Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(27)

“You may call on me at the museum next week. Good night.” She began to walk away, but he blocked her path.

“That’s enough, now, Hadley. I’m—” He stopped mid-sentence when a shadow darkened his face.

“I believe she said good night.” Lowe stepped from behind her and menacingly towered over Oliver. “And now I’m saying the same. Go on back to the party or go home. Just go.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Did you escort the lady to the party?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then you aren’t leaving with her, either.”

Oh my.

Oliver stuck his finger out, but seemed to have second thoughts about whatever he’d intended to argue. His forced smile seemed to mask whatever he was feeling. “It was enlightening to meet you, Mr. Magnusson. I look forward to crossing paths with you again. Good evening, Miss Bacall.”

She watched Oliver march down the sidewalk until he got inside a parked car, unsure whether she was relieved or angry. She threw a mental die and decided on angry. “You didn’t need to chase him off. He was only concerned about my well-being.”

“Didn’t sound that way to me. Here. It’s cold as hell out here.” Lowe held out her black mink. Why did he have to be the considerate one of the two men? Still, no sense in turning it away. She quickly slipped her arms inside the silk-lined sleeves.

“Is this your hat?” He held out an elaborate feathered thing. Garish red.

“Good God, no.”

“Didn’t think so, but wasn’t going to waste time arguing with the doorman.” He hung it on a nearby fence post bordering someone’s yard and shrugged into his own coat. “If it makes you feel better, the staff lost my hat, too.”

“No, what would make me feel better is if you just hadn’t lied to my face with all your seductions in the courtyard before you colluded with my father to steal my damn job!”

Her shouted words bounced around the quiet street. He should be grateful her specters had already exhausted themselves for the time being, or she might have been tempted to give them a second shot.

Lowe held up an index finger. “First of all, I told you I wouldn’t lie to you tonight, and I meant it. Second”—another finger joined the first—“I did not ‘collude’ with your father. He’d mentioned something about the department head position when I met with him at his office, but that was the last I’d heard of it.”

“A likely story.”

“Look, I was just as shocked as you. He didn’t even ask if I wanted a desk job.”

“You didn’t stand up and protest.”

“I didn’t have a chance!” Lowe shook his head, as if to clear it, then held up a third finger. “Lastly, you were the one seducing me.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever—”

“You touched me first. You gave me all those amorous looks.”

“I did no such thing! You pulled me into a shadowed corner. And half an hour later you Judased me in front of my peers! You humiliated me.”

“Your father humiliated you.”

“You both did.”

His head cocked. “And you . . . tried to kill us with that chandelier?”

Oh, God. She spun around and strode down the sidewalk. He followed.

“Helvete, you did!”

“That’s ludicrous.”

“Is it? Because I heard what your father said. And I caught some of Mr. Moneypants’s conversation just now. I know a quake when I feel one, and this, Miss Bacall, was no earthquake. Hell, now that I’m thinking about it, I never could figure out what happened with those windows that broke on the train when that thug was chasing us. And then in the baggage car.”

“You’re mad.”

“But not stupid.”

“Please just leave me alone.”

“I’m not abandoning a woman on a dark street in the middle of the night.”

“It’s eight o’clock and we’re in a perfectly safe neighborhood. I told you when we met, I want to be treated like a man. Equal. Not like some frail doll with the brain of a pea. Not hysterical.”

“Hey, that was Moneypants’s word, not mine. But all right, I’m game. You’re a man. Fine. Makes things a bit confusing for me when I consider all the lurid thoughts I’ve been entertaining about the two of us, but what the hell—I’m worldly. Suppose I’m open to new experiences.”

Lurid thoughts. About her? A renewed thrill wove through her erratic thoughts. God, why did she even care? All she needed to focus on was the fact that her bastard of a father had betrayed her, after months of praising her work in front of the board. After years of telling her how smart she was, how capable.

Well. Not capable enough to dig in Egypt. He’d made that clear on numerous occasions. Women had no place in the desert. And when she’d argued that her mother had accompanied him, he said allowing her that liberty was the biggest mistake of his life. No amount of discussion changed his mind. So she gave up on that dream.

Now this one was crushed, too?

But Lowe swore he hadn’t known. Did she believe him? And really, when she stopped to think about it with a clear head, wasn’t the more important question why? Her father was getting what he wanted from Lowe already—the djed. And it’s not as if Lowe had been on his radar before the amulet’s discovery. She’d only heard the Magnusson name in passing.