Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature

by Susan Johnson

  She could live like a queen in Florence on twenty-thousand U.S. dollars. But it would never do to appear overanxious, and a first offer was by definition a first offer. Her brow creased in a slight frown. “If you were willing to allow us thirty thousand we could buy an occasional gown as well.” She offered him a smile as though of shared commiseration. “You know how young girls are about gowns and fripperies. And perhaps if you could allow us just a bit more income, Jo could continue the violin and voice lessons she so adores.”

  Hazard hadn’t seen such lamentable acting since Trey played the part of a frog in grammar school. “Why don’t we say forty thousand and be done with the dickering. Sheldon will write you the first check. You may receive payments either yearly or monthly, whichever you prefer.”

  For a split second she wondered if she could get more, but one look at Hazard’s grim expression changed her mind. “Yearly would be very nice.” She was already planning on investing in the new railroad stocks that were—according to gossip—paying such excellent dividends. “How very generous of you,” she murmured, sensible of the level of enthusiasm forty thousand a year required. “I told Jo you were the most wonderful, wonderful man and now she will see for herself how unselfish and caring you are.”

  “Speaking of Jo,” Hazard said, keeping his voice deliberately mild, “would you object if she were to stay with us in Helena for a time? Our family would like an opportunity to get to know her better.” He was careful not to express undue interest. Lucy’s mercenary antennae would be put on alert, and if he were inclined to give additional funds to anyone, he’d prefer giving them directly to his daughter.

  “What a very nice idea.” A fortune hunter at heart, Lucy immediately saw her stipend increasing in direct relation to the charm her daughter could exude. Smiling warmly, she made a mental note to give fair warning to Jo; the girl could be vexing. “We’d love to stay,” she cooed. “I’ve always felt that spring here is unbelievably beautiful.”

  For a second Hazard questioned whether he would regret being chivalrous, whether he should insist she leave immediately as part of their bargain. But a moment later, he decided a few more days of Lucy couldn’t be too alarming. “It’s settled, then. If you and Jo would care to come for tea this afternoon, we’d enjoy having you. Say, at five?”

  “Thank you, we’d love to!” Once more marvelously solvent, she was in excellent spirits. “And thank you, too, for this really magnificent suite,” she added with a charming smile. “Although I’m not sure I didn’t like that lovely little room you had in Diamond City better. We had such fun there, didn’t we?”

  That room in Diamond City had just cost him forty thousand a year, although, in truth, Lucy wasn’t to blame for the intemperance of his youth. He could have refused her those days in Diamond City; he could have sent her away. “It was a long time ago,” he replied, neutrally. “Diamond City’s a ghost town now.”

  “It can’t be!”

  “I’m afraid so. The last gold was taken out years ago.” Not inclined to reminisce about the past with Lucy, he came to his feet and glanced at his associate. “Are we ready?”

  Sheldon wasn’t too old to appreciate Lucy’s voluptuous attractions but old enough to be wary of her artful flirtation. He also had a lawyer’s cynicism about human nature and an accountant’s reluctance to spend money. Hazard had overpaid her; his employer hadn’t even attempted to negotiate, a grievous sin in his estimation. But he wasn’t paid to give unwanted advice and no one had asked him for his opinion. Walking over to the marquetry table, he set the check next to Lucy’s teacup.

  “Thank you, Sheldon,” Hazard said.

  “Thank you, Sheldon.” Lucy’s tone was warm and silken, her gaze lifted to his, beguiling. “I do hope we have an opportunity to meet again.” Any man who had access to the Braddock-Black checkbook was a friend of hers.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Call me Lucy,” she purred.

  “You’re on your own, Sheldon,” Hazard said with a grin. “I’m leaving.”

  There was the smallest hesitation before Sheldon followed.

  Lucy noticed and her smile a moment later as she perused the check in her hand wasn’t entirely about the money. Sheldon could turn out to be very useful.

