Come Be My Love Page 10

  Sarah stared at the untidy heap of undergarments, then at Mandi's curious expression. Giving her a bland smile, she said, "I'm just overwrought about... how poorly things are going right now, the problem with the business license and all."

  Mandi lifted the camisoles out of the trunk and began folding them into a neat pile. "What happens if you don't get the license?" she asked, repacking the garments.

  Sarah's shoulders drooped in a weary slump. "I don't know. But since I can't lease a building without it, I'll have to figure out a way to get around it. Meanwhile, if I could rent some space from one of the merchants where I could display my handbills and some of my garments, I could at least introduce the shirtwaisters and bloomer costumes to the ladies here. But, thanks to Jon and his esteemed cabinet, no one will rent to me!"

  "Wellington Brown might let you put some things in his store—"

  Mandi's words were cut short when Ida appeared in the doorway, and said, "Miss Ashley? There are two gentlemen here to see you. They are waiting in the parlor."

  "Who are they?" Sarah asked.

  "They said they are old friends," Ida replied.

  Sarah looked at Mandi, bewildered. "I can't imagine who they could be since no one knows I'm here. Meanwhile, keep packing and I'll go see." Sarah started down the hallway, but at the landing she paused to listen. Hearing no voices, she descended the stairs. But when she stepped into the parlor, her stomach lurched and her heart began to pound erratically.

  "Well, well now, Ty. If it isn't our little sister," the older of the men said.

  Sarah stood, back stiff, chin raised, eyes riveted on her half-brother. "Hello, Hollis," she said, struggling to keep her voice devoid of emotion. She saw that even here among ragged prospectors, Hollis had painstakingly anointed his brows with salve and combed them into place, his bristly side whiskers were freshly trimmed, and his dark hair was dressed with Macassar oil. She looked past Hollis to Tyler, a younger version of Hollis, who maintained a bored and studious calm. One side of Tyler's mouth quirked upward in aloof recognition, then he turned away, appearing to peruse the books in the bookcase behind him. Sarah wouldn't expect Tyler to say much, if anything. He was merely a craven hanger-on to his brother. Hollis was the instigator of whatever they were up to. She turned her gaze on him.

  Hollis strolled across the carpet, while trailing a finger along the carved rosewood back of an armchair and over the smooth marble surface of a library table. He paused to contemplate the hand-painted globe of a table lamp. After a moment, he turned. His mouth curved in a scornful smile. "Well, little sister," he said, allowing his gaze to roam the surroundings, "it looks as though you're doing reasonably well for yourself. But then, you were never one to lack for material comforts, were you? Your mother always saw to that."

  Sarah noted the hard line of Hollis's mouth and the venom in his steel-gray eyes. "How did you find me?" she asked.

  The lines slanting from the sides of his nostrils and around the corners of his mouth lifted in an ironic smile. "Even the most trustworthy servants talk when confronted with certain consequences. And once we were here, it wasn't too difficult to find you. I showed this—" he flashed a daguerreotype "—around town. Almost every man in town seems to know you. But it did take several stops to learn that you were living with the governor. Of course, I'm not surprised that you've taken up with a man, considering your past behavior."

  The brusque remark succeeded in raising Sarah's ire, as it was meant to. But she refused to humiliate herself by acknowledging it. She intended to confront Hollis with as much pride and dignity as possible. Fixing her chilliest gaze on him, she said. "Why don't you get to the point. What exactly do you want?"

  "Only to wish you well. I must hand it to you. You've managed to hold out for a very—" he swept his hand in a grand circle "—opulent lifestyle. None of your suitors in San Francisco held such high estate, nor did any own a town coach with four blacks."

  "You know you didn't come all the way to Victoria to wish me well, so get to the point.”

  Hollis shrugged. "The point is, since you're the governor's mistress—"

  "I am not the governor's mistress," Sarah cut in. "I'm here as the governor's sister's guest." She couldn't discern whether Hollis made up the aspersion that she was Jon's mistress or if he'd heard it in town. Harriet Galbraith could have intimated such a notion.

