Chapter 17 #2
Maggie gave a little shake of her head, but said nothing more.
Her throat felt thick and she knew she couldn’t manage any retort that was either elegant or astute.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the opulent Palmer House, the magnificent structure taking up a whole block with an impressive cupola on the corner, and Theo helped her out, as gallant as ever, a teasing glint in his dark eyes that Maggie didn’t know whether to be offended or charmed by.
Despite his gentlemanly behavior, she still couldn’t decide whether agreeing to his dinner invitation was an enormous, and potentially costly, mistake.
And, she acknowledged as Theo guided her through the lobby, she wasn’t even dressed appropriately, still wearing her plain dress of black cambric, the uniform of a shopgirl, while the other ladies present were decked out in evening gowns and jewels, every inch of them emanating wealth and privilege.
She looked, Maggie thought with a sinking sensation, like the humble shopgirl she was, and while the ma?tre d’ said not a word, his eloquent glance, raking her swiftly from head to toe, spoke volumes.
Judging from the man’s smooth flattery, Theo Stein was a valued patron, and whomever he chose to dine with would be accepted, even if the very slight curl of the man’s lip made Maggie realize just how much he assumed about her.
She doubted she would be allowed in such a fancy hotel on her own, or even with Brendan or Danny.
Her cheeks burned as they were guided to a table in the back of the restaurant, half-hidden behind a potted fern, clearly a matter of discretion. Maggie took her menu with murmured thanks and stared at it blindly, mortified to be there at all.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Theo told her in a low voice. “This is perfectly respectable, you know.”
“Is it?” Maggie’s voice sounded as if it was being squeezed out through her throat. She forced herself to meet his kindly gaze above the menu, her face still hot. “It doesn’t feel respectable,” she forced herself to confess, “and I don’t think the ma?tre d’ thinks it is one jot.”
He arched a dark eyebrow, his mouth curving sensuously. “And do you care one jot what a man such as that thinks?” he challenged.
“I don’t have the luxury of such indifference,” Maggie returned hotly.
“Ah, touché.” He nodded somberly, taking her sharp tone in his stride. “I certainly don’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position, Miss O’Halloran. That was not my intention at all.”
“What was your intention?” Maggie asked boldly. As charming as Theo Stein could be, he held all the cards and he knew it. She was getting tired of feeling at a disadvantage.
“My intention,” Theo told her, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a deliberately husky murmur, “was to spend the evening becoming better acquainted with a young lady I find charming, interesting, and very beautiful.” He arched his eyebrows again, even higher, his mouth curving all the more. “What was your intention?”
Maggie met his stare as boldly as she dared, although her insides felt like a plateful of jelly. “To eat a slap-up meal and see the inside of Palmer House,” she retorted, a response that elicited a shout of laughter loud enough that it had the heads of nearby patrons turning.
“Oh, good, very good,” Theo told her, still laughing.
“You have already accomplished one of those admirable intentions, and I shall make sure you accomplish the other. Sommelier!” He snapped his fingers and a man came scurrying forward, instantly attentive.
“The finest champagne you have, if you please,” Theo stated extravagantly, “and the whole bottle, if you please.”
“Mr. Stein,” Maggie protested quickly, alarmed at how the other customers were starting to take notice of them, a ripple of murmurs moving around the room in a soft wave of sound. “Such an extravagance is neither necessary nor welcome—”
“Why not?” he challenged, his eyes dancing. “You wanted a slap-up meal, did you not?”
“I did not ask for an entire bottle of expensive champagne!” Maggie returned fiercely, keeping her voice low. “You shall ruin my reputation.”
“You work at Field’s,” Theo replied with a negligent shrug. “Is there really such a reputation to ruin?”
Stung into speechlessness, Maggie sat back and simply stared at him, shocked at how utterly indifferent he’d sounded, and, noticing her hurt expression, Theo hurried to explain.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his mouth turning down at its corners and his eyes looking even more liquid. “I promise you. I only meant that no one here will even know who you are.”
Maggie pressed her lips together and said nothing, not trusting herself to make a sensible reply, and he reached for her hand, his manner pleading now.
“Maggie, please. I wasn’t trying to insult you—”
“Perhaps you don’t even need to try,” she replied tartly, hiding her hurt with sharp words.
Did he really think so little of her? She’d been even more foolish than she realized, agreeing to accompany him tonight, believing his fine words about respect.
And yet she’d still let him take her hand just now, and he still held it, clasped tightly in his own, and she did not even try to pull away.
“Don’t be cross,” Theo insisted, squeezing her hand. “I told you, I will behave as a gentleman.”
“I don’t know if anyone here believes you, myself included,” she replied seriously, and he laughed softly as if she’d made a joke.
“I don’t give a fig for what anyone else thinks, and neither should you.
” He kept hold of her hand as the sommelier came forward, brandishing an expensive-looking bottle of champagne.
“Now tell me,” Theo invited as the man uncorked the bottle with a flourish and poured two fizzing coupes, finally releasing her hand.
“Why were you on Prairie Avenue tonight in the first place?”