The Heiress Hunt

by Joanna Shupe

  “No, stay,” Nellie said. “The ice cream—”

  “Really, I should go.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Thank you for coming to see me. We’ll catch up later.”

  Though the urge to flee burned through her muscles, she forced herself to take reasonable, unhurried steps to the door. As soon as she was outside, she dragged in a bracing lungful of warm city air. The backs of her lids tingled with tears as she walked, but she held them off. Crying wouldn’t do her any good.

  As her mother liked to sometimes say, the milk had been spilled. One could only clean it up and move on.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maddie was restringing a tennis racket the next morning when her husband appeared. Eyeing the length of him through her lashes, she had to admit he looked quite dashing today, in a cream-colored summer suit and beige vest. Had any man ever worn clothing better?

  Though he was spectacular out of clothing, as well.

  She bit her lip and tried to ignore the heat suddenly coursing through her. He hadn’t joined her in bed last night again, either, and she’d missed him—and not merely as a means to cure her lust. She missed the physical closeness, the connection they shared. The way he made her laugh, his kisses.

  He’d pushed so hard during the house party. Why was he backing off now?

  Because he’s already won you. He doesn’t have to try any longer.

  That was a depressing thought.

  His mouth curved into a half smile as he lowered himself into the chair beside her. “Do you have time for me today?”

  “When?”

  “Now. I’d like to take a walk and show you something.”

  She glanced at the racket in her hands. “I have no interest in going out, Harrison.” This shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing as how she’d informed him of the ice cream outing during dinner last night.

  “It’s close by and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “How close?”

  “Three blocks.”

  She hedged. That wasn’t far, but she didn’t care to risk running into anyone on the street.

  “I’ve just been out and no one is walking this early. Please, let me show you something. You’ll like it, I swear.”

  “Fine.”

  He stood and held out his hand. “Come along, wife. Let’s have some fun.”

  Minutes later, they were walking north on Fifth Avenue. One of her arms was linked with his, and she used her free hand to hold up a parasol to block the midmorning sun. Thankfully, he was right about the lack of morning traffic. The sidewalks were empty, with only the occasional wagon or cart in the street.

  At Eighty-Fifth Street, he stopped in front of the Xavier house and tilted his head toward the massive property. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  A sprawling Romanesque structure, the speckled-brick house had been built four years ago on a grand scale, with balconies, turrets and gables. She’d been inside a few times for various events, and had even watched a lawn tennis match in the gardens during her debut. “It is. I’ve always liked this house.”

  “I know. I remember you going on and on about it three years ago. You loved the lawn tennis court in the back.”

  He remembered that conversation? “I did. The Xaviers are lovely people, as well.”

  “Her health is failing. Did you know?”

  Maddie shook her head. “I didn’t. How awful. I wonder if my mother is aware.” Mama and Mrs. Xavier had chaired a flower show together years back.

  “I think they are keeping it quiet. He’s moved her to St. Augustine.”

  “Florida?”

  “Yes.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a set of keys. “Would you like to look around?”

  Her jaw fell and she stared at his hands. “You have their keys?”

  “I do.” Dipping his head under the brim of her hat, he kissed her nose. “Come on.”

  Taking her hand, he led her up the bluestone walk and under the portico. She stumbled along at his side, dumbfounded. “Wait, are you serious? How on earth did you steal their keys?”

  “Stop asking so many questions and play along. This will be fun.”

  “Harrison, this is not like sneaking into the larder for cherry pie when we were kids. This is serious. We could be arrested.”

  At the door, he fit the key in the lock. “I am absolutely certain we will not be arrested. Now, after you.” He opened the door and swept out his hand.

  She went in, positive they would be turned away at any minute. Except the entryway was empty, the lights off. The air had a stillness about it, as if the house had been shuttered a while. “Where is the staff?”

  “On holiday since the Xaviers left. We’re alone.” He suddenly pinched her left buttock through her skirts, as if to prove it.

  She yelped and pushed his shoulder. “You’re a scoundrel, Mr. Archer.”

  Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her close. “I am your scoundrel, Mrs. Archer.” After exchanging a leisurely kiss, he took her hand. “Let’s explore.”

  The house was open and airy, big rooms meant to impress. The architectural details were stunning, with intricate carvings and mammoth fireplaces, not to mention a stained-glass ceiling over the ballroom. Mr. Xavier had been an avid collector of art, and there was no shortage of classic paintings hanging on the walls.

  They walked the four floors, quietly commenting to each other on the things they liked. She was most impressed by the indoor pool and the conservatory. Harrison liked the master bedroom and oak-paneled library. Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floors, and she began to suspect why he’d brought her here.

  He had mentioned renting a house for the summer, but this was more square footage than they required. She’d imagined a town house on the Upper East Side, not a thirty-room mansion. Even though she did love this house, this seemed excessive.

  They continued to the back of the house, finally reaching the terrace that overlooked the gardens. Outlines of a lawn tennis court could still be seen, though the grass had become unruly. “That poor court,” she murmured. “It was gorgeous a few years ago.”

  “It could be gorgeous again.” Harrison leaned a hip against the balustrade and faced her. “With your help.”

