Love Under Three Titans
Page 3
They lived in what was listed in the records of the Town Trust as the Second Homestead house but was what he and his brothers had always called the Grandparents’ House. On the very edge of town, the large house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, with the school on one side and a park on the other. Rolling pastureland stretched out behind it so that it felt as if the house wasn’t in a town at all. This was the home originally built by Sarah Benedict’s twin sons for their wife, Madeline Kennedy. Their grandfathers had been born here, which made the place special to them. The house had been refurbished in the 1940s when Gerald and Patrick Benedict had married Katherine Wesley. Then, shortly after their grandfathers had finished the renovations, and before the birth of his own fathers, his grandparents had moved back to the Big House.
Trey and his brothers had always liked this place, and when they’d announced they were moving back to Lusty, Grandma Kate had ordered this house painted and made ready for them. They really needed to take some time to choose some more pieces of furniture from the warehouse, though.
He put his attention back on Kevin. “That’s it? ‘He’s right’?”
Kevin grinned, and not for the first time Trey wondered how they could possibly be triplets when the three of them were so damned different, one from the others.
Richard possessed a keen intellect and had earned the reputation of being a true titan in the business arena while at the same time having very few interpersonal social skills. Kevin touted a devil-may-care insouciance that masked a sensitive and artistic nature.
Trey considered himself to be the lynchpin of the trio, the only one truly grounded in all aspects of reality.
Amazingly, his brothers never chided him for his egotism—a trait not many others even knew about, as he kept that particular facet of his personality fairly well hidden.
He leaned against the wall—Damn, we really need to get this house furnished—and folded his arms in front of his chest.
“Look, Maggie likely used up all the personal courage she thinks she had moving from Jersey to here.” Kevin didn’t change position or expression. “As soon as she understands that we want her, she is going to step back and throw up as many roadblocks as she possibly can, likely thinking that one major change at a time is enough for any woman.”
Rick had made his way over to stand beside Kevin, and for the first time Trey realized that whenever they had a serious disagreement among them—which wasn’t all that often—it usually was a case of him facing off against the two of them.
He realized that Kevin’s words seemed to make his own point. “Exactly!” Trey straightened from the wall and pointed at his brothers. “That is why issuing that challenge was just plain dumb.”
Kevin smirked. “How would you have handled it? Tried a sneaky end run around her by letting her think we’re no threat to her?”
“We aren’t a threat to her,” Trey said.
“Of course we are. We’re going to change her whole world as she knows it, and a part of her senses that.”
Rick’s observation was dead-on.
“Huh.” Trey had always sensed there was more behind his oldest brother’s “social clumsiness” than just what he let show on the surface.
“Maggie is a woman who’s remained in her cocoon longer than most. She took care of her ailing mother for six long years. Then, after burying her mother, when she learned she had a niece, Maggie never gave up trying to forge a link with her, even in the face of Ginny’s reticence. I figure her having such a wealth of patience and determination makes her the perfect woman for us,” Rick said. Then he laughed. “Well, that, and the fact that she turns all three of us on more than any woman ever has.”
Trey had always considered himself the ladies’ man of the trio, but he wondered if Rick didn’t have it exactly right. He’d thought to woo the lady with flowers and candy and intimate, late-night dinners. He’d envisioned trips into Houston for the Symphony, expensive nouveau-cuisine nibbles, and champagne and caviar on the balcony of the penthouse overlooking the city. He’d planned to seduce her until she fell in love with them. Trey frowned. Hell, hadn’t that been his plan from the time he understood that he wanted to share a wife with his brothers? Find the woman. Woo her, bed her, wed her. He never realized before this moment how very well refined the “woo her” part of his plan had become.
“She’s the one.” He said that to them now with absolute conviction. There’d never been a woman who’d captured all of their interest the way Maggie had. “I can’t explain why, but she’s the one. She walked into the restaurant the night of Ginny, Adam, and Jake’s party, and a voice inside me said, ‘Well, finally, you’re here.’”
“Of course she’s the one.” Kevin looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “There’re so many facets to the woman. Not to mention the previously mentioned hotness. I’ve never gotten hard before just looking at a fully clothed woman.”
Trey shook his head. “What I meant was, Maggie matters. Even if we can’t convince her to marry us, she matters.”
“Yeah, and we all know I’m not exactly Mr. Romance.” Rick shrugged. “But she makes me feel and think in ways I never have before. It’s almost as if, in a way, we’re already connected.”
Trey had noticed that. He’d never seen Rick relate to a woman the way he’d related, all afternoon, to Maggie. Neither was there any doubt in his mind that Maggie got Rick. “Okay then, so how do we do this?” Despite the fact that he did consider himself the one most in-tune with women—or maybe because of it—he looked to the oldest amongst them for direction.
“Well the first thing we have to do is transfer our operations from Houston to here. We’re set up to work virtually, so we have to do that, the three of us.”
