The Butler's Daughter

by Joyce Sullivan

  “Do the police have any idea how the explosives were put there?”

  “Not that they’re revealing. They’re interviewing the owners of the property and anyone who visited the house within the last few days, hoping to come up with a lead. How is your father? Has he come around from the surgery? He may be able to answer some questions.”

  Anxiety flickered in Juliana’s brown eyes. “I’ve been checking with the hospital every hour for updates. He’s still groggy from the surgery. The ICU nurse said he’s in a lot of pain and they’ve heavily medicated him. I’m hoping tomorrow he might be stronger. The nurse told me the police had come to the hospital this afternoon to ask questions, but they were turned away. Your security guards are still there.”

  Hunter cut himself another piece of roast beef, almost too tired to wield the knife and fork. “Did you call the estate?”

  “Yes. Things were in an uproar. It took several calls to get through. I spoke to Lexi’s secretary, Stacey. She said the police were there asking questions.”

  “Did she happen to mention they were sweeping for bugs?”

  Juliana winced. “No. That topic didn’t come up. Did they find any?”

  “Apparently not. If the house had been bugged, someone’s removed the evidence.”

  “You mean someone on the staff, don’t you?”

  Her defensiveness was charming. Hunter deigned not to point out to her that no listening devices would have been necessary if she or her father was involved in the murders. Or that both she and her father had escaped the bomb.

  He’d feel a lot better once the police checked with the doctor who’d diagnosed Cort’s ear infection. Hunter had gotten the doctor’s name from the bottle of antibiotics in the refrigerator. Juliana wasn’t taking one step out of this apartment with Cort until he knew she was everything Ross had purported her to be. “Your father was seriously injured in the explosion, I would think you’d want the person responsible held accountable.”

  “I do. But my father used to tell me that if you treat servants fairly, they’ll reward you with loyalty. Ross might have been the cutthroat of Wall Street, but he was a generous employer. My father weeded out employees whose work ethics weren’t in sync with domestic service.”

  “Everyone has a price.”

  “It may be true for some people, but not everyone. Do you have a price, Hunter? Is that what the work you do as The Guardian is all about—the right price for the job?”

  “Prices aren’t always about money. The payoff can be about pride, revenge, retribution, thrills.”

  “What’s your payoff?”

  “All of the above?”

  “Liar.”

  Hunter eased back against the leather club chair, mildly irritated that she looked so pleased with herself. What was it about women that made them so certain they could guess what a man was thinking? That she knew why he dedicated so much of his life to being The Guardian? “Tell me, did you agree to care for Cort purely out of loyalty?”

  Juliana remained as composed as a marble bust in the candlelight. “That was the main reason. I truly didn’t think Lexi could bear to be parted from her baby for long. And Ross offered enough incentive that I knew I’d have the capital to open my own wedding planning firm when the job ended.” Her expression grew somber. “And here I am ending my wedding planning career by planning my own wedding. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  Her warm mahogany eyes settled unwavering on him. “No, Cort needs a mother. And some promises are meant to be honored for a lifetime.”

  It was probably his deep fatigue, but Hunter felt something stir within him like a stone rolled aside to reveal cold, bare earth to the sunlight. Was she implying she would also honor her marriage vows to him for a lifetime?

  “If it makes you feel any better, Ross’s offices are being swept tonight for listening devices. I met with the senior management of the Collingwood Corporation today after I paid my respects to Annette.”

  “How is Annette?”

  “Distraught. And frustrated that she can’t see Cort.”

  “Can’t say as I blame her,” Juliana said softly. “This must be such a terrible shock to her, especially after losing both her parents so recently. Her mother died of a heart attack just after the one year anniversary of Riana’s abduction. The doctors said it was probably stress related. Annette’s father died about six weeks later in a car accident. He went through a stop sign and hit a garbage truck.”

