A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “Why don't you tell us about your brother,” Christopher Landauer suggested, returning to his seat behind the desk. “A young lady shouldn't be alone in a city like San Francisco. Do you have other family?"

  “No,” she admitted. “Donald is my only living relative."

  “Where are you from?"

  The question came from Garrett Monroe and Claire turned toward the sound of his deep, rich voice. It matched everything else about him. Strong and authoritative.

  “I was born in Cincinnati,” she told him. “My father died when I was very young. My mother owned a millinery shop, but I sold the store after she died."

  “So you could come to San Francisco and live with your brother,” Garrett added.

  An idea was forming in his head and for the first time he was willing to agree with Christopher. He must be losing his mind. Either that or Claire Aldrich was a miracle. She'd only been in the city for a few short weeks. She had no relatives, excluding a brother who hadn't taken the time or inclination to meet her at the train station, and she was apparently in need of money. She was also more than passably pretty. Her movements and mannerisms were graceful and her words had an educated flair. Her innocence was apparent in the amber depths of her eyes and there was no risk of Grams mistaking her for anything but a well-mannered, well-bred young lady.

  Once again Claire nodded in lieu of words. Something about Garrett Monroe stole her ability to think and communicate at the same time. It was very disconcerting. She wasn't unaccustomed to male attention, but she'd never encountered a man who affected her the way Garrett Monroe was affecting her. Her normally calm composure felt completely muddled by the man's presence and she couldn't stop thinking about what it would feel like to have his strong hand holding hers while they danced to the vibrant melody of a Viennese waltz.

  “I'm afraid I don't need any more maids for the hotel,” Christopher said, searching for a polite way to send Claire away from the hotel without ruining his chances of escorting her to dinner. “However, if your circumstances dictate that you have a job to support yourself, then I'd be glad to make some inquires for you. Do you have any particular skills I should know about?"

  Claire tried to mask her disappointment. “Not anything I can boast of,” she replied. “I can read and write, of course. I'm afraid that I didn't inherit my mother's talent with needle and thread, which is why I sold her shop. However, I've been told that I have an amicable personality. Or at least Mrs. Shurman thought so."

  “Mrs. Shurman,” Garrett interrupted. “Would that be Mrs. Elizabeth Shurman of Cincinnati?"

  “Yes.” Claire smiled in spite of her nervousness. “I was a companion to Mrs. Shurman before she died. I worked for her for almost five years. She was a kind-hearted woman. Her death will always be one of my greatest sorrows."

  If Claire had been a companion to Mrs. Shurman, who was known for her stringent attitudes, then she wouldn't have a problem getting along with Grams.

  “I know the grandson,” Garrett said, willing his eyes away from Claire and back to Christopher. “Henry Shurman doesn't have the finesse of his father, but he's done well for himself in the coach business. He owns a factory that supplies most of Pullman's cars."

  He changed the subject, once again pinning Claire to the chair with the force of his pewter eyes. “What duties did you perform for Mrs. Shurman, other than offering her companionship?"

  “I handled her correspondence and managed the household staff. Mrs. Shurman's heart was very weak and she spent most of her time in bed. Her grandson was rarely at home. His business demanded most of his time."

  Garrett didn't mention that Henry Shurman's business included a lust for ladies and gambling. The young man was known for his addiction to poker and his family's fortune staked him in some of the most notorious games ever held on the riverboats that connected Cincinnati to the thriving cities along the Mississippi River. He wondered if young Shurman had ever directed his attention to Claire, then decided against it. Henry preferred his women experienced and voluptuous.

  “I assume that you've been unable to locate your brother,” Garrett added casually.

  “I tried the address on his letter, but he wasn't living there any longer,” Claire admitted. What she didn't say was that Donald had never actually lived in the clapboard cottage on Filbert Street. Mr. Landauer and Mr. Monroe seemed like pleasant, well-meaning men, but she didn't know them well enough to tell them her life story.

  “Have you talked to the authorities?"

