A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “That isn't necessary,” she said as the hotel maid undid the straps on her canvas valise and began unpacking.

  “Of course, it's necessary,” Libby replied, smiling. “I got my orders directly from Mr. Monroe. I'm supposed to take very special care of you."

  Claire was about to ask how many times Libby had been turned into a lady's maid, but she caught herself before the question tumbled out. If Garrett was testing her, then she had to act in front of Libby the same way she'd act in front of the other people she'd soon be meeting.

  Instead of protesting, Claire thanked Libby for her efforts and returned to the parlor. She reached for the present, hesitated, and then folded her hands in her lap. Whatever Garrett had put into the box could wait for a moment of privacy before being revealed.

  Once Libby had put Claire's dresses in the walk-in-closet, and placed her clean undergarments in the narrow top drawers of the large chest, the maid joined Claire in the parlor. She was carrying the gown Claire had worn the night before over her arms. “I'll have this pressed for you,” Libby said.

  The maid didn't comment on the limited state of Claire's wardrobe. The blue gown was the only dress Claire owned that was suitable for a formal dinner and she suddenly regretted that Garrett would have to see it again tonight. What more can he expect, she thought to herself. I wouldn't have asked for an advance on my salary if I could afford a new dress.

  “Would you like some refreshments before you rest, Miss Aldrich?"

  “Yes, thank you,” Claire replied, realizing that Garrett had given Libby very detailed instructions, including the one about taking a nap. “Some tea would be nice."

  Libby gave her a quick nod before quitting the room.

  Once Claire was alone, her eyes moved back to the present. She reached for the box again, consumed by curiosity. Why would Garrett send her a present? Her hands were shaking as she touched the velvet ribbon binding the box together. She lifted the lid of the tissue-lined box and withdrew the gift. It was a cameo. Claire had never seen such a finely crafted work of art. The classic female face was in profile and the pinkish shell inlay looked as delicate as a baby's breath. She held the small brooch in the palm of her hand. Her heart was pounding fiercely, as if Garrett had personally pinned the jewelry to the lapel of her suit. Tears burned her eyes and Claire tried to remember the last time anyone had given her such a lovely present.

  Donald had sent her the tortoise shell comb, along with several linen handkerchiefs trimmed with lace, but he was her brother. This present was from a man, a man she was supposed to convince the world she loved.

  Unsure of how she should be reacting, Claire sat staring at the cameo brooch. It wasn't proper for a young lady to accept such an expensive gift, but then nothing about her relationship with Garrett Monroe could be considered proper. She supposed he was accustomed to bestowing expensive baubles and bangles on the finer sex, and she should be angry, but she wasn't. The gift touched her heart the same way Garrett seemed to be touching it.

  The implications of her feelings toward the banker began to take hold of Claire and she frowned. She would be out of her mind to let herself feel anything for the man, but she couldn't squelch the sensations that had taken hold from the first moment they'd met. In less than forty-eight hours Garrett Monroe had become embedded in her mind and heart.

  Claire was about to take a mental step back from her emotions and analyze her situation when Libby tapped on the door again. Quickly placing the brooch back in its box, Claire smoothed her hair away from her face and opened the door.

  “I've brought you hot tea and some ginger cookies,” Libby said, sauntering into the room. “While you eat, I'll run your bath."

  Claire opened her mouth to respond, but the maid didn't give her a chance.

  “Your dress will be pressed and ready by six. I'll bring it up when I come to do your hair."

  “Thank you,” Claire said, resigning herself to a day or two of pampering. She poured a cup of tea as she eyed the present and silently reminded herself not to fall into the trap the banker was setting for his grandmother and the rest of San Francisco society.

  * * * *

  Garrett regarded his grandmother with a raised brow. He had joined her in the back parlor for a few minutes of conversation and to make sure that she had taken the tonic Dr. Baldwin had prescribed for her on a daily basis. “What gossip are you referring to?"

  Theodora Monroe waved her grandson's matter-of-fact tone aside. “You know very well what gossip. Ada Belton is giving a charity ball for the new orphanage and she's hinting that your engagement to her daughter will be announced."

