For the children

Thanks to a troubled childhood, Laney O’Connor knows the struggles faced by the offspring of society’s most desperate women. These young innocents need a safe place, which Laney seeks to provide at Charity House. When foreclosure threatens her haven, she’ll let nothing stop her from keeping the orphanage open. Not even handsome hotel owner Marc Dupree. A series of misunderstandings put Laney and Marc at odds, but telling him the truth would mean breaking a promise—and jeopardizing the funds Charity House needs. And as Marc and Laney struggle with faith and trust, a secret from the past could ruin everything....

Marc Dupree’s words threw Laney completely off guard, as did his soft tone.

“Are you still in need of money, Miss O’Connor?”

“Yes,” she admitted before she could stop the word from rushing out. Why, why did she find herself wanting to lean on this man, when she knew he was dangerous to everything she held dear?

For a long moment Dupree stared at her, those blue-blue eyes piercing straight through her, as though he could see inside every one of her secrets. “Then I have a proposition for you.”

A number of terrible possibilities came to mind. For the past twenty-four hours Laney had experienced nothing but fear and desperation. The feeling of falling into a pit with no way out had been dreadful, panic-inducing. Terrifying.

Was she about to fall deeper into that pit, thanks to this man and his...proposition?

No. She couldn’t lose hope. For the sake of the children she had to believe good would come out of this awful situation.

“What kind of proposition are you suggesting?”

“Come work for me at my hotel.”

RENEE RYAN

grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “lying out,” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.

Two years later, armed with a degree in economics and religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and a cosmetics conglomerate. She moved on to teach high school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of characters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career.

She lives an action-packed life in Lincoln, Nebraska, with her supportive husband, lovely teenage daughter and two ornery cats who hate each other.

Charity House Courtship

Renee Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to

your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

—Philippians 2:3, 4

To Sheila Vittitow and Jean Smith.

Your dedication to serving the Lord

always humbles me. Thank you for your stellar example. I’m honored to call you ladies my friends!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Denver, Colorado

June 1879

Laney O’Connor hesitated outside the legendary Hotel Dupree, unsure how best to proceed. Suspended in her moment of indecision, she took a slow, calming breath. The gesture did little to dispel her increasing agitation. She was, after all, about to commit a brazen act.

Could she pull this off?

Did she have any other choice?

A wave of doubt crested. With a hard swallow, she shoved the unwanted emotion into submission. This was no time for uncertainty.

Yet here she stood, motionless, hardly daring to breathe.

Lifting her gaze, she studied the ornate building in front of her. Not out of curiosity, but to gather the courage she would need to enter the most exclusive establishment in Denver and finish what she’d started this morning.

The Hotel Dupree was—as all the periodicals claimed—the most elegant building in town. Although the sun had set hours ago, modern gaslights bathed the structure in a golden, welcoming glow. Nine stories high, and boasting large, wrought iron balconies on every floor, the beautiful stone structure brought to mind beloved childhood tales where happily-ever-after always reigned.

Would Laney find her own happy ending here tonight?

Doubtful.

But she had to try. She had to forget that time had run out for her, that a shady, unscrupulous banker wanted his money in less than three days.

Three. Short. Days.

An impossible deadline.

Tears pushed at the back of her eyelids, a frightening reminder of her own helplessness, of the sharp, terrifying fear that she couldn’t raise the five hundred dollars in time.

For weeks, Laney had prayed for an answer to her dilemma. She had all but begged the Lord to reveal a solution, any solution. Silence had met her countless appeals.

Now, with the clock ticking and no one to rely on but herself, Laney had to obtain the money on her own.

In the only way she knew how.

Please, Lord, please let him show.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed through the rotating doors and entered the hotel’s main lobby. Stepping to the side, she stabbed a cursory glance through the large room. The rich fabrics on the furniture, the expensive mahogany paneling on the walls and the polished marble floors spoke of an attention to detail Laney appreciated.

As much as she admired the beautiful décor, the tiny alcove in the far corner captured the majority of her interest. Small, private, out of the main traffic flow, the nook was a perfect spot for her clandestine meeting.

Head high, eyes cast forward, Laney made her way across the lobby. She kept her steps slow and purposeful, but not too obvious. She had to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Hard to do, considering the dress she’d borrowed for this occasion.

