It was a much fancier place than any hash house or saloon Morgan had been in before his imprisonment, and there were many women as well as men eating and drinking at the white-linened tables. They sipped their wine and ate their steaks without a care in the world.
The attendant gave Morgan a dubious look, as if he would have liked to direct Morgan to some less high-toned establishment. “Luncheon for one, sir?”
A small, unoccupied table stood fairly close to the ladies’. “Bring a steak to that table,” he said. “Rare. And plain water.” He showed his teeth. “Don’t worry. I can pay for it.”
The man opened and closed his mouth. “Very good, sir.”
Morgan didn’t wait to be shown to his place. He sat down on the upholstered chair, sifting through the interwoven conversations.
“Oh, but really, dear, you did not miss much. We were invited to view a rehearsal today, but I declined.”
“And I. Once was quite enough.”
The two voices belonged to Athena’s friends. Morgan cocked his head without turning it.
“Was this Athena’s idea?” a third woman asked.
“So her brother says. And isn’t it just like her, bringing an entire circus to Denver for her orphans?”
“Really—it is too ridiculous. She cannot resist trying to surpass what anyone else does, and make herself look like a saint—Oh, I do apologize. I speak too freely.”
“You know you are among friends here. And we all agree that Athena—well, how can we help but pity her? How can we but humor her projects, no matter how inconvenient?”
“You can say that, Marie, but you have not been called upon five times in the past month for some new scheme or other. I have had to miss a luncheon and two receptions because of her. And having to look at her, in that chair—”
“Poor thing. She will never be married.”
“But she will never be one of us—how can she? If she hadn’t been gallivanting about like a street urchin when she was younger, instead of learning proper behavior and decorum like the rest of us, she would not have been crippled. But her father spoiled her and let her run wild. Now she has nothing to do but make herself superior to everyone else.”
“That is true, Suzanne. Those expensive French gowns are wasted on her. How can she display them properly when she cannot stand, let alone dance? And she is so good. I feel a positive ogre in her presence.”
“She must try even harder to be perfect when she has such a very great… defect.”
One of the women lowered her voice to a whisper. “Let us not forget the rumor that her mother…”
“Millicent! Remember where you are.”
“Let us also not forget that her brother is a very important and eligible man in our city,” said the first woman in a droll voice. “It would not be wise to snub his sister.” She paused to sip at her drink. “We must face facts, my dears. Athena is our charity case, and we must accept that burden.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and the discussion turned to the menu. Morgan stared at his hands, clenched on the table.
So these were Athena’s friends. These were the ones who had seemed so deferential and filled with praise when they were with her, the companions Athena looked upon with obvious trust. They spoke of her as if she were an object of disdain, not admiration.
Morgan tried, and failed, to understand his seething emotions. Athena Munroe was not even present, and yet she created a storm in his belly and heart that would not let him rest. The pity he had felt the first time he saw her returned, triple what it had been before.
Why? Why should one brief meeting have done this to him? What power did she hold, she who lacked even the honest respect of her own packmates? All he knew of Athena was what he had observed and what her critics had said of her—and what he knew of people like her. This was not his world, nor these his kind. What they did among themselves was meaningless to him.