Rexanne Becnel (31 page)

But distance was not enough to prevent her from feeling the inexorable effects of Dillon’s overwhelming presence. Even as she hurried down the hall toward the boardroom, she could feel his eyes upon her back. He might as well have been caressing her, so vivid was the effect on her devastated nerves. Why, oh, why had she consented to walk with him? she fretted as she paused before the boardroom, struggling to calm her breathing. It was hard enough to oppose him when he was being hateful and contrary. But when he played the gentleman, when he was pleasant and cordial, far too many foolish hopes started circling in her mind. How pleased he must be with himself! she thought miserably. How well-satisfied and content! Even now that smug grin was no doubt painted on his face as he contemplated everything he expected to gain when she finally gave in to him.

Unexpected tears stung her eyes as she once more recalled how businesslike his proposal had been last night. He didn’t really want a wife, she reminded herself. He wanted a business partner, one he could control. And if the truth were known, he didn’t really want that either. All he had ever really wanted from her was…

She stiffened and banished the tear before it could fall. He wanted a mistress, and he wanted all of Frederick’s property. His proposal to her would in effect get him both of those. He saw their marriage as no more than another business contract, and since he didn’t love his business partners, why would he expect to love her?

It was just her poor misfortune to have fallen desperately in love with him.

The sound of voices approaching shook Lacie out of her self-pitying thoughts, and with a quick dab at her eyes she collected herself. She recognized Dillon’s voice among the men coming toward her, but she refused to look over at him, fearing that he would see how emotionally overwrought she had become. Instead she grasped the door handle and entered the room, sending a few tight smiles to the men she had met the previous day, then hurrying to her now familiar place at the end of the long table.

She busied herself reviewing the papers before her as the last of the board members found their places. Even when Dillon called the meeting to order, she could not meet the sharp green gaze that she felt so clearly turned upon her. Her emotions were too raw, and she feared he would see how vulnerable she was. He no doubt already believed she was considering his unfeeling proposal, especially after the walk they’d shared this morning. What would he think if he saw tears glistening so near the surface of her eyes? She could not give him that advantage.

“…my reason for discussing the financial status of the privately held companies before the entire board will soon be clear. I am proposing a three-year plan of aggressive expansion among the entire family of companies. The railroads are expanding. Denver is on the verge of experiencing an explosion of growth, and we are in the enviable position of being able to profit handsomely if we are willing to take some risks.”

“I don’t see how there are any risks under those circumstances,” Mr. Cunningham remarked amiably. “Denver’s growth means our growth.”

“So it does. But I’m not talking about complacently benefiting from that growth. This is the right time to expand the carriage works to build railroad cars as well. This is the right time to build new hardware stores in all the neighboring towns. This is the right time to open a lumberyard and a construction outfit in every town where the railroad stops.” He paused and looked over the crowd of now-interested members. Then his gaze rested on Lacie, and an ominous shiver of apprehension ran up her spine. He had been softening her up this morning, but she knew with an irrational certainty that he was about to launch his attack now. And she was far from ready.

“The risk I’m speaking of involves the personal financial commitment of every single one of you.” Again he paused, but this time his eyes would not meet hers. “If you can all agree to forgo dividends for the next four quarters, each company will have the monetary resources to finance these projects.”

There was a brief silence as everyone digested that proposal. Lacie frowned, trying to understand how that affected Sparrow Hill, but her thoughts were interrupted when someone asked a question.

“Didn’t you say this would be a three-year proposal?”

“Yes, but I’m proposing that we evaluate our progress on a yearly basis.”

“Makes it more palatable to those of us being socked, eh?” Mr. Cunningham chuckled.

Dillon grinned. “Hopefully.” Then he became more serious. “I’m sure some of you count on your quarterly dividends to supplement the other business and personal expenses you incur. If you agree to my proposal, however, you will not be able to touch that money.” His eyes paused briefly on Lacie, seeming to burn her with their intensity. Then they moved on.

