The Virgin Secretary: A Billionaire Romance

by Cross, Veronica

  “Olivia, you cannot mope about,” Connie urged her. “You barely knew the man. The amount of grieving you are doing is disproportionate to the circumstances.”

  “Who are you to lecture me on grief?” Olivia yelled back. “Get out and do not return!”

  Olivia knew her older sister was right, but she could not shake the sense of guilt which was smothering her.

  Whatever do I have to feel guilty for? She asked herself, but she had no answer for the feeling. All she knew was that she somehow felt responsible for Cecil’s horrific death.

  That is absurd. You are simply experiencing the emotions everyone feels when a dear friend passes, she told herself but she could not convince herself that was the truth.

  On the day before the funeral, Alexander Coville came calling, his hat in his hands.

  “I wished to pay my respects to you, Miss Vangess,” he told her sincerely, his sparkling eyes dull for the first time since she had met him.

  “To me?” Olivia had echoed. “He was your dearest friend.”

  Alex hung his head, and Olivia realized that his stunning jade eyes were filled with tears.

  “Would you care to escort me on a short walk?” he asked, and Olivia found herself nodding in agreement.

  “Tell Mama,” she whispered at Connie. Her sister opened her mouth to speak, but Olivia had disappeared before she heard the words.

  “Cecil and I grew up together, that is true,” Alex told her, extending his arm for her to take. Without hesitation, she accepted the gesture, turning to watch his mouth as he spoke.

  “I always fancied him to be my best mate. We attended school together, went boating and riding with one another. We played badminton and tennis weekly. I considered him my sidekick, and I thought we were brothers to one another. In retrospect, I suppose I always bullied him somewhat.”

  Olivia paused to regard him, surprised at the confession. Alexander Coville did not seem the type of man who would admit to his own wrongdoings.

  “How so?” she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

  “Perhaps it was akin to a sibling rivalry relationship. Surely you and your sister are prone to bouts of squabbling from time to time. Yet I think I sometimes pushed him too far.”

  They continued their constitution toward the end of the property where Alex’s coach awaited.

  “Why are you telling me of this?” Olivia asked after a moment of quiet ensued. Alex cleared his throat and glanced embarrassed at the dirt under his mutton boots.

  “Perhaps I have become reflective in his death,” he replied carefully. “Perhaps it is shame.”

  Olivia felt her head jerk up at the word.

  He feels shame just as you do. It is a natural occurrence. You are not alone in your whirlwind of emotions.

  He glanced up at Olivia, and a spark flew through her as she acknowledged his nearness to her. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her cobalt eyes and remained on her cheek.

  “You are very lovely, Olivia,” he told her softly. “Cecil had a great affection for you.”

  Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She did not fully comprehend why Alexander Coville was standing before her, but she could sense the current of energy flowing through them.

  Quickly and without warning, as if he had said too much, Alex jumped into the carriage and ordered the driver off. Olivia watched him, a tingling sensation in her stomach.

  That was utterly strange, she decided, turning away from the gate and back toward the plantation house. As she allowed herself back into the foyer, Arthur stepped out from behind the weeping willows where he had been listening to his daughter and Alexander Coville.

  Was Cecil Green’s death an accident? It certainly sounded like Alexander Coville was confessing to something more sinister, does it not? Arthur thought, tracing his fingers along his lips. Another thought occurred to him.

  I was under the impression that Alexander Coville was engaged to Vivian Collier. If so, why is he making eyes at my daughter?

  A stab of fury coursed through Arthur.

  If he thinks he can use and abuse my daughter, he is in for a morbid surprise.

  “My mother tells me that your father is friends with Arthur Vangess,” Vivian mentioned casually as they sipped tea on the terrace. Alex blinked and glanced at her uncomprehendingly.

  “I do not believe that is so. How could they be? The Vangess’ merely moved here a month ago.”

  “No, darling, before that. The Vangess’ lived in Houma many years ago.”

