Secrets (20 page)

Josephine hesitated. “Not since this mornin', chile.”

“Oh.”

“But Rick says he wants to talk to you. He's in his study.”

Regina brightened. Rick would know where Slade
was. She hurried from the kitchen, by now knowing her way through the house as if she were its mistress. With a start of pleasure, she realized that, as Slade's wife, she
was
now its mistress, or at least one of them. Miramar was now her home, and who would not be thrilled with a home such as this? She nearly skipped through the halls.

Rick's door was ajar and he saw her before she could knock or announce herself. “Come on in.”

Regina entered, smiling. “Good afternoon.”

“Sit down, Elizabeth.” His voice was very sober, very firm.

At his words, guilt pierced her, deflating her happiness. “Is something wrong?” She could not breathe normally. Had Victoria or Edward finally told him that she was not Elizabeth? Did he know? Her mind whirled with astonishing speed. If Rick knew, she was going to have to tell Slade. Slade was her husband—she had to tell him the truth, and soon. In fact, after last night, she felt confident that she could tell him immediately. Yet despite her confidence, the thought was not pleasant. How could it be? The subject was not pleasant.

“Something's wrong,” Rick said slowly, “but not so wrong that you should look like I'm about to shoot you.”

Regina relaxed slightly in response to his brief smile. Yet looking closely at him, she saw that his smile did not reach his eyes and she grew uneasy again. Did he know after all? “What has happened?”

“Look, honey, there's no easy or nice way to tell you this, but Slade has left.”

He spoke in English, but he might have been speaking a foreign language for all the sense he made. “Left?”

“Left.”

“I—I don't understand.”

“Slade decided to go back to San Francisco, where he's been living these past few years.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rick repeated himself word for word.

She said, “Without me?”

He hesitated. “Without you. He knows you'll be taken care of here.”

It took a very long moment for her to actually comprehend what had occurred. And then her world crashed around her with sickening force.

“Honey, you're not going to faint, are you?” Rick jumped to his feet and was at her side in an instant. “Here, let me get you a drink. I think you could use one.”

Regina was stunned and disbelieving. She did indeed feel precipitously close to fainting. “Are you saying,” she whispered, “that Slade has left me?”

“Well, he hasn't exactly left you,” Rick hedged. “He's just returned to his life up north.”

Regina stared. She was numb, in a state of shock.
Slade had left. Slade had returned to San Francisco, without her, where he had been living before their marriage. Slade had just married her, but he had left. He had left her. After last night, he had left her
.

Through the shock, anger hissed.

“You all right?” Rick tried to hand her a glass of liquor, but Regina did not take it, didn't answer. She barely heard her father-in-law. Her mind came to life again. Slade had stated from the first that he was marrying her for her money, nothing more. She had married him for love. Last night she had gone to him in love. And he had taken her not the way a man takes his wife, but the way a man would take a prostitute. And today, today he had left her.

“Elizabeth, this doesn't change a thing. He's still my heir, and you're still his wife.” Rick put his hand on her shoulder. “You still belong here, don't worry about that.”

Angrily, Regina shook his hand off. “That bloody bastard!”

“Well, he can be that, at times.”

“He married me and left me! He had no intention—blast him—of staying with me as my husband!”

“Well, I guess not.”

“Damn him!” Regina shouted. Tears blurred her
vision. Had she actually loved him? Was it possible? Now she could see that she had been the biggest fool to think that he had returned her feelings. Last night he had not been returning her feelings, he had been using her! He had been slaking his lust with her! How she regretted what she had done!

“Look, he'll be back, he always comes back,” Rick said, without his customary vigor. “And when he does, the two of you can work things out.”

“When! Next year?”

Rick was silent.

Regina got up and paced wildly. She was a woman spurned, and never had she felt such intense emotion as she felt now. It was a wild, reckless, burning hatred. God, how he had used her! And the fact that she had been a stupidly willing victim did not excuse his actions, not in the least! But there was a solution. And it was very obvious. She whirled. “Where is he?”

“Frisco.”

“Do you know exactly where I can find him?”

Rick looked relieved. “Yeah.”

“Good!”

“You going after him?” Rick asked.

“Oh, yes.” Regina smiled, but not pleasantly. “I'm going after him—to get a divorce!”

