Bartered Bride, page 7
He acknowledged Mrs. Brooke and listened while introductions were made. Lawrence Brooke’s lawyers flanked him, while his secretary, a pale wraith of a man, sat along the wall taking notes. Wasserman sat beside Grandfather to guard his interests. Geoff sat between Jonathan and Grandfather.
Melissa put her hand on Jonathan’s arm.
He bent low to hear her whisper, “Are you going to tell?”
For hours he had wrestled with this very question. If he spilled her secret, he was free. No engagement, no marriage, no merger. All he had to do was raise a fuss about her nightly jaunts, the suffrage politics, declare her unsuitable as his bride.
Lawrence Brooke had been outspoken on more than one occasion against giving women the franchise. Women—in his opinion, being the weaker sex—were unable to bear the responsibility of voting in political elections.
Grandfather would sputter and fume, but Jonathan would be free and still have Kennebrae Shipping, too. There was no way Grandfather would force him to marry a woman who was a political radical.
Jonathan shot a glance at Almina. By no stretch of the imagination could she be considered weak, but she would be mortified, humiliated if her daughter’s character were called into question.
And what of Melissa herself? Could he ruin her reputation, bring down scandal and scorn on her just to extricate himself from the engagement? The thought of her wounded expression, the hurt he would cause her made him wince.
Not to mention the women associated with her in the cause. Those hardworking, immigrant women struggling to learn to read, to better themselves and fight for women’s rights in a new country. Dreaming their new lives in America would be better than the oppression and poverty of their homelands. What right did he have to dash those dreams? Though he had never given much thought to women’s suffrage, after seeing those women, seeing the passion Melissa had for them, he found he was inclined to support the idea.
He looked into Melissa’s eyes, his heart hammering against his waistcoat. “No, your secret’s safe with me.” In that moment he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her secret, to protect her in any way he could.
Relief flooded her face. For a moment he thought she might throw her arms around him and hug him. He tamped down his disappointment when she didn’t. She returned her eyes to the mangled handkerchief in her lap.
He shifted in his chair. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Mother insisted she had one item to discuss with me present. Then we would leave the rest to the men.”
Jonathan nodded and sat back to endure the proceedings.
Attaché cases were opened, papers spread, and lawyers huddled, offering and counteroffering.
Jonathan listened with only half an ear, distracted by what Melissa’s secret could mean for both of them and half curious as to what Almina Brooke felt was so important she needed to oversee that part of the contract herself. He wasn’t left long to wonder.
“I have to insist”—Almira interrupted his thoughts—“that a certain amount of funds be settled on Melissa at her marriage by you, Lawrence, which shall be hers alone, to be used at her discretion.”
Melissa looked up. Her hands tightened into fists.
Jonathan sat up, his attention totally caught. Every man at the table did likewise.
Lawrence cleared his throat and lowered his brows at his wife. “Almina? Are you suggesting Jonathan will not give our daughter a suitable allowance?”
All eyes swiveled to Jonathan to gauge his reaction. His chest prickled. “Mr. Brooke, I fully intend—” What did he intend? Certainly he wasn’t entertaining the thought of actually going through with this marriage, was he?
Almina tapped her fingers on the table. “Lawrence, this isn’t about Jonathan or allowances. I feel strongly that Melissa should have a nest egg of her own. You know, for those little things a woman needs. Or even to provide a special gift for her children’s birthdays or her husband’s. This money should come from us, from you, on her wedding day.”
An uneasy feeling climbed Jonathan’s rib cage. Almina was plotting his children? He darted a look at Melissa, whose cheeks glowed. He should say something, but what?
Lawrence mulled over his wife’s words, tugging at his mustache.
The lawyers sat still, pens hovering.
“Very well. How much?”
“I should think two million would be suitable.” Almina didn’t bother to hide the challenge in her eyes.
Jonathan wasn’t sure if he gasped, but he knew Geoffrey sucked in a breath. Two million for an opening salvo. The woman had courage.