“Any shortfalls in your income would have to be supplemented by other means.”

In sudden comprehension Lacie sat bolt upright. Her eyes locked on Dillon as she realized with sickening clarity just what he was doing. Her hand went to her throat as he continued to speak, but she didn’t hear the remainder of his words. She had already heard the crucial part, and she understood now exactly what he planned. He was blocking her only means of support for the school. With his track record of success and the promise of even greater financial rewards, he was enticing the other board members to go along with him.

She glanced around at the men who were listening so raptly to Dillon’s well-calculated presentation. There wasn’t one of them who did not appear sufficiently well off to weather a temporary absence of their usual dividends. From young to old, from lean and eager to fat and complacent, they might not have all been born gentlemen, but in the rough-and-tumble climate of the Colorado Territory they had all become quite rich. Although next to Dillon she held the most stock in the companies, she was very likely the poorest of them all, she suddenly realized.

Averting her gaze, Lacie stared unseeingly at her lap, knotting her fingers together as she desperately sought a hole in Dillon’s logic. Surely there was a reason for the board members not to go along with his plan. To her dismay, however, they seemed to think it a well-considered idea. Her shoulders slumped as she tried to fight off an awful feeling of defeat. Then her eyes focused on the simple ring she had taken from Frederick’s things, the one she was passing off as her wedding band. At that moment the plain little band felt very much like a wedding ring, a symbol of the trust that Frederick had placed in her. Although he had not given it to her to signify marriage, with his last dying words, he had seemed to entrust to her the care of his beloved school.

Preserve my school
, he had uttered before he had fallen into that final coma. She knew with certainty that he had wanted her to keep Sparrow Hill going. Although her methods in doing that might appear a little suspect, her motives had nevertheless always been pure.

Lacie twisted the ring about her finger, feeling the lightly carved flowers and the warmth of the delicate band. Strengthened and restored, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her gaze to Dillon.

He had just finished his bid for their approval and was smiling confidently at the group. When his eyes met hers, however, his grin seemed to turn smug. She gritted her teeth as her resolve faltered. He seemed always to affect her so, intimidating her both with his overwhelming magnetism and with his arrogant grasp of every situation. But this was her last stand, her final chance to keep the school solvent. Bravely, she met his intense stare with her own.

“Before everyone blithely goes along with this proposal, I’d like to say a few things.”

Every head turned toward her and all background whispering abruptly died. Lacie’s mouth felt as dry as cotton as she faced the silent group. But after several long seconds it was not she but Dillon who spoke.

“I have no intention of calling for a vote on this matter today, Lacie. As the rest of the board members know, it is my custom to introduce a subject one day for discussion, and after everyone has had a night to mull it over, to call for a vote the following day.”

Lacie felt the mild chastisement in his voice and her cheeks grew warm as she realized how silly she must appear to the other avidly watching men. Still, the damage was already done. Besides, she knew better than to trust Dillon, especially when he sounded so reasonable.

“Are you saying it’s inappropriate to discuss the subject now?”

He studied her for a moment. “Not at all. I’m saying this
is
the time to discuss it. We’ll discuss it as long as we need to today. And we’ll discuss it even more tomorrow before we vote on it.” He cocked his head as he regarded her. “No one is going to blithely go along with my proposal, as you put it.”

There was a horrible silence after that, and Lacie could not have been more embarrassed. Everything he said was so logical and well thought out that he seemed moved by only the best of intentions. By contrast, she must seem like a suspicous, grasping shrew. She sat back a little as she peered dejectedly at him. Once more he had drawn her in, then allowed her to hang herself. If the wary faces of the other board members were any indication, they were hardly flattered to be depicted as sheep blindly following the shepherd’s call. Now that she had inadvertently belittled them, she would have to work twice as hard to win them over.

She swallowed hard as she considered her response, for she knew every word she said from now on would count.

