Secrets (24 page)

“Mrs. Delanza, I fear you have jumped to a terribly wrong conclusion.”

“Please.” Regina gestured at the door.

Xandria rose gracefully to her feet. She was much taller than Regina. “I am not involved, in any way, with your husband! Except as a dear friend.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Delanza, Slade is like a brother to me! I have known him, and cared for him, for ten long years! Since he was a sulky little rebel! Do you really think we would carry on in such a manner beneath my father's nose?”

Regina was horrified as the woman's full identity began to dawn on her. “Who is your father?”

Again Xandria looked surprised. “Charles Mann.”

The floor beneath Regina's feet felt as if it had tilted precariously. She sat down hard on the sofa. “Oh, Lord!”

Xandria sat beside her. “Are you all right?”

Regina could not believe the enormity of her mistake. She was red with mortification. She had been so quick to accuse and condemn. Uncontrollable jealousy had propelled her, not common sense. She was appalled with herself. “Oh! Please forgive me!”

Kindly, Xandria patted her hand. “There is nothing to forgive. Of course you could not know I was Charles's daughter. Stupid Slade! Why didn't he tell you?”

She bit her lip, not daring to look her guest in the eye yet. “He did not know what I was thinking.” And she prayed he would never know she had made such a terrible mistake.

“Mrs. Delanza,” Xandria said, suddenly smiling and amused, “do not fear. Your secret is safe with me.”

Overwrought, close to tears, Regina finally met the other woman's gaze. Xandria winked. “Thank you!” Regina cried.

“I want nothing more than to be your friend,” Xandria said simply.

Regina looked at her hands. “I see.” She had to face the other woman, who had eased her heart immeasurably, and who was her co-conspirator now. “Mrs. Kingsly, I have erred greatly in my judgment of you. I am sorry,” she began.

Xandria shrugged, smiling. “Do not dwell on it. I will let you in on my own secret. Other women do not like me. Especially because I am a widow who has chosen to remain unmarried. They see me as a threat. I can understand how you could make such a mistake.” She laughed, the sound husky, genuine. “But it
is
funny. I can see that you do not know your husband very well.”

“No, I do not.”

Xandria gave her a pointed look. “Slade does not dabble in women.”

A silence followed.

Regina could not restrain herself. Her aunt had said the exact same thing although in different words. “He does not?”

“No, he does not.” Xandria stared at her. “Slade is not only highly moral, he is a prude.”

Regina stared.

“You see, I have come here as Slade's champion.”

Regina began to tremble. Slade's eyes, intensely passionate, and his haunting question—
Could you come to care for me again?
—seemed to threaten her resolve.

Abruptly Regina stiffened. She would not be seduced by his words. As she had pointed out to him, actions were significant, not mere words. She had mistaken his relationship with Xandria Kingsley, but he had deserted her. Had he cared one jot for her, even thinking her to be Elizabeth, he would have never been able to leave her after their wedding night.

Still, Regina raised her gaze to Xandria, when she should have sent the other woman away. But a part of her was thoroughly, breathlessly curious about what she might reveal about Slade. Cautiously, Regina said, “I do not think Slade is a prudish man.”

Xandria laughed. “May I call you Regina? May we speak informally?”

Regina nodded, unable to stop herself from recalling their wedding night. There had been no prudery then.

“Slade is like a brother to me. If I were not so fond of him, and so concerned for him, I would not bother to impose upon you. I cannot tell you how delighted I was to find that he had finally taken a wife! And then I was shocked when I realized that he had not brought you back to the city with him, and worse, that you were living apart.”

“He abandoned me, Mrs. Kingsly,” Regina said simply, her color high. She regarded her hands, clasped in her lap.

“He hurt you.”

Regina looked up. Her anguish, which just would not fade as easily as the anger had, showed. “Yes.”

Xandria leaned forward. “Do you love him?”

Regina hesitated, afraid to inspect her own turbulent emotions. “I…I did. I…I d-don't know.”

Xandria took her hands. “Slade is a dear, fine man! The two of you are made for each other! Trust me!”

“You are a stranger, even if a well-intentioned one. Please, do not ask me to trust you. Do not ask me to return to Slade. I cannot risk another broken heart, especially as this one is far from mended yet.”

