That was quite a speech,” Justine said.
“It was more than that. He practically blackmailed those four gentlemen to match his donation or else.”
Justine frowned. Blackmail? Granny was being dramatic. Mulligan had issued a challenge to those men, but that was no blackmail threat. “No, that was not what he meant.”
“My dear, I have lived long enough to read between what is said and not said. A man like Mulligan must have damning information on nearly everyone of consequence in this city. If it suited his purposes, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it any way he saw fit.”
“I do not doubt it. But, why on earth would he care? Why threaten anyone here at the fundraiser tonight? What would he possibly hope to gain?”
“Clearly he hopes to gain the one thing he’ll never have: you.”
More fluttering in her chest. “That’s absurd. We are acquaintances, nothing more.”
“After tonight, it had better not even be that. I do not want to see you hurt. And your father will never approve.”
“I hadn’t planned on seeing Mulligan again. You do not need to worry about me. I’m hardly Mamie or Florence.”
“That is precisely what worries me. For all their wild ways, your sisters are able to handle themselves in any situation. You are more thoughtful, more reserved. More trusting. I wouldn’t like anyone taking advantage of you.”
“Trusting and reserved do not equate with weak, Granny.”
“True, but you must admit that Mulligan is beyond the bounds of what your father or mother will tolerate. There are limits, Justine—and he is one of them.”
“I have no interest in him that way.” Her tongue felt awkward, the words sounding flat. Still, she soldiered on. “You are worrying for nothing.”
Granny patted Justine’s knee. “Good. See that it stays that way.”
Jack prowled the length of his office, restless despite the late hour.
He’d left the opera house directly after his speech. The reasons for the speech were complicated. He had no desire to dig deeper as to why he’d felt it necessary, especially when no one had asked such a thing of him. No, like an imbecile he’d volunteered.
But he’d hated the way they treated Justine for bringing him there. Recalling the look on her face after being snubbed made Jack want to punch the wall. God, he hadn’t felt this violent in years. Thought he’d buried it under his bespoke suits and fine manners.
In that moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to protect her. Soothe her. To hold her close with one hand while he ripped the offenders apart with the other. He hadn’t experienced the feeling since his mother died. Hadn’t even thought himself capable of it again until now.
Until her.
How could anyone ever find fault with her? Jack might have seen the lioness underneath the silk and pearls, but as far as everyone else knew, Justine was good, obedient and pure. Selfless and caring. An altruistic angel. Certainly better than her father, who’d inherited most of his fortune then earned the rest through means both fair and foul.
Oh, but when the criminals lived above Forty-Second Street, they were called tycoons.
Jack had seen them in the crowd tonight, the men he knew from years of doing business in this city. They might not recall their misdeeds—but Jack did. He remembered the ones who’d come to him for help, or the ones who’d begged forgiveness. Cheaters and thieves, murderers and swindlers. They might dine with Mrs. Astor, but they were no better than the men locked up in the Tombs. These Knickerbockers just had the funds for better lawyers.
He blew out a long breath and tried to collect himself.
Anger was a dangerous emotion, one he worked hard to suppress. Anger clouded a man’s head. Took away his ability to reason. Jack prided himself on remaining cool no matter the situation. It had kept him alive more times than he could count.
He rolled his shoulders. This was ridiculous. He’d have a beer and get to work. Soon, he’d relax and forget all about earlier tonight.
Striding to his office door, he found Cooper standing guard at the top of the stairs. “Have some beer brought up, will you?”
“Sure thing, Mulligan.”
Five minutes later, Cooper returned with a bucket containing ice and several bottles of Jack’s preferred lager. He set the whole thing down on the sideboard. “Want a glass?”
“What am I, an animal? Yes, a glass.”
Cooper placed a bottle and a glass on Jack’s desk. As Jack poured, Cooper said, “Brady is downstairs, waiting to talk to you.”
Brady was the man assigned to