Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Elizabeth Rolls

  Recognition hit both of them at the same time. Marjorie didn’t squeal like Franny had, but her hug was just as tight.

  So was Jenny’s.

  Marjorie broke the hug first, and took a moment to slap Connor’s arm. “I always knew you’d squirreled her away somewhere, just to get her away from her mother and evil stepfather.”

  Jenny shook her head, but Connor laughed.

  “If only, Marjorie, if only.” He nodded toward an empty table near the arched doorway they’d just walked through. “Why don’t you two sit down? I’ll get us something to drink.”

  Jenny grabbed his arm. “Did you know—”

  “No, I didn’t know she’d be here.” He gave her a wink. “I’ll be right back.”

  Visiting with Marjorie was like it had been with Franny; the years instantly disappeared. However, they didn’t talk about other people they knew, instead, Marjorie told her about living in New York, and how she and Wilbur had adopted two children, because try as they might, she just couldn’t get pregnant.

  “Your turn,” Marjorie said. “Where did Connor whisk you off to?”

  “He didn’t,” Jenny said. “My mother did.” She was thinking about Marjorie’s saying they’d adopted two children. A boy who was now five, and a girl who was three, but they’d been babies when they’d been adopted—from a home for unwed mothers.

  Marjorie stared for a moment and then sighed. “She really did?”

  Jenny nodded, not wanting to go into the entire story. Marjorie might not understand, having adopted two children from a place similar to one that Jenny was attempting to change.

  “I’m sorry about that comment I made earlier. About your mother and stepfather.” Marjorie glanced to where Connor stood, talking to Wilbur Cook, Marjorie’s husband.

  He had returned with drinks, and with Wilbur, and after making the introductions, had walked Wilbur a distance away, giving her and Marjorie privacy to visit. Just one more reason she’d fallen in love with him all over again.

  With her voice lowered, Marjorie continued, “It’s just that she was so, well, indifferent about you being gone and when I questioned more, she was downright rude. So was her husband. They said they’d call the police if I came back, asking about you one more time. But that didn’t stop me from continuing to look for you.”

  Jenny opened her mouth to apologize, but Marjorie gasped, with her eyes on Jenny’s neck.

  “That necklace!” Marjorie said.

  Jenny’s heart softened and she touched the necklace. “Connor bought it for me.”

  “Ducky! I saw it in the window at Tiffany’s two days ago and knew Wilbur would never lay out that many clams for something that only glitters.” Laughing, she added, “It has to be tuned and play music for him to break open the safe.”

  “Tiffany’s?” Jenny asked, her hand starting to tremble. They weren’t mock diamonds; they were real. Even she knew Tiffany & Co. was the most expensive jeweler in New York, if not all of America. They didn’t sell mock anything.

  “Yes, Tiffany’s.” Marjorie’s gaze then went over Jenny’s shoulders. “Oh, jeepers-creepers, here comes the flat tire himself. Our big egg, the governor.” She exaggerated a moan. “At least he doesn’t have his little male gold-digger with him. That’s one man I wish would fall off the face of the earth.” Whispering lower, she added, “He hasn’t changed since high school.”

  “Who?” Jenny asked, seeing Connor stepping away from the wall.

  “Donald Forsythe,” Marjorie whispered. “He’s as obnoxious as ever. And get this. He’s married to the governor’s niece. Poor woman.”

  Jenny’s entire body had turned to ice.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  While listening to Wilbur talk about how musical his five-year-old son was, Connor slowly made his way toward the table where Jenny and Marjorie sat. The governor was making a beeline toward him, most likely due to the senator walking beside the governor. Hughes must have pointed him out, and was on his way to make introductions.

  That would be fine. The sooner they presented their case to the governor and their hope that he would support the senator’s bill, the quicker he and Jenny could leave. Although, that might be difficult. He hadn’t known that Marjorie and Wilbur would be here tonight, but was happy that Jenny had been reunited with yet another friend.

