Rags to Rubies (15 page)

“Quit teasing me!” Grace scolded. “Who is she?”

Bruna inclined her head toward the back door of the wing that housed the kitchen. “Cook.
Le bambino
, I do’na know.”

“Hmmm.” Somehow Grace couldn’t picture the sensuous woman she had seen as a cook.

“
Bacia,
” Bruna said kissing her fingers, “disa morning, early. I see them from my window. Here in
il giardino
.”

The rush of jealousy must have registered on Grace’s face because Bruna chuckled aloud as she began to wheel herself toward the door. “Like
una sorella
,” she teased over her shoulder pointing to her cheek.

“
Piàno
, Graciella. Like a sister.” She continued to wheel herself slowly down the grassy path.

****

Grace was enjoying the fragrance of a newly opened pink damask rose when she heard a door open and close behind her and then the sound of a light tread on the stone-and-grass pathway.

She turned to find herself face to face with the young woman who had managed to make her feel the only pangs of jealousy she had ever felt. Even Adam’s conquest had only made her furious, not jealous. She didn’t enjoy this feeling and was prepared not to like the woman in spite of her wide, friendly smile.

A crisp white half-apron topped a simple cotton print dress. On her hip she carried a small wicker basket. “Hello,” she said. “Do you mind if I pick some herbs and vegetables from the garden?”

“No, of course not.” Grace held out her hand. “My name is Grace, Grace Hathaway.”

The woman shifted the basket and took Grace’s hand in a firm grasp. “Mary Francis Kelly. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She skirted around Grace and bent down near a bed of herbs to clip off a few sprigs of rosemary into her basket.

Grace tried to discern the woman’s accent—Eastern, Boston perhaps, with perfect enunciation. She chewed her lip, trying to decide how to begin a conversation with the beautiful stranger, but soon her curiosity got the best of her. “Are you from New York? Your accent seems more like Boston.”

The woman paled slightly. “Yes, I grew up in Boston but moved to New York…” She lowered her eyes. “I came here when I was a teenager.” She turned away to clip some dark curly lettuce into the basket.

Grace stooped to pull a few weeds, noticing Mary kept her face averted and hurried to finish her task. “Have you worked for Mr. de Warre long?” she asked finally, to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“I cook for the staff and for Jared when he’s here,” she said. “It’s been over five years now.”

Then she blushed, leaving Grace to guess what their arrangement must have been. The boy was about five years old, and most servants didn’t call an employer by his first name. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Grace sat on a stone bench near the path.

Mary sat back on her heels and looked up. “I don’t want to leave you with the wrong impression, Miss Hathaway.” The woman shifted uncomfortably. “Jared gave me a chance to earn my keep. Actually, I owe Jared my life and that of my son.”

“Jared saved your life?” Grace patted the seat next to her. “It seems we have something in common. He’s trying to help me, too. Sit. Please.”

Mary gazed at Grace for a long moment before taking the seat beside her. “I had just graduated high school. I was seventeen and in love with a boy a few years older,” she began. “You know the type—handsome, reckless, selfish. He was a musician, a drummer, going to try his luck in the big city.”

Mary didn’t have to recount the rest of the story, for it was too common a tale. Grace devoted some of her time to a house for unwed mothers in Chicago, Shepherd’s Fold, where girls who had nowhere else to go could get medical help, a place to stay for three months after the birth of their baby, and help with relocation, education, and a job. She had heard the story so many times she could recite it by heart.

“Let me guess. You went with him against your family’s wishes.”

Mary sighed and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Less than a year later, I found myself six months pregnant, on the street, hungry, and alone.” She lowered her eyes. “I hid in a church, slept on a pew at night, and wandered the streets by day. Jared and Donagon found me—saved me, really, from three men who were going to...”

She hesitated, her eyes becoming vacant.

Impulsively, Grace reached for Mary’s hand. Perhaps the memories were still too vivid, too painful to recount even after five years. She pulled Mary into a warm embrace and felt her squeeze in return. Mary Francis straightened and gave Grace a direct look. “He never once...I mean, he didn’t expect...” Her voice trailed off, leaving Grace to fill in the blanks.

