“I see. Sounds like a good little woman to have around.” He smiled before asking, “What’s her name?”
“Gwen Carson. She’s the head waitress in the dining room. She came to me with the information but didn’t want to get Miss Taylor upset by it.”
“How come she came to you?”
Braeden felt uncomfortable explaining his relationship to Rachel but realized quickly enough it didn’t matter. “I suppose she came to me because I’m rather like a partner to Miss Taylor. She manages the restaurant, and I manage the rest of the hotel. But, besides that, I think Miss Carson knows I care very much about Rachel. We’ve known each other for a long time.”
The man nodded. “So you don’t want to let this get around in case Miss Taylor might hear it and be upset?”
“That, and I can’t help but wonder if by keeping silent, the perpetrator won’t show their hand by asking questions that could help them to learn what happened that night. Maybe they think the snake is still in the drawer. I mean, after all, there might not have been an opportunity for Miss Taylor to need anything out of that particular drawer.”
“Hmm, I see what you mean. Well, what do you want me to do?”
“I suppose I’d like to have the place watched, at least from the outside. Someone is stealing from the establishment, and while I don’t know why or where they are taking the goods, the tally is growing at an alarming rate. It’s almost as if they want to get as much as they can right away because it won’t be available to them later.”
“I can set up some deputies to ride up this way on a regular basis.
You want me to start that tonight?”
“I’d appreciate it. And like I said, I’d rather we don’t say anything to Miss Taylor or anyone else for that matter.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Parker.”
NINETEEN
RACHEL PUT THE FINISHING TOUCHES on her hair before doing up the final buttons of her new green calico gown. She looked forward to Braeden’s promise of a walk in the gardens and wanted to look her very best. The dining room had closed only moments before, and now, with most of the resort celebrators installed in the theatre room to listen to Miss Lucretia Collins sing various operatic selections, Rachel simply needed to wait for Braeden to come to her. She took up her shawl, closed her bedroom door, and locked it. This had become her routine, even if she planned to only be away from her rooms for a few minutes. It was hard to understand what the thief had been after, but Braeden had insisted she be meticulous in her actions.
Glancing across her office, she could recall the image of Jeffery crumpled and bleeding on the floor. She still shuddered every time she saw the doorstop, realizing how much worse the situation might have been.
Opening her lobby door, Rachel quickly checked to make certain the other office door was locked before sitting down to await Braeden.
“Miss Taylor?” a bellboy questioned as he peered into her office from the newly opened door.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Parker asked me to give you this note about a half hour ago. I looked all over for you but couldn’t find you until just now.”
Rachel nodded and took the folded paper. She thought to thank the boy, but he left just as quickly as he’d come. She glanced at Braeden’s handwriting, easily recognizing it from all of the love letters he’d written to her six years ago. She still had those letters, although she kept them tied together and hidden in the bottom of her dresser drawer. Perhaps someday soon she’d take them out and reacquaint herself with their earlier love for each other.
She frowned at the contents of the note as she read, “Mrs. Needlemeier has called me to an emergency meeting at her house. Sorry about our walk. I’ll make it up to you. Braeden.”
Rachel thought it rather queer. Mrs. Needlemeier had been very visibly in attendance at the opening dance, and while Rachel hadn’t seen her during the last hour of the affair, she had figured Mrs. Needlemeier to be partaking of all the festivities.
“My dear Rachel, you are positively glowing,” Reginald said from the still-open doorway.
Rachel quickly put the note into the top drawer of her desk.
“Thank you, Reg. What can I do for you tonight? I thought you might be listening to Miss Collins’performance.”
“I thought it might be best to discuss the inventory situation,” he said, suddenly turning quite serious. “There are additional items missing, and I knew you would want to know right away.”
Rachel shook her head. “But I thought everything was okay after you put Tomas in the storage room. This just doesn’t make any sense.
Who could be stealing all of this stuff—and why? And why would anyone want to ransack my office? Surely they know they will get caught. I mean, now I feel like I have to go along with Braeden’s suggestion and call in the law.”
Reg nodded. “It would probably be wise. Maybe after the grandopening festivities are over with and things settle down, we could sit down with the marshal and explain everything we know to be true.”
Rachel shook her head. “Sometimes it just overwhelms me.”
Reg moved closer. “Rachel, let me take you away from here. We can go back to England, and I’ll set you up like a queen. You know how much I care about you, and I do detest seeing you overworked and underappreciated.”
His words stunned her, but Rachel forced herself to remain calm. She smiled. “I doubt Her Majesty Victoria would appreciate two queens in her country.”
“Don’t tease me, Rachel.” He moved closer and reached out to take hold of her hand. “You know I’ve come to care a great deal about you.”
“Reg, we hardly know each other. Besides, as you pointed out so nicely once before, my heart is otherwise engaged.”
“But he doesn’t deserve you. The scoundrel can’t possibly appreciate—” “Miss Taylor!” Esmeralda Needlemeier called from the doorway, causing Reg to jump back and drop his hold. She tapped her cane across the floor and, pushing past Reginald, came to a standstill directly in front of Rachel.
