Power in the Blood (93 page)

She placed a hand against her forehead and swooned to the carpet. Leo was on his feet instantly. “Imogen! Oh, my dearest …” He scooped her clumsily into his arms and held her tightly, swamping her nose with his whiskey breath.

“Imogen, Imogen …”

She opened her eyes, allowing them to roll a little in their shapely sockets. “Oh, Leo … I felt him stirring within me.… Our son, Leo, tiny as he is … he made himself known to me.… to us!”

“My darling …”

“I … I feel quite faint, Leo …”

“Rest yourself, Imogen. Here, take the sofa.…”

He wrestled her onto the sateen cushions and sank down at her knees, suddenly filled with reverence for her exalted state. His offer of extra cash if she would go away to bear the child elsewhere had been truly shameful, and he hoped Imogen would forgive him. There was to be a son after all! He had all but given up hope for such an event by way of Zoe, and now here was Imogen, with the most wonderful news he could imagine—an heir for the Brannan empire! Provided, of course, that Leo retained the lion’s share of the company, following his remarriage to Zoe. Provided Zoe never learned of his other child, his son, and took steps to ensure that the boy would not gain what would be denied her own daughter. Zoe and Omie, what nuisances they were. If only they could have sailed away for the world’s far side and never been heard of again, the nasty business concerning Bryce Aspinall need never have arisen, and the boy growing inside his darling Imogen would come into being as his rightful son, his blood heir without a doubt, the natural recipient of power and wealth that had been years in the making.

Leo was already scrambling among names of masculine gender for his boy—David, Benjamin, perhaps even another Leo! Leo Brannan junior. Leo Brannan the second. It had a dynastic ring to it that Leo found irresistible. But there was Zoe, there was Omie.… The problem was insoluble, it seemed, and he was cast into despair by its serpentine coilings, the tenacious grip of the actual over the possible, the hold of past over future, misery over happiness. Zoe was causing Leo great pain, and the faithless creature was not even his legally wedded wife! It was intolerable! Zoe had betrayed him, yet it was she who stood to reap the richest harvest of golden dollars from the situation. Where was justice? Where were order and reason and the natural rightness of things for a man who had done no wrong and the woman who loved him enough to bear him a son? The world was indeed a topsy-turvy place, godless, without moral equilibrium of any kind, if Zoe, who had knowingly posed as a widow in order to snare him, was allowed to claim the prize that was not rightfully hers. It would be a triumph for the forces of darkness and deceit, and it must not be allowed to happen.

Rowland Price’s personal investigation into the background of Imogen Starr had borne no fruit of any kind. His contacts in Colorado Springs were unable to place the name into conjunction with any person known to them, yet Colorado Springs was the place Imogen had come from, by her own admission to Leo, who had casually passed the information on to Rowland. The conclusion to be drawn from such anonymity and lack of verifiable public record was not a pleasant one: Leo apparently had found himself another liar. Rowland decided he would say nothing for the moment, and await the results of deeper inquiry. The first liar was already providing sufficient headaches for now. It was disturbing enough that Zoe was returning almost as quickly as she had departed, allowing Leo no real opportunity to burn out his lust for liar number two; the difficulties ahead had been exacerbated by the startling news that Imogen was expecting a child. Rowland had demanded the name of the doctor who told her this, but Leo was opposed to such acts of unsubstantiated suspicion; if Imogen said she was pregnant, then she was, but even Leo could not convey total conviction when speaking of the mother-to-be’s certainty of her baby’s sex. “It isn’t possible for her to know, Leo, it just isn’t,” Rowland said, but Leo insisted women were creatures of instinct, and her prediction would very likely prove to be true. Rowland saw he was arguing with a man not only smitten still by Cupid’s dart but desirous of having at last the one thing he had until now lacked—a son and heir. There was no reasoning with him over Imogen and her progeny-in-the-making, so Rowland decided to pursue other alternatives in an effort to open Leo’s eyes before any of this came to the attention of the Praetorians.

“A man cannot have two women, Leo, and succeed in public life, unless he is a Frenchman.”

“I’m an American, Rowland.”

“And you’re obliged, therefore, to choose.”