  Hunter nodded, remembering how Ross had been so worried about Lexi that he’d come to FairIsle. Hunter had taken one look at Ross and poured him a drink. Ross had told Hunter that Lexi was growing increasingly fragile. She wasn’t eating. He’d insisted on taking her to a doctor and they’d discovered she was pregnant again. Instead of being happy, she was terrified something would happen to this baby, too. Goodhew had suggested an outrageous scheme to hide her pregnancy from the world and protect the baby’s existence and Ross had wanted Hunter’s opinion. Who could have guessed it would lead to the present situation?

  “Annette gave me an earful on the senior management of the Collingwood Corporation,” Hunter said neutrally. “I was hoping you could supplement her comments.”

  “My father would really be the one to ask. He had Ross’s confidence. But I’ll do my best.”

  Hunter poured himself another glass of red wine and sketched out the information Annette had told him. Juliana confirmed that Ross had trusted Kendrick Dwyer, the CFO of the corporation, implicitly. She’d never heard her father suggest anything otherwise.

  “My father called Paulo Tardioli a shark. He predicted that Tardioli would eventually find a way to oust Ross’s favor with Simon Findlay. But Simon knew Ross didn’t want a human resources manager who questioned his decisions. David Younge and his wife, Sarah, were very supportive of Ross and Lexi after Rianna’s kidnapping. Especially Sarah. She dropped by or called every day and helped organize the poster campaign.” Juliana paused, her slender fingers toying with the stem of her wineglass. Hunter noticed that the third finger of her left hand was bare. He’d check with Marquise to ensure that she’d picked out a suitable engagement ring.

  He found his mind drifting, imagining that hand resting on his own, bound to his by duty and loyalty. Would she feel isolated and trapped on FairIsle? Exhaustion tugged at his spirit and he felt his eyelids droop, but he wanted to finish the conversation. He struggled to keep his mind alert, away from distracting thoughts of Juliana.

  Each of the officers had provided him with alibis of their whereabouts on Thursday and Friday as he’d requested. But it would take time for his operatives to verify the accounts. They’d each also given him a short and interesting list of suspects. After what Annette had told him about Sable Holden and Phillip Ballard, whose positions on the board of directors were a condition of the takeovers of their respective companies, it was not surprising they garnered top spots on two of the four lists.

  Ballard’s name didn’t ring a bell with Juliana, but she straightened thoughtfully when she heard Sable’s name. “Oh yes, I remember her from the wedding. She was the snippy woman who rudely eyed Lexi’s pregnant tummy when she passed through the receiving line and asked if Ross was the father of her baby. Lexi called her the ‘thorn in Ross’s side.’ Ross hadn’t wanted Sable included in the guest list for the wedding, but Lexi thought it would be insulting if she was the only member of the board of directors who wasn’t invited.”

  Hunter spoke his thoughts out loud. “I wonder how insulted Sable was by the takeover deal. If she felt Ross had screwed her over, she might have resorted to kidnapping and murder. I’ll look into it. And I’ll check out the deal with Ballard’s company, too.” He stifled a yawn.

  Juliana placed her napkin on the table and rose. “It’s been a long day. You need some rest. You’re falling asleep in your chair.” She tucked a stray wisp of blond hair behind her ear and leaned across the table to blow out the candles. />
  Hunter had a beautiful image of her face radiant with golden light before the candles were snuffed out. The room darkened around them, shadows settling. Juliana’s laughter touched his ears. “I probably should have turned on the lights before I did that.”

  He reached out to stop her, making contact with her arm. “No, don’t. It’s fine.” His voice tightened. “But take off your dress and leave it on the floor on the way out.”

  “My dress?” Her voice was hesitant. Alarmed.

  Hunter smiled despite his fatigue. He squeezed her arm gently. “The servants will expect some evidence of a romantic evening.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll close my eyes, I promise.” He released her arm and obediently closed his eyes. “Go ahead.”

  Never had he imagined that the whisper of fabric against skin could be so tantalizing. A certain part of his anatomy took special note of the sigh of midnight-blue fabric settling onto the carpet. “Your panties and bra, too.”

