The Heiress Hunt

by Joanna Shupe

  “Why in heaven’s name must we hear about your marriage from the papers?” his mother asked. “The very least you could have done was cable us with the news to alleviate our worry.”

  “My wife and I wished to enjoy a brief honeymoon before we dealt with the family’s financial matters.” He crossed his legs and smoothed his trousers. “Now, what is it you need from me?”

  Thomas huffed, the sound loaded with impatience. “I should think that is obvious.”

  “Not entirely,” Harrison said. “You wished for me to marry an heiress and I have done so. Now what?”

  His mother and brother exchanged a look. “Now we discuss the family debts and how we are to keep the Archer assets from being seized by creditors.”

  “Oh, I don’t care about any of that.”

  His mother’s skin paled as she stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  He spoke slowly, carefully, to get his point across. “I do not care. About any of that.”

  “What on earth does that mean?” Thomas’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “As a member of this family, you must care. Our finances are the whole reason for your marriage.”

  “Convenient I am a member of the family only when it suits you both.”

  “You have always been a member of this family, Harrison,” his mother said, looking down her nose at him.

  “And yet I never received one word from either of you while I was in Paris. Not a cable or a letter. Not even a message in a bottle. Thomas was there two years ago and never bothered to look me up.”

  The skin above Thomas’s collar turned a dull red. “I was attending to business.”

  “Yet you found time to visit Le Chabanais. Twice.” The famous French brothel was known to host many dignitaries and aristocrats, many of whom Harrison had become friendly with. It hadn’t taken long for word of Thomas’s visits to reach Harrison’s ears.

  “This is absurd.” His mother sat forward. “We are not here to coddle your hurt feelings. This family needs the Webster money and you will turn it over, as a dutiful son should do.”

  He folded his hands and cocked his head. “I am not a dutiful son—and you will get no money from me.”

  The other two gasped, and his mother grabbed on to the edge of the sofa until her knuckles turned white. “What did you say?”

  He knew there was nothing wrong with his mother’s hearing so he didn’t answer, merely let them sit with the news.

  His mother’s face twisted into the ugliness he remembered so well from his childhood. “Why, you ungrateful little—”

  “Harrison, please.” Thomas leaned forward, his gaze wild with panic. “My family . . .”

  Harrison said nothing, allowing desperation to permeate the air, rolling and thickening, until he could nearly taste it. This moment was even better than he’d anticipated. It was sweet, a balm to the soul of an eight-year-old boy who’d craved his family’s approval.

  As he grew older, he’d realized that approval wouldn’t come. That he was forever branded as the tarnished second son, the one who merely achieved at failing.

  His mother lashed out once more. “You never could do as you were told. We should have known you wouldn’t help us, that you would remain selfish. You are a disgrace to the Archer name.”

  Unbothered, Harrison allowed her vitriol to wash over him. The moment was too perfect, too precious to ruin by giving her words any power over him. The time for that had long passed.

  “Mother, please,” Thomas barked, then turned to Harrison, his eyes beseeching. “What do you want? To see me beg?”

  Now they were arriving at a solution. Good.

  “I want my ten percent back.”

  His brother blinked a few times. “Of Archer Industries?”

  “Correct. I want you to sign over ten percent of the stock back to me. It’s what I had before Winthrop disowned me.”

  Thomas owned fifteen percent of the stock, while his mother controlled forty percent. Ten percent should mean nothing to them.

  “What do we get in exchange?” his mother asked, obviously the shrewder negotiator of the two.

  Harrison gestured to the room. “This house, plus an allowance.” No use informing them how small that allowance would be, at least not yet.

  “That is insulting,” his brother said. “I demand that you pay off all our debts, as well.”

  “No. Ten percent of the stock and I’ll pay off the mortgage on this house. That is my final offer.”

  Silence descended as the weight of what he’d said settled in the room. Finally, his brother shifted toward his mother. “It’s what he had before and controlling interest wouldn’t leave the family. We’ll still have the business, the stock dividends, plus this house will be out of debt. I think it’s a good deal.”