  Garrett smiled. He removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. Grams had a way of getting right to the point. It was one of the things he liked about her. He was about to reply that the Bay would go dry before he married Belinda Belton, but Grams wasn't in the mood to wait for his response.

  “I swear if you've asked that spineless girl to marry you, I'll disown you here and now. As much as I want to see you settle down, I won't accept Belinda Belton into this family. Do you hear me?"

  Garrett dropped onto the end of the sofa where his grandmother was sitting. The marmalade tomcat that had appeared at the back door several years ago and been instantly adopted into the family crawled off his grandmother's lap and onto Garrett's. He stroked the well-fed feline from head to tail as he met his grandmother's questioning gaze. The cat stretched lazily under his hand, then jumped down and took up its customary place in the windowsill.

  “I have no intentions of marrying Belinda Belton. And I have no idea what initiated the gossip."

  “I do,” Grams grumbled. “Ada Belton's tongue is loose on both ends. She knows I'm encouraging you to marry and she thinks..."

  “I don't care what Ada Belton thinks,” Garrett interrupted her. “And neither should you. Dr. Baldwin wants you to rest, not worry."

  “I'll stop worrying when you're married to a decent woman who loves you more than she loves your money,” Grams replied bluntly.

  Garrett took a deep breath, letting it out as he stood up. His grandmother had a higher opinion of the female gender than he did. “I'm having dinner at the hotel. Don't wait up for me."

  Garrett could feel his grandmother's eyes on his back as he walked out of the room. He was halfway up the staircase that led to his bedroom before he allowed himself to smile. Saturday was the perfect day to introduce Claire to his grandmother. The Beltons’ party was Saturday night and he intended to walk into the Nob Hill residence with his fiancée on his arm. Whatever Ada Belton had up her sleeve would be worthless after that and he could concentrate on his business again while Claire's presence calmed his grandmother's worried brow.

  After he bathed and changed clothes, Garrett went into the library for a brandy. It was his private domain, his retreat within the well-furnished house, and one of his favorite rooms. The walls were lined with leather-bound books. It was a room for inspiration and instruction and Garrett found himself staring out the window, thinking about the night ahead.

  He'd spent most of the afternoon making arrangements for Claire's public introduction. A prominent dressmaker would arrive at the hotel tomorrow morning. He'd given the discreet lady specific orders as to what he expected, along with the promise of a sizeable bonus if a gown was ready for Saturday night's party. After that, he'd paid a visit to the jeweler. He'd selected an engagement ring. Large but elegant, the star-cut emerald had caught his eye almost immediately. He'd been on his way out of the shop when he saw the cameo. The brooch reminded him of Claire's delicate features and he'd bought it, then given instructions for it to be delivered to the hotel as soon as possible. The shopkeeper's withered face had drawn into a smile when Garrett added a diamond and ruby necklace to his purchases.

  The mantel clock struck seven as Garrett finished his brandy. He was used to escorting beautiful women to dinner, but tonight was different. Tonight was the beginning of the deception. He wanted the othe
r guests in the hotel, many of whom knew him on sight, to notice that this lady was different. He wanted them to whisper that he was talking to her differently, looking at her differently. By the time he escorted Claire out of the dining room and invited her to take a walk in the hotel garden, Garrett wanted everyone to realize that he wasn't entertaining his current mistress.

  He had no doubt that Claire would play her role to perfection. It was his own performance that was in doubt. As he gathered his hat from the foyer table and reached for his gloves, Garrett wondered if he could pretend to be in love. Never having experienced the mysterious emotion he had nothing to go on. He'd seen his share of besotted young men, but he wasn't fresh out of short pants, and he had no intentions of making a fool of himself. He knew how to conduct himself around a lady, but being engaged demanded a certain change in his demeanor.

  Garrett could cope with the young widows and sophisticated women he'd taken as mistresses over the years. He knew what they expected from him and what he gleaned in return. He understood the unwritten laws of the bedroom, but he knew next to nothing about how a man treated a woman who held a place in his heart rather than in his bed.