  She hissed in her breath, but her voice was calm. “My father warned me about rich boys like you.”

  “Your father is a very smart man,” Hunter retorted, “but you’re safe with me, Cinderella.”

  “Don’t call me that.” The shifting of her feet and a light thud indicated her compliance with his request.

  A vision of her naked before him in the high heels she’d been wearing turned his body to pulsing awareness.

  “I’m leaving my shoes, too. Don’t trip over them.”

  Hunter grit his teeth, hearing two plops as if she’d tossed them in different directions.

  “Good night.”

  He counted her footsteps across the room; his breath exploded in his chest when she seemed to stop before reaching the door connecting their rooms. He reminded himself that asking her to remove her clothes was his lamebrained idea.

  “Hunter?”

  “Yes?” God, he hoped she wasn’t going to do something ridiculous like ask him whether she could expect to find him in her bed when she woke up. Hunter couldn’t trust himself with the answer to that question.

  “Ross and Lexi’s cook appears to be missing. The staff can’t locate her. You might want to check into it.”

  The door closed firmly behind her. Hunter sat alone in the dark. Cinderella had just given him a nugget of her trust.

  Chapter Five

  Exhaustion finally catching up with her, Juliana slept past noon on Sunday. She peered blurry-eyed at the alarm clock, then leaped out of bed, anxiety rising like mercury within her when she realized she hadn’t even heard the baby. She yanked on a bathrobe and shoved her feet into slippers and hurried out into the hall. Cort’s crib in the nursery was empty, but her anxiety eased when she heard his characteristic happy chortles behind the closed door to Hunter’s room.

  She knocked on the door and at Hunter’s gruff command to enter, she found Cort in the middle of the bed, propped squarely on Hunter’s broad naked chest, patting at the newspaper his godfather was trying to read.

  Hunter lowered the newspaper and Juliana forgot to breathe. She’d dated in university, had seen a few male bodies, but she’d never have described any of them as dangerous. Or beautiful. But Hunter, with sleep-tousled hair, that devilish whisk of morning stubble and all those tanned knotted muscles contrasting sharply with Cort’s smooth baby-perfect skin sent a shock wave of desire to the core of her being. The sheet barely covering his waist left her little doubt that he was naked under there.

  “Good afternoon.” He flexed an eyebrow at her. “Sleep well? I’m teaching Cort to read the financial pages. Think his father would approve?” He indicated Ross’s picture dominating the front page of the financial section and his suddenly misty gaze melted Juliana’s heart into a puddle.

  “Very much.” Juliana fought back a sob. Okay, so marrying this carelessly wealthy, mysterious man was the craziest, most reckless thing she’d ever done. But seeing him lying there with the baby on his chest and obvious uncharacteristic emotion dampening his eyes made her want to be crazy and reckless and forget that they would never be equals in this relationship. Needs she’d been denying since Hunter had proposed their arranged marriage surfaced in her heart: the need to be loved and protected; the need to have a home and children of her own.

  Juliana quickly closed the door to those imprudent thoughts. “You didn’t have to get up with him, I would have—”

  “A phone call woke me anyway.” His voice lost its dispassionate edge. “The autopsy results are back. Ross and Lexi were positively identified.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “They died instantly and didn’t suffer. I hope that will be some comfort to your father, and you.”

  Juliana’s legs couldn’t hold her up anymore. At least Ross and Lexi hadn’t suffered. She sat down on the edge of the bed, aware of the precise number of inches between her thigh and Hunter’s large feet. Cort, his smile lighting up at the sight of her, crawled over the ridges of Hunter’s body toward her.

  Juliana laughed, almost crying as Hunter gently kept the baby from straying accidentally into any sensitive areas. “Come here, pumpkin.” She stretched out her arms to Cort, love and adoration for this baby twining bittersweetly with her grief. Cort tumbled off Hunter’s knee, landing in a nest of sheets and blankets.

