Читать книгу The Marriage Agreement - Renee Ryan - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Jonathon stood near the door, feet spread, hands clasped behind his back. He’d held the position for some time now, waiting for his half brother to stop pacing and state his business.

At seven years his senior, and their father’s sole legitimate heir, Josh had been given all the advantages of a privileged birthright, including an education from the finest schools in the country. Yet the man had nothing to show for his life, other than a string of gambling debts and a miserable marriage.

Always the outward picture of propriety, Josh wore one of his hand-tailored suits. The tall, leanly muscled build, the dark, windswept hair and classically handsome features fooled many.

But Jonathon knew the truth. The outer trappings did not match the inner man.

Like recognizes like, he thought, a harsh reminder of the things he’d done to drag himself out of poverty. Though his choices had been about survival, at least at first, he would still have much to answer for when he faced the Lord. Sobering thought.

His brother finally paused, turned and studied him intently. Jonathon matched the rude regard with unflinching patience, a strategy he often adopted to ferret out a business opponent’s underlying agenda.

Far stronger men than his brother had buckled under the calculated silence. Josh proved no more immune to the tactic than others before him.

“I need money,” he blurted out.

With slow, deliberate movements, Jonathon unclasped his hands and balanced evenly on both feet. The irony of the situation was almost laughable.

I need money. Those were the exact same words Jonathon had uttered to his father twenty years ago in a final, desperate attempt to save his dying mother’s life.

Resentment flared.

Jonathon struggled to contain the emotion, reminding himself he was no longer that helpless boy facing an uncertain future. He had power and wealth now.

He answered to no one but God.

“How much did you lose at the faro tables this time?”

Josh’s mouth went flat. “I don’t need the money for a gambling debt, I need it for—”

He broke off midsentence. His gaze darted around the room, landing nowhere in particular. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Not wanting to extend this conversation longer than necessary, Jonathon frowned at the request.

Without waiting for a response, Josh sat.

After settling in one of the wingback chairs facing away from the door, he rubbed an unsteady hand across his face. “Lily is with child.”

Every muscle in Jonathon’s back coiled and tightened. “Your wife’s name is Amanda.”

The other man sighed heavily. “Lily is my mistress.”

Jonathon went very still. The son had followed in the father’s footsteps. Inevitable, he supposed.

And he walked in all the sins of his father, which he had done before him...

Throat tight, Jonathon tried to empty his mind, but a distant memory shimmered to life. His mother, sitting in a tattered dress falling apart at the seams, tears running down her cheeks as she anxiously waited for the tall, distinguished man to return as he’d promised.

Even in her darkest days, when money had been scarce and she’d been forced to turn to prostitution to feed them both, Amelia Hawkins had continued hoping her lover would finally leave his wife.

That day had never come.

Jonathon had been too young back then, barely five, to remember much about the man whose visits had stopped so abruptly and left his mother in permanent despair. Only later, when he’d been sixteen, had he discovered that the venerable Judge Joshua Greene had been his mother’s paramour. And Jonathon’s father.

Josh’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I need money to set Lily up in a small house of her own. I’ll repay you, of course, when I’m able.”

A spurt of anger ignited in Jonathon’s chest. He moved to a spot behind his desk. Rather than sit, he remained standing, mostly to prove to himself he was still in control of his emotions. “Why come to me? Why not go to your father?”

Josh shook his head. “I can’t. He warned me Lily would try to trap me with a child.”

Trap him with a child? Jonathon had the presence of mind to pull out his chair before his legs collapsed beneath him. As if in a dream, he was transported back in time, to the terrifying nights he’d been banished to the alleyway behind the brothel.

Blinking rapidly, he heard his brother speaking, explaining his desire to keep his secret from his family. A part of Jonathon listened, taking it all in. The other part was unable to forget that he and this man shared the same blood. They came from the same, contemptible father.

He surfaced at the word mistake. “What did you say?”

“Father will never forgive me for making the same mistake he did.”

Mistake. Jonathon had been Joshua Greene’s greatest mistake. That’s what the good, upstanding judge had told him on their first meeting.

“I’m not like Father. I won’t turn my back on Lily. I won’t let her fall into...” Josh glanced down. “You know.”

“Do I?”

His brother’s head snapped back up. “I should have known you wouldn’t make this easy for me.”

“And yet you came to me, anyway.”

“All right, I’ll say it.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to dislodge a heavy weight. “I don’t want Lily to become a prostitute like...like your...mother.”

Jonathon barely contained his rage. “And you think that makes you a good man?”

“It makes me better than our father.”

Jonathon cleared his expression of all emotion. Inside, he burned. He briefly glanced at the small picture on his desk of his mother as a young woman. He knew a moment of pain, and the hollow feeling of remembered sorrow he’d tucked inside a dark corner of his soul.

