by Brenda Joyce
"Don't you think you should go to your husband?"
Regina's eyes flashed. "No, I do not."
Edward was silent for a moment. "I see. And when are you planning on seeing Slade? I mean, I can only assume that that is the reason we have come to the city."
"Tomorrow, I think." She was reserved. She did not want to encourage Edward into venturing more deeply into this topic.
Edward could only be gallant. "Would you like me to stay at your uncle's so I can take you to my brother tomorrow?" His voice was soft, despite her tone.
Regina bit her lip. How could he guess that despite the anger, she was just a little bit frightened at the thought of confronting Slade? "You really don't have to do that."
Edward smiled; he was handsome enough to cause the three matronly ladies sitting on the other side of the aisle, who had been stealing peeks at him all afternoon, to turn and stare. Edward gave them all a dimpled grin before continuing. "It will be my pleasure."
Regina couldn't help thinking that if Slade had one ounce of his brother's compassion she would not be in this mess.
The train finally stopped and they disembarked. A steward brought their bags and helped them to the depot's doors, where Regina saw Edward slip him a silver half-dollar. Tipping was expected, of course, but she was surprised that Edward would be so generous- too generous, in fact. A nickel would have sufficed. And Edward had no wealth that she knew of.
Passengers were crowding the street. A dozen hansoms were lined up, waiting to pick up fares, while a crush of cable cars and horse-drawn trolleys offered slower public transportation to those who preferred it. Moments later they were in a cab and Regina had given her uncle's address on California Street.
"Nob Hill?" Edward asked.
"Yes," Regina said, knowing what he was thinking. Nob Hill was lined with spectacular and ostentatious mansions. It hadn't always been that way. When Regina had first come to San Francisco as a little girl, her uncle had resided there, his forty-room home towering over most of the other residences on the street. Several years ago Regina had returned to the city and was shocked to find her uncle's home now greatly reduced in stature, for massive mansions lined California Street, each one bigger than its neighbor.
"Charles Mann lives on Nob Hill, too," Edward said quietly.
Regina tensed. Because she had not discussed Slade, she did not even know where he lived, or where he worked, or what he did precisely. She hesitated, then was careful to keep her tone impersonal. "And Slade?"
"He rents a modest home on Gough Street, although he is hardly ever there. He works late at the office more nights than not, and even goes there at ungodly hours. And he often dines with Mann. I think his house is used solely for sleeping."
Regina swallowed. It was now close to six o'clock. She imagined that soon they might be passing by Mann's residence and that Slade might even be within. She was agitated at the thought. She realized she was perspiring slightly, although it was quite cool out because of the summer fog. "Where is his office?"
"His office is with Mann's, in the Feldcrest Building- which Mann happens to own."
Regina stared out the hansom's window, barely seeing Market Street as they crossed it. The evening rush to get home was not yet over and passing through the intersection took ten minutes. She knew nothing about her husband's life in San Francisco. She did not want to know. But she said, "I don't understand his relationship with this Mr. Mann."
Edward regarded her thoughtfully. "Mann took him in when he was a hoodlum of fifteen."
Regina tried not to be interested, but she was. "What is a hoodlum?"
"There are gangs which rove the streets of the city after dark-and sometimes during the day. They prey on the Chinese mostly, but also on other foreigners. Since the depression, there's been a lot of anger. People feel that the Chinese are responsible for the depression, for the lack of jobs. I doubt if s true."
"That’s sad."
"Yes, it is. I personally think they're good for the city, they're hard and efficient workers, but I wouldn't state such an unpopular opinion publicly. Anyway, the hoodlums are nothing for you to worry about, not unless you go alone to Chinatown at odd hours." He flashed her his winning smile. "Slade came here when he ran away from Miramar as a boy. He was penniless and on the streets and he took up with a gang. Fortunately the gang chose to rob Mann. Mann is an interesting fellow, as you shall see. He's about sixty now-back then he was just out of his prime, but he also grew up in the streets, though it was New York City's east side, not San Francisco's back alleys. He chased the gang off, apprehending Slade. That's how their relationship began."
Regina did not want to be interested. She was very, very angry with her unscrupulous, immoral husband. But she felt a pang of sympathy for a boy who had been rejected so often that he had run away from home and taken to the streets as a 'hoodlum.' Despite herself, she asked, "What happened?"
"I guess Mann saw the good in Slade, or maybe he saw some of his own misspent youth. Instead of turning him over to the police, he took him home. Gave him a bed, a meal, and a job. Slade started out as a messenger boy. Today he runs a good deal of Mann's empire."
