The Marker (28 page)
“Miss Lexie?” Daniel asked, concerned, looking from Lexie to his mother.
Lexie put a hand on the sweet boy’s head. “It’s all right. I’m just a little sick, is all.” She wondered what it would have been like to have Nicholas’s child, a boy like Daniel with a sweet heart and a wild spirit, with the dark hair of his mother and the bright eyes of his father. She pushed the thought away, for it was too painful for her to think about. She would not bear Nicholas’s children. She would bear Buchanan’s children, if she bore children at all. Knowing the man she would be marrying, she hoped she was barren. A child would give her someone to love, but Lexie understood what it was like to live with a father who had a cruel streak, and she could not abide by someone beating her child the way she had been. Better barren than to bring a child into that.
“Do you need some tea?” Daniel asked. “Mama makes me tea when I’m sick.”
Lexie smiled, accepting the handkerchief Claire offered to mop the sweat from her brow and the tears from her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me.” Her words seemed to mollify the boy, but not his mother.
Lexie knew Claire was concerned. She might be able to hide her misery from the boys, but she couldn’t hide it from Claire, who seemed to notice everything. And while Claire maintained her silence for the walk back, Lexie recognized the concern in her face, the questions in the way Claire studied her with her dark, intelligent eyes.
Lexie hoped Claire would leave well enough alone. She didn’t want to talk about Nicholas, what had happened between them, or anything else. It hurt too much. At the same time, she knew Claire wouldn’t leave it alone for long. Claire knew about the nightly weeping, the occasional retching. She hadn’t convinced anyone.
She was a wreck, and everyone in the household knew it.
Nicholas downed his drink and swiftly ordered another one. He wondered why he had come by this place at all. The men here were all pretty-boy dandies. He should have gone to a seedy saloon down by the waterfront, found a sailor, and picked a fight.
Why did he have to see her today?
She was as lovely as ever, but he noticed the rings under her eyes, the way she breathed as if struggling for air, her shaking fingers. She’d obviously lost weight. Was she sick? She looked sick. Had she left because she’d been afraid to tell him? Their fight had been trivial, nothing but a silly misunderstanding, and even though Lexie was proud and stubborn, he couldn’t imagine she would abandon him because of one little argument.
Surely he hadn’t lost her because of a misunderstanding over a damn boat.
Did she need him?
He should go to her and ask, but the last time he had stopped by the O’Connor house, they had turned him away with some pathetic excuse about Lexie being out for the day. If she were sick, he would take care of her. She didn’t need to turn to virtual strangers in her time of need, not when he was the one who loved her.
The pianist played a jaunty tune, and Nicholas fought the urge to go over and slam the lid shut on the man’s fingers. He wanted silence and solitude. Any music should be melancholy and haunting, not bright and happy. The world was dark, and the music should be dark with it.
He would go home, but every room, every piece of furniture, reminded him of his failures with the two most important people in his life. His brother’s house offered him no comfort, just more grief, so he stayed away as much as possible. Unfortunately, to avoid the ghosts of his brother’s family, he had to be around people. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to gamble. He didn’t want women.
He wanted Lexie, and barring that, he wanted to get roaring drunk. He could at least do that. He’d been doing a fine job of
that
for weeks now.
He was finishing his latest drink—he had long since lost count—when a voice said, “You can’t keep this up, Wetherby.”
He looked up from the bar and found James standing beside him, his mouth set into a thin line of disapproval.
“Shut up.”
James sat down on the stool next to him, his face holding nothing of his typical humor, his eyes flat and cold. Good, he deserved James’s disdain. A part of him wanted to be so repugnant no one would ever talk to him again, so he’d be left alone with his misery.
“I’m serious, Nick.”
“That’s a first. Go away and leave me alone,” Nicholas said, draining his glass.
James sighed and ordered a shot of whiskey for himself, but instead of drinking it like he normally would, he palmed it and regarded Nicholas. With a sigh, he said, “I would, but this isn’t a social call.”
“No?”
“No. Your behavior is bad for business.”
Nicholas had to respect James for not mincing his words, and had to admit the man had a point. His drinking and brawling would eventually get him in trouble, and he needed to stop, but instead of conceding to James he was right, he slurred, “You know what’s bad for business? Your goddamn sister taking Lexie in and then refusing to let me talk to her.”
James bristled as he always did when anyone disparaged his sister. Nicholas suspected he had been forced to defend his half-native relation for most of his life, and he counted on James rising to her defense now. “My ‘goddamn sister,’ as you so delicately put it, has made you a fortune, and don’t you forget it. This isn’t Claire’s fault. She offered Lexie a job before any of us knew about...your relationship. It’s not her fault Lexie took her up on her offer.”
“I need to talk to her,” Nicholas said, resting his head miserably on the bar.
“Then go talk to her.”
“I can’t!” Nicholas exploded. “I’ve been barred from the O’Connor household. She’s refused to see me, and your family is hiding her. What do you want from me, Campbell? Do you want me to be happy about it? Well, bully for you.”
“Don’t be a horse’s ass, Nick,” James admonished. “This is the kind of behavior I’m talking about. You’re drinking yourself into oblivion, and it’s not gone unnoticed. Our business partners aren’t going to trust a drunk.”
“Shut up,” Nicholas retorted, motioning for the bartender to bring him another round. “I’m not a drunk.”
James snorted a breath of bitter laughter. “You’re not? If I want to see you, I just need to find the nearest saloon, because you’re sure as hell not going to come to any business meeting I set up. You’ll just sit here and drink, get into a fight, and stagger home, only to begin again the next day. Sounds like a drunk to me.”