  Christ, his brother was a terrible businessman. No wonder they were on the verge of losing everything.

  “You cannot have a seat on the board,” his mother said to Harrison. “Ten percent and the last name of Archer doesn’t entitle you to that.” When he said nothing, she dipped her chin toward the leather satchel at his feet. “And I suppose the necessary paperwork is in your satchel.”

  Harrison withdrew the legal transfer form and placed it on the tea table between them, along with a pen. “Sign at the bottom.”

  “Now?” Thomas frowned.

  “Yes, now.” He would not put it past his family to renege on their bargain once they concluded this conversation.

  As Thomas read the document, Harrison and his mother sat in silence, her gaze shooting daggers at him. Because he knew from experience that it annoyed her, he offered no outward reaction of any kind, his face impassive, as if they were strangers. Her disappointment and hatred bounced off him like one of Maddie’s tennis balls.

  Apparently satisfied, Thomas signed with a flourish and handed the papers back to Harrison. “There.”

  Trying not to grin, Harrison put the papers away. “I should tell you what this means, both for the business and for you personally.”

  “What are you talking about?” Thomas asked.

  Harrison put his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers. “With that ten percent you just signed over—my rightful ten percent, I might add—I now possess controlling interest in Archer Industries.”

  Thomas’s brow furrowed. “That is impossible.”

  “I promise you, it isn’t. I have spent the past few months making tender offers to the largest shareholders. To my surprise, most were willing to sell their shares to me for an inflated price. I now own fifty-one percent of the stock.”

  “How was I not informed of this?” his brother asked.

  Harrison gave him a small smile. “You’d be surprised the silence a few greenbacks can buy in this town. Any guesses as to what I’ll do next?”

  Thomas began breathing hard and sweat broke out on his forehead. “The board . . .”

  “Will do whatever I say,” Harrison finished. “Including remove you as president, just as soon as I am able to call a board meeting.”

  “You cannot do that!” his mother shouted. “This is your father’s company.”

  “Wrong.” Elation surged in his veins, the victory making him dizzy, as he grabbed his satchel and rose. “It’s my company now.”

  His brother leapt to his feet, his face turning a deep crimson. “We won’t let you do this. That company is my legacy, my children’s legacy. You cannot just take it over.”

  “Simple arithmetic and the shares of stock I hold say that I can, actually.” He started for the door. This meeting was over.

  “And what of your wife?”

  Harrison paused. The menace in his brother’s question hadn’t been lost on him. “What of my wife?”

  “She’s about to compete in the ladies’ Nationals tennis tournament, is she not?”

  “And what concern is it of yours?”

  Thomas studied Harrison’s face, and his brother must have sensed a weakness because he pushed. “I heard she was devastate
d by the recent scandal, how she can hardly hold her head up in public. Would be a shame if another scandal distracted her from the biggest match of her life.”

  “Or if she tripped and had to withdraw from the tournament,” his mother added. “You know how clumsy young girls can be.”

  Hands curling into fists, Harrison took a step closer. “Are you threatening her?”

  “No, of course not,” Thomas said, though his tone conveyed otherwise. “We know how much she means to you.”

  “More than anything else in the world, I’d say,” his mother put in.

  Horror robbed him of speech for a long second. How was he related to these people? Did they care nothing for decency and principle?

  You know the answer to that question.

  There was no bottom, no limit to how low they would go to maintain their privilege. He could not allow Maddie to get dragged into the gutter with them. If she was unable to play in this tournament because of his family, he would never forgive himself.

  Hardening his voice, he stared them both down. “Let me be perfectly clear so there are no misunderstandings. If harm should befall her in any way, if she sheds one tear over anything to do with this family, I will burn your entire world to ashes.”

  “We are only asking for what is fair,” his brother said.

