“He doesn’t know you’re here?”
“He doesn’t—yet. He also doesn’t know I overheard the chatter on the line between him and Vince. But our phones are patched together, and I happened to be monitoring. Anyway,” Cindy waved off the finer points of that surveillance, but Win didn’t miss the further stiffening of Marguerite’s body. Clearly, she had no idea her security detail was so tight. “Apparently, Rob got the impression you’re taking on some crusade, communicated said impression to Vince, who was with Edeena, who flipped her lid.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I know, I know, again—in this case, I think they’re going too far. I suspect they’ll come to their senses if you have a plan.” She smiled broadly. “I just thought I’d warn you to come up with a plan.”
“Already done.” Marguerite pointed at the phone hanging at Cindy’s waist. “Can Rob monitor you the way you did him?”
“Yup. That’s how the tech works.”
“Can he track your location too?”
Cindy shrugged. “Ordinarily, but I’ve toggled that off at the moment.”
“Because you were coming to talk to me.” Marguerite nodded. She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her skirt. “Pick up my call?”
Cindy grinned, but Win felt like he was experiencing whiplash. What were these two women doing? When Cindy answered her ringing phone, however, Marguerite starting speaking with such a gush of excitement he involuntarily stepped back.
“Cindy! Oh, my God, thank you so much for picking up. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am!”
“What—what’s going on?” Cindy replied gamely.
“Win Masters!” At the sound of his name, Win jerked to new attention, and both he and Cindy now stared at Marguerite in mutual shock. “Win Masters and I are going to help the most darling old man who thinks he has a curse on his head.”
“A…curse?”
“Yes! The silliest thing. But with Win and all his security—and his local connections—and his money—I’m so excited about the chance to help this sweet man out. Win will be with me every step of the way, so I couldn’t be happier! It’s just—well, perfect!”
Perfect? Win nearly groaned. Working side by side with the first woman he was truly attracted to in more than five years, despite his vow to never become entangled again? That was the complete opposite of perfect. Win tried to figure out how to regain a shred of control of the situation, as Marguerite and Cindy chattered on.
The more they talked, though, the more he realized—there was no controlling Hurricane Marguerite. He could only brace himself for the worst.
Chapter Four
“You’re serious? Win Masters?”
Marguerite was finishing her third conversation in less than an hour on the subject of the intrepid Mr. Masters. It was a good thing he was hot, or she’d have thrown the phone into the water a long time ago.
“Yes,” she said now. She could practically hear Edeena’s brain working across the phone lines. She loved her sister tremendously, and had always looked up to her—from the very first time their father had sat them all down and announced that Edeena was going to rescue the family from the Saleri curse. That had been when Edeena was ten years old, and Marguerite barely six. Their mother had just died and suddenly, nothing had been more important than Edeena. Marguerite hadn’t always shown her sister how much she idolized her, of course. After a while the hero routine got tedious, especially when one was always cast in the role of adoring fan…but that didn’t change her deep and abiding affection for her sister.
Now, however, Edeena was jumping on her last nerve.
“Win Masters…is going to work together with you to help…some random old man.”
“He’s not some random old man,” Marguerite said now, not bothering to hide her annoyance anymore. “He’s a very sweet person, and a friend of Win’s family from way back.” That part wasn’t necessarily true, but she figured that Charleston society was much like the noble ranks back in Garronia. Everyone was either related to everyone else by blood or obligation, and bound by endless social contracts because of it. “When I offered to help Mr. Holt find the source of the curse he believes is on his family home and remove it, Win was right there. He wanted to help as well and insisted on throwing the full weight of his position into the process.”
Also not true. In fact, Win had looked pole axed when she and Cindy had begun their little phone charade. But he’d not said a word, merely nodding to her as she’d wheeled away from him—her walking in one direction, Cindy the other. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers to discuss the next steps in their supposed adventure.
Details.
“Well…I’ve had Vince dig up the most recent information on the man and he does, certainly, have a lot of weight to throw.” Edeena’s voice was speculative, and Marguerite debated chucking the phone again. At least Caroline had simply wanted to know if she was safe and happy—beyond that, she’d simply wished her well. But Caroline had always had an innate understanding about how best to help; as the middle sister, she probably came by it naturally. Edeena was definitely more of the type to dominate any situation she encountered. “It just seems so sudden.”
It seems so sudden because I didn’t realize you were spying on me. As much as Marguerite wanted to voice the words, she didn’t. Edeena was only trying to protect her, she knew. And run her life. But mostly protect her.
“Well, I suppose it is, in a way, but who knows how much longer I’ll be here?” Marguerite glanced up to the enormous plantation house behind her, wondering, not for the first time, what Win’s house looked like. It was a mansion deep in the countryside outside Charleston, but she’d pointedly refused to do any research on it.
He, clearly, had not had the same reticence in investigating her. Why? She wasn’t buying that he was solely interested in her job suitability. Not given the way he looked at her so intently.
So…hungrily.
“Marguerite?” Edeena’s voice brought her back to the conversation.
