“But I have great confidence in Sam. Once he’s been introduced to the right people nothing will stop him. Of course, we will have to move to Austin. The legislature will be our first step.”
Plummer leaned back in his chair and grinned. He’d taken the bait. “Politics, huh?”
Grace allowed him a few moments to ponder the possibilities. Of course, there was no old friend visiting the States, but she would handle that dilemma later.
“And what do you want in return?” Plummer asked. “Since you mentioned a proposition, I assume there’s something you want.”
Grace took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do for her to ruin it all now. “I want the deed to the Double B,” she said coldly.
Plummer raised his eyebrows in surprise. Whatever he’d been expecting her to request, that wasn’t it. “Why?”
“I want Dillon Becket to owe me. I want him to lay every last cent he has into my hands to get that deed back. And if he can’t pay off the loan…” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled wickedly. “I’ll take great pleasure in being his boss, before I kick him off the place.”
Revenge must not have been a foreign concept to Plummer, because he seemed to be enjoying her tirade. “What did he do to you?”
Grace stood, facing the old man, and she jerked off her gloves. With a flourish she placed her palms before him. “I was made to churn butter until these hands blistered, and to milk cows and pull weeds. This scar here?” She turned her hands over and pointed to a tiny white scar. “A blasted chicken. I was raised and educated to be a lady, not a slave. That man treated me like a servant, and I will not allow him to escape unpunished.”
The old man’s almost colorless eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose Sam knows anything of your shenanigans.”
Grace sighed dramatically. “Of course not. It wouldn’t do for Sam to be aware of my…interference is such an ugly word. Shall we say encouragement and enhancement of his career?”
“He wouldn’t even let me finance a decent office for him here in Plummerton. Insisted on doing it all himself.”
Grace tried her best to look supremely bored. “Do you doubt, Mr. Plummer, that I have powers of persuasion that you do not?”
Plummer was pursing his lips, thinking hard. “You have a deal, Miss Cavanaugh. You will receive the deed to Dillon Becket’s ranch after the wedding.”
Grace gave him a confident smile. “Before the wedding, Mr. Plummer, or we will not be able to do business together.”
He grinned like a wolf, his face all teeth and eyebrows. It was very unpleasant. “Don’t you trust me, Miss Cavanaugh?”
She remained composed, as cool as he was. “No, Mr. Plummer. I do not.”
Plummer laughed out loud, throwing his head back and guffawing. Grace didn’t know if he was laughing at her bold request, or simply laughing at her. Had she made a complete fool of herself?
But she didn’t make a move to leave. In fact, she didn’t move at all. Plummer’s laughter died away, and he studied her with condescending eyes. “As you wish, Miss Cavanaugh. You will receive the deed at the wedding ceremony.”
“The day before,” she insisted.
“That morning,” he countered.
Grace met the old man’s cold eyes. “I find that arrangement agreeable.”
Plummer showed her to the door, his eyes sparkling with the possibilities she had presented him. Grace’s face didn’t change. She maintained her cool exterior, and her voice didn’t tremble at all.
But she felt as if she should be shaking all over. She’d just sold her soul to the devil for the Double B.
No, she corrected herself, that wasn’t quite true. But she had just made a bargain with the devil for Dillon Becket.
Chapter Nineteen
“Renzo, what a fascinating shop.” Grace appreciatively studied the goods that were artfully displayed. It had taken mere days for Renzo to open his business. Evidently he had taken her statement that he had the personality of a merchant quite seriously.
There were several silk dresses in bright colors displayed against one wall. Odd pieces of jewelry were arranged in a glass case, and there was a collection of silver. Candlesticks, platters, and a unique little box. It wasn’t until Grace stopped before a collection of fans and gloves that she felt that first hint of warning.
“I have a fan just like that one,” she said, pointing to a cream lace fan that was beribboned and very distinctive.
She lifted her face to Renzo. He was proud of his shop, and had a near gloating expression on his radiantly handsome face.
Grace sighed, afraid of what the answer to her question would be, but she had to ask. “Where did you get your merchandise? You opened the shop so quickly.”
Renzo shrugged his shoulders. “I stocked the store using several different sources.” He wasn’t looking at her, but wiped a nonexistent bit of dust from the counter.
“Tell me this isn’t all stolen,” she said in a low voice.
Renzo gave her a curt bow. “If you wish, amiga.”
“Blast it all, Renzo,” Grace snapped, ignoring the feigned expression of distress on his face. “What if you get caught?”
In a flash the anguish disappeared, and he appeared smugly confident. “I will not get caught. And besides, this was all stolen long ago. Months, weeks ago. No one will know.”
Grace lifted the fan and folded it with a snap, smacking Renzo on the forearm smartly. “Is this the only item of mine that you kept? What else might I find in The Jewel that once belonged to me?”
Renzo tried to look repentant, but there was a sparkle in his black eyes. “I kept only two items, amiga. That fan and a…a certain undergarment that I found quite fascinating.”
