for yourself."
"I don't give a damn about people like you, Miss Van Alen . I never have." He eyed her coldly. The walking stick tapped a muffled staccato on the thick carpeting as he left the fire. "But you cannot convince a sixteen-year-old girl that people like you are meaningless. You and your cronies are gods to my little sister, who's too young and naive to know better. So for now, if she wants you, I'll truss up the lot of you and serve you upon a platter if I have to to make her happy."
She sank to the chair, pulling aside her damp bustle. A tiredness seeped into her limbs, and for a moment she wearily lowered her head.
He watched her, a gleam of triumph lighting his eyes. "Are we through? May I send my carriage around to take you to your home, Miss Van Alen ?"
His voice had a finality about it that sparked one last flame within her. She raised her head, and anger gave her the strength to continue. "No, we're not through." She got to her feet and faced him, this time without the safety of the desk between them. "I must make you understand, Mr. Sheridan, how important it is that you make reparation in my case. You've wrongly taken my money, money that I need quite desperately." She hoped she was being strong enough. To make her point, she tipped her head back to look him in the eye, now realizing how short she was compared to his great height. She was shocked at how he intimidated her.
"You're not the only Knickerbocker in straitened circumstances," he answered easily. "Why should I help you?"
She opened her mouth to say "Because of my sister" but stopped herself. Instead she stared imploringly into his eyes. "I have to have it. Others depend on that money. Others not so fortunate as you, or even I."
"Mr. Baldwin Didier?" He stepped to his desk and picked up another paper. "Ah yes, that's the name of that gentleman who was so kind as to leave you on my stoop. Is he not so fortunate as we? I must tell you, I wouldn't have guessed that, especially when he left you in the rain tied to my banister."
His words appalled her. She began shaking again, and something terrible inside her burned when she thought how Didier had humiliated her. But her uncle wasn't the only one responsible for her downfall.
She met Sheridan's amused eyes. "I must have my money, Mr. Sheridan. It was unfair of you to take it from me, and I promise you I won't leave here until I convince you to return it."
"Well, I'm sorry, Miss Van Alen , of the Petrus Stuyvesants and Thirty-eight Washington Square, you'll have to do better than that to convince me." He leaned on the baroque edge of his desk.
She felt as if she were falling into a great vat of oil, that if she didn't grab something quickly, she and her sister would drown in it. Impulsively she reached out and grasped the satin lapels of his waistcoat. "See here, Mr. Sheridan," she gasped, "I'm sorry for Mara. Truly, heart-wrenchingly sorry! But my God! What is it that's made you perform this act of insanity? We all have those we care about! We can't ruin everyone who might have slighted them!"
Anger hardened his expression. He looked away and said, "For some uncharacteristically foolish reason, my sister believes your set worthy of her company." He turned back to her, and the vengeance in his expression took her breath away. "Mara is a beautiful, warm, and caring young lady. The Knickerbockers will accept her, or I'll use my last gold coin and my last dying breath to see that they do."
Alana was left almost speechless. Sheridan's ferociousness to protect his sister stunned her. If she weren't careful, Alana knew, she'd be lucky to retreat from this man unscathed.
Calming herself, she changed tack. Softly she said, "Both of us would benefit greatly if we could change the situation. You must see that, Mr. Sheridan. Yet the fact is the Knickerbockers don't like you, and whether the reasons for that are right or wrong, we both have to live with them." Despite herself, she began to plead, "So I
"I don't give a damn about people like you, Miss Van Alen . I never have." He eyed her coldly. The walking stick tapped a muffled staccato on the thick carpeting as he left the fire. "But you cannot convince a sixteen-year-old girl that people like you are meaningless. You and your cronies are gods to my little sister, who's too young and naive to know better. So for now, if she wants you, I'll truss up the lot of you and serve you upon a platter if I have to to make her happy."
She sank to the chair, pulling aside her damp bustle. A tiredness seeped into her limbs, and for a moment she wearily lowered her head.
He watched her, a gleam of triumph lighting his eyes. "Are we through? May I send my carriage around to take you to your home, Miss Van Alen ?"
His voice had a finality about it that sparked one last flame within her. She raised her head, and anger gave her the strength to continue. "No, we're not through." She got to her feet and faced him, this time without the safety of the desk between them. "I must make you understand, Mr. Sheridan, how important it is that you make reparation in my case. You've wrongly taken my money, money that I need quite desperately." She hoped she was being strong enough. To make her point, she tipped her head back to look him in the eye, now realizing how short she was compared to his great height. She was shocked at how he intimidated her.
"You're not the only Knickerbocker in straitened circumstances," he answered easily. "Why should I help you?"
She opened her mouth to say "Because of my sister" but stopped herself. Instead she stared imploringly into his eyes. "I have to have it. Others depend on that money. Others not so fortunate as you, or even I."
"Mr. Baldwin Didier?" He stepped to his desk and picked up another paper. "Ah yes, that's the name of that gentleman who was so kind as to leave you on my stoop. Is he not so fortunate as we? I must tell you, I wouldn't have guessed that, especially when he left you in the rain tied to my banister."
His words appalled her. She began shaking again, and something terrible inside her burned when she thought how Didier had humiliated her. But her uncle wasn't the only one responsible for her downfall.
She met Sheridan's amused eyes. "I must have my money, Mr. Sheridan. It was unfair of you to take it from me, and I promise you I won't leave here until I convince you to return it."
"Well, I'm sorry, Miss Van Alen , of the Petrus Stuyvesants and Thirty-eight Washington Square, you'll have to do better than that to convince me." He leaned on the baroque edge of his desk.
She felt as if she were falling into a great vat of oil, that if she didn't grab something quickly, she and her sister would drown in it. Impulsively she reached out and grasped the satin lapels of his waistcoat. "See here, Mr. Sheridan," she gasped, "I'm sorry for Mara. Truly, heart-wrenchingly sorry! But my God! What is it that's made you perform this act of insanity? We all have those we care about! We can't ruin everyone who might have slighted them!"
Anger hardened his expression. He looked away and said, "For some uncharacteristically foolish reason, my sister believes your set worthy of her company." He turned back to her, and the vengeance in his expression took her breath away. "Mara is a beautiful, warm, and caring young lady. The Knickerbockers will accept her, or I'll use my last gold coin and my last dying breath to see that they do."
Alana was left almost speechless. Sheridan's ferociousness to protect his sister stunned her. If she weren't careful, Alana knew, she'd be lucky to retreat from this man unscathed.
Calming herself, she changed tack. Softly she said, "Both of us would benefit greatly if we could change the situation. You must see that, Mr. Sheridan. Yet the fact is the Knickerbockers don't like you, and whether the reasons for that are right or wrong, we both have to live with them." Despite herself, she began to plead, "So I
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