  Again, Alex was confused by her evaluation.

  “No, Viv. Your mother is mistaken.”

  “Not according to mama. She says there is a sordid tale associated with them, but I am sure you know of it.”

  Annoyed now, Alex set his cup on the saucer and stared at her. Alex had little patience for the flapping mouths of the town’s women.

  “Out with it, Vivian. Obviously, you are bubbling over with desire to spread the gossip. What hogwash is your meddling mother feeding you now?”

  Vivian pouted and sat back in her wicker chair, angered by the name calling.

  “My mama does not meddle, and it is not gossip!” she replied hotly. “Do not take it out on me because your father was a murder suspect.”

  Astounded, Alex’s mouth dropped open, and he began to laugh.

  “A murder sus – Vivian do you know who my father is? He owns the Citizens Bank of Houma for heaven’s sake. Who told you such a vicious lie?”

  “It is not a lie!” She shrieked, pounding her fists on the table. The china rattled precariously at the action, but Alex did not notice as they glared at one another.

  “It is in all of the periodicals from twenty years ago. I saw them myself!”

  Alex’s laughter began to diminish as he realized that Vivian was not playing a cruel joke on him.

  “Wh – what did your mother tell you?” he demanded, his face flushed.

  “Oh? Now you believe my mama?”

  “Vivian!”

  “All right, settle down. She told me that he and Arthur Vangess were as thick as thieves. They attended military school together, and when your father returned to his Louisiana roots, Arthur Vangess decided to follow suit. A wife was sent to him from New York, and they began to raise their family here.”

  He stared at her skeptically.

  If Constance and Olivia Vangess lived her before, I surely would have met them. It is just what I thought; a silly old wives’ tale for the bored women of Houma.

  “Oh, is that a fact?” he replied cynically and Vivian held up her hand as she pressed her lips to the dainty flowered cup. Alex waited impatiently for her to take a sip of her tea. She seemed to relish in having his undivided attention for the first time outside the boudoir and took her time picking up the tale.

  “Vivian!” he finally yelled, and she jumped slightly.

  “Well…” Vivian drawled, her southern twang grinding on his taut nerves. “Suddenly men began turning up dead under very strange circumstances. Their throats were slashed in alleyways, their trousers undone. It was very Jack the Ripper in reverse and of course, before Jack the Ripper. There seemed to be a sexual nature to the crimes, but of course, that was never proven. Six men in total, their murder never caught.”

  “Vivian, will you please move along to the part regarding my father?”

  “I am getting there, Alex. My goodness you are a picture of impatience today. Now I have lost my train of thought.”

  “Vivian! So help me God – “

  “Ah yes,” she continued, smiling beguilingly. “Well during the final killing, the man responsible bared his face to a passerby who gave an accurate description to the police. Perhaps you have not noticed but your father and Arthur Vangess bear a striking resemblance to one another with the dark hair and blue eyes I suppose, but I daresay your father is much more dashing and distinguished. I always imagined your father- “

  “Vivian, can you possibly maintain focus on one
tale at a time please?” Alex implored, his patience extremely thin. She scowled at him.

  “A sketch was released, and suddenly both men, your father, and Arthur Vangess became a suspect in these terrible murders.”

  “Is that all? A sketch of a man who may or may not have committed several murders looked like my father and Arthur Vangess?” Alex sighed, irritated that he had given his ear to such tripe. “Dear Lord, Vivian, you must tell your mother to find something to occupy her mind other than mindless blather.”

  “No, that is not all!” Vivian snapped. “Arthur Vangess told the police that your father had confessed to him two of the murders.”

  “What? That is preposterous!” Alex cried. “How could he say something so absurd? My father could not gut a turkey at Christmas!”

  Alex knew that his words were chalked full of lies. If anyone had the ability to be a cold-blooded murderer, it was Harvey Coville, but Alex would never say such a thing aloud. Vivian shrugged.