“I’m sorry if I misunderstood you, Dil—Mr. Lockwood,” she amended hastily. “And I certainly did not mean to imply that the board members would not judge all sides of this proposal on their merit.”

“Come now, Lacie, there’s no reason to stand on ceremony here. You can call me Dillon at the board meetings, the same as you do in private.”

She couldn’t prevent the icy glare she sent him at that unsettling remark. He was deliberately trying to provoke her! It took all her willpower not to snap back at him. But that was what he wanted, she reminded herself. That was exactly what he wanted.

Still, she felt like a loser regardless of what she did, for as the meeting progressed it was clear that Dillon was enjoying her strenuous efforts to stay calm and polite almost as much as he would if she had pitched a fit in front of the board. That was obvious from the slight curve to his lips and the amused glint in his glass-green eyes as he watched her. Even when he spoke, she was conscious of a subtle goading in his tone, his impeccable manners and his unquestionably polite demeanor notwithstanding. He had never treated her so solicitously before, and that only proved it was all for show. Yet no one else knew what he was up to and that galled her to no end. She knew he was putting on an act. And he was aware that she knew his game. But he also knew there was nothing she could do about it, and that clearly was what amused him the most.

She struggled to compose herself as he responded to a question from another board member.

“Those numbers sound very good,” she interjected with as much grace as she could muster. “But you are in effect asking this board to use money that is not its own to finance your elaborate plans.”

“The money is all dividend money that is generated within the family of companies.”

“Yes, but dividends are by their very nature the earnings of the stockholders,” she interrupted with great heat. “You want to spend my earnings on your projects when you know very well—” She stopped herself before she said too much. “When you must know that others of us have definite plans for our dividend earnings—plans quite separate from the schemes you’ve been preparing.”

“I never doubted that for a minute,” he answered in an infuriatingly polite tone.

“Might I say, Mrs. Kimbell,” Mr. Andrews put in, “that you’ve not had the benefit of observing Mr. Lockwood’s successes in business as the rest of us have. If it will help to appease your concern, I am certain that the few years we do without our profits will reward us with far greater earnings in the many years to come.” He smiled hopefully. “Perhaps you could put your other plans on hold for a year or two?”

And let Dillon win? Lacie thought in frustration. And let him close her school? Not a chance. Yet she knew better than to express any open hostility toward Dillon when it was clear that practically the entire board was in his camp. It took all her willpower to keep her expression pleasant as she responded to Mr. Andrews.

“Putting my plans on hold could mean the demise of a project near and dear to the heart of my late husband,” she said very quietly, deciding it was time to pull out all the stops. If reason wouldn’t sway them, perhaps appealing to their heartstrings would. “He cared more for the Sparrow Hill School for Young Ladies than he did for any of his other businesses. Indeed, I now see that for him, all these other investments were only the means to provide income for his school.” She glanced around and tried to make herself look the needy widow. “His last words to me were of his school. I couldn’t bear to let it go under. Yet, if I am denied my profits…” she trailed off, choking on emotions that were not affectation at all.

There was a brief silence and for a moment Lacie felt a glimmer of hope. She’d actually made them pause in their all-fired hurry to do whatever the wonderful Dillon Lockwood said. But Dillon was quick to answer her.

“Your plans to keep Frederick’s school going are admirable, Lacie. Certainly I have no objection to that,” he said easily. But the glint in his narrowed eyes said otherwise. “I think, however, that you would do well to make an effort to improve the school so that it could become financially solvent.”

There was little Lacie could say to refute that argument, yet she refused to let Dillon have the final word. She gave him a smile, although her eyes shot daggers at him. “I assure you, that
is
my goal. However, it may take a while to do so. All I’m asking is not to be deprived of my rightful earnings in the meantime.”

He stiffened at her use of the word
rightful
, and she felt a small twinge of remorse. Oh, why must the two of them be at such an impasse? she fretted. Why couldn’t they have met under better circumstances? Then perhaps he would have liked her more, maybe even fallen in love with her.