  Chapter 7

  In the following days, Lucy contented herself with looking up old friends and dispensing some of her new funds at the better dress shops in town. It would never do to be seen looking dowdy in a backwater town like Helena. She even indulged herself in a new carriage, which purchase caused Hazard a degree of apprehension; it gave the appearance she might stay.

  Once properly outfitted, Lucy began accepting invitations from all her old friends and like a duck to water reentered the frivolous round of social entertainments so dear to her heart. She didn’t mind that Jo spent more time with the Braddock-Blacks than with her. In fact, it turned out to be quite convenient to be independent of her daughter. A great many prominent Helena men were apparently bored with their wives, not an unusual circumstance in the urbane lives of the rich. They were looking for new amusements at the same time Lucy was looking to be amused.

  A truly peerless match of motives.

  The servants at the Plantation House Hotel kept a running tally of her male visitors and the gifts delivered to her from expensive jewelers. Their vigilance was partly in retaliation against Lucy’s continuous threats to have them fired for a multitude of frivolous infractions—and in part because a young, well-dressed man paid them for the information.

  In short order, Lucy’s social calendar became so crowded, she scarcely had time to scan Gosimo’s increasingly pitiful letters when they arrived. Could she help it if he was lamenting his marriage? Did she care about his pathetic existence in his fifty-room villa? Could she help it if he preferred a well-endowed bank account to a well-endowed wife? He could have married her and ignored the wishes of his noble family. What good was a title, anyway, if you didn’t have two centesimi to rub together? Well, he’d secured his fortune, she supposed, but she’d secured one as well and her transaction didn’t require marriage to a gargoyle. Should she decide to return to Florence, she might deign to see him—he was adorably handsome. Now what was she going to wear to Estelle’s grand soiree tonight? The new embroidered silk surah or the pretty silver tulle? Stepping over Cosimo’s last letter that languished unopened on her dressing room floor, she opened her armoire and surveyed her much-improved wardrobe.

  Jo’s social schedule was equally busy for Hazard and Blaze included her in all their plans and they entertained often. She also was offered an engineer’s position at one of their mining companies if she wished it and much as she’d tried to ascertain her mother’s feelings on the subject of staying or leaving, she’d not yet received an intelligible reply.

  “There’s no rush to make a decision,” Hazard had assured her. “Enjoy yourself first.”

  And she did, spending many hours every day in the company of her half sister and brother who responded to her with varying styles of friendship. More conventional and immersed in her work, Daisy enjoyed Jo’s intellect, quick wit and modern notions of a woman’s role in the world. They rode together and attended charity events that Daisy supported; they talked at length about the Absarokee culture that had become a part of her life literally overnight and visited a number of relatives who still lived in the tribal way. Her Absarokee heritage was at once intriguing and so strange from what she’d known living in Florence, that Jo found herself feeling occasionally as though she were straddling two worlds.

  In Trey, she found an instant boon companion, their temperaments and sense of adventure well matched. Having come of age in Florence’s informal, expatriate society of writers, poets, artists and dilettantes of every stripe, Jo viewed personal freedom as a right, nonconformity as admirable and intellectual stimulation as the piquant reason for living.

  She was not her mother’s daughter.

  Something her father took note of with delight and at
times chagrin. She was too much like him to rest easy. And on those occasions when Jo and Trey kicked up their heels in youthful pleasures, he and Blaze did their best to keep gossip within bounds. It helped, of course, that he was a man of wealth and prominence, that Blaze’s personal fortune had long made her immune to censure.

  It helped that Jon Hazard Black generated a measure of fear.

  Perhaps more than anything though, everyone remembered Hazard in his youth and shrugged in resignation. Blood will tell, they would say with a half smile and a nod. It’s a fact of life.

  Chapter 8

  The first week in May, Flynn Ito rode into town with a dozen of his men. Stewart Warner was being honored for his work on behalf of the Indian schools and Flynn was not only a friend but an important benefactor.

