About her husband knowing the details of Miranda's elopement, anyway. Conor's unannounced visit to Hoyt Winthrop's Wall Street firm the following day confirmed it. The building that housed Winthrop, Winthrop and Winthrop was one of lower Manhattan's tallest and most impressive. Hoyt's company filled the top three floors; his private office took one enormous corner of the upper two. Thanks to its size and to two walls made almost entirely of glass, walking into it was like walking into an aerie. Hoyt rose from behind a massive mahogany desk to greet him. "Mr. O'Neil," he said, rounding the desk with his hand outstretched, "it's good to see you again." "Thank you," Conor said politely. "Sit down, please." Hoyt gestured to a group of chairs clustered around a marble-topped coffee table. "Can I get you anything?" "Nothing, thank you." Conor sat and Hoyt settled across from him. "Mr. Winthrop, I was wondering if we could discuss your daughter." "Stepdaughter," Hoyt said with a little smile.
