Journey's End (Gilded Promises) (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Caroline shifted her stance, watching silently as her grandfather directed a servant to a table near the bookshelves in his study. While the man set down a tray laden with plates of steaming food, Caroline reflected over the events of the last few hours.

She’d never felt this physically and emotionally exhausted, not even when she’d been holed up in steerage during her journey across the Atlantic. Her entire body ached, her head felt light, and her mouth had gone dry as dust, the consequences of her unchecked tears.

Once the servant retreated, her grandfather motioned her over to the table, where he held out a chair for her. They’d agreed to dine in private, away from the other guests. Caroline had assumed it was for her benefit, but now she wondered. Perhaps her grandfather didn’t want to face the rest of his family. Perhaps he wished to avoid the arduous task of uncovering who was behind her mother’s returned letters.

As much as she’d like to know as well, Caroline wasn’t up to the task, either, at least not tonight. She’d had enough confrontation for one evening.

“I—that is—” She stopped short. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you.”

“Your cousin calls me Grandfather.”

“Grandfather.” Caroline repeated the name in her head, rolling it silently around in her mind. “Grandfather.” The name tasted strange on her tongue. And yet, somehow, it felt right. “I like it.”

“Then Grandfather it is.”

Caroline smiled. The simple gesture felt right as well.

In silent agreement, they spent the next few minutes focusing on their individual plates. Given the original nature of her presence here tonight, Caroline should have felt uncomfortable in her grandfather’s company. She didn’t. Much like her smile, everything about this moment, this meal, this private time with the man she’d spent years hating felt . . . right. Even the silence was pleasant.

“Caroline.”

“Yes . . . Grandfather?” They both smiled.

“There’s something I don’t understand.” He set his fork down on the table, his smile fading. “Where did you acquire the necessary funds to journey to America and then set yourself up at the Waldorf-Astoria?”

Her stomach knotted at the question, and she slowly placed her own fork on the table. “I didn’t resort to stealing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then how did you earn the money?”

“Do you truly want to know?” She eyed him, unsure how much to reveal. “Even if it’s a tale you might not wish to hear?”

“I get a sense you are a resourceful woman.” The admiration in his voice was real, but he didn’t yet know what she’d done. Would his respect turn to condemnation?

Determined to brave this out to the end and to remain as truthful as possible along the way, she forced a smile on her face, then . . .

Stalled a moment longer. “One has to be somewhat wily in order to survive in Whitechapel.”

“Whitechapel?” His face crumpled. “Caroline.” He reached out to cover her hand with his. “You must realize how sorry I am that you—”

“No.” She pulled her hand free and placed it in the air to prevent him from speaking further. “We agreed. No more apologizing, from either of us.”

“Right.” He shut his eyes a moment, sighed, then continued. “You were about to tell me how you raised enough money to carry out your plan.” This time, he held up his hand to forestall her words. “And before
you
apologize again, I understand your motives for coming here. Given the information you had, I don’t blame you for wanting revenge on me.”

His voice was deep and forgiving. Instead of comforting her, it had the opposite effect. Her shame returned. “It wasn’t revenge that I wanted, not precisely. I just wanted you to . . . to . . .” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit the truth.

“Suffer,” he finished for her. “You wanted me to suffer as your mother had all those years in England.”

“Yes. Oh, Grandfather, I am—” She cut herself off. “
Not
going to say I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now. Proceed with your story.”

“It took me six months to earn what I needed.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

She quoted the outrageous sum.

“That’s the equivalent of what one of my factory workers earns over five years.” His gaze turned thoughtful, astute, reminding her that this man was nobody’s fool, not even his long-lost granddaughter’s. “What sort of . . . activity pays that kind of return in only six months?”

“I didn’t steal the money,” she reiterated. “Not in the truest sense of the word.”

“You’re stalling, Caroline.” He gave her a disappointed shake of his head. “I expect better from you.”

She expected better from herself. “I won the money playing cards.”

“You are a card sharp?” He sounded oddly intrigued.

“Not by trade, no. Gambling was merely a means to an end, the fastest way to raise the money I needed.” She swallowed. When presented in such a candid manner, she sounded quite calculating. “I was—I was . . . on a schedule.”

“Are you saying you cheated?”

She gasped. “No.
Never.
I’m just very skilled at reading my opponent.”

“No one is that skilled at reading her opponent.”

Sighing, she explained further. “I am also very good with numbers. I can calculate any sum, no matter how large, with very little effort. I also have a good memory. I can deduce from the cards that have been played which ones are still in the deck, thereby mentally calculating the odds of my success or failure per hand.”

“Truly?”

She nodded.

“What is four hundred and thirty-five times fifty-one?”

She answered without hesitation. “Twenty-two thousand, one hundred eighty-five.”

“Eight hundred sixty-three times nine hundred twenty-two.”

“Seven hundred ninety-five thousand, six hundred eighty-six.”

“Now that is a useful talent.” He rubbed his chin, speculating. “If you are that good, why did you wait until your mother died to earn the money it took to come here and find me?”

Caroline sighed. “Because Mother asked me not to play cards.”

“Why not?”

“Because, with my particular skill, the way I play cards is—” She swallowed. “It’s a . . . sin.”

Until the words left her mouth, Caroline had never considered herself religious, certainly not obedient to an invisible God who allowed so much suffering in the world, in
her
world. But her mother had never given up on her faith, or her God, not even in the darkest days.