  Hollis cocked a glossy brow. "You expect us to believe you're living in the governor's home as his guest, without consideration... of any kind?"

  "I don't expect you to believe anything," Sarah said. "You and Tyler have no scruples. Therefore, it makes no difference what you believe, since what you say to others bears no relation whatsoever to what you know to be the truth."

  Hollis's lips curved in a cunning smile. "Don't you think it's a bit ironic for you to talk about scruples? After all, anyone who would bed a married man is certainly lacking scruples by any standards."

  Sarah's eyes blazed on hearing Hollis reiterate the base lies he and Tyler had broadcast all over San Francisco. "Get out," she said in a tight voice. "Both of you get out."

  Hollis gave her a cold, hard look. "I'm not finished with you yet. I warned you what would happen if you refused to turn over the money. You could have married any one of several suitors, and by now be living comfortably. But Tyler and I were not so fortunate. We needed the money to save the business. And now, because of you, we have nothing."

  "You know that's an outright lie," Sarah said. "Any money that ever fell into your hands was gambled away."

  "I admit, we do enjoy faro," Hollis said. "But then, most gentlemen indulge in gaming. It's to be expected."

  "Then losing is also to be expected." Sarah looked from Hollis to Tyler and back. "Why don't you for once in your lives take responsibility for your own actions?"

  "Oh, how noble we are," Hollis said. "But the fact is, we are taking responsibility. We're here to claim what's ours. So if you don't want to face ugly litigation and have a lot of filthy laundry aired, I suggest you make out a bank draft for, say, half the money, since I'm in a generous mood, and we'll be on our way."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "It would be a shame for your sordid past to follow you here, particularly since you seem to be so comfortably cared for by the governor."

  "If I am his mistress, as you claim," Sarah said, hoping he wouldn't detect the shakiness in her voice, "then my reputation could hardly be sullied now. So you might as well leave. I have no intention of giving you anything."

  Hollis folded his arms. "I suggest you give this matter further thought. Like I said, I doubt if the good people of Victoria would look favorably upon an unmarried woman who got herself with child then stooped to ridding herself of it, which is exactly what they will learn if you don’t do as we request."

  Knotting her fists at her sides in an effort to keep from thrashing Hollis, Sarah said, "I refuse to stoop so low as to defend myself against the base lies you have perpetrated. I would say that you are demented, but I know otherwise. You were always cunning and devious, but somewhere along the way you took a different path and became less than human."

  Afraid that the stinging in her eyes would emerge as tears, Sarah turned, and when she did, every muscle in her body went slack. Jon stood in the doorway, his eyes smoldering. She had no idea how long he'd been there, but from the look on his face, she knew he had not just arrived.

  He stalked across the room in four long strides and stood beside her, and said to her, "Would you introduce me to your guests?" When he rested his hand on the base of her neck, Sarah's heart felt as if it were about to leap from her chest. The nearness of him seemed solid, reassuring. Yet she had to swallow before words could come. "These are my stepbrothers, Hollis and Tyler."

  Hollis extended his hand, but retracted it when Jon made no move to take it. "My brother and I have business with our sister," Hollis said. "So we will just step outside and continue."

  "There's no need," Jon replied, his eyes unwaveri
ng. "Unless, of course, Miss Ashley chooses to." His mouth curved in a wry smile. "My home is her home."

  Sarah saw triumph in Hollis's steely gaze and watched the sullen resentment drain from his face. "Well then," he said, "since she's established here with you, you'll understand when we demand that she relinquish the money she holds, money that is rightfully ours."

  Sarah's eyes blazed. "That money is from a fund left to me and me alone, by my mother, and you know it. You have absolutely no claim to it."

  Hollis gave a kind of grudging laugh and looked at Jon. "What she says isn't exactly correct, Governor. She neglected to mention that she managed to liquidate a fund that was in litigation, after which time she left San Francisco, quite hastily. But then, that's a common course when absconding with another's money, isn't it?"

  "That's a strong accusation," Jon said in a lethal tone. "Are you prepared to back it up?"

  "We have no legal papers with us, if that's what you mean," Hollis replied.

