Zia Bruna had always acknowledged Grace’s right as a woman to make her own choices. Bruna had lived her life by her own rules and had tried to instill in Grace a sense of self-worth.
Life had been difficult in America for an immigrant widow, but Bruna had never complained. The tender feelings Grace had for her aunt went beyond gratitude, since she had been very young when she lost her mother, yet she and her aunt related as adults rather than mother and daughter. Bruna had meant everything to her in a childhood fraught with uncertainty and loneliness.
By the time Grace had dressed for bed and climbed quietly into the berth, Bruna breathed evenly, asleep. Grace felt a niggling sense of remorse for entangling her aunt and Jared in such a mess. And she had a feeling Jared wasn’t telling her everything. She’d have to do some investigating on her own. Make some calls. Call in a few favors. After all, she was in control of her own destiny, wasn’t she?
Chapter Sixteen
Something was wrong. He squeezed his eyes tight, squinting at the photo, tilting it back and forth, holding it close, then at arm’s length.
A smug, satisfied look settled on his face.
He walked over to the wall and pinned the photograph next to the others already there. He liked Angela’s hair long. Why she’d ever gone and cut it short was a mystery.
She knew how he felt about it. All that beautiful hair cascading through his fingers when he made love to her. Twisting it in his fist, holding her down while she squirmed under him.
Then she’d gone and cut it short.
He lay back against the bed’s headboard and stared at the rows of pictures on the wall. She’d posed real pretty for most of them. And even if she didn’t, he’d had a right to take them. She’d put him through hell with all her other men.
He could picture her in the jewelry. All the sparkling colors on her nude body. Rainbows against her creamy skin.
The last job had been the best. That ruby had to be worth a fortune. Angela would look great in his bed wearing nothing but that big ruby in her belly button.
So he’d had a few problems this time. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Quigley tried to blackmail him. Imagine! The little weasel thought he could push him around. Well, he found out that nobody,
nobody
took what was his.
He laughed aloud and reached for the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand.
Soon it would be over. He rested his arms behind his head and scanned the pictures again, down the row to the last one. She was just lucky she’d let it grow long again. He liked it long.
Chapter Seventeen
Jared’s locomobile, driven by Mr. Cobb, his chauffeur, approached Ravenhall’s long driveway in late afternoon. The extensive grounds blazed red, yellow, and orange over a blanket of lush green. Jared leaned back into the comfortable leather seat and studied Grace and her aunt as the vehicle turned onto the drive, the sounds and odors of New York City left behind.
Zia Bruna’s thin lips were set in a straight line, her expressionless gaze turned toward the window. Jared knew his wealth didn’t impress her. She wanted security and happiness for her niece; she wanted the kind of assurances that had nothing to do with money.
At his insistence, Grace had slept during the ride from the train station to his home. Exhausted, she dozed peacefully with her head nestled in the corner of the vehicle. Risking Zia Bruna’s censure, Jared couldn’t resist watching her sleep. She sighed softly, and her tiny pink tongue had flickered out to lick her bottom lip.
A shiver ran through his groin. The fact that he liked her both surprised him and made him uncomfortable because he had started this adventure bent on seduction. He would swear to her innocence now. She’d reacted to her own passion with the curiosity and the breathless wonder of a novice. Whoever this Adam was, Jared didn’t think she had given herself to him. Not willingly, at least.
The locomobile rounded the final bend. Double rows of towering old elms flanked the long drive to the manor house. The grounds at Ravenhall were meticulously manicured, with gentle, grassy slopes and several small ponds, tranquil oases amidst urban surroundings.
They passed the stables and his equestrian training area. Smooth lawns sloped upward to a four-tiered stone terrace and a formal garden carefully cultivated and ablaze with autumn color. The massive house, with turrets and mullioned windows, stood in the shade of giant oaks.
Verdant ivy climbed across high-arched walnut doors gracing a portico supported by fluted columns. Two stone benches lined a walk of flagstone steps. Electricity had been installed, and the house boasted two enormous brass lanterns with leaded glass on either side of the entrance.
