“My daughter-in-law. A sickly little thing. She brought enough money to the family but little else.” Alice laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “There’s never been any children from the union.”
Ruby felt a little uncomfortable at the very personal nature of this conversation with a stranger.
“That’s unfortunate,” Ruby said.
“Isn’t it though? And then I have to contend with his dalliances with that mulatto. Shocking! But I think he does it only to irritate me.” She smiled at Ruby, though she had said nothing amusing.
Ruby had often heard the words “mulatto” and “quadroon” thrown about. In the South, there were all sorts of names given to people with mixed blood. That King’s mistress was of mixed blood didn’t concern her. But apparently it did his mother, and of course no child of the union would be blessed; in fact, they would most likely live on the fringes of polite society.
“I really don’t know what will come of this family if an heir isn’t produced.” Alice sighed heavily.
Ruby decided the older woman had been drinking and was saying things she probably kept to herself most of the time. Ruby ignored her last comment and remained silent.
“Well,” she said, eyeing Ruby. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss Sutton. Enjoy the party.”
Ruby watched the woman go with a sense of relief. King and Vernon were nowhere in sight. She moved past the piano, where the man was playing a classical piece that she couldn’t name.
The party was a success if the amount of people and food consumed was any indicator. She tried to compare it to the parties back home. In the South, the parties were filled with lively music, dancing, food, and laughter. This glittering Manhattan party seemed filled with people talking and not much else.
She set her champagne glass down and moved into the next room. Everything about the mansion spoke of wealth and extravagance. Even in Mississippi, their plantation home had been carefully decorated but was not ostentatious. This mansion, however, was a showpiece. A place to proclaim to the world, look at me. Look at me.
“There you are, my dear,” a voice said smoothly, and Ruby turned to see William Parker standing in the doorway.
“I was admiring your lovely home.”
King threw a glance about the room and seemed unimpressed by it all.
“Mother likes to show off.” He shrugged.
“And you?”
“I like to live. And make money.”
“I think you’ve succeeded,” she said, casting her eyes about.
“Come. Let me show you the rest of the house,” he said, placing a hand at her lower back.
“My father was not as successful, and a son always wants to do better than his father. What I didn’t realize was that by doing better than him, I began to look down upon him, and I think he realized it. Terrible thing, that.”
“Yes, it must be.” Ruby wondered if maybe these Parkers said what they thought and to hell with social niceties. If so, it was very disconcerting.
“He’s been dead many years, but I still think about him. I wonder if I could have been different. But the past is the past, and it’s best not to dwell on it. Now what do you say to that?” he said as he propelled her into a glass conservatory.
There was a simple fountain in the middle of the glass and iron room, surrounded by plants and French doors leading to the gardens outside. She saw prettily colored lanterns outside and footmen carrying their silver trays with a few guests walking about.
“Very picturesque.” Ruby nodded.
“I’m going on a picnic tomorrow. A ride into Central Park to take in the air. I would like it very much if you joined me,” he said suddenly.
Ruby was caught off guard. She had only heard of his reputation from Bessie, who probably read about it in some gossip column. But what possible reason could she give to refuse?
“That’s very kind of you. I-I don’t—”
“Splendid. I’ll send my car around to your lodgings at eleven.”
Ruby looked into his brown eyes and nodded. “Very well.”
“Have you been to Central Park?”