Maid to Match (26 page)
“I was happy for an excuse to retire. The women have been talking of nothing but ball gowns and boys. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
“They’ve certainly grown up.”
“It’s a bit astounding, isn’t it? Even to me.” Chuckling, he moved to the brandy decanter and splashed brandy into two crystal glasses, then handed one to Mack. “Have a seat and tell me how things are progressing.”
Sinking into a brown leather chair, Mack told him of his job at Biltmore. Of Ora Lou’s trials at the orphanage. Of Homer’s heartrending arrival. Of the squalor. The beatings. The locking-up in the basement. The sparseness of the rooms. And, last, of the fears he held for the older girls.
Vaughan leaned back with legs crossed, elbow on an armrest, his mouth resting on his fist. “Are you sure? As you requested, I myself have been by. The parlor was pristine, as well as Sloop’s study. The children looked like what you’d expect.”
“Did you venture into the back areas or upstairs? Talk to any of the children without Sloop present?”
“I did not.”
Mack didn’t say anything.
Vaughan pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what are you suggesting?”
“That Sloop dresses pretty well for an orphanage director.”
Vaughan slowly lowered his hand. “You think he’s embezzling funds?”
“I don’t know. What if we raided the place? Confiscated the ledgers? It’d be pretty clear then what was going on.”
“The police would never go along with that. Nor would the townsfolk. Sloop’s a hero in their eyes. And with him running against me in the election now, I can’t make any accusations without it looking like sour grapes – particularly when I have no proof.”
Setting the brandy on the table beside him, Mack voiced what he’d been thinking for a while now. “He needs to be replaced. The only way to completely secure the children’s safety is to oust Sloop. But I have no idea who would be willing to take the directorship on. I was hoping maybe you would.”
Swinging his foot, Vaughan pursed his lips. “What about you?”
Mack stilled. “Me?”
“Why not?”
“Because, I, well, I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of all those kids.”
“Of course you would. You’ve been taking care of your siblings since your father died.”
“But that’s different. I had Ma’s help. And then Ora Lou’s. Besides, I was planning to build furniture for a living.”
“Why?”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Yes. Do you have some grand passion for building furniture?”
“Not at all. It just happens to be the only way I can make a living while simultaneously living on the mountain. Which is another thing – I don’t want to live in town.”
“What about your brothers?”
“What about them?”
“You just told me watching that boy’s father drop him off made you realize leaving Ikey, Otis, and John-John with other families was not the best decision you’d ever made.” Breathing deeply, Vaughan looked Mack in the eye. “If you were director of the orphanage, you could go get them and bring them back. Then you’d all be together again.”
The idea was so new, so far outside the plans he had, he could hardly even think. “What about living on the mountain?”
Vaughan uncrossed his legs. “You’d have to give that up.”
Mack pulled back. “It’s my home. I think about it all the time. It’s the only place where I have enough room to expand, be my own man . . .” He shrugged. “Breathe.”
His father’s friend said nothing. And even as Mack said the words, he knew how selfish they sounded. Would he leave Homer, Irene, any of them, to Sloop simply because he wanted elbow room? And what about his own brothers?
He dragged a hand down his face. “I need to think. Pray.
Can I get back to you on it?”
“Of course.”
They sat in silence as Mack continued to gather his equilibrium. “Do you even think I have a chance at it? Why would they replace Sloop with some highlander like me?”
“Because even though the chief and Sloop are close friends, when the cards are down, the chief is a good, honest man. He won’t take the welfare of those kids lightly – orphans or no.” Vaughan swirled the brandy in his glass. “No, the biggest hurdle I see is you aren’t married. Right?”
“Not yet.”
He raised his brows. “You’ve someone in mind?”
“She’s a maid at Biltmore. Right now, she’s a bit resistant to the idea of leaving. I expect her to come around, though.”
“Well, directors have to be married. How long before she’ll agree, do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
Finishing off his drink, Vaughan set the glass down. “Well, see what you can do to speed that up. Meanwhile, we need someone to keep a closer eye on Sloop.” He shifted his gaze to a corner of the room and stared unseeing at a collection of antique firearms inside a glass case. “What if in the interim, I arranged for you to be a useful man at the orphanage?”
Mack straightened. “Do you think you could?”
“I know I could. The building is an eyesore, and I made sure it was discussed at length at the last county meeting, though mostly because I’ve been trying to draw attention to the place since you and I talked back in August.”
“Sloop would never agree to having me there.”
“Sloop won’t have a choice. We appoint the positions, not him. We can’t pay you anything near what you’re making at Biltmore, though.”
“That’s all right. Now that Ora Lou has work, it’s eased much of the burden. And if this really happens and the boys can join me, well, then, I don’t really need the kind of income I make there.”
Vaughan nodded. “I’ll get the ball rolling first thing tomorrow. When’s your next day off?”
“Two weeks from today.”
“Come back then. But this time, I insist you join us for dinner.”
Mack stood. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure. Now, tell me what you’ve done with Ora Lou.”
“She’s at Mrs. Getty’s Boarding House and does scullery at the New York Café.”
“Well, you bring her and your little lady along to dinner, as well.”
“I’ll do my best, sir, and thank you again.”
“I won’t allow it. Absolutely not.”
Vaughan sat in the parlor of the orphanage with Chief Pilkerton and watched Sloop pace, his eyes furious, his cheeks mottled.
“The man broke my nose, Zachary. You can’t seriously expect me to have him underfoot all the time.”
Pilkerton held up his hands. “There’s nothing I can do, Forbus. The council appointed the position.”
“Under whose recommendation?”
Vaughan leaned back in his chair. “Mine.”