  "Then I suggest you and your brother move on," Jon said.

  "We can't," Hollis replied. "We don't have enough money to return to San Francisco."

  "You're gamblers," Jon said. "Go north to the goldfields. Gamble your last dollar on the chance that there might be a fortune waiting for you there. If not, you'd better find a way to go back to where you came from because if you stay here you might find it eminently unsafe. You see, Victoria has a policy concerning the presence of rats in sinkholes. We shoot them."

  A muscle twitched in Hollis's jaw. "Is that a threat, Governor?"

  Jon dropped his hand from Sarah's neck and faced Hollis squarely. "You bloody well better believe it is. And there's not a soul around here who'd give a damn if a couple of paltry bastards like you disappeared."

  "You seem to be confused, Governor," Hollis said. "Sarah's the only bastard in the family. Didn't she tell you about her ignoble birth?" He eyed Sarah with disdain. "No, I don't imagine she'd mention her mother's broomstick marriage to our father, would you, Sarah?"

  Before she could respond, Jon's fist cracked against Hollis's jaw with swift and deadly aim, sending Hollis sprawling backward. As Hollis started to pull himself up, Jon grabbed him by the lapels, jerking him to his feet. "You goddamned bloody bastard. There are two ships sailing out of here tomorrow, the Revelation to the goldfields and the Eliza Anderson to New Westminster. You be on one of them." He released his hold, sending Hollis stumbling backward toward the front door. "Now, you and your brother get out of my house!"

  Hollis rubbed his jaw and dabbed his handkerchief at the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He shifted disdainful eyes from Jon and fixed them on Sarah. "Just keep in mind that you won't always be able to hide behind the coattails of your paramours. When you're tossed into the streets we'll find you, and we'll get what's ours." He shoved his handkerchief into his pocket and swept through the door, Tyler on his heels.

  After the door closed behind them, Sarah went to the window and parted the curtains. "They won't leave," she said in a weary voice. "You may have stopped Hollis for now, but he won't go until he gets what he came for."

  Jon peered over her shoulder and watched the men climb into a plain black buggy that he recognized as one of the cheaper vehicles for hire from Parker's Livery. At least some of what he'd heard was true. The men were gamblers. He'd noted the crisp sheen of their frock coats, and the ornate gold stickpins securing their silk cravats, and the embroidery of their waistcoats. The men had obviously known wealth and lost it, and were holding on to a facade of affluence. He also knew that the rest were lies. Sarah's response to him when he'd taken her by surprise at the spring was not the demeanor of an experienced woman, but of one who still had much to learn.

  "How much did you hear?" Sarah asked, continuing to look out the window.

  Jon caught the shakiness in her voice, but suspected it was more from humiliation than anxiety. "Enough to hope your brother will have a sore jaw for a long time to come."

  Sarah kept her back to him. "I suppose you believe everything they said."

  Jon couldn't dismiss the incongruous feeling of pleasure that settled over him on realizing that it mattered to Sarah what he thought. The odd thing was, he almost wished she had done the things she'd been accused of doing, because then he might be able to banish her from his mind. "Do you care what I believe?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "I care what the people of Victoria believe since I hope to solicit their business."

  "You didn't answer my question." Jon turned her around so she faced him squarely, and said, "I asked if you care what I believe."

  Sarah looked at him soberly. "I suppose. So... do you believe what Hollis said?"

  "Had it been the day of your arrival, I might have believed at least part of it," Jon replied. "You wouldn't have been the first raspberry tart to arrive in Victoria. But now I know different. So, to answer your question, no, I don't believe a word of what your brother said. What I don't understand is why they'd fabricate such vicious lies about you."

  Sarah shrugged. "Because I wouldn't turn my money over to them, and they’re angry."

  "Why do they feel they have claim to the money?"

  "It's money my mother put aside for me from earnings from the business. They feel it rightfully belonged to their father—my stepfather—and therefore to them, since they were the heirs. My mother saved up the money because she knew my stepfather had not included me in his will. When I turned twenty-one, she put the money in a secret account in my name, then told me about it just before she died. Hollis heard her tell me about the money and started litigation, but before they could start proceedings, I liquidated the account and came here."

