A Scarlet Bride (40 page)

"What?'' Connor had returned the money? Why would he refuse the funds when obviously he had achieved his goal of getting her with child?

"He returned the bank draft to your father," Aunt Clara confirmed, then laughed.
"Surprised the old bastard."

The carriage hit a rut in the road, and Alexandra held on to the seat for support. Did he return the money because he really loved her, just as he said?

No. It seemed impossible! It must be some kind of new game he was playing.

"The man is a puzzle. Why would he return the money?" she asked, speaking her thoughts aloud.

"Connor told James he would not accept money for getting you with child."

Alexandra shrugged, yet her heart beat faster. "That still doesn't make up for the agreement he made with my father."

Aunt Clara stared out the window as they entered town. "Perhaps not, but it's a start."

Raising her brows, Alexandra said, "You're much too forgiving, Aunt Clara."

The older woman shrugged. "I'm curious about why he agreed to this deal with your father. What did he need the money for? And why did he suddenly return it, unless he thought to win you back?"

Alexandra clenched her fists together in her lap. "He came by yesterday and professed that he loves me and realizes that he mistreated me. He said I'd made him into a family man."

Aunt Clara leaned forward in her seat. "He did?"

She stared at Alexandra intently. "And how did you respond?"

Shifting uncomfortably on the seat, Alexandra said, "I was so stunned, I just stared at him in amazement. I don't know whether I believe him or not. After everything he's done, it's hard to know when he's telling the truth or if this is just his latest scheme."

"My God, Alexandra, this is a man who has caused husbands and fathers to hover over their women when he entered a room. For him to admit you had changed him into a family man is quite a feat."

"But what if it's all a lie?"

"Dear, I can understand your hesitation. The man has certainly not been a model husband, but as far as we know he hasn't been unfaithful, and he didn't spend your father's money."

"I am shocked he returned the check. And no, he hasn't been unfaithful that I know of. He's not been a saint, but he's not abused or mistreated me either."

"I think you owe it to yourself and the child you're carrying to give him a second chance. What have you got to fear?"

Alexandra glanced out the window. She wanted badly to do as her aunt suggested, but apprehension held her back. She was so uncertain, yet she knew she loved him.

"What have you to lose?" her aunt asked.

"Everything."
Especially her heart.

The carriage pulled to a stop. Alexandra glanced out to see they had stopped in front of the courthouse.

"Somehow it will all work out." Her aunt reached over and patted her on the arm. "We're here. Mr. Wharton's office is on the second floor."

Alexandra alighted and then turned to help her aunt. They walked up the steps and entered the marbled foyer. Men dressed in starched white shirts and tailored suits stood talking or hurried through the halls.

Suddenly Mrs.
Jorgansen
was standing in front of them.

"Good morning, ladies." She turned to Aunt Clara. "I was sorry to hear about Mr.
LaRoux
."

"Thank you. We were just on our way up to
see
the lawyer about the will."

"I won't detain you but for just a moment. I wanted to tell Alexandra congratulations on your news about the baby."

Alexandra flushed, still having trouble believing it herself. "Thank you."

"When you get closer to your time, I'd like to give you a shower."

For a moment Alexandra was stunned. The biggest socialite in town was offering to give her baby a shower? She felt as if her mouth was hanging open.

"Thank you, I'd like that very much," she finally mumbled.

"Good. We'll talk more about it later. If you're not busy next week, we're meeting for tea at my house at two o'clock on Thursday. Why don't the two of you come?"

"Thank you. We'll try to be there," Aunt Clara replied.

"Well, I won't keep you from your appointment any longer. See you next week."

With a swish Mrs.
Jorgansen
moved away, leaving Alexandra reeling.
Maddie
Jorgansen
was going to give her baby a shower. And had invited her to tea in the same day?

"Aunt Clara, what does this mean?"

The older woman laughed. "I think, dear, your days of being excluded are over."

They looked at each other and smiled and then walked briskly up the stairs to the second floor, their shoes clicking on the marble steps. The smell of justice and money brought back memories of rare visits to her father's bank, memories that were better left tucked away.

Opening the wooden door to Mr. Wharton's office, they were greeted by a short, bespectacled clerk.

"Mrs.
LaRoux
and Mrs. Manning.
I'll let Mr. Wharton know you're here," the gentleman said.

In a matter of moments, they were ushered into an opulent office, decorated with oak paneling and stacked bookcases directly behind a large matching desk where Mr. Wharton sat.

A tall man, his coat barely covering his protruding stomach, stood and greeted them. "Ladies, I'm terribly sorry that this sad event has brought you to my office. Please be seated and we'll get this business finished so you may be on your way."

They took a seat across from the
grayhaired
, stern looking lawyer. He put on a pair of spectacles and picked up crisp yellowed papers.

He peered over his glasses at Alexandra. "I asked your aunt to bring you so that I could tell you about your part in your uncle's will. I've already covered the rest with Mrs.
LaRoux
."

Alexandra looked at Aunt Clara, puzzled.

He picked up the papers and began to read. "I, Sydney
LaRoux
, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath to my dearest niece, Alexandra Thurston Manning, the sum of seventy thousand dollars to live her life as she pleases."

A chill of disbelief threaded its way through Alexandra. Seventy thousand dollars was an enormous amount. It was more than enough money to live independently. She thought of Uncle Sydney and wanted to cry.

