Jade

by Jill Marie Landis

  Jade turned back to her packing. “There’ll be no wedding,” she said softly.

  “But you spent the night with him!”

  “No, I spent the night at his home. I did not sleep with him, Babs. At least in that respect he’s a gentleman.”

  “I know you didn’t sleep with him, but who else is ever going to believe that?”

  At that Jade spun and faced her friend with a pointed stare. “Who is going to find out? Or do you plan to tell anyone about this?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Jade. Harrington knows. And that little ferret of a reporter probably knows by now. What about the servants?”

  Jade drew the belt of her robe tight and ran her hands through her hair. “He doesn’t have any servants.” She watched Babs for a moment as the other girl considered the situation. At Babs’s look of skepticism, Jade crossed the room and took hold of her friend’s hands. “Nothing happened. You have to believe me. I stayed for a meal. We talked. I helped him choose clothes to wear out for dinner, and then it started raining. He refused to take me home in the downpour.”

  “But he looked perfect to me. Just what you need—rich, handsome, virile, and available.” A frown creased Babs’s brow. “Isn’t he?”

  For a moment Jade was taken aback. Jason Harrington had not admitted to being married. But then again, she had not asked.

  “He didn’t mention a wife.”

  “I don’t imagine a man alone with a beautiful redhead would bring it up. Didn’t you ask?”

  Jade let go of Babs and began to pace the room. “I don’t believe this is happening. I should have never gotten in your carriage yesterday in the first place.” She swerved abruptly and faced Babs again. “This was your idea, remember, not mine. I was so nervous I don’t know what I said at first. Whatever you’re planning, whatever twisted scheme you’ve devised, you can forget it.” When Babs looked about to argue, Jade snapped her satchel closed and began sorting through the box of books on the desk near the window.

  A month ago her life had been simple. She had time to study, all the serenity she needed, and companions knowledgeable in all the things she valued. Regretfully, she realized now she had taken those days in Paris for granted. When would she ever be left alone with her books again?

  Babs waved toward the satchel and shook her head. “Don’t be crazy. You have nowhere to go, Jade. Besides, that man was looking at you like you were a sugar plum and today was Christmas.”

  “Forget it.” Jade began folding a dress and stuffing it into the satchel.

  “How can you forget it now? I never told you to spend the night there. I only wanted you to meet him and get a ride home, not disappear for the entire evening and leave me to whisk you away in the nick of time—”

  “Then why didn’t you come after me?”

  “Jade, please calm down.”

  “You seem to forget you’re the one that left me there in the first place. And then that reporter showed up out of the blue! What a terrible coincidence.”

  Babs was suddenly contrite. “Let’s not argue, Jade.” She walked over to stand beside her friend and put a hand on Jade’s shoulder. “Your only worry is how discriminating Harrington will be and whether or not Peterson saw us.”

  “Peterson?”

  “The reporter.”

  Jade contemplated Babs for a moment. “How well do you know this Peterson?”

  Babs colored. “Not well at all. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Just a thought,” Jade said softly. “I’m beginning to think you would go to any lengths to see this through, Babs.”

  “Please trust me, Jade. I got you into this, and now I want to get you out of it. Put your things away and settle in, please? You have nowhere to go, and I’d feel just awful if anything happened to you.”

  The truth of the matter, Jade thought, is that indeed, I have nowhere to go. She shook her head and sighed. Babs was waiting for her answer, standing apologetic and subdued at her shoulder.

  Jade shrugged. “I’ll stay until I can find somewhere else to live, but I’m telling you right now, Babs, I’m still very upset. And just remember, I won’t be part of any more of your plans.”

  JASON TURNED AND smiled thankfully at Matt Van Buren as he finally closed the door on Arnold Peterson. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along. I was plumb out of patience.”

  “Glad to help. If anyone at the Chronicle can uncover any gossip about anyone it’s him. Peterson is one of the best.”

