The Heiress (29 page)

Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from trying to win him anyway, Iris recalled with no small amount of regret. Faced with the bankruptcy of her family and mounting pressure to marry an uninteresting man thirty years older than herself, she had thought, hoped, dreamed that Tom might rescue her. She had used her MBA to finagle her way into an internship in the executive offices of Deveraux Shipping Company, and then made herself indispensable to Tom. She had worked impossibly long hours on business matters she had no interest in. She had buoyed Tom’s ego, been as supportive of him as his wife, Grace, should have been in the wake of his own father’s death and the sudden handing of the company to him. Unlike Grace, who had been, in the days before her own meteoric career success, uncomfortable with the trappings of wealth and privilege, Iris had reveled in it. Appreciated it for the gift it was, and the responsibility and yes, duty, it demanded.

But that hadn’t meant she had wanted to marry Randolph Hayes IV. Even if the future of her entire family depended on it. No, she had wanted Tom, with his own newly acquired wealth, to save her from that fate. So she had bided her time, waited until the time was right, and Tom had had both a major business reversal and a
fight with the wife who had never once deserved him, never mind appreciated him, in the same day, and then she had sent out her own SOS. She had called Tom at home around midnight, crying almost incoherently, telling him something terrible had happened, that he had to come to her apartment immediately.

She’d made it sound as if there had been a death, and in a way, there had been—because unless Tom Deveraux saved her, her own life would be over. She’d been waiting for him in a beautiful negligee that revealed much, much more than it hid. She’d told him her father had just sold her to the highest bidder and sobbed in his arms. She’d told him she couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t marry someone who repulsed her. She was flesh and blood. A warm, willing woman. Too young to squander all that unused sexual energy. And to prove it, she made use of everything she had inherently known and given the performance of her life. She made him feel like the most desired man on earth. And it was then, when he had been collapsed on top of her, groaning and coming, in the middle of the living-room floor, that his wife had walked in.

M
ITCH
D
EVERAUX WAITED
for the Deveraux-Heyward Shipping Company promotional tape to end, then hit the stop button on the VCR. “Mom did a great job on the voice-over, didn’t she?” he said proudly.

Tom nodded. He, too, was pleased by the excellence of Grace’s work. “The customers from both companies should feel reassured that the merger is going to benefit us all and result in even better, faster service.”

“Mom refused payment for the half day she spent in the recording studio doing this. She said she couldn’t accept money from family, but I think we should do
something nice for her in exchange. Maybe make a donation to her favorite charity in her name and take her out to dinner. Or I could do the first and you could do the second.”

Tom glanced up from the calendar on his desk. He had a meeting with Iris Templeton in thirty minutes. And though her antique shop was only a few minutes away by car, he didn’t want to be late. This discussion had been too long in coming as it was. “Tell me you’re not matchmaking,” Tom said, giving his second-oldest son a stern, warning look. He’d had enough of that from Amy over the years. Now that she had finally stopped trying to force new life into Tom’s relationship with Grace, he didn’t want his three sons picking up the baton.

“You want me to stop beating around the bush and get straight to the point?”

“Please.”

“We four kids have talked. Now that we know what happened to cause such big problems with you and Mom, we understand why you couldn’t be together and make things work back then.”

Tom was aware of that. After weeks of avoiding him like the plague, his four legitimate children were slowly but surely beginning to forgive him for what he had done, and coming back into his life once again. He knew they were still disillusioned and disappointed in him, and probably always would be. His involvement with Iris made him human, and they didn’t want a father that flawed. But they were stuck with him, just as he could never separate himself from what he had done. And gradually, to Tom’s relief, all four of them and their spouses were coming to realize that.

“But that’s no reason you and Mom couldn’t make things work now,” Mitch continued hopefully.

Tom wished that were so. He gave his son a rueful half smile. “It’s not that easy, Mitch.” He and Grace had made reconciliation attempts before, only to have them fail. It was true they had both changed in the past few months. But had they changed enough?

“It could be,” Mitch argued with the enthusiasm he usually reserved for two things, business and his new wife, Lauren, “if you and Mom forgave each other and agreed to move on, start fresh.”

Tom paused, not sure what his son was referring to. “What would I need to forgive your mother for?”

