by Delia Parr
When Harrison scowled at her, she offered him a smile and took his arm. “A donation from the Bradleys to help expand the Refuge is important. I don’t like Mr. Bradley any more than you do, but I can tolerate him for an hour or two. Besides, Philip is always, always on time and more often than not, he arrives for his appointments early. He won’t let anything happen to me.”
He stiffened and narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps I should just send a messenger to Bradley and my cousin and tell them to meet us at the Refuge this afternoon.”
“Even if Philip can be there later, Mr. Bradley has another appointment, which he moved back so he could meet with us this morning, remember?”
His gaze hardened. “You’ll be sure to stay with Philip every moment Bradley is there and come directly home after he leaves?”
“I will,” she promised, pained by her deliberate lie. Oh, how she needed to rectify her sin of omission and explain everything to Harrison.
She turned and prepared to leave this house as Mrs. Harrison Graymoor, the former Mrs. Eric Bradley, ready to become the twice-divorced Annabelle Tyler.
After spending nearly an hour with the women in their knitting circle and explaining that they would be having a very important visitor today, Annabelle excused herself to wait for Philip and Eric in the front foyer fifteen minutes before ten o’clock.
Instead of Philip, Eric unexpectedly arrived first, and he looked about as he approached her. “I’m surprised you don’t have your husband and his cousin standing guard over you. After dining with all of you, I can’t decide which of the two of them is more devoted to you, a point I find very interesting indeed.”
“Harrison won’t be coming today, but I expect his cousin to arrive any moment,” she replied. “Say whatever it is you need to say quickly.”
He stopped in front of her and snickered. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he argued, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and handed it to her. “I’ve written down the amount that I want and the name of the bank where I have the account where I expect you to deposit the funds. Added to the funds I’ve managed to squeeze out of my wife, I’ll be quite satisfied to leave you both behind as unpleasant but highly profitable memories. You’ll be happy to know I’ve decided that it won’t be necessary for us to meet again, but the deadline still stands. If the money hasn’t been deposited by noon two weeks from today, I’ll have my own meeting with your husband.”
Instead of looking at the paper, she folded it over and over until it was slim enough to slide into the knitting stick she wore at her waist. Whatever amount he demanded did not really matter, since she had no intention of paying him. “Would that account be in your name or my father’s?” she snapped, keeping one eye on the door to make certain she saw Philip the moment he arrived.
He removed his winter overcoat and hung it on the peg next to her cape, and she shuddered with the memory of seeing their outer garments hanging side by side in the small cabin they had shared with her mother for the short week they lived together.
“If you must know, Eric Bradley will no longer exist once you’ve made your deposit. William Tyler, on the other hand, will be alive again and ultimately living in a place where there is never any snow,” he said as he shook the snow from his boots.
If she did not have a conscience or a faith that kept her from acting on her first impulse, she would have taken out one of her knitting needles and plunged it straight into his scheming heart. Instead, she refused to give him the satisfaction that she was angered by the fact he was going to live out the rest of his life using her father’s name. “What you call yourself or where you live matters nothing to me,” she retorted. “If all you wanted to do today was to meet with me to give me your instructions, then I would prefer if you left now. I’ll make your apologies to Philip for you.”
He laughed. “And miss watching that foolish man nearly swoon every time he looks at you? I’m rather looking forward to the amusement, although I daresay your husband was not pleased, if you cared to notice.”
When she scowled at him, he ignored her, looked around at the gray stone walls in the foyer, and shuddered. “There’s time yet before I admit that my wife and I won’t be making a donation to this awful place. Why anyone would waste good money on the hapless souls who end up here is a mystery.”
Fuming, Annabelle was tempted to blister his ears and tell him exactly what she thought of him, but Philip chose that precise moment to arrive.
“I see you’re both already here waiting for me,” he said and quickly removed and stored away his outerwear. After shaking hands with Bradley and offering his own apologies for Harrison’s absence, he offered his arm to Annabelle.
She was grateful for his presence, if only to keep her from doing or saying anything that would have her on her knees tonight asking for forgiveness.
An hour later, when Eric abruptly ended the tour and left, offering the excuse that he needed to return home because his son was feeling poorly today, she was so relieved that she found it hard not to grin.
Philip, on the other hand, was clearly dejected. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing Mr. Bradley again,” he said as he helped Annabelle slip into her cape. “I was certain he would be making a donation.”
She tied the top of her cape closed before donning her gloves and retrieving the knitting bag she had stored on the floor below her outerwear while he put his overcoat on. “I suspect you’re right, but you shouldn’t be too disappointed. Didn’t you say you have two other prospects you’ll be seeing this afternoon?”
He nodded. “I sincerely hope they’re more interested than Bradley turned out to be.” The smile he offered her looked halfhearted. “I suppose that just means I’ll have to try harder when I meet with them,” he said, slipped his hand inside of his coat, and checked his pocket watch. “I still have a good three hours left before my first appointment. Would you care to join me for a bit of dinner before I get you back home?”