  News of the attack on the Empire Cattle Company had preceded him and while everyone understood the Empire’s infringement on Flynn’s land required retribution, two men were dead—one of them the Earl of Elmhurst’s son. There would be an inquiry of course. But the results were inevitable. Not a judge in the territory would rule against a large landowner. The encounter would be ruled self-defense and in a way it was. If you didn’t defend what was yours, you wouldn’t have it long.

  As Flynn entered Stewart Warner’s home that evening, he took note of the servants’ diffidence with an inward wince. He disliked seeing that look of fear, as though he were going to call them out for not greeting him with enough deference. Although he should be used to apprehensive looks by now. A man his size and heritage was bound to be viewed with alarm regardless of his reputation.

  Running a finger under the starched collar of his shirt as he moved toward the drawing room, he cursed the necessity to dress in evening rig. He was uncomfortable out of range clothes. He was also mildly uneasy being here tonight so soon after his assault on Empire land. Everyone would want to question him; the boldest actually would. And he’d have to field those queries with as much politeness as he could manage, because tonight of all nights, he didn’t want to embarrass Stewart. The man deserved every honor he was being accorded.

  Ignoring the sudden hush that descended when he entered the drawing room, Flynn made straight for Stewart. He walked slowly, familiar with being scrutinized—for his long hair, the oblique tilt to his eyes, the fact that he could outdraw anyone in Montana. He discounted his handsome face, although the ladies who watched him with such longing did not, and they were all hopeful because Flynn was staying in town tonight. Louise Butler had seen him arrive at his town house and the titillating news had spread like wildfire. Which no doubt accounted for the great number of women who went out of their way to smile and bid him “Good evening” as he moved across the room.

  “You should come into town more often,” Stewart said with a grin when Flynn reached him. “I can practically hear the female hearts beating from here.”

  Flynn didn’t pretend not to understand and his smile held a distinct touch of Irish charm. “If every bloody cattle baron didn’t want my land, maybe I could. Congratulations, Stewart. You deserve this celebration.”

  “Glad you could make it.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks to you, there’s hundreds of kids going to school who otherwise wouldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t have built those schools without generous donors like you, my boy. You deserve a medal too,” the heavy-set, older man replied, tapping the gold medallion pinned to his lapel. “Right purty, ain’t it? Lillibet designed it,” he added, proudly. “And if’n you should ever get it in your head to take the plunge and get hitched, I might be willing to cede over a couple of copper mines for the right son-in-law.” He guffawed at Flynn’s sudden discomposure. “Jest a thought, my boy. It ain’t as if I haven’t offered you her hand afore.”

  Stewart’s daughter Elizabeth was sweet and pretty and so utterly innocent she’d make a perfect wife for any man looking for pure unadulterated wholesomeness. A shame he didn’t have an eye for innocence. “If I ever decide to marry, Stewart, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Stewart winked. “I jus’ want last bid, Flynn. That’s all I ask.” Since Lillibet adored Flynn with a schoolgirl’s crush, her father wasn’t offering his daughter without her consent. “Think about it. You wouldn’t have to fend off those Empire renegades everyday. You and Lillibet could retire to Europe for all

  I care.”

  “You’re tempting me, Stewart,” Flynn said with a grin. “You mean I could sleep again at night?”

  “Since when do you want to waste your time sleeping,” Trey interposed, coming up on the men. “There’s better things to do at night. Not that I have to tell you that, Flynn.” The two men were not only good friends, but also the most eligible bachelors in Montana. Their good looks and wealth, along with their reputed stamina in bed, occasioned a steady supply of women in hot pursuit.

  “I don’t know about you, Trey, but on a working ranch we go to bed early.”

  “You may go to bed early. As for sleeping”—Trey’s brows rose—“that I doubt.”

  “Well, boys will be boys; that’s the way of the world,” Stewart noted with a grin. “But you’all are going to have to settle down someday. And I’m a patient man. Now how about some bourbon and branch water. We’re all too sober.”

