“It has come in handy over the years, especially when I need to speak without others understanding what I am saying. Did you study French in finishing school, as all good society girls do?”
“No. Florence was kicked out of finishing school so my mother hired tutors for our education.” This had allowed Justine to pursue volunteer work with the city’s charities, rather than suffering in a stuffy classroom with girls who only cared about the latest fashions and using the proper fork.
“Why am I not surprised?” Mulligan muttered. “You know, you are different than your sister. More self-possessed. Sure of yourself.”
The compliment caught her off guard, so she immediately dismissed it. “Oh, you’re wrong. Florence is the bravest of us all. She never cares what anyone thinks.”
“There’s a difference between knowing who you are and putting on a show to the rest of the world.”
“You think Florence is putting on a show?”
“I’m positive of it. I never understood why, though.” He took a long sip of his beer. “You, on the other hand, are exactly as one sees. There is no pretense or artifice with you.”
He was right. She’d never seen the point in pretending to be someone other than herself. “I merely want to help people. Anything else is a waste of time.”
“And Billy Ferris? Was he a waste of time?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. How on earth had Mulligan learned of Billy? She’d last seen her former beau eight months ago. Was Mulligan looking into her background? She put her fork and knife down on the plate with a snap. “That is none of your business—and stop having me investigated.”
“There’s no need for concern. I mean you no harm.”
“That’s hardly the point. You are invading my privacy. My debt to you does not give you the right to spy on me.”
“I like information, Miss Greene. I like to know the people with whom I deal.”
“We are not in business together. Our association will end the second I repay your favor.”
“Yes, but there’s no telling how long before that happens.”
Incensed, she ground her teeth together. The man talked in circles, justifying his actions through whatever means necessary. “I believe you are enjoying this.”
“You would be right. I daresay I haven’t enjoyed anything as much in a long time.”
“Bully for you. Wipe my debt clean, Mulligan. I won’t tolerate being followed and harangued.”
“Buying you lunch is hardly haranguing you. And the streets are not safe for a lady. Perhaps I am merely ensuring your safety.”
The arrogance was astounding. She’d been working in the city’s seedier neighborhoods for almost five years now, where she handled her own problems and had never suffered any serious harm. “I need no keeper. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Indeed, I do not doubt it. The boys at the club cannot stop retelling how you thwarted that robbery attempt when you first came to see me. The story has only added to your legend.”
She remembered the boy who’d appeared out of the shadows on Great Jones Street. “Do you know him?”
“We found him later that day. He won’t attack another woman, not in my neighborhood.”
She frowned, contemplating the meaning behind those words. “What did you do to him? I swear, if you hurt him—”
“Calm down, chérie. He’s new and needed to be taught the rules of my territory. But he lived to tell the tale to others.”
To spread the word: no violence toward women. Mulligan wouldn’t tolerate it. She wanted to ask him why. She had this insane desire to ask him countless questions about his background and life. She wanted to know him.
And that terrified her.
She shouldn’t wish to spend time with him, to learn intimate details about his life. The more she discovered, the more she liked . . . and that was dangerous.
She had clearly lost her mind. A bit of rest and sauerbraten had gone to her head. This had to end.
Reaching inside the small purse clipped to her belt, she withdrew some bills and slapped them on the table. She met his curious blue gaze. “I’ll buy my own lunch, thank you. And you’ve learned enough about my life. Stop having me followed. If you don’t, I’ll make you regret it.”
Without waiting for his response, Justine stood and dashed from the restaurant. Lunchtime was over.
Ignoring Rye’s shocked expression, Jack tossed money on the table and rushed out of the Hoffmans’ saloon, hurrying after Justine. “Wait!” he called to her back. She didn’t pause, merely continued walking downtown.
Damn it.