Stovall chuckled. "Really, the man's incredible. If he didn't have such a grip on so many minds, baiting him would be amusing. Under the circumstances, I view it more as a public duty."

Thus far he'd hardly taken notice of Amanda. She was trying to breathe evenly, maintain a polite but none-too-interested expression.

"I wonder if there's a city ordinance prohibiting a baboon from dressing in a man's clothing," Stovall went on. "If not, there should be-and it ought to be enforced against Mr. Douglass. However, I do apologize for making my presence known to you so clumsily, Mrs. Ludwig."

Stovall's words carried a faint sarcasm that robbed them of any sincerity. He turned to a man twenty years his junior hovering at his elbow.

"May I present my secretary, Mr. Jonas? Jonas, this is Mrs. Rose Ludwig-"

"Ah, yes, one of the bloomer ladies," Jonas replied, his eyelids drooping briefly. He had an effeminate face, and pink, pouting lips.

Stovall turned to Amanda. "I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with your companion, Mrs. Ludwig."

Amanda felt her cheeks must be red. To be so close to the man who had made Jared suffer was almost unbearable. She wanted to strike at his face- She fought the irrational impulse. She tried to appraise Hamilton Stovall without emotion, as she would a business adversary. It was obvious he had once been exceedingly handsome. But his exposed cheek had a purplish, blotchy look. What little she could see of his hair was pure white. His teeth were so perfect-and so yellow-she was certain they were false. Their artificial uniformity gave him a sort of a skull's grin. His glittering brown eye seemed to spike into her mind, drawing out all her secrets- Foolish! Get yourself under control! He doesn't know who you are- Rose remedied that in an instant. "Amanda, let me introduce Mr. Hamilton Stovall. This is Mrs. Amanda de la Gura."

Stovall's good eye blinked. But it was young Jonas, standing unusually close to his employer, who spoke first. "Indeed! So you're the free-thinking lady who tried to buy Kent and Son!"

Amanda's stomach hurt. "Yes, I tried to buy it. The rest is your judgment, Mr. Jonas."

Stovall's eye held hers. "I'm fascinated to make your acquaintance at last. Of course I regret it was impossible for me to accept your offer-I could have put the money to excellent use. But I simply couldn't turn the firm over to someone whose views are so far removed from mine. Misguided, if you don't mind my saying so-" He obviously didn't care if she did. "I might even go so far as to call them dangerously radical."

Hoping she sounded sufficiently calm, she replied, "Making you aware of those views was my error, Mr. Stovall."

"You're quite correct." The yellow-tinged teeth glared in a fixed smile. But his eye held no humor.

"Of course I wasn't aware you had informants at the firm."

Stovall dismissed it. "Oh, one must-to protect one's own interests."

Abruptly, Jonas asked, "You're from California, are you not?" Amanda's stomach quivered again. Stovall had checked into her background.

"I am." She gave them no more to work on.

But Stovall refused to quit. "Why in the world would someone with substantial mining and textile holdings-"

He knows that too.

"-abruptly decide to venture into book publishing?"

"I was searching for a way to diversify. A publishing house seemed a sound investment."

"Yes, I do recall hearing some such explanation from the gentlemen who acted on your behalf. I find one thing odd, though."

"What's that?"

"I'm not aware that you've attempted to buy another book firm. Was Kent's the only one in which you were interested?"

Amanda hedged. "At the time we negotiated-yes."

"The fact is, you've bought no other properties at all-at least under your own name. Forgive me, but it's almost as if you had some reason other than a business one for wanting Kent's."

"That's purely your speculation, Mr. Stovall."

"I admit it. There could be no personal basis for your interest, could there?"

"None."

"We've never met before-"

"Never."

"Well"-he shrugged-"I must be wrong."

"A rare occurrence with Mr. Stovall," Jonas informed them with a smug smile.

The outrageous flattery pleased the older man, though. He touched Jonas' gloved hand in an almost affectionate way. Then he said to Amanda, "Financially speaking, I really wish we had been able to reach an agreement. Publishing is a risky enterprise-another circumstance which makes me wonder why you chose it for diversification. I have very little interest in the firm, actually-only in what it earns. I never wanted the company except as the means to an end. But perhaps you don't know the story. I assumed ownership many years ago as a result of a sporting wager-"

Amanda heard Rose's sudden intake of breath. Stovall's brown eye watched her for a reaction- Or did she just imagine that?

"-and a desire to see the founders, a clan of wild-eyed Boston mobocrats, put out of business." He licked a snowflake from his lower lip. "The heirs of a Mr. Gilbert Kent. Despicable people."

Amanda's lips pressed together. She was trembling. Hands clenched tight inside the muff, she was conscious of both Stovall and Rose watching her closely. She hoped she hadn't given herself away- "I know nothing about them other than the name, Mr. Stovall. I've spent most of my years out west."

"Of course," he murmured. "Well, there's no need for civilized folk to quarrel over an aborted transaction-" He patted the secretary's arm. "Jonas, be a dear chap and see what you can do to hurry the carriage."

The secretary started for the curb. He whistled and motioned. Again Stovall touched his top hat.

"Mrs. de la Gura-Mrs. Ludwig-my distinct pleasure."

His good eye raked Amanda as he turned away. Did he know more about her than he was revealing?

No, that was impossible. Outside of her immediate household, only Rose, William Benbow and Joshua Rothman knew she was Gilbert Kent's daughter- A man blocked Stovall's route to the carriage door which Jonas was holding open. Stovall lifted his cane and prodded the man with the ferrule. "One side!"

The man, much less elegantly dressed, whirled around. "Who the hell are you poking with-?"