Mitch shrugged. “There must have been something. I know you, Dad. You’re not a dishonorable man. You wouldn’t have turned to another woman and cheated on Mom without a darn good reason.”

W
AS THERE EVER A GOOD REASON
for infidelity? Tom wondered as he cut short the conversation with his son and walked out to his car. At the moment it had happened, God knew he had felt justified, because he had believed his marriage to Grace was over in every way that counted. And for the life of him he hadn’t been able to figure out why she had stopped loving him and started shutting him out the way she had.

The start to the relationship couldn’t have been sweeter. Tom still recalled walking into that ice-cream shop near campus, the summer before his senior year of college, with a group of his friends. Grace had been working behind the counter. Her blond hair had been long back then, and it had been clasped in a bouncy ponytail. She’d had to wear a silly peppermint-striped
uniform and matching hat, but she had looked adorable nevertheless.

Tom had been instantly smitten, and began flirting with her immediately. Grace flirted back, but declined a date. Tom didn’t care that she was the only daughter of parents who ran a dry-cleaning store in a small South Carolina town, or that she’d had a very modest upbringing and was at that moment, working two part-time jobs to help pay for her college education. All he knew was that she was the sweetest, prettiest, kindest woman he had ever met. And that he wanted her to be his. And his alone.

He started going in for ice cream whenever she was working. He began studying there. Grace, who had agreed to be just friends with him, spent her breaks with him. But by the end of the summer, even that wasn’t enough, and they started going out—platonically, of course—every single night she wasn’t working and sometimes when she was.

By Christmas, they were stealing kisses in the library. And by spring, they both knew they wanted to be together in every way. But Grace couldn’t—wouldn’t—sleep with him without benefit of marriage. Her view was rather old-fashioned amidst the sexual revolution that had been going on at college campuses at the time, but Tom hadn’t minded. He had loved her enough to wait.

They eloped the night after his college graduation, primarily because Grace didn’t want any part of a big society wedding. And then moved to Charleston, where they purchased a house in the Historic District, close to the mansion they eventually inherited from his parents. Tom went to work. Grace stayed home and had babies, one right after another.

They’d had everything. Each other. Four kids they both adored. Money. Prestige. Social stature. But Grace still hadn’t been happy. The closer he tried to get to her, the more she had pulled away. Until they were barely sleeping together even before she got pregnant again and miscarried shortly after Amy was born.

Tom still recalled how much that had hurt. Night after night, he had climbed into bed with her, only to have her coldly turn away. She hadn’t wanted him, hadn’t wanted to even kiss.

Looking back now, Tom could see Grace had been depressed, but he also knew it had been more. That there was something fundamentally wrong with their relationship for her not to want to make love to him, except to make another baby.

And that was when Iris had entered his life. Five years younger than he, she had made him feel young and virile, and yes—wanted, every second of every day. His ego had needed that in the wake of such constant rejection.

Still, he wondered if he would ever have strayed if he had been a little older and a lot wiser, or if Grace hadn’t just turned him down for what had seemed like the thousandth time since their marriage, when Iris called that night and asked him to come over.

Not that it mattered now, Tom sighed as he parked his car and began walking down the street toward Templeton’s Fine Antiques. He and Iris had gotten themselves and Daisy in this mess and now they had to deal with it.

Iris was waiting for him. She let him in the shop and led the way back to her private office. His own emotions in turmoil, Tom handed her the DNA test results. As expected, Iris perused them without a flicker of emo
tion on her perfectly made-up face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tom asked quietly.

Iris handed him the medical report and retorted impassively, “Because it wouldn’t have done any good. You wouldn’t have given me what I wanted and needed to be able to keep Daisy. You wouldn’t have married me.”

Tom knew there had been more than one way to live up to his responsibility to Iris and Daisy, and he was filled with resentment at the opportunity denied him. “You didn’t give me a chance to do what was necessary to take care of the both of you,” he said angrily.