“Rick, I was talking about wooing the woman we want to marry, not running the business.”
Rick smiled. “So was I, little brother. We can’t woo her if we’re not here. The other thing we can do is just be ourselves.”
“Always good advice,” Kevin said. “But not very helpful.”
Rick shook his head. “She’s going to be opening that bed-and-breakfast, remember? In fact, I believe Jake is taking her out to see the place Friday, first thing. You do know the house Grandma Kate asked the Town Trust to approve for that, don’t you? It’s the old convalescent home which is just over there.” Rick pointed to the southwest.
Trey understood immediately what Rick meant. They could walk from here to there in under five minutes. “My God, that’s brilliant. We’ll be there—which is here—for her, pitching in to help her fix up and open her hotel…”
“Keeping her maybe a little off-balance in the process,” Kevin nodded. “That can work.”
“It will work. And when she’s ready, we’ll offer her what she thinks she wants.”
Trey looked at Kevin, but he could see his younger brother was no more clued-in than he was. He turned to Rick. “We give her what she thinks she wants?”
“Our beautiful butterfly emerging from her cocoon at long last.” Rick smiled. “She’s going to want to try all the lovely treats denied her for so long. She’s going to want to sample what she’s never dared to sample before, and because she’s here in her new home, not there in her old one, she feels free, and everything is new again.”
“Okay, you totally lost me.” Trey looked over at Kevin.
“Me, too. What has she never dared try before?”
“Sex.” Rick nodded once, a gesture that he used to seal the deal. “Hot, raunchy, no-holds-barred sex. Our beautiful Maggie will swear she’s not interested in marriage, but she’ll want sex and figure that since this is, after all, Lusty, Texas, she can indulge her new cravings with impunity. So, when she’s ready to do that, we’ll be there.”
Trey blinked because, against all odds, he believed Rick had nailed it spot-on. He grinned in complete understanding. “And then, when she realizes she’s fallen in love with us, we’ll let her talk us into marrying her.”
Kevin laughed. “H
ot damn. Machiavelli has nothing on us.”
Trey nodded in total agreement. There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever. They’d come up with the perfect plan to win the woman they wanted to marry.
Chapter 3
He’d been trained to maintain the strictest control over any meeting with associates, and especially to hold the line between himself and those he considered his inferiors. Even if that hadn’t been Dear Father’s constant anthem, it likely would have been a posture he embraced readily on his own.
Clarence Edward Conrad believed, heart and mind, body and soul, that society naturally separated itself into different and definitely unequal classes. There were the indigent, the working poor, the middle class, and then those who were a cut above.
Conrad knew bloody well where he was within those strata—several rungs above most people and certainly well above the private detective sitting across the table from him at the moment.
He didn’t mind employing the services of such a man. He knew for a fact his great-grandfather, the Baron of Bickford, certainly had used Bow Street runners in his day.
I bet the baron never bloody met with any of them over lunch in a fancy French restaurant.
It took considerable willpower on Conrad’s part to play the role of gracious host. The only thing that kept him in this masquerade was the fact that he really had no choice in the matter. This particular new associate was not one with whom he would have chosen to do business on his own. The man had been selected by Conrad’s silent partner, for reasons said partner chose not to disclose.
Considering the investment Conrad had received from the man, using this particular private detective seemed little enough repayment. He tried to push away the thought that there’d likely be more favors required in the future.
If only the bloody bastard had approached me after dear granny’s demise, I’d have told him to go to hell.
Conrad sighed. There was no sense living in regret. He’d taken the investment and then had the epiphany about how he could recoup his personal losses and regain his footing. He’d done what he’d had to do. Another of Dear Father’s harshly meted lessons taken to heart—a Conrad creates opportunity where there is none to seize.
Conrad resisted the urge to laugh when he imagined the look on his father’s face if he found out how very well his lessons had been learned over the years.
He pulled himself back to the present and put all his attention on the man seated across from him. The sooner he met his purpose for this meeting, the sooner the odious creature would be out of Conrad’s sight.
His luncheon companion didn’t appear to be one who acknowledged he had any betters in this world, period. Conrad comforted himself with the certain knowledge that underneath the somewhat expensive suit, the man sitting across the table from him really was nothing more than a common thug.
“I’m interested in how you came to have my name, Mr. Clarence. My partner and I don’t exactly advertise our services.”
Conrad couldn’t prevent his left eyebrow from rising and just barely kept his expression poker straight with the use of his Christian name.
He’d opened his new business here in New York using his first and middle names. For all intents and purposes, he was now Edward Clarence. He thought it likely that his nemesis would hear that name in the course of the next few weeks. He felt confident his new alias wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.
He didn’t want Richard Benedict to know of his intentions until it was too late for the bastard to do anything about them.
“An associate in Europe, aware of my lack of familiarity with business entities in this country, recommended you. If you’re not interested in this assignment, then certainly I can look elsewhere.”
