Peter shrugged his broad shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. "There's no death certificate on file. And I found the midwife. She's a drunk of no use to anyone now, but someone sends her money regularly every month. She wouldn't tell me anything. I doubt that she remembers anything to tell. I'll have to tell our father that he's wasting his money there."
Daniel's hands clenched into fists at the subtle admission of Peter's words. He responded coolly. "Not filing a death certificate was a rather stupid mistake. I'm certain it could have been done easily enough. There's enough dead babies in those slums to provide as many death certificates as anyone could wish."
Peter shrugged again, but the tension in his stance was evident. "He might have been afraid that he wouldn't have any more sons and kept his options open. That's typical of him."
"How good to know. He might have dragged me back, lame leg and all, if none of you had been born. Now I have another reason to resent the hell out of you all. Will you get out of here now? I smell something worse in here than Georgie's perfume."
The bedroom door crashed open again. A highly irate figure in trailing silks stalked past and down the hall. Daniel drifted toward the window overlooking the street.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me what's going on here?" Peter asked.
Counting mentally, Daniel didn't answer until Georgina emerged on the count of one. He watched as she stormed across the street and entered the factory office. "She just walked out on me. I have to go get her." He turned and glanced without curiosity at Peter. "Why are you still here?"
Peter's face stiffened. "I talked to Mother this morning. She wants to see you."
"Good for her." Daniel unfastened the rest of his shirt studs as he walked toward the bedroom with its shattered windows.
Peter grabbed his arm. "Don't you understand? I had to tell her the whole sordid story. She's thought you dead for twenty-eight years."
Daniel shrugged him off and continued across the hall. "As far as the whole damned family goes, I am dead. I don't want any part of it. I've got a wife to look after."
He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.
Struggling with emotions of his own, Peter clenched and unclenched his fists, waited a few minutes, then started down the stairs. In the past few weeks his life had become a nightmare from which he still hoped he would wake. Losing Georgina had only been the first stroke. Now it appeared as if everything he had once taken for granted would be lost. He wanted to fight the horrifying sensations of loss and betrayal, but in a way, they were opening up a whole new world.
Peter didn't want to quite contemplate that yet. He had been taught duty at an early age, and he still had a few duties yet to accomplish.
Daniel listened to him leave without any sign of regret. Last night had finished off any hopes he might have harbored of becoming reconciled with his family. There wasn't any doubt in his mind over who was responsible for almost costing them serious injury, if not their lives. Apparently, his father drew the line at actually killing his unwanted son outright. He just hired thugs to threaten him. But when it came to threatening Georgina, Daniel drew his own line. What had first been an exploratory venture was now full-scale war.
Georgina wasn't surprised when Daniel appeared in the factory office a short while later. She was only surprised that he hadn't come sooner. Ignoring him, she turned back to the foreman she had just been castigating.
"I know you've worked for my father for years. You can work for him again when he returns. But right now, while I'm here, you'd better just get out of my sight. I'll not have that kind of behavior in my factory." For all she knew, her father could return from Chicago or wherever tomorrow, but she derived a great sense of satisfaction from her command.
"You can't fire me. You don't own this place. You're going to cost your daddy a lot of money if you try to get rid of me." Only slightly taller than Georgina and of a wiry build, the foreman pulled himself into a threatening posture.
"Then don't consider yourself fired," Georgina answered sweetly. "Just consider yourself on unpaid leave. But if you show yourself in this building again, I'll call the police."
Daniel leaned against the wall, not saying a word. The furious foreman sent him a look, but if he'd expected any help from that quarter, he got none. With rage he demanded, "I want the wages owed me right now."
Georgina nodded at the secretary. "Doris, give him a check for what he's owed."
"Your father advanced him a week's salary some time ago. He's never paid it back." Checking her calendar, Doris looked up without expression. "He owes us for three days' pay."
"How fortunate." Georgina continued to smile sweetly. "I'll dismiss you with three days' pay bonus, Mr. Emory. Good day."
She turned around and walked into the office, closing the door after her without acknowledging Daniel at all. Crossing his arms over his chest, he met the foreman's gaze with equanimity. Emory glared at him, then departed without another word.
Daniel shifted his gaze to Doris. "Tell my wife I'll be out for a few hours. If she needs anything, she should send for Douglas Harrison. He'll know where to find me."
Like the good secretary she was, Doris expressed no comment and asked no question, she merely nodded her head and jotted down the name on her notepad.
When Daniel didn't storm her office or send Doris in to fetch her or any of the other things any normal man would have done, Georgina was left to pace. She didn't dare leave the office for fear he would still be standing there, waiting disapprovingly for her to acknowledge him. And she didn't send for him because she didn't want to face him.
She didn't know what she wanted. It wasn't an unusual state of mind for her, she admitted. She'd fired slave-driving Emory because she wanted to make this factory work as she had wanted to make her marriage work. And she had wanted to help those poor clerks at Mulloney's and the ones forced to live in those deteriorating houses under Egan's jurisdiction. But she didn't know how to do any of that, and the events of last night had left her doubting the wisdom of trying.