Amelia Hawkins hadn’t turned to prostitution lightly. She’d held out as long as she could, but had finally admitted defeat and taken a position in Mattie Silks’s brothel. Jonathon had been seven at the time. The infamous madam had only agreed to take him in, as well, with the understanding that the customers must never find out about his existence.

Whenever his mother “entertained” he’d been locked outside, no matter the weather, left to run the streets. Out of necessity, he’d learned to take care of himself. He’d become a master at picking pockets and winning fights.

He would have continued down a similar path the rest of his life had it not been for Laney O’Connor, now Laney Dupree. She’d offered Jonathon a home at Charity House. She’d built the orphanage for kids like him, kids who weren’t really orphans, whose mothers worked in brothels.

Jonathon shuddered, thinking of the things he’d done to survive prior to Laney’s rescue, and the things he’d done after leaving Charity House to make his fortune.

Could God forgive so much sin? A preacher friend of his said yes. Like waves crashing to shore, the Lord’s forgiveness was infinite and never ending. Jonathon had his doubts. The world was rarely fair.

And now, another woman had been lied to and compromised. Left to her own resources, she could very well travel the same path as Jonathon’s mother. Joshua Greene’s despicable legacy would live on into the next generation, and possibly the next. A never ending cycle.

Was it any wonder Jonathon never wanted to marry? Never wanted to bear children?

“I’ll give you the money.”

Saying nothing more, he opened the safe nestled beneath his desk, and pulled out a bundle of neatly stacked bills. The amount was more than enough to purchase a small, comfortable home for Josh’s mistress and her innocent, unborn child.

Once the money was in his brother’s hands, Jonathon rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a hotel to run.”

“Of course.”

In silence, he escorted his brother to the exit. “I bid you good-day.”

Josh started to speak.

Jonathon shut the door on his words with a resounding click. For several moments, he stared straight ahead, his gut roiling. In the unnatural stillness, he made a silent promise to himself. No woman would suffer because of his selfish actions.

The cycle of sin that ran in his family ended with him.

* * *

With their walk-through complete, Fanny escorted Mrs. Singletary and her companion back to the main lobby of the hotel. As they entered the skinny hallway leading out of the ballroom, Philomena fell back a step. The move put her directly beside Burke Galloway. Their footsteps slowed to match one another’s, and their voices mingled in hushed tones.

Fanny wondered if the widow noticed the two were so obviously attracted to each other. She looked over at Mrs. Singletary, but the sight of Jonathon’s office distracted her.

He rarely shut his door. The fact that he’d done so today warned Fanny something wasn’t quite right. A terrible foreboding slipped through her.

Mrs. Singletary glanced at the closed door as well, a delicate frown knitting her brow. “It would appear Mr. Hawkins is still occupied with whatever concern called him away.”

“I believe you are correct.” Fanny’s heart beat faster. She fought a sudden urge to go to Jonathon, to make sure he was all right.

But that would be overstepping her bounds. She continued leading Mrs. Singletary and the others down the hallway.

Once they were in the main lobby, Mrs. Singletary dug inside her sizable reticule and pulled out a stack of papers.

She handed them to Fanny. “Since it appears Mr. Hawkins will not be available for our meeting today, I am entrusting you with my final guest list for the ball.”

Fanny scanned the top page, not really expecting any surprises. But when her gaze landed on a particular set of guests, her breath hitched in her throat. Judge and Mrs. Joshua Greene.

Joshua. Greene.

The man wasn’t welcome in the Hotel Dupree. Short of exposing Jonathon’s personal connection to the prominent judge, Fanny could say nothing to Mrs. Singletary.

She coerced air into her lungs, and adopted a breezy, nonchalant tone. “I will deliver your list to Mr. Hawkins as soon as possible. If he has any questions or concerns I’m certain he will contact you at once.”

“That will be fine.” Mrs. Singletary’s gaze narrowed over her companion conversing softly with Mr. Galloway.

The widow sniffed in mild disapproval. Philomena didn’t appear to notice her employer’s reaction. She was entirely too absorbed in whatever Burke had pointed out to her in the lobby.

“Mr. Galloway, do come here.” The widow spoke in a fast, impatient tone. “And you, as well, Philomena.”

The two walked over as a single unit and faced Mrs. Singletary shoulder to shoulder.

Philomena spoke for them both. “Yes, Mrs. Singletary?”

The widow’s gaze bounced between the two, a look of vexation in her eyes. “Mr. Galloway, would you please see that my carriage and driver are waiting for me out front?”

He gave her a pleasant smile. “I would be delighted.”

“Yes, yes, off you go.” She sent him away with a distracted flick of her wrist.

Philomena gazed after him with a wistful expression.

Mrs. Singletary studied the young woman closely, then pressed her lips into a tight, determined line. Fanny feared the widow still planned to push a match between Jonathon and Philomena.

“Hopeless,” Fanny muttered under her breath.

“Did you say something, my dear?”

