Breathless Secrets by Elizabeth Lennox
Chapter 6
Eleanor Morgan sipped her tea, ignoring her husband as he noisily scraped butter over his toast. The man was such a slob, she thought. But he was powerful within the Manhattan social scene and, for that, she endured his slovenly habits and his heart-attack-inducing diet. She also ignored the woman living in the brownstone over in Brooklyn, which he visited on a regular basis, as well as the prostitutes that frequented his office on those afternoons when he had “important lunch meetings”. As long as he paid her credit card bills and kept up his end of their financial bargain, Eleanor didn’t care what her husband did with his time. She maintained his house and performed her hostessing obligations. Their arrangement worked, even if it was more of a financial partnership than a marriage.
Flipping through the newspaper, Eleanor was about to toss the paper aside when a headline in the political section caught her eyes. For a brief moment, she almost felt a pang of pride as the image of her son came into focus. The picture was blurry and Eleanor made a note to contact Herman Bradshaw, the editor in chief of the newspaper to admonish him for the mediocre skills of his photographer when she saw her son’s arm around a woman in a red dress. She looked like a hussy, Eleanor decided with immediate disdain.
Her eyes narrowed as she read the caption. “Hot Shot Lawyer Challenging the Von Deuch Legacy” That was it? Nothing about the woman?
She must not be important. Eleanor started to dismiss the woman. Plenty of females had passed through her son’s life and this one was just another in a long line. It didn’t matter as long as this…person didn’t distract James from his career. A career Eleanor was looking forward to exploiting for her own benefit! Eleanor had plans once her son was in his senate seat. She wanted to harness his power for her own personal ambitions.
But what was this woman doing by his side? And why was James looking at her as if…did James actually have feelings for this woman?
She almost laughed at the possibility. James wouldn’t dare denigrate himself by attaching his name to such a ridiculous woman! Her hair was blond! Was the color even real? And…good grief, she was wearing a garish red dress! What trash! How dare this tramp wear such a whorish shade when on her son’s arm!
“Everything okay, darling?” her husband asked, setting down his own newspaper and wiping crumbs from his mouth with a pudgy hand. They had two newspapers delivered every morning since neither was willing to share. They didn’t share bedrooms or bathrooms, why the hell would they bother to share a newspaper? It was bad enough that they had to share the dining room table!
“Everything is perfectly fine, my love,” she said, forcing her lips up into a semblance of a smile. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, lifting the starched napkin to his mouth, wiping his fleshy lips before tossing it onto the table.
Eleanor didn’t bother to roll her eyes, knowing full well he refused to lay his napkin on his chair simply to piss her off.
“I don’t know,” the bulbous man said as he stood up, buttoning his tailored jacket. “I suppose because you look irritated.” He chuckled, causing his multiple chins and jowls to shake. “But how would I know the difference? You’re always irritated!”
And with that, he left the room. Eleanor ignored him. Ruppert was just a means to an end. Husbands came and went. And because of his irritating comment, she would stop by the jewelers and buy those diamond earrings that she’d fallen in love with last week.
Not that she needed more diamond earrings. She had several, all of them safely tucked away in a safety deposit box that only she knew about. Eleanor considered her jewelry collection to be her financial safety net. She was well aware of her husband’s opinion of her, as well as her reputation among their social circle. Hell, it was how she maintained control over the other bitchy women who moved throughout the Manhattan social set. No one crossed her because her tongue-lashings were legendary. It was a source of pride that the other wives cowered when she entered a luncheon or social gathering.
As her eyes moved over the photograph one more time, Eleanor wondered if this woman was someone she needed to deal with. Or was this tart just a passing fancy? Was her son exploring some sort of…tramp fantasy? Sowing some wild oats?
Perhaps it was time to do a bit of investigation. Carefully folding the newspaper, she stood up, placing her napkin on the chair with a sneer at her husband’s messy end of the breakfast table before she got on with her day.
