White Lace and Promises (31 page)

“Beth, I know what is best for the business.”

“And the business must always come first—even before the people you care for the most.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Why won’t you even try to understand my position? How can you pretend to love me and yet be unable to see my side of things?”

“I see your position but I also see that you do not have your priorities straight. Jan is more important than any business could ever be. It’s almost too late for you to repair things with him, to make things right for him.” She paused. “You must be a true father. I know too well what the lack of a father feels like.”

His silver eyes turned to frost. “I am being a true father. I do so best by protecting my assets. Sexton Shipping shall one day belong to Jan and any sons you and I may have. And their sons. You are not looking at things clearly enough. It’s about the larger vision, Beth. You have to trust my judgement.”

His final tone said that the subject was closed. She watched with a sinking sensation in her stomach as he left her chamber. How was she going to continue to love and respect a man who would not be a true father to his own son?

* * * *

A knock on the door brought Grey out of his deep concentration on an important letter to Mr Heron. “Enter!”

The door opened and a pale-faced, adolescent clerk inched inside. “Mr Sexton, I know you said not to disturb you, but Mrs Allen says she must see you.”

Suppressing a sigh, Grey put his quill into the inkwell. “Well, then, show her in.”

The clerk hurried away.

Grey glanced down at the letter. It was instructions for his clerks to follow while he was away. He’d put off the trip to Albany, for Jan had spent the early morning hours following his arrest dizzy and vomiting and with a headache so terrible he’d been unable to move at all. The weakness Jan showed over the next few days had alarmed Grey and he’d made up his mind to postpone. However, Jan seemed to be doing fine now. The trip couldn’t be delayed any longer.

“Grey?”

Ruth’s characteristic, falsely humble tone grated on his ears. He compressed his lips for a moment, then looked up. She stood in the doorway, her shoulders slumped and her mouth turned down in its habitual grimace. He already knew what she wanted. Money.

He forced a pleasant expression. “Ruth, how are you today?”

Ruth shuffled from foot to foot. Her rose-coloured morning gown bore far too many frills to suit her well-rounded figure, marking her taste as common, bordering on the sluttish.

With difficulty, he summoned all his patience. “Come in, Ruth.”

“I hate to bother you but…”

That quaver in her voice…she was a very good actress. He held up his hand, remembering belatedly to stand in the presence of his wife’s sister. He hurried to the door, closed it and motioned to a chair.

“Have a seat. Would you care for some claret?”

She touched her throat and cleared it, the gravelled sound echoing loudly in the chamber. “I think I would.”

He poured her a glass and gave it to her. Then he walked back to lean against his desk and wait while she gulped the fine claret as though it was rum. Beyond belief. Simply beyond imagining that his beautiful, graceful, open-hearted wife had been born of the same mother as this common, coarse, self-seeking creature. Something snapped inside him. “You need money, do you not?”

Ruth snorted in mid-swallow.

“Oh, please, Ruth—let us have no pretence between us. In the nearly five months since I married Beth and brought her here to New York, you have written her—what is it? Once or twice.”

Ruth lowered her glass and cradled it in her lap. Her eyes meet his, a mulish look to them. “Twice.”

“Twice, in all these months. That’s not the way of a loving sister.”

“But—but you don’t understand. I’ve been busy.”

“Both times you have written, you have asked her for significant sums of money, have you not?”

“I might’ve mentioned some pressing needs, and Elizabeth was kind enough to give me a little here and there…”

Disdain rose in him so strongly that he couldn’t keep from shaking his head. “No. No.”

Ruth’s mouth dropped open. “No?”

“No, that’s not the way it went. You played on her sympathies, her affections. You wrote to her specifically to wheedle money out of her. Money to clear up various scrapes made by Charlie and your son. I know all about Charlie’s habits—his women, the gambling and how far into debt he has driven himself.”

Ruth sagged in the chair, her tense face visibly relaxing. “Then you know why I am here.”

Of course he did. Were they actually so stupid as to think he would invest in the shop and not keep in touch with what was happening with it? He leaned harder against the front of his desk, holding his hands up to his chest, steeple fashion, and watched her squirm in her seat.

“The shop.” Her voice was quite steady now. “Charlie drew a mortgage on it. Business is down. He can’t pay.”

“Let them take it.”

She paled. “What?”

“Let the creditors have it. Charlie has no intention of making anything of it.”

 
She gaped at him for several moments. “But how shall we live?”

His first instinct was to tell her to go to the devil. But her young children were Beth’s beloved nieces. They were blameless. And Beth would hurt if her half-siblings were put onto the street. “I shall purchase you a modest house to live in and provide a trust you may draw a set amount from each month. It will provide you with a comfortable living.”

Ruth straightened in her chair, her brown eyes flaring resentfully. “Seems to me you’d be more than a little worried over your wife’s relations living like poor folk. Wouldn’t look good.”

“Wait—you haven’t heard me out. I will only provide this if you agree to make your home in Philadelphia.”

Her brows drew together. “Philadelphia?”

“Boston, Charleston—I don’t care where you live, so long as you stay away from New York and my wife.”

“Maybe she’s your wife, but she was my sister long ere that.”

“You don’t treat her like a beloved sister.”

A cagey look settled over her features. “You’re forgetting yourself.”

His brows shot up of their own accord. “Am I?”

Good God, did the woman think she had any leverage here?

She tapped a finger to the side of her nose. “And how would people talk if they knew the truth about you and Elizabeth?”