“Mrs. Needlemeier,” Rachel said, getting to her feet in greeting. She had presumed the old woman to be in her emergency meeting with Braeden. Perhaps she had now decided that it was necessary for Rachel to attend as well. Maybe she knew something about the missing inventory or maybe Ivy had spilled the facts about seeing Rachel in Braeden’s room and later in his arms. But Esmeralda’s next words shattered that thought altogether.
“I have come to see my niece. She arranged to walk me home this evening and spend the night with me.”
Rachel had no idea of this previous arrangement, and it irritated her greatly to think that Ivy had once again taken it upon herself to arrange affairs. “I gave Miss Brooks the evening off. I’m sorry, but I have no knowledge of her plans with you.”
“Well, I can’t seem to locate her,” Esmeralda said sternly. “She told me she would be here, probably in her room. May I have admission to that room?”
“We can go together,” Rachel suggested. “Her room is just outside this other door.” She went quickly to the door and unlocked it. In the hallway, several girls moved back and forth from room to room, causing Rachel to glance over her shoulder. “Mr. Worthington, I made an agreement with my girls that there would be no men in my office after nine o’clock in the evening. I realize you were concerned about the 181 inventory, but we can further discuss this in the lobby. Would you mind waiting there?”
“Of course not. My apologies.” He gave a courteous bow and exited her office without another word.
“Come along, Mrs. Needlemeier,” Rachel instructed. She entered the hall and knocked loudly upon Ivy’s door.
Faith opened it and smiled. “Yes, Miss Taylor?”
“We’ve come to see Ivy. Her aunt is expecting her.”
Faith looked past Rachel to the foreboding Mrs. Needlemeier and the smile faded from her face. Her brows knit together as she tried to explain. “Ivy went to the mansion earlier this evening. She said someone had asked her to me
et them there.”
“I know of no such arrangement,” Esmeralda declared.
Faith shrugged and seemed to cower back a bit. “All I know is what she told me.”
“When did she go?” Rachel questioned.
“Hmm … about seven-thirty, I think.”
Rachel had a bad feeling about the entire matter. Braeden had made it clear that the Needlemeier mansion was his destination, but he had said that he was to meet Mrs. Needlemeier. Was it possible that it was a ruse to meet Ivy? Shaking her head as if the question had been asked aloud, Rachel reminded herself that she needed to trust Braeden. Ivy was the one who deserved little or no trust.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Taylor,” Esmeralda announced, making her way back to the office without even bothering to verbally dismiss or thank Faith for the information.
Rachel followed her quickly out into the lobby. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Needlemeier.”
“Is something wrong?” Reg asked, coming up to the two women as they emerged from Rachel’s office.
“It would seem my niece is already gone ahead of me. I shall make my way home before the night air grows too cool.”
“You mustn’t walk alone,” Reginald said in his refined British manner. “Perhaps you would allow me, and perhaps even Miss Taylor, to walk you home?”
Rachel had no real desire to accompany the older woman anywhere, but she realized Reg was only being kind and considerate.
“Do as you like,” Esmeralda countered. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
“No doubt that is true,” Reg said, extending his arm, “but as a gentleman, I could not rest knowing you went unescorted.”
Esmeralda nodded and took hold of his arm. “Then let us be on our way. I will find out more about this matter concerning my niece.”
Rachel realized she was committed to accompany the two unless she wanted to appear uncaring about Mrs. Needlemeier. “I’ll be right with you,” she called after them. “I must attend to something first.” She quickly went back to her office and locked her doors before catching up with Reg and Esmeralda as they maneuvered down the hall toward the sun porch exit. All she could think about was that perhaps she should say something about Braeden’s appointment at the mansion.
“You didn’t come in one of your carriages?” Rachel questioned as they walked along the porch. The golden glow of light made the decorated porch quite lovely. Perhaps people would mingle here in the evenings and take a rest while conversing of their days at Casa Grande.
“No need to take a carriage when the walk is so short. It does a body good to walk and take the air—but not this night air. There come all manner of illnesses from breathing too much night air,” Esmeralda told them. “Hard on the heart, you know.”
Rachel said nothing but walked in silence behind Reginald and Mrs. Needlemeier. She rather enjoyed the crisp night air and seriously doubted that any harm could come from breathing it. Just then a shiver ran through her. Her mother would say someone had just stepped on her grave, but Rachel knew better. This shiver was neither from the cold nor from superstitious sayings. This came from thoughts of what they would find at the Needlemeier mansion. Please don’t be there, Braeden. Please let this be nothing more than a misunderstanding.
Colorful paper lanterns hung from the porch to the hot springs and along the garden footbridge. Rachel thought again of how she and Braeden had planned to walk out here alone. She had hoped to tell him that she loved him. … Her intuition, however, told her that things were not going well. Somehow she knew that as much as she desired Braeden to be elsewhere, they would no doubt find him with Ivy in the Needlemeier house. She sighed, but no one heard her. She felt terribly alone, despite her company. If only she could be strolling here now with Braeden instead of her over-amorous chef and the cantankerous matriarch of Morita.