She prayed her choice of clothing hadn’t been a mistake. The gown wasn’t meant to entice, but rather to remind a man of his duty. And why he had that obligation in the first place.

Once nestled in the hidden alcove, Laney placed her back to the wall and waited for her quarry.

Searching faces only, a sense of foreboding slipped through her resolve. Her pulse kicked into an erratic rhythm, punching ruthlessly against her ribs. What if he doesn’t show?

No. She couldn’t give into doubt.

Her entire plan hinged on Joshua Greene’s cooperation. And his assumption that she was a woman of questionable character. Sighing past a wave of guilt, Laney shifted her position slightly, ran her gaze through the room once more, but found no one bearing the familiar mane of gray hair and ruddy features she sought.

Another adjustment to her stance and she felt her attention pulled to the left, inexplicably drawn to the most compelling pair of steel-blue eyes on a man she’d ever seen.

Their gazes locked. And held.

Why couldn’t she look away?

Stunned at her own daring, she pressed her lips tightly together. Her breathing hitched in her throat. For a terrifying instant, every rational thought receded from her mind.

Riveted into immobility, she continued staring at the handsome stranger. He stared back. Boldly, relentlessly, with a bleak expression on his face. That look, that stern, unyielding glare sent a shiver tripping along her spine.

Laney quickly broke eye contact. Something felt off about this whole situation, now more than ever. A sense of impending doom urged her to leave the hotel immediately.

She ignored the sensation, knowing she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not without her money.

Against her better judgment, her gaze sought the handsome stranger once again.

He hadn’t moved from his earlier position.

This time, his lips curved around a fixed smile. Distrust, suspicion, they were both in his gaze.

Who was he? And what did he think she was planning to do here tonight?

Knowing how she was dressed, sensing he’d come to the absolute wrong conclusion, she nearly rushed out of the hotel.

The children, she told herself. Think of the orphans.

The reminder helped her recover the necessary courage to finish what she’d come here to do. Yanking her gaze free, Laney melted deeper into the shadows of the alcove.

She held her breath, waiting, counting the endless seconds, praying the stranger would grow tired of watching her and leave. Finally, after shooting one more look in her direction, he disappeared into the adjourning restaurant near the bank of elevators.

Instead of experiencing joy over his departure, another bout of uncertainty reared.

Again, Laney disregarded the feeling.

She could do this. She had to do this. For the abandoned children who needed the safety of the home she alone provided.

A movement at the hotel’s entrance cut through her thoughts. Joshua Greene had arrived.

Relief nearly buckled her knees, even as the well-dressed, gray-haired gentleman paused in the doorway. Laney eyed him cautiously, hopefully. Dressed in an expensive, hand-tailored suit, the cut as elegant as the man himself, Judge Greene looked every bit the distinguished Denver citizen that he was.

He glanced around the room with a caged expression on his face. Apparently, he was as unsettled by the nature of their impending transaction as Laney.

Wanting to ease his mind, she moved out into the open and flashed her brightest smile at him. He did not return the gesture. Instead, he tugged his hat over his face and set out in her direction.

Despite her impatience to be finished with this uncomfortable meeting, she waited until he was nearly upon her before speaking. “Good evening, Judge Greene.”

A brief nod was his only answer.

So, he was going to play it that way. Laney sighed. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way.” And she was. More than she could put into words.

“I, too, am sorry, Miss O’Connor.” His lips twisted into a frown. “But I suppose it’s better than the alternatives.”

It was her turn to nod in agreement. Given the unorthodox nature of their relationship, Laney could never have met him at his home, or hers. And certainly not his office in the courthouse. The Hotel Dupree provided them anonymity.

Wanting to protect his identity as best she could, Laney took his arm and pulled him into the shadows with her.

He followed willingly.

Once they were out of sight of the other hotel guests milling about, he wasted no times with pleasantries.

“Miss O’Connor.” He kept his voice low, his words barely audible over the din from the lobby. “As much as I sympathize with your predicament, you must never again contact me as you did this morning. Such recklessness goes against our original arrangement.”

The reminder slammed into her like a punch. “I had no other choice,” she whispered.

“I know, my dear.” Softening his tone, he patted her hand with a benevolent, fatherly touch. “I understand this is difficult for you. Truly, I do. If it’s any consolation, you look very much like your mother tonight. Quite beautiful, really.”