“Damn that Slade,” Xandria said with a flash of anger. Then she sighed. “He is not an easy man. I know that as well as you. But could you not try a reconciliation? Slade is worth it, my dear. And if you do not go back to him, sooner or later you will lose him to someone else.”

Regina was startled to find that the thought of losing him to another woman was very provocative. She did not like that idea in the least. “I don't know.”

“Let me tell you about your husband, being as you do not know him that well. He is a dedicated, loyal man. Terribly dedicated and terribly loyal. He has been offered huge bribes to betray my father by Father's worst enemies, people who would love to see him fall, but he has refused. He has been offered great sums of money just to leave Charles, to work for the competition, but he has refused. Indeed, he works for Charles when he could be working for himself! Slade is selfless. He has no real interest in himself.”

Regina could only stare.

Xandria saw her surprise, and her look became determined. “You did not know? He is loyal to me, too. If a man even looks at me the wrong way, well, Slade has dealt a blow or two, I am embarrassed to admit, on my behalf. You are his wife now. Even estranged, I can tell you that you have his complete loyalty.” Xandria smiled slightly. “Which is why it's rather amusing that you thought me to be his lover. Slade would never break his marriage vows to you. Never.”

Regina was helpless to stop the heady thrill that swept her at the thought of having Slade's fidelity—forever. “But he left me. That is not loyalty.”

“I understand that he thought you were James's fiancée.”

Ashamed, Regina nodded. How much had Slade told her?

“Slade is not a man who could marry the woman his brother once loved without being in turmoil over it. Assuming, of course, that he loved you himself.”

“He does not love me.”

Xandria raised an elegant brow. “That, of course, is something you would know, not I.”

Regina met her stare. It was clear that Xandria thought Slade to be in love with her! “You are wrong,” she said unsteadily. And there was no more fooling herself now. Her heart beat wildly with hope.

“Slade has been oblivious to all the fine ladies in this city for all the years that I have known him. There has never been a single romance, not one. And,” Xandria went on candidly, “he does not keep a mistress. He does not even frequent saloons. He really is a most unusual—and much sought-after—man. But no lady has been able to win even his interest, much less his heart…”

Regina could supply the final missing words:
until you
. Xandria was determined to make a point. Regina was afraid to let her.

Xandria was barreling on enthusiastically. “And I cannot omit the fact that he is generous. So terribly generous! He is not a wealthy man, you must understand that, for he works for Charles on a salary. He is very frugal, he doesn't spend a penny on himself. He claims his needs are few. Yet what does he do with his savings? He gives most of it away!”

“He does what?”

“He is modest, so he will never tell you this, but the new orphanage in the Mission District was built solely by him. He alone contributed all of the funds necessary for the project. Over the years I have noticed that he
seems to have a particular fondness for orphans.”

“A fondness for orphans,” Regina echoed. And she wanted to cry. Such an inclination was overpoweringly eloquent. Slade obviously identified with these poor homeless orphans.

Regina thought about the businessman she had confronted in his office, about the gentleman the fine ladies of San Francisco hoped to lure. She thought about the man who worked hard and loyally for another, not for himself, who lived frugally, who built orphanages. She did not know her husband. He was a stranger. It was as if Slade led a double life, and perhaps he did. Yet was it really such a surprise? Hadn't she seen his goodness from the start? Her very first impression of him had been that he was a hero and a gentleman, despite the facade he'd chosen to hide behind. Perhaps she knew all she needed to know about him after all.

“Do not give up on Slade,” Xandria said softly.

Regina shook her head, until she was able to speak. “I knew, I knew all along, that he was a good man.” She wiped her eyes. He was more than a good man, but damn him—he had left her, abandoned her, deserted her, making her life unbearable.

I would have never left you if I'd known
.

Regina sucked in her breath. Could her masquerading as Elizabeth have really been so important to him? Did she dare take another chance on the complicated man who was her husband? There would be no in-betweens if she remained his wife. There would be only glorious happiness—or horrendous agony. Could she risk heartbreak again?

“If you sit here in your uncle's house you will never know him,” Xandria said. “If Slade gives you your divorce and you return to England, you will never know him.”

