A Dangerous Legacy

by Elizabeth Camden

  But a four-percent commission wouldn’t come fast enough for the immediate repair in the music room.

  Thomas finished speaking and awaited his answer, but Colin allowed the silence to stretch for a full twenty paces. As they neared a wild mulberry hedge, Thomas held a branch aside and let Colin pass. The fishing pond was straight ahead, but neither commented on it as they came to a halt.

  “If I get the embargo lifted, I’ll need a five-thousand-dollar fee to be paid immediately,” he stated. “Then the four-percent commission in perpetuity.”

  Thomas nearly choked. “That is a little richer than anticipated.”

  So was the cost of a new roof. “I remember my father telling me a story about the time the Crown cut a deal with a factory in Manchester to supply wool socks to soldiers fighting in the Napoleonic wars. The London manufacturer who’d been making army uniforms protested, claiming socks were part of the official uniform and the Crown had no right to buy the socks from an outside company. The Manchester factory put up a fuss and tried to enforce the contract. Quite a rumpus ensued. The Crown knows they were in the wrong but doesn’t want to admit it. I believe that court case is still dragging on to this day.”

  Thomas was intelligent enough to understand exactly what Colin was saying. Each year, more and more tall buildings were being erected in cities throughout the United Kingdom. It could take decades to loosen the bureaucratic quagmire without the help of someone to grease the wheels. There was nothing illegal about it, and it would get Colin a new roof over the music room.

  The pleasant façade Thomas Drake had been showing him for the past two days slipped, revealing the iron glint Lucy had warned him about. Thomas folded his arms and glared at the line of trees on the far side of the pond.

  “I’ve always prided myself on being a shrewd man of business,” Thomas said. “If I accept your terms, I’d want something more in exchange.”

  Colin raised a brow, and Thomas continued. “My wife does not feel our family has been warmly received by the local community. The prominent families in the vicinity have been here since before the American Revolution. Their roots are old and deep, as are their fortunes. Our money is new, and in their eyes, it carries a taint. That bothers my wife.”

  Given his terse tone, the chilly reception bothered Thomas as well.

  “What are you suggesting?” Colin asked.

  The frosty glare warmed, and the congenial host returned. “You have a name and a title that is bound to impress. If we form a business alliance, it would be natural for you to be an occasional visitor at Oakmonte. A few more visits such as this would be welcome. Margaret would enjoy having you as our guest of honor when we entertain the local community for a formal dinner or two. No more than that.”

  Colin smiled. Thomas Drake might be a viper, but he was a rich viper and willing to splash a little of his money around. Just because Lucy inherited an ax to grind didn’t mean Colin couldn’t establish a decent rapport with a man offering a tempting business alliance.

  “We have a deal,” he said.

  Chapter

  Ten

  Lucy sat on a hard wooden bench in Grand Central Station, watching thousands of people come and go. Colin would be arriving on the next train from Saratoga. He’d been gone on his business trip for a week, and during that time had visited Philadelphia, Boston, New Haven, and Saratoga. He’d seen more of the United States than she had, as she’d never even left the state.

  What was it like in Saratoga? She’d heard about the rolling hills blanketed with verdant forests and sparkling lakes. Oakmonte sounded like such a grand place, and she was embarrassingly curious about what sort of life her Saratoga relatives lived when they weren’t aiming darts at her from the other side of a courtroom. She doubted she would ever see it, though. Once, when her father was trying to find an amicable solution to the court case, he had visited Uncle Thomas at Oakmonte. The visit was supposed to last only two days, but her father was gone for a month and was a nervous wreck when he returned.

  He’d had very little to say about what happened during his visit. “Oakmonte is a nice house,” he’d said, but his hands trembled, and he didn’t look anyone in the eyes. He seemed old and haggard. Even her mother noticed, but he brushed her concerns away. “I was ill and lost a little weight,” her father said. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Lucy was only fourteen but could easily see that her father had lost more than a little weight. His trousers were so loose they looked ready to fall off, and his neck no longer filled his collar.

