Free What the Lady Wants by Renée Rosen Page A

nothing. Arthur was the only Caton son, and the judge and Mrs. Caton were eager for an heir to carry on the family name. Delia’s own mother had mentioned countless times that she wanted more grandchildren. But no one wanted Delia to have a child more than Delia. If only Arthurwould come to the marriage bed more often, she knew they would stand a better chance of becoming pregnant. Not a month had passed that she hadn’t cried at the first sign of her own blood.
    While the women carried on, Delia excused herself and slipped out of the parlor. She was light-headed and rested her forehead against the wainscoting in the hallway, drawing deep breaths. Maybe something she’d eaten hadn’t agreed with her or maybe she was just overwhelmed by the talk of children. With each new breath she felt the stabbing jab of her corset digging into her rib cage.
    While standing there she overheard the men down the hall in the library. It sounded like they were having some sort of a gentlemanly disagreement, with Levi Leiter and Marshall at its center. Though Levi and Marshall were successful business partners, Delia had heard that the two rarely saw eye to eye on most matters. Apparently that night was no exception. What surprised her, though, was that they were willing to debate their business disputes openly in front of their friends.
    â€œThis is where you and I differ,” she heard Levi saying. “Wholesale is more lucrative and yet, you insist on focusing on retail. Retail is nothing but a bunch of women with too much time on their hands.”
    â€œTime. And money,” she heard Potter remind him.
    â€œEspecially when it comes to our wives,” George Pullman added with a laugh.
    Marshall spoke over the others. “That’s precisely why I want to continue importing merchandise from Europe. I’ve always said, ‘Give the lady what she wants.’”
    â€œAnd I’m sick of hearing it. That’s nonsense,” said Levi. “Women aren’t all that particular. They’ll purchase whatever we offer them.”
    The conversation drifted on, but Delia lost track of it asanother wave of vertigo came on. She flattened her hands against the wall and studied the swirling grains in the wainscoting, trying not to faint. She felt like she’d been there for hours when she heard a voice calling from behind.
    â€œAre you unwell?”
    Delia turned with a start and there was Marshall.
    â€œMy goodness, you’re white as a sheet,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and steering her into the library. “Get me a glass of water,” he called to his footman.
    Arthur rushed to her side. “Dell, what’s wrong?”
    â€œNothing, nothing,” she said. “I’m just a little light-headed is all. I’ll be fine.”
    The men turned and stared at her, unaccustomed to having a lady in their company while enjoying their cigars and after-dinner drinks. Levi Leiter and George Pullman nearly dropped their glasses and Potter just about choked on his brandy. Augustus adjusted his monocle, while Lionel Perkins flicked his cigar and missed the ashtray by an inch.
    â€œPlease, gentlemen,” she said, breathing in their smoke. “Forgive me for intruding. I’ll just be a moment.”
    Arthur helped her over to the settee. “Just rest here until it passes, Dell.”
    She took the glass of water from the servant. It felt ridiculously heavy in her hand. After a few sips she felt better, and the light-headedness subsided, but still she couldn’t bring herself to return to the parlor. She couldn’t bear listening to the other women going on about their children. And besides, what the men were saying intrigued her, so she stayed in the library, feigning illness. Before long, the men turned away from her and resumed their conversation.
    â€œ. . . You give these female customers far too much credit,”Levi insisted.