The Heiress (33 page)

“No. Just the children. And none of them had scary masks, either. Mother forbade it. Children of that age sometimes get easily spooked, even when they know it’s Halloween and everyone is wearing costumes.”

No joke, Daisy thought. Feeling better, she stood and found her legs would hold her after all.

“What brought you two out here?” Iris asked.

Jack explained about the break-in, what had been taken, as the color slowly left Iris’s face.

“Did Bucky Jerome have anything to do with that?” Iris asked, immediately jumping to the same initial conclusion Daisy and Jack had.

“He says not,” Jack replied.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Iris said, sitting down on the bench Daisy had just vacated.

“Not really,” Daisy put in as she paced to the wine room and back, looking around thoughtfully as she went, “since we don’t know who’s in possession of the information that was stolen from me. Bucky thinks the break-in may have something to do with an auburn-haired woman he saw at the shop giving you a hard time a couple of weeks ago. He thinks she might have
it in for the Templetons. And Jack and I agree because the same woman was loitering outside our beach house, one evening, earlier this week.”

“She bothered you?”

“No. She left before she said anything. But the encounter gave me a weird feeling…” Daisy paused. “So I wondered—Jack and I both did—if you might know the woman’s name, or anything about what might be ticking her off about us.”

For a second, Iris froze, then, still looking a little pale, she slowly shook her head. “No. Although it could be a disgruntled customer, but I usually do what needs to be done to make things right if someone is unhappy, so I don’t think that would be it, but I’ll check my records anyway.”

“Thanks,” Daisy said. “We’d really like a name because then Jack and I could go talk to her.”

Iris nodded, her expression deadly serious. “In the meantime, I’ll talk to Father and ask him if he knows who might have broken into your home and stolen those documents, and then I’ll alert our family attorneys to the situation—they’ll know what to do. Theft and blackmail are against the law. Once people understand we’re not going to be taken advantage of that way, and will in fact happily put them in jail for extortion, they’ll hand over the damaging information rather than try and use it. In the meantime—” Iris looked at Jack and Daisy steadily “—it sounds like the two of you are really going to have to be careful.”

“Your home hasn’t been broken into, then?” Daisy asked Iris. Was it only she who attracted so much trouble?

“No. And neither has Mother and Father’s,” Iris re
torted, standing once again. “But then we both have state-of-the-art security systems.” Iris looked at the two of them sternly. “Really, Daisy, you and Jack should consider investing in the same.”

T
OM WASN’T SURE
what to expect when he stopped to pick up a bottle of wine and headed over to his ex-wife’s rented town house for dinner. To his relief, Grace looked serenely happy when she opened the door and ushered him into the historic home. Built with only two rooms downstairs, located right behind each other, hence the name single house, and two rooms up, the abode was luxuriously appointed and cozy, and perfect for Grace.

Instead of her signature tunic-and-slacks set, she was wearing a long hyacinth-colored skirt and matching sleeveless top in a whisper-soft fabric that clung gently to her slender, womanly curves, and made her look both very feminine and very beautiful. He inhaled the familiar scent of her Chanel N
⁰
5 as he stepped inside and handed her the bottle of wine. “We’re going to be in the sitting room upstairs. I hope that’s all right with you,” Grace said, bypassing the more formal rooms downstairs for the coziness of the upstairs room.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Grace,” Tom said when he walked in and saw the table set with flowers, fine china and a sumptuous dinner for two. On an antique marble-topped buffet, there were several warmers and a salad ready to toss.

“Don’t worry,” Grace teased him, alluding to her
notorious lack of cooking skills. “I had our meal catered.”

Tom grinned. “I wouldn’t have minded if you had cooked.” He would eat her burnt offerings anytime.

Grace indicated Tom should sit down on the sofa opposite the table. “Thank you, but I’m going to need a lot more practice before I subject anyone to my poor attempts again. Although, I must say,” Grace continued with a smile, “the daily lessons I’m getting on my new television show are helping me understand a lot more about the culinary arts.” She picked up the bottle of his favorite Pinot Noir she had already opened. “Care for a glass of wine?”

Tom nodded, touched she would have remembered that and helped himself to one of the appetizers on the coffee table in front of him. “Please.”

“So, tell me about what’s going on with you and Daisy now.” Grace slipped off her sandals and sank down beside him on the sofa, curling her legs up under her and smoothing out her skirt. Grace’s eyes were serious. “I noticed she avoided you today.”

Tom sighed, knowing that was an understatement and then some. He also knew he needed to talk to someone, and there was no one who had ever understood him better than Grace. Tom helped himself to a stuffed mushroom, another of his absolute favorites. “That’s probably because of the conversation we had last night. I let her know that now the DNA tests are in, and we know she’s definitely my child, I am setting up a trust for her equal to that of our children. And that I want a relationship with her. Albeit one conducted under certain public and private parameters, to avoid creating a scandal.”

Grace’s eyes were as filled with sympathy as he had
hoped they would be. “I’m guessing Daisy wasn’t happy with that arrangement?”