“Now hold on!” Rick cried. Again Regina shook off his hand. “Don't you go acting like a fool! Think of Miramar! This is your home now, Elizabeth, and that's what's important. Slade will be back and—”

“I'm not Elizabeth.”

Rick froze.

“I'm not Elizabeth,” Regina said, feeling a savage kind of satisfaction. Rick was not to blame for Slade's actions, she knew that, but she could not help herself. “My name is Regina Shelton, Lady Regina Bragg Shelton, and yes, I'm related to the Texas Braggs and the New York Braggs. My father happens to be the Earl of Dragmore, and my mother is a countess. I am an heiress in my own right. And I do not need you or Miramar, thank you very much.”

“I see,” Rick said slowly.

“And I don't need Slade!”

“You got your memory back pretty suddenly, huh?”

Regina was too angry to care at being caught in an act of deceit. “I remembered two days before the wedding. But I stupidly wanted to marry your son and it had nothing to do with Miramar.” She saw Rick's expression change, saw it brighten, but that didn't interest her either.

“Well, I've learned my lesson,” she said hotly. “I'm divorcing Slade immediately and going home, where I belong. And he can just go find himself another heiress to save his precious Miramar!”

T
he day after learning of Slade's desertion, Regina arrived in San Francisco.

It was half past the hour of four. Regina sat rigidly, hands clasped in her lap, filled with tension. Adrenaline had been pulsing in her bloodstream since yesterday's betrayal. Since she had learned what a real bastard her husband was, she had not been able to do anything but think of him. There were rings of sleeplessness around her eyes, which were also puffy from crying. Because along with the anger, there was so much pain.

Edward leaned over and patted her unsteady hands. He had volunteered to bring her to his brother; in fact, he had insisted he accompany her. The situation was also horribly humiliating—what bride was deserted the day after her wedding by the groom? Regina would have preferred traveling alone, but, of course, ladies did not travel alone. She had accepted. Her acceptance had been frosty. She was not just furious with Slade, but with his entire family, even if it were unreasonable.

Nevertheless, Edward was nothing but caring and sympathetic. It was slightly longer than an eight-hour journey by rail from Templeton, where they had caught the day's train. He kept a minimal amount of conversation going, just enough to distract her, and all of it
carefully innocuous. His wit had even brought forth the ghost of a smile twice. Regina was no longer cool to Slade's brother. How could she be? He might have guessed the truth about her before she had told Rick yesterday, and he might have even shared that truth with his mother, but it no longer mattered.

His kindness was all that mattered. She looked at him gratefully, any anger she had been taking out on him gone. Even now, despite the fact that she had been uncommunicative and just short of rude all day, he was attempting to comfort her. Lord, how she needed comfort.

That thought threatened to undo her control. She turned her head away so he would not see how close she was to fresh tears. Now she needed self-control more than ever. When she finally confronted Slade, she would not weep.

Nor would she rail. Yesterday she had acted like a common shrew. She had shrieked and shouted at Rick, who was certainly not responsible for what his son had done. Today she would be cool and calm. Just because Slade failed to have any morals whatsoever, she did not intend to sink to his level. She was a well-bred lady. She would cling to her manners and gentility no matter how hard it was. She must. She must never let him see what he had done to her.

Regina managed a small smile for Edward's benefit, a fragile kind of thank-you, and glanced away. She had not only lost all of her self-respect with Rick, she thought, deeply ashamed, every time she recalled her wedding night and her behavior—her abandoned, enthusiastic, scandalous behavior—she quaked. If she could have just one wish, it would be that the night had never happened. Slade had only been using her—but she had loved him. At the time her love had been an excuse to indulge in all the unspeakable acts he had guided her toward. Today, there were simply no possible excuses for the past. Now when she had to face him he would also remember her behavior. The mere thought was mortifying.

It was also incredible that she had thought, even for a moment, that he had loved her, too. Never would she be so naive again.

The train was slowing, already entering the large glass-and-iron station. Through the dusty windows, Regina saw a hive of activity. Commuters were everywhere. Men were rushing to and fro in their dark suits and jaunty hats, hurrying to catch the trains that would take them home, whether it was the elegant, super-fast Owl, a nonstop to Los Angeles that traveled through the San Joaquin Valley, or just a local spurr to San Jose or Oakland. Regina's heart was pounding heavily. Soon she would confront Slade and demand a divorce. Soon, but not soon enough.

