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Robert had a difficult night and felt tired the next day. He had remained at the ball, hiding in the back, until Becca’s parents took her home. Once she began to accept requests to dance, she hardly left the floor. Stephan might have been the first but he wasn’t the last. Robert was going to need to look at Mr. Connelly more closely, as he had now become an obstacle to what Robert wanted.
Afterward, he decided to go to an exclusive club to relax. He had given up drinking when he was forced to leave New York, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the other activities that accompanied it. He sat down at a table to play cards and didn’t walk out until it was almost morning, with his pockets full. He managed to grab a few hours of sleep and a clean suit before going out to call on Becca. Luckily his well-trained butler had coffee for him while he changed.
“Robert, so good to see you enjoying the daylight.”
His mother’s voice cut through the haze of his sleepy thoughts as he lounged on a bench in Madison Square Park.
“You shouldn’t be surprised, Mother,” He stood up, towering over his petite matriarch. “You are the one who sent me the invitation to join you any time I’m awake.”
“I assume you are still awake from yesterday?”
“What gives you that impression?”
Robert looked down at his dark brown suit, which was perfectly pressed. His vest was tucked into the jacket with precision and buttoned up correctly. There were no stains or wrinkles on the white shirt under that either. Nothing to give away he had been up all night.
“It’s the dark circle under your eyes,” she said to him, reaching up to brush his cheek tenderly, but having to stretch to do so. “I know that you attended a ball last night, which was also a surprise.”
“Are you having me followed? Spied upon?” He chuckled. “Do you have one of the footman hiding in the bushes taking notes of my doings?”
His mother smiled at his joke. “I could find out by simply reading the society pages. You have been the main story every day since you returned.”
“I should be flattered.”
“You did always like to get attention.”
“It’s hard to live in the shadow of your older brothers.”
“Then it looks like the sun out West was good for you.”
He missed this. He missed the witty banter with his mother. She had always understood him so much more than his father did. Maeve always claimed that he took after her. That his flair for the dramatic was something she shared with him. She was the only person who wrote to him while he was in Kanas, the only person that cared.
“You have changed so much,” his mother continued. “You have become such a fine man.”
Looking into her bright green eyes, he didn’t want to tell her the truth. He didn’t want her to know the kind of darkened soul he had become. Let her believe that he came back a better man then when he left.
“The society pages must not be reporting everything,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.
“Oh, I know about some of your more scandalous behavior. Young men enjoy their vices.”
He had a hard time imagining his father, or his older brothers for that matter, doing the same things he enjoyed. Taking people’s money at the card tables, or getting too drunk at the club. Chasing women who were below their station. Not caring if they hurt people’s feelings. Seeking revenge against a woman.
“You shouldn’t read those parts of the story, Mother. It’s better not to know.”
He gave her wink, and she giggled like a woman half her age. It reminded him of when he was a child. He was always the one who could make her laugh.
He glanced over her shoulder and saw the person he was hoping to find, strolling down the walkway. She was in the company of her mother as well, but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem.
“Isn’t that a friend of yours?” he asked his mother, pointing to where the O’Hare ladies were approaching.
As expected, his mother waved them over. Becca’s lips were twitching, wanting to laugh at something.
“Did you get a good night’s rest?” she asked, covering her eyes from the sun to look up at him.
Apparently he looked more bedraggled than he thought.
“It is taking some time to adjust to being back in the city,” he said. “Sleep is easier to find in the quiet of the country.”
“Weren’t you in Kansas City?” Mrs. O’Hare asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Yes, but only briefly. I spent the majority of my time on a ranch in the empty countryside.”
That must have been a good answer, because she didn’t ask any more questions. He had one he wanted to ask.
“Would you ladies mind if I took Ms. O’Hare for a short walk over to look at the flower man’s cart? I saw some that I was thinking of putting in my hotel lobby, but would like woman’s opinion.”
The flower vendor was far enough that the two of them could have a private conversation, but still within sight of their mothers. He saw Mrs. O’Hare hesitate for a moment. She looked at him closely, judging his eligibility no doubt. He wasn’t worried.
“Oh, let them have a few moments to talk. They haven’t seen each other in such a long time.” He was grateful for his mother’s assistance. She managed to convince Mrs. O’Hare when he couldn’t. She looked so much like her daughter, with the dark hair and stern, sharp features. He could guess that was going to be Becca’s future. The woman nodded her head in approval.
“You didn’t think to ask me if I wanted to look at the flowers?” Becca said as soon as they were out of hearing for their mothers.
“I assumed you would.”
“Men assume too much.”
Robert missed a step and stumbled. “Have I done something to offend you?”
Becca was smiling but the emotion wasn’t reflected in her eyes. She was looking ahead, at no one in particular, but had a sharpness to her glare.
“Has someone else offended you?” he asked hesitantly, worried he might be asking for too much.
“My father thinks he can order me to do his bidding.”
That didn’t sound like the Mr. O’Hare he remembered. “What do you mean?”
“He has invited numerous young men he does business with to dine at our house. He expects me to be a charming hostess to them.”
“Are they obnoxious?”
“I haven’t met them before. When they come to dinner will be the first time.”
“Then why do you object to being polite?”