Caroline had secretly hated Libby for her blind faith. Or so she’d always thought. Now, she realized that she’d admired her mother for her faith. Just as she admired Mary for hers.

“Libby taught you well.”

Caroline sighed again. “Mother used to call the way I played nothing more than a sophisticated form of stealing. In the final years of her life, I honored her wishes to earn money honestly.”

They’d suffered a harder life than necessary because of that, but Caroline had agreed. Until her mother’s death, when she’d experienced unprecedented remorse. And, yes, shame. Why had she bowed to her mother’s wishes when she could have earned enough to get them out of Whitechapel years ago?

So much to regret.

“Caroline.” Her grandfather’s voice held a shrewd note. “There are other ways to use your skill with numbers that don’t involve cards. Legal ways that can earn just as much money.”

Doubting that, she angled her head. “Such as?”

“What if I told you I could teach you how to calculate the odds for legitimate gain?”

“I’d say you have an interest of your own.”

“You’d be right.” He gave her an appreciative wink. “But it may not be for the reasons you think.”

Intrigued despite herself, she leaned forward. “Explain.”

He waved her off with a flick of his wrist. “Tomorrow, at my office, three o’clock, not a second later.”

Oh, he was a sharp one, the wily old goat. He’d given her just enough information to keep her interested, but not enough to give her a reason to turn him down. They both knew she would show up precisely at the commanded time. “I’ll be there. But be warned, I’m on to your game.”

“That, my dear Caroline, is because we are very much alike.”

She allowed herself a brief laugh. “So it would seem.”

Caroline climbed into her grandfather’s motorcar just after midnight. The night was clear, with the curve of the waxing moon brilliant against the black fabric of the sky. The streetlamps drew long shadows from the house across the hood of the car.

With only half a mind, Caroline glanced at the million stars above her head. She hadn’t seen Montgomery since he’d left her alone with her grandfather. Just as well. She was weary and worn to the bone, feeling as though she’d run a long-distance race. She wasn’t up for another verbal battle with the man.

A moment after the driver shut the door behind her, it swung back open and a familiar dark form appeared. She knew those broad shoulders well. A sickening knot twisted in her stomach as the car dipped slightly under the man’s added weight, then balanced out once he settled in the seat beside her.

She couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkened interior, but she knew he had questions. Many of them. All the more reason to release a long, heartfelt sigh. “Look, Montgomery, I’m not in the mood for another battle with you tonight.”

“Nor am I.”

“Then what do you want?” Her voice sounded as exhausted as she felt. At least her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could now make out most of his features. Even in the weak light he was a stunningly handsome man, and far more masculine than most of the men she’d met in society. The unmistakable muscles beneath his perfectly tailored jacket told her he was a physical being. Something she wouldn’t have expected of an individual who spent most of his time in boardrooms.

She heard him breathing calmly beside her. Such remarkable control. She closed her eyes tightly while Montgomery leaned forward to direct the driver to her hotel.

Once they were on their way, he returned to his original position. “I am here to formulate our plan of attack to accomplish our mutual goal.” He allowed an eloquent silence to punctuate his words, then added, “We will discuss the details now.”

Her mind still muddled from the drama of the evening, she opened her eyes and gaped at him. “What, exactly, is
our mutual goal
?”

“Someone in the St. James household intentionally kept your mother and Richard from reconciling through the years.” He seemed surprised he had to spell it out for her, and now that he’d explained himself, Caroline was a bit surprised, too.

“We need to find out who that person is and expose him . . . or her,” he said.

“
We?
How is this any of your concern? You are only a friend of the family.”

His eyebrow twitched at her barb, not enough for most people to notice, but Caroline knew how to read responses others missed. She sensed she’d found this man’s weakness, the reminder of his position in the family. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Another valuable piece of information she filed away in her mind.

“Perhaps I am not a St. James but, at the moment, I am the only person Richard can trust completely.”

“And why is that? Because you share a few business dealings with him?”

“Because I don’t have a personal stake in his inheritance, while others do.” The unspoken message was clear. She was one of the
others
he thought wanted her grandfather’s money.

Except she hadn’t come here for any inheritance. That simple truth hadn’t changed over the last few hours. For a moment, she stared at the velvet blanket of stars out the window and decided to let Montgomery think what he wanted. She wasn’t going to defend herself yet again to this man.

She did, however, wish to hear his plan. “What are you suggesting?”

“I propose we work together to uncover the culprit.”

She wasn’t completely against the idea. “You want us to work together when you so obviously don’t trust me. And I equally don’t trust you.”

He had the good grace to look regretful. “Let me apologize for my behavior earlier this evening.”

“Pardon me?” She felt her eyes widen ever so slightly. “I must have misunderstood you. You are apologizing?”

“So it would seem.”

How was she supposed to reconcile this contrite man with the one who had vowed to watch her every step? “I have never met anyone like you,” she admitted. “You are a contradiction.”

“As are you.” He shifted on the seat. “I feel I should warn you. Given the nature of your original motives for seeking out your grandfather, I am unable to release my suspicions of you completely.”

Nor could she release her suspicions of him. “Fair enough.”

“What do you say, Caroline? Do we call a temporary truce?”

Her neck muscles tightened, her mind honing in on the word
temporary
. That implied their truce would come to an end, sooner or later. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You want us to pool our resources,
temporarily
, as much to meet our common goal as to keep an eye on me.”

“I knew you were a clever girl.”