  “You want to rent this house.”

  He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “I want to buy this house.”

  “Buy it?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to stay close to your parents?”

  “It’s an awfully big house.”

  Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I only want it if you agree. It’s a great location and there is already a lawn tennis court.” He kissed her cheek. “And this terrace reminds me of the chateau. Perfect for sharing cigars with you.”

  She relaxed into his chest, the memories heating her skin. “You almost kissed me that night.”

  Shifting, he cupped her jaw in his palm. His expression was filled with affection as he lowered his head. “I wanted nothing more in that moment.”

  She whispered, “I wanted it, as well,” just before he kissed her. Gently, he nipped at her lips, delicate sweeps of his mouth that had her clinging to him within seconds. Their breath mingled in the quiet morning, with the birds as their only audience, and the entire world narrowed to just his hands, his lips and his tongue.

  She was panting by the time they broke apart. He adjusted her hat, which had become askew during their kiss. “What do you think? Should we buy it?”

  “Can we afford it?”

  “I thought we covered this the other day, but yes, we can afford it. Would you like to live here with me?”

  She could picture their lives here—with children one day, perhaps. They would make many happy memories together within these walls. It felt right. “Yes, I think I would.”

  “Excellent.” He gave her one swift kiss, then led her back inside. “I’ll have the real estate agent start on the paperwork.”

  By the time he locked up, mor
e carriages were in the street, and the steady clip of hooves rang in her ears as she and Harrison crossed the street. “You found this house for us because you remembered how much I liked it,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

  “I am trying to do better at the request of my wife.”

  “You don’t have to buy us a house to earn my forgiveness.”

  “I realize that, but how could I pass up the chance to see you smile? Besides, someone else will buy this house if we don’t.”

  “Do you have any other surprises, Harrison Archer?”

  He squeezed her forearm. “Perhaps.”

  “Like what—”

  “Harrison! Ho!”

  A brougham jerked to the curb and a man jumped down to the walk. It was Thomas Archer, Harrison’s brother.

  “Shit,” Harrison muttered under his breath, his body tensing.

  Thomas didn’t spare her a glance, directing his attention to his brother. “Why haven’t you been answering me?”

  Her husband offered no apology. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Yes, well.” Thomas looked over his shoulder, as if to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “That situation we discussed is quite urgent—”

  “You remember my wife?” Harrison’s voice was cold and brittle, a lash of reprimand.

  Thomas winced and bowed in Maddie’s direction. “Of course. Mrs. Archer, how nice to see you.”

  “Mr. Archer.”

  She’d never liked Harrison’s brother. He was spoiled and supercilious. When they were younger, Thomas had purposely teased Harrison to elicit a reaction—one that invariably landed Harrison in trouble. It was as if Thomas tried to make himself look better at his brother’s expense.

  “We won’t keep you from your errand,” Harrison said to his brother. “Good afternoon.”

  “Hold up. When will you come by? We are quite anxious to see you.”

  “I am still on my honeymoon, Thomas. I’ll deal with you in my own time.”

  “But—”

  “Not another word,” Harrison snapped. “Or that situation to which you referred will no longer be my concern.” Without awaiting a response, Harrison practically dragged Maddie away, not that she could blame him. He’d suffered enough at the hands of his family.

  “He still thinks you are going to save them.”

  “Yes, and his messages are growing desperate.”

  “You’re allowing Thomas and your mother to boil in the stew a little longer.”

  His lips twisted, his eyes alight with sinister amusement. “Of course. That’s half the fun.”

  “How close are you?”

  “Close.”

  That was cryptic. “What about Thomas’s wife and children?”

  Harrison shrugged. “He’ll need to find employment, I suppose, to support them.”

  “You have turned very hard-hearted.”

  “With everyone but you, Mads. Everyone but you.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Harrison smiled at his wife, though her blindfold prevented her from seeing it. “You’ll see.”

  Two days had passed since the ice cream parlor incident, and Maddie remained mostly quiet, subdued, which was entirely out of character for her. He hated that people were gossiping about them, crushing his wife’s spirit and causing her to hide out.

  The word is called guilt.

  Yes, he felt guilty for what happened at the house party—not that he regretted it. She was his wife, and he’d suffer a thousand scandals to marry her.

  Which was easy for him to say, he realized. Society was much harsher on women. She’d suffered these last few days, unused to being an outcast. Harrison, however, had been an outcast almost from the day he was born. Perhaps he could give her some tips.

  Regardless, he longed to ease her troubles and rebuild the closeness between them. Staying away from her bed for the past three nights had been absolute torture.

  “Let’s go upstairs” is not the answer after you’ve lied to me about almost everything. Do better.

  He was trying.

  Morning sun warmed his skin as they stepped behind the house. Taking up nearly an entire city block, the sprawling grounds behind the Webster home contained a swimming pool and, of course, a lawn tennis court. This morning, thanks to clever subterfuge on Harrison’s part, Maddie’s tennis coach had canceled their session, claiming he was too ill to leave the house. And when Maddie changed into her tennis clothes, off to practice alone, Harrison had waylaid her with a blindfold.