  Jason frowned, recalling the near collision of carriages in the drive, and wondered if he should enlighten his attorney as to the strange events of the night before. Hesitant to start a fire where there might not be a flame, he remained silent on the issue of his mysterious redheaded caller and instead nodded toward the stairs.

  “Come on up while I change, then I’ll rustle up some breakfast. I’m not used to doing business before I eat.”

  Matt smiled amiably and jogged up the steps behind Jason. “I thought we’d go out.”

  “For breakfast? There’s plenty left from what you sent over.”

  “People take their meals in hotels and restaurants here in town—sort of a habit that came on with the forty-niners. There’s every sort of food imaginable, from home cooking to Chinese or Italian—anything you’d like. I thought you might enjoy What Cheer House. It’s clean, and they have good simple food.”

  “At this point, it doesn’t matter. I could eat a whole side of beef.” Jason paused, frowning down at his dress trousers and bare feet. “Do I have to dress up?”

  Matt laughed. “Not at all. Wear whatever you’re comfortable in.”

  Twenty minutes later Jason had donned his own comfortable Levi’s, a clean flannel shirt, and a jacket lined with sheepskin. The men were seated in Matt’s open carriage. Interrupting himself to point out interesting sights as they passed, Matt outlined his plans for the sale of the property Jason now possessed, and appraised him of the money and other assets that would come to him as soon as all the transactions took place.

  Attentive to Matt all the while, Jason stared at the passing kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that was San Francisco. Matt skillfully guided the carriage along the Embarcadero, the street that fronted the wharf. Flags of every color and description flew from the forest of mizzen masts of the ships harbored along the waterfront. Jason could not begin to identify them all. Matt pointed out the brothels, gin mills, and honkytonks clustered in the six blocks between Pacific, Kearny, and Broadway. He warned Jason to stay away from the district at night, unless he wanted to run the risk of being shanghaied and wake up to find himself halfway to Manila.

  The exhilarating sights and sounds of the city could not keep Jason’s mind from slipping back to the memory of Jade Douglas. She was a looker—that was for certain—and he had nearly convinced himself that her impromptu visit had had no other purpose than what she had claimed; she and her friend had only wanted to welcome him to town, but things had gone awry when the brunette had suddenly left Jade on his doorstep.

  Even with as little fashion knowledge as he had, he could tell that her clothes were made of fine fabrics. She obviously had money of her own. A woman who had intended to please him, to butter him up in order to get at his money would not have been as determined to leave as she had. At least he didn’t think so. There was no way J.T. could dismiss her innocence. The more he thought about it, the more he believed her excuse for showing up stranded on his doorstep. Besides, he had seen her friend Babs for himself. She had seemed spontaneous, to say the least.

  Jason found himself wanting to ask Matt about Jade Douglas, but he knew that would only lead to questions about where and how they had met. Ruining Jade’s reputation over his own curiosity wasn’t what he wanted at all. Instead, he tried a different tack.

  “Do you know anybody n
amed Barrett?”

  “I know a Reggie Barrett. Why? Has he offered to buy the place? I know he wants to move up in society, but I know he hasn’t the assets he would need to buy Harrington House.”

  “Just curious. I think Peterson mentioned the name.”

  Matt stared at him for a brief moment and then changed the subject. “What do you think of San Francisco so far?”

  “Too damned many people in one place if you ask me. Can’t be healthy,” Jason mumbled to himself. Away from the waterfront, his interest was immediately taken by an overwhelming building he had seen from the hilltop but had forgotten until now.

  Six stories high, the structure covered an entire city block at the end of Montgomery Street. Forced to slow his carriage due to congestion about the building, Matt pointed out the entrance where foot traffic, riders, and even carriages passed beneath vaulting arches held aloft by ornate columns. Jason had never seen the likes of the place anywhere.

  “That’s the Palace,” Matt volunteered, “just finished. Quite a story behind it, too. William Ralston, the man who built it, owned the Bank of California. Spent years and a fortune on this place, then two months ago, after the bank failed, he went swimming in the bay and drowned. Never got to see it open.”

