Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Eighteen, Part 3

The New York press hadn't eased off, but at least they were more sympathetic. They still called after Julia whenever she crossed from building to carriage or back again, but their questions were friendly, and they reported her refusal to answer them in positive terms.

"Murderess's Sullen Silence" became "Lady Julia's Shy Dignity", and "Woman Flees Justice After Husband's Murder" became "Brave Lady Will Return to Clear Her Name". The more decent of the reporters monitored the behaviour of the others, after a suggestion from Gills that shouting and shoving might oppress a woman who had been the victim of an angry abusive drunken lout for a decade and a half. Gills hadn't felt tempted to punch a reporter for a fortnight.

They still followed her and Gills everywhere. Vandenberg was delighted. Press interest translated into articles, and articles translated into ticket sales, as Maddox and Emily were firmly connected in the public mind to the couple of the moment.

On the whole, Gills was pleased with the way a few judicious words had turned the tide of public opinion in their favour. Whether it would help or hinder in England remained to be seen, but it certainly made both Julia's and Emily's last few weeks in New York far pleasanter.

"Ah, Sir Galahad!" Gills winced when Vandenberg boomed out the greeting. Fortunately, none of crowd of other guests so much as blinked an eyelid, all intent on their own conversations at this soiree that Lord and Lady Rookscombe were throwing to farewell her daughter and her friends.

He took the whiskey Vandenberg offered him, and forced a cheerful grin. Julia didn't intend to embarrass you, you duffer, he reminded himself. In one of the rare interviews she had permitted, Julia had referred to him as "a Parfait Knight" and the papers had lapped up the image of the pure-hearted, gallant gentleman who served for honour's sake and worshipped his lady from afar. The chaps who knew Gills at home in England would wet themselves laughing, if they ever heard, and Coventon, Gills' brother, would... Gills wasn't sure what Coventon would do, but it wouldn't be pretty.

Vandenberg was too awake on all counts to miss Gills' reaction. "Don't poker up, young Gills. I'm just teasing. You've done a good job with the newspapers. More of a challenge in England, I'm thinking, but I back you for it. I have some names for you; people that might be useful." He handed over a notebook, and Gills checked several pages of names and addresses, each with a brief paragraph describing how Vandenberg knew them and what they might be able to do for Gills and Julia.

Some newspaper men, some in the entertainment world, a barrister, a couple of investigators. "You'll let me know how you get on," Vandenberg demanded. "And keep your eyes open for some opportunities. When you have the whole mess cleared up, we can start investigating what kinds of spectacle you and I can collaborate on."

Vandenberg had more advice and few cheerful anecdotes. Over his shoulder, Gills could see Stocke approaching Julia where she sat quietly, watching the party but not truly part of it. Maddox's brother had been pleasant enough, after the first fraught meeting when d'Alvieri was trying to stir trouble, but Gills' heartbeat ticked up a step when Stocke sat down next to her. He suppressed the urge to rush to the rescue, and tried to concentrate on what Vandenberg was saying.

Julia was smiling. What was that arse saying to her? If he offered her any insult, Gills would take him apart, brother or no brother. Not that she looked insulted. Far from it. "No need to be jealous," Vandenberg told him. "She hasn't any interest in Lord Stocke. You're the one she follows with her eyes."

"Not jealous," Gills mumbled. But he was. He was never jealous. He'd never let himself be. Not since his rare visits with his mother in his long distant childhood, when she'd cooed over the heir and ignored the spare, until he behaved so badly to get her attention that she banished him from her presence until the next visit.

Vandenberg gave him a shove. "Go and talk to her." Gills wasn't going to, but after Vandenberg left he found himself drifting closer, and he arrived at her side just as Stocke got up and walked away.

Julia turned her smile on Gills, and he couldn't resist grinning back. "Stocke says the Wakefield who runs the agency in New York has heard from his family, and they think they may have a lead that will help us," she said. "Wakefield wouldn't say what till they have more information, but he wanted us to know, since we're heading home tomorrow. We have allies, Gills. Isn't that wonderful?"

Gills agreed, smiling and nodding. He wished he'd been the one to bring her news that made her glow within. Rescuing Julia is my job. He almost groaned out loud at the thought. Sir Galahad, indeed.