Her emotions must be on edge after the long voyage and the drama of meeting her father for the first time.
Of course that was it. What else could it be?
CHAPTER 4
Randall closed the door to his study and leaned back against the wood. Even with his eyes closed, nothing could erase the image of his wife’s furious face. That was one conversation he never wanted to repeat.
What a fool he’d been to hide his past from her. But in all honesty, he never once imagined his daughter crossing the ocean to seek him out. As far as he knew, she wanted nothing to do with him. In all these years, she had never acknowledged his letters nor made any attempt to contact him. Not even for money.
So what on earth had brought her here now?
“I’ve traveled a long way to meet my father, a man I’d long believed to be dead, and whom I only recently learned was in fact alive.” Emma’s jarring words came back to him. Her grandparents had told her he was dead? He knew the Bartletts blamed him for Loretta’s death, but to tell Emma such a lie seemed low even for them.
Randall crossed the room to the table that held a decanter of his favorite whiskey. With unsteady hands, he poured a good amount into a glass and took a long swallow, welcoming the burn at the back of his throat. It was imperative to gain control over his emotions if he were to view the situation with clarity. But faced with the child he’d all but abandoned over twenty years ago, the floodgates of guilt had opened, unearthing all the toxic emotions he’d thought long buried.
Especially the pain of Loretta’s last words. “Take care of our daughter, Randall. Make sure she knows how much I love her.”
Randall raked a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry, Loretta,” he whispered aloud, as though she could hear him. “Sorry I wasn’t the man you believed me to be.”
He sat down at his desk and dropped his head into his hands.
The vision of his beautiful daughter, with her dark hair and blue eyes so similar to his own, haunted him. Part of him longed to see her again, to spend time with her, get to know the woman she’d become. But his more practical side cringed at the scandal her arrival could mean for his political career at this crucial time in his campaign. He could only imagine the backlash if the press ever learned that the self-proclaimed family man had abandoned his infant daughter, fled the country, and left her behind.
What manner of cad would do such a thing?
Randall drained the rest of his glass with one gulp. He had absolutely no answer to that question. And until he could figure out a suitable reply, he’d have to avoid seeing his daughter again.
If only he could erase the memory of the hurt in her eyes as she’d walked out the door.
The houses along Forest Hill Road burst with the color of newly budding flowers, yet Corinne barely noticed them as she strode along the walkway. Normally the approaching summer put a lightness in her heart and a spring in her already jaunty step. But today, as she walked through her neighborhood, too many unwelcome thoughts burdened her mind, so that not even the beautiful weather could lift her spirits.
Ever since that mysterious woman had shown up at their home claiming to be Papa’s daughter, her father had not been himself. And Mama had taken to her room, barely speaking to anyone.
When Corinne had tried to question Papa about the woman, he’d put her off, saying he didn’t wish to discuss the matter. Now almost twenty-four hours had passed, and Corinne would not be ignored any longer. She would demand to know what was going on. If not for her sake, then for Marianne’s. Her little sister had latched on to the idea of another sibling faster than a pickpocket snatching a wallet. She’d even begun to spin all sorts of silly fantasies where they welcomed this foreigner into the heart of their family.
Corinne shuddered at the thought. The last thing she needed was another sibling, especially one as striking as Emmaline with her raven curls and mesmerizing eyes. After Marianne’s illness and subsequent paralysis, Corinne had enough trouble overcoming feelings of being forgotten. Invisible. Though she understood the need to put her sister first, Corinne was looking forward to finally being the focus of her parents’ attention at her upcoming high school graduation. She’d worked hard to achieve top marks in order to make her parents proud. She could already picture the joy on their faces as she received her diploma.
Mama was planning a party in her honor, and all the well-to-do families in the city would be invited. Plenty of eligible young men would attend, but truly only one man mattered to Corinne. She would let nothing ruin her chance to be the belle of the ball for once.
Maybe then Will Munroe would finally take notice of her.
With determination, Corinne turned onto the walkway that led up to her house, strode around to the rear door, and entered the kitchen. She didn’t often come in this way, only when she was trying to avoid her parents. She hung her wrap on a peg by the door and scanned the room for the cook or any of the maids. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, though the lingering scent of baked apples told her that Cook had already prepared tonight’s dessert.
Corinne headed down the hall that led to her father’s study. This time she would insist he answer her questions. After all, she wasn’t a child any longer, having just passed her eighteenth birthday. And she would not be kept in the dark about a long-buried family secret. She deserved to know the truth.
They all did.
The door to the study was slightly ajar, and as Corinne approached, voices drifted into the hall.
“This is a most unfortunate turn of events, Randall. Right at a time when your popularity is at its peak.” Grandfather Fenton’s voice oozed displeasure. “This girl could ruin everything. Voters won’t take kindly to a man who appears to have abandoned a child, no matter how long ago it was. I cannot stress enough the importance of keeping this information out of the press.”
“Do you not think I know that?” Papa snapped. “That’s why I’ve brought you both here. To help me strategize my next move.”