  “Yes,” she said, then added, “my brother wasn't arrested for any crime, Mr. Monroe. I'm sure he's somewhere in the city. All I have to do is keep looking."

  “San Francisco isn't getting any smaller, Miss Aldrich,” he pointed out. “And it has its faults. It certainly isn't the place for a young woman to be on the streets without the benefit of a chaperone."

  “I can take care of myself,” she said, controlling her temper. She rarely lost it, but when she did, it was formidable. “If there are no openings at the hotel, I'll thank you for your time and be on my way."

  Claire set her unfinished glass of lemonade on the desk and started to leave. She might need a job, but she didn't need one badly enough to grovel. At least not yet.

  Garrett saw the indignation on her face and realized she was about to walk out the door. “There's no reason to be insulted, Miss Aldrich. If your brother is still in the city, he can be found. If not, you need to know where he's gone. Either way, questions are necessary. What's his occupation?"

  Claire forced herself to relax. Mr. Monroe was right in spite of his blunt approach. A young lady of good character didn't comb the city in search of a wayward brother. But she didn't have the money to hire a private investigator.

  “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “I've been so worried about Donald and I don't know anyone else in the city.” She settled back in the chair. “When he was younger, Donald worked on the riverboats that carried the mail from Cincinnati to New Orleans. After he left, he did a lot of things. In one of his letters, he told me that he was working as a train conductor. In another, addressed from Chicago, he was still working for the railroad but he'd been promoted. He didn't go into any details, but I got the impression he was doing very well. The letter after that came from Denver. He was trying his hand at mining, but he didn't like it so he moved on to Texas.” Claire paused and licked her lips. “Donald has an adventurous spirit."

  Garrett's insistent gray eyes studied her a moment longer. He could see the apprehension on her face in spite of her best efforts to hide it. Claire Aldrich was young and alone and that made her vulnerable. She was also extremely beautiful and very proud. Garrett could understand pride since he had a sizeable amount of it himself. What he couldn't understand was a man deserting his family. Whoever Donald Aldrich was, he deserved a good thrashing.

  There was a very strong possibility that Claire's brother had left the city. San Francisco was full of wandering men; men who arrived by train and left by sea, or arrived by sea and then disappeared into the interior of the country. The city was a gateway to all sorts of people, rich and poor alike.

  If Claire's brother had wanderlust in his blood, he could be anywhere. If he wasn't particular about the way he earned a living, he could also be dead. The city's docks weren't known for their hospitality. The opium trade was still running strong, although the Chinese businessmen who supplied the drug were careful to keep their business discreet.

  Garrett gave his decision another moment's thought before he spoke. “I believe I know of a position that may alleviate your financial stress, Miss Aldrich. If you're interested, we can discuss it over dinner. The Landauer Hotel serves a delicious roast duck."

  Claire wasn't sure what to say. She looked at Christopher Landauer. He appeared to be angry over something. He was glaring at his partner as if the handsome banker had just foreclosed on the luxurious hotel. Before she could think of an appropriate response to the unexpected invitation, Garrett walked to the door a
nd called for Andy. The desk clerk appeared a moment later.

  “Andy, please escort Miss Aldrich home.” He turned to look at her. “Where are you staying?"

  “I've rented a room in a boarding house,” she said, coming to her feet. “It isn't all that far. I can manage."

  “Nonsense,” Garrett said. “The hotel keeps several carriages. Andy can see you home."

  Realizing that the banker was used to taking charge of other peoples’ lives and not wanting him to think her spineless, Claire started to protest while she tried to think of a way to decline his dinner invitation. She didn't like the idea of being in this particular man's debt. “Really, Mr. Monroe, it isn't necessary. As for dinner, I'm sorry but I promised to attend a poetry reading this evening. Perhaps we can discuss the position you mentioned tomorrow."

  “I'll have Andy pick you up at eight o'clock,” he said, ignoring her politely voiced refusal.