She went on. “Given the sums involved, I should think two million dollars, to be used by Melissa as she sees fit, providing she marries Mr. Kennebrae, is not too much to ask. You’re talking about a merger worth ten times that much. What you do with the rest of the marriage contract is up to you, but I insist that you do right by your daughter.”
No one moved.
Grandfather’s eyes shone like hot coals.
Almina stared at Lawrence.
He studied her for a long moment, her challenge to his generosity hanging over the table like a sword. He pursed his lips. At last Lawrence reached forward and dipped his pen in an inkwell. “Make it three million, my wedding gift to Melissa.”
Melissa stiffened and started to speak, but Almina’s claw came down on her arm, squeezing it.
Jonathan frowned and took Melissa’s other hand from her lap, closing his around it, surprised at her cold flesh.
Almina’s triumphant look made him wonder if three million wasn’t her aim all along. “Very good. That settled, Melissa and I will depart. Good day, gentlemen.”
Jonathan released Melissa’s hand.
When the ladies rose, every man did, too, save Grandfather.
Melissa gave Jonathan one last stunned look before following her dragon of a mother from the room.
❧
“That went well.” Geoffrey tapped some files against his leg as they walked into the Kennebrae Shipping offices. “I had no idea Brooke was worth so much. A twenty-million-dollar wedding settlement, with an expected fifty-million-dollar inheritance. Not including a three-million-dollar nest eggfor the bride apart from it all. It boggles the mind.”
Jonathan grunted. “I didn’t know Grandfather had branched out in so many areas.” Admittedly Jonathan had focused his attention only on Kennebrae Shipping. To find that his family had interests in so many cities and in so many ventures astounded him.
A foundry in Cleveland. Rental properties in New York City, Boston, and Charleston. Shares in railroads, mines, and manufacturing. How many times during the meeting had Grandfather stared at Jonathan when Brooke mentioned grain contracts and new ships?
Jonathan opened his office door and stopped. Geoffrey bumped into his back.
“Thought you’d never get here. Where’ve you been, and where’s Grandfather?” Noah lounged in Jonathan’s chair, his boots propped up on the blotter. He twirled a peaked cap on one finger.
“Noah! You weren’t expected for two more days. When did you get in?” Jonathan’s gaze flew to the windows. Sure enough, the Bethany sat at the Number One Dock.
“Midmorning. The repairs weren’t as extensive as first thought. They patched the leak temporarily, and we limped on home. I figured it would be better to have the majority of the work done here where our own shipbuilders can oversee the repairs. And I want the entire boiler gone over. Thatwill take two or three weeks. Then I figure I can squeeze in one more trip through the Soo before we’re iced in for winter.” He swept his boots off the desk and stood.
Jonathan grabbed him in a hug. The smell of open water, windy skies, and coal smoke lingered in Noah’s thick wool tunic. “When did you get so strong?”
Noah laughed. “A life on the water builds muscles. More than shuffling papers behind a desk.” He rubbed his chin. “What do you think of the beard?”
Jonathan studied the bushy brown whiskers covering his brother’s face. “Is that what you’re calling that weed patch?”
Noah laughed and cuffed Jonathan on the shoulder. “All captains wear beards. It’s a mark of authority.” He turned to Geoffrey. “Hello, Geoff. Still minding Kennebrae’s interests?”
Geoff grinned and shook Noah’s hand. “Today more than usual, Noah. Welcome home.”
Noah settled into a chair before the fireplace. “Is that where you were? Some stuffy meeting?”
Jonathan squared up the piles of paper on his desk. “Yes. And, Noah, we need to talk. Grandfather has been up to his old tricks, only this time it’s worse.”
“You know, sometimes I’m afraid to pull into the harbor. What’s he done now?”
“Geoff, have a seat. You can clarify any points I miss.” Jonathan leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. When his lawyer was seated, Jonathan began a recounting of recent events.
“And so,” he finished up, “I have to get married or forfeit Kennebrae Shipping altogether.”
Noah sat, slack jawed as a sturgeon. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. We were just at a meeting with Brooke’s lawyers to draw up the contract.”