Both? Who else was with them? Could it be . . . ?
“If I may, sir, perhaps we could let it be known that your niece is visiting from abroad. After all, isn’t that how she first introduced herself to your housekeeper? That way the girl’s presence would create no idle speculation.”
Corinne’s heart gave a flip. There was no mistaking that baritone.
Will Munroe had been working as her father’s assistant at the university for more than two years now. In addition, he was one of Papa’s best campaigners during his run for mayor. Will had always been polite whenever they came in contact, but lately Corinne dared hope that he’d begun to notice she was no longer a child. She smoothed a hand over her hair, wishing she’d taken time to freshen up after her walk.
“I agree,” Grandfather said. “That might be the best approach.”
“But can we be sure Emmaline will go along with the idea?” Will asked.
“I couldn’t say, since I’ve only met her once for five minutes.” Exasperation crackled in her father’s voice.
“Perhaps you should pay her a visit,” Grandfather said. “Make it clear in no uncertain terms what is expected of her.”
“And if she doesn’t agree?”
“Let’s not worry about that just yet. If she’s looking for money, that might be one way to keep her quiet.”
Corinne put a hand to her mouth. Was that woman blackmailing Papa?
“Speculation is pointless. We won’t know until I talk to her. I’ll make arrangements to meet with her tomorrow.”
At the sound of chairs scraping the floor, Corinne quickly tiptoed down the corridor and slipped into the parlor, where she picked up her embroidery and took a seat facing the hallway. When footsteps sounded minutes later, she looked up.
“Good evening, Miss Moore.” Will stood in the open doorway, smiling at her. He looked very handsome in his dark jacket and linen shirt, with his chestnut hair sweeping his brow. “I hope you are faring well.”
“Very well. And you
?”
“Excellent as always, thank you.”
“My father has you working late today. Don’t tell me he’s obsessing about the next election already.” She gave a light laugh, but her hands trembled. Why did she always sound like a ninny when she tried to talk to Will?
His lips twitched. “With just cause. The campaign is already well underway. We need to plan our moves carefully if we wish to unseat Mayor Church.” He hovered on the threshold, his green eyes studying her as though waiting for her to say something more.
Corinne set her needlepoint aside and rose. “Would you care to join me for some tea or coffee?” Her palms grew damp. Would he think her invitation too bold?
“That’s most kind of you, but I must be getting home. My mother is expecting me.”
“Of course. Forgive me.”
The oldest of six children, Will had taken on the responsibility of providing for his family since his father’s death five years ago, a sacrifice Corinne admired greatly. The fact that he was needed by his family had kept Will from going to war, which was an added benefit in Corinne’s view, and likely in Mrs. Munroe’s as well.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Miss Moore.”
“Please, you must call me Corinne.” She took a few steps closer. Close enough to see the golden flecks in his green eyes.
“Very well, Corinne, thank you for the invitation. Perhaps another time.” He smiled and gave a slight bow. “Good evening.”
A sigh escaped her as Will disappeared down the hall. Would he ever feel comfortable enough in her presence to let his guard down? To speak the secrets of his heart that sometimes shone in the depths of his eyes? Or would he consider a friendship with her a betrayal of her father’s trust?
Corinne waited until the front door closed before venturing back to her father’s study. Papa must still be inside with Grandfather. Maybe if she confronted them both, one of them would tell her how Papa could possibly have a grown daughter they’d never heard of and why she had turned up here now.
With purpose, she approached the door and knocked. Immediately the murmur of voices stopped.
“Come in.”
Corinne lifted her chin and entered. The comforting smell of her grandfather’s pipe tobacco gave her courage. She looked from one man to the other. “May I speak with you both?”
“Corinne.” Her father frowned. “It must be important for you to disturb our meeting.”
She didn’t miss the note of censure in his voice. “It is.” She came forward and took a seat across from Papa’s desk. “I want to know more about that woman who came here the other day. Is she your daughter, as she claims?” She held her father’s gaze, aware that her grandfather had stiffened on his chair.
“The matter is no concern of yours, child,” Grandfather said. “Your father will handle it.”
“I beg to differ.” Though quivering inside, she held her ground. “If this woman is related to me, I believe I have a right to know.”
“I agree with Corinne.” Mama appeared in the open doorway. “I think it’s time for her to hear the whole story.”
The coldness in her mother’s voice sent chills up Corinne’s spine. Mama could be a formidable woman when the necessity arose, and right now, her family’s future appeared to be in jeopardy.
Papa sagged against the back of his chair. “Very well. Someone should get Marianne so I only have to repeat the story once.”
“She’s resting now. I’ll fill her in later.” Mama perched on the seat beside Corinne, while Grandfather hovered by the desk, his pipe clenched between his lips.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Papa glanced at Corinne. “I’ve already told your mother most of the details, and I don’t relish reliving that part of my life again.”
Grandfather set his pipe down. “I would actually like to hear the full story myself.”
A vein in Papa’s neck pulsed. At last, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Suffice it to say I was young and foolish and fancied myself in love with a girl whose parents did not approve of me.”
