Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature (4 page)

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ou needn’t be polite,” Jo said when Blaze invited her shopping.

“Nonsense. If I wanted to be polite, I could have sent you a gift and been done with it. Come, we might as well get to know each other. Hazard is your father, after all. You’re part of the family.” Blaze took Jo’s hand, waved to those in the sitting room at the Plantation House Hotel and left Hazard to deal with Lucy’s avarice.

She’d never been part of any family, Jo reflected, following in Blaze’s wake, unless you considered her flighty mother and moody, self-centered Cosimo a substitute. Which she couldn’t unless she suspended credulity entirely.

Her mother had always been primarily concerned with her looks and her entertainments. Jo had understood early on that a daughter was a liability and more often than not, overlooked. A fact the monks at San Marco had taken note of one day when she was found wandering in the monastery gardens without her nursemaid. She’d been four at the time and Father Alessandro’s offer to tutor her free of charge had turned out to be an unaccountable blessing for which she would always be grateful.

Keeping pace with Blaze as they moved through the hotel corridor, Jo said, “You’re very gracious to include me in your family. I hardly expected such kindness.”

Blaze smiled at her. “What happened in the past has nothing to do with you or me, now, does it? We can simply enjoy each other’s company and leave all the talk of business to others.”

“I really want to apologize for my mother’s—er—presumption.”

“I’m sure your mother has the best of intentions.” Blaze’s tone was one of exquisite politesse.

You don’t know my mother, Jo wished to say.

“Although, I must confess, my husband is under orders to behave.”

Jo flushed. Had she read her mind? “I wish I could say the same of my mother,” she replied, deciding to answer with frankness of her own. “She’s rather bold on occasion.”

“I’m sure everything will work out,” Blaze said, blandly, deciding Hazard’s daughter had his gift for understatement. “In any event, we needn’t worry ourselves over anything more taxing than whether we want to go to Swanson’s Bookstore first or second. Do you like fiction or nonfiction best?”

❧

While Blaze introduced Jo to the shopping establishments of note in Helena with the aplomb and immunity to gossip that enormous wealth conferred, Hazard and Lucy faced each other across a marquetry tea table. Sheldon Whitney sat off to one side, as though understanding he was there as duenna and referee.

“I’m finding Helena most charming, Jon. Thanks to you,” Lucy purred. “I can’t believe you have grown children. You look so wonderfully virile . .The last word was the merest of whispers as she leaned forward to show off her cleavage.

Lucy had dressed for the occasion—provocatively, rather than appropriately—in a lacy pink froth of a gown more suitable to the boudoir than a morning visit. Carefully focusing his eyes well above her partially exposed bosom, Hazard expected Sheldon was enjoying the view. Personally, she wasn’t his style—nor had she ever been—but in his youth, he rarely said no to a woman.

That conduct unfortunately brought him here today.

Not that he begrudged Jo’s existence.

He begrudged Lucy’s use of their daughter to line her own pockets.

“If you didn’t need money, would I have ever seen my daughter?”

It took Lucy a moment to reply. She’d not expected such bluntness. “I didn’t think you so uncivil, Jon,” she said with a pettish toss of her head. “Our visit is purely social.”

“Ah . . . then, we won’t be needing Sheldon.” Hazard tipped his head toward his associate. “Sheldon brought the company checkbook with him.”

Lucy shot a quick glance at the man she’d barely acknowledged when they’d been introduced and silently chastised herself for being so obtuse as to not notice that lovely black leather folio he carried. “Jon, you needn’t be so crass.” She made a pouty little moue. “I’m sure our discussion needn’t be ungracious or venal. Would you like some tea? Would you, Mr. Sheldon?” she queried, offering the man with the checkbook a charming smile.

“No tea,” Hazard said, brusquely, “And Sheldon’s here to keep your price down, so you needn’t smile at him.”

“My goodness, how surly you’ve become. I don’t recall you being ill-natured at all. In fact, you were one of the most accommodating men I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet,” she murmured, sweetly.

“If you had thought to tell me about my daughter sooner, I might be more accommodating,” Hazard muttered. “Twenty-three years is a long time to wait for the news.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Lucy said, brightly, as though their presence was enough to erase all the years she’d kept him in ignorance. “Don’t tell me you’re going to hold a grudge against me because I didn’t inform you in a more timely manner. Actually, I didn’t think your wife would appreciate the information,” she added, coyly, thinking herself very clever to have devised such a good excuse. “I’m sure I wouldn’t if I were your wife.”

