The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(32)

“Is everything all right? Do you know that man?”

“Yes, that’s Mr. Clarke, an associate of my father’s. Apparently there’s some dispute over who owns this land.”

Mr. Jennis made a face. “Mr. Clarke isn’t exactly known for being on the up-and-up, you know what I mean? You’d be wise to stay away from the likes of him. Let your father deal with Mr. Clarke.”

That was an ominous warning.

“I will. Are you ready to return to our discussions?”

For the next five minutes, she and Mr. Jennis discussed her idea on the building design, and it quickly became clear they didn’t see eye to eye on the look of the museum. She preferred a more Beaux Arts style, which was all the rage, while Mr. Jennis insisted a classic Empire style would be more pleasing.

She frowned at him. “But this is a modern art museum, so it should reflect a modern style.”

Mr. Jennis’s expression turned patronizing. “Well, if you want to hire McKim, Mead and White to design it—”

“No, I’m not saying that, but if you’ve seen the Metropolitan or Harvard Club, that’s what I’m after.”

“That is not my style, Miss Delafield. I design in a classic Empire style for your father. If you don’t like it . . .”

He let the sentence trail, and she could fill in the rest. If you don’t like it, then that is too damn bad.

The familiar urge to apologize, to retreat, rose up in her chest—but she beat it back. This was her project, not Jennis’s, and she would not compromise. “Perhaps you could try it this once, as a favor to my father. He’s told me such wonderful things about you, and I would hate to have to explore other options.” But I will, if you don’t agree.

His upper lip curled into the hint of a sneer. “Miss, I’m a busy man with many prestigious projects. I don’t need to compromise my aesthetic for you. I think you should leave this to the experienced men who know design and buildings, the people who do it professionally.”

Uncertainty burned in the back of her throat. Perhaps she was out of her depth with this endeavor. She didn’t know the first thing about what it took to get a project of this scope off the ground. All she’d wanted was to honor her mother and her mother’s love of art by sharing it with the entire city.

Should she trust Jennis’s vision, shoving aside her own?

The idea didn’t sit well. It felt like compromising, just as she’d done for the last year while believing herself betrothed. She was tired of waiting and compromising, of not putting herself first.

Know your worth. Wasn’t that what Aunt Dahlia always said?

Preston stood by his carriage, arms crossed over his chest, watching her from under the brim of his derby. He was too far away to overhear, so she lifted her hand, beckoning him. “Mr. Clarke?”

His long legs carried him over, eating up the pavement beneath his feet. Then he towered beside Mr. Jennis as he inclined his head. “Yes, Miss Delafield?”

“What do you do when you and your architect disagree on a building’s design?”

Preston’s mouth curved in an annoyingly arrogant way. “We don’t, because I pay his salary.”

“Meaning, he agrees with your vision for the project.”

“Yes.”

“And if he refused?”

“Then I would find a new architect.”

She lifted her chin and regarded Mr. Jennis. “You’re fired.”

Mr. Jennis’s mouth dropped open, his mustache drooping dramatically. “I beg your pardon.”

“I’ll find another architect to work on the museum with me. Your services are no longer needed.”

Disbelief quickly morphed into anger, his voice growing tight. “You are firing me? Because this”—he gestured toward Preston—“hoodlum told you to?”

“No, he only confirmed what I was thinking. I don’t appreciate how you’ve treated me, Mr. Jennis. It’s clear you don’t wish to work on this project, and I’d rather find an architect who does.”

Jennis snorted. “This is a mistake, Miss Delafield, but I won’t argue, as I was only doing this as a favor, anyway. Good luck finding someone willing to take on your little museum.”

“I can think of at least three architects I’d recommend,” Preston said, giving Katherine a sly, conspiratorial grin.

She grinned back. “Excellent. I’ll take those names, Mr. Clarke.”

Jennis threw up his hands and started to walk away. Then he looked over his shoulder and gestured to Preston. “Oh, and I will be telling your father about this. Good day, miss.”

That dimmed a bit of her enthusiasm. Daddy would ask questions about her relationship with Preston, and she wasn’t ready to answer them.

I don’t have a relationship with Preston.

True. They weren’t even friends. According to Preston, unmarried men were incapable of friendships with unmarried ladies. So, why had he asked to buy her a drink today?

“How did that feel?” Preston asked when they were alone, his dark eyes dancing. “Good, I assume?”

She pushed aside the worry over her father and Preston’s motivation. “Very, very good.”

“I take it he was condescending and patronizing.”

“How did you know?”