  She’d gone through some very hard times, and he was anxious to show her that she no longer needed to live in hiding. That’s what she’d been doing.

  He knew because that’s what he’d been doing too, just a different kind of hiding. He’d hidden in plain sight; she’d hidden at Gretchen’s, delivering babies for other girls in hiding.

  All because neither of them had wanted to put the past behind them and move on.

  “Mr. McCormick,” Governor Smith said, not caring that Wilbur was still talking. “I’ve been wanting to personally meet members of your family. I know they’ve followed my years in office and I’d like the opportunity to make you all aware of the changes I foresee in the future.”

  The man was between him and the table that Jenny sat at, and short of shouldering past him, Connor had no choice but to stop and shake his hand. “Hello,” he said. “I can’t speak for my entire family. I can only speak for myself, and relay information as a sitting member of the board on the business.” He had yet to attend his first board meeting, but didn’t mind dropping that new position.

  “Of course, of course.” The governor laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’d met your father years ago. He was a good man. A very good man.”

  Tall, with wide shoulders and mouth that looked too small for his face, until he opened it, Governor Smith was blocking Connor’s view of the table, of Jenny. “If you met my father, you’ll know how important children were to him. To quote him, ‘All men, rich or poor, married or not, are responsible for the children of their community,’ and I feel the same way.” His father had said that many times, but until this moment, he hadn’t recalled it.

  “Of course, we all do, we all do. Let’s get a drink and sit down to discuss things.” Governor Smith glanced around, and shouted, “Don? Don?” Shaking his head, he mumbled, “Where is that imbecile?”

  Taking the opportunity to step aside and look over the governor while the man was looking around, Connor noted the empty table. Instantly troubled, he glanced around, searching the crowd.

  “I’ll find him,” Senator Hughes said.

  Connor didn’t give a nickel about having a drink or talking with the governor right now. He had to find Jenny.

  A hand touched his arm; he spun in that direction.

  “Jenny went to the powder room,” Marjorie whispered. “I told her I’d let you know. Wilbur and I are vamoosing. We’ll meet up again when you’re done talking to the big cheese.”

  “Thanks,” he replied. “I’m glad you were here.”

  “I have questions, Connor,” Marjorie said. “I need to know where she’s been and why, but I’ll hold them for another time. I’m just happy to know she’s with you. The two of you have always belonged together.”

  “Aw, there he is!” the governor said. “Don, we need some drinks, right here at this table!” In a more affable tone, the governor continued, “Connor, let’s sit down at this table right here. Just me and you.”

  Because that was the table Jenny had been sitting at, Connor agreed. Even if she didn’t see him sitting there right away, he’d see her walk through the door. He hoped she didn’t have any issues with that dress in the powder room. It fit her like a glove. The moment her hotel room door had opened, his jaw had nearly hit the floor. She looked cute, beautiful, no matter what she wore, but her in that dress had set his blood on fire. Flames were still licking at his veins. He couldn’t wait for this to be over so they could have some alone time to pet. Neck. Flat out neck, that was what he wanted to do with Jenny.

  “Bring
me my usual,” the governor said, “and get Mr. McCormick whatever he wants, and be quick about it.”

  “What will you have, Mr. McCormick?”

  A familiarity in the voice made the hair on Connor’s neck rise as he turned his head to look at the man standing next to the table. He’d put on weight, gotten pudgy, but as sure as he lived and breathed, it was the same Donald Forsythe as he’d known back in school.

  He still parted his hair in the center, flattened it with so much oil his head looked like a wet football helmet and his brown eyes still stuck out like a frog’s.

  Loathing struck Connor full force, but that was quickly followed by humor at having Donald wait on him. Donald had to hate that as much as he had hauling his luggage at the train station years ago.

