Had Honor known she was going to inherit all that?
And anyway, if he was her father, why was her last name the same as his first? Vivian didn’t know much about how being a bastard worked. As far as she knew, her mother had been married to her father before he died or ran off, or at least Mae Kelly had pretended that was the case. The one neighbor in Vivian’s building who had known Mae, and who had kept Vivian and Florence from being split up before they were sent to the orphan home, had always said she went by Mrs. Kelly.
Vivian’s head hurt just thinking about it. She’d just have to ask Honor, was all. Even if she didn’t want to share… well, after all that, after knowing what she had kept from Vivian when she refused to help, Honor owed her that much.
The sound of a car horn honking made Vivian jump. At the cornerin front of her, a sleek black motorcar had just pulled up, its sides so freshly polished that Vivian could practically see every hair on her head reflected in its side. The driver unfolded himself from the front seat and walked around to meet her.
Vivian stared at him. He returned the look with as much emotion as a boulder might show—fitting, as he was the size of a small, hulking mountain. Vivian recognized him.
“What’re you doing here, Eddie?” she snapped. “Gonna spend your day beating on girls half your size?” She didn’t quite flinch away from him, but she did take a step back.
The first time she had ever seen Eddie, he was doing his best to beat the hell out of Danny in a back alley, though Danny had been the one to come out of that fight still standing.
The second time, he and a friend had cornered her, threatening to rough her up unless she told them what they wanted to know until someone else showed up and scared them off.
It was impossible to stare up at his broad-shouldered bulk without feeling something like terror. Vivian didn’t think he’d do anything here, in broad daylight on the Upper East Side. But the people streaming past gave him wide berth, and they didn’t give her a second look. If he hustled her off somewhere more private, no one would stop him.
“Boss wants a word,” Eddie rumbled, looking unbothered by her accusation.
Vivian took another step back. “I’ve got nothing else to say to her.”
Eddie ignored her, turning to open the car’s back door and stepping to the side.
“Please don’t waste my time, Miss Kelly,” Hattie Wilson said, looking bored as she examined her nails. “You may get in on your own, or Eddie will put you in. Your choice.”
Vivian thought about pointing out that, once again, it wasn’t actually a choice. But there was no point. Eyeing Eddie warily, she scooted into the car. When the door slammed shut behind her, she pressed herback against it, trying to keep as much of the wide back seat between her and Hattie as possible.
Hattie watched her with a small smile on her face, as if enjoying Vivian’s obvious discomfort. Her fur stole was laid across her lap, rather than around her shoulders, and a black portfolio rested on it. But she hadn’t taken off her hat, and in the inconsistent light that flickered in through the windows, the veil cast eerie shadows across her face.
“Well. Did you listen in?” Hattie asked as the car pulled away from the curb.
Vivian wanted to watch where they were going, but it seemed more important to keep her eyes on the woman sitting across the seat from her. “I did,” she said, trying to sound flippant and failing, even to her own ears. “Sounded like an interesting bunch. Hope you don’t all get together for Christmas or anything.”
Hattie made a softhmmof laughter, but it didn’t seem like it was Vivian’s attempt at a joke that amused her. “You didn’t know she’d be there, did you?”
Vivian thought about pretending she didn’t know what Hattie meant. But there was no point, really: both of them knew exactly who she was talking about. “No, I didn’t.” She let out a shaking breath. “You recognized her last summer, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Hattie said, nodding. “She looks like her father. You were there, if I recall. But she didn’t tell you then, did she? She forgot to mention that her father was an incredibly rich man, living right here in the city. I assume she also forgot to mention that he spent most of her life pretending she didn’t exist?” Hattie sat back, the fingers of one hand drumming in a soft, persistent rhythm against the portfolio’s leather cover. “Strange, that. Seems like it’s the sort of thing she’d want you to know… what with you being a suspect in his murder and all. And, if what I’ve heard is correct, with you two being soclose.”
“She’s my boss,” Vivian said firmly, even as her stomach twisted into a knot of worry. Honor had made it clear that people like Hattiewere one of the reasons she and Vivian couldn’t be together. And it wasn’t because they’d be scandalized or disapproving. Honor didn’t care about things like that.
But romance was a weakness, one she couldn’t afford to have in her line of work. Not when any day could put her at odds with folks like Hattie Wilson, who weren’t above using other people as tools to get what they wanted.
Honor hadn’t wanted to put Vivian in that position. Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to do it to herself. Vivian had never been sure, and she had been too afraid of the answer to ask.
Hattie gave another amusedhmm. “If you say so.”
Vivian clenched her jaw. “You don’t care that someone killed him, do you? He was part of your family, and—”
“My husband’s family,” Hattie said, her voice icy, all her amusement suddenly gone.
Vivian fell silent. They both knew what kind of man Hattie’s husband had been. And as much as Vivian disliked her, she couldn’t blame Hattie for that grudge in the slightest. “They were similar, then?” she said, her voice catching as she remembered her brief conversation with Buchanan. He had seemed like a kind man. But she knew how people could lie.
So did the woman in front of her.
After a moment, though, Hattie shook her head. “Nothing alike, as far as I know,” she said quietly. “Huxley was a decent sort of man.” Then, as if she’d allowed too much humanity to show through, her smile grew mocking once more. “He remembered me in his will, so I can’t complain about him that much, can I?” When Vivian didn’t say anything in reply, she leaned forward. “And you’re very much mistaken, Miss Kelly, if you think I don’t care that he was murdered. But when you’re in my line of work, you live in the present and the future, or you might end up dead yourself.”
Vivian wished she could read the thoughts behind those glitteringeyes. She’d feel a lot safer if she knew what Hattie Wilson was trying to get out of this conversation. But whatever Hattie was thinking, she had learned—long before she took over her growing empire—to keep it hidden behind a smile.