“I still don’t understand that part.” Mama’s brow furrowed. “You were from a good family. Studying law at Oxford. What more could they want?”
“I was Catholic—the wrong religion, according to her parents. And they didn’t trust lawyers. Thought them all to be crooks. I had two big strikes against me.”
“What happened next?” Corinne asked.
“I allowed myself to be swayed by my infatuation for Loretta, and though we were far too young, I gave in to her pleas and agreed to marry her. Soon we were expecting a child. But there were complications and Loretta died not long after giving birth to our daughter.” A muscle twitched in Papa’s jaw. “I had no means to raise the child on my own, so when Loretta’s parents offered to take the baby, I felt it was in Emmaline’s best interest.”
“What about your mother?” Mama asked. “Couldn’t she have helped you?”
Papa looked away. “My mother was not in good health herself. She couldn’t take on the responsibility of an infant. Judith and Felix Bartlett were the best option.”
Corinne frowned. “But I still don’t understand why Emmaline thought you were dead.”
Lines of displeasure formed around Papa’s mouth. “It seems her grandparents thought it better that she believe I had died rather than tell her I’d moved to another country. I wrote several letters over the years, first to the Bartletts, then to Emmaline herself, but the only answer I ever received was a threatening note from Mrs. Bartlett.”
“Did you ever go back to England to try and see the girl?” Mama asked.
“No. The Bartletts made it clear they wanted Emmaline to have no contact with me. I felt it better to leave well enough alone.” Papa jerked to his feet and ran a hand over his jaw. “I never dreamed she would show up here out of the blue.”
Grandfather folded his arms over his broad chest. “Do you think she’s looking for money?”
“I doubt it, though the thought has crossed my mind.”
“If she hasn’t contacted you again, that seems an unlikely conclusion.” Mama rose to pace the room.
“No matter. I’ve already decided to see Emmaline tomorrow and attempt to ascertain what she wants. I intend to impress upon her the necessity that her identity remain a secret.”
Mama shook her head. “God help us all if she refuses to comply. It could be the ruin of everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“Let’s not jump to the worst-case scenario, my dear. The least I can do is give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.”
“I only hope your trust is not misplaced, Randall,” Grandfather said. “I do not intend to let a youthful mistake on your part jeopardize the years it took to get you to this point in your career. Not when the mayor’s seat is within our grasp.”
Corinne straightened her spine. And I don’t intend to let another daughter usurp my rightful place in this family.
Thankfully Corinne had her mother and her grandfather on her side. They seemed equally unhappy about this turn of events. And if they wanted Emmaline gone, Corinne had no doubt that the woman would soon be on a boat back to England.
Emmaline and her schemes would be no match for Harcourt Fenton and his daughter.
CHAPTER 5
Jonathan mopped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief, then took a moment to survey the results of his labor. All the dead leaves and other debris from the winter sat in one large pile on the back lawn. The flower beds around the perimeter of the property now looked neat and tidy. He bent to scoop some of the leaves into a large bushel basket he’d found in the garage.
As soon as he finished here, he planned to find Emma and convince her to go on an outing with him. It had been two days since she’d confronted her father and all she’d done in the interim was mope around Mrs. Chamberlain’s parlor on the off chance that Randall would call. Jonathan didn’t have the heart to tell her that her father might not contact her and that Randa
ll likely hoped she would give up and return to England.
A sentiment Jonathan had to admit he shared. But knowing Emma as he did, he doubted she was ready to quit just yet.
After he’d finished tidying the yard and had stored the tools in the shed, Jonathan changed into a clean shirt and pants and headed into the house. Thankfully, the women boarders had gotten used to seeing him working around the property, and Mrs. Chamberlain had given him permission to come into the parlor to visit with Emma.
As he entered the cozy room, he noted with relief that only Emma and their landlady occupied the space. He wouldn’t have to waste time making small talk with the other boarders. Not that most of them weren’t perfectly nice women.
It was just that he only had eyes for one particular resident.
Mrs. Chamberlain looked up from her sewing as he came in. “There you are. I hope you’re ready for a break, young man. You’ve been working hard all morning.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. I came to ask Emma if she’d fancy a walk.”
“A splendid idea,” the landlady exclaimed. “The fresh air will do her a world of good.”
Emma scowled and set aside the book she’d been reading. “But what if my . . . uncle calls while I’m out?”
She hadn’t told their landlady the true nature of her relationship to Randall yet, saying she didn’t feel at liberty to do so until she made a better connection with her father.
“Not to worry. I’ll take a message and make sure he knows you’re eager to hear from him.” Mrs. Chamberlain rose from her chair and approached Jonathan. “But you must be parched after all that work. How about a glass of iced tea before you set out?”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. Chamberlain returned with a tray and three glasses, which she set on the table in front of them. “So, tell me a little more about yourself, Jonathan,” she said as she handed them their beverages. “You said you and Emma grew up together. Did you live with her family?”
The Highest of Hopes Page 4