She shifted on her seat, adrenaline thrumming through her body more strongly than before. She could barely wait, yet anxiety filled her too. Nothing was ever easy with Slade, but she would persuade him to divorce her. After all, once she made it clear that he would not get her money, he would no longer be interested in the liaison. And she would not reveal to him that she was Regina Bragg Shelton, not until after he had signed the papers, because she did not want him to realize the extent of her wealth and connections.

That meant that she had to move swiftly. She did not plan to see him tonight. She intended to go directly to her uncle, Brett D'Archand, so that he could drum up divorce papers tomorrow. Brett was a fabulously wealthy man, which meant he was a very powerful man. She would not confront Slade until she had divorce papers in her hand, hopefully by tomorrow evening. And she would get his signature. If he dared to refuse, he would have a fight on his hands the likes of which he could not win. She would bring all of her family into it, she would bring all of their power against him.

He did not deserve an ounce of consideration from her, yet she shifted uneasily. Thinking of how he could so easily be destroyed by her uncles, her father, and grandfather combined was more than unpleasant. She had to be honest with herself. She despised him—she
did. But it was not like her to seek vengeance. She could not. She did not hate him enough for that. She would settle the divorce herself. Somehow the idea of Slade standing alone against her family distressed her.

Edward did not know of her plans. She was not even sure if he knew that she intended to divorce his brother, although she thought that Rick would have probably told him. She turned to Edward, wondering what his reaction to her question would be. “Would you like to spend the night at my uncle's? It will not be an inconvenience—in fact, it will be a pleasure.”

Edward looked startled. “Your uncle's?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Didn't you know that I have family here? Brett D'Archand, the shipping magnate, is my uncle. I will be staying with him, of course.”

“Don't you think you should go to your husband?”

Regina's eyes flashed. “No, I do not.”

Edward was silent for a moment. “I see. And when are you planning on seeing Slade? I mean, I can only assume that that is the reason we have come to the city.”

“Tomorrow, I think.” She was reserved. She did not want to encourage Edward into venturing more deeply into this topic.

Edward could only be gallant. “Would you like me to stay at your uncle's so I can take you to my brother tomorrow?” His voice was soft, despite her tone.

Regina bit her lip. How could he guess that despite the anger, she was just a little bit frightened at the thought of confronting Slade? “You really don't have to do that.”

Edward smiled; he was handsome enough to cause the three matronly ladies sitting on the other side of the aisle, who had been stealing peeks at him all afternoon, to turn and stare. Edward gave them all a dimpled grin before continuing. “It will be my pleasure.”

Regina couldn't help thinking that if Slade had one ounce of his brother's compassion she would not be in this mess.

The train finally stopped and they disembarked. A
steward brought their bags and helped them to the depot's doors, where Regina saw Edward slip him a silver half-dollar. Tipping was expected, of course, but she was surprised that Edward would be so generous—too generous, in fact. A nickel would have sufficed. And Edward had no wealth that she knew of.

Passengers were crowding the street. A dozen hansoms were lined up, waiting to pick up fares, while a crush of cable cars and horse-drawn trolleys offered slower public transportation to those who preferred it. Moments later they were in a cab and Regina had given her uncle's address on California Street.

“Nob Hill?” Edward asked.

“Yes,” Regina said, knowing what he was thinking. Nob Hill was lined with spectacular and ostentatious mansions. It hadn't always been that way. When Regina had first come to San Francisco as a little girl, her uncle had resided there, his forty-room home towering over most of the other residences on the street. Several years ago Regina had returned to the city and was shocked to find her uncle's home now greatly reduced in stature, for massive mansions lined California Street, each one bigger than its neighbor.

“Charles Mann lives on Nob Hill, too,” Edward said quietly.

Regina tensed. Because she had not discussed Slade, she did not even know where he lived, or where he worked, or what he did precisely. She hesitated, then was careful to keep her tone impersonal. “And Slade?”

“He rents a modest home on Gough Street, although he is hardly ever there. He works late at the office more nights than not, and even goes there at ungodly hours. And he often dines with Mann. I think his house is used solely for sleeping.”

Regina swallowed. It was now close to six o'clock. She imagined that soon they might be passing by Mann's residence and that Slade might even be within. She was agitated at the thought. She realized she was perspiring slightly, although it was quite cool out because of the summer fog. “Where is his office?”

“His office is with Mann's, in the Feldcrest Building—which Mann happens to own.”