Most moneyed men kept townhouses or apartments in the city and retreated to grand country houses in upstate New York or the Hamptons for the summer. Jared’s home rested on a ten-acre plot of lush greenery and rolling hills just a short ride from New York City.
The estate had all the allure and beauty of a countryside manor. An English lord secretly enamored of silent screen actress Clara Bow had once bought the estate to be near her. An ornate black wrought iron fence that enclosed the estate had the initials CB intricately woven into the design.
Jared had purchased the estate when the newly impoverished lord, having gambled away most of his family’s fortune, was ready to sell it for a fraction of its value, a case of being in the right place at the right time.
In five years’ time, Jared managed to pay off the mortgage with dividends from various investments. Unabashedly proud of his home, he had vowed to create a place of solitude and security that could never be taken from him.
After leaving Angel Guardian Orphanage, he had worked at a feverish pitch. Always big for his age, he’d done a man’s job while still a boy, living on near-to-nothing and investing every cent. He went where the wages were high, as was the physical risk. Life had been brutal then, but he’d been lucky, and he had an uncanny ability for choosing the right people to work for him.
Then the war came. While that took two years of his life, it gave him the resources he needed to obtain government contracts for several of his enterprises. With hard work and a bit of luck, he managed to grow financially, doubling and then tripling his net worth in a short time. He diversified, investing money in lucrative but risky real estate deals in southern Florida. Instead of mortgaging, he still lived simply and paid cash for almost everything, creating a very solvent fortune. When he finally arrived financially, he was thirty-two, hardened, and alone.
Yes, he had a house, a grand house, but he had hoped when he bought and furnished Ravenhall he would finally belong somewhere. At long last, he would be content, perhaps even happy. Instinctively he knew that simply to marry and have children would not be the answer. The disturbing hollowness of his life refused to be assuaged by work and a continually changing environment. He knew the hole needed to be filled by the real things in life, but somehow those things always seemed just out of his reach.
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like, after a lifetime of never belonging anywhere to anyone, to have a family of his own. How would it feel after years of unfulfilling sexual encounters to lie each night next to the same woman, to have a mother for his children, to grow old together?
He had never been a part of anything bigger than himself. He had never felt attached, though over the years many an eager female had tried to attach herself to him. A long time ago he had decided he wasn’t meant to have these things. He wondered why he still let the thoughts fester in his mind.
When the locomobile came to a halt at the front entrance of the limestone mansion, Jared gently touched Grace’s hand to wake her.
She woke startled and momentarily confused, but once she took in her surroundings, she smiled up at him and remarked breathlessly, “You have a beautiful home, Jared,” in a way that was oddly satisfying.
A sweet aroma, carried by a soft breeze, wafted across the pond visible at the rear of the property. Jared would show Grace the extensive gardens later. He knew she would appreciate the intricate topiaries and climbing vintage rose trellises, details he had overseen with avid attention.
Looking up at the stone façade, Jared realized that in the five years he had owned Ravenhall he’d never entertained. He wondered why he had so easily made the decision to bring Grace here.
Jared helped the women from the vehicle as the heavy front doors to the mansion swung open and a manservant hurried to help with the luggage. They were ushered into the foyer, where a priceless Aubusson rug covered the oak floor and glowed in the soft lighting. A magnificent Venetian glass chandelier hung above the room and illuminated a second floor graced by a beautifully curved banister. The ceiling was beamed, rough-hewn, and the walls covered with a deep green-and-rose fleur-de-lis fabric. The home held exquisite pieces of furniture and art. Jared hoped Ravenhall looked as if it had evolved over several decades to a comfortable abode.
“Please show my guests to their chambers, Donagon.” Jared addressed a stout, handsome man.
The powerfully built older man easily lifted the luggage Mr. Cobb had removed from the limousine, carrying two bags and tucking another under each arm. The years that had added a sprinkling of gray to his dark thick hair hadn’t diminished his physical prowess. He set the luggage down at the base of the staircase and shot a questioning eye at his employer.