  As he climbed into the carriage that would take the twisting gravel lane down the hill and into the city, Garrett supposed that he'd do well enough if he treated Claire like any other lady, with the exception of the acceptable familiarity that was allowed between engaged couples in public.

  The carriage was halfway to the hotel before Garrett thought about Evelyn Holmes, the young Englishwoman he'd moved into the cottage on Bartlett Street. He hadn't visited her since her first day in the city, the evening after he'd encountered Claire in the hotel office. The last two days had been consumed with thoughts of Miss Aldrich, not the succulent blonde who had amused him since leaving London. He made a mental note to call on Evelyn later, after he'd bid Claire good night. Although none of his peers would expect him to deny himself the pleasure of a mistress, before or after his alleged marriage, Garrett wanted Evelyn to hear the news from him. If she responded as he expected her to respond, he'd offer her return passage to England, or better yet, he would introduce her to Christopher. His friend was between liaisons at the moment and knowing Christopher's appetites, Evelyn would suit him well.

  That thought aside, Garrett's mind turned to a more immediate problem—Donald Aldrich. His first inclination was to make sure that Claire didn't find her brother. It was apparent that the man felt no responsibility or commitment to his sister. If he did, Claire wouldn't have been left alone after the death of their mother. Garrett had a gnawing feeling in his gut that when he did confront Donald Aldrich, there was going to be trouble. He decided to put Mr. Wilson on the case. Hiram had worked for him in the past, privately gathering useful bits of information about potential investors or grumbling stockholders. The middle-aged man was dependable and extremely discreet.

  By the time the carriage stopped in front of the hotel, Garrett had dismissed any lingering doubts about the scheme he had hatched to keep his grandmother happy. Her reaction to the gossip churned up by Ada Belton confirmed his suspicions. Grams wasn't going to be content until her grandson appeared to be happily resigned to a wife and family.

  Several people were milling around the hotel lobby as Garrett entered through the main entrance. Andy was standing behind the counter wearing a brown, double-breasted jacket. He gave Garrett a quick nod, excused himself from the front desk, and went upstairs to inform Claire that her dinner companion had arrived. Garrett took off his gloves and hat, handing them to a bellboy, who then placed them in the coatroom adjacent to the lobby.

  “Thought I'd see you tonight,” Christopher Landauer said, strolling across the lobby to shake Garrett's hand. “I understand Miss Aldrich has been installed in one of the upstairs suites."

  “Only temporarily,” Garrett told him.

  Christopher led him to the side, away from the people who were gathering in the lobby for a small party to be held in one of the private dining rooms that overlooked the courtyard. “I can't believe she agreed to your outrageous proposal. The girl must be more desperate than I thought.” Garrett gave him a scathing look, but Christopher wasn't deterred. “Is this to be her formal coming out dinner? Should I order up a bottle of our best champagne?"

  “You can stop smiling like you've just found a lost gold mine,” Garrett replied curtly. “And yes, Miss Aldrich has agreed to my offer of employment. An offer I trust will remain confidential."

  Christopher held his hands up, palms out. “I won't breathe a word. Promise."

  “See that you don't,” Garrett warned him, then smiled. “Actually, a few well-spoken words should get the gossip wheels turning in time for Ada Belton to realize she's put her foot in her mouth again."

  His friend laughed. “Heard that particular piece of news, did you. I for one accepted an invitation to the gala event just to see Mrs. Belton's reaction when you walk in with the lovely Miss Aldrich on your arm."

  “She is lovely, isn't she,” Garrett mused, as if he'd just realized Claire's beauty.

  His friend looked past Garrett, toward the carpeted staircase. “From here, I'd say she's the loveliest lady in San Francisco."

  Garrett turned around. Claire was standing on the small landing, halfway between the first and second floors of the hotel. Her hand was resting on the mahogany banister as she scanned the lobby and caught his gaze. Although he'd seen her earlier in the day, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was done up in a thick cluster of curls, accenting her slender neck and the classic rise of her cheekbones. He smiled when he saw the cameo. She'd pinned it to a strip of black velvet ribbon and was wearing it around her neck.