  “I’ll have an el presidente,” Connor said. In part because he didn’t trust Donald to not attempt to slip him some bathtub gin—rum was a much safer choice—and two, because the name provided him with a hint of humor over the entire situation. He then added, “Don,” because he remembered that Donald had hated being called that.

  “And don’t dawdle,” the governor said.

  “Good help is hard to find,” Connor said, just because he could.

  The governor let out a huff. “He married my wife’s niece. Still don’t see what she sees in him, but they have three kids and he needs a job to feed them.”

  Putting Donald out of his mind, because he had far more important people to think about, Connor glanced at the doorway. “Speaking of children, a bill that Senator Hughes is working on concerns children. Infants and their mothers.”

  “Well, if Brent is working on it, it’ll make its way to my desk.”

  “It’s if it’ll get signed or not that concerns me,” Connor replied, with one eye still on the doorway. “And many other people I know.”

  “Well, Mr. McCormick, I’ve put in a bid to run for the White House, and from that desk I’ll be able to sign bills into law all across this great nation. I’ll need support of course...”

  Connor’s thoughts drowned out the governor’s well-rehearsed speech. It shouldn’t take this long just to visit the powder room. Maybe she came in through another doorway and was looking for him, lost amongst the crowd. He gave the room a fast scan, but there were too many people to see beyond those closest to the table.

  “It’s this bill I’m interested in right now, Governor.” Connor stood. “Please excuse me, but I need to find someone.”

  The governor said something, but Connor was already out the door, looking for the ladies’ room. There was a sign at the end of the hall, and halfway to it, he ran into Donald, carrying a tray with two drinks.

  “Governor already dismissed you?” Donald asked with a sneer.

  Connor made his laugh sound carefree. “Not hardly, Don.”

  Donald bristled.

  Connor picked up the el presidente drink off the tray, swallowed it, and set the empty glass back on Donald’s tray.

  “Same old McCormick, has to steal the show,” Donald said.

  “You really need to get over that. High school was a long time ago.” For whatever reason, Franny’s chin music about Sarah and Stephanie came to mind. Forsythe had always thought of himself as a lady’s man and bragged about his conquests. Connor had thought the jerk had been lying, but evidently not. “Didn’t your father teach you anything? Like respect?”

  Lifting his chin, Donald said, “I work for the governor. People have to respect me.”

  Connor scoffed. “I meant the other way around, Don.” He shouldn’t have tried. Forsythe would never change. “Did you get the governor’s niece pregnant too, but had to marry this one because she’s, well, you know, the governor’s niece?”

  Donald’s neck turned red and his eyes narrowed into hate-filled slits.

  Done with him, Connor stepped around him. An old nemesis wasn’t worth his time. He had to find Jenny.

  “Jealous, McCormick?” Don said. “Let me guess—you found out that little prop girl you liked so much wasn’t so faithful after all.”

  Connor had told himself not to listen, but something about Donald’s statement struck him like a knife between the shoulder blades. He stopped, turned to meet Donald’s glare with one of his own. “What did you say?”

  Donald laughed. “Jenny, wasn’t that her name?”

  A rage like he’d never known took over. His fists flew. One right and then a left was all it took before Forsythe was on the floor with the crème de menthe from the governor’s grasshopper drink covering his white shirt and blood trickling from his nose.

  Connor considered pulling Donald to his feet, just so he could knock him down again, but it wasn’t worth it. Jenny would never have done that with Forsythe. Never.

  Ice formed in his bloodstream.

  She wouldn’t have, unless Donald had forced himself on her.

  Furious, torn between wringing Donald’s neck and finding Jenny, Connor chose Jenny. He’d always choose her.

  He ran to the sign for the ladies’ room, pushed open the door and shouted, “Jenny!”

  “There’s no one in here by that name,” a buxom older woman said, shoving the door closed.

  He turned, ran to the first entrance of the banquet room. Luck, a piece of it, had him spying Marjorie. He shouldered his way to her. “Have you seen Jenny?”