The thought of Lucy being his wife was terrifying enough to put everything about their visit back into perspective. And just because Lucy was as avaricious and self-centered as ever needn’t obscure the fact that he had a lovely daughter. So it was only left for him to give Lucy what she wanted and see that she departed as soon as possible. “Why don’t you tell me what you need to say, live comfortably once again,” he offered, mildly. “I’m not au courant on prices in Florence.”

His sudden volte face was disconcerting and Lucy debated how best to answer. Was he being sly? Was he trying to disarm her with politeness? How much could she reasonably ask for without jeopardizing the negotiations? “My little villa wasn’t too expensive,” she said, trying to read his expression. “Jo had her own small apartment as well,” she lied, thinking to influence him with her concern for her daughter and add to her expenses in the bargain. “The darling girl is really quite serious about her career.” She smiled, hoping she was conveying a proper maternal solicitude. “Sometimes I do wonder if I’ve been a trifle unsympathetic about her vocation.” She uttered a theatrical little sigh. “But you know how men feel about blue-stocking women; I simply feared for her future. Call me old-fashioned, but surely I’m not remiss in wishing my daughter to marry well, am I?” Lucy’s melodrama was grating; she was a very poor actress. In an effort to scotch any further thespian exertions and minimize his irritation, Hazard said, abruptly, “Would twenty thousand a year maintain you adequately?”

She could live like a queen in Florence on twenty-thousand U.S. dollars. But it would never do to appear overanxious, and a first offer was by definition a first offer. Her brow creased in a slight frown. “If you were willing to allow us thirty thousand we could buy an occasional gown as well.” She offered him a smile as though of shared commiseration. “You know how young girls are about gowns and fripperies. And perhaps if you could allow us just a bit more income, Jo could continue the violin and voice lessons she so adores.”

Hazard hadn’t seen such lamentable acting since Trey played the part of a frog in grammar school. “Why don’t we say forty thousand and be done with the dickering. Sheldon will write you the first check. You may receive payments either yearly or monthly, whichever you prefer.”

For a split second she wondered if she could get more, but one look at Hazard’s grim expression changed her mind. “Yearly would be very nice.” She was already planning on investing in the new railroad stocks that were—according to gossip—paying such excellent dividends. “How very generous of you,” she murmured, sensible of the level of enthusiasm forty thousand a year required. “I told Jo you were the most wonderful, wonderful man and now she will see for herself how unselfish and caring you are.”

“Speaking of Jo,” Hazard said, keeping his voice deliberately mild, “would you object if she were to stay with us in Helena for a time? Our family would like an opportunity to get to know her better.” He was careful not to express undue interest. Lucy’s mercenary antennae would be put on alert, and if he were inclined to give additional funds to anyone, he’d prefer giving them directly to his daughter.

“What a very nice idea.” A fortune hunter at heart, Lucy immediately saw her stipend increasing in direct relation to the charm her daughter could exude. Smiling warmly, she made a mental note to give fair warning to Jo; the girl could be vexing. “We’d love to stay,” she cooed. “I’ve always felt that spring here is unbelievably beautiful.”

For a second Hazard questioned whether he would regret being chivalrous, whether he should insist she leave immediately as part of their bargain. But a moment later, he decided a few more days of Lucy couldn’t be too alarming. “It’s settled, then. If you and Jo would care to come for tea this afternoon, we’d enjoy having you. Say, at five?”

“Thank you, we’d love to!” Once more marvelously solvent, she was in excellent spirits. “And thank you, too, for this really magnificent suite,” she added with a charming smile. “Although I’m not sure I didn’t like that lovely little room you had in Diamond City better. We had such fun there, didn’t we?”

That room in Diamond City had just cost him forty thousand a year, although, in truth, Lucy wasn’t to blame for the intemperance of his youth. He could have refused her those days in Diamond City; he could have sent her away. “It was a long time ago,” he replied, neutrally. “Diamond City’s a ghost town now.”

“It can’t be!”

“I’m afraid so. The last gold was taken out years ago.” Not inclined to reminisce about the past with Lucy, he came to his feet and glanced at his associate. “Are we ready?”

Sheldon wasn’t too old to appreciate Lucy’s voluptuous attractions but old enough to be wary of her artful flirtation. He also had a lawyer’s cynicism about human nature and an accountant’s reluctance to spend money. Hazard had overpaid her; his employer hadn’t even attempted to negotiate, a grievous sin in his estimation. But he wasn’t paid to give unwanted advice and no one had asked him for his opinion. Walking over to the marquetry table, he set the check next to Lucy’s teacup.