Instead of relishing the compliment, Laney’s heart filled once more with guilt.

She hated putting this man in such a precarious situation. But what else could she do? Her loan had been called in six months early. And this former “friend” of her mother’s owed Laney far more than she was asking of him tonight.

Considering the circumstances, he was getting off easy.

Keep telling yourself that.

As if wishing to finish their business as quickly as possible, he slipped a hand inside his coat then pulled out his wallet. A flick of his wrist and she was in possession of her money.

Surprised at how quickly the transaction had gone, Laney automatically curled her fingers over the large bundle and pressed it to her heart.

“Can I assume this settles our account?”

“Yes.” She gave him a firm nod. “Thank you, Judge Greene. As per our agreement, you owe me nothing more.”

“Excellent.” He turned to go, then spun back around to face her. “I know I don’t have to remind you of the necessity for secrecy, but under the circumstances, I feel I must verbalize my request so there is no misunderstanding.”

Knowing what was coming next, Laney waited silently for him to continue.

“Never reveal who gave you this money, Miss O’Connor. Or why.”

She clutched the bills tighter in her fist. “No, I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. I trust we shall not meet again. I...” As if only just realizing what he was saying, a sad smile crossed his lips. “Take care of my boy.”

Such an easy request. “You may count on it.”

Without another word, he pivoted on his heel. This time, he didn’t turn around.

Light-headed from joy over her success, Laney slumped against the wall and sighed. She glanced after the judge’s retreating back. He moved quickly, already halfway to the bank of elevators. At least he was sticking to their plan. As agreed, he would ride to the ninth floor of the hotel, and then exit the building by way of the back stairwell.

Laney would leave the way she came, after she drank a cup of coffee in the restaurant. Twenty more minutes and she could put this whole ugly business behind her.

The thought that she’d jeopardized the reputation of the most respected judge in town left her with a mild case of regret. But then she drew on the image of the children sleeping soundly in their beds. One in particular came to mind and her conscience eased.

Regardless of what Judge Greene told himself, he hadn’t come here tonight out of altruism. Nor had he shown up to pay off the debt he owed, at half the cost. No, he’d come to ensure Laney kept his son’s parentage a secret.

He’d paid handsomely for her silence. Or so he’d thought. What he didn’t know, what Laney hadn’t reveal during their transaction, was that she would have kept his secret for free.

* * *

Now that Marc Dupree had taken over the day-to-day operations of his hotel, he no longer tolerated dishonorable behavior. Not from his employees, or his guests. After months of ensuring every member of his staff adhered to this strict policy—and a handful of tussles with unruly patrons—the Hotel Dupree was now considered the most elegant, well-run hotel this side of the Mississippi.

Marc had worked hard to earn that reputation. He would allow nothing to ruin what he’d built out of the worst possible betrayal a man could suffer. Already cautious by nature, years of running the most dangerous saloons in the West had taught him how to spot trouble before it began. Thus, the moment the stunning woman in the gold dress entered his lobby he’d known—known without a doubt—she was going to pose a problem.

The way she’d scanned the lobby with a calculating eye, searching male faces only, had told its own story. When she’d stared at him from across the room, as if daring him to call her out for some misdeed, Marc had taken it upon himself to do just that.

Once he had concrete proof. He was, after all, a fair man.

The fact that he’d been unexpectedly affected by the woman’s striking beauty made no difference. He would not abide dishonest dealings in his hotel.

No matter the circumstances.

Careful to keep outside the woman’s line of vision, he observed Judge Greene step inside the empty elevator closest to the restaurant. If Marc had been a betting man, he’d wager half his fortune that the woman would soon follow her “friend.”

Swallowing his distaste behind a sneer, Marc found himself torn between tossing the little beauty out of his hotel and waiting to see how long it would take her to make her way to the elevators.

He guessed two minutes. Perhaps three.

She proved him wrong, by lingering in the alcove a good five more minutes than he’d predicted. Marc took the opportunity to study her more closely.

She’d arranged her rich, mahogany hair loosely atop her head, with several strands cascading free at random. The tousled effect was both captivating and enthralling, a sure sign she’d taken great care with her appearance. The gold dress complemented her figure to perfection, its tight-fitting bodice cut just high enough to avoid indecency. But only just.

