Understatement. Clayton Madden was like Jack, only without the charisma, charm and good looks. Though Clay had given up his enterprise for Florence Greene. “I’m not afraid of your father, if that’s your concern.”
“Nor am I. The worst is they might ship me off to a convent in Europe.” She shrugged. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“It wouldn’t?” It sounded like hell on earth to him.
“They perform a lot of charity endeavors. Not to mention that convents are peaceful and pretty. I’ve considered it.”
“You considered joining a convent? Taking of the vows, the celibacy?”
“Why are you so surprised? It wasn’t until recently that I even knew what I’d be missing.”
He didn’t begrudge any woman for answering a higher calling, but Manhattan without this clever do-gooder trying to save it? Unthinkable. He began gathering her skirts in one hand, exposing her legs.
“What are you doing?” She tried to push the cloth down and he stopped to explain.
“I plan on making you come at least once during this journey. In the interest of showing you more of what you’d be missing, of course.”
“Oh.” She moved her hand. “Show away, then.”
Jack spent the rest of the ride with his hand between her legs, the joy of her non-celibacy ringing in his ears.
Chapter Seventeen
Justine knocked on the door of salon number twenty-five inside the Hoffman House Hotel. Male voices could be heard arguing inside. After a few seconds, she knocked again, louder. The door opened and a man appeared, frowning at her. “Who are you?”
“We wish to speak with Mr. Keller.”
“Again, who are you?”
“Miss Greene and Mrs. Frank Tripp.”
The man scrutinized Justine then Mamie. “Hold on.” He closed the door with a snap.
“You owe me ten favors in exchange for this errand,” Mamie whispered.
“Fine,” Justine answered with a roll of her eyes. “Just be quiet. I shall do all the talking.”
The Hoffman House Hotel was one of the very best in the city, where famous actors and English dukes came to stay. It was also where Tammany men gathered to plot and scheme their stranglehold on New York City politics and business.
Through one of the attorneys at the legal aid society, Justine learned that Mr. Keller, second-in-command at Tammany Hall, handled the appointments for the police department. It also happened that Keller convened every afternoon inside a Hoffman House salon for a long business-related lunch.
Justine hadn’t bothered trying to get an appointment. Keller certainly would not have agreed to meet and catching him unaware, before he had time to form a counterargument, seemed a wiser plan.
“I don’t like how secretive you are being,” Mamie hissed.
Justine hadn’t told Mamie anything about today’s errand. First, Mamie would have tried to talk her out of it. Second, Mamie would have told Florence, who would have tried to talk Justine out of it.
Still, she hadn’t wished to come alone. Keller might’ve made assumptions about an unmarried woman alone that were completely wrong. She might ignore propriety to suit her purposes downtown, but there were times when acting the part mattered.
Today was about presenting Miss Justine Greene, daughter of Mr. Duncan Greene, as a serious candidate for the New York City Metropolitan Police Department.
She had considered asking Jack to come with her, but immediately rejected the idea. She could do this on her own. For years, she had been looking after herself. Merely because he kissed her from time to time didn’t mean she could trouble him with every little problem. He likely had a thousand problems every day. She refused to burden him with more of hers.
They hadn’t yet discussed where things stood between them. She liked him—quite a bit, actually—but he was just a friend. Not that he’d asked for more, but she wasn’t ready for something serious. Perhaps in a few years. Their encounters were fun and satisfying . . . and that’s all she let herself dwell on at the moment. Worries were for another day.
She cut her eyes toward her sister. “Relax, it is nothing dangerous.”
“Is this related to some case at the legal aid society?”
“Not directly.”
“Remind me to strangle you when we leave. I swear, I’m never doing another errand with you unless I know—”
The door opened once more and the same man appeared. “Come in.”
Justine stepped inside the salon, where a group of six men were gathered. Cigars were being extinguished, whiskey tumblers set aside. All of them stood, but only one man walked forward. He was short in stature, a beard setting off his dark eyes.