  "And your relatives in the East?" Jon asked, his gaze taking in the cheerless set to her lips. "Do they endorse this venture of yours?"

  "They don't know about it," Sarah replied.

  Catching a hint of ruthlessness in her tone, Jon said, "Is there a particular reason why?"

  A trace of derision crept into Sarah's voice, as she replied, "I have no contact with them."

  "Why not?" Jon asked, holding her gaze.

  "It's a long story," Sarah replied. "You'd be quite bored with it." She turned to go.

  Jon caught her arm. "Nothing about you has bored me so far," he said. "I want to know."

  Sarah stared at him for a few moments, then said, "They want nothing to do with me."

  "Let me guess," Jon said, a smile tugging at his lips. "They're a bunch of straitlaced prudes and you insist on parading around in those bloody bloomer costumes."

  Chin raised, eyes unblinking, Sarah replied in a flat voice, "No. Because I'm a love child. You see, some of what Hollis said was true. My real father was a captain in the British navy and he never married my mother. When the family learned about it, they made it clear that I was not to come east and pollute their good name. I'm really quite the blueblood, don't you agree?"

  Jon ignored her cynical remark. "What happened to your real father?"

  "It's not important."

  "I think it is. He caused you a lot of pain, and I want to know why." Jon saw her chin quiver slightly and her eyes brighten with unshed tears.

  "He called my mother a whore, denied being the father of her unborn child, and sailed off. My mother's family shunned her, so they would certainly not welcome me stepping forward after all these years and reminding them that I still exist. So what do you think of my aristocratic heritage now?"

  The bitterness of her words and the undisguised pain in her eyes sent blood pulsing through Jon's temples with a low steady throb. At last he understood why she'd turned from men and marriage. The disarmed, vulnerable woman beneath the dauntless facade had been betrayed by all the men in her life who’d mattered to her. "I think your father was a spineless fool."

  Sarah gave a short laugh. "I suppose I agree with you. But then, he wouldn't want to claim as his, the child of a soiled woman who had been tossed aside by her own family."

  "That's a blamed
piece of humbug," Jon said. "Besides, look what came of it: a beautiful, courageous, exasperatingly charming woman," he said, his thumb tracing the hard line of her mouth, attempting to coax a smile.

  Sarah's lips softened and she looked up at him with wide, probing eyes. "What I told you doesn't seem to bother you."

  Jon slipped his arms around her and clasped his hands behind her waist. "It doesn't. If your mother had not fallen in love with your father—spineless fool that he was—you would not be here in my arms." His eyes meandered across her face and paused at length on her lips. "And if you were not in my arms, I would not be able do this--" his mouth covered hers in a slow, deep kiss. Sarah closed her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  But when he drew her closer, abruptly she broke the kiss and her eyes popped open. Pressing against his chest, she said in a breathless voice, "I don't know what got into me but I have to go now because I've got to finish packing since we're moving first thing in the morning."

  Jon looked at her, concerned. "You can't go," he said. "The road's a quagmire. You'll need to stay at least another few days... until the road dries some."

  "That's out of the question. Mud or no mud, I will be leaving tomorrow."

  "But there's no reason," Jon insisted. "Besides, I very much want you to stay."

  Sarah ducked out of his arms, and said, cryptically, "You won't for much longer," then turned and left the room in a haste.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The following morning, to Sarah's dismay, she awakened to a low, protracted rumble in the sky and rain pelting against the window. It had drizzled throughout the night, and now she feared the road would truly be the quagmire Jon predicted. But somehow, she'd get the wagon through and be settled in the cottage by late afternoon.

  Immediately after Jon left on his horse for the legislature building, she instructed his stablemen to carry her trunks and other belongings down to the porch in preparation for loading them into the wagon she’d leased, and which should be arriving within the hour, but since neither Pederson nor Tooley would be available to drive it until late afternoon, she decided she'd drive it herself. She felt confident in her driving skills. Certainly a flat, muddy road would present no more of a challenge than the hilly cobblestone streets of San Francisco.