“Between them? Rowland, are you not the one who suggested I remarry Zoe at the earliest opportunity?”

“I was, and since that time we have learned of a supposed child. Your child, Leo, if Miss Starr is correct.”

“It does complicate matters enormously.… But what are you suggesting now?”

“Zoe is not your wife. Even without the presence of Bryce Aspinall to verify it, we have the church records from Pueblo stating she was married to the fellow. She will be unable to produce papers of divorce, and will have no legal ground to stand on if you choose to divorce her.”

“Divorce? Rowland, may I remind you that if Zoe is not my wife, then I am a poor man indeed, in a very literal sense. If she is not mine, neither is Brannan Mining.”

“You and I know that, Leo, and your attorney and his staff know it, but Zoe Aspinall does not, and I see no reason why news of it should ever reach her. You’ve said yourself that she never concerns herself with legal niceties and the intricacies of ownership. To be crude, Leo, the lady seemed only ever interested in yourself.”

“Women have no head for such matters, it’s true, but supposing she did ask questions of an embarrassing nature with regard to the company—then what?”

“You make such questionings unnecessary, Leo, by offering her a generous settlement to remove herself from any claims upon you and yours.”

“How generous?”

“Offer her a million dollars to sign a document stating that she tricked you into a false marriage and has no claim against you as a result of that trickery. She may not be happy to admit she lied, but a settlement of such proportions will cheer her up in no time. Why would she be dissatisfied with it? She’ll take the money and be grateful you don’t bring suit against her for bigamy.”

“But a million dollars …”

“Cheap, my friend, dirt cheap. You have your company, and you’re free to marry Miss Starr, if that is your choice. It’s the perfect solution for everyone.”

“I’m thinking, Rowland … I’m thinking it might have been better to leave Mr. Aspinall alone, kept him on the payroll, so to speak, to confront her with her own past, you see.…”

“All very well to see that now, Leo, but hindsight offers clearer skies than the daily fog we plow through. We have hit a reef, and Mr. Aspinall’s end is neither here nor there. Do you wish to remarry Zoe, or take the other lady for your wife?”

“I have made my feelings known to you.”

“And so there can be but one path to follow, yes?”

“Yes …”

She sent a telegram from Denver, giving the time of her arrival home, and a carriage was waiting for herself and Omie at the Glory Hole station. They were taken directly to Elk House, where Leo nervously awaited their arrival. He had wanted to avoid any confrontation so soon, but Rowland advised against it. “Be there when she arrives. Tell her what you know. Take the wind from her sails without pause, without mercy. Postpone nothing.” And when Zoe came through the front doors of their home, Leo was there, working himself into a cold rage, the better to accuse her of her crimes.

“Leo, home at this early hour?” asked Zoe, breezing past him on her way to the staircase.

“Some things must take precedence over business, my dear.”

“How remarkable that we should agree on something.”

He followed her up the stairs. She had not even allowed him a kiss in passing. Leo was finding it easy to be annoyed with her. He became aware of Omie’s belated entrance only when he was halfway to the first floor, and gave her a stiff wave, which was not returned with nearly enough speed or enthusiasm to placate him; it would be better when Omie was gone, along with her mother; the girl had always made him uneasy with her uncanny ways, her blue face and its staring eyes.

“We must talk, Zoe. We must talk immediately.”

“Of course.”

She entered her room. Leo hesitated at the doorway, then followed her inside. “Why have you returned so soon?”

“Seasickness. We both suffered most abominably. Sea voyages are no longer under consideration for either of us.”

“But … why not a trip by land?”

“To where—Mexico? Canada?”

“Oh, anywhere at all in our own country. The railroads nowadays … such wonderful scenery, so easily admired from a comfortable seat … I do believe it will be a thing of future times, Zoe—travel for the sake of scenery alone.”

“You may be right.” Zoe unpinned her hat and set it down on the dresser. “Is she still here? In town, I mean.”

“Here …?”

“Your mistress, Leo.”

“I … well, yes. Yes, she is here, and here she’ll stay!”

The sudden change of tone in his voice made Zoe look up at him. Leo’s face was flushed with anger.