  “I do not know but obviously, nothing amounted from Arthur Vangess’ accusations, and before there could even be an arrest considered, the Vangess’ had left for the East Coast.”

  “Why do you suppose they returned?” Alex almost whispered, the question more for his own benefit that Vivian’s.

  “I do not know, darling but they are barely here a fortnight and look, another death. It seems quite the coincidence, does it not?”

  “Cecil was not murdered!” Alex retorted hotly, jumping to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Vivian called, dismayed.

  “I must get to the bottom of this nonsense!”

  “Mr. Coville, what are you doing here?” Olivia was stood back to regard him suspiciously. Inwardly, her heart was ready to explode with joy.

  Is he planning something coming here twice in one day? Surely he is not here to see me again. He is nearly betrothed to Vivian Collier, and this is highly inappropriate.

  Olivia opened her mouth to say those words when Alex craned his neck to look behind her.

  “Is your father present, Miss Vangess? I must speak to him urgently.”

  A stab of disappointment flowed through her, and she was ashamed of the reaction.

  Of course he is not here to see you again. He is nearly engaged to Vivian Collier, and this is highly inappropriate, she reminded herself. She shook her head apologetically.

  “I am afraid that father has been at the office in Houma all day. He may return for dinner, but that is not always so. May I leave a message for him?”

  “No, thank you,” Alex replied, spinning on his heel. “I will find him there.”

  Without so much as a goodbye, Alex boarded his lone horse and retreated toward the city through the muddy paths of the bayou. As she closed the door, Olivia turned to see Connie coming down the stairs.

  “Was that Alex Coville again?” she asked in shock. “Is he not betrothed to – “

  “Vivian Collier. Not yet but close enough,” Olivia sighed. Connie’s hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “He has a poor reputation for how he treats women, Livvy,” the older sister warned. “Do not be swayed by his charms.”

  “You needn’t worry, Connie. He was looking for father, not me.”

  Connie’s shoulders sagged visibly with relief.

  “What did he wish with father?”

  “I haven’t a clue, but he seemed quite distracted.”

  The sisters shrugged at one another and turned down the west wing hall on the ground floor toward the kitchen. Mary Vangess stepped out from under the stairs, wringing her hands nervously.

  If Alex Coville is seeking out Arthur, it must mean he has learned of what occurred here twenty years ago. I had hoped that atrocity was behind us. Oh, Arthur, why did you need to return to this God forsaken land?

  Mary slowly walked toward the front door and opened it, staring out into the vast front of the plantation.

  I do not know if I have the strength to endure another investigation, more accusations, and scrutiny. The girls are old enough now that they will understand all that is happening. I cannot shield them from the truth about their father any longer.

  Chapter Six

  This one had struggled, seeing the knife before it plunged into his carotid artery but it had been futile. The blood loss was too fast, pouring relentlessly down his cotton shirt.

  “Why?” he breathed, choking on the single word. The figure smiled terrifyingly and shrugged as if to apologize for the inconvenience of stealing his life. As stealthily as it had appeared, the shadow vanished into the night, leaving behind the weapon as always.

  “Have you seen this?” Vivian gasped, dropping the Houma Citizen at his feet as Alex answered the front door.

  “Shh!” he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside into the courtyard. “My father has yet to wake and take notice of the lies printed in that paper!”

  “Lies?” Vivian echoed. “It is a strange coincidence that a man died in precisely the same fashion as the murders in 1870, is it not?”

  “That is precisely what it is, Vivian. A coincidence. Why are you here this morning pre-dawn?” he demanded, fury lighting his handsome face. “I did not take you for one to gloat at someone else’s misfortune!”

  Vivian’s face turned ashen at the accusation, and the wind seemed to escape her body.

  “Oh, darling, I would never…” she breathed, tears filling her light blue eyes. “I merely came to forewarn your family of what is to come.”

  “Yes, my family is well aware of the impending scrutiny and slander this murder will bring upon us,” Alex replied, sighing heavily. He recalled the look in his mother’s eyes when she confirmed the story Vivian had recounted.

