the very least, why not take a maid or one of the grooms? Someone else to serve as a chaperone.”
“The only people who care about chaperones live above Thirty-Fourth Street. I am perfectly fine downtown during the day.”
The crowd suddenly quieted and Justine glanced at the stage. She sucked in a harsh breath. Mulligan was walking across the stage.
Mulligan was onstage. Striding across the wood and rays of light like he owned the place.
What on earth was he doing?
She covered her mouth with her hand, too shocked to move. Her grandmother leaned in. “Is that Mulligan? What in heaven’s name . . . ?”
When he reached the center of the stage, he gave the crowd a dazzling smile. “Bonsoir, mesdames et messieurs. Good evening. My name is Mr. Jack Mulligan.” Someone in the audience gasped loudly. Jack merely chuckled. “It appears some of you may have heard of me.” He looked around dramatically. “Is this not the Bowery Theatre?”
Guffaws erupted throughout the audience, everywhere except the Greene box.
Then he gestured toward Justine and her grandmother. “Thank you to the Greene family for allowing me to come tonight so that I may speak about the legal aid society and their importance to the citizens of downtown Manhattan. You see, newspapermen like to focus on the fantastic stories that sell papers. They would have you believe that below Fourteenth Street lies nothing but sin and immorality, dirt and violence. They won’t tell you about the young girls who are forced to work in factories. Or, the mother who sews by candlelight to make ends meet for her family. The boys who work around the clock shining shoes and selling papers. The husbands breaking their backs on the docks and in the slaughterhouses.”
He paused and looked around the audience. “But I will. I see these people every day. I know their names. These are good people, decent people. Many have come here from faraway places, hoping for a better life. They live in one- or two-room flats, often with three and four to a bed. They work hard, but they may not know our language or customs as well as we do.”
Justine could see where he was going with this. It was a stroke of brilliance. Brazen, too. Who would have ever thought he’d do such a thing?
“That is why the legal aid society is so important. Mr. Tripp and his team of lawyers are able to help our city’s residents with tasks that would otherwise elude them. This is not just about funding a criminal defense in case of arrest. This is about helping those with unfair landlords and cheating employers. Completing job applications and citizenship papers. And”—his gaze locked with Justine’s—“even locating husbands who have deserted their wives and families. It is about sticking up for those who have been wronged yet lack the means to procure justice on their own. So tonight, we ask for your assistance. The legal aid society must remain free of politics and the heavy hand of the city’s government. This means they rely exclusively on private donations to operate.”
Every person in the audience was rapt, watching Mulligan with unwavering concentration. Intermissions were normally loud and chaotic. This one was quiet, with Mulligan commanding the room. A crusader for the underprivileged. Justine knew he was magnetic and had a powerful presence, yet it was glorious to see it on such broad display. And for such a good cause.
Warmth slid through her, a slow spread of heat that stretched and filled every part of her. Her breathing picked up, her chest rising and falling, and her breasts pushed against the cage of her corset. She could feel her heartbeat between her legs, and hear the blood rushing in her ears. The fan in her hand did nothing to stem the blaze inside her.
She might not be his type, but right now, at this moment, Mulligan was very much her type.
“And so I ask you, the very brightest jewels of New York society, won’t you open your hearts and your billfolds? I myself have donated fifty thousand dollars. I wonder if any here could match that donation. Mr. Cavendish?” He pointed to a box on the second tier. “Mr. Bryce? Mr. Irvin? Mr. Randolph? I look forward to hearing of your generosity, and the generosity of everyone else tonight. Thank you for listening, and now on with the performance.”
With a carefree grin, Mulligan strode to the wings. Polite applause ripped throughout the cavernous space.