  Their eyes collided for a brief moment and in that short second Claire wasn't sure what she felt, all she knew was that she'd never felt anything quite like it before. An odd combination of surprise and curiosity raced through her blood. Garrett was looking at her mouth and for the first time in her life, Claire found herself wanting to feel a man's kiss instead of just imagining it. She averted her gaze and looked at Christopher Landauer.

  “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Aldrich,” Mr. Landauer said, coming to his feet.

  Claire got the impression that the man was wishing her luck at the same time he was bidding her good-bye. Refusing to meet Garrett Monroe's steely gaze and fully intending to tell Andy that he was not to return to the boarding house and call for her later that evening, Claire thanked Mr. Landauer for his time and followed the hotel clerk from the room. She was halfway down the stairs when she realized that she had insulted Mr. Monroe by not telling him good-bye. Serves him right, Claire thought. The man's far too arrogant for his own good. And I am not going to have dinner with him. I'll find a job without his assistance.

  While Claire was arguing with herself about whether or not she could afford to turn down Garrett Monroe's offer of dinner and a possible job, the man was arguing with his partner.

  “You can't be thinking what I think you're thinking,” Christopher Landauer remarked as Garrett moved to the window and watched Andy help Claire Aldrich into the carriage.

  “I'm thinking that Donald Aldrich needs to be horsewhipped,” he said harshly. “You know this city as well as I do, Christopher. Men like that come and go every day. I doubt that she's going to find him singing in a church choir."

  “That doesn't mean you have to adopt her,” Christopher argued. “Or worse. The girl just walked in off the street. You don't know anything about her. And you can't be sure that her brother won't show up eventually."

  “Let me worry about the brother,” Garrett said confidentially. Once the carriage had pulled away from the front of the hotel, he turned to face Christopher. There was a lethal quality about his voice when he spoke. “From this moment on, Miss Aldrich is my concern, not yours."

  The other man gave him a knowing smile. “Am I being told to mind my own business?"

  Garrett reached for his hat. “You're being told to keep your charm on a short leash. I don't intend for Miss Aldrich to end up living in one of our hotel suites, installed there for your personal gratification."

  “Are your intentions any better?"

  “Whatever my intentions, they're definitely more honorable than yours.” Garrett laughed. “I don't seduce virgins."

  “No. You only hire them to pose as your fiancée. Be careful, Garrett. Something tells me that the lovely Miss Aldrich could end up being very, very expensive."

  “I can afford it,” Garrett retorted as he headed for the door.

  * * * *

  Claire's curiosity was hard to control during the carriage ride that took her down the hill much faster than her feet had taken her to the top. She clenched her jaw to keep from asking Andy all sorts of questions. The most important one being if she could trust Mr. Monroe. Was there a job or did the man have other intentions? Normally she wouldn't question a gentleman of his status, but the peculiar sensations she'd felt at the hotel hadn't completely subsided and Claire couldn't ignore them.

  No matter how many times she told herself that she had too much on her mind to think about Garrett Monroe, the man slipped into her thoughts like a snake into a bird's nest.

  Admittedly, she'd never seen a more striking man, but she wasn't interested in men. She had come to San Francisco to find her brother and to hopefully begin a new segment of her life that would one day include a husband and children.

  But not now. She had turned twenty-one a few months ago, but Claire didn't attend the school of thought that assumed an unmarried woman past that age was doomed to spinsterhood. She wanted to experience more of life before she resigned herself to the confines of marriage. And what better place to do it than San Francisco. The city was known for its sophistication.

  Thinking one or two discreetly posed questions might gain her some insight about Garret Monroe and his motives for helping her, Claire asked Andy how long he had been working for the hotel.

  “Mr. Landauer hired me when I was twelve,” Andy answered with no hesitation. “My pa shipped out on a freighter and didn't come back. Ma couldn't earn enough to feed us all, so I went to work."

  “Then you have brothers and sisters?"

  Andy laughed. “I've got two younger brothers and one sister. Katie's a handful."

