Chapter 6

“What effrontery to show your face here again.”

Zelpher’s back stiffened. He had hoped to be spared this confrontation, but such was wishful thinking.

The service itself had given him a sense of refreshment he hadn’t expected. Before he left Five Points, he’d become dissatisfied with what he considered religious ritual.

Today, it felt more like a balm to his inner spirit.

How could Reverend Thompson have spoken on that passage of scripture? He’d no inkling Zelpher would have returned this day, this moment. Every word spoken seemed directed at him.

What did he do with such coincidence?

After the service, people greeted him as correct society demanded. Perhaps their smiles were glacial, their manner of addressing him stunted, but at least most greeted him with a polite façade.

Should he have expected the man who hated him to act with civility?

Outside on the pavement under a bright spring sun, Zelpher pivoted around slowly and braced himself for this long-overdue skirmish.

“Mr. Letchmore,” he greeted cordially, “I’m pleased to see you again.”

The ebony-skinned man with a robust frame of flesh towered over him by several inches. Sheathed in a black overcoat with a brown velvet-lined collar, the elegance of his clothing contrasted with the rough planes of his face. Crowned with a dense, black halo of hair and the same dark brown eyes as his daughter, he carried with him a thick, tangible air of restraint.

At Zelpher’s words, Mr. Letchmore snorted. “We’re out of church, Mr. Knight. No need to spout falsehoods.” His raspy voice set Zelpher on edge.

“Father,” Elsia intervened, standing between them. Her eyes darted between himself and her father. It was clear from the slight wrinkle in her otherwise smooth brow that this confrontation upset her.

There was nothing Zelpher could do to change her father’s dislike of him. He had ceased trying years ago, long before he left Five Points.

“Don’t you speak, Daughter.” Mr. Letchmore silenced her with a hand. “Why not let this man—,” he said the word in a questionable manner, which set Zelpher’s teeth on edge, “Speak for himself.”

Twice in a day someone questioned his manhood. Zelpher’s left eye twitched.

Elsia stayed silent, her stricken eyes fixed on him. Zelpher cleared his throat. “Mr. Letchmore, I need to speak to your daughter about my father’s health.”

“You have a sister. Why not ask her?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “My sister has other business to attend to.”

Sebro had left the church premises the moment the service ended. He knew she would not go home.

An expression of utter distaste contorted Mr. Letchmore’s features. “How shameful. First, you steal money from me and then you abandon your parents.”

Heat scalded Zelpher’s cheekbones. Mr. Letchmore, like many others in Five Points, assumed they knew all there was to know about the Knight household and its fragmented family unit. He longed to answer the man that Elsia had given him the money despite his protests. The need to seek his own life had forced him to accept the funds for his journey.

But Mr. Letchmore wouldn’t want to know that, so he said nothing.

Zelpher flicked his gaze to Elsia. Her lovely mouth curved down. Instead of responding to Mr. Letchmore, Zelpher extended his hand. “Miss Letchmore?”

Her father’s back straightened as if a fire poker had gone down his spine. Zelpher’s chin lifted. Not that he’d cut Mr. Letchmore off. It had to do with the confidence in which he addressed Elsia.

Authority-laden was his voice. A perverse desire to bring Mr. Letchmore down a rung or two drove his actions.

If it was through his daughter, so be it.

A slithery worm trailed up his back at the way he was taking advantage of Elsia’s loyalties to him, but he forcibly ignored the sensation.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Her father’s hand clamped on Elsia’s upper arm.

She winced. “Father, please.”

Immediately, Mr. Letchmore’s hold eased, but he didn’t let her go. He clipped out of thinned lips. “Haven’t you done enough, already?” The man snarled like a rabid animal. “She is my daughter. Do you understand that?” An undercurrent lined those words, filled with years of resentment.

Interested bystanders were doing their best to appear as if they weren’t aware of the spectacle before them. What did the bystanders see? A woman who stood between her father and the man she...

He didn’t finish the thought.

Zelpher remained quiet, sensing the man’s desire to send him to an early grave. He simply stared at Elsia, waiting for her to take his hand as he knew she would.

Elsia never denied him anything.

“Father, please.” Elsia used her fingers to uncurl her father’s hold from her arm. “I will not be long.”

Zelpher couldn’t prevent his chest from puffing up. He could almost feel sorry for the way the man’s shoulders slumped as he stared open-mouthed at his daughter’s defection.

Almost.

Mr. Letchmore blinked owlishly. “Daughter?”

Elsia avoided her father’s troubled gaze. “I’ll return as soon as possible, Father.”

Zelpher held the man’s gaze as Elsia took his hand into her own, unable to suppress the fleeting smirk that came upon his lips as they walked away.

A strangled curse rent the air, along with the sound of rushing feet.

“Apollo, no!”

Zelpher turned, seeing Mr. Letchmore held back by two men. His heart thudded.

Horror etched everyone’s faces. Mr. Letchmore himself was a seething mass of anger. His nostrils flared like a horse while his eyes gazed at him with murderous intent.

Zelpher swallowed.

Elsia had tugged her hand away and stared at her father. “This is not seemly, Father.”

Her admonishment caused him to drag his gaze away from Zelpher and fix on her. Like ice thawing from a roof, the fight went out of him. His shoulders slumped and the fury in his face melted away. “Yes, Daughter.”

The men let him go, and he tugged on the lapels of his coat and rolled his neck. Someone handed over his hat and he took a moment to place it on his head. Glaring at Zelpher, he said, “You’re right, Daughter. It is unseemly.”

Zelpher knew he directed the statement at him, but he said nothing.

Elsia walked away. He trailed behind her.

“Elsia—”

“Be quiet, Zelpher,” she said. A firm note of warning in her voice kept him silent.

Elsia fought to keep her temper confined. She wanted to strike Zelpher with something blunt and heavy.

She knew why he had done it. He wanted to show her father that it was he, not Apollo, who she ultimately submitted to. How weak she was to allow that. Beyond Apollo’s shock at her capitulation was his disappointment that she obeyed Zelpher when she took his hand over her father’s.

No wonder Apollo had lost all semblance of self-control and had almost caused physical harm to Zelpher. She’d have to be blind to miss Zelpher’s smugness.

She never denied him.

Sebro’s words echoed in her mind, “Goodness, Elsia. You’re not married. Even if Zelpher was your husband, you don’t have to submit to him like some grateful dog. Even Armine doesn’t do that.”

He will be my husband, her heart whispered. I just have to wait.

When would he fulfill his promise?

The answer wasn’t forthcoming.

Going north on Centre Street toward Leonard, she spotted a pack of hogs roaming. A family of four walked in the same direction. Two boys separated by a handful of years skipped ahead. The youngest pointed at the animals with awe. He ran toward the pigs before anyone could say anything and tried to pet it. His father rushed after him, but not before one pig nipped at his leg.

The child screamed like a banshee while the father scooped him up in his arms and kicked the hog.