Leslie LaFoy (9 page)

His eyes darkened to hard ebony as his temples pulsed with the hammering of his quickened pulse. Slowly, his hands came out of his pockets. “We've already had a conversation about facing hard truths and being honest about it,” he said with sharp precision. “You can look at the books just as well as I can. You know damn good and well that without liquidating tangible assets, you're dead broke. You need a miracle and it'd be right nice of Richard to leave you one in his Will. If he does or he doesn't, it effects how I go about putting to rights this god-awful mess. Whether you like it or not, whether you think it's appropriate or not, I need to know what's in Richard's Will.”

No one had ever spoken to her in such a way! And about something so utterly reprehensible. She folded her arms and broadened her stance. “I have absolutely no intention of asking Vanderhagen anything about it. I refuse.”

He snorted. “I wasn't suggesting that you do. I'll make the inquiry.”

The greedy leading the tactless and insensitive.
She instinctively took another step forward as her hands again went to fists at her sides. “You'll do no such thing!”

His shoulders went ever so slightly back as he grinned. “Just out of curiosity, how do you think you're going to stop me?”

She would. If she had to crash something heavy over his head, she'd do it.

A measure of his amusement went out of his smile, but not all of it. In his eyes she clearly saw the spark of challenge ignite. “You decide to a take a swing at me, Lindsay,” he softly taunted, “you'd better make it the best one you've
got. If I can get up, I'm going to set aside the fact that you're a woman and make you pay for it. Understood?”

Oh, she understood perfectly and she was sorely tempted to take another step forward. The battle between that temptation and common sense was as swift as it was decisive. Lindsay lifted her chin. “You are the most odious and contemptible man I've ever met.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, still taunting, “right now I'm just real damn grateful that Billy didn't make my inheritance conditional on marrying you. I'd give up the ranch first and not think twice about it.”

The cut stung deeply, abrading an old wound that had never fully healed. “I can see why my father left everything to you. Birds of a feather, as they say. Bastards to the bone, both of you.”

“No,” he countered, his amusement gone, replaced by steely coolness. “It's a case of like father like son.”

“He wasn't your father.”

“More mine than yours.”

It was the truth, but that didn't dull the pain. Instead, it opened the doors to memories she had thought forever locked away. With them came a surging tide of emotions that threatened to undo her. “Dinner is served promptly at six,” she declared, turning on her heel and heading for the coatrack to retrieve her pelisse and bonnet. “We don't want to be late.”

“I'm not hungry. My apologies to Primrose and Mrs. Beechum.”

Lindsay didn't look back, but said, “Very well. Suit yourself,” as she gathered up her belongings and left him.

Jackson watched her go, silently swearing at himself. He'd never, even as a child, had an exchange as childish as that one had been. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd seen the hurt in her eyes when he'd thrown out the barb about being glad he didn't have to marry her for her money. And then he'd turned right around and deliberately wounded her again, reminding her that Billy had left her behind and in the end chosen him over her.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he considered the door she'd left wide open in her wake. If he had an ounce of
decency in him, he'd close up the office, find his way back to the house, and spit out an apology of some kind or another before Primrose brought out the soup course. And in doing so, he'd be handing Lindsay a victory he couldn't afford to give her.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped back into the chair behind the desk. There was work to be done and it had rightful first claim on his time. Patching things up with Lindsay MacPhaull was something that could wait until tomorrow. Today had been long enough and full enough for both of them already. It was going to take everything left in him to look at the books again and try to see a way out. Nothing made tomorrows look better than being able to face the sunrise with answers and something that resembled a fairly logical plan of attack. If you had that much, then everything else generally fell into place on its own.

As for Lindsay … Jackson scrubbed his hands over his face. Jesus. She was pretty, lusciously curved, and intelligent. When it came to business, she was apparently rational and levelheaded. But he'd been wrong about the woman who lay beneath that come-hither surface. Down deep Lindsay MacPhaull was still very much a little girl whose daddy had walked away from her and never looked back. Billy ought to burn in hell for doing that to her. And he, Jackson Stennett, Texas rancher and now New York businessman, was destined for the same fate if he didn't scrape together enough self-control to treat her a bit more gently.