  Jason craned his neck and held his hat on the back of his head as he tried to view the upper stories. “That’s a damn shame.”

  “There’s a big function to be held there tonight in honor of General Philip Sheridan. How about coming along?”

  “With you?” Somehow Jason could not picture himself moving among men who were used to invitations to such an ostentatious place.

  “Yes. It would be a great way for you to meet people, get the word out about how anxious you are to sell the house and the coffee import business. The top two hundred men in San Francisco—Leland Stanford, Ben Holladay, James Phelan—they’ll all be there. Reggie Barrett will be most likely be there, too.”

  Unimpressed by names, Jason was determined not to go until he heard Matt say, “The women are going to arrive late in the evening for dancing and socializing.” Matt leaned forward, expertly guiding the rig through the crowded streets. “Be a chance to meet some of the fair ladies of San Francisco.”

  Would the exclusive guest list include Miss Jade Douglas? Jason decided it might just be worth putting on his father’s blasted suit again to find out.

  “J.T., I hope I’m not intruding,” Matt began hesitantly, “but there’s one delicate matter your father left unsettled that I think you need to consider.”

  Jason stiffened, well aware of the delicate matter that Matt alluded to. “Spit it out.”

  “As you’re well aware, your father died intestate—without a will. As his legal heir, you have inherited everything, but your father’s sudden death left the woman he had lived with for nearly twenty years virtually penniless.”

  Jason’s heart hardened of its own volition. His father’s whore. The woman responsible for ruining his parents’ marriage. The reason his mother had suffered divorce and he had been raised without a knowing his father.

  He owed her nothing.

  “I suppose she’s after money.”

  Matt looked grave. “Not at all. In fact, she’s never even contacted me. I went by and visited with her two weeks ago, and she asked if you had responded to my telegram. I told her you were on the way to California. That’s all she asked about.”

  “So?”

  “So I think that your father would have wanted you to see her provided for. I think you at least owe her a visit. Meet her. Talk to her.”

  J.T. slid to the edge of the seat and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. With his head down he said, “I don’t think so.” He stared at the floor of the buggy and tried to dispel the feeling that his mother would somehow be ashamed of him at the moment. Reneging on his previous thoughts, he said curtly, “Send her some money.” Then he added, “Whatever she needs.”

  “I still think you ought to meet her,” Matt said softly.

  Jason slapped his thighs, leaned back again, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Six

  Blessings come in pairs . . .

  Ills never come alone.

  THE NEWLY COMPLETED Palace Hotel at the corner of Montgomery and Market streets was so imposing that Jade forgot her nervousness and became immersed in seeing all there was to see. As the Barretts’s carriage rolled into the hotel’s cobblestoned Grand Court, Babs regaled Jade with information about the place. There were seven hundred rooms in the eight-story building that enclosed an area of two and a half acres.

  “Can you imagine? Four hundred and thirty-seven bathtubs and a water closet in every room? This place has its own artesian wells, five hydraulic elevators, and a dining room one hundred and fifty feet long.” She squirmed in her seat, edging toward the window, nearly crushing Jade in her enthusiasm to see the gaslight streaming from the windows.

  “It is awesome,” Jade admitted as she tugged her skirt—another of Bab’s gowns—from under Babs’s weight on the seat.

  After much apologizing on her friend’s part, Jade had decided to stay at the Barretts’s until the end of the week. As always, her anger at Babs disintegrated when she thought of the many years of friendship that stood behind them.

  After a light luncheon and a long nap, Jade was refreshed enough to consider attending the after-dinner ball for Lieutenant General Philip Sheridan—the Palace Hotel’s first social affair of any importance. At first she had vigorously declined, but when Babs reminded her she might very well run into some of her father’s business associates who might help her discover something about his death. Jade decided it was worth wedging herself into another stoutly boned, long-waisted corset and donning one of Babs’s dresses. She had balked at having her hair rolled and curled, merely tying it back in a simple but elegant figure-eight coil at the nape of her neck.