“Thank you, Sheldon,” Hazard said.

“Thank you, Sheldon.” Lucy’s tone was warm and silken, her gaze lifted to his, beguiling. “I do hope we have an opportunity to meet again.” Any man who had access to the Braddock-Black checkbook was a friend of hers.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Lucy,” she purred.

“You’re on your own, Sheldon,” Hazard said with a grin. “I’m leaving.”

There was the smallest hesitation before Sheldon followed.

Lucy noticed and her smile a moment later as she perused the check in her hand wasn’t entirely about the money. Sheldon could turn out to be very useful.

I
n the following days, Lucy contented herself with looking up old friends and dispensing some of her new funds at the better dress shops in town. It would never do to be seen looking dowdy in a backwater town like Helena. She even indulged herself in a new carriage, which purchase caused Hazard a degree of apprehension; it gave the appearance she might stay.

Once properly outfitted, Lucy began accepting invitations from all her old friends and like a duck to water reentered the frivolous round of social entertainments so dear to her heart. She didn’t mind that Jo spent more time with the Braddock-Blacks than with her. In fact, it turned out to be quite convenient to be independent of her daughter. A great many prominent Helena men were apparently bored with their wives, not an unusual circumstance in the urbane lives of the rich. They were looking for new amusements at the same time Lucy was looking to be amused.

A truly peerless match of motives.

The servants at the Plantation House Hotel kept a running tally of her male visitors and the gifts delivered to her from expensive jewelers. Their vigilance was partly in retaliation against Lucy’s continuous threats to have them fired for a multitude of frivolous infractions—and in part because a young, well-dressed man paid them for the information.

In short order, Lucy’s social calendar became so crowded, she scarcely had time to scan Gosimo’s increasingly pitiful letters when they arrived. Could she help it if he was lamenting his marriage? Did she care about his pathetic existence in his fifty-room villa? Could she help it if he preferred a well-endowed bank account to a well-endowed wife? He could have married her and ignored the wishes of his noble family. What good was a title, anyway, if you didn’t have two centesimi to rub together? Well, he’d secured his fortune, she supposed, but she’d secured one as well and her transaction didn’t require marriage to a gargoyle. Should she decide to return to Florence, she might deign to see him—he was adorably handsome. Now what was she going to wear to Estelle’s grand soiree tonight? The new embroidered silk surah or the pretty silver tulle? Stepping over Cosimo’s last letter that languished unopened on her dressing room floor, she opened her armoire and surveyed her much-improved wardrobe.

Jo’s social schedule was equally busy for Hazard and Blaze included her in all their plans and they entertained often. She also was offered an engineer’s position at one of their mining companies if she wished it and much as she’d tried to ascertain her mother’s feelings on the subject of staying or leaving, she’d not yet received an intelligible reply.

“There’s no rush to make a decision,” Hazard had assured her. “Enjoy yourself first.”

And she did, spending many hours every day in the company of her half sister and brother who responded to her with varying styles of friendship. More conventional and immersed in her work, Daisy enjoyed Jo’s intellect, quick wit and modern notions of a woman’s role in the world. They rode together and attended charity events that Daisy supported; they talked at length about the Absarokee culture that had become a part of her life literally overnight and visited a number of relatives who still lived in the tribal way. Her Absarokee heritage was at once intriguing and so strange from what she’d known living in Florence, that Jo found herself feeling occasionally as though she were straddling two worlds.

In Trey, she found an instant boon companion, their temperaments and sense of adventure well matched. Having come of age in Florence’s informal, expatriate society of writers, poets, artists and dilettantes of every stripe, Jo viewed personal freedom as a right, nonconformity as admirable and intellectual stimulation as the piquant reason for living.

She was not her mother’s daughter.

Something her father took note of with delight and at times chagrin. She was too much like him to rest easy. And on those occasions when Jo and Trey kicked up their heels in youthful pleasures, he and Blaze did their best to keep gossip within bounds. It helped, of course, that he was a man of wealth and prominence, that Blaze’s personal fortune had long made her immune to censure.

It helped that Jon Hazard Black generated a measure of fear.

Perhaps more than anything though, everyone remembered Hazard in his youth and shrugged in resignation. Blood will tell, they would say with a half smile and a nod. It’s a fact of life.