Even at eighteen, Mary would have been exquisite. Jared would have found her incredibly attractive and desirable, yet it seemed he had not taken advantage of Mary’s unfortunate situation.

“If you’ve known Jared long, I guess you’ve noticed a few misfits in his employ.” Mary sniffed the sprig of thyme she held under her nose. “Do you know Albert?”

“Yes, his butler in Chicago.”

“Albert is sixty-eight years old, no family. He worked all his life for a wealthy family in upstate New York who turned him out when he was sixty-five with not so much as a dime in a pension for retirement. Jared gave him a job, secured investments for him that will give him a comfortable return. He should be able to retire in a few years.”

“What about Donagon?” Grace liked the colorful butler, but he too seemed out of his element, as did young Mr. Cobb with his collegiate vocabulary.

“Donagon and Jared worked the coal mines together. When he made his fortune, Jared contacted Donagon and offered him a job. Probably saved his life, too. All that coal dust.”

Grace could see Donagon and Jane together. Jane was going to have a difficult road ahead of her back in Chicago as a single mother of two children. The right man at her side would be a blessing. Maybe she’d try her hand at matchmaking. “Is Donagon married?”

“No. Never been.”

“Tell me about Mr. Cobb,” Grace inquired intuitively.

Mary Francis stopped short, her flawless complexion flushing to a pretty pink. She toyed with an errant blonde curl. “Henry, Mr. Cobb, came to us a few months ago. He’d been employed by a terrible man, an unscrupulous and devious accountant, who framed him for embezzlement.”

Mary’s voice took on a decidedly sharp-edged tone as she related the tale. “Jared heard of the case from a friend who assured him of Mr. Cobb’s innocence. Jared secured a good lawyer for him, and he was found innocent. The real crook went to jail.”

“Mr. Cobb is quite handsome, don’t you think?” Grace asked coyly.

Mary turned her pretty face away and the blush deepened. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Grace started to giggle. Mary’s smile widened to a grin.

Chapter Twenty-One

The man wept uncontrollably into his hands, his wrenching sobs unheard over the din of the speakeasy beyond the restroom door.

She’d been unfaithful. His beautiful Angela. How could he bear it? He wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and flushed the toilet where he’d thrown up his supper.

Luckily none of his buddies had witnessed the abomination. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He’d get even if it was the last thing he ever did. She’d pay for making a fool of him.

He retched again, the bile burning his throat as the memory of Angela’s unfaithfulness clouded his thinking.

He shook his head, trying to remember. She’d lied to him. Said she was sick and then left him. For a long while all he’d had were the photos, but she came back to him. She’d never been able to stay away. Then he had her again.

When his head cleared, he’d finish this business. He leaned his forehead against the stall’s cool metal door. He loved her. He was rich now. She’d come with him wherever he wanted to go. Oh, she’d come with him. He’d show up that stupid high hat. He’d teach him to put his hands on his Angie.

He stepped to the sink and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the bowl. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his face. Raucous music blared in the background. He thought of the blonde he’d been buying drinks for all night long. She’d been all over him. He’d take her for a fine ride. If she wasn’t game, it was too bad. She’d been quick enough to spend his money.

He staggered toward the door.

Why couldn’t he get his fill of the bitch? Damn her, anyway! Damned slut! She was never satisfied. How many men had she plowed through?

He was sick of it. He hated her. She’d pay for what she put him through. He hated her. He hated her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Monday night arrived, and Jared found himself pacing impatiently at the foot of the foyer staircase, but when he glanced up and saw Grace, he stopped abruptly. Angelic was the word that came to mind.
Damned angelic
.

She smiled and did a slow twirl for him from the landing before she started down the steps.

Jared hoped his intake of breath had not been audible. She practically floated down the staircase in a shimmering silver evening gown that hugged her curves and trailed seductively along each step. Her skirt separated to show a flash of leg in flesh-colored silk stockings.