“No, Mrs. Singletary.” Fanny lifted her chin. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“Not a thing. Your commitment to detail is much appreciated, Miss Mitchell. I predict this year’s ball will be spoken about long after the evening comes to a close.”

“That is the plan.”

“Yes, yes.” The widow patted her hand. “I wish to raise quite a sizable amount of money for the new kitchen at Charity House.”

Excitement spread through Fanny. “It’s a worthy cause.”

“Oh, indeed, it is.”

They shared a smile. Fanny volunteered much of her free time at Charity House. She was even contemplating starting a program at the hotel to provide work experience for the older children. She wished she could do more. The orphanage had molded some of her favorite people into men and women of strong, moral character.

The widow continued speaking. “I understand the majority of your family will be in attendance at my ball.”

Fanny’s smile widened. It had been years since so many Mitchells were in one place at the same time. “I’ve reserved rooms for them here in the hotel. My parents will be staying in the bridal suite.”

A gift from Jonathon. The dear, dear man.

Mrs. Singletary’s expression turned somber and she reached out to touch Fanny’s arm. “How is your mother managing these days?”

“Her asthma is much better.” Or so her father had claimed the last time he’d come to town. The worry in his eyes had told a different story.

Her mother, always so full of life and energy, had contracted asthma recently, a chronic disease that usually showed up in childhood, but was not uncommon to reveal itself later in life. Although the doctor said Mary Mitchell’s illness was manageable, Fanny still feared the worst.

Asthma was incurable. People had been known to die from a severe attack. Her mother suffered bouts regularly. Though hers were usually moderate in nature, stress brought on more severe symptoms. Fanny prayed the party didn’t cause her any additional strain.

“I look forward to catching up with her while she’s in town,” Mrs. Singletary said. “Your mother has always been one of my very special friends.”

“And you, hers.”

“Walk us out, Miss Mitchell.”

“Of course.” Fanny led Mrs. Singletary and Philomena to the front steps of the hotel, then bade them farewell. Back in the lobby, she fingered the guest list. This needs addressing immediately. She cast a surreptitious glance toward Jonathon’s office.

The door swung open and out walked the man himself.

Never one to put off an unpleasant situation, Fanny hurried over to meet him. Something in the way he held his shoulders caused her unspeakable concern.

Judge Greene forgotten, she touched her employer’s arm. It was barely a whisper of fingertips to sleeve, yet had the intended effect. Jonathon slowly looked down at her.

The moment their gazes merged, Fanny’s breath backed up in her throat. His face was like a stone, but his eyes were hot with anguish.

She tightened her grip. “What’s happened? Is something wrong with the hotel?”

“No, it’s my...” His words trailed off and his gaze fastened on a spot somewhere far off in the distance.

Her hand fell away from his arm. However, her resolve to ease his distress remained firmly in place. “Perhaps you would care to take a short walk with me?”

She spoke in a mild tone, the way she would when making the same suggestion any other time. They often took walks together, mostly when Jonathon required her opinion about some issue in one of his hotels.

“A light snowfall has begun,” she added, knowing it was his favorite time to be outdoors.

Hers, as well. There was nothing more wonderful than those precious moments when the world fell quiet beneath a blanket of fluffy white flakes.

Jonathon remained silent, his gaze unblinking.

“Come with me.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the exit.

For several steps he obliged her. Just when she thought she had him agreeable to the idea of a brief stroll, he drew his hand free.

“Not right now, Fanny.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly, not at all the smooth baritone she was used to hearing from him. “I have another matter that requires my immediate attention.”

His deliberate vagueness put a wedge between them. She bit back a sigh. “I understand.”

In truth, she understood far too well. He’d shut her out. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. Nevertheless, it stung to realize he didn’t trust her, at least not enough to share what had put him in such a dark mood.

Without a word of explanation, he turned to go, then just as quickly pivoted back around to face her. “I’m not certain how long I’ll be gone. I need you to see to any issues that may arise in my absence.”

“You can count on me.”

She didn’t attempt to pry for additional information. He would reveal whatever was on his mind when he was ready. Or he wouldn’t. It was a reminder of how little he trusted her concerning his life outside the hotel.

He’s not for you.

But there was someone out there who was; she sensed it as surely as she knew her own name. She simply had to trust the Lord would lead her to her one true love in His time. Patience, faith—those were her greatest tools.

“I’ll be here when you return,” she said when Jonathon made no move to leave.

He reached up and touched her cheek. The gesture was brief, yet so full of tenderness she thought she might cry. Did the man realize how good he was beneath that polished, unflappable exterior he presented to the world?

He would make a wonderful husband, and an exceptional father, if only he would allow someone—anyone—to squeeze through the cracks and into his heart. She wanted that for him, desperately.

“I count on you always being here when I return, Fanny.” His expression softened. “More than you can possibly know.”

With relief, she heard the message beneath his words. Jonathon relied on her above all others.

The thought should have made her happy, but instead produced a small stab of pain in the vicinity of her heart. The sensation felt a lot like loss.