“That’s my girl. I knew you would help me, and there is so much to do in preparation. I have nothing to wear for one thing.”
After a contemplative pause, a dimpled grin slowly spread across Mandy’s face and she said, “You always have been determined to go somewhere and have an adventure, I guess this is your chance. So what are we waiting for then?” Mandy stood up in an emotional flourish and started toward the attic stairs. “Let’s get to Mum’s cedar chest and pull out that beautiful dress we’ve been admiring for years…Not that this means I approve of any of this, mind you,” Mandy threw over her shoulder when she reached the stairs.
“I know Mandy dearest, you can resume your scolding and dire warnings after I am ready to go,” Victoria laughed.
Mandy giggled.
Now they were the sister team again.
***
From the moment the sisters entered the attic to retrieve their mother’s trunk dress, Victoria’s life was propelled in a direction more determined by fate than by her own hand, even though it was her own hand that brought her to the situation she now faced.
With a few hasty alterations and the addition of some bows and lace, Mandy made their mother’s “trunk dress” fit Victoria beautifully. Topping off the ensemble was Victoria’s newly updated “Sunday best” bonnet, tied with a pretty new pink bow to match her dress.
Two weeks later after an exciting train ride, Victoria arrived in San Francisco. A uniformed driver, who turned out to be one of Worthington’s own drivers, waited for her at the station holding a sign with her name printed on it and transported her to the Palace Hotel in a Worthington carriage.
As she road on velvet seats in the elegant well sprung carriage, Victoria was overwhelmed by the teaming pace and bustle of San Francisco. The buildings were many and large and the number of people was remarkable.
True to its name, the Palace Hotel was a massive marble edifice, appointed with abundant beveled glass, sparkling chandeliers and foliage. Victoria could not understand how Worthington could afford such luxury much less bestow it upon a person he didn’t even know.
This mysterious man was certainly full of surprises. The question was, how many more surprises was she going to meet before this trip was over? She shivered as a wave of foreboding enveloped her.
Upon checking in at the hotel, she received a message to meet Mr. Worthington at “11:00 a.m. the next day at his bank office.”
As unbelievable as it was when considering the neglect of his store, Worthington apparently owned the bank because his name was on it…and it just happened to be just across Market Street in view of the hotel.
Apprehension almost overwhelmed Victoria now that the moment to face Worthington was imminent. But it was too late to go back. So, Victoria slept in a huge comfortable bed with satin sheets, the likes of which she had never even known existed, let alone hoped to lie in and tried not to worry about her meeting with Worthington.
The next morning, she would press out her dress and freshen it the best she could, then she would meet the mysterious Mr. Worthington at his bank.
The question was, would William Worthington bring the magic or would he destroy their lives?
She must prepare herself for whatever was going to happen. And if there was any magic for them, Victoria knew she was going to find it in San Francisco.
CHAPTER 3
“Clear my schedule for two hours tomorrow, starting at eleven o’clock — I have a lunch meeting.” William Worthington looked up from his writing to speak to his secretary, Ernest Pike who had come into the office to deliver papers.
Despite years of being his secretary, Worthington’s deep, quiet tones still frightened Ernest Pike. His trained ear picked up the edge in Worthington’s voice that indicated that whoever he was meeting, he did not like. Worthington was not a man to take lightly despite his impeccable manners and cultured demeanor.
Ernest who had observed Worthington’s maneuvers firsthand knew he could be pleasant and charming while leading his victim to the kill.
“Of course, sir, but may I inquire as to who you will be meeting?” Pike was genuinely curious about who the latest victim might be.
Worthington leaned back into his chair steepling his hands and fixing his gaze on some point on the wall behind Earnest.
“I am not exactly sure. Charles Riley, who ran a hardware store for my father in Fort Worth, Texas, died some time ago, and I have been trying to decide what to do with that useless store. Riley ran it for years, but there has been no profit since Riley died.”
“Now, there appears to be someone running the store besides the accountant that has been hired to oversee it, because I received a very interesting letter from this individual demanding I do something about it.” The iron edge in William’s voice spoke volumes about the fate of the letter’s author.
“Demanding, sir?” A cold shiver touched Earnest’s spine…who would have been such a fool?
“Yes, I think the word demanding fits quite nicely.” Worthington’s expression was thoughtful.
“I think that was a terrible mistake, sir,” Pike replied earnestly.
“Indeed, I think I agree with you,” William said.
Poor, demanding soul, whoever it was, Pike privately thought. Aloud, he said, “I will be sure your schedule is cleared sir. Will that be all?”
“That is all for tonight.” William said.
“Of course, sir.”
Earnest took a swift glance back at Mr. Worthington as he left the room. Worthington was already focused again on his paperwork and true to character probably would be for some time.
***
Hours later, Worthington leaned back into his burgundy leather chair stretching his tired muscles. It had been another long day. There was always an endless litany of letters to write, meetings or problems to solve.