  Even in the hard-drinking frontier society, Flynn drank more than usual that evening—always out of his element in tie and tails, not in the mood for all the ladies looking for an invitation to join him in bed later, not sure himself why none of the women appealed. Perhaps he’d been up country too long and was out of touch with city flirtations, perhaps there was a sameness about the pretty faces that elicited ennui rather than interest. Whatever the reason, he found himself watching the slow-moving hands of the clock, hoping the after-dinner speeches wouldn’t be too lengthy, and planning to leave as soon as courtesy allowed.

  He barely touched his food, his conversation was minimal, his constantly refilled glass systematically emptied as though it was his mission to outdrink everyone in the room. With luck, Lillibet wouldn’t corner him before he could escape. Although, he could already hear the orchestra warming up in the ballroom and she always insisted on the first dance with him. She was so clearly adoring, he was running out of polite excuses to her invitations; church socials, Grange picnics and the like weren’t high on his list of priorities. In the meantime . . . oh, God, Clara Moore was getting up to sing.

  He waved a waiter over to refill his glass.

  Chapter 9

  Jo arrived as dessert was being served.

  She stood in the doorway for a moment scanning the room and catching sight of Trey, smiled.

  As Flynn followed Trey’s gaze and saw the glorious, darkhaired woman, even Clara’s strident voice faded into oblivion. That’s why Trey had been saving the chair on his other side— for her. Struck with an inexplicable surge of jealousy, Flynn begrudged him her beauty, her lush smile, the sensual pleasure such a woman would accord.

  She was resplendently female, strikingly voluptuous, moving toward them with a long-legged, almost mannish stride. But no one would mistake her for a man in that pale ivory gown that bared her shoulders and the half-swell of her breasts visible above the low decolletage; her tightly corseted waist was so narrow, he found himself unconsciously flexing his fingers in anticipation. An obvious half blood, her skin tones lured the touch; her exotic dark eyes held a hint of sexual promise; and her full mouth, half curved in a tantalizing smile, was definitely made to be kissed.

  She arrived at the table in a wafting drift of violet scent. It suited her rare beauty. And her smile at close range held a delectable warmth. Trey introduced her to those she didn’t know; Flynn and a woman from Chicago were new to her. After she was seated, Trey leaned in close, one arm around the back of her chair and murmured something in her ear that made her laugh. He saw that her champagne glass was filled, that she had a dessert of her choice. And then he sat back and smiled at her like a connoisseur admiring his newest purchas
e. “Is there anything else your little heart desires, darling?”

  She struck his arm playfully with her closed fan, said, “Behave,” and then turned to speak to the woman on her left.

  More resentful than he would have thought possible, Flynn shot Trey a gimlet-eyed look. “She must be yours.”

  Trey’s brows flew up and then he grinned. “Hell, no, she’s my sister.”

  Flynn tried not to smile at the gratifying possibilities. “Is she available?”

  “Depends what you mean.”

  “She’s very beautiful.”

  “You’re not her type,” Trey said.

  “Are you her chaperon?” Flynn’s voice was mild.

  Trey scowled. “What if I said I was?”

  “Maybe I’d have to ask her whether you were?”

  “Ask me what?” Jo inquired, leaning forward enough to see around her brother.

  Flynn’s dark gaze held hers for a small heated moment. “Whether you liked Clara’s singing,” he said, husky and low.

  “I do—very much.” Jo smiled at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, patently aware that he wasn’t talking about singing.

  “Just a minute here,” Trey muttered under his breath, sandwiched between a scandal in the making. “Just a damned minute.”

  “How old are you?” Flynn’s voice was hushed.

  “Old enough,” Jo replied, equally softly.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  She glanced around; everyone was still seated, Clara was singing. “Now?”

  “Not here.”

  “Where?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Trey growled. “Jesus, Jo, behave for Christ’s sake.”