Hopefully his apology for hurting her feelings this evening would be one of those things that just happened on its own tomorrow. If not, he'd have to find the grit to do it straight-out. She deserved that much from him. The books said the odds were that, when all was said and done, she wasn't going to get much of anything else.

L
INDSAY HESITATED
, one foot on the sidewalk and the other on the coach step. Jackson Stennett had claimed that her father was more his than hers. In a sense it was true. But in another, she was proving herself to be her father's daughter to the marrow. She was running from difficulties in the tradition
that was William MacPhaull's legacy. If she had any strength of moral fiber, she'd turn around and march back into the office and … and …

Do what? Simply stand there to prove that she could? Tell Jackson Stennett that her father had been a coward and that she was made of sterner stuff? Why would Stennett care? Given his nature, he'd probably feel compelled to point out that turning around and coming back wasn't proof of anything except a foolish devotion to pride. And he would be right.

Lindsay climbed into the carriage, pulled the door closed behind her, and, with a rap on the wall behind her, signaled the driver to take her home. Today had been very long, she told herself; a day filled with wholly unexpected and unpleasant events. She'd done the best she could under the trying circumstances. Tomorrow would be better. And, of course, running home for dinner wasn't at all like running away to Texas for life. They were two very different actions, committed by two very different people.

Weren't they?

Lindsay sighed, pursed her lips, and decided that, whether it was running away or not, she couldn't afford to hide in MacPhaull House. There were decisions that had to be made, and made both quickly and firmly. And she wanted to talk them out with someone whose judgment and experience she trusted, someone she could call an ally in the days ahead.

She crossed to the opposite seat in the carriage and slid open the window that allowed her to talk to her driver.

L
INDSAY STOOD AT THE PARLOR HEARTH
and watched the flames dance in the grate. It really was most unseemly to be in a gentleman's house without a proper chaperone. Especially so in the evening. If anyone had noted her arrival, there would be tongues wagging all over town by tomorrow morning. Not that she cared for her own reputation. God knew it wouldn't be the first time her behavior had been the subject of public comment. But Benjamin Tipton certainly didn't deserve to have his name sullied by the gossips. Had
there been another way to meet with him without Jackson Stennett being aware of it…

“Miss Lindsay,” Ben declared, coming into the parlor, his smile large but somehow edged with a shadow of wariness. “To what do I owe the honor and pleasure of your visit?”

“Nothing dire, Ben,” she hurriedly assured him. “And I promise that I won't keep you from your dinner. But if you wouldn't mind, I'd truly appreciate hearing your thoughts on …” She shrugged and then shook her head as she finished, “Well, I suppose ‘the upheaval’ is really the only way to put it.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and his eyes brightened. “I'm flattered that you've asked, Miss Lindsay. I'll gladly help in any manner I can.” He gestured to a pair of upholstered chairs flanking the hearth. “Please, let's have a seat and be comfortable.”

Yes, Ben did like his comforts, she admitted as she smoothed her skirts and settled into the chair. He had exquisite taste in furnishings and appointments. Ben sat across from her and crossed one leg casually over the other, lacing his long slender fingers to clasp his trouser-clad knee.

“First, if you would,” she began, meeting his gaze squarely, her hands folded primly in her lap, “tell me what you think of Jackson Stennett.”

Ben shrugged one shoulder in a characteristically dismissive gesture. “He certainly seems to be an intelligent man with a reasonable amount of business experience.”

“I've gotten the same impression,” Lindsay admitted. She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and plunged into the more complicated aspects of the situation. “In the explanation of things we gave you this afternoon, one important detail was carefully omitted, Ben. Stennett intends to liquidate a considerable portion of the MacPhaull Company holdings within the next sixty days. What are your thoughts on this?”