The muscles in Jared’s groin tightened.

A low cowl neckline fell in soft folds across her bosom, but the
pièce de resistance
was the plunging back that ended just above her temptingly rounded derriere and revealed a back so supple and flawless it begged to be caressed. Pearls formed a choker circling her neck in front only to fall long and knotted down the length of her back, ending in a jeweled clasp.

Her rebellious locks had been coaxed into an up-do with the usual stubborn russet wisps escaping to kiss her forehead and nape. A fluffy silver aigrette decorated a satin band circling her hair and matched the feather fan she held.

Jared snapped his mouth shut. Her natural beauty and fine complexion boasted only the blush of youth and vitality.

She used makeup like an artist, to enhance rather than cover. Her brows were not plucked and then painted on, but rather shaped in a gentle curve above clear, sparkling, generously lashed, azure eyes. Her lips were covered with a barely detectable stain reminiscent of mulberries and were parted in a smile to reveal straight white teeth. She smelled of flowers.

“Mainbocher?” Jared murmured into her diamond-studded ear.

“Molyneux,” she said, “my one big splurge.” She handed him her wrap. “A fashion-minded man? Will wonders never cease? Where are we going?” she asked over her shoulder as Jared helped her on with her capuchin.

Jared inhaled her scent, his hands lingering about her shoulders. “There’s a new show,
Pleasure Man
, at the Biltmore, with Mae West. Unless the police close it down, as rumored.” He reluctantly released her.

She turned to face him. “Then the night could prove interesting.” Wrapping her arm through his, she flashed him a positively dazzling smile.

****

When Jared’s locomobile approached the Great White Way and its glittering lights, Grace felt as if she’d been given a shot of adrenaline. The theatre district vibrated with life and excitement. She remembered this pulse-quickening feeling as the avenue put on its evening face.

“The watering hole of the rich and famous,” Jared said derisively. “They come to see and be seen.”

Grace laughed. “Aren’t you one of the rich and famous?”

The smile reached his eyes. “Only three-hundred and ninety-nine lucky people ahead of me,” he answered glibly.

“Not according to the
New York Times
,” she countered. He topped Mrs. Astor’s Four Hundred List.

Not that she was on anyone’s list anymore. She’d lost contact with most of her New York friends after the incident with Adam; she’d been too embarrassed, too humiliated to stay in touch. But Adam’s natural charm and social position had allowed him to maintain his status in the right circles, and he had simply moved on, she knew.

That knowledge soured any desire to keep the lines of communication open. Any news of Adam resulted in a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she avoided at all costs. She declined invitations to visit, and other than the occasional greeting card had severed all ties with the friends they’d had in common.

But tonight she would not let the past control her. She scanned the glittering lights, coming alive to the invigorating effects of the city viewed from the arm of a handsome, attentive man. She began to feel she had merely existed for the past two years.

Mr. Cobb pulled the locomobile up to the theater. As they entered the elegant marble-columned entrance to the Biltmore, Grace glanced up at Jared’s handsome face. She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling his essence, a wonderful musky scent, as he removed the capuchin from her shoulders and gave it to the uniformed coat-check girl. A few days ago she had been content, almost at peace; the only man in her life had finally become a bittersweet memory. Now, she shuddered and grew weak-kneed at the mere touch of a virtual stranger.

Dressed in formal eveningwear with a black tailcoat and white waistcoat, Jared looked both stylish and completely comfortable in his elegance. His tanned skin made a striking contrast to the starched white dinner shirt and white tie. When he donned his velvet-collared black Chesterfield and put on a silk top hat, he could have given the Prince of Wales sartorial competition.

Tonight she wanted to have a good time. She wouldn’t think about the day when he would leave her. The time had come to put the past aside without fearing the future.

By his own admission, he wanted her. Maybe she would not have the chance to feel like this again.

****

As they entered the theater, he knew by the heads that turned he was the envy of every man who laid eyes on her. But Grace seemed unaware of her beauty and appeal. No wonder the little fool got herself into trouble.