Marc knew better than to allow such an artful display to send his logic disappearing into another room. If his experience with Pearl LaRue had taught him anything, it was that a man could trust no woman.

This one, no matter how exquisite, was no exception.

She set out, heading straight for the bank of elevators near the restaurant. Exactly as he’d predicted.

Uncommonly disappointed in a woman he’d never met, Marc cut across the lobby in a wide arc, keeping to the left of her so she wouldn’t notice his approach. Two feet away, he reached out and caught her by the arm.

Ignoring her shocked gasp, he spun her around to face him.

For an endless moment his mind emptied of all thought. His heartbeat roared in his ears, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the stunned woman blinking wide-eyed back at him.

Up close, her refined, delicate beauty took his breath away. In contrast with the bold cut of her dress, everything about her was soft and inviting. Her face, her figure, even her light amber eyes spoke of a kind soul and a generous heart.

Completely unexpected. Enough to render him speechless.

She stared back at him, unmoving, waiting, holding silent, as if trying to gauge his mood before making her move.

Wounded, that was the word that came to mind as he gazed into those exotic, heartbreaking eyes. Vulnerable. Desperate.

All a lie. Her kind always lied.

Marc gave his head a hard shake. “Miss,” he said past the drumming in his ears. “I would like a word with you in private.”

He felt her betraying tremble, an instant before she physically repressed the sensation and then smoothed a look of calm across her face. The alarming speed in which she regained her composure proved Marc’s earlier assessment. Only a woman with something to hide would respond with such calculated control.

“If you would be so kind as to come with me,” he added with an edge of warning in his words, “I’m sure we can avoid an unnecessary scene.”

As if coming out of a daze, she tugged on her arm, hard. “Sir, I suggest you release me before I make a scene.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Marc tightened his hold, not enough to hurt her but enough to make his point.

“Who do you think you are?” An impeccable mix of indignation and shock sounded in her voice.

Oh, she was good. She looked and sounded generally taken aback by his behavior.

But Marc had seen that very same expression on another woman’s face. The reminder was enough to harden his heart.

“My name is Marc Dupree,” he said with hard-won authority. “The owner of this hotel.”

“Well, then, Mr. Dupree.” She swept a lock of hair behind her ear with a trembling finger, the only sign of her agitation. One he would have missed had he not been watching her so closely. “I must compliment you on your fine establishment.”

She punctuated her words with a brilliant smile. The same one she’d given Joshua Greene earlier.

Marc had seen enough. He motioned to his security man, Hank, watching from across the room.

Well-versed in the need for propriety, the big man sauntered over in a casual manner.

“Hank, please escort Miss—” Marc leveled a look on the woman. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of learning your name.”

A sound of despair slipped from her lips as she fixed her eyes on the rotating doors at the other end of the lobby.

“Now, now, that wouldn’t be wise, Miss...”

She snapped her gaze back to his. “Oh, honestly, this is absurd.” Indignation masked any signs of her earlier anxiety. “My name is Laney. Laney O’Connor.”

“I trust that’s your real name.”

“Of course it’s my real name. Why would you ask such a question?”

Marc lifted a single eyebrow. “I find women like you often use a variety of names.”

“Women like me?” She frowned, as if trying to discern the meaning of his words. The moment understanding dawned, her eyes widened. “Oh...oh.” She yanked once again on her arm. “You insult me.”

He almost believed he’d offended her. Almost.

“Hank, please escort Miss O’Connor to my office.” Marc lowered his lips to her ear. “This will go much easier for you if you cooperate without a fight.”

“I...I don’t understand. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

They both knew that was a lie.

“Then you won’t mind if I take a look inside your satchel.” Giving her no opportunity to respond, he let go of her arm and commandeered the tiny bag dangling from her wrist.

Shock and fury flared in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ensuring that nothing unsavory occurs in my hotel.”

Gaze locked on the tiny satchel, she lunged for him.

Marc shifted to his left.

She went stumbling past. One step, two, by the third she caught her balance and swung back around to face him. “Mr. Dupree, please. You...you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Panic sounded in every word.

Marc remained unmoved. How many times had Pearl given that very same appeal, with that precise look of distress in her eyes?

“A mistake?” He shook his head. “Not likely.”

