Josephine squealed. “Oh, how charming! I absolutely must see you in a cap—”
A crash shattered the peace of the hall just outside the ballroom, startling the musicians into a moment of painful discord.
“Oops,” said a familiar voice, tight with anger. “Didn’t see you there.”
Arthur’s heart leapt as he clenched a fist, relieved and irritated at the same time. “Excuse me,” he said to the gasping partygoers, and hurried out into the hall. A silver tray of canapés was overturned on the marble floor, and a woman with a blond bob had Rory by the collar.
“What have you done, you clumsy brat?” She gave Rory an angry shake. “I don’t have lollygaggers or incompetents on my staff. You can show yourself straight to the door without pay—”
“Surely you wouldn’t sack your waiter for a simple accident?” Arthur snapped, barely restraining himself from physically removing her hand from Rory.
Rory’s eyes went to Arthur, defensive and angry, and that didn’t bode well. But at least the woman dropped Rory’s shirt like it’d burned her.
“Begging your pardon, sir.” She plastered an immediate, sycophantic smile on her face. “But he’s made a terrible mess—”
“Messes can be cleaned,” Arthur said flatly. She began sputtering more apologies, but he ignored her and took Rory by the arm more gently than she’d manhandled him. “Come along,waiter, let’s make sure you didn’t get hurt in that fall.”
He tugged Rory about halfway down the wide hallway before he hissed, “We aretryingto stay unnoticed. You just got the attention of the entire ballroom—”
“Mansfield’s pal, the one with the knife,” Rory whispered heatedly back. “He’s here and all his attention was onyou.”
“What?” Arthur spun around, dragging Rory with him. He looked all up and down the hall. “I didn’t see him. I don’t see him now.”
Rory looked too, then swore, too loudly and in Italian, making several well-dressed heads turn in their direction. “He’s gone.”
So much for subtlety. Arthur pulled Rory over to an alcove behind a shiny, full-size suit of armor. He clasped Rory’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“’Course I’m not hurt. I crashed into him on purpose.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “Youpurposefullycrashed into Mansfield’s henchman—”
“You bet I did.” Rory jabbed Arthur’s chest with his finger. “I saw himkill someoneand he was staring right at you. You think I was gonna just stand by?”
“Neverrisk yourself to protect me,” Arthur said heatedly. “I can take care of myself—”
“Unless you’re too busy flirting.”
Arthur dropped his grip on Rory’s shoulders and drew back. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t see him.” Rory’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes too bright. “’Cause you were too busy flirting with the world, half of Fifth Avenue’s skirts on your arm.”
“I was busy looking foryou,” Arthur snapped. “Thoseskirtsare friends of my sisters—you can’t possibly be jealous.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Rory scoffed bitterly. “Street rat’s got no business being jealous of the classy dolls on your level—”
“That isnotwhat I meant.”
Heads were turning in their direction. This was not a conversation for public—this was how rumors started—but how could he let Rory go on believing that?
“I meant that you can’t possibly be jealous because there is nothing to be jealous of.” He lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “I likemen.”
Rory wrapped his arms around himself defensively. “I’m not so stupid I missed that.”
“You’re not stupid or any of that other rot you’ve said.” Arthur took a breath. “Onlymen. I love women as friends, as sisters—but I onlylikemen.”
Oh, Rory’s mouth formed.
“Yes,oh,” said Arthur. “And if I was too distracted to see Mansfield’s henchman, it was because I was worrying aboutyou.”