“You’re not going through with it? Isn’t there some way to stop it?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Not that I’m prepared to take at this time. Geoff, show him the paperwork.”
Geoff dug in his file and produced a thick document.
Noah perused only the first page. “Did you sign this?” He looked at Jonathan with grave eyes.
“No, I told them I wouldn’t sign anything today, and I didn’t expect them to either. Each side needs a few days at least to go over the transaction. Hopefully that will give me time to find a way out without losing Kennebrae Shipping.” And without sullying Melissa’s reputation.
“But you said the engagement had already been announced. If you back out now, folks might think there’s something wrong with the girl. Is there something wrong with her?”
“Not a thing.” Heat crept up Jonathan’s cheeks at the vehemence of his reply.
Noah sat back and studied Jonathan. A slow grin spread over Noah’s face. “You like her. That’s why you haven’t told Grandfather what he can do with Kennebrae Shipping. You don’t want to get out of this engagement.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I barely know her.”
“Well, what’s she like?” Noah tossed the papers back to Geoff. “No, on second thought, you can’t be unbiased. I’d rather hear it from Geoffrey. You’ve met her, haven’t you, Geoff?”
Jonathan thrust his chair back and strode to the windows. Noah could be such a tease. He’d forgotten how his younger brothers could grate on him at times.
“She’s beautiful.” Geoffrey jumped in. “Lovely blue eyes, brown hair. I hear she plays the piano and speaks French fluently. Jonathan took me along to the luncheon where the engagement was announced.” Jonathan could hear the grin in Geoff’s voice and tightened his jaw.
“Grandfather’s working fast. Go on, Geoff.”
Jonathan groaned and hung his head. Noah was bound to hear it sometime, but Jonathan had hoped he’d be far away when his brother got the story. But perhaps it was better to get it over with now. He turned and sent a glare Geoffrey’s way, knowing it wouldn’t stop his lawyer from telling the tale with relish.
“Lawrence Brooke announced the engagement, and the bride-to-be jumped up, squawked a little at Jonathan, then fainted dead away.” Geoff glanced guiltily in Jonathan’s direction but not before Jonathan saw the amusement there, too.
Noah began to laugh. “So you’re saying the thought of marrying big brother knocked her out cold?”
“He swept her off her feet.”
Both men doubled over, howling.
Jonathan fisted his hands and envisioned popping both of them on their noses.
When Noah composed himself, he sat up, eyes full of mischief. “I’ve got to meet this girl. You’ll give me an introduction, right? And I know just what to get you for an engagement present.”
“What?”
“Smelling salts!”
Little brothers could be such pains. Time for some revenge.
“Noah, there’s more.”
“What, did she have a fit of hysteria when a wedding date was set?” He couldn’t stop chuckling.
“I’m not the only one Grandfather is hustling down the aisle.”
Noah quit laughing. He regarded Jonathan with a wary eye.
“He’s got brides all picked out for you and Eli, too.”
Noah sagged into his chair, the wind taken out of his sails.
Satisfaction settled in Jonathan’s chest. Perhaps now Noah would be serious and find a way out of this mess for all of them.
“Okay, this is beyond funny now.” Noah swallowed hard.
Ten
Melissa stood on the low table, arms out to her sides at shoulder height, trying not to move. Pinpricks threatened with each breath.
Mother and the seamstress she’d imported from New York huddled a few feet away, tossing looks over their shoulders and murmuring.
“It’s so beautiful. I wish I was getting married.” Her friend Zylphia wound some lace trim around her hand. “You look like a princess.”
I feel like a dress-up doll. Mother’s doll to dress up and show off when it suits her. Melissa forced a smile and kept her thoughts to herself. It did her little good to voice them.
“The train should be at least ten feet long. And trim it with the seed pearls.” Mother lifted a handful of the opalescent beads, letting them dribble through her fingers back into the bowl.
The seamstress, a petite, dark Frenchwoman, took notes and nodded, keeping her lips pinched tight. Perhaps the habit of holding pins in her mouth had left it permanently scrunched.
