He ground his teeth together. The idea of going weeks without seeing her hurt worse than when he’d been jumped by three toughs in a Bowery gin house at the age of fourteen. They’d stolen his take for the week, a meager forty dollars, after busting several of his ribs.
Still, he’d rather face that than any stretch of time without Florence.
“Is she planning to return now that the drama is over?” Anna asked, oblivious to Clay’s inner turmoil.
“No, not until the threat has passed.”
Jack snorted. “That may never happen, considering.”
“You can’t protect her all the time, Clay,” Anna said. “Besides, she’s a grown woman. She knows the risks of coming here.”
Clay didn’t care. He’d protect her to the best of his ability, and that meant sorting out this mess first. “Thank you but I know what I’m doing.”
“Does this mean you are going uptown to see her?”
Uptown? Had Anna lost her mind? A man like Clay was constantly on guard, always looking over his shoulder. Even disregarding his current problems with Bill and the Metropolitan Police, there were plenty of men who’d do him harm if given the chance. Clay would rather not give them the opportunity. “You know I prefer not to leave the club.”
Anna rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Which is absurd. Your legion of enemies cannot track you at night in a closed carriage.”
“Or even in the daylight,” Jack put in. “If you recall, you attended a Giants game at the Polo Grounds not long ago.”
“For a meeting. That was business.”
“Your relationship with Miss Greene is also business,” Anna said. “All those late-night tutoring sessions.”
“Indeed. In his bedroom,” Jack added and Anna chuckled.
While they laughed at his expense, Clay thought about what Anna had said. He could leave the club, of course. He just preferred to remain here unless absolutely necessary. It was safer that way. Hell, one of Clay’s former associates had been gunned down in broad daylight three years ago in Washington Square Park. And that man had merely operated a low-level racket of policy shops.
Yet, the long evenings without Florence stretched out ahead of him like a thick gray fog. Lifeless and prosaic. An endless cycle of tedium. She’d brought light and joy to his world, even when he didn’t deserve it—light and joy that would be permanently taken away when she discovered his plans for her grandmother’s home.
That didn’t leave him much time.
There had to be a way to see her outside of the club and keep both of them safe. He couldn’t very well promenade with her in Central Park, but plenty of discreet locations existed for this sort of thing.
And wasn’t tomorrow her birthday?
He glanced at his pocket watch. Actually, today was her birthday.
Surely he could think of a way to surprise her.
Birthdays were usually fun, Florence thought as she finished the champagne in her glass. Tonight they dined in a private dining salon at Sherry’s, her favorite restaurant. She’d worn her favorite dress. And she’d ordered all her favorite dishes.
So why did this year’s celebration feel as though a dark cloud loomed on the horizon?
No one was particularly cheerful. Her father, with his tight jaw and distracted demeanor, was strangely subdued throughout dinner. Mamie also seemed preoccupied, lost in her thoughts and uncommunicative. For her part, Florence spent the meal worried about Clay and wondering when she’d see him again. Which left Justine and their mother to shoulder the burden of the dinner conversation.
It was clear by dessert that no one wished to prolong the evening. The plates were barely cleared when her father stood to call an end to the service. “Darling Florence, happy birthday. Now, if you all don’t mind I have an early meeting. It’s best if we head home.”
“Daddy, you and Mama go on,” Mamie said. “We’ll stay here and finish the champagne.”
“Are you certain?” Mama asked, her brows lowered in concern. “I don’t like the idea of you three unescorted in a hansom at night.”
Florence dug her nails into her palms to keep from laughing like a loon. If only her mother knew how often the two eldest Greene siblings were in hansoms, unescorted, late at night. She’d likely faint from the shock.
“We’ll be fine,” Mamie assured her. “I’ll have the staff fetch a carriage for us in a few moments.”
Mama glanced at their father. “What do you think, Duncan?”
“I think it’s best if your mother and I take a hansom home instead. Then you three may stay as long as you like and George will see you home,” he said, referring to their family driver.
Decision made, her parents gave their farewells and departed. Waiters bustled in and out of the salon, clearing away the dishes and glassware. When they were finally alone, Florence turned to Mamie. “You were awfully anxious to rid ourselves of them.”
Mamie’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, the one she wore when hiding a secret. “And you’ll soon see why, little sister.”
“Well, I want to know,” Justine said. “What’s happening?”
Mamie leaned back in her chair, champagne glass in hand. “Perhaps I wished for more time with my sisters.”
“I’d sooner believe you plan to run an oyster cart in the Bowery,” Florence said. “Tell me what this is about.”
Instead of answering, Mamie handed Florence a note.
Make certain Florence leaves alone. I have a surprise for her.
—M
Who on earth . . . ? Then it hit her with the subtlety of three aces. Clayton. Was he downstairs? Excitement fizzed and popped in her veins, just like the champagne she’d been drinking all night. Goodness, how she longed to see him.
Confusion quickly overshadowed her excitement, however. Clay never left the Bronze House. It made no sense for him to come to Sherry’s only to escort her home. “When did you receive this?”
“During appetizers.” Mamie looked at her fingernails as if appreciating them. “And I kept your little rendezvous a secret this whole time.”
“Why do I have a feeling I will owe you something for that favor?”
“Because you will. Frank is helping me with one of the tenement wives. She’s been arrested and there may be stretches of time where I’ll need to disappear. You will cover for me with our parents.”
“Arrested!” Justine was aghast. “For what?”
“Murdering her husband,” Mamie said. “Frank plans to get her acquitted. But he needs my help so—”
“I’ll bet he does,” Florence said under her breath, which prompted Mamie to elbow her. “Ouch! Fine, I’ll make sure Daddy and Mama don’t suspect a thing.”
“You are the best liar in the family,” Justine said to Florence. “You have a bizarre talent for thinking on your feet.”
“It’s not hard. All you have to do is sound like you know what you’re talking about. People believe you if you speak with confidence.” She pushed her chair away from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to see who is outside.”
“But I thought it was Clayton Madden,” Justine said, rising, as well.