This meeting tomorrow was yet another example. He had known about Riley’s death and the subsequent financial problems with the store in Fort Worth for some time but until now he had paid little attention to the small store and had left the accountant, Adkins, to monitor things and take care of the books. He knew he had to do something with the business eventually, but it was low on his list of priorities. Besides, he had to wait out the expiration of the shares before Worthington’s daughter inquired about them.
The store meant next to nothing to him until his father died and it came to light that his father had left ten percent of the Worthington Corporate shares to Patricia Riley.
His father’s unwise bequest to Patricia Riley was a dilemma of magnificent proportions. However, no one had come to claim the shares so he had let the situation go…hoping that the time would pass until the shares reverted back to the Corporation.
Then he received the utterly bold and presumptuous letter from someone posing as the deceased Charles Riley. But who would dare do such a thing? At any rate, whoever had written the letter was either extremely naïve, desperate, or both.
While it was obvious now he should have made more of an effort to contact the new owner of his company shares, it was exceedingly annoying that his father had settled the shares to Patricia Riley.
It sill amazed him that his harsh, foreboding father had done something so completely out of character. In fact, his tough no-nonsense-business minded father had done something that could be characterized as utterly romantic…if William believed his father ever had romantic notions…which he did not.
Of course, love was the only likely explanation for his father leaving ten percent of his company to Patricia Riley after she had jilted him. The father William knew would have been much more likely to get even with her in a most diabolical fashion.
The whispered story was that his father had loved Patricia, but she had run off with some no-body Irish named Charles Riley.
As mystifying as it was, apparently his father had, in fact, loved Patricia enough to see her taken care of because Charles Riley had run the store in Fort Worth for as long as William could rememb
er. It was William’s understanding that his father hired Riley to run the store shortly after he married Patricia.
Riley made modestly healthy profits for the store for many years. But after Patricia died, Riley fell into despair and then into debt. It wasn’t long after his wife’s death that Charles Riley followed her to the grave.
Those shares now belonged to the oldest Riley daughter and William had expected her to show up at his doorstep. It had been a little over a year now so he had been convinced she either didn’t know about the shares or most likely the piece of paper meant nothing to an uneducated country girl.
Thankfully, his father did have the foresight to consider what would happen if no one ever claimed the shares. If the shares were still unclaimed two years after Patricia’s death, they would return to his control. With one year already gone, William believed he was going to be at the end of this potential disaster.
Was Patricia’s oldest daughter the charlatan who was going to show up at his office tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.? Most likely.
Well, he would soon find out.
Tomorrow he would get to the bottom of this letter writing business then he would decide what to do with the store. The most pressing and important issue was getting his hands on the Worthington family shares.
William’s gaze slid to the window of the bank which offered him an excellent vista of the city that his father had built. It was now his legacy and his kingdom. So he, in turn, had grown and expanded that legacy. Someday, his own sons and grandsons would continue where he left off. And tomorrow this panorama would give him a perfect view of the impostor who had dared to cross William Worthington before he or she ever reached the building.
William’s gaze fixed onto the Palace Hotel located directly across the street. His spy would provide him a list of everyone who had checked in. So, very soon, he would know who the letter’s author was. And it would indeed be most interesting to see who would show up at his office in the morning.
Once he knew identity of the impostor he would carefully consider and decide the fate of this soul who dared to pen a letter to imposter a dead man then demand something of a Worthington.
CHAPTER 4
“Worthington Bank Incorporated.”
Victoria read the shiny brass sign embedded in the heavy stone building. The building was extraordinary and intimidating, while being utterly beautiful. Built of sparkling slate granite, the bank structure boasted a magnificent sweeping, half-circle entry supported by gargantuan Corinthian columns. The details carved into the stone in the entryway ceiling gave the spectacular building elegance and grandeur.
She had never guessed that Worthington was a man of wealth. Where had his money come from? The store her father had run had made money at one time, but not enough to provide this sort of opulence.
Two things were obvious. She had completely miscalculated Worthington and coming here was a terrible mistake. However, she truly had no other options left. So she would meet this Mr. Worthington and lie like the devil, Lord help her.
Making her way up the marble steps with resigned determination, Victoria went through the glass doors that had been opened for her by a smiling, young doorman dressed in a smart, scarlet uniform finished with shiny brass buttons. She returned his polite greeting as she passed, blushing slightly at his discreet admiring appraisal.
The rose-tented marble floor was polished to a glassy sheen. Giant chandeliers, suspended from the high ceiling, shimmered and glistened. Potted palms and elegant furnishings finished the giant room making it look more like a fabulous castle rather than a bank.
The bank lobby was filled with finely dressed ladies and gentlemen conducting their bank business. The scene was not so different from the bank in Fort Worth except it was much larger and much more crowded. However, unlike the small, wooden bank in Fort Worth, Worthington’s was more like a marble and crystal palace.
“Can I help you . . . miss?” A thin, balding man, with small glasses sitting on the end of his nose, approached her just inside of the doors.
“Well, I . . . I have an appointment at 11:00 with Mr. Worthington . . . I . . . I am . . .” Who was she? Suddenly her mouth went dry and her mind went blank.