“Please,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping forward. “You have to believe me when I say I’ve done nothing improper in your hotel.”

Yet.

The unspoken word echoed in the air between them. Marc nearly called her bluff. Except...

Her desperation appeared real.

Something in him, some hidden part he thought long dead, reconsidered confiscating the ill-gotten money and returning it to its rightful owner. Perhaps, as Miss O’Connor had claimed, Marc had misjudged the situation.

He nearly relented and gave her back her reticule without further delay. But then he remembered what he’d witnessed moments earlier. One of Denver’s most prominent citizens—a federal judge, no less—had given this woman a large sum of money. In a very secretive, clandestine manner.

Something unsavory was afoot in his hotel. And Marc needed to collect all the facts before he could act.

Of course, questioning Miss O’Connor would require privacy.

Decision made, he hitched his chin toward Hank. Needing no further instruction, the other man took her arm.

She didn’t fight this time, nor did she try to appeal to Marc’s compassion. She did, however, release a defeated sigh, as though she understood she had no other choice but to cooperate.

“Mr. Dupree.” She wrapped her dignity around her like a protective shield. “Once I have explained my actions here tonight I trust you will return my reticule.”

Marc leaned forward until their noses nearly touched. “That, Miss O’Connor, will depend completely on what you reveal.”

Chapter Two

Laney tried to formulate a new strategy as the large, beefy man named Hank escorted her through the hotel lobby. Unfortunately, Marc Dupree followed closely behind them. So closely, in fact, that she could smell his spicy, masculine scent.

The heady aroma left her slightly light-headed, and her mind filled with the same hopelessness that had been gnawing at her all evening.

No. She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

Maintaining her outward calm, she kept her steps slow and steady, her expression mild. Despite what the hotel owner might think, the five hundred dollars in Laney’s reticule belonged to her.

Of course, per her deal with Judge Greene, Laney couldn’t disclose the reason he’d given her such a large sum of money. She would have to come up with another explanation, one that would protect the promise she’d made and still satisfy Dupree’s suspicious mind.

As if reading her thoughts, the annoying man moved in closer still, narrowing the distance to mere inches. “Thinking up a good lie, are you?”

Arrogant brute.

He thought he had the situation all figured out.

When he was so very wrong.

“I’m warning you now,” he continued in his low, husky baritone. “I’m not a man easily fooled.”

Her breath caught on a gasp. Oh, she had no doubt he was a sly one. The sense of danger pulsating out of him nearly overwhelmed her. But she coaxed her fear into compliance and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Hank’s hold on her arm remained remarkably light. Laney considered making a break for the rotating doors behind her. But she sensed if she tried to escape, the hired ruffian would tighten his grip to painful proportions.

Mind working quickly, she considered other options. Even if she managed to get away from Hank, there was the matter of Marc Dupree. Laney could feel his suppressed anger as he walked directly behind her.

Again, he leaned in close. Too close. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you.” The warning sizzled in the tiny space between them. “You’re no match for Hank. Or me.”

Laney seethed at the man’s self-assurance. Nevertheless, she knew better than to fight at this point. Not without an escape plan.

Praying for a calm she didn’t possess, she allowed Hank to usher her inside a small room in the back corner of the hotel.

Dupree entered a few steps behind them and shut the door with a resounding click.

The moment Hank released her arm Laney pivoted around and took a step forward. Dupree shifted directly in her path, an ironic twist of his lips.

Out of ideas but not out dignity, she opened her mouth to express her outrage over his behavior. Unfortunately, words eluded her.

Eyebrows raised, Dupree stared at her, waiting, taking her measure, silently challenging her to defend herself.

The noisy din from the hotel lobby pervaded the cold mood in the room.

Laney ignored the racing of her pulse, putting it down to sheer desperation, and returned Dupree’s glare with equal intensity.

The handsome, chiseled features and square jaw created a deceptively appealing picture, as did the thick black hair against his smooth, olive skin. In contrast to his severe good looks, the crisp white shirt he wore, red silk vest, and matching neck cloth added a refined dignity not often seen in the West.

For a brief moment, as she continued holding his stare, Laney detected a familiar restlessness in his blue-blue eyes, the kind garnered from a painful past much like her own. A kindred spirit?

Hardly.