  “Oh, I think you are getting exactly what you deserve.” Spinning on his heel, he marched out of the room and right out of the house.

  Kit lifted his half-empty glass in another toast. “Let us toast to Harrison. May the rest of us get every single thing we desire in the span of a few weeks, as well.”

  “Hear, hear!” Preston called loudly.

  Harrison grinned at his friends. Upon returning from the meeting with his family, he’d learned that Maddie was still training with her coach. Not wishing to disturb her, he sent for Kit and Preston to help him celebrate today’s victory over the Archers, and the three of them had been holed up in the smoking room, drinking his father-in-law’s best scotch, for the better part of an hour.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” Harrison said.

  “Are you saying marriage to Maddie is a hardship, then?” Preston asked. “Because I won’t believe it.”

  Not a hardship, but the start had been rocky—which had been entirely his fault. He didn’t wish to discuss the details of his marriage with his friends, even as close as they were. So he shrugged. “There was a moment or two where I worried she wouldn’t break it off with Lockwood.”

  “To be fair, she didn’t,” Kit said. “Thank God for nosy busybodies taking late-night walks.”

  Yes, Harrison owed quite a debt to Mrs. Lusk.

  Thankfully, Maddie had forgiven him and they’d spent last night in his bed, continuing to explore each other. She was the perfect match for him, adventurous and responsive, passionate and demanding. He relished every minute. No matter what else happened, he’d never take for granted that he could touch and hold her, sleep next to her each night.

  He was desperately in love with her. The words were on the tip of his tongue whenever they were together, a burning need to confess everything in his heart. Only she didn’t feel the same . . . and he wasn’t certain she ever would. Not once had she uttered any tender declaration or hinted at stronger feelings for him, other than the way she clung to him in bed.

  And why would she? He had bamboozled her into this marriage, stolen her away from the man she’d actually wanted to marry. If not for Harrison, she would be a duchess, one of the most powerful women in England. Would she always harbor a small amount of resentment toward him for preventing that? His heart twisted, agony spreading in his chest.

  I’d rather make the man’s fantasies come true.

  He’d never forget those words as long as he lived. And yes, he knew she cared about him and enjoyed their time in bed. Yet it wasn’t enough. He wanted it all—her body and her heart.

  Unfortunately, it seemed dashed unlikely.

  Preston leaned forward to refill his glass. “Any of the shareholders give you trouble?”

  “No. The stock price has been steadily falling ever since Thomas took over. They were happy to make a substantial amount of money by selling their shares to me.”

  Kit sighed dramatically. “I wish I could have seen your mother’s face—Thomas’s, too. That room must have been colder than a February blizzard in Maine.”

  Harrison swallowed a mouthful of scotch, feeling the smoky burn all the way to his stomach. “They were surprised. Angry. Horrified. Exactly what you’d expect.” It had been immensely satisfying, a moment he was unlikely to ever forget.

  “I can’t believe you were able to pull it off so quietly,” Preston said. “Normally these takeovers are long public battles, like when Vanderbilt tried to get his hands on Erie Railroad.”

  “No one was paying attention,” Harrison said. “Thomas was busy traveling and spending money, and he didn’t stop to notice what was happening with the company.”

  “He’s a nincompoop,” Preston said, direct and to the point as usual. “Always has been.”

  “While that is undoubtedly true,” Harrison said, “that nincompoop threatened Maddie today.” Harrison shook his head. “My mother, too.”

  Kit froze, his glass halfway to his mouth. “What?”

  “Wait, what do you mean, they threatened her?” Preston’s face darkened, the expression one that had sent many a man scurrying away in fear.

  Harrison told his friends about the offhanded comments made by his family. “They said she’s the most important thing in the world to me.”

  “They aren’t wrong,” Kit said, “but it is beyond low to threaten a man’s wife.” He looked at Preston. “Remember when Thomas held that young boy under the waves until he almost drowned?”

  Preston nodded. “The Newbold son, wasn’t it? The one who moved out West.”

