Page 25 of The Gilded Heiress

Leo

I stared through the window of the hansom, disappointment throbbing, pounding in my temples. No, not exactly disappointment.

Failure.

I’d failed tonight. This had been my best opportunity to put Josie in front of Mrs. Pendelton... and I’d failed.

A crowd packed into our tiny box during the second intermission, preventing our opportunity to visit the other tier and Mrs.

Pendelton. One after another, nearly everyone in the opera house pushed in to meet the famous Parisian singer—everyone save

the person I most needed her to meet.

The entire night had been a waste. Now I needed to come up with another plot to get the two in the same room together.

Goddamn it.

“Why are you such a sour face?” Josie asked as we turned a sharp corner. “I thought it went exceedingly well.”

No, it hadn’t. And I couldn’t tell her why. “You certainly caused a stir. Melvin will be very happy.”

“But you aren’t.”

“Indeed, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve no idea, but you’ve been awfully quiet since the second intermission ended.”

“Maybe I’m tired of talking. I did quite a lot of it tonight to maintain our ruse.”

“You? Tired of talking?” She made a dismissive sound in her throat. “I’ll never believe it.”

Fair. In my line of work, I did do quite a lot of talking. Right now, however, I felt too hollow, too mad to carry on a conversation.

Empty. Drained.

Exhausted from failing at such a simple task.

I tapped my fingers on the side of the carriage, restless, as I tried to consider my next move. What was I going to do if

I couldn’t make this work?

If I failed, Flora would go running to some dangerous man, lured in with big promises and empty kisses.

My mother would work herself into an early grave.

We’d never afford a doctor for Tess, who still had trouble breathing properly.

My other sisters would accept marriages they didn’t want, or work factory jobs that would suck out their souls.

Take care of them, Leo, after I’m gone.

I had promised my father that I’d always look after my sisters. Some fine job I was doing of it at the moment.

By the time we reached our street, my head was a mess. Frustration simmered under my skin, and the proximity to Josie wasn’t

helping one bit. The smell of her perfume had teased me all night, reminding me of the kisses we’d shared. I was craving another

taste of her like a drug.

It’s nice having a tomcat around for moments like this.

I closed my eyes and struggled for control. Focus was a strength of mine, the one advantage I had over all the other charlatans

out there. What good was I without it?

The carriage finally rolled to a stop. I paid the driver, then jumped out to assist Josie down. With ruthless determination,

I ignored the soft feel of her small hand in mine.

And I ignored the swish of her skirts, the plump heft of her bosom in the low neckline of her gown. I ignored the way my pulse leapt as she took my arm, the press of her body to mine as I led her inside.

Most of all I ignored the demand in my gut, the yearning to do filthy things to her.

When we reached the vestibule, I dropped her arm as quickly as I could manage. Thankfully, she stayed quiet while we climbed

the stairs. Each step brought more dread, more concern that I would cross an irrevocable line with her.

I wasn’t sure I cared anymore.

When I unlocked the door, her eyebrows dipped in confusion. “Are you planning on telling me what is the matter with you?”

she asked.

“My dear,” a voice within the apartment answered. “Leo is a cranky curmudgeon. It can definitely take some gettin’ used to.”

A man inside the apartment... That deep southern twang...

No, it couldn’t be.

My head swung around. There he was, relaxed on the sofa with his feet propped on the low table.

Ambrose Lee Turner.

Fuck me.

“You’re supposed to be in Saratoga,” I blurted.

Ambrose unfolded his long limbs from the sofa and stood. “That’s a fine way to greet your closest friend in the world.” His

wool suit had seen better days and his hair was longer than I remembered. The mustache was definitely new.

But the determined, crafty gleam in his gaze? That I well recognized.

Keeping my focus on my friend, I shifted to block Josie from him. “Why are you here?”

“I came back,” Ambrose said, lifting his hands in a careless shrug. “You inform me you’re comin’ to visit—and bringing a woman

with you, no less—and you think I don’t want to see that for myself? You should know me better than that, Hardy.”

“You know the rules.” Ninth rule of being a confidence man: never interfere in another confidence man’s scheme.

“Yes, but you’ve never brought in a woman before.” He leaned around me to see Josie. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Josie stepped to the side. “Hello, sir. You must be Ambrose,” she said.

“Indeed.” He gave a dramatic bow. “Ambrose Lee, at your service.”

“What happened to Turner?” I asked.

Ambrose’s grin turned sheepish, like a little boy who’d been caught stealing treats behind his mother’s back. “Had a little

trouble in Scranton. Now, tell me all about yourself, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

Josie began peeling off her opera gloves, one finger at a time. “I’m Josie Smith. A singer from Boston.”