This might be her first face-to-face meeting with Marc Dupree, but she’d heard all the rumors. His reputation as a ruthless businessman was legendary around town. Known for demanding unreasonably high standards from his employees—as well as everyone else around him—she doubted he had an ounce of mercy in his heart.

Such a man would never understand what had brought Laney here tonight. She would be wise to consider him no different from the heartless banker who’d called in her loan six months early.

Apparently finished with his silent scrutiny, Dupree turned to Hank and handed over Laney’s reticule. “You know what to do with this.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Pretending to misunderstand, Laney reached out as Hank swept past her. “Oh, how kind of you to walk that over to me.”

Hank paused midstep.

“Ignore her,” Dupree ordered.

Cocking his head, the big man eyed her cautiously. She thought she detected a note of sympathy in his eyes but then he shook his head and continued on his errand.

As if bored with the whole affair, Dupree leaned against the shut door and crossed his arms over his chest. His casual stance was an illusion, of course. Laney easily detected the concentrated focus behind that bland manner of his.

Recognizing the sensation in her stomach as fear, she forced herself to speak as though nothing was amiss. “Come now, Mr. Dupree. Considering the late hour, perhaps you would be so kind as to return my reticule now. I’m sure we can have our little discussion some other time.”

His expression never changed, but his gaze narrowed ever so slightly. “Not a chance, honey.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Laney caught Hank reaching out to a small, metal safe situated on the floor next to a sturdy-looking desk.

Renewed panic reared, abrupt and violent, stealing her ability to think logically.

Knowing Dupree watched her as closely as she eyed Hank, Laney inched slowly into a new position, lowered her lashes and focused covertly on Hank’s fingers working the dial.

The melodic tick, tick, tick, of the spinning lock filled the room, diminishing her chances of an easy escape with each turn. Another few clicks and Hank pulled opened the safe. He shoved her reticule deep inside then closed the door with a hard snap. Another twist of his wrist and the lock went spinning again.

As the tumblers cleared, her composure snapped.

She whipped around to glare at Dupree. “You can’t do this.” Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. “It’s...it’s stealing.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Dupree waved his hand at her in a careless gesture. “I have no plans to keep your reticule indefinitely, nor its valuable contents.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“No? What if I told you I plan to return the large sum of money to its rightful owner at once?”

Her throat tightened at the very idea. “You... Mr. Dupree, you can’t do that.”

“Can’t I?”

“But you...” Her mind raced for a solution to this new, awful threat of his. “You promised to give me a chance to explain.”

“Indeed, I did.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do proceed with your explanation, Miss O’Connor.”

Her gaze automatically tracked toward Hank. Standing partly in the shadows the big man appeared deeply enthralled with his thumbnail.

Laney sighed. “Very well. The gentleman gave me that money for—”

She cut off her own the words, remembering Judge Greene’s adamant request. Never reveal who gave you this money, Miss O’Connor. Or why.

She’d given her word. Yet, due to no fault of her own, she’d already violated a portion of her promise. She could not reveal the rest.

“Joshua Greene gave you the money for...” Dupree prompted.

Laney pressed her lips tightly shut. How to respond?

Think, Laney. Think.

In the ensuing silence, Dupree motioned to Hank. The other man dropped his hand and strode out of the room without a single glance in her direction.

With only the two of them left, a thick blanket of tension fell over the room. Laney prayed for divine intervention.

Please, Lord, show me a way out of this quandary.

No quick solution came to mind. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the room from the perspective of a captive—searching for a route of escape. There was no back door, only a small window high above the floor just to the left of the large desk.

Tossing a smile in Dupree’s direction, Laney sidled in the direction of the window as nonchalantly as possible.

The size was right, but she’d never make it through the tiny opening in her borrowed dress. Perhaps there was still hope. Having eyed an armoire before setting out, she moved back to the other side of the room, and then threw open the cabinet doors.

“What’s this? Several sets of trousers and shirts?” She slanted Dupree a look over her shoulder. “Don’t you keep a room for yourself here in the hotel?”

He didn’t answer her question directly. “As I’m sure you’ve already concluded, Miss O’Connor, there are no additional exits in this room.”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

A patronizing grin slid onto his lips. “Naturally.”

How she hated his condescension. The sneering attitude reminded Laney of Thurston P. Prescott III, the banker who’d refused to give her more time on the remaining portion of her loan. All because of a cold, judgmental heart.

