seat, attending to the horses and thankfully quiet. The Sloane butler opened the door as they came up the steps, and so Emmett turned to bid her a polite good-bye.

“A moment, Frederic,” Elizabeth said to the butler, and Emmett's stomach sank. He'd hoped to escape without delay.

The butler disappeared behind the closed door to give them privacy, and she tilted her head. “I enjoyed today very much. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

She waited, not speaking, studying him, and he asked, “Was there anything else, Miss Sloane?”

“You once told me that you are not a nice man, but I think you're wrong. You're willing to marry me, and I don't truly understand why, but I am very grateful for all that you've undertaken for me.”

The tip of his tongue burned with the need to tell her the truth, to set her straight about both himself and the reason he was marrying her. By sheer force of will, however, he kept his mouth closed. With a dip of his chin in acknowledgment, he reached to rap on the front door. The panel swung open immediately, the butler emerging, and Emmett wasted no time. He spun on his heel and hurried to the walk, intent on climbing back in his carriage and getting the hell away from Washington Square.

There would be no more outings, he swore. No rides. No visits. No plump, berry-colored lips parted in breathless anticipation. The next time he saw her, if she did not call off the wedding first, would be at the altar of Grace Church.

Chapter Eight

An unbelievably large crowd had gathered inside Grace Church on a cold Wednesday in late February for the wedding.
Her
wedding
.

A hysterical laugh burned in Lizzie's throat, and she struggled to suppress it. Dressed in an eight-thousand-dollar wedding gown, she waited with her brother at the back of the church, the enormity of the moment nearly causing her to turn and run.

Four weeks had passed without a word from Emmett, her soon-to-be husband. During the whirlwind of planning and dress fittings, Lizzie hadn't allowed herself to dwell on his notable absence. But standing here, on the verge of pledging her troth to the man until death do they part, she couldn't help but wonder what he'd been doing in that time. What had been so pressing to keep him away? To prevent him from writing to her?

And she was
marrying
him. For mercy's sake, how could she walk down the aisle?

She thought of her investment firm, of her office on Beaver Street. The one dream she'd had for years. If she didn't go through with the wedding, she'd never succeed. If she were shrouded in scandal, failure would be guaranteed. Will had been right; she might not like society's rules, but she could not change them, not now.

Remember the man who took you to see your office,
she told herself. Emmett had been kind and solicitous on that trip. Respectful. Excited to show her the space he was readying for her. The fragile hope she'd clung to since then resurfaced, allowing her to take a deep breath. Perhaps this marriage would flourish in the end.

Edith appeared at Lizzie's side. “You look beautiful,” her friend said, and squeezed Lizzie's arm. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”

Lizzie shook out her gloved hands, trying to rid herself of the nerves. “Yes,” she said, though she didn't necessarily believe it. If there were another way out of this mess, she would've figured it out by now.

“Well, I will stand by you no matter what you decide,” Edith whispered seriously. “I still don't believe you want this marriage.”

“I have no choice. The deed is very nearly done.”

“It's not over until after the wedding night,” Edith said pointedly, then stepped back to her place in line as the maid of honor.

The mention of the wedding night sent panic through every part of Lizzie's body. She put a hand to her middle, took deep breaths, and willed her stomach to calm.

“Everything is going to be fine.” Will placed a large hand on the small of her back, steadying her. “Remember, Sloanes aren't quitters.”

She stared at her brother, so handsome in his gray morning coat and matching trousers. She needed his strength and reassurance, just as she had when she was a little girl. “Will, I don't know if I can do this.”

He grabbed her hand, his expression calm. “Lizzie, you have no choice. It's done. All you need to do is walk to the front of the church and repeat your vows.”

“I hardly know him.”

“You'll be fine. Cavanaugh takes his responsibilities seriously. He'll take care of you, as he's done with his brother and two younger sisters.”

“I don't want to be a responsibility,” she said, her voice rising.
I want him to love me,
she thought, even though such a thing would likely never happen. She might as well hope to be given a seat on the stock exchange.

“You know what I mean. He won't hurt you; I swear it. But you may always come to me, Lizzie. I'm here for you. No matter what happens with Cavanaugh, I'll support you in whatever you need.”