He gazed into the fire for several long moments, pursing and unpursing his lips. “Well,” he finally, slowly, said, “as we know, there are some holdings that really do need to be disposed of. Mr. Patterson's last instructions to me this
morning were to prepare a list of properties that could be sold without reducing income.” His gaze slid up to hers as he added, “If Mr. Stennett could be persuaded to focus his efforts on selling those, I don't see that he'd be doing anything that Mr. Patterson hadn't intended to do anyway.”

She nodded, remembering the conversation she and Richard had been having about Henry's boat and Agatha's cottage at the shore.

Ben softly cleared his throat and waited for her attention to come back to him before commenting, “I'd have to say, Miss Lindsay, that my feelings on the matter depend on what Mr. Stennett intends to do with the revenue the sales generate. If he were to put them into some of the more profitable ventures—say, the coal mine, for instance—then I think his course is a very sound one and one Mr. Patterson would heartily approve.”

Lindsay smiled ruefully. “If that's what he intended to do, Ben, I wouldn't be concerned at all. However, he's planning to take almost fifty-three thousand dollars in cash to Texas and retire debts my father left encumbering the title to the ranch they owned in partnership.”

Ben's pale brows knitted. “Does he intend to run what remains of the MacPhaull Company from that backwater?”

“He's assured me that he'll title back all the properties that he doesn't have to sell,” Lindsay supplied. “Once he has the money he needs, he says he'll return to Texas and be done with us.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Lindsay admitted. “Although, if you pressed, I wouldn't be able to give you a logical reason as to why.” She sighed. “However …”

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “As you're well aware, we don't have the financial resources to fight the Will in court. We're not without other options, though. Mr. Stennett may be the sole beneficiary of my father's Will, Ben, but until his ownership is recognized by the probate court, he's really powerless to take any action on his own.

“If I were so inclined, I could sell the entire company so that—when the court orders the property to be given over
to him—there's nothing to be given. I have this niggling feeling that if Richard were physically able, he would be scrambling to do just that. I value your experience and perspective, Ben. You've been with the company for a very long time. What do you think I ought to do?”

“I assume you want a candid opinion.”

“Please.” She smiled. “I was quite impressed by the way you evaded Mr. Stennett's questions earlier. It really was masterfully done and I appreciate the attempt to shield me from embarrassment.”

He bowed his head in courtly acceptance of the thanks and then replied, “My loyalties are not subject to your father's Will, Miss Lindsay. I'll continue to serve the interests I always have.”

God, what would she do without Benjamin Tipton? Where would she be? “Now for your honest thoughts about selling everything before Mr. Stennett can. Do you think it's the course Richard would want me to take?”

He didn't hesitate long enough to blink. “I think Mr. Patterson would counsel you against such a plan.”

Lindsay arched a brow.

Obligingly, he added, “I'm sure Mr. Vanderhagen could wrap it all up in a very lengthy legal explanation, but the gist of it would be that liquidating the assets at this point wouldn't go over well. Mr. Stennett would cry foul and the courts would probably agree with him. You're selling assets in a deliberate effort to circumvent the spirit of your father's Will. I'm afraid they'd frown on that and order you to give Mr. Stennett all the proceeds from the sales.”

Relief flooded over her. Ben saw the same pitfalls as she did. It was so comforting to know that her thinking wasn't absolutely muddled. “And with all the assets having been liquidated into cash, Stennett could well take it
all
back to Texas with him, as opposed to just a portion of it,” Lindsay observed. “Just for revenge.”

“Indeed. And I'll add that his having to sue for the inheritance will only keep him here that much longer. I think your original instincts on the matter are the correct ones to follow, Miss Lindsay.”

“My original instincts?” she repeated, wondering if she really was as transparent as Ben seemed to think she was.

“If I'm interpreting your actions of today correctly,” he supplied readily, “you're inclined to assist him—while subtly influencing his decisions—so that he can be satisfied and thus removed from the situation as quickly as possible.”

She'd always known that Ben was an intelligent and perceptive man, but the keenness of his insight was startling nevertheless. “You know me very well, Ben.”