Ambrose slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and I clenched my teeth together as he let his eyes travel up and down

Josie’s body. “Lordy almighty. I can see why he’s trying to hide you. What are you doing here in New York City, Miss Josie

Smith from Boston?”

I didn’t like this. I didn’t want Ambrose around Josie. “We’re tired. This can all wait until morning—”

“It’s all right,” Josie said. “I don’t mind staying up a bit to talk.”

“Yeah, Leo.” Ambrose cocked an eyebrow at me. “Do allow the lady to speak.”

While Ambrose and I glared at each other, Josie said, “Leo brought me here to help launch my singing career. He’s my manager.”

Ambrose’s jaw fell open as his eyes darted back and forth between Josie and me. Then he burst into laughter, his head thrown

back as loud guffaws filled the room. “A manager ? Oh, this is perfect.”

“Shut up,” I snarled. The last thing I needed was for Josie to start doubting me again. I couldn’t have her pulling out, not yet.

“It’s genius.” A still laughing Ambrose bent over at the waist, a hand on his stomach. “You don’t know a dashed thing about—”

I lunged for him and got a hand on his suit coat, then I began dragging him toward the door. “Josie, excuse us. I need a private

word with Ambrose.”

Without another word, I tugged my friend out into the corridor. He was still chuckling, not putting up a fight, yet I kept

towing him toward the small washroom. I threw him in the empty room and closed the door behind us. “Shut the hell up.”

Ambrose wiped his eyes dramatically. “You having trouble getting pussy, Leo? Now you have to pretend to be some poor girl’s

manager to get under her skirts? As I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see the day.”

I advanced on him and shoved his chest with both hands. Hard. His arm knocked a porcelain soap dish off the sink as he went,

yet he continued to grin at me. My fingers curled into fists. “I swear, I’m going to hit you. This is on the level.” Sort of.

Ambrose waved his hand dismissively. “Please. You never do anything on the level. It’s why we’re such good pals.”

“Well, it is this time. So whatever you’re thinking of saying to her, stuff it back inside your gob.”

“Horseshit.” Sobering, Ambrose folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me what you’re really doing, or I’m giving that sweet

girl a complete recounting of your illustrious history.”

“Why?” I ran a palm down my face. “Why are you making this difficult for me?”

“Come now. You haven’t been to New York in almost twenty years. Why now? Why her?”

“Just plain curiosity, is that it?”

“Yes, dearest Leo. Who knows? Maybe I can offer advice on whatever con you’re running. We’ve always helped each other in the

past.”

“This is different.”

“Doubtful.” He studied his fingernails. “If you aren’t going to tell me the truth, then your lady friend has a right to know

how we truly know each other.”

“Don’t you dare. That would ruin everything,” I said before I could think better of it.

“Ha!” With a triumphant expression, he pointed a long finger at my face. “I knew it.” Then he rubbed his hands together, like

a greedy thief. “Allow me to guess. She’s paying you to take her to meetings and auditions and whatnot, and you’re pocketing

the money?”

“Christ, no. I told you, I’m acting as her manager.”

“And? Besides fucking her, obviously.”

“I’m not fucking her,” I hissed, hoping no one could hear us out here. Especially Josie.

“I beg your pardon. I assumed you’d made a claim on the young lady. If not...” His lips twisted into a slick smile. “Then

indeed, I am pleased as punch to hear it.”

My upper lip curled as my muscles tightened again. “She is not available for your depravity.”

“I see.”

I didn’t care for the way he said it, as if I were as transparent as glass. But I didn’t have time for this conversation.

I needed to return to the apartment and deal with Josie.

“Just keep quiet.” I straightened my vest and smoothed my hair. “I need to get back in there and make sure she’s all right.”

“For now, I’ll go along. But I expect answers tomorrow, Leo, or else...”

“Or else? Jesus, Ambrose. Is this how you treat a man you’ve known for over a decade? What about the ninth rule?”

“I’m not going to interfere. You know you can trust me.”

“Do I?”

“Now you’re hurting my feelings. Perhaps I merely wish to learn from you. You always were St. Elmer’s favorite.”

Sighing, I stared at the sink. I couldn’t fool Ambrose. We were cut from the same cloth. We’d grown up together, run schemes together. And if he was living in the apartment with us, I needed him on my side.

I nodded once. “Fine. Let me see to her tonight and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Ambrose swept his hand toward the door. “After you, sir.”