He schooled his expression to remain impassive. “What’s the truth?”

“She was your fancy piece. Your little doxy.”

“You’d better close your mouth while you’re ahead.”

Ruth laughed, the sound low and snide. “She thought she was so clever, meeting with her lovers and acting so innocent and pure. But I smelt it on her. Her eyes always lit up so brightly afterwards. For days. After Dr Wade married his little wifey, I knew she’d be too proud to go on with him. But she had someone all along after that. I figured it was someone from the neighbourhood. Who’d have guessed she was aiming so high?”

He fixed her with a bland look. “Why would I have married her if I could bed her for free?”

“I expected her to round long ere now. But then, maybe she lost it and you are both keeping quiet on it.”

His blood went cold. “You think I’ll pay you more—that I’ll allow you to blackmail me?”

“You should just think about who you’re dealing with.”

“I think you should get out of my sight before I change my mind about the house and trust.”

For a moment, she glared at him. “I don’t believe you’re so calm about it. I know how you are about appearances. You nearly drive Elizabeth crazy with it. You’d die before you’d let anyone know you’d been fucking her before the wedding.”

“Keep pressing me and find out how soon I can have you and Charlie thrown into prison for non-payment of debts.”

Her mouth fell open and she gaped dumbly. Then her eyes narrowed. “You’d never do that.”

“Don’t test me, Ruth.”

“What about my daughters? Don’t you think Beth would hate you for taking their mother from them?”

“Beth can raise your daughters just fine.”

“But she’d never forgive you.”

“No, she wouldn’t. However, she’d be free from your manipulations.”

“You’re insane. There’s something not right about you. I told Elizabeth that from the first day you came to the shop to ask to court her.”

He leant forward. “I want you gone from New York within the next week.”

“And if I don’t go?”

“I’ll have you charged with blackmail and bodily removed.”

She paled, then collected her handbag, jumped to her feet and dashed out of the door.

He let his body sag. Christ. He could never allow Beth to find out what desperation had led her sister to. Beth could never know how Ruth had threatened to throw her to the wolves. She’d be crushed. He wouldn’t have it. But Ruth was sure to report a skewed version of this interview. Beth was going to be so angry with him. She might not forgive him.

* * * *

Beth sat before her mirror, her head still stinging from Miss Fairchild’s attack upon it with the silver-backed hairbrush. The woman seemed to believe vigorous brushing was essential to a lady’s vital being.

“You’re awfully quiet this afternoon, Ruth.”

“I—I asked your husband about the situation with Charlie.” Ruth blurted the words. Tears streaked her round, ruddy face.

Dread twisted through Beth’s stomach. “Oh no, you didn’t.”

“You said you didn’t have the money.”

Oh, this did not bode well. Beth took a ragged breath. “What did he say?”

Ruth sighed, her eyes gone glassy and forlorn. “He says I’ve got to make my home in Philadelphia or else he won’t help us.”

Beth’s heart seemed to stop. “He said
what
?”

“He says he will provide me with a house and a monthly income but I must make my home in Philadelphia. Or Boston or Charleston—he doesn’t care so long as I stay away from you.”

Ruth’s words spun around in Beth’s mind. They wouldn’t slow down long enough for her to make real sense of them. But her blood heated almost of its own accord, making her heart leap back to life with a series of jarring jerks. “I see.”

“I see.”

“He says let the creditors take the shop; he doesn’t care.”

Beth jumped to her feet. “I have to go and speak with my husband.”

How dare Grey think he could use his money to dictate her family relations? If he didn’t want to give Charlie the money, if he truly wished to let the shop go to creditors, that was one thing. But to use the money to control and manipulate matters to his own liking? He had no right. No right at all. Tears flowed from her eyes—tears of pure anger.

She swiped her eyes with her sleeve, then went straight to
his
chamber. His private chamber, where she wasn’t welcome even though she was his wife. She raised her hand, prepared to knock upon it like a supplicant. Anger smouldered through her. Did he ever knock when he entered her chamber? No, he did not. She wouldn’t take this sort of treatment any longer. Like she was a mistress and not his wife. Her hand flew to the knob and she jerked open the door.

Grey stood by the mirror, tweaking his cravat while Will brushed fussily at his dark blue evening jacket with a lint brush.

They both paused and turned to her.

Will’s mouth dropped open but Grey’s expression softened.

“You may take the remainder of the evening off, Will.”

The short, wiry valet laid the brush on the washstand and hurried out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“Ruth came to you, bearing her tales,” he said. A statement not a question.

She struggled to keep her voice level. “You had no right to try and coerce my sister through money. Deny her the loan—I do understand your reasons—but you have no right to demand that she keep away from me.”

He stared at her unwaveringly, showing not one whit of shame. “She’s using you. I want her gone from your life.”

Tear welled in her eyes; whether from anger or frustration, she couldn’t sort out. She wasn’t some weakling dependent on his paternalistic protection. Why couldn’t he see her as she was?

“Beth, it is for the best.”

“It’s not your place to say!”

“We shall have to discuss it later, Beth, I am running late for a very important supper party.”

Like a deluge of icy water, shock replaced her anger. “What?”

“I have a supper party to attend. We shall discuss this matter later.” He parsed his words as if speaking to a child.

She gaped at him. “You’re going out? Tonight?”

His features softened even more. “I know, Beth, but I have to.”

“But it is Jan’s first night to rejoin us at the dining table.”

“I know. Believe me, I don’t want this. However, something pressing has come up.”