Iris sighed, abruptly looking unbearably weary. “I didn’t need to,” she told him sorrowfully. “I saw the expression on your face when Grace walked in on us that night. The regret and shame. I hadn’t ever expected you to love me, Tom. Not in the way you obviously loved Grace. But I had hoped that we could forge an alliance that was built on our similar backgrounds and social responsibilities. It didn’t take me long to realize that was simply wishful thinking on my part. The truth was, when I was your protégée you were all too happy to be my friend, but once we slept together, your guilt changed everything. You couldn’t bear to be anywhere near me, couldn’t look me in the eye. And I knew, even if I had been able to convince you to leave your family and make me your wife, that there was no way we could build a suitable home for Daisy. So we moved on. Both of us. And for that, Tom,” she told him earnestly, “I still have no regret.”

“E
VERYTHING IS READY
, Mr. Deveraux,” Theresa Owens said. “The table is set for three, the salad and dessert are already on the table, the hot foods are on the warmer on the table in the dining room, just as you asked.” Theresa paused, pretending she didn’t know something was up, otherwise Tom wouldn’t be so secretive about the exact nature of his dinner and so tense. “So, if it’s all right, I’ll be leaving for the evening as soon as your guests arrive.”

“Thank you, Theresa.” Tom smiled at the woman who was as much family now as housekeeper. “I appreciate all you’ve done,” he told her sincerely.

“No problem.” Theresa headed back to the kitchen.

A half minute later, the doorbell rang. Tom heard voices, then Theresa showed Daisy and Jack into his study. She asked if anyone needed anything—they didn’t—then excused herself. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall. In the distance, the back door opened and then shut. “So what is this about?” Daisy asked without preamble.

Tom had envisioned a more cordial meeting. “Why don’t you two have a seat?” He gestured to the cherry leather sofa in front of the fireplace, and sat down in one of the two wing chairs that flanked either end of the coffee table.

Daisy crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the mantel. “I’d prefer to stand.”

So, Tom thought, sighing inwardly, it was going to be like this. Not that he should be surprised. Daisy always had been a rebel and a half, never more so when threatened or upset. “The DNA tests are back.” He handed a manila file containing the information over to Daisy. “It’s official. You are my daughter, Daisy.”

For a second, Tom thought Daisy was going to burst into tears. Blinking furiously, she turned away from him and wordlessly perused the papers he had given her. “Fine.” She handed them back to Tom as if she could have cared less. “If that’s all—” She gave Tom another indifferent glance, then turned toward the door, looking ready to dash out.

Jack had been sitting on the sofa, but suddenly he was on his feet, too, moving subtly but deliberately to block Daisy’s exit. Folding his arms across his chest, standing with his legs braced apart, Jack said, “I think your father probably has a lot more he’d like to say to you.”

Daisy glared at Jack, looking as if she would like to deck him for taking Tom’s side. “He’s not my father,” she stated icily. “Paternity tests do nothing to remedy that.”

“You’re right,” Tom agreed, remaining in his seat with effort, when his every instinct was to go to Daisy and take her in his arms and welcome her to the family that way. Knowing, however, that was the last thing she wanted, or would accept at that point, he continued talking to her and Jack calmly, “Which is why I’ve asked the lawyers who handle the family trusts to create one in your name, Daisy. It’s going to be equal to those of all my children.”

“Which is…?”

“Twenty-five million dollars, to be used however, whenever you wish.”

Jack looked impressed, but Daisy regarded Tom even more suspiciously. “How do the others feel about that?”

Tom shrugged. “I haven’t told them.”

Daisy walked toward the bay window that overlooked the formal garden. “Won’t they resent my taking part of Deveraux-family funds?”

Tom met Daisy’s glare head-on. He wasn’t about to let Daisy make this about anything except what it was. “There’s plenty to go around,” he returned just as succinctly.

“So in other words, it costs you nothing,” Daisy surmised sarcastically.

“Daisy,” Jack scolded.

“Let’s go into the dining room, shall we?” Tom suggested, rising from his chair and leading the way down the hall to the formally decorated room. Three places had been set at one end of the antique mahogany table that sat sixteen.

A mutinous look on her face, Daisy sat in the chair Jack pulled out for her. Tom took his place at the head of the table. Jack sat opposite his wife while Tom poured them all some Merlot. “I realize this isn’t going to be easy,” Tom said as the three of them unfolded their napkins and put them across their laps. “But I’m willing to try my hardest to make it up to you, Daisy. The question is—” he regarded her steadily “—are you prepared to meet me halfway?”