  “Oopsie,” Juliana exclaimed, scooping him up. She peppered his sweet rounded cheek and the button-tip of his nose with kisses, glancing past her precious charge to Hunter. She had to keep Cort safe. “We’ll get the marriage license first thing tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I’ll protect you both with my life, Juliana.”

  She fitted her arms more snugly around Cort. “Please, God, don’t let it come to that.”

  JULIANA FELT HER FEARS darken along with the ominous clouds building on the horizon as the afternoon wore on. She’d called the hospital, hoping to talk to her father only to be told that he was still holding his own, but unable to communicate. Juliana asked the nurse to keep her posted.

  Her call to Gord Nevins at the estate to discuss the funeral arrangements was just as disquieting. Nonnie Wilson, the cook, was still unaccounted for. Gord had phoned the cook’s emergency next-of-kin number and spoken to the cook’s sister. But as yet, the sister hadn’t called back to say that she’d located Nonnie.

  Juliana passed the information on to Hunter, who was sequestered in his study, making calls and going through several boxes of files he’d requested from the Collingwood Corporation. Hunter had told her that the sweep of the Collingwood Corporation offices hadn’t turned up any listening devices.

  Juliana wasn’t sure whether this was comforting news or not. She wanted the killer to be caught, but she hated the idea that someone in Ross’s company may have been involved.

  When her cell phone rang just before five, as she was enlisting Marquise’s help in carrying out her romantic secret plans for her and Hunter’s wedding night, Juliana put Cort down in his playpen and rushed to answer, praying it was good news from the hospital. Maybe her father had regained consciousness.

  To her surprise, it was Hilde Epstein, the elderly woman who occupied the condo alongside Juliana’s in Cleveland. They often met for tea and watched chick flick videos together. Hilde had been teaching Juliana an old form of lace making called tatting. “Juliana, I’m sorry to bother you, but you did tell me you’d be out of town this weekend, didn’t you?”

  Juliana was instantly cautious. “Yes, I’m visiting friends,” she said, walking down the hall toward Hunter’s study. “Is something the matter?”

  “I’m afraid someone’s broken into your home and they were quite messy about it. They forced your door open and went through every drawer and cupboard in sight. They must have been after smaller valuables because they didn’t touch the TV or your sound system. I’ve called the police.”

  Juliana’s heart thumped. Someone had broken into her home and disabled the security alarm.

  She barged into Hunter’s study without knocking. He was on the phone. He looked up frowning, bu
t quickly ended his call and rose to offer assistance when she silently gestured at her cell phone.

  Her eyes pleaded with him as he laid a calming hand on her shoulder. She spoke into the receiver, hoping he would catch on by her words. “I’m glad you called me, Hilde. But you shouldn’t have gone into my condo. The burglar could have still been in there.”

  Hunter grabbed a pad on his desk and wrote: “Don’t tell where you are.”

  Juliana nodded.

  “What should I do when the police arrive?” Hilde asked.

  Juliana gripped Hunter’s arm and repeated Hilde’s question.

  “Officer’s name. Report number,” he wrote out.

  “Just get the officer’s name and report number and I’ll call him when I get back. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I may stay here for another week.” Juliana felt sick lying to her neighbor like this. Thank God there was nothing in the condo to indicate her relationship to the Collingwoods. She didn’t have so much as a phone number written down. She shredded her phone bills as soon as she paid them.

  “What about the door, dear?” Hilde asked.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can call a locksmith from here.”

  Juliana quickly ended the call before Hilde could ask any more questions.

  The fear stamped on Juliana’s face as she disconnected the call completely undermined Hunter’s pragmatic resolve to keep his bride-to-be at a distance when they were in private. She looked paler than a porcelain saucer and about ready to shatter.

  “They know where I was living with Cort,” she whispered, her eyes wide. She took a step toward him, then paused uncertainly, clasping her hands as if attempting to trap her emotions between her palms. “What if they find out we’re with you?”

  Hunter’s defenses toppled with a silent crash that shook the foundation of his life. The break-in at her condo indicated the killer was intent on finding her and Cort. Finishing the job.