  “Will you go back?” she had asked. “Can I come next time?”

  Her father had shuddered, and the color drained from his face. “No. Oakmonte is a terrible place,” he whispered on a shattered breath.

  It had been confusing. Hadn’t he just said it was nice? But he was adamant, and the conversation was never reopened.

  That visit to Saratoga had been the last time her father tried to cooperate with Uncle Thomas. It seemed like everything got worse after that. They’d been bombarded with a hailstorm of new court motions as both sides hardened their positions.

  The memory of her father’s visit to Oakmonte caused a knot of tension to gather behind Lucy’s forehead, made worse by the rumbling of trains in the terminal station. Surely Colin would have been well treated at Oakmonte, for Aunt Margaret craved social status like a hungry cat stalking prey.

  “Looking for me?”

  She whirled around. Colin stood directly behind her, grinning with reckless bravado. With his open collar and hair in disarray, he looked as dashing as Heathcliff coming in off the moors. But friendlier.

  “How was your trip?” she asked, trying to ignore the zing of attraction that made her a little breathless.

  “Profitable,” he said. “You’ll be glad to know that the American newspapers who have chosen to contract with Reuters instead of the AP are all first-class operations. They are not suffering from their lack of AP stories whatsoever.”

  “Probably because they don’t know any better.”

  “No, no, they do,” he rushed to say. “They’re immensely grateful that the Crown allows them to partake of superior British reporting, for the AP journalists have little sense of style, nor can they spell. I was embarrassed for you.”

  A little girl nudged her way in between them, holding up a tray of cigarettes for sale. Colin declined the cigarettes but pushed a few coins into the girl’s grubby palm.

  A teenage boy pounced the moment the girl left. “Shoeshine, mister?”

  “No, thank you,” Colin said but still reached into his vest pocket, digging around but coming up empty.

  Sensing a payoff, the boy moved closer. “Those shoes are a disgrace, mister. Think how disappointed your mother will be when she sees you looking so shabby. Sit down and let me shine ’em up for you.”

  “Lucy, have you got a few cents?” Colin asked. “It appears I’m flat broke until I can land that American heiress.”

  She shot the boy an annoyed glare and pushed a nickel into his hand. “Let’s try to find somewhere private,” she said. “There’s a parcel room at the end of the lobby that shouldn’t be crowded.”

  Rows of metal lockers provided a modicum of privacy in the cramped parcel room, and the few people inside were too busy storing their baggage to pay them any mind. Lucy strode to the end of the aisle, itching to learn what Colin had discovered about Jacob and Oakmonte. Colin wasted no time getting to the point.

  “Jacob Drake was nowhere to be found,” he said. “There is a locked wing where everyone claims he lives, but I got into it, and the rooms are empty. The only room that might belong to him was abandoned.”

  “Did he move out?”

  “If he did, he left a wardrobe full of clothes behind.” Colin went on to relay how Uncle Thomas claimed his father was too old to meet with visitors and Tom Jr.’s healthy dislike of his grandfather.

  “I think Jacob may be dead,” Colin said. “The family went out of their way to make me b
elieve the old man had the run of the east wing. Can you think of any reason why your uncle would want to disguise his father’s death? Are their implications for control of the company?”

  “I have no idea.” But this news was startling. She wouldn’t put anything past Uncle Thomas, but Drake Industries was a privately run company and had no obligation to reveal their business dealings to anyone. Colin didn’t have any insight into Jacob’s mysterious disappearance, but he had plenty to say about the others.

  “Your aunt is a marvel of nastiness. I overheard her scolding the cook over two spoiled oranges. The cook bought an entire crate of oranges but apparently failed to adequately inspect them, and those two oranges incensed Margaret to the point that she demanded the maid take them back to town for a refund. She wanted the maid to walk rather than tire the horses. I’ve heard of thrifty, I’ve heard of cheap, but this was just a mean spirit.”