Ivy took one last drink of brandy and felt it course through her blood as she ran the brush through her long blond curls one final time. She smiled at her drunken appearance in the mirror. Hours before, she’d discarded her uniform, bathed in scented water, and redressed in a low-cut gown of lavender silk. She had chosen this gown specifically because of the front fasteners. She smiled again and nearly laughed at the lopsided way her mouth appeared. She had only been drunk on one other occasion, but that had been purely for the purpose of forgetting the past. This time she was intoxicated just enough to make a bold and rather daring plan come to life.
“Miss Ivy,” Eliza called from the door, “Mr. Parker is waiting downstairs. He wouldn’t take a drink, but I poured one like you said and left it on the tray.”
Ivy smiled to herself. “Thank you, Liza. You’ll find your money in the cookie jar.”
“Thank you, miss.” Ivy heard her hurry off down the hallway.
“My plans are coming together perfectly,” she said and turned to walk to the door. She stumbled a bit and laughed at her condition.
She managed to make her way into the hall and maneuver down the stairway by keeping a hand on the wall. She’d had more to drink than she should have, but not so much that she couldn’t see this matter through to completion. She had planned to simply give an illusion of drunkenness to her aunt, rather than the real thing, but once she started it was hard to stop. The brandy gave her false courage and helped her to forget the demons of her past.
She hiked up her skirt, then noticed that she’d forgotten her petticoat. Giggling, she continued down the steps, wondering to herself what else she might have forgotten. She had barely managed to make the final step when the hall clock sounded nine.
Drawing a deep breath, Ivy summoned her wits and threw open the sliding doors to the front parlor. Sure enough, there sat Braeden Parker—dashingly handsome and apparently stunned.
“Miss Brooks, are you quite all right?” he questioned, getting to his feet.
“I’m fine, Braeden darling,” she said softly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, Braeden, you must know how I feel. I’ve been waiting so long to get a chance to tell you.”
“I don’t understand,” Braeden replied, his expression confirming his confusion. “I’m supposed to meet your aunt here. There’s some emergency business related to Casa Grande.”
Ivy laughed. He looked so pathetic standing there. “I know you were expecting my aunt, but in truth, the note you received was sent by me.” Her voice lowered. “I had to see you. You must understand.”
The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on Braeden, and Ivy realized she would have to make her case rather quickly or he might leave. Already he was eyeing the open door behind her.
She reached up and began unfastening her gown. “You must know how much I love you. I want to be with you, Braeden.”
“Ivy, you’re drunk and this is completely uncalled for.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she said, urgently running to him. She threw her full weight against him and Braeden couldn’t do anything but take hold of her arms. She hugged him even as he attempted to keep her from him. “We belong together, Braeden. It’s our destiny.”
Then, just as Ivy had arranged, Liza dropped a heavy metal pan against the stove, signaling that her aunt was approaching. Ivy had carefully seen to it that all the lights in the house were off, with exception to the front porch and the parlor, necessitating their arrival through the main entrance.
“What was that?” Braeden questioned.
“Oh, just my silly maid. Don’t worry about her. Think about me. Think about us.”
Braeden again pushed against her. “There is no us, Miss Brooks. I appreciate your flattery, but I am not at all inclined to reciprocate your feelings.”
“But you must. I’m giving myself to you. Just you,” Ivy said, desperate to make him see things her way. Her mind felt rather muddled, but she was sober enough to realize that there was little time to make her plan work. Without thought, she ripped away the final fasteners on her gown just as she heard the front door opening.
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Screaming at the top of her lungs, she fell against Braeden as if suffering some sort of fit. He caught her, as she knew he would do.
Now, if Mr. Worthington had done his part, Ivy Brooks would put on a better show than Casa Grande could ever hope for.
TWENTY
THE FIRST THING RACHEL HEARD as Reginald unlocked the front door of the Needlemeier mansion was Ivy’s imploring cries for Braeden to leave her alone. It sent a despairing chill up her spine and nearly took her breath away. So he did come here to meet her!
Another scream tore at the silence, and Rachel wondered if she herself might faint. She didn’t want to witness what she instinctively knew was to come. Esmeralda pushed past Reg, but without giving thought to what they were doing, Reg and Rachel followed her into the house. All three halted at the front parlor. As the only room in the house with the lights on, it seemed the proper place to stop.
What they found there, however, was anything put proper. Braeden had Ivy in his arms and was bending down to place her on the sofa. She beat her fists at his chest, moaning over and over one single word: “No.”
As Braeden stood up, Rachel, as well as the others, could see that Ivy’s bodice had been undone. Her chemise and corset were clearly visible from where the lavender silk fell away. Unable to hide her gasp of surprise, Rachel instantly drew Braeden’s attention to her impropriety as Ivy tried to sit up, clutching her bodice.
“Mr. Parker, you have a great deal to explain,” Esmeralda said in a low, calculated tone.
TRA CIE PET ERS O N “I suppose you might think so,” Braeden replied, “but this isn’t at 188 all what it looks like.”
“I don’t want to hear lies,” the old woman continued. “I’ve heard enough lies in my lifetime. You are clearly out of line here, and I want to know what is going on.”
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