"You, my shabby friend. It's quite obvious you couldn't afford a private carriage-while mine's waiting just there." Stovall pulled the gold-headed cane close to his chest, as if ready to lash outward with it. His voice had a savage note in it. "If you want to be impudent, I'll give you impudence that'll lay you up for a week!"

The man glared, then shifted his glance to the cane head. Amanda couldn't see Stovall's face, but the other man obviously had a good view of it-and it intimidated him. Stovall's voice was equally intimidating with its unmistakable suggestion of violent temper held in check.

The man stepped back.

Hamilton Stovall climbed into the carriage. Jonas touched him, apparently to assist him on the step. Then the carriage door slammed. The driver whipped up the matched grays and the vehicle lurched off.

Amanda watched it until it was completely hidden by the wind-driven snow. I blundered, she thought. After the Kent negotiations fell through, I blundered by not covering myself with another purchase-immediately.

And had she reacted too visibly to Stovall's remarks about the family? That worried her most of all; she might well have given herself away-or at least aroused his suspicion to the point where he'd think about making further inquiries. Perhaps even in California- That's too far-fetched, she decided.

But was it?

Abruptly, she realized Rose had spoken to her. The stout woman repeated what she'd said. "The carriage is at the curb. Do you want to go home? Or just stand here all night?"

She glanced around. The lobby had finally emptied.

"I'm sorry-certainly, let's go."

She was conscious of Rose scrutinizing her as they hurried outside.

ii

The city of New York looked almost beautiful this February night, covered as it was by fresh snow.

New York's population had climbed to almost three-quarters of a million people. A construction boom was steadily pushing the northern boundary toward the Croton Reservoir at Forty-second Street. Tonight, the ugliness of an expanding city of rich and poor-its unfinished buildings, its piles of uncollected refuse, its free-roaming herds of pigs and cows-was hidden by the wind-blown whiteness.

The streets were empty for a change. It always seemed to Amanda that half the city's inhabitants must be Irish-and indigent. They were forever loitering on the main thoroughfares. In some areas ruled by the immigrants, a lone woman-or a lone man who wasn't Irish, for that matter-dared not walk after dark. Michael Boyle, who would be waiting for her at home with the late afternoon's business matters yet to discuss, was a product of one such festering district, the Five Points.

The inside of Rose's carriage was ice cold. Or was the coldness within her? She couldn't escape an uneasy feeling about her reaction to Stovall's mention of the Kents.

Lamps and gaslights in passing buildings lit the carriage interior from time to time. The wheels jolted into a rut in the unpaved street. The driver whipped the team. The carriage lurched. Rose swore, singeing her glove on the locofoco she'd been trying to apply to the end of a cigar.

When the cigar was lit, she slid a window down and tossed the charred match into the storm.

Amanda felt questions were imminent; perhaps some of her own would forestall them.

"Rose, you spoke about Stovall's wife once. When did she die?"

"Oh, let's see. Early in fifty, I believe. She came of a good family. Baltimore-precious Hamilton's own city."

"When did he marry her?"

"Years ago-and only so he could use her family's capital to shore up his steel business. Or so I've been told."

"He has no heirs-isn't that right?"

"None."

"And I assume his wife died of natural causes-"

"That was the story-publicly."

"What do you mean?"

"I heard a whisper or two that it was suicide."

Amanda smiled without humor. "Perhaps she found out Stovall's not quite so respectable as he pretends to be."

Thoughtfully, Rose puffed out smoke. The thick blue cloud made breathing difficult.

"Well, he does admit to a few vices. He drinks a good deal. He's been known to gamble heavily. But if you removed everybody who does either one, New York would have a population of approximately forty-six. I had a peculiar feeling about, that Mr. Jonas, though. I wonder if he's something more than a secretary-"

"He might be Stovall's lover."

"That was exactly my suspicion."

"There's evidence to support it."

"What evidence?"

"Michael goes back to the Five Points now and again," Amanda explained. "To visit some of the friends he knew when he worked on the docks. There's a story circulating about Stovall to the effect that he occasionally takes a little holiday with some people on Mulberry Street. Under another name."

"Who does he visit?"

"A young whore-and her brother. I gather they're all part of a-call it a triangular relationship."

Rose shivered. "My God. I fancy I'm liberal about a lot of things, but I don't care to know any more details of a sordid situation like that!"

"Maybe Stovall's wife caught a hint of it-"

"Perhaps." Rose nodded. "Stovall's tony friends didn't, I'm sure. I've heard nothing like that about him. If he prefers male companions instead of female-"

"I've been told there are some who like both."

"Well, you can be sure he'll be careful no one can prove it. Any more than people can prove your relationship with Michael Boyle's something other than business."

Aghast, Amanda said, "Do they accuse me of having Michael for a lover?"

"Naturally! I've told you-the ruining of reputations is a popular sport of some of our finer citizens."

"I didn't realize I was sufficiently well known to merit that kind of attention."

"In a little over a year, my dear, you've made the city very much aware of your presence. You'll still never crack that so-called social barrier we've discussed before-but a rich, good-looking woman who owns gold in California and part of one of the most successful textile companies in the northeast is grist for the conversational mills of society."

"I had no idea there'd been filthy talk about Michael-"

"Well, my God, he is good-looking. He is your private clerk-and you did give him a room as well as a position."

"He's a bright young man. Why shouldn't he have a better place to live than the slums? I'm disgusted about the stories-"

"Oh, stop." Rose chuckled. "At least Michael's the right sex-which can't be said for Mr. Stovall's employee. Stovall will have to give that up if he's serious about marrying again."

"Marrying! That, I hadn't heard."