Regina blinked. "Just what is it that Mr. Mann does?"
"He made his money in the Comstock during the silver rush in the late fifties and early sixties. And he was smart enough to sell out before it collapsed. He didn't sit on his money either. During the silver-boom years, he owned half of Virginia City. Today he owns the Mann Grande Hotel, which is second only to Ralston's Palace Hotel, as well as the Rancho Nicasio, which is the largest ranch in Marin, and probably a tenth of this city's property. I hear he's a very big investor in the Octopus."
"The Octopus?" Regina said weakly. Slade was this entrepreneur's right-hand man?
"The Southern Pacific is fondly-or not so fondly- called the Octopus," Edward said. "It owns most of the state's transportation, thousands of miles of track, millions of acres of land, and is rather influential in state politics." He smiled wryly. "And that is an understatement, Regina. Anyway, Charles Mann is quite a somebody. He's one of the richest men in San Francisco."
Regina said nothing. But she was even angrier. How dare Slade! He presented himself as if he were one of those hoodlums, but he was no hoodlum-oh, no! Why did he go to such trouble to present himself as a down-and-out rebel when he was actually a respectable businessman?
Edward apparently was reading her thoughts. "Slade sheds his real life like a snake sheds its winter skin whenever he comes home. You might have some trouble recognizing him, Regina."
"That's neither here nor there," she said briskly. 'Frankly, I wouldn't care if he was Charles Mann him
self."
Edward winced.
"We're here," she said, recognizing her uncle's home. While Edward paid the cabbie, Regina alighted, trembling with relief. Brett's home loomed as a sudden and very welcoming refuge, and she wanted to fly up the walk and up the steep front steps and into his arms or her aunt's embrace. But she waited for Edward and the cabbie, who brought their bags.
Her relatives were expecting her, for she had sent a wire just after the disastrous interview with Rick in which she had learned of Slade's desertion, explaining that she was fine and she would be arriving in the city as soon as possible. Still, Regina was surprised when the front door was opened by her aunt herself.
Her aunt Storm, a very tall, stately, handsome woman in her late fifties, shrieked like a young girl and hugged her with abandon, pulling her into the foyer and leaving Edward to amble in on his own. Storm rocked her. Regina clung, finding herself near tears. How she felt like spilling her heart out to her beloved aunt!
"Where have you been?" Storm cried. "We have been sick, sick with worry! Do you know your poor parents are in the middle of the Atlantic this very minute, with no hope of receiving word that you are all right until they arrive in New York?"
"I'm sorry." Regina meant it. She spotted her handsome uncle standing behind his wife, looking both grim and relieved. She recognized the expression well; it was one her own father had worn often enough, although never because of her, but always because of her hoydenish sister-who was now a duchess. Then she remembered Edward.
"Oh, dear," she cried, pulling him forward. Brett now looked acutely suspicious. "Uncle Brett," she said, smiling brilliantly, aware he must be thinking the worst, "you can see that I am fine!"
"Yes, I can see, and I hope you have a damn good explanation for disappearing without a single word."
"I have a very good explanation, but first let me introduce my friend, Edward Delanza."
"Your friend?" Brett asked. He eyed Edward, making no move to shake his hand.
Regina's heart tripped. "He's not exactly my friend," she said, flushing. "He is my brother-in-law."
Edward had conveniently asked to adjourn to his room, claiming that he was very tired from their journey. Regina knew he understood her dilemma. She now stood in the center of the large library, wringing her hands. Her aunt was beside her, too shocked to sit down. Brett was the only one functioning-and he was pouring himself a double Scotch whiskey.
"Let me get this straight," he said, turning to face her. "You are married to Slade Delanza?"
She nodded.
"Let's go back. You jumped from the train during the robbery and lost your memory in the fall. And you were mistaken for this other woman, Elizabeth Sinclair, by the Delanzas this entire time."
She nodded again.
"When did you regain your memory?" Brett asked tersely.
"Just a few days ago," she whispered.
"I want the best damn doctor in the state, and I will have him here tomorrow." His expression softened. "Are you all right?"
"Yes."
Suddenly he frowned. "Delanza?"
Regina tensed. "Do you know of him?"
"I know him. Not well. We run in the same circles, obviously, but he keeps his distance from everyone except for Charles Mann. I actually know little about Wm, except for the fact that he's a hard worker and dedicated to his employer." Brett frowned again. "What in hell possessed you to marry so precipitously? It's not like you. Did you know who you were when you married him?"
