Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Five

"Experiences! That is what I finance, Miss Kilbrierry!" The eccentric millionaire who had just kissed Emily's hand a shade too long, waved his hands about, as though to point out the dozens of experiences awaiting them around every corner of his exquisite home. "Experiences! I wish to entertain, enlighten, and educate the people of New York City, and I cast a wide net. I have heard about you and Mr. Narciso from a contact in Rome."

With a slight cough, Emily clarified, "It is only me at present, Mr. Vanderberg. Mr. Narciso is still in Ireland."

"Ah. I see. Yes. Well, there are arrangements for violin."

"Indeed there are. I can send—"

Mr. Vanderberg waved his hand about again, this time brushing away the pesky question of musical scores. "I'll do it. I shall fund your concert through the Philharmonic Society. I must find a way to make more of a production of it, but we will do it. Perhaps we can bring in a singer."

Emily's heart leapt. She would most likely be free of Giancarlo with the payment Mr. Vanderberg proposed, and she'd almost certainly be playing in the ambit of William Vincent Wallace. That was a thrill all its own, closer—but not close—to what she felt when she first met Giancarlo. A frisson of some unnamed emotion; but nothing more. The emotion certainly wasn't love—Emily had never been in love, but she was sure she would know it when it came upon her—but it was not pure lust, either. And lust, she knew intimately, especially after her months with Giancarlo.

"You will remain in New York for the Season, your father said?"

"Yes, Mr. Vanderberg. I cannot thank you enough. I am overwhelmed by the—"

"Of course, of course. I'll have someone be in touch." Mr. Vanderbergdrifted away without further acknowledgment, as only the richest people in a room would do.

Maausa clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "That is excellent, Emily. Exactly what you'd hoped."

"I thank you for the introduction."

"Indeed you do not, for he asked me for the introduction, when he heard me say your name at our club. I brag about you everywhere I go, you see."

"That is ridiculous. You mustn't go about making me into someone more important than I am."

"How can you say so when he had already heard about your concerts in Europe?"

"Yoohoo! Lord Rookscombe!" A shrill, frilly voice stalked them from the left flank. Emily stiffened, but Rook put on a not-forced-enough social smile.

A woman of a certain age bustled over. Her face held echoes of the beautiful debutante she must have once been, but had been papered over with the wages of a hard life lived on the edges. Her body was all angles, from her knife-like cheekbones to the jut of her right hip to the turn of her foot showing off her clock-stockinged ankle and the diamond buckle on her shoe.

"Mrs. Van Heusen. How lovely to see you." Maausa bent over her hand, but didn't kiss her fingers. Still, he did not have to pretend the pleasure at seeing her. "It has been entirely too long." With a glance at Emily, he added, "I have just been so busy preparing for my family to join me. Arranging the house and such."

"Yes, I heard some of your family joined you. But not the baroness."

Emily bristled. Maausa had told her about this woman, and the timbre of his voice when he did set Emily's hackles up. Recently a widow, she was looking for someone to ride the edge of decency with her, to make up for a decade with a boor and a nincompoop. Maausa had poked fun at Didi Van Heusen, saying she was only good for a man's ego, not the rest of his life. But of all the people he had met in New York, hers was the first name on his lips. It is a quick trip through the ego to the loins. Emily felt sorry for her, of course, but that woman wouldn't test the decency of her Maausa if Emily could help it.

"May I introduce my daughter, Emily Kilbrierry."

Mrs. Van Heusen gasped, nearly swooned, and only managed not to choke on her indignation. "Your daughter! Why... you never said... Oh, my Lord Rookscombe, this will not do." Conversation within earshot had quieted. She moderated her tone to a stage whisper, which could easily be heard across the quiet room. "You cannot introduce a darkie into the social season. And if your daughter looks like this..." she swept her hand in a gesture from Emily's necklace to her shoes, "... your wife must be..." She shuddered. "She cannot truly be a baroness, can she? Are there not laws?"

Rook just stared, as though he hadn't quite understood what she said. Emily felt the heat rising in her face, but couldn't decide if anger or humiliation was transcendent. Anger. Definitely anger. She risked everything if she told this woman off in public, not least the lucrative contract she hadn't yet signed with Mr. Vanderberg, but she couldn't let this go unanswered. She had taken too much of this treatment in Ireland. And everywhere else.

"Mrs. Van Heusen, perhaps you are not aware—" she began.

"What's this, Didi?" Mr. Vanderberg piped up before she could go any further. "You have no authority to decide who can and cannot be introduced anywhere, most especially my residence. Miss Kilbrierry is here as my especial guest, an internationally acclaimed virtuoso and daughter of a British lord, who will shortly perform as a soloist with the Philharmonic Society. I will not have her disparaged for any reason in my home, least of all something so irrelevant to everything as her skin colour. Now, since I am the only person with the authority here, you may take your leave of us, Mrs. Van Heusen. It think it quite clear Lord Rookscombe will not be your next conquest, and I am quite certain you were not invited by me."

Rook nodded decisively, but was not so cruel a man as to rebuke her in public. Now the flush stained Mrs. Van Heusen's cheeks.

"Bertie, your eccentricity will be your ruin. No one would begrudge you keeping a darkie mistress, now that Alice has passed, but running around with them in public will be the end of your custom. That sort of 'experience' isn't one anyone needs."

"Thankfully, I can afford a loss. Remove yourself before I forget you are a lady and throw you out on your bony ass."

Rook finally found his voice. "You may thank blazes my wife is not here to give her opinion, for she has no mercy when anything threatens her children, and I have precious little. I suggest you do as he asks and leave, because if there is one thing I know, it is the make-up of a proper lady. You, Mrs. Van Heusen, are not one, and I find myself willing to defend my daughter's good name with swords or pistols."

Mrs. Van Heusen did as she was bid amidst enough whispers to cause a hurricane, followed by a small handful of other guests—smaller than Emily expected given all current and historical evidence. With only a glance over Mrs. Van Heusen's shoulder as she stalked out, Emily knew she'd made her first New York enemy.

"Maausa, While I applaud you sending that woman away, I cannot think you should have made such trouble—"

"As though you weren't on the verge of making such trouble yourself! Ha! If Mr. Vanderberg hadn't spoken up, you'd have turned New York on its ear. Admit it."

With a smile, she inclined her head. This man knew her so terribly well. "I am honoured you took up my cause before I said something regretful."

Rook kissed her on the temple, squeezed her shoulder, and said, "I will always take up for my daughter."

A few minutes later, Mr. Vanderberg raised a toast to her and gave her a private wink, which told her she'd made her first New York friend.