“Fine,” Richard replied. He’s no fun. “Have him call.”
Security had been tightened for the entire building after Will reported the incidents in November. Part of the new protocol was checking photo identification even for close family members and using the building phone to connect with the apartment owner or tenant. Every visitor had to be approved, even if they were familiar to the employee at the desk. The extra attention had annoyed a lot of people who’d been visiting friends and family in the building for years, including Oscar, but Richard was grateful for it. Even if Wickham was gone, there were a million other opportunists out there. Okay, maybe a million is an exaggeration.
Richard ended the call and waited. After a beat, the phone rang again. “Mr. Fitzwilliam?” came a deep voice. “He’s on the camera now.”
“Hi, Jeremy,” Ricard greeted him. He glanced at the small monitor now mounted near the front door and grinned at the high-definition video of Oscar’s scowl. “That reprobate is my brother Oscar. He can come up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” the young man said, his manner professional, his diction exact. “You have a good night.”
“You too, Jeremy,” Richard responded, reaching to slide the deadbolt open. “Thanks.”
A few minutes later, Oscar strode into the foyer, his coat already folded over his arm. He tossed it up on one of the hooks and handed Richard a bottle of Tenuta dell'Ornellaia Masseto 2007.
“What’s this for?” Richard inquired. This was an expensive bottle of wine. He knew Oscar wouldn’t bring it over unless there was something going on. He moved into the kitchen to find a corkscrew as Oscar reached into the cabinet for glasses.
Oscar set them down on the counter next to Richard with a beatific smile. “New Year’s, your promotion, Will actually being out of the office for more than twelve hours, and the scandal that’s about to rock the country.” He paused dramatically. “We’re taking down Senator John Andrew Barker and probably several of his cronies in the process.”
Richard stopped working the cork. “John Barker,” he repeated slowly. “The account number?”
Oscar nodded. “It was an off-shore account he used for payments. And oh, what that told us. Once we had the information from the bank account, payments, wire transfers, and everything else, it wasn’t tough to get the FBI on board. Homeland, too, once we explained what happened with Georgiana.”
“What about the file locater number?”
Oscar nodded. “We got access to the file. One of Barker’s operatives keep very detailed records, probably for blackmailing purposes. Every meeting, every order, every deposit into his super-secret bank account. They line up perfectly with Barker’s phone records, withdrawals . . .” He motioned to the bottle. “Are you going to finish opening that?”
Richard finished working the cork, which popped out of the neck with a soft rush of air. “That’s interesting news, I guess,” he said warily, pouring out two glasses.
“That’s one way to put it,” Oscar said smoothly, sipping the drink. “Barker was never after Will and G, not really. He wanted to sink Dad’s last campaign, hopefully replace him on Ways and Means. He tried for years to bring him down politically. After De Roos, when Dad decided not to retire, Barker hatched this crazy plan. He must have made the connection between Wickham and Will then.”
Richard took a sip from his glass, then set it down, twisting the stem between his fingers as he completed Oscar’s thought. “He involved family. That’s not going to go down well with his fellow senators.”
Oscar’s smile was faintly feral. “No.”
Richard met his brother’s gaze, troubled. “G will have to testify. And Bennet.”
“Maybe.” Oscar didn’t sound convinced. “Dad’s pushing to get a full admission of guilt and a resignation so they can avoid the whole circus. He’s got plenty of additional dirt on Barker to compel the confession. But we’ll see.”
“Dirt you dug up?” Richard asked approvingly. “I wondered what you’d been up to all this time.”
Oscar just smiled enigmatically and set down an empty glass. Somehow, he’d managed to finish the wine without Richard noticing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Richie,” he replied, using the nickname Richard hadn’t heard since they were kids. “A lot of that information is confidential. I don’t have that kind of juice.” He tapped the rim. “Fill me up.”
“Elizabeth?” Will called, shaking her shoulder a bit. “Elizabeth, wake up, we’re here.”
Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. It took a moment to remember where she was, but as her vision cleared, she saw Will’s face looking down at her. She blinked hazily and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said.
His face broke into a sunny smile. “Hi.”
She cleared her throat and struggled to sit up. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Hours,” Will replied.
“Sorry,” she said. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
Will shook his head and touched a hand to her cheek. “You needed it.”
She nodded slowly. “I think I did.” She fumbled until she found the button that allowed her to bring her seat back up. Now that she could see out of the windows, she was pleased to view trees and a lake. “Well, we’re not in the city,” she declared.
Will opened his door. “Nope.”
Elizabeth opened her own door and slipped to the ground. Before her was one end of what looked to be a majestic building, a wooden home at its center, the wings of it built in stone, reminiscent of a castle. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, patches of white on the roof, a deserted pier with room for small boats—canoes, maybe, or small sailboats. The air was crisp and clean. She breathed in a lungful and released the air slowly, any residual tension being expelled along with it. She walked around the truck to join Will.
“G told me that the wooden building there,” Will said, pointing, “was originally a tavern.”
Elizabeth elbowed him. “So you brought me up here to get me drunk?”
