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“Be that as it may, Mr. Manwarring, lunch was wonderful, but I have other engagements I must see to. And I’m sure you have to get back to work as well.”
“I cleared the rest of my afternoon to spend time with you.”
“How nice, but that is not a luxury I have today. I do have other appointments to attend.”
I didn’t look at him, I couldn’t. If I met his gaze, he’d be able to see the warring emotions behind my eyes. My carefully honed mask hadn’t slid into place as effortlessly as it usually did, and I wasn’t about to let him see me cry.
“Let me escort you back then.” He stood.
“That’s okay, I have business not too far from here, and I’ll just take the subway back.”
“The subway.” I could feel him start to get angry. “Why would you ever take the subway?”
“Because I’m a New Yorker,” I said like it was obvious.
“What business do you have? I could give you a ride and go with?—”
“Really, that won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly capable of handling my affairs on my own.”
“Amelia, you are testing my patience. Just once, can you behave?”
“Have a pleasant rest of your day, Mr. Manwarring.” I smiled and left the gallery.
He called after me, but the second I rounded the corner, I sprinted out of the museum and found a spot behind one of the columns, where I didn’t think I would be easily spotted, and waited.
Fewer than ten minutes passed before he stormed out of the building, his assistant trailing behind him. They got into his Town Car and left.
Now all I had to do was figure out what I would do to get even.
CHAPTER 21
AMELIA
Once I saw Mr. Manchild leave, I saw no reason not to go back into the museum to enjoy the best art collection in the country.
It would give me something to do while I tried to come up with a plan that would let me get back at him. At least I could try to level the playing field.
No, that wasn’t what this was about. We would never be even.
That wasn’t something a woman in this world could manage, but I could demand respect. I wanted to be seen as an individual, not as a decoration or a toy.
Who better to draw inspiration from than the greatest artists the world had ever known?
Honestly, I didn’t want to go back home until I had to.
So far, I had avoided my mother’s wedding plan conversations that were full of thinly veiled barbs. I was lost in thought, wandering around the Islamic art wing, marveling at the intricacies in the art, when a gold girdle clasp caught my eye. It was beautiful and inlaid with precious stones and intricate delicate carvings.
The little plaque said it was used not only as an accessory but as a safety net for the women who wore it. It was part of their dowry, but it didn’t go to the husband. It was meant to protect the woman who owned it. If she were to lose, or be left by, her husband, or was to leave, she could sell it and provide for herself and her children.
Wealthy women born more than three hundred years ago had been given more options than I was now, assuming the plaque was true. Would a wealthy woman three hundred years ago have been free to leave her husband? Or had they lived in the same gilded cage I did? With the illusion of freedom.
Most people looking at me from the outside would say I had options, choices. I didn’t, not really. Yes, I could theoretically sell off my jewelry and run away like the women who had worn this clasp might have, but what would I be left with?
How long would that money last? How long would a single piece of jewelry allow me to survive? What would happen to that woman if her husband came after her? How far away would she be able to get?
How far would a controlling man like Manwarring let me run before he hunted me down? Would I make it out of the country, or even the state? I doubted he would let me leave the city before he dragged me back kicking and screaming.
I was lost in thought considering what that meant when arms encircled my waist, and for a brief second, I was excited he had returned. Then I kicked myself for that instant reaction.