Regina stared out the hansom's window, barely seeing Market Street as they crossed it. The evening rush to get home was not yet over and passing through the intersection took ten minutes. She knew nothing about her husband's life in San Francisco. She did not want to know. But she said, “I don't understand his relationship with this Mr. Mann.”

Edward regarded her thoughtfully. “Mann took him in when he was a hoodlum of fifteen.”

Regina tried not to be interested, but she was. “What is a hoodlum?”

“There are gangs which rove the streets of the city after dark—and sometimes during the day. They prey on the Chinese mostly, but also on other foreigners. Since the depression, there's been a lot of anger. People feel that the Chinese are responsible for the depression, for the lack of jobs. I doubt it's true.”

“That's sad.”

“Yes, it is. I personally think they're good for the city, they're hard and efficient workers, but I wouldn't state such an unpopular opinion publicly. Anyway, the hoodlums are nothing for you to worry about, not unless you go alone to Chinatown at odd hours.” He flashed her his winning smile. “Slade came here when he ran away from Miramar as a boy. He was penniless and on the streets and he took up with a gang. Fortunately the gang chose to rob Mann. Mann is an interesting fellow, as you shall see. He's about sixty now—back then he was just out of his prime, but he also grew up in the streets, though it was New York City's east side, not San Francisco's back alleys. He chased the gang off, apprehending Slade. That's how their relationship began.”

Regina did not want to be interested. She was very, very angry with her unscrupulous, immoral husband. But she felt a pang of sympathy for a boy who had been rejected so often that he had run away from home and taken to the streets as a ‘hoodlum.' Despite herself, she asked, “What happened?”

“I guess Mann saw the good in Slade, or maybe he saw some of his own misspent youth. Instead of turning him over to the police, he took him home. Gave him a bed, a meal, and a job. Slade started out as a messenger boy. Today he runs a good deal of Mann's empire.”

Regina blinked. “Just what is it that Mr. Mann does?”

“He made his money in the Comstock during the silver rush in the late fifties and early sixties. And he was smart enough to sell out before it collapsed. He didn't sit on his money either. During the silver-boom years, he owned half of Virginia City. Today he owns the Mann Grande Hotel, which is second only to Ralston's Palace Hotel, as well as the Rancho Nicasio, which is the largest ranch in Marin, and probably a tenth of this city's property. I hear he's a very big investor in the Octopus.”

“The Octopus?” Regina said weakly. Slade was this entrepreneur's right-hand man?

“The Southern Pacific is fondly—or not so fondly—called the Octopus,” Edward said. “It owns most of the state's transportation, thousands of miles of track, millions of acres of land, and is rather influential in state politics.” He smiled wryly. “And that is an understatement, Regina. Anyway, Charles Mann is quite a somebody. He's one of the richest men in San Francisco.”

Regina said nothing. But she was even angrier. How dare Slade! He presented himself as if he were one of those hoodlums, but he was no hoodlum—oh, no! Why did he go to such trouble to present himself as a down-and-out rebel when he was actually a respectable businessman?

Edward apparently was reading her thoughts. “Slade sheds his real life like a snake sheds its winter skin whenever he comes home. You might have some trouble recognizing him, Regina.”

“That's neither here nor there,” she said briskly. “Frankly, I wouldn't care if he was Charles Mann himself.”

Edward winced.

“We're here,” she said, recognizing her uncle's home. While Edward paid the cabbie, Regina alighted, trembling with relief. Brett's home loomed as a sudden and very welcoming refuge, and she wanted to fly up the walk and up the steep front steps and into his arms or her aunt's embrace. But she waited for Edward and the cabbie, who brought their bags.

Her relatives were expecting her, for she had sent a wire just after the disastrous interview with Rick in which she had learned of Slade's desertion, explaining that she was fine and she would be arriving in the city as soon as possible. Still, Regina was surprised when the front door was opened by her aunt herself.

Her aunt Storm, a very tall, stately, handsome woman in her late fifties, shrieked like a young girl and hugged her with abandon, pulling her into the foyer and leaving Edward to amble in on his own. Storm rocked her. Regina clung, finding herself near tears. How she felt like spilling her heart out to her beloved aunt!

“Where have you been?” Storm cried. “We have been sick, sick with worry! Do you know your poor parents are in the middle of the Atlantic this very minute, with no hope of receiving word that you are all right until they arrive in New York?”