He ignored the tease. “It’s called the Mohonk House. Been here since the 1860s, I think. G’s been here a few times in the summer,” he said quietly. “She came first with my aunt and now comes with a few of her friends. I’ve never been able to get away from work.”
Elizabeth took his hand. He’s missed out on so much. We’re not much different in that. “Well, now you have to tell me—why are we here?”
He pulled her into his side and tossed an arm around her shoulder. “Rest and relaxation,” he told her. “I think we could both use it after racing across the country and bearding the dragon in his lair.”
Elizabeth snorted. “Tom isn’t a dragon. More like a lizard.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want to stay?” Will asked suddenly. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll take you home.” He released her and turned back towards the truck.
“Wait!” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”
Will returned to her side. “Oh, I’m the king of hasty decisions, Elizabeth,” he responded, his face entirely devoid of irony. Elizabeth stared at him incredulously, but he just stared back challengingly.
“Hanging out with me is turning you into someone I don’t even recognize, Will Darcy,” she scolded him. His lips began to quirk up at the corners and she flashed him a quick grin. “I like it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Will watched Elizabeth’s forehead crinkle as she read what G had planned for them. “I don’t know, Will,” she said slowly. “I’ve never had a massage before. And what’s this—body polish? It seems a little weird.”
He leaned forward to kiss her ear. Body polish does sound weird. “I’ve never had a massage either,” he told her. “It’ll be an experience.”
“Really?” she asked, “You’ve never had a massage? I thought that was the kind of thing all you money moguls did.”
He yawned. “Yes, in my copious amounts of free time.”
She tossed the sc
hedule down and picked up a binder from its place near the television. Will sat on the bed and removed his shoes before swinging his long legs up onto the mattress. He put his hands behind his head and watched her. Her face relaxed, her brows lifted. One, he thought, entertained. Two . . . three.
“Will!” Elizabeth exclaimed, right on cue, “they have snow tubing!” She kept reading. “And cross-country skiing.” Another pause. “And snowshoeing!”
Will grinned. Georgiana had planned a million things for them at the spa, and all Elizabeth wanted to do was go outside and play in the snow.
He thought a massage was a safe bet. Elizabeth had liked the scalp massages he’d given her when she had migraines. She didn’t have one even after that mess at Longbourn, he told himself, pleased. He’d been worried about Elizabeth when she emerged from her father’s study, her expression pinched and angry. Turning her attention away from that conversation by teasing her with their destination had given her something positive to think about. The sleep didn’t hurt, either. He carefully stored that information away.
“Okay,” he said, holding out his hand for G’s schedule. “Let’s decide what we’re going to keep and what we’ll cancel.”
Elizabeth wandered back to the bed and flopped on her stomach, her head near his legs. He reached down and stroked her hair. “Les grr aughtsd,” she said into the comforter.
“Um . . .” Will chuckled. “What was that?”
Elizabeth lifted her head. “Let’s go outside, Will. Is there anything on the schedule for this afternoon?”
He shook his head. “Don’t you want to get this taken care of so we can relax?”
“No. I want to relax first, then worry about the list. We can still cancel things tonight, right?” She put her hand on his leg. “Except the body polish thing. Cancel that now.”
“So tomorrow we’d be getting massages and some sort of hydrotherapy thing. Those are in the afternoon, so we could go tubing in the morning. Sound good?” He noted several things they’d want to cross off G’s very long list.
Elizabeth frowned. “Massage?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Will looked up. “It’s a couple’s massage, Elizabeth. I’ll be there too.”
She considered that, a wicked smile slowly developing. “You’ll be in the room? Naked?”
“One track mind, there, Staff Sergeant,” he told her.
She harrumphed. “You love my one-track mind,” she informed him, rolling over to lie on her back.
Yes, I do. His reply was almost blithe. “Never said I didn’t.”
She peered at him carefully for a moment. “All right then. Massages.”
“Oh my God,” growled Richard. “That feels amazing.” Jane was perched on the back of the sofa behind him, kneading his shoulders, moving to dig her thumbs under his scapulae. He sighed happily. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Dr. Bennet.”
“Don’t get too comfortable, Mr. CEO,” she told him shortly. “I’m next. And no excuses about falling asleep.”
He grinned and leaned back, shifting his weight so she couldn’t extract herself. “You’re a victim of your own success, Jane. Not my fault.”
“That’s what they all say,” she replied lightly, slapping him on the back. “Let me out.”
Richard’s mood darkened. “What do you mean, that’s what they all say? How many men have you given back rubs?”
Jane smiled sweetly. “Hundreds.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean patients, Jane.”
She hummed a little and ignored the question. “Move.”
“No,” he told her, only to receive a sharp elbow in the middle of his back. “Ow, okay,” he laughed. “I’m moving, I’m moving.”
Jane plopped down next to him on the couch, a smug look on her face.
“Is that your best move?” Richard taunted her.
“Nope,” she said, reaching for the bowl of plain popcorn she had sitting on the coffee table. “I happen to like you, so I didn’t try to hurt you.” She stopped, a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth. “Much.”