“No.” Tom grimaced in frustration.

“She wants to be equal to our children in all respects,” Grace surmised. Looking, Tom thought, surprisingly empathetic toward Daisy’s feelings.

Tom sipped his wine, aware Grace needed to be apprised of the situation, even if it upset her again, as talk like this usually eventually did. He looked at Grace earnestly. “I think Daisy wants all the family secrets out in the open, but I told her that just isn’t going to happen. It’s going to be hard enough for her and me to repair the damage that has been done without being in the public eye at the same time. We have a lot of fence-mending to do. That won’t be possible if the tabloids get involved.”

To Tom’s relief, Grace seemed to understand. “That must be a comfort, to finally know for certain that Daisy is your child and be able to deal with it.”

It would have been a lot better had Grace been with him, Tom thought. She had so much love to give. She was such a good mother. She always knew the right thing to say and do, whereas he… He, too often, simply relied on Grace to speak for both of them, and tell their children what was in both their hearts. Aware Grace was still waiting for his reaction, Tom nodded, “It is a relief, you’re right, to finally be able to deal.”

Grace covered his hand with hers. “For me, too, Tom. We skirted that issue for too many years, thinking all the while we were doing what was best, but all we did was rob you of your chance to be a father to Daisy and put an unbearable strain on our marriage, trying to keep that secret. The irony, of course—” Grace let go of his hand, sat back and sipped her wine “—was that
our marriage ended anyway. Probably because of the lies, as much as the actual infidelity.”

Tom regarded his ex-wife with respect. “You seem to have come to terms with it.”

Grace’s lips curved in a rueful smile. “And I have Daisy to thank for that. Working with her, having to be around her, has been a revelation. One I wish I’d had much sooner. She’s a wonderful young woman, Tom. Smart and talented. Not afraid to speak her mind or face her demons. I admire her for that.”

“So do I.” Tom looked into his glass, his sense of personal failure increasing exponentially with every second that passed. “I just wish I had been able to give her what she needs.”

Grace helped herself to a stuffed mushroom and handed him one, too. “Why don’t you tell everyone you’re her father?”

Tom set his wineglass down on the coffee table in front of them. “Because if I did that, it wouldn’t be fair to you, Grace. Because it would unleash the hounds of hell on your tail as every tabloid reporter in the Western Hemisphere try to figure out who her mother is.” Because then they would know who Tom’s lover had been, and wouldn’t that be a scandal.

Grace frowned, and looked at Tom as if her heart went out to him for the predicament he was in. “Iris still won’t claim her?” Grace ascertained.

“No.” Tom finished one appetizer and helped himself to another. “She’s firm on that. And I know that hurts Daisy, too.”

Grace sipped her wine, then pointed out thoughtfully, “You and Iris may not have a choice if those documents that were stolen from Daisy are made public.”

“I know.” Guilt filled Tom anew.

Grace shot him an imploring look. “So why not take control of the situation and tell everyone that you’re Daisy’s father, and she’s your daughter, and you couldn’t be prouder?”

Tom stared at Grace in amazement as the sentiment behind her words slowly sank in. “You’d really stand up with me and do that?”

“I’ll go you one better.” Grace smiled, all warm, willing woman. “I’ll help
throw
the party where we announce it, although we’ll have to have it at your house. My place here isn’t nearly big enough. I just think we should do it soon before it’s done for us.”

Tom liked the way his ex thought. “What about Iris?” he asked, knowing there could still be troubled seas ahead.

Grace lifted her slender shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I suggest you tell Iris what you and I are going to do and let Iris make her own decision. It will probably eventually come out anyway. Hopefully Iris will make the right decision, but even if she doesn’t, the truth will one day be known. And won’t that be a relief?” Grace asked him seriously but happily. “To end all these secrets and lies? To be able to tell people what went wrong with our marriage, as well as how we plan to make it right.”

“In regard to Daisy,” Tom ascertained, wary of reading too much into Grace’s long hoped-for change of heart. He didn’t want to fool himself into thinking resolving the Daisy situation might mean a reconciliation between him and Grace, because experience had shown him time and time again that it was never that simple or easy between the two of them.

“In regard to a lot of things,” Grace corrected, looking him straight in the eye, seeming, for one long mo
ment, to be promising Tom a lot more than simple friendship.

“Now, about this party we’re going to have.” Oblivious to the thundering of Tom’s heart and the rush of blood in his loins, Grace smiled. “It’s going to take me a few days to pull everything together in terms of caterers and invitations and music and everything. So what do you say we work on the plans as soon as we finish dinner?”

C
HARLOTTE WALKED
into the political fund-raiser at the Mills House Hotel in downtown Charleston. The president was slated to attend in support of his party’s candidate for the U.S. Senate, and everyone who was anyone in Charleston was there for the ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate predinner cocktail hour and private reception—except her husband.