  “If you'll excuse me,” Garrett said, leaving Christopher to stare, along with several other men in the lobby.

  The air became charged with tension as Garrett approached the bottom of the staircase. Claire couldn't keep herself from staring at him as he stopped next to the wide banister at the end of the staircase and looked up at her. She took a deep breath and began walking slowly toward him, totally unaware of everyone else. Garrett held her gaze like a magnet.

  Garrett made no attempt to look anywhere but at Claire. He boldly surveyed her body as she came closer. He studied the shape of her waist, letting his eyes move ever so slowly upward over the swell of her breasts, not stopping until he was staring at her tempting mouth.

  “Good evening,” he said in a deep voice.

  “Good evening.” Claire's voice shook. She couldn't help it. Just looking at Garrett made her nervous. Unconsciously, she raised her hand and touched the cameo. It felt warm under her fingers and she smiled. “Thank you for the present. It's lovely."

  “Not as lovely as the woman wearing it,” Garrett said as he held out his hand.

  Claire hesitated for a moment, then accepted it, letting him wrap his lean fingers around her trembling ones. He tugged her gently forward and she stepped down onto the lobby's tiled floor. He was still staring at her and the impact of his quicksilver eyes made her feel naked.

  “I hope you're hungry,” Garrett said, placing her hand on his bent arm as he escorted her into the formal dining room. He caressed her face with his eyes. “I'm famished."

  The words were innocent but his tone was laced with sensuality and Claire had to look down at the floor to keep from blushing. She nodded, put a smile on her face, and met his gaze again. His eyes were still burning with unreadable emotions and Claire's heart started pounding so loudly she feared he could hear it.

  As they stepped through the wide doorway into the hotel's main dining room, several heads turned in their direction. Claire forced herself to act as if being with Garrett was an everyday event. She smiled cordially as they passed through the maze of linen-covered tables. Garrett acknowledged several greetings, but he didn't stop long enough to introduce her to the well-dressed men and their equally fashionable companions. A waiter, dressed in stark black trousers and vest with a white starched s
hirt, appeared out of nowhere. He pulled back the chair at a corner table and waited for Claire to be seated.

  Garrett ordered champagne and told the waiter that the chef already knew what he wanted served for dinner.

  “I'm nervous,” Claire whispered, once the waiter had left them alone. The table was far enough away from the other guests for her voice not to be heard but she didn't want to take the chance. “Everyone's staring at me."

  “That's because you're worth staring at,” Garrett told her, amused by her confession. “Relax and enjoy your meal. They're only curious."

  So was Claire. Questions started buzzing around in her head. If Garrett loved his grandmother enough to go to the trouble of hiring a fiancée, he couldn't be as coldhearted as she'd first thought. Coldhearted men didn't weave compassionate schemes.

  Garrett gave the room a quick glance. “The bearded gentleman who spoke to me on the way in is Alexander Stockton. Railroads and gold mines,” Garrett said, as if everyone owned at least one of each. “The lady with him is his second wife. The first Mrs. Stockton died after giving her husband four sons."

  Claire absorbed the names of the people as Garrett listed them and their various assets. “Are they guests at the hotel?” she asked.

  “Some of them,” Garrett replied. “Others are here because the Landauer has one of the best chefs in the city."

  She was about to comment on the quality of the champagne, when Garrett changed the direction of their conversation.

  “I attended school in England,” he told her. “Cambridge."

  She was duly impressed and her expression told him so. Garrett smiled, then casually began telling her about his family. His father had been a banker in St. Louis, and having an adventurous spirit, he'd decided to move West. His insight into the possibilities that California and its neighboring states would soon offer helped to make him a large fortune in a very short period of time.

  “How old were you when your father died?” Claire asked.

  “Twelve. I was an only child, as was my father. That's why Grams is so important to me. When cholera killed my parents, it almost killed her, too."