“Zia Bruna,” Jared began, delicately. “I took the liberty of arranging a first floor bedroom for you so you wouldn’t have to navigate the stairs. Mr. Cobb will take your luggage and show you to your room.”
Bruna eyed the long expanse of steps before her and begrudgingly hobbled behind Cobb, but not before giving Jared a cutting glance and mumbling something half Italian and half English that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
Jared called after her, “When you have freshened up, please join me in the library for tea before dinner.” He turned back to Grace. “An hour, then?” Jared asked.
“Yes,” Grace responded. “That sounds wonderful.” She turned to address the older man waiting at the stairs. “Thank you, Mr. Donagon.” She shot the man a dazzling smile that reddened his ears. As Grace preceded his friend and estate manager up the staircase, Jared watched them, smiling at the old bachelor’s discomfort. Donagon was never one to mince words and would certainly have an earful to say about this strange turn of events.
****
Jared strode into his bedchamber and began removing his clothing. He wanted to soak in a hot bath and close his eyes for a few moments, but he knew if he didn’t get the deed done before Donagon set upon him there would be no bath and no peace. He’d telephoned ahead to alert his staff of his arrival but had been deliberately vague. Two extra bedrooms, one upstairs, and one downstairs, were to be prepared, and a wheelchair secured. Mary would need to cook for two more people for two weeks, maybe longer.
One shoe dropped, then the other. Jared walked across the room to the bathroom, unhooking his suspenders and pulling the shirttails from his trousers. He turned the handles on a large, ornate, footed bathtub, testing the water for the right temperature while he continued to undress.
He sank into the steaming water just as the door to his chamber opened, and he heard the unmistakable heavy gait of his manservant.
He hadn’t offered to help Donagon with the luggage as he usually did because the man would have been embarrassed in front of the women. Donagon prided himself on his strength. Besides, a man who had once loaded heavy carts of coal for a living could certainly handle three or four bags.
Donagon had befriended him in the mines of West Virginia, where he’d traveled after Illinois. After Jared made his fortune, he sought the miner out and offered him a comfortable life away from the debilitating effects of the coal dust that had begun to invade his lungs. Donagon knew he owed Jared his life and served him well and loyally, a requirement for anyone Jared allowed close.
The door to the bath opened and Donagon stepped in, absently reaching down to scoop up the pile of discarded clothing from the floor.
“And who might she be?” he asked in the heavy brogue of County Cork, with the ease of a man who had once worked side by side with his employer. He began to fold the clothes.
Jared sighed wearily, closed his eyes, and sank back into the tub, willing the warm water to take the tension from his body. “A neighbor in Chicago.”
“Hardly. Tell it to a sailor on horseback.”
Jared reluctantly opened one eye and squinted in irritation. Donagon’s unique accent tangled with West Virginia colloquialisms.
“She’s in trouble, and I’m helping her out. The older woman is her aunt.”
“What kinda trouble?” Donagon prodded, determined to get the whole story.
Jared slid low into the tub, the water circling his neck, and closed his eyes. He might as well get it over with. Donagon would just probe and question until he was satisfied anyway. He began the tale, not leaving out any details.
“Sweet Jesus!” Donagon rubbed the back of his neck with one large hand. “Now that’s a fine meddle, it is.” He held out a thick towel to Jared, who stepped out of the water and onto the bathmat Donagon had provided.
“And what would you be doin’ for ’er?”
“I don’t know yet. Sallie is working on it. In the meantime, she’s safe here.”
“Is she, now?”
Jared glanced over his shoulder at his friend. “Mind your own business, Donagon,” he said understanding the meaning behind the question. What he didn’t understand was how the old miner had so quickly assessed his intentions.
“Anyone with two eyes and half a brain kin see what’s happened ’ere.”
“And I’m sure you’re going to tell me what that would be.”
“She’s caught your eye, she has, and you’re besotted with ’er.”
“I am not,” Jared answered with a snappish tone. “I just want to see her through this affair. That’s all.”
“So how’s come you can’t keep yer bloody eyes off ’er?”