“Renzo!” Grace smacked him on the arm again. “How could you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It is best that things did not work out as I had wished between us. I would hate to have to punish you for striking me…not once, but twice.”
The words could have been menacing, but they weren’t. They were delivered with Renzo’s own strange sense of humor, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.
“It matters not, now that you are promised to another, and I have found my little jewel.”
Grace sighed. She couldn’t imagine Abigail being anyone’s little jewel, and she certainly had never brightened Grace’s day like a diamond in the sunlight. What on earth had Renzo seen in Abigail?
“When is the wedding, amiga?” The tone of Renzo’s voice was almost solemn suddenly. Grace had discovered that Renzo understood her all too well, and he knew that she didn’t feel for Sam the way a woman should feel for her husband. He also knew how much she still cared for Dillon, even though the matter was never discussed. Perhaps that was why his question was delivered as a soft caress.
“Five days,” Grace said sternly. Her decision was made, and she bloody well wouldn’t regret it. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Of course, if you wish it.”
Grace was anxious to change the subject, and she glanced around the fascinating store. “And you will be associating with legitimate suppliers in the future?”
Renzo assured her heartily that he would, but Grace had a feeling that one would always be able to find the odd, fine piece in Renzo’s shop, The Jewel.
Behind her, the door opened quietly. Renzo’s first real customer, and Grace knew by the tender smile on his face that that customer was Abigail Wilkinson.
When Grace turned to face Abigail, she thought the pale woman was going to turn and run. But she didn’t. Abigail lifted her chin and straightened her spine, almost as if readying for battle.
“Good morning, Miss Cavanaugh,” Abigail said primly.
“Miss Wilkinson.”
They stared at one another until Renzo stepped between them. “Grace, you must introduce me to your friend,” he said, his eyes on Abigail.
Grace wanted to roll her eyes and smack him on the arm again, but she introduced them formally, watching as Renzo took Ab
igail’s hand and bent over it with a courtly bow.
Five minutes later Abigail was as charmed by Renzo as every other woman he had ever met. He showed her his merchandise, commented on her own mauve silk dress, and gazed deep into her eyes each time he spoke.
Watching Renzo work was fascinating. He stayed close to Abigail, leaning in a bit closer than would be considered proper. There had been a time, Grace thought as she watched her friend fawn over her enemy, when she would have frozen if a man stood over her so closely. Dillon had changed that, and she supposed she should be grateful. But she couldn’t muster any gratitude for Dillon Becket at the moment, no matter how hard she tried.
Renzo maintained eye contact whenever he or Abigail spoke, hypnotizing his little jewel with his attention. It was rather like watching a cobra, Grace surmised. Before Abigail had been in the shop ten minutes she was completely under Renzo’s spell.
Abigail studied the pieces of jewelry intently, finally choosing a bracelet she was certain would complement her best gold gown. Grace wondered, with a sinking heart, if Abigail was planning to be married in her best gold gown.
When Renzo went into the back room to find proper packaging for the purchase, Abigail turned to Grace.
“I heard that you were staying in town.”
Grace nodded. “It’s much more convenient, with the wedding so close. There are plans to be made, meetings with the minister, fittings for my wedding dress. You know how it is.” She took a deep breath and summoned all her courage. “When are you and Becket getting married?”
“Two weeks,” Abigail said in a small voice. “Will…will you be there?”
Grace wanted to tell her that there might not be a wedding, but she couldn’t speak for Dillon. Even if he had the deed to the Double B in hand, he still might marry the daughter of the neighboring rancher. It would be good business.
“I don’t think so.”
Abigail nodded, looking away from Grace with obvious relief. “I suppose that would be best.” She snapped her head back up and boldly met Grace’s eyes. “You know I love Dillon very much. I’ve loved him since we were children. I believe I was eleven when I knew that one day we would be married.”
Grace almost couldn’t speak. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I know that you…have feelings for him.” Abigail blushed. This was as awkward for her as it was for Grace, and she was terrible at hiding her feelings. “But I can give Dillon what he wants. I can save the Double B.”
With a surprised lift of her eyebrows, Grace stepped toward Abigail. “You know?”
“Of course. I know Dillon doesn’t love me, but in time he will. I’ll see to that. I can make him love me, if…if you’ll stay away from us.”
“I plan to,” Grace said sharply.
Renzo burst from the back room, oblivious to their awkward conversation. He held in his hand a small porcelain box, and he opened it to reveal Abigail’s bracelet displayed on a bed of velvet.
“My gift to you, Miss Wilkinson,” he said as he handed the porcelain box to Abigail, wrapping her pale fingers around it with his own strong, brown hand. “Something so beautiful should be protected.”
This time Grace did roll her eyes, confident that neither Renzo nor Abigail could see her. They were staring at one another with a fascinated daze in their eyes.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Morales,” Abigail said breathlessly.
“Please call me Lorenzo,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you speak my name it will be like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. It will warm my heart and my soul.”
Abigail blushed and glanced to the floor, but she didn’t wrest her hand away from Renzo.
Apparently they didn’t hear Grace as she made her exit, shaking her head and muttering about charming bandits and gullible ladies.
