“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said.
Schmitt let out a held breath and dropped into the chair behind him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.
For the first time, Alexander felt a frisson of fear rumble down his spine. Anyone or anything that frightened Henry Schmitt must be taken seriously. The fact that Schmitt had actually given him his thanks made Alexander’s concerns even more sobering.
Alexander pushed through the crowd at the Continental Hotel’s bar until he saw his father seated at a corner booth. Alexander pulled off his hat, sat down, and ordered a scotch whiskey from a busy young man carrying drinks to the loud and jocular crowd.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
His father nodded in reply, a grim look on his face.
Alexander was caught off guard. His always confident father was hesitant. Unsure. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know, Alexander. The last time we spoke was when we came for you at the Thompson’s house and you were surrounded by women. This is the first time you and I have spoken privately since we spoke about . . . about your brother.”
“How did Schmitt find out about this woman. Mrs. McMillan. This affair?”
“We didn’t advertise our estrangement, your mother and I, but still people knew and there was talk. I set up payments for her for Jonathon’s care, so the bank employees knew. I was a well-known face around Philadelphia married for a few years and living at a hotel. People knew. If Schmitt dug around a little, he would find out.”
“I was furious and maybe still am to some degree,” he said, looking down at the drink that had just been delivered and then up into the cautious eyes of his father. “But I spoke to a friend. They lost their parents, both of them at the same time, and that person reminded me that I am incredibly lucky to have you still on this earth. They are right. I am lucky. But I’m not quite sure why Mother didn’t kill you at the time.”
His father shrugged and looked away. “It was a close thing done. The time we were separated was the longest and worst month of my life. I wasn’t sure that she would ever forgive me.”
“But she did.”
His father nodded and took a drink. “She did. I am eternally grateful to her for that and still at a loss as to what I was thinking at the time.” He looked up at Alexander. “We are all bound for mistakes in our lives, but we sometimes fool ourselves and think that we would never do something that would put ourselves in so much jeopardy. But I did put my family in jeopardy and gambled with the respect of my parents and siblings and with the good opinion—and love—of my wife. I was arrogant and foolish. Who could ever compete with the beauty and brains and style of your mother? No one. No one could, although Annabelle is close.”
“Mother is all that and more.”
His father looked him in the eye then. “But more than any of that, more than all of it, I’m in love with her, and I love her, and have from nearly the first minute I met her.”
“How did you know? How did you know you loved her?”
Andrew Pendergast smiled slowly. “I couldn’t breathe when I was around her. I couldn’t think of anything but making her mine. I counted the minutes I was away from her.”
Alexander tapped his thumb on the table and thought about his sleepless nights wondering what Elspeth had done during her day and reliving his foolish words when she was at his parents’ home for the luncheon with Annabelle. “I don’t know how she feels,” he said and looked up suddenly. He hadn’t meant to speak out.
“Your mother said she thinks you are partial to the Thompson girl. Elspeth?”
He thought about shrugging it off. He thought about acting as if he didn’t care. He hesitated to admit, even to his father, that he’d been brought low and confused by a young woman. If he was the sophisticated man about town that he pictured of himself, then why was he feeling so unsure and out of sorts over her since nearly the first moment he met her on the steps of a bawdy house, of all places.
“I think about her all the time. Even when I’ve sworn to myself that I will not think of her.”
“Maybe you’re more than partial,” his father said and took a sip of his drink.
“Maybe. She is actually the reason I wanted to talk to you.” He then told his father about Schmitt’s requests and then his demands. “I’m concerned for her safety, especially after those two men followed her and her sister after the boxing match. But I’m also concerned for our family, for you, for Mother and Annabelle.”
“Why?”
“I think Schmitt . . . I know Schmitt told those men that I know her. What if they wanted to force me to find out something about her? I told Schmitt I’d try and find out their family name before they came here, but I was just trying to buy time. I’d never seen him in such a state. He was panicked. He must know these people will not take no for an answer. I don’t want to worry you unnecessarily but—”
“I trust your judgment,” his father interrupted. “I’ll talk to my security people and have them add staff, maybe visible staff, until this is resolved. What will you do about the Thompsons? They are the most at risk, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m going to talk to Elspeth right away. I don’t know if she’ll want me to talk to the eldest sister and brother or maybe her aunt. The night of the boxing match, her brother could barely speak, but he grabbed me by the throat and insisted I tell him who the men were who followed us. As if I knew. There is something going on that I don’t understand.”
“I hope Miss Thompson understands your hesitancy to tell her earlier,” his father said as he swirled the chipped ice in his glass. He looked up at Alexander. “If she is the one, you must say things you may be reluctant to admit. You’ll have to be honest.”
“That is frightening in and of itself, Father,” he said, thinking of what he must be about when he spoke to her, sitting quietly but companionably with the man he considered his closest friend.
“Be careful, Alexander. Do you have anyone at your town house? Do you want me to have Graham send someone?”
Alexander shook his head. “I’ll be careful.”
Elspeth stepped out of the grocer, the basket on her arm filled with spinach and collards for the evening’s meal. The weather was warm as she strolled through the crowds gathered to shop at the markets in her neighborhood. She’d gladly volunteered to make the trip for Mrs. McClintok, away from family and alone with her thoughts, although the housekeeper had been nearly insistent that she take Robert with her. But she wanted some time by herself, and it was broad daylight. Surely she’d be safe enough. She was in a troublesome spot, she thought, and needed some time to reflect on it.
She liked Alexander Pendergast more, much more, than she had ever planned or anticipated, even though they’d spent little time together. Her stomach turned over whenever she saw him, and she could not stop herself from remembering that horribly embarrassing moment when he’d shown up at his family home when she was there with Kirsty and his sister.
She did not believe she’d ever been so humiliated or distressed as she was when she jumped from her chair and he’d been so rude and asked her why she was there. She’d done her best to concentrate on smiling and involving herself in the conversation at the table afterward, but she’d been sick to her stomach. So sick it was all she could do to swallow even one more bite of her meal.