She had enough sense to know that whoever had shot out their windows hadn't meant to kill them. They were incredibly careless of their safety and serious injury could have been done, but she was quite certain that would have only been a pleasant side effect for the terrorist. The man had accomplished exactly what he had set out to do: he'd terrified her.
Georgina pulled in her stomach and straightened her shoulders as she realized this. He had meant to terrorize her, not Daniel. No one knowing Daniel would think he would be afraid of a few shotgun pellets. Was her father still trying to separate her from Daniel? Or was Artemis Mulloney trying to reach Daniel by scaring her?
She didn't know, but she couldn't let them win. She hadn't walked out this morning because of the shotgun blasts, though no one would know that but she and Daniel. She would have to go back and face up to the shambles of their marriage just to defy whoever was after them.
At least Daniel and Peter hadn't been killing each other when she left. That had been the final straw, hearing Daniel fell his own brother with his fists without any provocation whatsoever. Or perhaps there had been some provocation. Daniel probably thought Peter was involved in the shooting. She could have told him that Peter wasn't like that, but Daniel wouldn't have believed her. Her judgment so far hadn't been all that spectacular, so she could scarcely blame him. She just knew it wouldn't solve anything for the brothers to be at each other's throats.
If they were truly brothers. Throwing up her hands in defeat, Georgina slammed out of her office. Thinking wasn't what she did best. She needed action. Relieved to find the office empty of all but Doris, she headed for the factory. The women in there might resent the hell out of her, but they obeyed orders. A few changes in design, and she'd have orders from every department store in Ohio. Mulloney's was falling behind the times.
By the end of the day she had streamlined the undergarment line by producing a more modern pattern which required less f
abric. Extremely pleased with herself, she declared five o'clock to be the new closing hour, and listened with no small amount of self-congratulation as the women hurried home in trails of laughter and excitement. Today she had managed to make a difference.
At least she knew about sewing and fashion. What she didn't know about was accounting and finance. Sitting in the deserted office, Georgina stared at the company books as if they were tomes of Greek. She didn't like the numbers written in red. There were too many of them, and the color wasn't reassuring. She thought it might be simpler to just heave these books out and start new ones.
She rifled through the files in her father's desk, finding stacks of bills from assorted manufacturers that hadn't been marked paid. Nothing showed how much was owed Mulloney. That was all right; there weren't any invoices showing the cost of how much was shipped to Mulloney's, either. She hoped the men knew what they owed each other, because she was going to pretend the debt didn't exist until someone showed her a piece of paper with numbers on it.
She wouldn't know what to do with it if they did, but she would worry about that when the time came. Glancing out the office window and seeing the lengthening shadows, Georgina realized the time had come to decide what to do about her personal life. That wasn't quite so easily done as manipulating a few pieces of paper and cloth. Objects could easily be handled. Daniel couldn't.
She would have to face Daniel. Straightening out the desk, she reluctantly blew out the lamp and locked up.
The sun was still shining down the length of the street between the buildings as Georgina stepped out. These bricks and boards weren't quite the same as the spacious tree-studded yard of her parents' home, but she didn't particularly miss the difference. Her world had always been made up of people, not trees. And the one important person in her world right now was in that building across the street.
She would have to adjust to the idea that Daniel was important to her. Georgina rebelled against the notion, not wanting to admit that a stranger who had been thrown into her life a few weeks ago could suddenly become the most important thing in her existence, but deep down, she knew the truth. Daniel was inside of her in more ways than she was willing to admit, in more ways than he knew. Cutting him out would be impossible now.
Sunlight still streamed through the hall windows as Georgina climbed the stairs, but when she opened the office door, she was greeted by the shadows of lamplight. She looked at the boards covering the room's one window, then looked for some sign of Daniel.
The thump-thump of the press told her where he was. Closing the hall door, Georgina allowed her eyes to adjust to this artificial dusk. She finally realized in addition to the boards on the window, a new object had been added to the decor. A heavy black stove now stood in front of the boarded window, its pipe connected to the board and presumably by some arrangement to the outside. Heat emanated from that end of the room; and a pot sitting on top bubbled and steamed, sending out delicious aromas.
She knew absolutely nothing about kitchens, but the contraption drew her to investigate. She was cautiously stirring a spoon around in the bubbling brew when the press shut down and Daniel appeared carrying the first run of the next day's paper.
Georgina covered the pot and laid down the spoon, discreetly hiding her hands behind her back as she turned around to greet him. He was examining the headline, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he frowned at some error needing correction. When he finally looked up, his smile was vague.
"You're home, good." Giving the front page one more glance, Daniel laid it aside. "I bought some things down at the market and threw them in a pot. They ought to be done by now."
Nervous now, Georgina glanced about uncertainly. "I suppose we can set that table if I clear off the books. Do we have any plates?"
"Plates?" Daniel took off his spectacles and finally returned to the world in front of him. His blank look turned to a sheepish grin. "I usually just eat out of the pot. I've got some forks around here somewhere."