Richard gave her a skeptical glance.
“You want to try me?” she asked sweetly. “Richard, I know every bone, muscle, tendon, joint, and . . .”—here she paused dramatically—"organ of the human body. Which means I also know how to take them apart.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, grinning. He did like a challenge.
Jane checked her phone. “I can’t believe the hospital hasn’t called me back in yet. Normally I don’t even get here before I have to turn the car around.”
“Shhh,” Richard said quickly, taking her phone away and setting it on the table. “Don’t put that out in the universe.”
“I’m not superstitious,” Jane told him, amused. “Just pointing out an existing pattern.”
“Well, I am superstitious,” he replied, “so humor me. In a few days, this will be Will’s place again and he and your sister will be here all the time.”
“I certainly can’t imagine why Will would want to return to his own home,” she replied sarcastically. “But I know Elizabeth won’t be moving in. She’ll insist on going to her own apartment.”
“She doesn’t have to live here to be over here nearly every night, Jane,” Richard asserted. He ran a hand through his hair. “The point is that we have the place to ourselves. Tonight. You’re here, I’m here, the hot tub’s on. . .”
She shook her head and threw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounced off his nose and onto the carpet. He picked it up and tossed it on the coffee table. “You just assaulted me,” he said quietly. “I think I need an apology for that.” Suddenly, he pounced on Jane, sending the rest of the popcorn flying. The bowl landed on the floor, tipping one way and then another before coming to a rest. Jane protested, trying to sit up so she could clean the mess.
“Leave it for Will,” Richard said, his face hovering over hers as he went in for a kiss. “It’s his apartment.”
Will dropped their bags at the door of the room and grabbed his jacket. They’d picked up more cold weather gear in their travels, so there was now an extra bag to haul around.
“When do we have to be out of the room?” Elizabeth asked, checking her phone for the time.
“We have until noon,” Will replied. “But we can ask for a late check-out if you want.”
She nodded. He put his hands on his hips and glanced around the room. They were packed and ready, so they could take some time. “What’d you have in mind?”
Elizabeth glanced up at him, her eyes alight, her expression almost embarrassed. “Can we go tubing one more time?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to laugh at her. “Sure.” He tossed their shared bag up on the bed and began pulling out warm clothes for their return. “I’ve seen how you ride,” he told her as she watched him. “We’ll be soaked when we get back.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Elizabeth mumbled, but continued to observe him plucking clothing out of the bag. He made two precise piles with everything they’d need before brushing past her to grab the plastic dry-cleaning bag out of the closet.
“We can put the wet clothes in here,” Will explained, laying that out next to the now open bag. When he was satisfied that they were ready, he turned to face her and read her expression. Part amusement, part affection, part exasperation.
“Were you a boy scout, Will?” she asked pertly.
His eyes narrowed. “I was,” he replied, dragging out the words. “Why do you ask?”
She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “No reason.”
“Are we going now?” he asked, feigning impatience.
“I don’t know,” she tossed back. “Are we as prepared as we can be?”
He pretended to consider the question, hand stroking his chin until a pillow hit him in the face. He grabbed it and threw it back.
“It’s your job to make me have fun,” he growled, “and it’s my job to make sure we don�
�t catch pneumonia doing it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Elizabeth said. “My job is way better.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him outside.
It didn’t take long to reach the top of the run. There’d been some snowfall overnight, a wet, heavy snow that layered the track. There was also more glare than there had been the first time they’d come—the sun was reflecting brightly off the white groundcover. Will thought about going back for his sunglasses but discarded the idea.
“Be careful,” he told Elizabeth. “The visibility isn’t great and after a few runs, this kind of snow packs down and gets slick. The tube will go a lot faster.”
She grinned and practically dove headfirst onto her tube, making the first run perfectly before flopping over into the snow at the bottom. She jumped up, grabbed the tube, and trudged up the side of the hill. Will sighed and rolled his eyes before taking his own run, sitting in the tube rather than laying on his stomach.
They were alone on the hill for nearly an hour before a young boy raced up, clinging to the handle of his tube. His mother followed close behind. He threw down his tube and began to climb on when his mother called, “Adam, wait your turn!”
The boy craned his neck looking up at them both and grinned. He was missing two front teeth that caused a slight lisp. “Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but.
Elizabeth laughed and picked up her tube. “Go ahead, Adam. We’ve been here awhile.”
Adam jumped on the tube, but it didn’t move.
“Do you want a push?” Will asked. Adam nodded enthusiastically, and Will gave the tube a shove. Adam flew down the hill, screaming and laughing. He struggled to drag the tube back up the hill, but eventually he persevered.
Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth began to make friends with the boy. Will watched her giving advice, pointing out the best parts of the run, showing him how to control the tube using the handles. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink under her ski cap, and her eyes were shining with good humor. She laughed as the boy made his tube spin in circles, applauding him when he stood dizzily at the bottom of the hill. His mother added her applause and smiled, thanking Elizabeth for her help.
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