Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Rawlins Dyer removed his top hat and swept into his friend’s office. He had an agenda to complete. He’d not fail.
“This is a surprise, Rawlins.” Edward gestured for the oil baron to have a seat.
“I’ll stand, for what I must say has great and timely importance.”
Edward blinked. “Who?”
“It is unfortunate to be the bearer of bad news. Elizabeth, your daughter, has been carrying on with Zachary Rourke,” he spat.
“There is an accounting of her coming in and out of his offices during the day–and at night. I didn’t believe it at first, but had one of my men follow her in the past week to convince me of the truth.
Her promiscuous activities are documented in this rag.
” He tossed a newspaper on Edward’s desk.
Edward closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked at Dyer without saying a word, seeming to have aged five years in a few seconds.
“I rushed to inform you that newsboys are hawking Elizabeth’s indiscretions as we speak.
Passing patrons are tipping more for the bold black headlines of the tabloids.
I’ve reduced their number by having my men buy up as many copies as possible–and, otherwise, convincing the rest not to sell.
” “Otherwise” being a latent hint that his men would beat them to a pulp and smash their presses.
“There is more,” confessed Dyer, satisfied his hard work to make Elizabeth appear like a whore ensured the desired effect on her father.
“What more can there be?” Edward shook his head. “The scandal will black mark my family forever.”
“Firing through New York is word of Elizabeth’s illegitimate daughter she visits at the Fitzgerald Orphanage. I’m using my control to stop the bigger papers. Perhaps you can halt the newspapers under your influence.”
Spencer scrutinized the headlines. “I can’t believe it. Anyone but Elizabeth. I have trusted my daughter and given her too much freedom. Why didn’t I listen to Alva and curb her activities long ago?”
For a spilt-second, Edward’s breathing suspended. “All of this right beneath my nose? Elizabeth’s daughter? I thought the child was—never mind.”
“Her daughter is six years old. That would put the child’s birth about the time Elizabeth had gone on her European tour seven years ago.”
“How clever of her to conceal the child,” Spencer raged.
Dyer inwardly smiled and laid more kindling on the fire. “The news has become even more salacious. In the wake of the totality of the shocking news, the duke has cried off in a public manner and is packing with his family to go back to England.”
“What the hell am I going to do?” Spencer gave a rough, unbelieving laugh.
Careful, Rawlins. Play your cards right and you’ll have Elizabeth in your grasp. Dyer took a long, drawn-out breath. “I have a solution that will quell everything.”
Edward pounded his fist on the desk. “Impossible. This is a mess beyond repair.”
“I have an interest in Elizabeth’s welfare. I’ll care for her. She’ll want for nothing. I’ll adopt her daughter. No one will dare speak ill against you or me, the two most powerful men in New York.”
Edward’s burly eyebrows knitted together. “Are you asking for Elizabeth’s hand? After her indecent behavior?”
“Yes. I will overlook everything. To protect her and the reputation of the Spencer family. We have been friends for a long time, Edward. It is the least I can do.”
Spencer clenched his fists, attempting to synthesize Rawlins declaration. “Interesting idea.”
Dyer exuded calm and focus, a lifetime skill in negotiation. “I know you are contemplating the age difference. Elizabeth is an intelligent woman, and I find her a perfect match. I’m an old bachelor and seek a younger spouse to give me children.”
With Edward’s mind spinning, Dyer quelled the urge to tap his toe. Nothing was so exhausting as indecision…or so futile.
“All of this has been thrust upon me. I need time to think.”
Despite Dyer’s machinations to destroy Elizabeth’s reputation, she remained her father’s cherished treasure.
Dyer came prepared. To sweeten the transaction to conquer Edward Spencer’s black heart, he said, “What would you say if I give you the northern railroad crisscrossing the top of the state that you have desired for so long?”
“That’s something to think about,” said Edward as he reached into his drawer, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, two glasses and poured himself and Rawlins a drink. Slowly, Edward sipped.
Rawlins could see the wheels in Edward’s head weighing his options.
Not a man given to making snap judgments, the financier paused, reflected and practiced thoughtful analysis.
He tilted back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid, those fierce intolerant eyes focused on Dyer.
Edward was a man trapped and angry. He needed a way out.
There was nothing so raw as the ebbing of numbness; that silencing force suppressing a volcanic spew.
A savage wind blew against the high office window.
Identical to Edward’s regard, Rawlins Dyer was drawn to the beveled glass that rattled in its leaden frame.
Morose clumps of oily clouds slicked the sky in an oppressive growl.
Thunder cared not for submissiveness. Lightning cared not for serenity.
The storm bequeathed a percussion of rain on rooftops, spewing out gargoyles’ macabre mouths.
Both men turned from the window, two leviathans, their gazes locked.
A game. Who blinked first? Edward’s eyes glittered.
Lovely, insatiable greed, the lust for that railroad he had coveted for so long.
The sword in the banker’s guts, twisted by his own hand, his grasping screech like the howling wind that snapped and clawed against the house.
Dyer allowed the silence to tease Spencer’s empathy deficit. Dyer set his glass on the desk, held his hands palm up, shifted to leave, a gesture that flaunted consequences of delay lead to missed chances.
Imperiously proud, Edward studied him over his glass. “You’d be amenable to signing the railroad over right now?”
The callous could be curtailed. Edward was a businessman. If he was going to sell his daughter, he’d want it in writing.
Dyer removed the deed from inside his coat and splayed it on the desk next to the damning headlines, taking his time smoothing out the folds, the sought-after railroad a feast for Edward’s gaze.
Edward reached for his pen, dashed it into the ink decanter, ink spilling in droplets as he hovered the instrument over the contract. He gazed at Dyer. “You will have a care for her?”
“Haven’t I always been in her attendance? I have a great fondness for Elizabeth.”
Edward scrawled his name and handed the document to Dyer. As predicted, Edward had surrendered to the old pursuit, the product of seeing all sides of every disaster, and most significantly, profiting from the crisis.
Edward rang a bell. A butler appeared. “Bring my secretary and Mrs. Spencer to me at once.”