“Sorry, I thought I saw something—and that’s another reason anyway for me to partner up with Win. This house is spooky without Prudence here.” Their second cousin Prudence had reconnected with an old flame a few weeks before, and was now off on her first vacation since her husband had passed away years ago. Which left Marguerite alone in the enormous house. Granted, she did little more than sleep there, but she couldn’t deny that it was lonely.
She was always lonely anymore, it seemed. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been used to having Edeena and Caroline around until they’d both embarked on new lives. In the silence on the other end of the phone—more Edeena thinking—she pushed on.
“Look, I think this is the best of all worlds. I’m going to have to wrap up my work at the Cypress anyway—with the summer ending, there’s not nearly the tourist trade and it’s quickly going to get boring. Besides, I have to move on to find real work eventually.”
“You can come back to Garronia,” Edeena said quickly.
Um, no. “Yes, I know,” Marguerite said.
The truth was, she didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not when she still hadn’t figured out what she truly wanted to do—or where. That was an argument for another day, however. “But this little project with Win will let me finish out my work here with a fun adventure, while we get the details worked out on whoever’s going to take care of Heron’s Point until it sells. The realtor already has some leads, but there’s nothing I can do to move that along and it seems silly for me just to sit around babysitting this place until we have arrangements in place.”
“Well, that’s fair,” Edeena conceded. “We can move the Marks into the house if you’re not feeling safe.”
“You could, but since I won’t be here as much, it’s hardly an issue. Mr. Holt’s House is well inland. I probably won’t be coming back and forth to the island every day, but staying somewhere closer by.” The more Marguerite thought about it, the m
ore she liked the idea of the adventure to remove Mr. Holt’s curse.
As if she could hear her thoughts, Edeena’s next words were a little more studied. Gentle even. Which made them so much worse. “Marguerite…you do know that you most likely won’t be able to lift this curse, or whatever it is, right?”
Marguerite froze, forcing the old anxiety to stay put. She could make a difference, here. She could do something that mattered. “What, you think only you and Caroline are the official curse-breakers of the family?” she asked lightheartedly.
“Well, no, but—that’s different.”
“Different how?” Marguerite marveled at her ability to keep her voice casual, unaffected. Then again, she’d had a lifetime of practice being the inconsequential youngest sister, the one expected to be pretty and carefree and nothing more. “This one is easier, no one has to get married to make go away. I’m pretty sure Mr. Holt couldn’t take on a new bride if he wanted to—he really is old.”
“Marguerite…”
“Edeena,” Marguerite rejoined, still keeping her voice nonchalant. “I have no idea what I’m going to find in that old house. Probably a lot of cobwebs and sad-looking portraits. I do know it’s not going to be haunted, or possessed, and yes, I suspect it might not truly even be cursed. But this Mr. Holt thinks it is, and I figure it’s harmless enough for me to try and help him, right? We’d do the same for anyone in our circle, you know we would.”
Edeena couldn’t say anything to that, of course. The Saleri family had a reputation to uphold even with the legendary bitterness of their father. Garronia nobility were kind, generous, and above all, there when you needed them. It was in their blood.
When the silence stretched, Marguerite knew she’d scored. “Well, if you’re sure,” Edeena said finally, clear reluctance in her words. “I suppose I could assign Cindy to you and have Rob watch the house.”
“How about we have both of them watch the house and let Win’s security detail take care of me—I assure you, the man has bodyguards coming out his ears.” She knew no such thing, but it seemed reasonable that someone with a III in his name would. Maybe she should do a little research on Win, just to keep her story straight. “I do like your idea though, now that I think more on it. Rob and Cindy have been spending plenty of time running back and forth. Why don’t we have them both move into the house, and their kids too? This won’t take more than a week to wrap up I’m thinking. Two, tops. And that way Heron’s Point has people in it. And kids—which is even better.”
Marguerite smiled at the serene view across the inlet. She’d not met the Marks’s children, but Cindy talked about them all the time. A little boy and girl, not yet school age. They’d love it here, she thought, with the calm stream leading out to the water and down to the nature preserve, the beach access, the grove of trees and all the flowers. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re conning me into this,” grumbled Edeena, but there was no denying the resigned tone in her voice. Marguerite had totally won this round. “I’ll let Vince know about the change of plans.”
Win stood on the expansive back porch of the Grand, the name one of his own ancestors had conferred on the residence a century and a half ago, disdaining the more common use of Hall, Mansion, or Place. Shockingly, the prideful moniker had stuck, and the house and all its grounds had been called the Grand ever since. It was a beautiful enough home, Win had to concede, an enormous Italianate mansion that had been perfectly—if only outwardly—preserved over the centuries, never leaving the Masters family’s control. It had been rebuilt after the Civil War with no cost spared, and it had endured through countless turns of fortune since then. Now it was his, he supposed, for better or worse, all of its secrets and shames conferred onto his shoulders.
Behind him, a weary, vaguely surprised voice recalled his attention. “You can’t ignore me forever, Wyndham. I’ve a plane to catch.”
“Then catch it.”
“You’re not being reasonable.” The words should have been delivered with an angry bluster, but Wyndham Masters II had never been much for demonstrations. In many ways, the outspoken brashness of his son had served as a continual surprise to Win’s father—and to his wife. All three of them.