“Miss Riley?” The thin man finished for her without so much as a slight smile crossing his pinched, bloodless face.
“Yes. I am Victoria Riley.”
The lies were getting to her and she hadn’t even uttered them yet.
“So sorry . . . I have never been to so large a city, I think I am just a bit out of sorts.” Recapturing her senses, Victoria smiled brightly.
“I see. Well, my name is Earnest Pike.” His round eyes gave her a thorough once over from behind his wire spectacles.
Victoria shifted under Pike’s scrutiny. Something about the man’s expression made the hair rise on the back of her neck.
“Come with me,” Pike instructed. Turning, he walked toward a large, winding staircase.
Victoria followed Mr. Pike through the lobby and up two flights of stairs. His annoying cold manner made her extremely uneasy.
Her legs felt wobbly and her heart pounded hard under her breast as they walked up the stairs.
There was a large, mahogany door at the end of the hallway on the second floor. Before she even reached it she knew it led to Worthington’s office. The gold nameplate with engraved official looking letters that glinted on the door confirmed her fears about Worthington.
He was a very rich man.
Good Lord, the last thing she had expected was that Worthington would be a wealthy banker rather than a poor merchant. However, she had come too far to run away now. She must see this thing through no matter how difficult it was or how weak her knees currently were.
Pike knocked on the door then opened to let Victoria pass. The door shut behind her with a firm thud leaving her in the large foreboding room without even an introduction. Was it part of an intimidation tactic, or was Mr. Pike just plain rude?
For a moment Victoria stood motionless, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunshine pouring through the window on the opposite side of the room.
She slowly moved from the door towards the desk that sat in front of the window. Although her heart thudded wildly in her chest, she forced a cool serene expression on her face.
Like the rest of the bank, this room had an imposing elegance. However, this room was distinctively masculine.
Shelves neatly filled with books lined either side of the rosewood-paneled room. A lush silk carpet with an unusual symmetrical pattern absorbed her hesitant footsteps.
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, she noticed the leather, burgundy chair behind the large desk turned toward the large window. The occupant behind the desk would have a commanding view of the street below.
“Hello?” she softly called out in the direction of the turned chair.
Her clasped hands were damp inside of her dainty white gloves. It took every shred of her willpower to prevent herself from wringing her hands together as she stared at the back of the chair. Was anyone in the chair?
“Good morning, Miss Riley,” a rich deep powerful voice said from behind the back of the chair.
Startled, Victoria mentally scrambled to pull her fragmented thoughts together.
“Good morning,” Victoria squeaked as the burgundy chair swiveled around to reveal the most stunningly handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.
The world evaporated in an instant. Sound ceased, time suspended and the air left her lungs. The silver fire of his eyes sliced through to her soul holding her spellbound.
“Please sit down,” he commanded in a rich, cultured voice. The sound rippled over her like a hot toddy on a cold day.
Victoria stood there paralyzed with emotion and unable to break her gaze locked with his.
Even at a mere glance, he was worldly and elegant. Smiling, he displayed perfect white teeth and — oh what a beautiful mouth, firm yet so unbelievably sensual. With a distinctive, masculine chin and high, s
harp cheekbones, his face was classical, aristocratic, yet manly to the extreme. There were a few fine lines around his eyes, and a bit of gray at the temples of his ebony hair.
Could such a face and form ever be accurately reflected upon, even with a poet’s fine pen?
Instinctively she knew that his sophisticated and handsome profile was a facade to hide a powerful and dangerous man. In that instant she knew she had jumped off the bank of a river into fast moving rapids with a steep waterfall at the end. It was also obvious that if she didn’t get out of this fast moving water, she was certain to go over that waterfall.
Fear gripped her and she stepped back. She could not lie to this man.
She had to leave now while she still could.
She acted only on instinct. Victoria whirled away from him and swiftly moved to the door on trembling limbs, skirts flying in her wake.
“Wait!” His commanding voice touched her just as Victoria reached the door. “Miss Riley, please, come back and sit down, there is nothing to be afraid of.”
With the swift silent grace of a panther, and before she could even turn the handle of the heavy mahogany door, he was behind her, his husky voice caressing her skin and whispering over her hair.
She closed her eyes against the unexpected and sensual onslaught of his musky and tantalizing scent that sent waves of carnal awareness through her.
“Are you alright Miss Riley?” he asked in his deep luscious voice, his breath touching her ear.
Victoria’s breathing quickened and her hand stilled on the door. Gently, he touched her shoulder, his fingers sending hot sizzling spikes through her gown and down to her skin, branding her. Victoria jumped away in shock spinning around to face him again. Amused sympathy glinted in his silver eyes.
“Please don’t touch me,” she said in a low quivering voice glaring at him.
“I promise I won’t touch you, just come and sit down,” he said in a gentle, coaxing voice, his eyes sparkling like twin diamonds.
Giddy from head to toe, she tore her eyes from his disturbing gaze and stepped back from his powerful presence. Drat the man anyway. It was his fault that she really was making a fool out of herself.
The Letter Page 2