How could anyone stay angry at a man like that? It simply wasn't possible. Georgina cleared off the table by the chair, turned up the lamp, and neatly laid the forks that Daniel produced beside their places. He took the wooden chair that he had bought some days before, and she settled into the easy chair. Her seat was too low; his was too wide. They looked up at each other and grinned.
"All right, so maybe we're missing a few amenities. I'll find you a proper house just as soon as a few things settle down." Daniel tasted the stew in the pot, burned his mouth, and held the fork away from him to let it cool.
Georgina nodded cautiously, blew on her forkful of food, then gingerly tasted it. Once she got past the heat, she hungrily ate the bite. All it took was an empty belly to appreciate the humbler things in life. "It's good. I didn't know you could cook."
"I can't. I just watched a lot. I was always starving and hovered around the kitchen whenever anyone would let me near. It didn't look like too complicated a task."
They spread the front page out on the table and studied it as they ate. Daniel pulled out his pencil and marked errors as Georgina made suggestions. There hadn't been much time for sensationalism for this edition. Daniel had settled for listing the grievous conditions of the housing owned by ABC Rentals, reported tales of beatings and terroristic tactics by the company's rent collectors, and then listed the owners of ABC as Artemis Mulloney and Mulloney's Department Store.
Georgina didn't know where he had learned that last piece of information, but Artemis and the store were one and the same to her. She just wished she had her camera so she could have taken pictures of those humble dwellings with their falling roofs and rotten privies. Photographs would have been a good deal more eloquent than words.
Full, she sat back in the chair and opened the paper to peruse the inside.
From across the table Daniel said softly, "You'd better pack your satchel, Georgina. We need to take you over to the hotel."
She lowered the paper without a word and stared at him. She knew that determined expression setting his jaw, and right now, she hated it.
Just as she was beginning to settle in, he was going to throw her out.
Chapter 30
"I'm not going to a hotel." Georgina carefully laid the paper aside and got up.
Daniel followed her. "It's not safe here, Georgie. I have some savings. When the next check comes from my publisher, we'll find a house."
Georgina crossed the hall and entered the bedroom. He'd boarded up these windows, too, and swept up the glass. She should have been the one to do that. She was pretty much a failure at being a wife. She hadn't even been here to cook his dinner—not that she knew how anyway.
"Will you stay in it with me? Or will you be sleeping with your damned press?" Georgina grabbed her satchel and examined the contents. Without a dresser, she had been pretty much living out of suitcases anyway.
"I have to stay with it right now. Last night was just a warning. They'll be back with worse. I've been through this before, Georgie. You've got to understand..."
Georgina threw the satchel on the bed and headed for her trunk. "I understand. I understand you never meant to be married, that I'm in your way, that I'm just another burden for you to bear. I'm tired of people wanting to be rid of me. I'll admit, I'm pretty useless. So I'll just get out of the way. I can learn how to take care of myself."
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To the factory office. There's a couch there that will suit me just fine. I don't need you. I don't need anybody." Georgina suspected she was beginning to sound hysterical, so she shut up and shoved fresh clothing into the open satchel. Tears welled behind her eyes, but she had no intention of weeping in front of Daniel. She'd save that until she was alone.
Daniel grabbed her arms from behind, keeping her from stuffing any more garments into complete ruin. "Stop being childish, Georgina. This is just temporary, for your own safety. You don't have to act as if I'm throwing you out."
&nb
sp; She broke loose of the grip on one arm and swung around, standing up to him, even if her chin measured to his shirt button. "You are throwing me out! You have as much as said that I'm a nuisance, that I'm in your way. Of what earthly use am I to you, anyway? Just let me go, Daniel. I know when I'm not wanted." She jerked the other arm free and reached to snap her satchel closed.
Daniel grabbed the satchel and threw it across the room. He caught her waist and jerked her around to face him again. Before Georgina could scream a protest, his mouth was covering hers, filling her with heat and desire and a passion that flared out of control much too easily. She had used the wrong phrase when she had said she wasn't wanted.
Whatever point he had meant to prove went up in flames as their suppressed desires erupted in this kiss. Georgina cried out her surrender, digging her fingers into Daniel's shoulders as he clasped her so close she could feel the length of him hardening against her abdomen. Excitement flared, and she responded with what little knowledge she possessed, returning his plundering kisses, running her hands up and down his back, pulling him into herself.
Daniel groaned against her mouth, but his hands covered her breasts, pushing at them through the layers of clothing. Heat burned in places Georgina didn't know how to name, but she knew what to do about them. She reached behind her and began unfastening her bodice.
He knew what she was doing. He hesitated, pulling away to look down at her as if questioning her reasoning, but then he lifted her to the bed and fell down beside her.
Daniel pulled up her skirts, finding the opening in her drawers with calculated ease. Georgina cried out in surprise when he touched her there, his rough fingers rubbing sensitive flesh, then exploring deeper. Had they really done this that night they were both drunk? It couldn't be possible. She couldn't possibly...
The rasp of his fingers elicited a long drawn-out groan as they plunged into her. She ought to protest. She ought to show some semblance of shame. But her body had a mind of its own. Her hips raised off the bed to meet his thrusts.
Texas Tiger TH3 Page 26