  “No. She still isn’t back from the powder room?”

  Scanning the crowd, he shook his head. “No, and she’s not in there, either.” Settling his gaze on Marjorie, he asked, “Did she see anyone before going to the powder room?”

  “No. I saw the governor coming, made a comment about him and Donald working for him, and she said she had to go to the powder room. I told her that I’d let you know.”

  She had to be in her room, hiding, because of what Forsythe had done to her. He’d see that bastard pay for what he’d done. Pay.

  * * *

  Jenny didn’t want to answer the door; Connor was sure to ask why she’d left the banquet room, and she’d have to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to do that here. She wanted to wait until—Oh, dear Lord, why? Why did he have to work for the governor? Why was this happening now?

  The knocking came again, more persistent. Knowing Connor, he’d find a key and open the door if she didn’t answer it, so she crossed the room, turned the key in the lock.

  As soon as the lock clicked, the door was pushed open and she was in Connor’s arms. His hold was so tight she could barely breathe.

  “I was so worried about you,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Why are you in the dark?” he asked.

  She couldn’t tell him it was because she was hiding. Just like she’d been hiding the past seven years.

  He flipped on the switch, showering the room with light. The contrast from being in the dark made her eyes sting and she buried her face against his suit coat so they could adjust.

  “Honey, it’s not your fault,” he said, tightening his arms around her again. “You don’t have to keep hiding. It’s not your fault.”

  Confused, she took a step back, even though she’d much rather have stayed in the comfort of his arms, forget Donald Forsythe ever existed. “What’s not my fault?”

  Compassion or empathy, or something crossed his face as he slowly shook his head. “Jenny, I know.”

  Fear struck, but there was no way he could know that. “Know what?”

  “That Donald Forsythe is...”

  A swooshing sound filled her ears, blocking her hearing and the room spun. She grabbed both sides of her head, but it didn’t help. Her worst nightmare had arrived.

  Connor’s arms were once again around her, holding her upright when she would have otherwise sunk to the floor.

  “It’s all right, honey. It’s all right.”

  The darkn
ess that had threatened to overcome her slowly disappeared as Connor held her, hugged her, kissed the top of her head.

  “It’s all right. I’m here,” he continued to say.

  Her ability to think, to comprehend returned.

  “We’ll make him pay for forcing himself on you,” Connor said. “We’ll make him pay.”

  The anger she heard beneath the compassion in his voice frightened her. She pushed against his chest with both hands until his arms released his hold on her. “Pay for...” Shaking her head to gain clarity, she asked, “Who told you that? That he’d—”

  “No one. I figured it out.”

  “How did you figure it out?”

  He tossed his hands in the air. “Forsythe said something that made me know he was talking about you. I punched him and came up here to find you.”

  “You punched him?”

  “Yes, I punched him. His comment was rude.” He grasped her upper arms. “We’ll hire a lawyer. Talk to Mick. Find a way to make him pay.”

  She covered her face with both hands. “No, Connor. No.” Fear was pouring inside her like water filling a glass. This was bad. So bad. “You—you didn’t tell him about Emily, did you?”

  “No.” He grasped her wrists. “He doesn’t know you became pregnant?”

  She still couldn’t look at him, and kept her hand over her face. “No. Nobody knows, and I want to keep it that way.”

  He pulled her hands away from her face. “He needs to pay for what he did to you. He needs—”

  “No.” Tears sprang forth, hot. So hot it felt as if they scalded her face as they ran down her cheeks. This was getting out of hand. Completely. She had to stop it. Now. There was only one way to do that. “He didn’t force himself on me.”

  He released her wrists and took a step back, hands up like she was pointing a gun at him. “You willingly...”

  The look on his face was pure shock. She almost gagged because the lump in her throat was too big to swallow around. “Yes.”

  “Within weeks of me leaving, you willingly...”

  He stopped again, as if he couldn’t say it.