Her head snapped sideways so that now her glare was focused on him. “I object to being forced to perform for them and play the part of perfect wife. He is hoping to show them I would be perfect for the role.”
“Any man would be lucky to play the part beside you.”
Her eyes softened slightly, and he felt a surge of victory.
“You have earned the art of flattery while you were away,” she said.
“I only speak the truth.”
She didn't say anything else, but he could see the hint of a smile go across her lips. They were at the flower cart. She was looking at the flowers, and he was watching her. This felt very familiar to him.
“I think you need more daffodils and tulips in the hotel,” she said, keeping her face buried in a bouquet of flowers. “Everyone talks about the roses, but forget that there are so many other beautiful flowers.”
“The roses are the most beautiful.”
She pulled her head up enough to gaze at him over the petals of blue tulips. “Not everyone see beauty the same. You should offer variety.”
He almost forgot what they were talking about because he was watching her lips so closely. They were soft and pink, speaking slowly and caressing the words, He could only think about them doing the same to his skin in all kinds of private places.
“Do you enjoy variety?”
For a moment he completely forgot about the flowers and thought her words were meant for something else. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the variety he could introduce her to.
“Robert?”
Hearing her say his name pulled him away from those thoughts and reminded him where he was. She was looking at him with a wrinkle between her eyebrows.
“Thank you for not calling me Bobby,” he said, distracting his thoughts. “So many people refuse to stop using that name.”
“I can see enough of a change in you, that you are almost a new person.”
“So you no longer see me as the boy I was?”
She shook her head and gifted him with a smile before returning to the flowers. A noise behind him made Robert turn, but he saw no one standing there. He tried to focus on the task at hand, or at least the one he told Becca they were about.
Robert couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He knew that people were curious about him, but this felt more intense. He swiveled his head around, looking to catch the watcher among the vendor carts. About ten feet away he saw a bowler hat duck out of sight and knew that was the culprit.
“Stay here,” he told Becca, hoping she would listen for a change.
“You are giving me orders now?” She put a hand on her hip and narrowed those blue eyes on him.
“I am thinking only of your safety.”
“Are we in danger?”
“I don’t know, which is why I want you to stay here.”
She opened and closed her mouth, as if trying to decide how to argue. He didn’t have time to wait. He stepped around her, toward the cart he last saw the man duck behind. He managed to go around the cart and found a young man in a badly wrinkled suit, crouched over and scribbling in a notebook. He grabbed the man by the back of his cheaply made jacket, hauling him around to the front of the cart and into plain sight. Becca caught up to them, but wisely chose to stand close to Robert.
“Mr. Donovan? Mr. Robert Donovan?” the young man asked, pushing the brim of his hat back to get a better look at Robert, who at least a good foot taller than him.
“Yes.”
“The youngest of the Donovan boys?”
It bristled him to still be called a boy. “I’m the Donovan you are looking for. What do you want?”
The young man pulled at the bottom of his jacket, which was slightly wrinkled and at least two sizes too big. He straightened himself up and offered Robert his hand. Robert looked at it, unsure if he wanted a handshake from a stranger hiding in the bushes.
“I’m a reporter for the –“
“Let me stop you there,” said Robert, interrupting the poor boy. “It doesn’t matter which paper sent you after me. I have already said I wasn’t going to give any interviews.”
“Yes, but if you would just give me a few minutes –“
“To do what? Get mud on my suit?” Robert gesture with his hands were his shoes and his pants cuffs had brown dirt on them from chasing the boy through the brush.
“No, to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not answering any questions. Now we are done.”
Robert turned, prepared to let the rascal go, but the young man was persistent. He stepped in front of Robert, using his thin arms to block him from leaving. The bowler hat tilted forward, over the shaggy brown hair beneath, and cast a shadow over the young man’s brown eyes. There was a bit of dirt on his face, probably from his other hiding spots while following a story.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” the young man said. “My editor insists that I get something for him to print. He will sack me if I return empty handed.”
Robert started to tell him that it wasn’t his problem if the boy got fired, but then someone else interrupted.
“What harm could it do to answer a few questions?”
Robert knew it would be as simple as that. He had dealt with the newspapers before, when he was younger. They always printed the worst parts of a story.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time today,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Too busy courting one of the fine society ladies?”
The boys asked that with a hopeful expression, his pencil pressed to his notebook.
“Ms. O’Hare, perhaps? Two old family friends finding love.”
Robert heard Becca gasp and he gave the young guy a shove, making him stumble on his feet.
“I’m here for business, nothing more. I’m not pursing anyone romantically.”
“Yes but...” The reporter let his big brown eyes shift back and forth between the two of them and decided not to finish his thought. “I can how busy you are. I apologize for interrupting your day.”
Robert knew he wasn’t sincere in his warbled apology, but he decided to let the boy go.
“Robert, thank you,” Becca said. “I know you didn’t want to let him go, but losing your temper would have only upset our mothers.”
Robert had forgotten about his audience, so wrapped up in his attention to Becca. He looked over and found both mothers were watching him with concerned expressions. He didn’t feel like facing his own.
“Please let them know I am late for a business meeting,” he said to Becca.
She gave a weak smile and nodded. She had always known when he needed to escape.