  Harrison recalled that afternoon, when Thomas had picked on the skinnier, younger boy. “I was blamed for it, incidentally.” At his friends’ surprised expression, he elaborated. “Mrs. Newbold marched to the cottage and gave my mother an earful. Thomas denied his involvement, saying I was responsible instead. I couldn’t sit for two days.”

  “Jesus,” Preston muttered. “And here I’d always wished for a brother.”

  “My brother and I used to get into terrible fights,” Kit said. “Still do, actually.”

  Preston pointed at Harrison. “You must be careful. Keep a close eye on her until the tournament. I can give you the names of men you could hire to watch over her.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Harrison said. “Probably just bluster. A trapped animal lashing out.”

  Kit frowned. “I wouldn’t give your family the benefit of the doubt. Ever.”

  “I agree,” Preston said. “Maybe warn your wife, so she is aware of the threat.”

  “No.” Harrison’s voice was sharp and loud in the cavernous room. “Absolutely not. She’s about to play in the biggest tournament of her life. I cannot let my family distract her in any way.”

  Preston’s brow wrinkled in concern, but he raised his glass. “To our families. May they all rot in hell.”

  “Indeed.” Kit toasted with his tumbler, as well. “To a friend in the morning!”

  “And a mistress at night,” Preston continued.

  “To fill us with pleasure and blissful delight.” Harrison finished their favorite toast and tapped his glass to the others. Then all three men drank.

  “Speaking of friends,” Harrison said. “How is Forrest? Anyone heard from him lately?” The four of them were like brothers, and it felt strange not to have Forrest here.

  “In Chicago, last I heard.” Kit shook his head. “Saw him in April for dinner. He was blind drunk before we even finished the first course. Had to get a waiter to help me carry him out to the carriage.”

  “He’s always drunk,” Preston told Harrison, his voice low and serious. “Worse than before.”

  “Christ.” Forrest had always l
oved to drink, but this seemed excessive. Harrison grimaced. “Should we try to help him?”

  “I’ve tried,” Kit said. “He won’t hear it, doesn’t care.”

  “I took him to the Adirondacks to try and dry him out,” Preston said. “He slipped out of a window when I wasn’t looking and disappeared on me. That’s the last I saw of him.”

  “When was that?”

  “Early May.”

  “How do you know he’s in Chicago?” Harrison asked.

  “I hired a Pinkerton,” Kit admitted. “He’s been keeping a tab on Forrest for me.”

  Unease swept across Harrison’s nape, pressing down on his shoulders. He’d been gone for three years and hadn’t given much thought to those he left behind. Forrest . . . Maddie. Even Kit and Preston had been a distant memory until they came to visit him. “I am sorry. I should have paid better attention.”

  “Should have paid better attention to what?”

  Silk rustled as Maddie sauntered into the room. Harrison’s heart clenched in his chest, a visceral reaction that occurred every time he saw her. As if the organ belonged to her and only her, and needed to prove it.

  Now out of her tennis whites, she’d changed into a dark green day dress that hugged all his favorite curves. Christ almighty, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her again.

  The men rose and Harrison went to kiss her cheek. “Hello, wife.”

  After greeting Kit and Preston, she settled in a chair. “This looks cozy. Drinking at noon? Are we celebrating?”

  “We are. I’ve just come from calling on my family.”

  “I assume that went well, considering.” She swept her hand over the tumblers of scotch and half-lit cigars.

  “Indeed, it did.” He gave her a wide grin. “For me, anyway.”

  “Congratulations. I assume the takeover is complete.”

  “Not quite, but I have controlling interest and I’ll remove my brother as president just as soon as I can call a board meeting.”

  “We should be going,” Preston said, finishing his drink and stabbing out his cigar. “And leave the bride and groom to continue enjoying their honeymoon.”

  “Agreed.” Kit rose, then bent to kiss Maddie’s cheek. “Not sure if I can make the tournament, so give ’em hell, Maddie.”