Regina looked at her, her resolve crumbling. Or had the disintegration already begun, yesterday in Slade's office, when she had first seen him again?

“Do not act in such haste.” Xandria squeezed her hand. “And come to supper tonight. Come, please. Get
to know your husband a little bit better before you decide what it is you will do.”

That was only rational. It made perfect sense. But there was nothing rational about the incipient excitement flurrying to life within her breast. Mutely, Regina nodded, accepting Xandria's invitation.

I
t was five minutes past seven. Slade tried to look indifferent as he stole a glance at the Tiffany clock, set in heavy eighteen-carat gold, sitting on the white marble mantle. He poured himself a bourbon, his back to the center of the spacious salon where Xandria, Charles, and Edward sat, awaiting the last guest.

Edward and Charles were discussing one of Mayor Phelan's reform proposals, which was aimed at reducing some of the corruption in the city's government. Xandria was unusually quiet. Slade moved to one of the tall double windows, pulling aside the heavy emerald-green drape. He dimly heard the conversation. The afternoon fog had come in with the tide, but it was not thick, it never was, and he could clearly see the quiet street below. It was still light out, but by eight the sun would disappear and the city would be enfolded in twilight's mauve shadows.

She was late. He wondered if she were even coming.

Xandria had stopped by his office that afternoon to invite him for supper—and to inform him that his wife would also be a guest. Slade's reaction had been incredulity, excitement, and apprehension.

Yesterday he had made the decision not to divorce her. It had been spontaneous. Since then he had had
plenty of time to dwell upon the myriad of possibilities a marriage might hold for them. He was torn. On the one hand there were dreams, unspeakable dreams, impossible dreams, and on the other cold, cruel reality.

Any feeling of betrayal for her deceit was long gone. She had not betrayed him. She had deceived him because she was afraid the real Elizabeth Sinclair would have married him in her stead had she told the truth. She had withheld her identity and married him because she had been fond of him. How easily he could forgive her!

But her feelings were in the past. Now she was furious and adamant about a divorce. Apparently she did not believe that had he known, he would have never abandoned her so cruelly. He thought that he could spend a dozen years convincing her—and it would not be too great a price to pay for their future. The thought would not leave him in peace:
if she had cared about him once, it could happen again
. He had always been a stubborn man, a determined man. It was a Delanza trait. Did he dare find out just how far his patience extended? For her, he thought it might span a lifetime.

But the circumstances had changed and he dared not delude himself for an instant. His wife was no longer an amnesiac named Elizabeth Sinclair. James no longer stood in their way, but now, it seemed as if the obstacles facing them might be even greater. She was a British aristocrat and a Bragg heiress. Under the best of circumstances, much less the worst, they did not suit each other. Even if he did succeed in bringing about a reconciliation, then what? She had already demanded a divorce just days after their wedding. Even if she did come to care for him again, how long would it last? A year? Two years, or even five? Could an upper-class noblewoman like her be happy with the kind of life he could offer her? Could she really be happy with him?

He was afraid. The possibilities, diametrically opposed, were both exhilarating and terrifying. What would the future hold? Happiness, or heartbreak?

It seemed as if he was determined to find out. Although it would have been safer, so much safer,
to have signed those damn divorce papers, he was not going to do it. He could not bring himself to the point of irrevocably severing their relationship. He was unwilling to push her away, unwilling to walk away himself. Perhaps he was the one now being the fool. But it was too late, the die was cast.

Suddenly he spotted a luxurious carriage pulled by two fancy grays coming up California Street. His heart jumped. He was inexplicably nervous.

He turned as casually as possible from the window, straightening his necktie and cuffs. He had donned an elegantly cut tailcoat for supper, wanting to appear his best and hoping that his wife would be impressed. Meeting Xandria's eye, he managed a smile, hoping she couldn't see too much in his expression. The witch had dared to tell his wife that he was a prude. She had mercilessly teased him today with little bits and pieces of the conversation she'd had with Regina. She had even hinted that his wife would be amenable to his overtures. He could not believe it, but the mere thought generated no small amount of excitement. And bossy as Xandria was, she'd told him to be on his best, most charming behavior. Xandria was a busy woman, the least likely candidate to play matchmaker, but he was grateful for her interference today.

