Page 20 of The Gilded Heiress

“Listen,” the bartender continued, “if you’re thinking of starting trouble, I’d advise against it. Brick comes from a long

line of bare-knuckle fighters. He’ll knock your pretty face into next week.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m watching out for—” I clamped my lips shut. I’d almost said my girl.

“Yeah, I get it, pal. But if Brick wants your woman, you’d best let him have her.”

Over my dead body.

Sipping my beer, I leaned on the sticky bar and continued to watch the couple. They were drinking beer as well, and I was

thankful that Josie sipped hers slowly. Time dragged on, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I would stand here all night, if necessary.

Josie drew a lot of attention. She chatted with the men at surrounding tables and the working women, too. She laughed loudly

and gestured with her hands, so beautiful she made my teeth ache. Kissing her had been unbelievable, all my fantasies come

to life. Her soft lips and wet tongue, not to mention the little noises she made, would haunt me forever.

But I was a terrible man, a liar and a cheat, planning to use Josie as revenge on the Pendelton family. It felt wrong to entertain

these feelings for Josie, even if she instigated it. Eventually she would learn the truth of why we were in New York and regret

kissing me.

The third rule of a confidence man: you can’t feel sorry for your mark.

Safe to say St. Elmer would be quite disappointed in me. I was letting my attraction to Josie color my judgment. All the more

reason to keep my hands and mouth to myself. I needed to focus on my scheme, nothing else.

The saloon’s front door burst open. A group of men and women marched inside, some carrying lamps and the rest carrying banners. Peering closer, I made out the words New York Society for the Suppression of Vice on the cloth.

Oh, shit.

Four policemen followed next, billy clubs in their hands, each taking a strategic position in the room. The hairs on the back

of my neck stood up. What was this, a puritanical street mob with police muscle?

“Ho!” the bartender shouted. “You can’t come in here. It’s a place of business.”

“A place of sin,” one of the older banner carriers said. “And we are shutting you down, sinner.” Like righteous sheep, the

other mob members echoed their agreement.

“The hell you are!” a man at a table shouted.

In retaliation, a policeman strolled over and whacked the patron on the side of his head with a club. The man fell out of

his chair and slumped onto the floor. He didn’t move or make another sound.

The banner carrier pointed at the various women around the saloon. “Arrest these slatterns. They are a plague and a blight

on our society, intent on leading decent men astray.”

Policemen began rounding up the prostitutes in the room and my jaw dropped open. The women were complaining loudly, but the

men at the tables remained silent. Was no one going to do anything about this?

Before I could speak up, an officer approached Josie—and my blood turned cold. I was halfway across the room in a blink.

“Get up, whore,” the officer said, the tiniest hint of an Irish brogue in his voice.

“I’m here to have a drink, nothing more,” Josie said, trying to rip her arm out of the officer’s grip. “Tell him, Brick.”

Brick lifted his palms. “I don’t want trouble, Officer.”

Fine help he was. Evidently, I needed to take matters into my own hands.

Not a problem. I’d fibbed enough to Boston coppers in my day. I could handle these New York City boyos.

In my deepest Irish accent, I called, “Josie, my darlin’ wife. Here’s your drink.” I set my nearly full beer on the table,

then looked at the policeman. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

Josie stared at me as if I’d lost my mind, but I concentrated on the officer.

He let go of Josie’s arm, but he didn’t move away. “This woman is your wife?”

I gave him a proud smile. “Indeed, sir. Married three years now, we are. She’s a fine lass, ain’t she?”

Still dubious, the officer glanced at Josie. “Do you know this man, ma’am?”

Her eyes were round and confused, like shock had ahold of her tongue. Willing her not to argue, I slid into a chair and pulled

her into my lap. “Josie, love. Tell him.”

“He’s my husband,” she muttered, her body stiff against me.

That wouldn’t do.

When the officer looked over at Brick, I took the opportunity to whisper “Relax” into Josie’s ear. She squirmed a bit on my

lap, then went loose into my hold. “Good girl,” I said quietly.

The officer was addressing Brick. “And who are you? Do you know these people?”

“No, I don’t know them,” Brick said. “I came in for a drink.”

“Did this woman approach you and offer you favors?”

I spoke up. “Of course not, sir! There weren’t enough seats and my wife is increasing.” I gestured to Josie’s midsection.

“I can’t have her standing at the bar. This nice gentleman agreed to let us sit at his table.”

“You are with child?” the officer asked Josie.