D
AISY HAD EXPECTED
Tom Deveraux to try and convince her that they should just forget the way he had
abandoned her. She’d even figured he might give her a little money to ease his conscience—although not quite the millions he’d put in the trust fund. She hadn’t expected him to go all fatherly on her the moment he had confirmation that she was indeed his offspring, but that was exactly what he was doing. And Daisy didn’t know quite how to handle that. She had never been good with authority figures. Authority figures with guilty feelings they were trying to appease as quickly and easily as possible was something else indeed. “What do you mean, meet you halfway?” Daisy echoed as she dragged her fork through the artfully arranged spinach salads. Did Tom expect her to treat him with gratitude, respect, forgiveness, what?

“Are you willing to work on our relationship?”

Daisy had never been any good at making familial connections. Unlike the famously loving and loyal Deveraux clan, she simply had no talent for forging close and loving bonds with people. And the more intimate an attachment was supposed to be, the less able she was to further—or even maintain—it. She didn’t know why that was. She just knew she got scared when people tried to be too touchy-feely with her. She liked casual relationships that didn’t demand much in the way of personal confessions or familiarity. The kind that were low maintenance and always stayed the same. Easy and effortless. The kind that didn’t let her get hurt when people kept secrets from her and looked at her as if there was something wrong with her that they didn’t want her to know. Now, of course, she knew what that something was—it was her illegitimacy, the fact she was and always would be “Iris’s mistake” to Richard, a source of shame and regret to Iris, someone who caused too much trouble within her family for her
brother Connor’s taste, and last but not least, the “Templeton heir” that Charlotte had never stopped worrying over.

“I don’t see the need for that,” Daisy said as she speared a mushroom. “Unless you’re planning to declare to the entire world I’m your daughter.”

“I want that…” Tom said.

Here it comes,
Daisy thought. The crushing disappointment and further disillusionment she had been expecting from the get-go.

“Then I spoke with Iris.”

Jack looked as curious as Daisy felt about that. “When?” Daisy asked.

“Earlier this evening,” Tom confirmed. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “Iris pointed out to me that you are not only my biological daughter, but the half sister to my other four children, who happen to be the offspring of one of the most famous women in America.” Tom’s lips compressed as he continued quietly, “For years, people have speculated why Grace and I divorced—”

“And I’m the reason,” Daisy cut in bitterly, realizing once more she had done nothing but made other people miserable just by existing.

“My infidelity was the reason,” Tom corrected Daisy archly. “Grace couldn’t get over it. And I didn’t understand why at the time. Now I do.” Tom paused to give Jack a man-to-man glance before zeroing in on Daisy once again. “We don’t want this to end up in the tabloids, Daisy. And if I come right out and acknowledge you publicly, that is what will happen. Your face will be on scandal sheets, not just here in the United States, but in Britain and everywhere else.”

“So you are proposing what?” Daisy demanded, her
appetite disappearing. She looked at Tom, suddenly feeling unbearably weary.

“That you and I and Jack spend time together. Because Jack is legal counsel for the Deveraux-Heyward Shipping Company, and we’re in the midst of implementing a complicated merger with Heyward Shipping, we could do it without raising a lot of eyebrows. And then once we are seen together a lot publicly, people will assume we’ve become socially compatible, as well.”

In other words, another cover-up, with me at the center, Daisy thought.

“So Jack and I will be known as close family friends of the Deveraux family,” Daisy surmised, knowing this was what Jack had wanted for himself for a long time. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted. And that had Jack not married her, it probably never would have happened. He would have remained Tom’s loyal employee and nothing more.

“Except you and I and the rest of the family will know you are much, much more,” Tom said quietly.

Daisy felt the pulse points pounding in her neck as she thought about all the lies this new ruse would entail. “And where does Iris figure into this?” she asked tightly.

Reluctantly, Tom admitted, “Iris thinks it would be best to simply leave things as is.”

Daisy swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “So, in other words, she never plans to publicly acknowledge me as her daughter, either.”

Tom hesitated before continuing gently, “She doesn’t think it would help anyone to do so. And I have to say, after listening to her side of things, I agree. We
both want to protect you, Daisy. You’ve been hurt enough already.”