  “We tried desperately to keep this sickening affair from you, Alex. You were but a babe and people were awful, just awful to you, despite you only being three. It took many years to undo what Arthur Vangess had done.”

  “Why did he do it, mama?” Alex implored. “Surely he must have had a reason.”

  “Indeed, we have our suspicions. Obviously, the first thought which came to our minds were that he was the killer and looking to shift blame. The sketch bore an uncanny resemblance to him also, but it seemed so blatantly bold for the real murderer to do such a thing. Your father speculated that Arthur was simply trying to stir up enough doubt to secure an arrest which is ultimately what he did. We never got any true answers, especially when the Vangess’ fled for New York. Mind you, the killings did end so we always wondered…”

  “Darling, did you hear me?” Vivian urged. “Your father is calling out to you.”

  Whirling, Alex saw his father on the stoop, staring coldly him.

  “Alexander bid goodbye to your lady and return to the house this instant!” Harvey bellowed his face beet red with anger.

  “Goodbye, Vivian,” Alex said, turning away. “And I mean goodbye. Please do not come by here again.”

  “Alex?” she called to his retreating back, but he did not turn. “Alex!”

  He closed the door to face his father. Despite knowing he was in for a severe tongue lashing, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  I should have ended things with Vivian a long while ago.

  “What have I told you of fornication prior to marriage?” Harvey snarled, but Alex was barely listening.

  What I am now facing are two very real possibilities. The first is that my father is a deranged murderer who has been hiding his blood lust for two decades. The second option states that Arthur Vangess is the true Courtyard Cutthroat. If that is the case, then Olivia is in great danger, and I must save her from her father.

  “Father, what a terrible piece to allow in your publication!” Connie declared, slapping the periodical upon the breakfast table with force. “I thought the Coville's were your friends!”

  Arthur turned to snarl at his eldest, dropping his fork to the table with a sharp clang.

  “How dare you speak in such a sassy tone
to me?” he yelled, backhanding her sharply across the face. Mary winced and covered her mouth, fearful that she may be the next recipient of such a smack.

  “Arthur!” she whispered, but Connie did not falter, much accustomed to his outbursts of rage. As if she had not been interrupted, she continued her tirade.

  “Slap me if you must, father, but that is hardly an answer for this ridiculous article. You are slandering the name of a very successful business man!”

  Arthur rose to his full height, but even so, he did not tower over her by much. Connie stared defiantly back at him as if daring him to strike again.

  To Olivia and Mary’s stunned surprise, Arthur seemed to lose his fire under his oldest daughter’s rigid look.

  “You haven’t the faintest notion of how a newspaper is to be run, Constance,” he told her, resuming his seat as if a minor incident had not occurred. “You must write catching headlines to sell.”

  “At the expense of your friends?” Constance demanded. “This is essentially stating that Harvey Coville is a cold-blooded murderer!”

  “If you smell smoke, Constance, there is very likely a fire nearby. The man has been looked at for the very same crimes not two decades ago.”

  “At your hand!” Connie exploded. She threw her hand up in exasperation and stormed from the kitchen, unwilling to listen to another one of her father’s excuses.

  “What does she mean by that, father?” Olivia asked. Arthur did not answer. He downed the rest of his tea and glared at his wife.

  “If you had granted me sons instead of daughters, we would not be surrounded with such insolence day after day,” he informed her. Mary was stung by his words, tears pooling her gentle hazel eyes as he left the house without a good-bye.

  “Mama, what did Connie mean?”

  “Olivia, this is hardly lady-like conversation for the breakfast table or any table for that matter. Please do not bring up such atrocities again.”

  “Mama, I did not – “

  But Mary had already escaped into the sanctuary of the kitchen, leaving Olivia alone with the newspaper. She cringed as she stared at it, mustering her willpower not to snatch it up and begin reading.