Regina was escorted into the salon by Mann's British butler. Slade tried not to stare as Xandria rose and swiftly went forward to greet her. As always, Regina was heart-stoppingly beautiful. And she had dressed, too. Her gold gown was worn off the shoulder, its fitted bodice crusted with topaz sequins, its draped skirts full and voluptuous. Her hair was upswept, revealing the long, elegant line of her neck, and her bare shoulders were smooth and round and an enticing shade of ivory. Her gown was low-cut but not enough to reveal any cleavage; still, it was enough to remind him of how she had felt in his hands on their wedding night. Regina looked exactly the way one would expect the daughter of an earl to look—elegant, sophisticated, genteel, and stunning. Not a hint of her passionate nature showed,
and Slade could be sure that he was the only man to have ever glimpsed it, to have ever felt it, to have ever shared it. He gave up all his attempts not to stare. An unfamiliar and possessive emotion swelled his chest. Pride.

“Regina, I'm so happy you are here,” Xandria said.

Regina nodded, her gaze slipping past her hostess to cling to Slade. “It was thoughtful of you to invite me.”

“Please, come and meet my father. Charles, this is Slade's wife.” Xandria was beaming.

Charles Mann took both of Regina's hands in his, holding them tightly. “May I kiss the bride?”

Regina returned his intent gaze. She had not been sure what to expect, but what she saw did not surprise her. Charles was an attractive man in his sixties with keen, intelligent eyes and a kind, warm expression. His grip was filled with both pleasure and acceptance. She sensed that he was everything she had imagined him to be, and more. She looked at Slade, standing rigidly by the windows, watching her. He had not moved since she had entered the room. Despite her doubts and despite the circumstances, she was glad he had found a man like this to be his friend.

Slade's eyes held hers. Her heart flipped in response. He said, “Go ahead, Charles.”

Regina offered her cheek for the other man's kiss. Slade's look was intimate, matching his husky tone. She was trying to decipher his mood. She watched him as he crossed the room, his stride casual, yet heading purposefully to her. If her heart had somersaulted before, it was nothing like the acrobatics it now engaged in.

He was breathtakingly handsome, impossibly elegant, so urbane. He was, in short, devastating. She had never seen him in tails before. How could she have thought for a second that this man would not fit in with her friends and acquaintances back home? He would fit in anywhere; he would be at home if he had an audience with the queen.

He paused by her side, not making any attempt to touch her. “Hello, Regina.”

For a moment they stared at each other.

Edward intervened. He strolled forward, standing beside Xandria. “I fear I shall interrupt this monumental reunion.” He smiled at Regina, taking her hand and kissing it. “If my brother is at a loss for words, it is understandable. You are ravishing tonight, sister dear. When Slade shows you off to the city, there is going to be an uproar.”

Regina blushed, but nevertheless found it impossible to keep her gaze from Slade. To her shock, he said softly, “He's right.”

It was a compliment. Regina was so moved she almost burst into tears. Quickly she ducked her head, not wanting him to see how such simple praise could affect her so powerfully. She realized that she was putty in his hands. He had hurt her terribly; now he was pleasing her vastly. She was afraid, afraid he would hurt her again if she dared allow their marriage to continue. But how could she not give him another chance? And wasn't that what she was doing merely by being here now?

They sat in the salon with aperitifs. Although Charles took over the conversation, directing it at her, she was acutely aware of Slade, who had chosen to sit in a chair beside her. Despite the double life he led, she had expected to see some of the old Slade, but there was nothing volatile about him. The tension she felt emanating from him had nothing to do with anger. She was astute enough to know that it had everything to do with her.

“How do you like our beautiful city, my dear?”

“I love it. I always have. I have been here before, visiting my relatives, the D'Archands.”

“Ah, yes. Fine people, Brett and his wife. Tell me, do you know the city well?”

“Not really.”

Charles turned to Slade. “You are not thinking clearly, son. You are neglecting your beautiful bride to see to my affairs? That must be rectified immediately.”

To Regina's surprise, Slade said, “I agree with you, Charles.”