The organ music swelled, robbing her of the ability to answer. The bridesmaids and ushers started down the aisle. She closed her eyes and dragged in as much air as her corset allowed. The time had arrived.

She felt Will's arms go around her in a tight hug. “Lizzie, you're the smartest, bravest woman I know,” he said softly in her ear. “It's been my honor and privilege to see you grow up, to watch you evolve into the woman you've become. And I'm sorry that our parents are not here to see it as well. They would be just as proud of you as I am right now. I love you, runt.”

Tears welled, and she concentrated on not ruining Will's perfectly starched white shirt. She couldn't answer, so she hugged him back.

Will spoke to someone nearby, then said to her, “They're waiting for us.”

Exhaling, she pulled away from her brother and smoothed her cream satin gown. Trimmed simply with Duchesse-point lace, the gown was low on her neck with elbow-length sleeves. The train, sewn with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny pearls and edged with orange blossoms, opened to a jaw-dropping ninety inches. Lizzie had argued the garment too extravagant, but Will had insisted, saying, “Appearances must be maintained.”

He'd also instructed Lord & Taylor to spare no expense on her trousseau. Some of the lingerie had made her blush. To actually wear those pieces? Mortifying.

“It'll work out,” Will said quietly. He fluffed her tulle veil that was attached to a wreath of natural orange blossoms. “You shall see, Lizzie.”

Palms gone damp inside her gloves, she clutched her bouquet of white roses and lilies of the valley, and concentrated on not tripping as they started down the aisle. Familiar, curious gazes followed her path. Friends and acquaintances she'd known all her life, each one likely wondering why she was marrying Emmett Cavanaugh today. Not that she knew the answer.

A man stepped forward, and Lizzie's lungs seized, robbing her of breath.
Emmett
. A dove-colored tailcoat covered his broad shoulders, while a stark, white tie graced his throat. His hair had been oiled, highlighting his chiseled features, and his near-black stare focused only on her. Her stomach fluttered, his intense concentration both disarming and flattering. How could he, in a crowd of hundreds, make her feel like the only woman on earth?

He did not look hesitant or unhappy. He looked . . . proud. Confident. As if he had no misgivings whatsoever about what was taking place. But then, he usually appeared as such, like the world bowed to his whims, not the other way around.

Did he expect the same obedience from her?

He came down the few steps to meet her. Lizzie's panic flared once more, and her feet faltered. Will held steadfast, clutching her hand where it rested on his arm, to ensure she didn't fall on her face.

They stopped at the base of the stairs where Will bent to kiss her cheek. He uncurled her fingers from his forearm, and presented her to Emmett. She waited for some reaction, some hint as to what Emmett was thinking as he led her up the steps, but he'd become unreadable.

“Relax,” Emmett said for her ears alone. “You aren't being led to the gallows.”

She stiffened but, before she knew it, they were kneeling on the small bench, and the rector began speaking. The ceremony was short and to the point, though Lizzie would never remember it in the years to come. All she could think about was the large, enigmatic man at her side. Why was he doing this? Where had he been the last few weeks?

When they finished reciting the words binding them together, Lizzie was too numb to worry about what followed. So when Emmett lifted her veil, leaned in, and kissed her, she had no defenses in place. This was no mere brush of the lips, either. His mouth lingered on hers, warm and deliberate, the kiss embarrassingly thorough. Lizzie wasn't fooled; this was a show of possession in front of New York society. A way to prove they were truly married.

He finally pulled back, and she caught the burning fervor in his eyes, one she hadn't seen since the dinner at Sherry's. Before he turned her to the crowd, he put his lips near her ear. “You're mine.”

* * *

From across the ballroom, Emmett watched as his new wife wobbled slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes overly bright. All the signs were there, he thought, drumming his fingers on the table. He was certainly no teetotaler, but he did not wish for a drunken bride.

He signaled a waiter. “Please see that Mrs. Cavanaugh is not served any more champagne,” he said quietly. The waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowd to carry out the master of house's order.

Over three-hundred guests had crammed into Emmett's home for the reception, and no expense had been spared. The house was decorated completely in white, from the thousands of white roses on every surface to the white satin chair backs. White Limoges china and crystal goblets flown in from France. There were complicated ice sculptures and even a champagne fountain. Delmonico's had provided the eight-course dinner as well as the six-tiered white wedding cake.