“And use these crystals, too. In the floral pattern we discussed. Recreate the pattern in this lace.” Mother plucked the lace from Zylphia’s hand and unrolled it.
The skein landed with a thump on the rug. Zylphia rolled her eyes and shrugged, and Melissa stifled a giggle. Not more than two minutes ago Mother had insisted Zylphia roll up the excess lace to prevent its getting damaged.
Madame Lisette began removing the pins from the cotton mock-up pieces draped all over Melissa’s frame.
With relief Melissa lowered her arms and stepped out of the skirt. Sarah held her dressing gown, and Melissa slipped her arms into the comforting garment. Her chemise and petticoats were no protection against the chill in the attic sewing room.
“Get dressed, Melissa, and you and Zylphia can take tea.” Mother looked up from leafing through sketches. “I’ll be here quite some time yet. I still can’t decide if this new charmeuse fabric is the best choice or not.”
Melissa hurried to her room and slipped into a yellow dress. Her hair looked a mess from pulling garments over her head. Unpinned it fell to her waist in heavy brown curls. She plaited it, her fingers quick from long practice, and left the braid hanging down her back.
The usual sense of calm Melissa experienced when entering the blue parlor failed to come over her. As always, her mother’s forceful personality drove the wedding plans, drowning the household in a storm surge of details about fabric, music, flowers, attendants. And she consulted Melissa not at all. A piece of driftwood had about as much say in its destination.
Zylphia was seated on one of the velvet chairs, leafing through a photo album.
Melissa forswore being ladylike and flopped down on the ivory damask couch, plopping her feet up on a cushion.
“Well?” Zylphia pounced on her, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “Are you going to tell me? You promised.”
“Let’s get through tea, and I’ll tell all.”
Anne, the parlor maid, entered with the tea tray, her black skirts swishing. She set the tray down on the marble-topped table. “Can I get you anything else?”
Melissa shook her head. “Thank you, Anne. That will be all. Why don’t you go put your feet up for a few minutes?”
“Thank you, miss.” She bobbed her head and left the parlor, her heels clicking on the parquet.
“Tell me. I can’t stand it anymore.” Zylphia poured her tea and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. “What’s so urgent?”
Melissa regretted her rash promise to tell Zylphia her secret, but she desperately needed someone to confide in. And Zylphia could be a help if she would. The more women they had, the better. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not your mother, not your maid, no one.”
“I promise. Now tell me.”
Melissa sat up and checked that the door was closed. Then she leaned close to Zylphia. “I’m involved in underground meetings to organize a women’s suffrage rally here in Duluth.”
Zylphia sat back, disbelief spread over her pretty face. “Women’s suffrage? Is that all? I thought it was something romantic or dangerous.”
“It is, dangerous at least. Why else would I sneak out in the middle of the night and walk downtown for the meetings? And could you imagine what my father would say if hefound out?”
“You sneak out at night?” Zylphia’s eyes lit up. She leaned forward. “Tell me more.”
Melissa described her nighttime activities, mentioning how Peter and Wilson picked her up in their family delivery wagon and watched over her to see that she came to no harm. About the women who wanted to learn to read and write, and who most of all wanted to vote, to have a say in the government that ruled them. “And there’s more. Jonathan knows.”
“He does? And he doesn’t mind?” Zylphia’s mouth opened in surprise.
“I don’t think he’s very happy about it, but so far he hasn’t told anyone. He followed me down there. The first time he didn’t make it to the building. Peter and Wilson got a little overeager and knocked him on the head. That’s why he had the bruise on his temple at the sailing luncheon.”
Zylphia squeezed her hands together. “What happened?”
“He was angry. I had to tell him about the meetings, or he was going straight to Father. That would’ve been disastrous. Father doesn’t know anything about it, and I’d like to keep it that way. I took Jonathan to one of the meetings, hoping that once he saw the women and how much they were being helped and how serious we are about this, he might relent and keep quiet. I think it might have worked.” Melissa picked up the teapot. “Anyway he stayed for the whole three hours and even listened to some of the ladies who were learning to read.”