  “Reggie said he’ll look for us by the door to the ballroom, but if we should get separated in the crush, let’s plan to meet at the refreshment table at midnight,” Babs suggested.

  Jade agreed and reached down to lift the heavy overskirt of pink poult-de-soie draped over vertical rows of white tulle ruffles. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage, assisted by a colorfully garbed hotel footman, Jade adjusted one of the many silk roses that were sewn onto the low-cut neckline.

  She walked alongside Babs until the crush became too great and they were separated. Choosing a quiet alcove off the ballroom floor, Jade surveyed the room. She recognized Leland Stanford, the railroad king, stagecoach monarch Ben Holladay, and James Phelan, millionaire real estate and liquor tycoon, milling about among the other guests. Three hundred gas jets flooded the palatial dining room with light. The ceiling was held aloft by rows of cream-colored columns; both ends of the room were draped with red, white, and blue bunting. Baskets abundant with flowers lined the tables, interspersed with silver trays with pyramids of desserts.

  A virtual regiment of waiters in swallowtail coats and white lisle gloves moved among the crowd, while a uniformed military band filled the great hall with music. Jade smiled to herself and found her toe beginning to tap in time to the music.

  “Jade!”

  She whirled at the sound of her name. Babs was hurrying toward her, with a white-haired gentleman in tow.

  “Oh, Jade, I’m so glad I found you! I was just telling Mr. Ashbury here all about you and he is so anxious to get to know you. Mr. Harold Ashbury, this is Miss Jade Douglas.”

  Babs looked about to burst with excitement. Jade ignored her as she studied the hopeful Mr. Ashbury. His swallow-tailed coat was of expensive cloth, as was his tuck-fronted shirt. The man was bald and freckle-headed, with a hooked nose, rheumy eyes, and blue-veined hands. He leaned forward from the waist, peering at her curiously, inspecting her as clos
ely as one would a piece of merchandise. He had to be nearly seventy.

  “Babs, I—”

  “Isn’t it delightful that I ran into Mr. Ashbury just inside the doorway? He’s recently widowed and you’re here without an escort. The dear man said he’d be thrilled to have your company for the evening.” Babs leaned close to Jade. Still smiling, she hissed through her teeth, “He’s nearly deaf as a post but rich as Croesus.”

  “I can’t . . . ” Jade began, trying not to look at the over-eager Mr. Ashbury while he focused on her décolletage. “I won’t . . . ”

  She felt someone move close behind. “Miss Douglas would love to attend to Mr. Ashbury, but she has promised to introduce me to San Francisco society. Isn’t that right, Miss Douglas?”

  There was no disguising that low, gravelly voice, or the words laced with the soft hint of a drawl. Jade turned and found herself face-to-face with Jason Harrington. And she could not think of a thing to say.

  Babs smiled widely. Jade wanted to deny his words and tell him she would have nothing further to do with him, but one look at Harold Ashbury convinced her not to. Besides, there was still a score to settle with J.T.

  “I . . . I’m afraid Mr. Harrington is correct,” she began hesitantly. “I’m pleased to have met you, Mr. Ashbury, but I did promise . . . ”

  The old gentleman looked so crestfallen that Jade almost relented. But with a parting smile for Ashbury and then a warning scowl meant for Babs, Jade took Jason’s arm and stepped onto the dance floor.

  He was an excellent dancer. His movements were fluid and graceful. He led with confidence as he whirled her about the dance floor. Tonight he was dressed in a suit of elegant black wool and satin-edged lapels and pockets. His black satin tie was perfectly tied, his diamond studs winked against the crisp white shirt. A gold-buttoned black vest completed his attire.

  The sight of him was utterly heart-stopping. She could not help but notice the sly looks the women around them gave him. Their interest did little to douse her anger. If anything, it infuriated her more. He was probably used to women swooning at his feet. Well, not Jade Douglas. She intended to let him know that she would do no such thing.