Emmett had planned the reception himself, hiring a small army to see it done. Sloane had offered to contribute, but Emmett refused. This day reflected on him as much as the Sloanes, perhaps more so, and he'd wanted all of New York to choke on how far this Five Points thug had risen. Besides, there were other, more public ways of driving Sloane to the poorhouse than a wedding reception.

Like stripping Northeast Railroad out of Sloane's hands.

Emmett's gaze returned to his wife. Definitely drunk. For the last hour, she'd circulated through the guests, hardly taking the time to eat, let alone speak to her husband. He'd kept his eyes on her, though. That's how he knew when she began weaving on her feet.

“You keep staring at her like that, she's likely to go up in flames,” his brother murmured at his side.

Emmett frowned pointedly at Brendan. “Don't think I've forgotten your part in this.”

Brendan lifted his hands, palms out. “How was I to know someone would send her brother to discover the two of you? I thought one harmless dinner—”

“In a private dining room set up for me and my mistress. Indeed, how could anything go wrong?” Emmett swallowed the rest of his drink, slammed the empty tumbler back on the table.

Brendan chuckled. “You still compromised her, dear brother.”

Yes, Emmett had kissed her. That hardly seemed enough to warrant marriage. “Well, you've gotten your wish. Claire and Katie's coming out is all but guaranteed. Is there anything else I can do for you,
dear brother?
”

“Yes, you can collect your bride and start your honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. A sizzle slid over Emmett's skin, the heat working its way to his balls. He'd have Elizabeth all to himself for two weeks. She might appear reserved and proper, a buttoned-up blue blood, but that exterior melted away when he kissed her. She became a live electric wire in his hands, a shock of raw passion unlike any he'd ever experienced. And he meant to have every bit of that passion.

“These were a nice touch, by the way.” Brendan lifted the expensive Cuban cigar wrapped in a one-hundred-dollar bill. Each male guest had received one, while every woman at the reception had received a gold-and-emerald Tiffany bracelet. Lavish, but a necessary statement.

Emmett might not have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he could buy and sell these Knickerbockers ten times over.

He noticed Elizabeth sway once more. “I think I'll fetch Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

Brendan slapped Emmett's shoulder. “See you in two weeks. And congratulations, Emmett. She's a smart, funny, and attractive woman. I think you've met your match in her.”

Though he didn't need it, Emmett was glad of Brendan's approval, since they would all be living together when Emmett and Elizabeth returned from Newport. Emmett rose and left the ballroom for the adjoining hall, where he found Kelly lurking around the corner.

“Are we ready to depart?” Emmett asked.

“Sure thing, Bish. Just tell me when. But I figured you'd want to hang around your fancy guests some more.”

“No, I'd like to get going before dusk.”

Kelly's lips twitched. “Anxious for tonight, are you?”

“Go to hell,” he said, though the words lacked heat. Kelly was right, and no use arguing it. “I'll inform Elizabeth that we're leaving.”

“I'll pull the carriage around.” Kelly pushed off the wall and started for the back of the house.

Emmett pivoted—only to discover Will Sloane directly behind him, a deep scowl on the other man's face. Emmett folded his arms across his chest. “I wondered when you'd find me, Sloane.”

Sloane stalked forward, shifting around the corner where they wouldn't be overheard. “I'll be checking on her, ensuring she's happy. And if you don't make her happy, there will be hell to pay, Cavanaugh.”

Emmett would have laughed, if he hadn't been so disgusted at the hypocrisy. He couldn't wait to bury this man.

He stepped closer and snarled, “Spare me your sack of shit. If you were concerned at all with her happiness, you wouldn't have forced this marriage. You wouldn't have blackmailed me by threatening to ruin my sisters unless I married yours.”

“You left me no goddamn choice,” Sloane fired back, not backing down. “You attacked her in a private dining salon with half of New York society one floor below.”

Emmett threw his head back and gave a disbelieving laugh. “
I
attacked
her
? Is that what you've told yourself in order to sleep at night? Your sister practically begged me to kiss her.”

Sloane's entire body went rigid. “You bastard. Do not even imply that she is not pure.”

“I don't give a damn whether she's pure or not,” Emmett said with a malevolent smile. “But I do intend on finding out the answer tonight.”