“I’m not a drunk,” Nicholas repeated, his words slurring.
“Yes, you are.” He paused for a moment and played with his glass, but he didn’t drink. “I understand you’re hurt, but we need you to pull yourself out of this and get to work. Who’s going to help O’Connor run the business once I’ve left for the Orient? Depending on how things go, I may be gone for months, if not years.”
“Your sister?” Nicholas sneered.
James’s upper lip curled into an angry snarl, but his voice was calm when he said, “The O’Connors are a package deal, and you and I both know Claire can’t take meetings. No man is going to listen to an Indian woman, no matter how rich and smart she is or how many languages she speaks.
You’re
a partner in this business, and you need to pull your weight. Or at least show up. Hell, I can’t even trust you to entertain a beautiful blonde for an evening.”
“I guess you already heard about Becky.”
“Word travels fast when you’ve offended the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in San Francisco. I’ve always trusted you to charm women, and you couldn’t even manage that.”
“I found her self-absorbed and dull.”
“That’s never been an impediment before,” James retorted. “I asked you to entertain the girl, not marry her. You need to get yourself under control.”
“Or what? You going to kick me out?”
James sighed heavily. “If you insist on putting our investment at risk, then yes.”
“You’re a cold bastard, you know that?”
“Always have been,” James replied wearily, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I can’t defend your actions for much longer. I understand you’re upset, but you’ve got to sober up and meet me half way.”
“Bring her to me and I’ll sober up. Is she sick?”
“Don’t ask me. Go ask
her
.”
“Convince her to talk to me. She’ll listen to you. Everyone listens to you. I just need to talk to her one more time.”
James snorted a laugh. “If everyone listened to me, you’d still be entertaining Becky and not sitting here. I’m not doing your dirty work for you. You want to talk to your woman, go to Claire’s and ask to see her.”
“Your sister turned me away the last time I went, and your jackass brother-in-law stands behind her. Supports her in her decision, he says. This is not your fight. Your sister has nothing to do with this, but she’s interfering. So my drinking is messing with business? I care about that as much as your sister cares that she’s standing between me and Lexie.”
“Claire did not make Lexie leave you,” James growled. “All she did was give her a place to live.”
“And if she didn’t have one, she would have come home to me. So you want to know what’s bad for our partnership? Your sister and her fool of a husband.”
“Say
that
to his face, Wetherby, and see what it gets you.”
“If I get the chance, I’ll do that.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Nicholas barked a laugh. “Yeah, well.” Taking another run at James, he said, “But no more than your sister.”
He knew the moment his friend had given in to his temper. Anger glittered in brandy eyes drained of all warmth and his mouth curled into a sneer. “No wonder she left you. You’re nothing but an arrogant jackass, and a mean drunk. I can see why you can’t keep a woman.”
Nicholas launched himself off his stool with a roar and hit James in the chest. He wasn’t sure what he hit him with. He might have hit him with his head. James grunted an expletive and shoved Nicholas hard.
“Don’t be a fool, Nick. You don’t want to do this.”
“Scared, Campbell?” Nicholas snarled, only to hear John Markland’s words as he placed the bet that had changed Nicholas’s entire world:
Scared, Wetherby?
Christ, no wonder she’d left him. He was no better than the man she had run from.
Instead of pondering the thought, instead of considering how he might change his fortunes, Nicholas took another swing at James, and quite by accident, caught him on the chin. He’d been aiming for his stomach.
James lurched into a stool, stumbled, but did not fall. “You are sorely trying my patience,” he growled, baring his teeth as he rubbed away the sting of Nicholas’s blow. “I always considered you a friend, Nick. We’ve been patient with you since Rob died, not required much from you. We didn’t argue when you left for Sacramento, allowing you to handle what you could from the capital, because I could at least count on you to work our business contacts there. I can’t count on you for anything now.”
His disappointment stung worse than any blow, mostly because he was right. Nicholas was as feckless and unreliable as he had ever been, and drove away the one person who had stood behind him through all of it, a man who had become a surrogate brother to him. Even when his brother had been alive, Nicholas had been as close to James as he had been to Rob. Now he ruined that, just like he ruined everything else.
You should have done something he’d be proud of
, Lexie’s voice rang in his ears. She’d offered him absolution only to leave him in pain and despair.
He hated her.
Howling with fury, Nicholas picked up a chair and flung it at James’s head. A part of him was relieved when he missed.
“Hey! Get him out of here!” the bartender shouted.
James shot forward and delivered two quick punches to Nicholas’s midsection.
He doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. James was stronger than even Nicholas gave him credit for. Christ, he might just retch.
James grabbed him by the shoulder, dragged him from the saloon, and motioned to a cab-for-hire. As it approached, he said, “You know, Nick, I’ve half a mind to go ahead and let you strangle on the noose you’ve put around your neck.”
God, he deserved that.
James opened the door to the cab and shoved Nicholas inside. “But I won’t. Go home. Get sober. Get yourself together. You know where I am when you’re ready,” he said, slamming the door shut, leaving Nicholas to his melancholy.
Morning light streamed through the lace kitchen curtains when Claire came to talk to her. As she entered the room, she waved the servants away. “I’d like a word with you, Lexie.”
Lexie turned miserable eyes in Claire’s direction. “Of course,” she responded immediately, though she realized she would be forced to confront her misery, and would be forced to do it in front of Claire. She liked and respected Claire, and she wanted Claire to feel the same way. As long as the truth of her relationship with Nicholas remained unspoken between them, Lexie could pretend she wasn’t a fallen woman.