Sloop seared him with his gaze. “Why?”
“Because I’ve known him since he was a boy, and he’s as fine a man as they come.”
“He broke my nose!”
“Which I find very troubling – particularly since I know Mackenzie to be a bit overprotective of the underdog. Just what was it you did, I wonder, to provoke such a reaction out of him, Mr. Sloop?”
The director exploded. “How should I know? The man’s a loose cannon.”
“Perhaps we should invite him and his sister here to tell the three of us just exactly what that fight was about.”
A touch of caution entered Sloop’s eye.
“What was it about?” the chief asked. “Vaughan claims Danver was protecting his sister.”
“Preposterous! Do you see what I mean? The man’s touched.” Sloop tapped the side of his head as if to demonstrate Mack’s lack of mental capabilities.
“Either way, there’s nothing you or I can do.” Pilkerton sighed. “The council has appointed Danver useful man for the orphanage. But he’ll be under your authority, Forbus. I did see to that.”
Though Sloop was still clearly upset, the idea of having Mack under his thumb mollified him somewhat.
Rising, Vaughan shook Sloop’s hand. “I have another appointment at the moment, but next time I believe I’d like a tour of the back portion of the facilities.”
Sloop sputtered and started to protest.
Vaughan quickly put on his hat, cutting the director off. “Good day, Sloop. I’ll be in touch.”
Tillie wrapped a piece of twine around a bouquet of tea roses and maidenhair fern. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled, the aroma reminding her of a freshly opened box of the choicest tea.
Arranging flowers was one of her favorite parts of being head parlormaid. Once the gardeners found Mrs. Vanderbilt was partial to tea roses, they began appearing with much more frequency.
Tillie tucked the cluster into a larger arrangement, then stood back to eye it critically. The delicate blooms blended together like the first rays of dawn with tones of gold, warm pink, and rose. Grabbing scissors from the worktable, she trimmed a fern that was poking out a little too far.
“Mr. Sterling said you needed help carrying the flowers upstairs.”
She spun around. Mack filled the entire doorway. He’d loosened his collar, rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. Try as they might, no one could convince him to wear his clothes the proper way.
“You can’t go upstairs looking like that,” she said, hoping he couldn’t see the hubbub he’d created within her simply by appearing at her work door.
He rolled down a sleeve. “I’m leaving, Tillie.”
“I hadn’t heard Mrs. Vanderbilt was going out. Where are you going?”
“No, I mean I’m quitting.”
She slowly placed the scissors on the table. “Quitting? You mean, Biltmore? You’re quitting Biltmore?”
“Yes.” Lifting his chin, he buttoned his shirt and adjusted his collar.
“But why?”
“I’m going to be useful man for the orphanage.”
She shook her head. “I don’t . . . what about . . . where will . . .” She looked around the workroom at the wire, twine, and five arrangements she’d been working on for the past hour.
“I’d like you to come with me,” he said.
Her gaze flew back to his. “Go with you?”
Stepping inside, he closed the door.
“What are you doing? Open that back up. We can’t be in here alone.”
He skirted the table. She scuffled backward. But there was nowhere to run.
When she’d backed herself into the corner, he braced his hands on either side of her head. “Marry me.”
The smell of man, starch, and determination envel–- oped her.
“I’ve already told you, I – ”
He kissed her. Not a hard, demanding kiss, but one as soft and delicate as one of her tea roses.
“Marry me.”
“I – ”
He kissed her again, his knuckles grazing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He allowed a hairsbreadth of space between them, but only long enough to repeat his entreaty. “Marry me.”
He again sought her lips with gentle, persuasive touches, which she found much more devastating than when he released his full passion upon her.
Groping for her hand, he found it and brought it to his cheek. “Marry me.”
He angled his head, continuing to coax a response from her.
Breathless and confused, she rested her other hand on his shoulder, then crinkled his shirt with her fist. “You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.”
He spoke against her lips. “Come with me.”
“But I – ”
He kissed her more urgently, his body tight against hers, then pulled his head back. “Don’t say no. You can’t say no. Because I’m really leaving. Today. And I want to leave knowing you’ll be mine, just as soon as we can arrange it.”
An ache, deep and sharp, gripped her beneath the rib cage. “Why, why?”
“Because I love you.” He drew her to him, running his hands along her back and shoulders and arms, every allowable inch. “Do you love me? Do you?”
She squeezed his shoulders.
Yes. Yes
.
But she didn’t answer.
He tipped up her chin with his thumbs. “Do you, Tillie? Do you love me even a little?”
Tears rose swiftly, threatening to spill. “You know I do,” she whispered.
“Then marry me.” He bracketed her face, kissing the moisture from one eye and then the other, before lifting her to him like a seedling bursting from the soil in search of the sun’s warming gaze.
She molded herself against him, encircling his neck, kissing him back with all the love and passion she felt. Because she knew this would be the very last time they’d ever share this sweet, wonderful, breathtaking intimacy.
She drove her fingers into his hair. Ah, that thick, wonderful hair. She pressed her body against his, trying to absorb him, trying to steal some of his very essence and keep it stored within her heart.
He flipped them around, so he was in the corner and she was on the outside. He broke the kiss. “Does that mean yes? Are you saying – ?”
She silenced him with her mouth, taking full advantage of her new position as she freely ran her hands along his face, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his waist, wishing now he hadn’t buttoned himself all up.
He let her have her way, then suddenly squeezed her in a vise grip she thought would surely break her in two.
And that’s when her tears began to flow, salting their kisses.
He lifted his face. “Why are you crying?”
She looked into the brown eyes she’d come to care for so very, very much. She ran her fingers along his eyebrows and nose.