“Oh, I’m interested all right. In all manner of things.”
Conrad was not without charm. It was another quality Dear Father had insisted he cultivate. “You appear to be a man of myriad tastes and interests,” he said now, exuding as much amicability as he could manage under the circumstances.
The detective said nothing to that. Instead, he sat back from his plate, folded his linen napkin, and set it beside his fork.
Conrad did the same. At the silent signal, the waiter appeared, efficiently whisking away both their plates. “Would you gentlemen care to see the dessert menu?”
“Just coffee for me, please, black.” The detective never once looked away from Conrad’s gaze.
Conrad didn’t know what the man thought he would accomplish with such a juvenile tactic. He’d been stared down by experts and never flinched.
To the waiter, he said, “Earl Grey tea, hot. Lemon only.”
When they were alone once more, the detective nodded. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like us to do for you, Mr. Clarence?”
“I’m interested in finding some investment opportunities in the state of Texas. I’ve had preliminary contact with a gentleman from there. As you can imagine, being from London and unfamiliar with the territory, I have no way of truly discerning the measure of this man. I need to know all there is to be discovered about him. I have his name, of course. I believe his family is fairly prominent in the state, so you may not have much of a challenge here. Regardless, I would like a full report. I also would like a listing of all the investment and real-estate opportunities in or near the small town he calls home.”
“Are you, perhaps, looking for information that may prove to have a certain financial value in order to assist you with your negotiations?”
Bloody sot thinks I want to blackmail Benedict. The idea was so insulting Conrad nearly rose from the table and walked out.
As if a Conrad would ever stoop to such a tawdry and cowardly undertaking as extortion. As far as he was concerned, blackmail was an action taken by base creatures that groveled for their living in the sewers of the world. Creatures incapable of making bolder moves.
Creatures like the man sitting across the table from him.
Conrad’s plan was much more sophisticated than blackmail. He’d simply return to Richard Benedict equal measure the damage the man had inflicted upon him. He intended to ruin his reputation and his finances.
And then he’d find that which Benedict held dearest to his heart and take it away from him.
The detective awaited an answer. Conrad reminded himself he needed to behave in a congenial manner. “My goal is to understand the man, completely. I want to know about his family and his friends, his strengths and his weaknesses. I want to know what he loves and what he hates. And yes, I want to find an investment opportunity in that town he calls home. Partnerships are, after all, the ties that bind.”
“I see. My partner and I can certainly gather that information for you. We charge a thousand dollars a day, plus expenses, with twenty thousand due up front.”
Conrad abhorred the practice of making money matters so prominent in business negotiations. No finesse, no politesse. Just cold, hard cash. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to doing business on this side of the Atlantic.
The detective’s terms had been quoted on the phone when he’d called and arranged the meeting, so of course Conrad had the situation well in hand.
Saying nothing, he reached into his right inside jacket pocket and withdrew a check. He laid it facedown on the table and slid it over to the man.
Proving himself not completely dense, the detective picked up the check and pocketed it without even looking at it.
“Mr. Clarence, you have yourself a private investigator. All that remains is for you to tell me who it is you want me to…investigate.”
Clarence sat back, making room for the waiter to deliver his pot of tea. The service at this particular bistro was what he’d come to think of as typical New York—busy, efficient, and silent.
Once they were alone again, Conrad poured his tea, giving the task his utmost attention. A quick glance at the man across from him failed to reveal whether or not he understood that, by his mannerism, Conrad was insulting him.
“His name is Richard Benedict. I’ve no idea if he has a middle name or not. He has two brothers—triplets, they are—but I believe that it’s Richard who is the brains of the lot. They used to have business headquarters here in New York but have recently gone back to Texas.” Conrad thought it very likely they found the challenge of trying to do business in as urbane a metropolis as New York too complex for them.
“I see.”
“Is there a problem?” Conrad couldn’t be certain whether or not the man had blinked.
“No problem. I’ve heard of the Benedicts of Central Texas, of course. They’re quite well known, even here in New York City, and even by men such as myself.”
“Well then, you shouldn’t need a great deal of time to complete your assignment. Should you?”
For the first time during their encounter the man across from him smiled, and Conrad had to suppress the urge to shiver with distaste. He decided then and there that he preferred the man’s stone-cold visage to his smile.
“No, you’ll be hearing from me very soon, Mr. Clarence.”
He’d said his name as if doubting the veracity of it. Two could play that game, and Conrad was feeling irate enough that he returned the gesture with an air of noblesse oblige that his dear, recently departed grandmother would have found more than appropriate.
“Excellent, Mr. Talbot. I look forward to receiving your full report, at your earliest convenience.”
* * * *
“I can’t believe it’s in such immaculate shape!” Maggie shook her head in wonder as they returned to the front parlor after touring the enormous building. She’d been expecting something far different than this stately three-story sprawling Victorian. “You said it’s been vacant for twenty years?”