Determined not to break the rest of her promise to Harrison, she shook her head. “I really shouldn’t. Except for Irene and Graham, the rest of the staff took sick during the night and it’s been a terrible strain on Irene. I’d like to get back to help her. I suspect I’ll have a battle on my hands, but I hope I can convince her to rest a bit while I make dinner.”
The disappointment that dulled his eyes quickly disappeared. “I have a better idea. Let’s go back to the city mansion instead. We can eat there, and I’ll have Mrs. Farley tell the cook to pack up enough dinner for everyone else back home. That way, both you and Irene will be able to rest awhile this afternoon.”
She paused to consider his offer. She did not think Harrison would have any objection, since she and Philip would be dining at his city home where they would be surrounded by his staff. “I accept, on one condition. I’d like to ask Mrs. Farley to have the cook make some good broth for Irene’s patients. They probably won’t be able to eat regular food for a day or two.”
“Done,” he pronounced, then led her outside to the coach that was waiting for him and helped her inside. Once he joined her, he offered her another unexpected opportunity. “I know you spend most of your time in the city at the Refuge. If there’s anything you’d like to stop and purchase before we go home, we can do that.”
She smiled, as grateful for his offer as she was relieved that she still had the coins from selling her first wedding ring in the bottom of her knitting bag. If Harrison did learn this morning that they were now divorced, she did not know if she would have another opportunity to buy something she had been thinking about for a while, although she had yet to decide exactly what that would be.
“If you’re certain it won’t be a bother, there is one stop I think I’d like to make. I’ve heard there’s an emporium of sorts in the city where a number of merchants have their shops, all in the same building.”
“That would be the Philadelphia Arcade. At last count, I believe there were eighty or ninety tenants. It’s not far from here at all. I
’ll take you there.”
True to his word, Philip escorted her into the massive marble-faced building less than ten minutes later. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of shops and their offerings, she feared she would never find what she was looking for in less than a full day.
Until she saw something that caught her eye in one shop that drew her inside, with Philip by her side.
She inspected a small square mirror framed in rich brown leather that was rather heavy, considering it was no bigger than the palm of her hand. She decided at once that it would make the perfect gift, but held her breath until the shopkeeper told her the price. Relieved that she had enough coins, she waited patiently at the counter with Philip while the shopkeeper wrapped up her purchase.
“While the mirror is quite unusual, it’s a bit masculine in style. I’m surprised you didn’t choose something more delicate, like this oval one.” Philip pointed to a small mirror framed in white leather strips woven in a more feminine design.
Reluctant to tell him that the mirror was not for her, she shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m accustomed to more sturdy and durable things,” she replied and hoped she would find the words to explain her gift in writing when she wrote the note she would attach to it before she left it for Harrison to find after she had gone.
And if Harrison was right this morning and his lawyer had summoned him to inform him that their divorce had been granted, she would be leaving within days. If so, she had to tell Harrison the truth about her relationship to Eric Bradley. Tonight.
Chapter Thirty
Harrison had been anticipating the summons to his lawyer’s office for weeks, but he had still been caught off guard when Marshall’s messenger had arrived unexpectedly this morning.
He reached Marshall’s office precisely at nine o’clock, which was the time he had specified in his response, but his lawyer was in a meeting with another client for nearly an hour before Harrison finally was able to see him. “Please tell me you have good news for me about the divorce,” he said as he took a seat in front of the man’s desk.
Marshall shook his head as he cleared all but two of the files that littered his desk, then placed them directly in front of Harrison. “I don’t remember handling more than a handful of other divorces since I opened my practice nearly forty years ago, but I’ve never regarded the end of any marriage as ‘good news.’ ” He opened one of the files and pulled out two long sheaves of papers, which he handed to Harrison.
“As of the seventh of January, you were legally divorced from your wife. Although I have the original court decree from Indiana, you have a copy in your hands, as well as one I prepared for Annabelle. You should keep yours in a safe place, where no one is likely to find it.”
Harrison folded the papers together and set them on the desk in front of him, but he was surprised that he was not as excited as he expected he would be now that the nightmare that had begun almost two months ago was nearly over. All that remained to be done was to get Annabelle settled safely somewhere other than in Philadelphia, and he would finally be free to resume the life he had before he left on that fateful holiday in the fall. “Did Fennimore mention if he had any particular problems?”
His lawyer chuckled. “The poor man must have been traveling day and night to get this done so quickly. He was so tired when he arrived here late yesterday that I doubt the man could remember more than his own name. He did turn over another document that I’ll hold for safekeeping unless you want to take it home. It’s a deed to one hundred acres of land in Indiana you now own.”
“You have all of my other important documents. You may as well keep it here. And see that Fennimore is well rewarded,” he added before he checked his pocket watch. “It’s just after ten thirty. Unless there’s something else we need to discuss today, I can still keep another appointment if I leave now,” he suggested, anxious to get to the Refuge while Bradley was still there.