Now he continued in a conciliatory tone. “Juliet Graham is a member of one of the most exemplary families in society, and more to the point, her father is both rich and stupid. If not for us, they would have already run their coffers dry. A marriage between our families will ensure they don’t go to the poorhouse.”
Despite himself, Win chuckled. His father’s avariciousness knew no bounds, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a sense of humor.
“Did I hear correctly?” he asked, turning to take in the man. His father was the spitting image of him, only more preserved-looking—tall, slender, dark haired and grey-eyed, with the southern drawl that pegged his state of origin but all too often served to lull his business colleagues into believing he was driven by benign gentility, or possibly a lack of intelligence or strategy. None of it was true. “You’re advocating this marriage to protect Juliet’s family?”
“Well, to protect their money, not to put too fine a point on it. I do hate to see so much capital go to waste. But in all truth, Wyndham, under the terms of this prenuptial agreement, you’re going to need to declare bankruptcy if the woman ever sees fit to leave you. We simply can’t have that. There has to be a middle course.”
“I’m sure we’ll be very happily wedded, at least,” Win said, keeping his voice deliberately careless. “The rest will work itself out.”
To his surprise, his father sighed. He regarded Win with more subdued eyes, and his words, when they came, were quiet. “I know you’re doing this to humor me, Win. And I know you never intended to marry, to find someone you actually could love. But it’s been five years.”
Win stiffened, startled at the transgression of his normally sensitive father. “That’s enough.”
“What happened to Annelise is a tragedy, but it’s not—”
“I said, that’s enough,” Win snapped, unable to stop the stab of anger sharpening his tone. “Annelise has absolutely nothing to do with this. I’m marrying Juliet. That’s all you need to concern yourself with.”
A small bell sounded, discreet and hushed, but it was still incongruous in their old-world setting: a cell phone alert. Win returned to studying the gardens as his father fished for the phone. A second later the older man groaned. “I knew I should have already fled.”
“Oh?” Win didn’t really care what message had just been delivered. He’d needed the distraction to get his own emotions back in line. His father knew better than to mention the past, but Win didn’t want to fight with him. He enjoyed his father, at least when he didn’t meddle in things he couldn’t understand. And, if their disagreement ended up delaying the old man for another day, Masters Securities would get along fine without him. They had more than three hundred employees in the parent company’s high rise alone to ensure that was the case.
When his father didn’t answer him, however, Win turned, a small tremor of unease skating over his nerves. For all his flippancy, he didn’t like to see the old man worried. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
“Not what,” his father grumbled. “Who.”
At that moment, Win’s own phone chirped, and he tightened his jaw. That particular tone was currently assigned to only one person: Juliet. He should have known she’d seek him out here.
“Do you even have a story in place?”
Win frowned at his father. “About what?”
“This Holt business,” his father waved an impatient hand. “And the woman who was with you when you spoke to him.”
Win’s frown deepened. “Marguerite? I can’t imagine how Juliet knows anything about that.”
“It’s the south, boy. There are no secrets in the south that aren’t instantly known by its women.”
Win didn’t have time to argue the point when Juliet Graham storm
ed in, followed by, somewhat surprisingly, a man Win recognized. “Bitters?” he asked, happy to focus on anything but his furious fiancée. And, in truth, the man’s name never ceased to be a thing of joy to him.
“Tell him!” Juliet demanded.
“Well, of course, but, ah—first, wouldn’t it be wise for you to have a simple conversation?”
Win almost felt sorry for the lawyer. He was slender, bespectacled and stooped even though he wasn’t an old man, the weight of all his clients’ troubles clearly collected on his narrow shoulders. Martin Bitters loved legal research more than anyone Win had ever met, and had crafted the language on some truly byzantine contracts that had helped the Masters family outfox their competition for nearly a decade.
His current contract, however, might prove the death of him. The prenuptial agreement between Win and Juliet Graham would have felled a lesser man long ago.
“There’s no point in a conversation,” Juliet said, her tone steely. “Win cheated on me. That triggers clause one sixty-two in the agreement.”
“One sixty-two?” Win’s question was mild. He didn’t know the document well, but he did know one key, salient fact about it. It wasn’t finished. “I should be glad of an explanation, both of the charge and its application, in a document I’ve yet to sign.”
“But you’ve signed your intent to sign the document,” Juliet informed him coldly, taking a step forward. “I should throw this ring at you right now.”
Win’s father shifted behind him, and Win tried not to grin. The ring was worth a small fortune, and he had no doubt the elder Masters would be more than happy to reinvest those proceeds immediately than have them ride around on Juliet’s finger. That said, despite his obvious concern for Win, his father had his interests in allowing the wedding to proceed as well, and kept his mouth shut, clearly calculating the relative benefits of speaking or staying quiet.
“And why, pray tell?”
“Why? Why? It’s all over the city—that’s why. You and that…that countess.” She said this last with the level of derision usually reserved for pedophiles, and Win’s brows lifted.
Chosen: Gowns & Crowns, Book 7 Page 4