Charles smiled. “Why don't you show her the city? Take her to the Conservatory, wine and dine her on Kearny Street, tour our fabulous museums and art galleries. Take her to Chinatown.” He smiled at Regina. “Have you ever been to Chinatown?”

“No.”

“It's a worthwhile experience.”

Regina glanced at Slade. She found the idea of his escorting her around the city exciting, even though she was supposed to be intent on obtaining a divorce. With every passing second, those intentions were fading.

She was staring at him. It was so hard not to. Slade was not the man she had married at Miramar, not completely, and seeing him like this was proof. She could barely tear her gaze from him. Every encounter they had had since her arrival in the city seemed to fill in the pieces of the puzzle he had kept hidden from her. She itched to know more, so much more, about him.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Slade asked, his expression intense.

Regina was almost incapable of responding. “N-nothing,” she quavered, his gaze making her shiver slightly. “I mean, I have no real plans.”

“I'll pick you up at ten.”

She should tell him no. She should, in fact, get up and leave the house at that very moment. Being with Slade was as dangerous as ever. The truth was, he mesmerized her, he fascinated her, and he had from the moment they had first met. He was making her forget everything, including how badly he had hurt her. Regina followed her heart, praying she would not regret it later. “I'll be ready.”

Slade's eyes gleamed with emotion she was afraid to identify. She hoped it was more than triumph. And Charles clapped his hands in approval. “Very good! And you, Slade, I don't want to see you at the office for the rest of the week!”

 

Charles asked Regina to sit on his right at supper, as the guest of honor. He was smiling, clearly pleased to
be presiding over the small gathering of friends and family. Slade casually took the other seat beside her. She faced Xandria, who was stunning in a very daring and very low-cut gown, one that was blood-red and as straight as an arrow. Edward sat next to her, as handsome as ever and impressively dashing in a white dinner jacket and a black bow tie.

Supper was superb, an eight-course meal prepared by Mann's French chef, who had previously been employed in Paris. The service was flawless, as was the table. It was set in Belgium linens with French crystal and Waterford porcelain. The centerpiece was an exotic tropical bloom that reminded Regina of orange-and-purple birds. Xandria explained that the tropical motif was the rage these days. Regina could have been dining in any aristocrat's home in London.

Her husband was silent during dinner, but it was not the kind of silence she had witnessed at Miramar. On the one hand, he was relaxed in a way she had never before seen him; on the other hand, she was certain that he was as excruciatingly aware of her as she was of him.

Conversation flowed freely along with the bordeaux and sauvignon blanc, both from the Rothschild vineyards in France. Charles, Xandria, and Edward carried on most of it. At the end of supper they lingered over their dessert. Xandria said, “Father, why don't we all enjoy an after-dinner drink together tonight?”

“I don't mind.” Charles looked at Edward and Slade. “Do you mind, gentlemen?”

“Not I,” Edward said, turning his lazy glance on Xandria. “I prefer the company.”

She gave him a warm smile.

“You always prefer the company of females,” Slade said dryly. He was lounging in his seat. Regina's eyes widened when she saw that he had placed his arm on the back of her chair. His sleeve brushed the bare nape of her neck.

“Unlike you,” Edward retorted, “who is hard put to notice even the loveliest of women entering the room.”

Slade smiled. “I noticed tonight.”

Regina's eyes flew to his. He had been drinking red wine quite liberally, but so had all the men. He did not appear in the least bit inebriated. And he
had
noticed her when she had arrived. He had been openly staring.

“Well, if you don't notice your wife, another man will,” Edward said pointedly as they were served sherry and port.

Slade was unperturbed, shifting slightly, and Regina felt his knee against hers beneath the table. She could not even move. Her pulse had been waiting for just such a cue and seemed to riot. “If another man looks at my wife the wrong way, he will be more than sorry. And I am too polite to say in mixed company what his fate would be.”

Regina turned and stared.

Slade smiled at her very slightly. She decided he was just a touch foxed. She was absolutely breathless. Whatever was going on? What kind of mood was this? What did his behavior signify?

Charles interrupted her thoughts. “May I have your attention,” he said, tapping his spoon upon his empty wineglass. Everyone turned to look at him. In the dramatic pause that followed, Regina suddenly had an inkling of what was about to come.