Dillon had tried to work himself to exhaustion, just to keep from thinking about Grace. But it hadn’t worked. Every sign of her had been removed from the house, packed up and carted off to Plummerton. For a while he had been able to sense her, as if her essence lingered in the air, but now even that was gone.
He didn’t just miss her; he ached for her. He hurt with missing her. Not that it made him change his mind. The hurt would fade, and eventually he would forget exactly what she looked like. Just as he could not quite picture the faces of people he had known as a child, or those long dead. Ghosts, best forgotten.
But right now he could close his eyes and see her as clearly as if she stood before him. Sometimes, at night, he actually reached out for her, half expecting her to be sleeping at his side. For that split second he was content. And then he realized that the bed was empty, that he had sent Grace away.
Naturally he had heard the news of her engagement to Samuel Plummer. Seth Plummer, that weasel, was paying her expenses until the wedding, relieving Dillon of all responsibility…and any excuse to see her.
Plans for his own wedding were under way. Abigail was making all the arrangements, and Dillon didn’t want to have anything to do with them. He knew the date, the time, and the place, and all he had to do was show up. He’d even balked at the requested meetings with the minister. The man might have refused to marry them in the church, if Wilkinson wasn’t such a big contributor.
All he had to do was show up.
Grace smiled across the table at her intended until she thought her face would break. She didn’t feel like smiling, but Sam was making such an attempt at being charming that she didn’t dare let him know how she felt. Empty. Hurting. Coldly hollow.
Every night since her arrival in Plummerton, he’d taken her to dinner. The café, the hotel dining room, and one horrid evening at his father’s house. Seth Plummer had looked at Grace with a weak smile and a knowing gleam in his eyes that Sam evidently missed. Maybe the old man always looked like that.
Sam had always been a perfect gentleman. He’d kissed her once, when she’d accepted his proposal, and that had been a chaste, passionless brush of his lips. He always treated her like a lady, and Grace felt like such a deceiver.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “What’s the matter? You’re not yourself tonight.”
“I don’t know if I should mention it….” Grace’s voice faded away, and she stared down at her untouched plate.
“You can tell me anything,” Sam said earnestly.
Grace lifted her eyes to look at him. He was handsome and attentive and intelligent…and she would never love him. But she would make him a good wife. She would be faithful and she would care for him the best she could.
“Have you ever given any thought to leaving Plummerton?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Whatever for?”
“It’s a small town, and I just know you could go far in a big city.”
Sam smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “I have wondered, on occasion, whether or not I would succeed in, oh, Houston or Austin.”
Grace nodded her head. “I’m sure you would do well anywhere. But have you ever considered an even bigger city? New York? Boston?”
Sam studied her intently, with just a hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you miss the finer things, Grace? I know you were raised to have the best of everything. To be a social butterfly and the belle of the ball. But I don’t know if I’m cut out to live in the East. I was educated there, but all I thought of was coming home. I belong in Texas.”
“Will you think about it?” Grace asked almost desperately. She needed to get as far away from Dillon as possible, in order to forget him. If not Boston or New York, then Austin or Houston.
“For you, sweetheart, anything,” Sam said as he studied her with pale eyes that could hide nothing from her. And she knew that if she wanted it enough she could get this man to go. To leave his home. She felt like the lowest creature on the earth, because leaving Plummerton would make Sam miserable.
No. She wouldn’t allow Sam to be miserable. She would make him happy, no matter where they lived. He would never regret leaving Plumme
rton.
He walked her from the café to the lobby of the hotel. The manager was nowhere in sight, and Sam glanced from side to side before he leaned close to Grace and whispered in her ear.
“Two more days, sweetheart, and you’ll be my wife.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and Grace wondered if he could tell that she had suddenly gone cold. She felt as though the blood had drained from her body and left her nothing but an empty shell.
She walked up the stairs alone, knowing that Sam watched from the lobby. He had never taken her any farther than the bottom of the staircase that led to her room. Ever the gentleman, Sam had always shown her respect. That was one thing she had never gotten from Dillon Becket. It was at moments like this that she tried to hate Dillon, but of course she couldn’t.
It occurred to her that she could simply disappear. She could sell a few pieces of her jewelry to support herself until she could find some sort of work.
But eventually she would need to marry, if she was to have the family she wanted so badly. There would not likely be any candidate better than Samuel Plummer, and she didn’t expect to fall in love again. Not ever.
And by marrying Sam she could give the only man she ever would love the one thing in the world he cared about.
Grace stepped quietly into Renzo’s shop. It was the first time in days that she’d found the little store empty. Every lady in town wanted a look at The Jewel.
She really didn’t want to socialize, and she had so far managed to avoid the everyday bustle of Plummerton. Just a moment with Renzo, that was all she wanted. He was the only person in town she didn’t feel she had to put on a false face for.
Even Renzo was absent, and Grace walked the counter, looking at the merchandise as she waited. There were several pieces gone, a few new ones in their places. She didn’t want to know how he had come by his new merchandise so quickly.
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