No sooner had Charlotte pinned on her name tag and accepted a glass of champagne than their old friend, Peyton Heyward, approached her. Peyton had recently agreed to merge family shipping companies with Tom Deveraux. Charlotte had heard it was because Peyton had been looking to cut back his hours somewhat, as well as pass the company on to his daughter, Lauren, a real estate broker who specialized in historic properties, and had no interest in the shipping business, and Peyton’s new son-in-law, Mitch Deveraux, who did.

“Charlotte, you look wonderful this evening!” Peyton kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Peyton.” Charlotte was glad someone appreciated her new sapphire-blue silk dress. Richard hadn’t.

“So do you.” At fifty-eight, the successful executive was in fine shape for a man his age. His blond hair was
streaked with silver, his brown eyes warm and kind behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Where’s Richard?” Peyton stepped up to the bar and bypassed champagne in favor of seltzer water with lime.

Charlotte sipped her champagne, wishing all the while her husband could be half as attentive as the widowed Peyton. “Richard stayed home this evening,” she confessed regretfully. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Really?” Peyton, an avid golfer and sportsman himself, did a double take. “I saw him on the links this afternoon, and at the club afterward. He seemed fine.”

Richard had looked perfectly well to Charlotte, too, when she’d gone down to his bedroom to see if he was ready to go and found him in a silk dressing gown, propped up in bed, reading. “You know how it is when you’re coming down with something.” Charlotte hated herself for telling the white lie, but saw no way around it. “One minute you’re fine, the next you’re not.”

Peyton smiled at her sincerely. “Well, tell him I hope he’s better soon.”

“I will, Peyton. Thank you,” Charlotte said as Bucky Jerome entered the dining room. Excusing herself politely, she headed over to talk to him. “Bucky, may I have a word with you?” she asked as soon as he had finished taking photos of the candidate and several party VIPs.

“Sure.” Bucky, who prior to Daisy’s miscarriage, anyway, had never had trouble getting along with Charlotte—only Richard—followed Charlotte willingly over to stand in a corner, next to a potted plant. “What’s up, Mrs. T.?” Bucky asked casually.

Charlotte kept her eye on the crowd coming in and her voice low. She did not want their conversation to
be overheard. “That blind article you wrote in your column. The prominent collector of very fine things involved in a reckless affair.” Charlotte paused, aware Daisy’s ex prep-school boyfriend had no reason to tell her what could be for some unlucky Charleston wife a life-altering thing. Charlotte looked Bucky straight in the eye. “Who were you talking about?”

Bucky floated a hand over his gelled black hair before narrowing his eyes at her. “Why do you need to know?”

Charlotte edged closer, aware that at five foot eight, Bucky did not tower over her intimidatingly, the way a lot of young men did these days. “I’m just curious.”

Bucky regarded her with regret. “I can’t tell you.”

Like heck you can’t,
Charlotte thought, knowing Bucky well enough, and for long enough, to be able to see when he was lying. “Is it anyone I know?” Charlotte persisted.

Appearing increasingly uncomfortable, Bucky looked over his shoulder. The Secret Service were coming in, as well as several prominent members of the president’s staff, which meant the president would soon follow. “Like I said, Mrs. T., it’s nothing you should waste your time thinking about. You just take care of yourself, okay?” Bucky rushed off to take photos of the dignitaries, camera in hand.

Charlotte stared after him, vainly attempting to reassure herself all was well, even though her feminine instinct was telling her that was not the case.

Richard was married, a resident of Charleston and a collector of very fine things, but he would not do anything so outrageous as what Bucky had alluded to in his column. Richard would not cheat on her. As for those silver lamé thong panties she’d found in Richard’s
jacket—they were probably a prankish memento of a bachelor party. Just like his bowing out of the benefit tonight was of no consequence. He was simply ill.

And if he was ill, Charlotte decided, she should be home with him. Instead of here at this gala. “You’re not staying for dinner?” One of the co-organizers asked as Charlotte bypassed the rest of the dignitaries still filing into the ballroom.

“No.” Charlotte had only the tiniest regret she would not be there to personally greet the president during his first foray to Charleston that calendar year. “I’ve really got to get home to Richard. He’s not feeling well.”

“Give him our best.”

“Thanks. I will.”

It was eight-thirty when the limo pulled up in front of their home. Their driver started to get out. Charlotte held up her hand. “Thank you, Nigel,” she said firmly. “I’ll see myself in.”

Nigel hesitated, a peculiar look on his face. “Ma’am…”

“Yes, Nigel?” Charlotte waited for any sign of duplicity on their longtime driver’s part.

“Nothing,” Nigel replied.

And in that instant, Charlotte knew her suspicions were very likely true. “I’m a grown woman, Nigel, and no fool. And if you wish to remain in my employ, you won’t even consider picking up that phone when I step out of this car. Is that understood?”

Nigel didn’t have to think long about to whom he wanted his allegiance sworn. He nodded grimly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her legs trembling slightly with the fear of what she might find, Charlotte quietly let herself inside and made
her way stealthily up the back staircase. She heard the sounds first, throaty moans and Richard’s crudely uttered instructions.