  “Did she act that way to you?”

  “Not at all. She couldn’t have been nicer to my face, which makes me mistrust her even more. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was goading your uncle into pursuing this lawsuit to absolute victory. Remember—the price of the valves did not get jacked up until after your uncle took control of the company. Is the greed driven by Thomas or Margaret?”

  Lucy felt confidence gathering inside her. In the past five minutes, she had learned more about the Saratoga Drakes than she and Nick had gleaned in years.

  “Tom Jr. has Olympic aspirations,” Colin continued. “He felt compelled to take me on an early-morning shooting trip to demonstrate his prowess. I thought he might be an overconfident windbag, but he is in fact an exceptional marksman. He is also upholding the myth that his grandfather is living in the east wing of the house.”

  She’d been too distracted by the way the dim light played off the finely sculpted planes of his face to hear what he was saying, but his words eventually penetrated her haze of besotted musings.

  “You went shooting?”

  “Tom went shooting. I fumbled with a shotgun and tried not to embarrass myself by blowing off my own foot. Must uphold the reputation of king and country, and all that.”

  His tone was lighthearted, but tension lurked just beneath the cool tenor of his voice. Subjecting himself to a morning of shooting in order to investigate the Saratoga Drakes was genuinely admirable. She scrambled for the words to thank him, but it was hard to think when battling waves of attraction that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

  “You’re a very impressive man,” she finally said.

  “Really?” he asked. He wasn’t being facetious; the flush of pleasure on his face was genuine, as though he was surprised at her compliment.

  He shouldn’t be. Colin was embarrassed by his fear of guns, but it was real, and he’d endured it for her. Nothing had ever been more flattering, and she beamed up at him in gratitude.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said on a shaking breath.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it makes me want to do this.” He closed the space between them and kissed her.

  This shouldn’t be happening, but she mindlessly stood up on tiptoe to return the kiss. Oh, this was a bad idea. Terrible. She’d never be able to face him if she encountered him in the elevator at work. . . .

  She tore herself away and tried to make light of what had just happened. “You know I’ll have to split my vast inheritance with my brother. Right now I’ve only got about two hundred dollars to my name.”

  He regarded her with fondness and a hint of something else. Regret? Whatever it was, his voice was tender and funny as he replied. “That won’t even buy the paint for a single room at Whitefriars. It looks as if we are doomed.” He toyed with her fingers, triggering shivers through her arm. “I suppose I ought to apologize for the kiss,” he continued. “I’m not free to pursue you and had no business behaving as if I were. If you would like to haul off for a good face-slapping, or if your brother would like to challenge me to a duel . . .”

  She didn’t regret it. No one had kissed her since Samuel broke their engagement more than a year earlier, and it felt good to believe, however briefly, that she was still desirable to a man.

  “Maybe if we were different people, it would have been fun to see where this led,” Lucy said. “As it is, it’s time to go our separate ways. I need to thank you for going all the way to Oakmonte for me. Anyone facing down the Saratoga Drakes deserves a medal for heroism.”

  Colin shrugged. “It looks as if it will actually be a profitable trip. Your uncle had an interesting business proposition I could not resist.”

  At first she thought he was joking, but as he relayed the specifics of a deal in which he would regularly visit the Saratoga Drakes, a sense of betrayal warred with an urge to protect him. Didn’t he realize how underhanded her uncle could be? It seemed so smarmy, showing up at Oakmonte for weekends in the sun in exchange for Colin’s promise to smooth the way for the Drake valve in England. It was a stark reminder that Colin Beckwith was a man willing to barter his hand in marriage for a well-capitalized heiress.

  “How much?” she asked tightly.

  “How much . . . what?”

  “How much is my uncle prepared to pay you in exchange for your sham friendship?”

  He peered down at her with a raised brow. Centuries of breeding showed in that haughty look. “I’m not sure that’s any of your concern.”

  This conversation was making her blood run cold. Uncle Thomas could be smooth and charming, but he was vile, and Colin seemed to be forgetting that.

