could hardly eke from her chilled, trembling body, she reached out and crumpled the paper. When she straightened, she dared him to complain.
He looked almost surprised. One eyebrow lifted, and the first glimmer of interest sparked in those dark hazel eyes.
"Mr. Sheridan, we obviously have no need for an introduction," she said now that she had his full attention.
"That's true," he agreed with a dark little smile. "I've known who you are for some time. And now I expect you know who I am."
She didn't know why his words threatened her, but they did. She groped for the words that would extricate her from this mess. "In any case, I must tell you you've done a terrible thing here—"
"I ' ve done a terrible thing?" he interrupted, incredulous. He chuckled, and if she hadn't been so desperate, she would have picked up her train and left in a huff. "Let me tell you, Miss Knickerbocker, I've never hitched a woman to the front of a townhouse like she was a Broadway horse-car.
Too embarrassed to begin to address her uncle's hel-lacious behavior, she blurted out, "You've taken away the Van Alen money unjustly, Mr. Sheridan. And I wish to make you understand that. I must have my money returned."
A grim smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Your uncle has controlled your money for several years now. You dare beg for that . . . man?" he said as if he were having a difficult time characterizing Didier as a man.
"How do you know so much about me?" she asked in a small voice.
"Shouldn't I know you? You're society, after all. And isn't that the point of that little clique—to be exalted by the masses?" He almost laughed, "Well, madam, you should consider yourself honored. You've personally felt the fervor of my exaltation."
"I meant you no harm," she said passionately. "And in truth, I did you no harm, so I would like the money you took from me. I must have it."
"What do you mean you did me no harm?" He sat back as coolly as if he were discussing the day's trading.
She put both hands on his desk and leaned forward. "I mean that I would have attended your sister's debut but was restrained from doing so. Therefore, you must return my money. You've made a tragic error."
He laughed, a shockingly joyless sound. "Do you know how many times in the past weeks I've heard that, Miss Van Alen ? My God, I'd need an accountant to keep track of all the excuses."
"But in my case it's the truth," she said, sure she could make him believe her.
He only laughed harder. "There must be a mockingbird in this room. Doesn't the Manhattan aristocracy have any originality at all?"
"But I truly meant to attend," she answered, panic rising in her breast because he didn't believe her. "I wanted to attend."
A sardonic smile played on his lips. "Ah, finally something new. Congratulations, Miss Van Alen , you're the first one who's said that."
She shook her head, desperate that he believe her. "I met your sister Mara in the park several months ago. She'll tell you I wanted to attend. I believe she liked me every bit as much as I did her."
He lifted another paper from his desk, a long list of names, and he paused. "These are all the people my sister thought liked her. Do you know how many of them attended her debut?"
Sickened by what the answer might be , Alana said nothing.
Without a word, he rose and walked stiffly to the fireplace. He tossed the list into the fire, and as it burned, she saw his knuckles whiten over the gold top of his walking stick that he never seemed to relinquish.
Their eyes met, and she could hardly look at him for the fury in his gaze. "I know none of them came," she whispered, her heart aching for some inexplicable reason. Suddenly she was as desperate to soothe Mara's ills as her own. "But perhaps those people on that list are not worth all this trouble, Mr. Sheridan. Have you thought of that? And does Mara want you to do all of this? Cause all this trouble? I think not. So I wonder whether you're doing this for Mara . . . or
He looked almost surprised. One eyebrow lifted, and the first glimmer of interest sparked in those dark hazel eyes.
"Mr. Sheridan, we obviously have no need for an introduction," she said now that she had his full attention.
"That's true," he agreed with a dark little smile. "I've known who you are for some time. And now I expect you know who I am."
She didn't know why his words threatened her, but they did. She groped for the words that would extricate her from this mess. "In any case, I must tell you you've done a terrible thing here—"
"I ' ve done a terrible thing?" he interrupted, incredulous. He chuckled, and if she hadn't been so desperate, she would have picked up her train and left in a huff. "Let me tell you, Miss Knickerbocker, I've never hitched a woman to the front of a townhouse like she was a Broadway horse-car.
Too embarrassed to begin to address her uncle's hel-lacious behavior, she blurted out, "You've taken away the Van Alen money unjustly, Mr. Sheridan. And I wish to make you understand that. I must have my money returned."
A grim smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Your uncle has controlled your money for several years now. You dare beg for that . . . man?" he said as if he were having a difficult time characterizing Didier as a man.
"How do you know so much about me?" she asked in a small voice.
"Shouldn't I know you? You're society, after all. And isn't that the point of that little clique—to be exalted by the masses?" He almost laughed, "Well, madam, you should consider yourself honored. You've personally felt the fervor of my exaltation."
"I meant you no harm," she said passionately. "And in truth, I did you no harm, so I would like the money you took from me. I must have it."
"What do you mean you did me no harm?" He sat back as coolly as if he were discussing the day's trading.
She put both hands on his desk and leaned forward. "I mean that I would have attended your sister's debut but was restrained from doing so. Therefore, you must return my money. You've made a tragic error."
He laughed, a shockingly joyless sound. "Do you know how many times in the past weeks I've heard that, Miss Van Alen ? My God, I'd need an accountant to keep track of all the excuses."
"But in my case it's the truth," she said, sure she could make him believe her.
He only laughed harder. "There must be a mockingbird in this room. Doesn't the Manhattan aristocracy have any originality at all?"
"But I truly meant to attend," she answered, panic rising in her breast because he didn't believe her. "I wanted to attend."
A sardonic smile played on his lips. "Ah, finally something new. Congratulations, Miss Van Alen , you're the first one who's said that."
She shook her head, desperate that he believe her. "I met your sister Mara in the park several months ago. She'll tell you I wanted to attend. I believe she liked me every bit as much as I did her."
He lifted another paper from his desk, a long list of names, and he paused. "These are all the people my sister thought liked her. Do you know how many of them attended her debut?"
Sickened by what the answer might be , Alana said nothing.
Without a word, he rose and walked stiffly to the fireplace. He tossed the list into the fire, and as it burned, she saw his knuckles whiten over the gold top of his walking stick that he never seemed to relinquish.
Their eyes met, and she could hardly look at him for the fury in his gaze. "I know none of them came," she whispered, her heart aching for some inexplicable reason. Suddenly she was as desperate to soothe Mara's ills as her own. "But perhaps those people on that list are not worth all this trouble, Mr. Sheridan. Have you thought of that? And does Mara want you to do all of this? Cause all this trouble? I think not. So I wonder whether you're doing this for Mara . . . or
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