  “Harrison, I really don’t have time for this. Nationals is right around the corner.”

  “Patience, Mads. Patience.”

  She huffed in annoyance and he tried not to laugh. Holding her elbow, he led her deeper into the gardens, toward the tennis court.

  “I know we are outside,” she said, as if that explained everything. “And if I step in something and ruin my shoes, then you will be sorry.”

  He couldn’t hold in the chuckle. “I’ll buy you new shoes if you ruin them.”

  “Shoes I’ll need to break in before Nationals. Not to mention these are my lucky shoes.”

  “You don’t need luck. You have talent.”

  They approached the court, where a man waited. He was dressed in white, performing some stretches while holding a racket in one hand.

  “I know we’re near the court. I can smell the roses.”

  He said nothing, just brought her to the edge of the short grass. Reaching, he removed her blindfold and let her blink a few times. “Maddie, I’d like you to meet—”

  “Frederick Hovey,” she blurted and rushed toward the other man, thrusting her hand out. “Goodness, I cannot believe it. What are you doing here?”

  A rangy man with a bushy mustache, Fred had gone to Harvard Law School, a connection that had assisted in Harrison getting him here. That, and the promise of a seat on the Archer Industries board.

  Fred’s mouth kicked up as he shook her hand. “Mrs. Archer. You know who I am.”

  “Of course. I saw you play Mr. Wrenn in the ’93 championships and again last year when you won your doubles championship. Your backhand cross-court return was a thing of beauty.”

  Harrison smiled at her proudly. This was what made Maddie such a fierce competitor. Not only did she work hard on the court, she studied off the court, as well. “He’s also currently the top-ranked player in the country.”

  “For now,” Fred qualified in an obvious attempt at humility.

  “I am looking forward to seeing you at the men’s singles championship in August,” Maddie told him. “I think this is your year to win.”

  “We’ll see. I assume Wrenn will be at his best, as well. He won’t be easy to beat.” Swinging his racket a few times, he said, “Shall we get to it?”

  “Get to what?” She looked at Harrison. “I don’t understand.”

  “Fred is here to train with you today.”

  The muscles in her face slackened. “Is that a joke?”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “I’d be honored, Mrs. Archer,” Fred said. “I saw you play in Cincinnati last summer.”

  Another man approached the court. Maddie’s coach, Valentine Livingston. A member of a prominent East Coast family, Vallie had been an outstanding doubles player before retiring from tennis the year before. He’d agreed to help Maddie train, no doubt due to pressure from her father.

  “Vallie,” she called, blinking in the sun. “I thought you were under the weather.”

  “You didn’t think I would miss this, did you?” Vallie shook Fred’s hand. “Hovey, a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Valentine.” Fred pumped the other man’s hand. “Came to ensure I don’t undo any of your hard work, I see.”

  “Indeed,” Vallie said with a light laugh. “We’ve been working on her serve for six months. I can’t have you changing anything before Nationals.”

  “Fair enough.” Fred pointed to the court. “Shall we, Mrs. Archer?”

 
; Maddie bounced on her toes, excitement shining on her face, and Harrison’s shoulders relaxed slightly. This had worked. At least for a few moments, he’d cheered her up.

  She grabbed his arm and kissed his cheek. “This is the best surprise ever. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. Have fun.”

  He waved to the two gents and went back inside. Not even nine o’clock in the morning and he already had one victory. Not too bad for a layabout wastrel.

  Now, on to tackling his other problem.

  The takeover of Archer Industries was close at hand, but he could not rush it. This was a game of chess, with each move strategic and careful, focused on trapping his opponents. Leaving them no choice but to surrender in the end.

  And the end would be very soon.

  As he walked back inside the Webster home, the butler found him. “Sir, a message was delivered for you.”

  Harrison took the card off the silver tray. “Thank you. Is Mr. Innis here yet?”

  “He is in Mr. Webster’s office, sir.”

  With a nod, he started for the office. “Thank you, Farley.”

  He glanced at the note in his hand and sneered, recognizing the stationery. The note was from either his mother or his brother, no doubt asking when their money was due to arrive. Harrison crumpled the paper in his fist without reading it. Let them worry.

  William Innis was waiting in Webster’s office. A young Black man, William was only a few years older than Harrison, and had graduated from Delaware State College with a degree in finance. While still in Paris, Harrison had hired William to oversee the takeover here in the States, and Harrison had instantly liked the other man’s forthright manner and the capable way he tackled problems. William had proven indispensable in the takeover of Archer Industries the last four months.

  Harrison shut the door and walked toward the desk. “Morning, William. Thank you for meeting uptown today.” Since Harrison’s return to the city, they had worked in William’s office near Wall Street.

  The other man adjusted the round glasses on his face. “I don’t mind. I live directly on the other side of the park.”

  “I remember. Amsterdam near Eighty-Seventh, isn’t it? Well, we might work up here a bit more until the takeover is finished.” He wanted to remain close to Maddie in the hope that she’d soon forgive him. Not sleeping with her was driving him mad, like he was being deprived of food and water. The very air he needed to survive.