“I did inform you, Leo, that you must make a decision before my return. I admit I’ve come home earlier than expected, but my conditions remain as stated.”

“Oh, do they, do they indeed. Well, let me tell you …
wife,
that conditions hereabouts have changed, oh, yes! Nothing is the same anymore. There have been fundamental changes since your departure, indeed there have!”

“Will you share these changes with me, Leo? You seem upset. Has the market for gold plummeted overnight?”

“The market for gold is steady, and will continue that way. The market for truth and fidelity, however, has crashed, and the market for honesty within the state of matrimony has likewise come tumbling down, at least in this house, my dear, my
darling
.…”

“You’re referring to your mistress, Leo?”

“I am referring to Zoe Aspinall, who pretended to be Zoe Dugan, who attempted to become Zoe Brannan, but is not! That is the woman to whom I refer!”

Zoe’s expression of casual contempt faltered. She attempted to replace it with a scornful mask, but knew it made no impression on the red-faced man before her. How had he found out?

“Well?” he bellowed. “What do you have to say for yourself! Do you have the gall to deny what I say? Do you? I have the proof! I have it on paper, Miss Bigamist, Miss Treachery and Deceit, Miss Make-a-fool-of-me …! Do you wish to speak?”

“Leo … I had no plan, no wish to be unkind.…”

“But you were! You were unkind! Why did you say nothing of this man! Why did you let me believe myself your husband! Good God, woman, supposing we had managed to have children between us! Bastards! You said nothing!
Nothing!
”

“It was … it had no meaning for me. He was gone. He was no longer real. I thought … I thought it might upset you to learn of him.…”

“And it has, it has upset me to learn of him. It has upset me far more than it would have had you mentioned him before we undertook certain sacred vows, Mrs. Aspinall.”

“Leo, I … I meant you no harm by it, truly.…”

“And no harm will come to me, or to you, or to Omie, because no word, no word at all, of this disgrace to us all, will be made public, do you hear? I will not have my name, and yours, and, more importantly, Omie’s, dragged through the filth that public knowledge would smear upon us all if any inkling of this … this
humiliation
became known to the world. I wish to spare us all any such thing, especially Omie, who is blameless. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes …”

“My attorney has drawn up a paper releasing one million dollars for your personal use in any fashion you desire—one million dollars, Zoe, simply to absolve yourself of any connection to myself and my business holdings. My attorney has tried several times to dissuade me from this course of action, since I owe you nothing at all, but that has never been my way. I wish for you and Omie to be taken care of, and have insisted that your payment of severance be not one dollar less. You and Omie will quit this house and say nothing to anyone concerning the reasons why. The contract is clear, the terms fair. I would not have gone this far, Zoe, if I thought you truly had loved me, but your actions have made it plain you did not. No woman of integrity would ever have deceived a man so. You have had your own trials, and I admit you have suffered, but that is no excuse. You wronged me with unforgivable duplicity and mendacity and … you made me believe you loved me when you did not!”

The papers were produced from his jacket like a rabbit from the silk hat of a magician. They landed with a rustle and a swoosh in front of Zoe, page upon page of close-written absolution, denial and renouncement. She could barely read the words. He had found out, after all this time, and now she was without armor, defenseless before buried truths that had been unearthed and flung into her face. Zoe had entered Elk House like a returning queen, and within minutes had been reduced to some kind of conniving kitchen maid, a worthless slut whose futile aim it had been to bring down a worthy man by lies and deceit. She truly felt he had reason to hate her, given the secret she had kept from him for so many years. She was found out. She was undone. A pen and inkwell were fetched from her writing desk. She scanned the clause Leo’s finger pointed out to her, the one concerning immediate payment of one million dollars to herself if she would acknowledge her lie. One million dollars, compensation of regal proportion, and who was she to say it was not enough, she who had knowingly married one man while married to another. Leo was unshakable in his wrath, immovable in his certainty that what was done could be made over with the scratching of a steel nib on fine paper prepared for that purpose. He was, she supposed, being generous. There was, she supposed, nothing else she could do, other than sign the sheets spread before her, sign them in the name of herself, but a self she found it difficult to recognize after so long.