  “That's what Donald used to say about me.” She laughed. “He's my only brother and I haven't seen him in almost seven years."

  “Is that what brought you to San Francisco?"

  “Yes. He's here. Somewhere. All I have to do is find him."

  “It's a big city,” Andy told her, then smiled. “But don't you worry. If anyone knows San Francisco, it's Mr. Monroe. If your brother's in town, Monroe can find him."

  Claire wasn't so sure. Garrett Monroe had nothing in common with her brother, and even less in common with her.

  The sun was sinking into the water of San Francisco Bay as Andy brought the carriage to a stop. Claire sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying the bold color of the California sunset.

  “I'll be back at eight o'clock,” Andy said as he helped her down from the carriage. “Mr. Monroe's a stickler for punctuality."

  Recalling the hard glint of Garrett's eyes, Claire reminded herself that he wasn't the kind of man she could underestimate. Still, she shouldn't have dinner with him. It wasn't entirely proper, even if she desperately wanted the job he had referred to. “I'm afraid that I've made other plans for the evening. Please convey my apologies to Mr. Monroe. I'll be unable to join him for dinner."

  Andy frowned. “I'm not sure I'd do that if I were you, Miss Aldrich. Garrett Monroe carries a lot of weight in this town. He can help you find the kind of job that won't have people looking down their noses at you."

  Claire chewed on her bottom lip. Andy didn't live on Nob Hill, he worked there. Like her, he hadn't been born into a wealthy family. Realizing that she and the hotel clerk shared a common ground, Claire lowered her defenses. “I do need a job. I don't have enough money to pay next week's rent and my brother seems to have vanished off the face of the earth."

  “Mr. Monroe can help you find him,” Andy told her. “He knows everyone in town, including some people that might surprise you. Like I said, if your brother's in the city, Garrett's got ways of finding him."

  Claire wasn't as confident as the hotel clerk, but she kept her doubts to herself. Deciding that she could survive Garrett Monroe's arrogant ways long enough to find out about the job she needed and perhaps gather some help in locating her brother, Claire reviewed her decision to eat at the boarding house. “Very well, Andy. You may return for me later this evening. I'll dine with Mr. Monroe."

  He smiled in approval and climbed into the front seat of the open carriage. “By the way, my name's Wilkes. Andrew W
ilkes. I think we're going to be good friends."

  “I hope so, Mr. Wilkes,” Claire replied with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me home."

  He winked at her again and Claire bit back a laugh. She watched as Andy negotiated a full turn in the busy street and headed back to the hotel. Several seconds passed before Claire's smile turned into a frown. The only dress she had that was suitable for dining at the hotel would need a good ironing to take out the wrinkles and Mrs. Kruger kept the irons in the kitchen. She turned and went inside, hoping she could avoid the landlady long enough to heat the iron and sneak it upstairs.

  An hour later, Claire was stripped down to her underwear. The shear cotton felt cool and comfortable against her skin as she moved about the room, gathering her brush and the tortoise shell comb Donald had sent her for Christmas last year. The drapes were drawn and she'd just finished pressing the blue dress she planned on wearing that evening.

  Still confused over her reaction to Garrett Monroe, Claire forced herself to sit down instead of pacing the room as was her habit when she was worried. Of course, she didn't have anything to be worried about. The term was an overstatement. She was anxious, that's all.

  The last five years of her life had been spent in the luxury of Mrs. Shurman's home and although she'd had Wednesday afternoons and Sundays off, she had rarely ventured beyond the confines of the estate gardens or the busy stores in the shopping district near the Ohio River. Her only experience with gentlemen had been to avoid the ones Henry Shurman had invited to his grandmother's Cincinnati home, being told by Mrs. Shurman that it wasn't proper for a servant to mix with the guests. Claire hadn't been offended by the older woman's bluntness. She'd sensed the protection in Elizabeth Shurman's words and had kept to herself whenever Henry and his friends occupied the house.