"Oh, my!" she gasped, tears choking her throat.

Her baby's financial future was secure. She would find a nice quiet town to settle in where no one knew her. She'd raise her child without anyone's intervention.

Mr. Wharton took off his glasses and twirled them in his hand. "Mrs. Manning, considering the situation with River Bend, I've made arrangements to transfer the funds immediately."

Alexandra glanced up at the lawyer, his words yanking her out of her dreamlike state.

"River Bend?
What situation?"

The man cleared his throat. "Surely, your husband has told you."

"Told me what, Mr. Wharton?" she asked, a chill running down her spine.

The lawyer took out his handkerchief and wiped his glasses nervously. Frowning, he shook his head. "River Bend is up for public auction this afternoon."

Public auction?

The news stunned her. Alexandra didn't know what to say, but that certainly was not what she'd expected to hear. She took a deep breath, nausea spiraling through her. River Bend up for sale? But Connor loved River Bend. He would never let it go.

Unless he was forced to.

"There must be some kind of mistake,'' she said, bewildered.

"No, ma'am, there's a notice posted downstairs. I would have met with you sooner, but I was out of town."

"Downstairs?"

"Yes, they post all of the auction notices downstairs."

"I don't understand. Why would he sell River Bend?"

"Taxes.
Like many of the larger homes around here, he got behind on the taxes. But your inheritance will more than pay for them."

Aunt Clara smiled. "Well, I think the mystery about why Connor needed the money from your father is solved."

Indeed it was, Alexandra thought, stunned at the implications.

***

Alexandra left Aunt Clara sitting in the buggy outside William Cunningham's office. She walked inside and found his secretary sitting behind a desk.

"May I help you?"

"I need to see Mr. Cunningham."

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Mrs. Connor Manning."

The secretary retreated to the inner office, and moments later, a stunned William stood at the door."Mrs. Manning, please come in."

She entered his office. William left the door open out of respect for her reputation, she assumed, tattered though it was.

"I must say I'm surprised to see you here," he said nervously.

"Mr. Cunningham, considering our unfortunate history, I feel you owe me a favor."

Alexandra felt gratified when a blush rose up his cheeks.

"I feel I owe you more than a favor," he said. "I owe you my most sincere apology for partaking in such a cruel game."

"Your apology is accepted. But now I must ask a favor." She took a deep breath. "There's going to be an auction this afternoon. I want you to take me."

***

Connor felt as if his insides were slowly being ripped out. Torture was the only word he could think of to describe his feelings as he watched people pick through the house and barns, inspecting his home before the bidding began.

Part of him wanted to leave, while another part of him had to stay until the bitter end. He had to know the person who bought the land that had supported his family for so many generations. He had to make sure his servants were well taken care of. After all, many of them had been with his family for years and he couldn't rest without knowing they would not be mistreated.

He ran his hands through his hair, wishing Alexandra were by his side. If only he could go back and relive the last six months, he would treat her with the utmost respect due a
woman,
love her like a real wife.

But he couldn't undo the damage of the past. And he knew his actions had cost him his wife and his only chance at a happy future.

"Mr. Manning, we're about ready to begin. Do you have all of your personal belongings out of the house?"

Connor's heart wrenched in his chest.
The spasm of pain sank all the way to his stomach.

"Yes, our belongings are packed and in a wagon outside." He took a deep breath. "My sister is upstairs in her ... bedroom. I'd like her to stay there until this is over."

The auctioneer nodded in understanding. "Well, then, let's get this over with."

Connor watched the man hurry outside to the front porch, where a crowd of men were gathering for the noon auction. He glanced around the dining room and parlor. The family pictures had been stripped from the walls, leaving the rooms with a cold, empty feeling. He looked in his office one more time.

The memory of James Halsted propositioning him to marry Alex came to mind. Connor ran his hand along his desk, remembering the night he'd realized he loved his wife. He wanted her instead of his home. Now he didn't have either, and it was no one's fault but his own.

Quickly, he shut the door, trying to block out the memories, and hurried outside.

The auctioneer was reading a long,
drawnout
legal document regarding the sale of River Bend. Connor heard the man's voice, but barely listened. Instead, he stood and gazed out at the crowd of people, feeling that he was living his worst nightmare.

A cluster of men in suits stood before him, waiting expectantly for the bidding to begin.
The selling of his home, the loss of a family dream.
And there was nothing he could do but stand and watch.

From the corner of his eye, Connor noticed a carriage speeding down the lane to River Bend. He recognized the rig as William's and wondered why his friend wasn't arriving on horseback. The vehicle halted just as the auctioneer banged his gavel to garner everyone's attention. William stepped out and then turned to help someone.

Who had he brought with him?

A dainty hand gloved in black appeared in William's. A slender shoulder, then a stylish hat, covering the mahogany curls Connor had come to love.

Alexandra.

Connor wanted to reach down and pick up his heart, as it felt as if the organ had fallen to his feet. He gasped, the sound like a slap, as he watched his wife emerge from William's carriage.

Heads turned, and there was an audible gasp. Then the crowd went completely silent as they watched a woman enter their sacred masculine ground.

What was she doing here? His heart pounded inside his chest. His palms felt clammy with sweat. Had she come to witness his humiliation in his darkest hour? Was this to be part of his punishment?