Daisy couldn’t disagree with that. Nor could she deny she needed some sort of closure to all this, some way to put it behind her, and move on. What Tom was suggesting seemed likely to do just that. And given that she wasn’t likely to ever get what she wanted—two parents who really loved her and were unashamed to call her their child—she figured she should just cut her losses. “What should I call you—in private?” Daisy asked finally, aware that although she was still sitting there calmly eating her salad, her heart felt as if it had just been torn in two.

Tom didn’t even have to think about that. “How about Tom?” he suggested cordially.

Not Dad.

Not Father.

Just Tom.

Of course.

“I
THOUGHT YOU’D BE
happier,” Jack said as they left Tom Deveraux’s house.

Determined not to let anyone know just how devastated she was, Daisy breezed through the rosebushes that sat just inside the black wrought-iron fence that marked off the Deveraux property from others on the street.

“But you don’t look anywhere near satisfied with the way things have turned out,” Jack continued.

And why should she be? Daisy thought resentfully. “In case you didn’t notice, Jack, I was just abandoned yet again,” Daisy informed him as they walked to the end of the driveway.

Jack hit the unlock button on his remote. “Tom isn’t doing that.”

Ignoring Jack’s frown, she climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV and settled behind the wheel. “Sure he is,” she said as Jack climbed reluctantly into the passenger side. “He’s just doing it in a more morally acceptable way so he doesn’t feel so guilty.”

Jack sighed in obvious frustration and handed over the keys. Daisy started the vehicle and drove through the gates. “He’s trying to protect you,” Jack said, taking Tom’s side for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Both hands circling the wheel, Daisy stomped on the accelerator with more than necessary force. “He’s trying to protect himself and Grace and his kids and his company and everyone else who matters.”

Jack glowered at her impatiently. “Including you.”

Daisy shook her head and forced herself to drive more calmly. “I know you think he’s been generous,” she said.

“Given the size of that trust fund he laid on you, more than generous,” Jack countered.

“But money doesn’t buy happiness,” Daisy asserted stubbornly.

“Maybe not, but at least you won’t have to worry about finances.” Jack messed with the stereo until he found a station he liked. “You can get rid of that junk heap you’re driving and buy something else.”

“I like my car,” Daisy said stubbornly as they approached the highway that would take them to the beach. “It’s fine. Although it was a little easier to spot in parking lots when it was two different colors instead of just one.”

“He’s not just giving you money. He’s offering you time and attention and doing his best to make amends.”

Daisy gripped the steering wheel. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Jack shrugged. “Then explain it to me.”

Daisy sighed, glad there wasn’t that much traffic at 10:00 p.m. “My whole life I’ve felt like a source of shame to Charlotte and Richard. I didn’t understand why. I knew, at least in the beginning, when I was younger, that I hadn’t done anything to deserve it, but I knew just the same that there was something about me that embarrassed them and made them fearful and uncomfortable. It was as if they were always waiting for something to happen to bring them even more humiliation than they had already suffered due to what they considered my outrageous behavior. I didn’t know what that was, of course, back then, I just felt like I was this bad seed they had adopted. And they were disappointed they couldn’t break my unacceptable, non-blue-blood roots.”

“Except you are blue-blooded,” Jack pointed out as Daisy drove across the causeway that led to the beach.

Daisy frowned and put on the left-turn signal as she prepared to pass the slow-moving car in front of her. “A blue-blooded bastard born of an illicit, socially embarrassing love affair is not the same as being a full-fledged member of the family.
That
was made all too clear this evening when Tom explained how he was going to accept me as his daughter, but only out of public view, in the trusted circle of the Deveraux clan. So you see,” Daisy continued as she checked her mirrors and steered the SUV into the left lane, “he may have laid out some money for me and told me what I wanted and needed to hear, and what he needed to say,
but in the end, nothing has changed. I’m still, and always will be, a source of immense regret to all those closest to me.”

A
S MUCH AS
J
ACK
was loath to admit it, he knew Daisy had a point. She herself had done nothing to deserve the troubling circumstances of her birth, but she was still being punished, just as he had been punished all those many years by his grandfather for his own mother’s behavior, and the fact that she, too, had given birth to a baby out of wedlock that in the end she had neither wanted nor been able to care for.