Regina could not lie-there had been too many lies already. "Yes." “For the life of me, I can't see you and him together,"
Brett said grimly. "And I still don't understand."
Regina did not say a word, trying to decide if this was the moment to drop the cannonball right in their laps.
"I can," Storm put in smoothly. "I think you both complement each other nicely." She smiled at Regina, but, being more astute than her husband, her look was also inquiring. "The ladies in this town are going to be very disappointed."
Despite herself, Regina felt her heart drop. "They are?"
"I think it's the mystery surrounding him that has half the women in this city interested in him. Of course, he is a handsome gentleman, which has never hurt a bachelor's prospects." Seeing Regina's tightly pursed mouth, she hastened to assure her niece, "He has never paid court to any lady that I know of. Indeed, I don't think he even pays the ladies any attention. Whenever I see him, he is with Mann and other gentlemen, in serious discussion. He is not a ladies' man, my dear."
Regina murmured, "It really doesn't matter."
"Regina," her aunt said, coming forward, "what is wrong?"
Regina took a breath. "It doesn't matter," she repeated firmly. "You see, I-I am divorcing him."
There was silence in the library.
Regina added nervously, "And I do so need your help. I need you to obtain divorce papers for me, as soon as possible."
Storm squeezed her arm. Brett said ominously, "What?"
"I am divorcing him."
"Did I understand correctly that you were married just two days ago?"
"It was a mistake."
"Regina, what the hell is going on here?" Brett demanded.
"It's a long story." She swallowed. "I am going to do this, Brett. I thought I could count on you. I had hoped I could count on you. But if you will not help me, 1 shall obtain the papers on my own. I am sure, being who I am, I can obtain them almost as quickly as you could."
Brett looked thunderous. "I didn't say I wouldn't help you."
Quickly Storm took his arm and led him toward the door. "Let us talk, darling," she cajoled. "Woman to woman. Let me handle this."
"You know your brother Nick is going to be livid about this marriage, much less a divorce," he said tightly, referring to Regina's father. "Make sure you get to the bottom of this, Storm." With a last look at Regina, he left the room.
Regina had heard his every word. She had no intention of revealing everything, and she did not want to think about her father. He would be very angry that she had married without his approval. How he might react to a divorce was almost beyond contemplation. She loved her father, but right now he was the last person she looked forward to facing.
Briefly she closed her eyes as her aunt took her hand. It was unbelievable that her life had come to such a pass. After a divorce she would never be able to recoup her reputation. Most women would never be able to marry again, or at least not respectably, but of course the Earl of Dragmore would see to it that she was remarried, and well, immediately. Regina plunked herself down on a long red sofa, very close to crying. If she thought about that she would lose the last shred of her control. "You have to get him to help me. Either that or I shall run all over the city to find
myself a lawyer who undoubtedly will take great advantage of my naivete in matters like this but will gladly draw UP papers despite the fact that I am momentarily penniless."
"You are not penniless, dear." Storm sat beside her. You know you need only ask for funds. Is this a lovers' quarrel?" "No." “Did the two of you consummate the marriage?" she hesitated. "Yes."
"Did he seduce you, Regina? Is that why you married him in such haste?"
"No."
Storm regarded her, perplexed. "I have known you all your life, dear. This is something I could see your sister, Nicole, doing, but not you. You knew who you were when you married him, Regina. I can only think that you must have fallen in love with him," Storm said gently.
"No!" Regina shook her head wildly, tears spilling. "He is very handsome, he did turn my head." She looked up from her hands, her eyes overly bright. Having decided not to tell any more lies made an explanation difficult, for she could not blame the amnesia for her marriage. Perhaps the truth, in halves, would save her after all. "I believed he cared for me. But he did not. He married me in order to save his precious home. He married me for my money, not out of love. And now he has deserted me, Aunt Storm!"
And Storm became as grim as her husband.
At two o'clock the following afternoon Regina had her papers.
Brett and Storm had decided to help her. That Slade had married her for her money in order to save Miramar angered them as much as it now angered Regina. She had carefully omitted the fact that she had, at the time, been fully cognizant of his intentions. She had carefully skipped over the extent of her infatuation for Slade, which was how she now chose to label what she had once felt for him. Still, there was some skepticism on the part of her relatives. They were as aware as she was that such a spontaneous marriage, without her father's approval, was entirely out of character for her.