“Positively full with one!” my fake wife said cheerfully. “He wanted to wait, but you know how that goes. I can’t get enough of my man.” She patted my chest.

The officer squinted at her hand. “Why are you not wearin’ a ring, then?”

“Do you think I’m the bleedin’ pope?” I snorted. “Been savin’ up for one, but then with the baby coming I wanted to take her

back to Belfast first.”

“You’re from Belfast?” The officer broke out into a wide smile. “My parents were from Banbridge.”

“A good town, Banbridge,” I said with false confidence. “Decent folks.”

“I don’t remember it,” the officer said. “I was a wee babe when we left. Always wanted to go back, though.”

“If you do, make sure to stop by The Silver Harp. Tell them Charlie O’Connor says hello.”

The officer held out his hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Connor—”

“What is going on here?” The leader of the banner wavers had arrived. “Officer, why haven’t you arrested this whore?”

Josie bristled, her muscles tightening, so I stroked her hip to calm her down. “I’ll thank you lads to stop callin’ my wife

names.”

As I’d hoped, the officer leapt to my defense. “These are decent people and they’ve done nothin’ wrong. We’ve done like you

asked with the rest.”

The older man sneered at Josie. “Decent people? No decent woman would sit on a man’s lap in public. It is a shameless display

of immorality by a whore.”

“You had better—” Josie started, but I squeezed her tight.

“What my wife is tryin’ to say is that she’s with child and not feeling well. We don’t know the city as we’ve just traveled

here from Boston. We stopped so that she can rest.”

“In a saloon ?” the banner waver asked.

“This is a pub, I thought.” I looked around dramatically. “The whole town of Belfast gathers at a pub every afternoon.”

“Now, let’s leave these fine people to their day.” The officer motioned for me and Josie to stand. “You’d best go and find

your rooms. This place ain’t safe for decent folks.”

“Thank you, sir.” I rose and placed Josie on her feet. Then I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. “We appreciate

your consideration.”

“Officer! Arrest her this minute!” Now agitated, the banner waver lunged for Josie and grabbed her arm.

He was touching her. Bold as you please, as if he had the right.

A red mist coated my brain.

Before anyone could blink, I snatched the front of the man’s shirt in my fist and pulled him close to my face. Voice low,

I snarled, “You best release her, boyo, or I’ll bleedin’ burst ya.”

His face paled and he let go of Josie immediately. “He threatened me! Arrest him, Officer.”

My new friend on the Metropolitan police force rolled his eyes. “You cannot manhandle another man’s wife, Reverend.”

I let the reverend go, then reached to shake the officer’s hand. “Good to meet you. éirinn go Brách .”

“ éirinn go Brách ,” he repeated back. Then he tipped his cap at Josie. “Ma’am.”

She placed her hand on her stomach—a little too high for a baby, but who minded?—and said, “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll never

forget you, Mr....?”

“Dooley. Name’s Daniel Dooley.”

“That’s a fine name.” Josie sighed and looked up at me, her green gaze twinkling with mischief. “If we have a boy, we must

name him Daniel.”

The officer turned pink. “Well, now. I’d be honored, ma’am.”

“Mrs. O’Connor,” I said, gently pushing Josie away from the table. “I think it’s past time for us to go.”

“Fine, Mr. O’Connor. Don’t forget, you promised to rub my back,” she announced loud enough for the entire room to hear. “It’s been so sore with the baby and all.”

“I know, love. I’ll do that when we get back to our rooms. Keep going.”

The officers and Holy Rollers watched us go. I nodded as we passed, trying to keep up the ruse long enough to get Josie to

safety. After what seemed like an interminable walk, we reached the door.

Somehow, I sensed Josie wasn’t through. I could feel her vibrating, like she was biding her time, building up to something.

Good Christ, I hoped I was wrong.

I yanked on the door and held it open for her. She glanced over her shoulder, a determined glint in her eye. Just as she opened

her mouth, I gave her a tiny shove outside. “Don’t do it. Let it go.”

Instead of listening to me, she started shouting. “No one has committed a crime in there—and you are hypocrites!”

“Damn it, woman. Keep moving before you get us arrested.” I tugged her across the walk and toward the street. A hack happened

to be rolling by, so I flagged the driver down.

“Stop blaming the women!” she shouted toward the saloon. “The blame belongs with the men!”

I had the door to the hansom open before the wheels stopped moving. Picking Josie up, I practically tossed her into the conveyance.

“Let’s get out of here.”