Magnate by Joanna Shupe Read Free Book Online

right?”
    â€œFine. Emmett,” she snapped quietly.
    He let out a short noise, and she suspected it might be a laugh, albeit a rusty one. Sort of like the hinges on a door long gone unopened.
    â€œYou wanted me to make a fool of myself.” She swallowed the rest of her champagne, and her head swam. How many times had her glass been refilled?
    â€œNo,” he said. “I wanted to point out the absurdity of continuing to call me Mr. Cavanaugh.” His face softened, and her chest expanded with giddiness. Goodness, he was attractive. Little wonder why actresses fell at his feet.
    â€œI have another question for you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Why hide behind a man’s name when you start your investment firm? You’re a Sloane. I’d think you could do anything you pleased and no one would deny you a thing.”
    The comment nearly caused her to chuckle bitterly. He’d be surprised how much she was denied, because of both her station and her gender. Even if women were welcome on Wall Street, none of them would be from the old families of New York society. Young unmarried ladies of Lizzie’s set could never do what they pleased. Nevertheless, this venture could not fail—the future of the Sloanes hinged on it—so if employing subterfuge for a short time helped her succeed, she would not hesitate.
    â€œWomen with my background are not supposed to work. We’re bred to support a husband and run a household. It’s exactly as you first assumed, that my life has not prepared me for more than parties and dress fittings. But I need to do more—I can do more. Society will come to accept it, after I’ve proven myself.”
    â€œSo the investors will believe the advice you’re dishing out is from me?”
    â€œNot quite,” she said. “They merely need to believe you’re invested in the financial success of the firm. That I have your ear. I’ll do the rest.”
    A shadow fell over their table. “Hello, Lizzie.”
    Lizzie drew back swiftly and found Henry Rutlidge standing unsteadily at her side. His eyes were rimmed red, and his slick, brown hair was mussed. Not to mention, he reeked of spirits. Was he inebriated? “Mr. Rutlidge. You know Mr. Cavanaugh, I assume.”
    â€œEvening, Cavanaugh.” Henry gave a jaunty salute.
    Emmett’s lip curled. “Rutlidge.”
    â€œHere I was at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,” Henry slurred, “having drinks, when my friends and I decided to pop over here for dinner. Could hardly believe it when I heard you were here, too—and with Cavanaugh, no less. I said, ‘I’ve got to go and save Lizzie from that bouncer! ’” He turned to Emmett. “No offense intended, Cavanaugh.”
    Emmett downed the remaining champagne in his glass. “Oh, no offense taken.”
    Lizzie frowned at both the insult from Henry and the barely restrained loathing from Emmett. This could be very bad, indeed. “I am fine,” she told Henry quietly. “I do not need rescuing. Mr. Cavanaugh and I are merely having dinner. Perhaps you should go home, Henry.”
    He suddenly clutched the table. “Whoa. The room has started to spin. Do you feel it, Lizzie?”
    â€œYou’re drunk , Rutlidge,” Emmett enunciated slowly. “No one feels it but you.”
    â€œCome on, Cavanaugh. You’re no stranger to the drink.” Henry leaned close to Lizzie and spoke in a stage whisper. “He lived in the Old Brewery for a time, I heard. Ran with a gang. A regular b’hoy, he was.”
    â€œThat would be a feat, considering the Methodists took over the building a few years before I was born,” Emmett said dryly. “But I’m certain I could remember a trick or two from my days downtown, if you’re interested in following me outside.”
    Oh, for heaven’s sake. The last thing they needed was a brawl in the middle of