  “You don’t know him like I do,” she warned. “No amount of money is worth the price of your soul, and you’re putting it in danger by getting into bed with that snake.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The warmth in Colin’s eyes evaporated, and his voice was coiled in ill-concealed anger.

  “This is a business arrangement,” he snapped. “It is perfectly legal and the sort of thing that happens all the time. I’m not getting into bed with anyone.”

  “Except possibly Amelia Wooten.”

  The accusation slipped out before Lucy considered how nasty it sounded.

  Colin’s eyes turned hard, and his mouth thinned. “I believe our business here is concluded.”

  He turned his back on her and headed toward the main terminal. She chased after him to apologize, but his long legs devoured distance while her narrow skirt forced her into mincing steps.

  “Colin, wait! I’m sorry!”

  He didn’t turn around but raised an arm to acknowledge that he heard her. He disappeared into the thickening crowds, leaving her heartsick with guilt and unfulfilled dreams. It wasn’t in her character to be so mean, but she simply hurt. Longing for Colin while he chased an heiress and a sketchy alliance with Thomas made her bitter; the kind of person who threw darts. It wasn’t who she wanted to be.

  She sagged against the lockers, the cold of the metal penetrating her blouse. How could she want a man who was selling his soul? The good Lord knew she wasn’t perfect. Every day she eavesdropped on a wire that was entirely illegal, but she was fighting to carry out the wishes of her grandfather, a humble man who only wanted to bring the dignity of clean water to everyone, rich and poor. I can build things to make life better for the people around me. And when I do that, I feel God smiling on me.

  She did, too. Each time she and Nick installed a Drake valve in a tenement, she felt God smiling on her. She didn’t fight for personal gain, but Colin did, and he was willing to befriend the man who threatened Mr. Garzelli with deportation over a valve her grandfather would have given away for free.

  It still didn’t justify her nasty jab at Colin. She had been deliberately mean because she hankered after what could never be.

  And for that there was no excuse.

  Lucy sat at her booth, translating stories as they came over the wire from Europe. It was always busy at this time of day, which she liked, because it got her mind off Colin Beckwith. A flurry of dots a
nd dashes came across the wire, reporting that the Queen of England paid nine cents for a cafeteria meal when she dined with a group of factory girls in London’s East End. Two Italian revolutionaries had been arrested after trying to plant a bomb in an Austrian hotel, and there had been a riot at a bullfight in Madrid.

  The rush of European news at the end of the day was always fascinating. Would she ever see Madrid? Or a bullfight? Sometimes the news made her feel a little low. She didn’t have much of a life outside her job and the lawsuit. The closest she got was reading about other people.

  And lately she was reading about Colin Beckwith escorting Amelia Wooten around town, so apparently his courtship was progressing at full steam. The story of his collapse at the Wooten dinner hadn’t resurfaced, so whoever was responsible for it must have failed to notice it was never published.

  After transcribing an epically long and dull story on German bankruptcy law, she was in need of a rest.

  She bet Roland Montgomery would be at his post and happy for a little diversion on his remote Pacific island. She opened the connection.

  “M B—P 4,” she keyed. “This is LD seeking bored Midway agent.”

  “I’m here” came Roland’s reply a few minutes later. “Losing my mind out here. Only excitement is watching the coconuts grow. Any good news from home?”

  She already knew what Roland would want to know. “TR plowing ahead for the canal through Panama. Colombia resists. Standoff continues.”

  Before Roland’s reply came, the tiny lightbulb nestled behind her potted geranium flashed to life. She immediately disconnected the bulb.

  She sent a quick message to Roland. “Stepping away. Incoming story.” With a smooth flick of her wrist, she switched wires on her sounder to listen in on a message from the law office already in progress.

  —hire droppers to bump him off. Best done in Baltimore while he is traveling. TD will arrange financing in August. Suggest using foreign droppers to avoid detection. Over.