Arthur looked back at the well-dressed people making their way down to the pier and didn’t answer.
A moment later, a cluster of white men and women got off close together and there was Wesley. He stood straight-backed and strong as always, none of the travel-stained weariness or pallor of seasickness lingering on many of the other passengers. He was perfectly dressed, with a black homburg hat over his light brown hair, his expression as cool and dispassionate as it had been the day Arthur had said goodbye and left for Spain with Jade.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me.”
He slipped through the crowds until he was at the bottom of the ramp. Wesley had traveled with a small entourage who followed him down the ramp, couples and friends Arthur recognized from his own time in London. Wesley was scanning the crowd, and Arthur knew the minute he’d been spotted when gray-blue eyes widened.
“Arthur.” There was an actual flash of emotion, too quick to read, and then it was gone, Wesley straightening as he stepped off the ramp and in front of Arthur. “I got the telegram on board that you would be picking us up, but I confess, I wasn’t going to believe it until I saw it for myself.”
What on earth was proper etiquette for a situation like this? Handshake? Manly shoulder pat and a brusquegood to see you, old boy? After a split-second hesitation, Arthur kept his hands behind his back. “Hello, Wes.”
They held each other’s gaze as Wesley’s party disembarked around them, their eyes nearly level, their clothes nearly identical.
Christ, they were like mirrors.
Another voice interrupted the moment. “Sir, will you be needing anything for your drive with your friend?”
Arthur glanced at the man at Wesley’s side, an average-sized white man with brown hair and a vacantly polite smile. He was standing slightly behind the other man, dressed smartly but not as finely. Not a friend, then. Arthur didn’t recognize him, so perhaps he was new to Wesley’s staff. Arthur probably should have expected Wesley to cling to old traditions and bring a valet to America.
“No, Chester.” Wesley’s tone was dismissive. “I trust Mr. Kenzie has handled everything.”
Arthur faked a smile. “I’m sure we’ll survive the fifteen-minute drive,” he said dryly.
“A Kenzie, eh?” said a voice from Arthur’s side. “Any relation to our congressman?”
With a start Arthur realized the reporter had followed him to the ramp. Wesley’s eyes darted to the man, and Arthur could see Wesley doing the calculations he’d done, the notepad in hand, the way the man was leaning forward to catch their words.
“Or what about the alderman?” the reporter continued. “Rumor is, Alderman Kenzie’s not waiting for your dad to retire, he’s got his eye on the Senate. Any comment on that?” Without waiting for a response, he added, “Or a comment on your fancy guest? Governor’s got folks here for a wedding, you going to that?”
The man was practically breathing on Arthur, but before he could come up with a polite way to tell the reporter to go away, Wesley cleared his throat. “Chester, give the man appropriate details. Arthur, where is your car?”
Irritation rose in Arthur. Would have been nice to have Rory around, someone who understood how little Arthur wanted to talk politics with a reporter and have even a word of his own business given to the papers.
But then, the reporter probably would have wanted to know who Rory was, and Arthur’s association with Lord Fine was far easier to explain.
Arthur shook his irritation off. He made appropriatehellosandwell metsto the others who’d come from London with Wesley, then gestured at the street, where several cars were parked to transport guests and luggage to the Waldorf. “We’re ready for you.”
The others in Wesley’s party turned toward the curb, but Wesley himself pointed to Arthur’s car in the line of black vehicles. “Is the red one yours?”
Arthur loved the red Cadillac. He’d wanted one first in college, then while he was in the army, and then Europe. The car had been the one thing he’d bought for himself when he’d come back to America. “Yes. Why?”
“It’s just loud, wants attention,” Wesley said dismissively, already walking toward it without waiting for Arthur. “It’s so very you.”
Arthur sighed. Same old Wesley, all right.
Chapter Nineteen
From the library, Jade and Rory went upstairs to the family dining room behind the red curtain. Dinner was just getting underway, and the kitchen had given Rory something to eat, some kind of white steamed bun full of flavorful meat. Zhang said it was Arthur’s favorite. Rory was inhaling it.
“How’s Ace?” Rory asked, as he swallowed his mouthful. “Should I go scry his brother’s office tonight?”
“Perhaps. Jianwei didn’t find anything but maybe you will.” Jade lowered her voice. “Although, to be quite honest, I’m not convinced Alderman Kenzie is the real target.”
“Then who is?”
“Did Arthur tell you what he nearly dreamed last night?”
Rory gritted his teeth. No, of course Arthur hadn’t. “He mentioned his brother but not any dreams of his own.”