“Don’t rush off. There’s something rather important I need to share with you,” Marshall insisted. “Before I do, you should know that I’ve drawn the funds for Annabelle’s settlement. Do you want to give it to her, or would you rather send her to my office to collect it?”
“I’ll take it with me,” he replied, and his lawyer set an envelope on top of the divorce papers Harrison was going to take with him. Curious to know what else the lawyer had to say, he left everything sitting on the desk and nodded. “Whatever it is you need to say, be brief. I really do need to leave for my other appointment.”
Marshall leaned forward in his chair and rested both palms on the top of his desk. “When you first came to me to ask me to arrange for your divorce, you told me to do whatever I thought necessary to make that happen. Do you recall saying that?”
“Not really, but I have no reason to think that I didn’t. We both know you always have full rein to act on my behalf.” He cocked his head. “Why?
“I hired an investigator to look into your wife’s background, and I have a copy of his report I want you to read.”
Harrison shook his head as if he had misheard the lawyer. “You did what?”
“I hired an investigator to look into your wife’s background,” Marshall repeated a bit more firmly. “You may have been quite satisfied that you knew all there was to know about the woman you were forced to marry, but I’m your lawyer. You pay me well to protect your interests, and I felt it was necessary to have her investigated.”
“You were hired to protect my business and financial interests, not my personal affairs,” Harrison spat, furious with the man’s audacity.
Marshall matched his client’s hard glare with his own. “In this case, I don’t see how you could separate one interest from the other. Did it ever occur to you that Annabelle might have played a less-than-innocent role in that robbery and your subsequent forced marriage, or that the real profit would not have come from the robbery itself but from a divorce settlement she planned to share with the other conspirators? You may have dismissed that possibility, assuming you even thought of it in the first place, but I didn’t have that luxury.”
Harrison pointed to the file containing the investigator’s report and shook his finger at it. “If you don’t remember, then let me remind you that Annabelle was extremely reluctant to even sign the settlement agreement, let alone accept it, which she still asserts she won’t do. She could never be part of any scheme or conspiracy to do anything wrong. It’s simply not in her nature. If that’s what your investigator claims in his report, then you need to burn it, because it’s more than worthless. It’s a slanderous attack on her character that I have no intention of reading,” he hissed, prepared to fire this lawyer and hire a new one before he left the city today.
Marshall lifted both hands in mock surrender. “That’s not what the report contains at all, but it could have. If I may be bold enough to remind you, you’ve misjudged more than one woman in the past, including Vienna Biddle, who has used your rejection as an excuse to malign you as well as Annabelle. I could also mention Jane—”
“I wasn’t married to her or any of those other women,” Harrison retorted, reluctant to discuss the few but costly mistakes he had made with other women. “I know Annabelle better than I’ve ever known any woman. I’ve lived with her for nearly two months now, and I know her heart better than I know my own. She’s absolutely incapable of guile.”
“On one level, perhaps she is. But it’s often difficult for a man to accept there are any flaws in a woman as lovely as Annabelle, especially when he doesn’t even realize that he truly loves her. Or that the woman he was forced to marry might have come to hold him in high regard or even fallen in love with him, as incredible as that might seem to be.”
Harrison dismissed his lawyer’s words. His affection for Annabelle might have grown, but that was the extent of it. He also rejected the possibility that Annabelle had any feelings for him beyond a genuine concern for his character.
He had detected a few glances from her that spoke of an affection t
hat went beyond the friendship they now shared. But he was certain they were nothing more than an effort to keep others from guessing the true nature of their relationship. “You’re either daft or addled, and I don’t like the fact that you said Annabelle might be capable of guile on any level. She’s told me all about her past. I know she was trained and has worked as a teacher, but gave up her position after her father died. I know she cared for her ailing mother until she died, too, and she was coming here to Philadelphia in search of a new position. But she’ll never be able to teach again—not with being divorced. So as you can see, there’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know. Nothing. Destroy the report,” he insisted. He got to his feet and snatched up the papers, as well as her settlement.
His lawyer stood up to face him eye to eye. “Life won’t be easier for either of you if anyone else finds out what this report contains, but I can assure you that the investigator has been paid rather handsomely to hold his counsel. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how close you and Annabelle had become. I just assumed that she hadn’t told you about her previous divorce.”
Harrison flinched, as if he had been punched square in the gut. His heart pounded hard with denial, and his hands tightened on the papers he was holding. In fact, he was actually weak in the knees for the first time in his life, and he eased back down into his seat.
“You didn’t know,” his lawyer murmured and sat down, as well.
Harrison shook his head, but his thoughts were so jumbled he could not trust himself to say anything beyond one word: “No.”
With a deep sigh, Marshall opened the report. “I assume you’ll want to take this with you and read it carefully, but I can tell you what it contains about her previous marriage and divorce, if you like.”