Suppressing a scowl, she closed the cabinet doors and twirled in another slow circle. “Oh, my. You have a fireplace. I say, Dupree, your office is exceedingly well furnished.”

“I like nice things.”

“Of course you do.”

She doubted a wealthy man like him knew what it meant to be penniless and scared, never knowing when the next meal would come. But Laney did. As did the children whose mothers had sent them to her orphanage for safekeeping.

Laney had pledged to those women that she would provide every child living in Charity House a Christian upbringing, the comfort of a warm bed and the promise of three meals a day. She would not fail them simply because a suspicious hotel owner had misread her transaction with a prominent judge in town.

Drawing confidence from the thought of her honorable mission, Laney made her way to the fireplace mantel. She immediately took note of the tin photographs arranged haphazardly across the handcrafted stone.

How odd, she thought. The man leaning against the door, watching her through narrowed eyes, couldn’t possibly have loved ones. And yet, photographs meant family and friends. Drawn to one image in particular, Laney ran her finger along the pretty gold frame.

Concentrating on the photograph beneath her hand, she looked from the stunning woman smiling up at her, to Dupree, then back again. The resemblance was uncanny. Was this his sister? No. He seemed too hard to have a sister.

And Laney was wasting valuable time.

Glancing to the heavens, she prayed for guidance. How do I proceed, Lord? What do I say to protect Charity House and the children?

“Enough stalling, Miss O’Connor.” Dupree pushed away from the door and made his approach. “Your failure to explain your actions here tonight speaks volumes. As such, the money you accepted from Judge Greene will remain secure in my safe, and you will wait in this office while I go in search of the man myself.”

No longer caring about pride, or dignity, Laney met Dupree halfway across the room. “Please, I beg you. Don’t involve Joshua in this.”

“So now it’s Joshua, is it?”

“I meant...Judge Greene.” The correction came too late. She saw the censure in Dupree’s eyes.

“I’m afraid, Miss O’Connor, Joshua involved himself—and consequently me—when he agreed to meet you in my hotel. Since I imagine he’s smart enough not to use his real name on the register, I must ask an indelicate question. Which room is he waiting for you in?”

Laney stifled a groan that rose up in her throat.

This man seemed determined to think the worst of her. With very little evidence, he actually believed Judge Greene had rented a room in this hotel with the express purpose of spending the evening with her.

Laney would be insulted if Dupree wasn’t so completely incorrect.

Then again...

Perhaps his mistake was a blessing. Perhaps Laney could use this man’s ugly assumption of her character to her advantage.

Why not buy herself some much needed time while he went on his search. A search that would prove highly unsuccessful.

“Joshua is in room...” she paused, blinked, and then pretended to accept defeat at last “...912.”

For an endless moment, Dupree studied her face. Laney held her breath. The look of disappointment in his eyes—disappointment in her—nearly made her rethink her plan.

Should she tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand her situation. Maybe he would care.

And maybe Marc Dupree was no different than the shady banker demanding his money before their agreed upon deadline. Simply because he thought the children in her orphanage didn’t deserve a safe home in which to live. Not because they were bad children, but because of how their mothers chose to earn their living.

A living that Marc Dupree had accused Laney of conducting here tonight.

No. She couldn’t trust him.

The risk was too great.

With renewed determination, she lifted her chin a notch higher.

Dupree’s lips twisted into a frown. “Stay here.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed out of his office.

At the sound of the lock striking into place, Laney blew out a hard burst of air.

Stay here. As if he’d given her any other choice.

At least he wouldn’t find Judge Greene on the ninth floor. Or any floor, for that matter. Denver’s most respected federal judge had already exited the building by way of the back alley. By now, he was probably enjoying the rest of the evening with his very proper, very naive wife.

Dupree would be furious when he returned to his office empty-handed. Laney didn’t plan to stick around to find out just how angry. Of course, if there was no money waiting for him in the safe there could be no reason to approach the judge, now or in the future.

No evidence. No shady dealings.

Laney knew what she had to do. And she had precious little time in which to do it.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked frantically around the room. A new plan began formulating in her brain. One that would require a different ensemble than the ridiculously fancy dress she wore now.

She hurried across the room and flung open the doors to the armoire. Smiling wryly, she reached for a pair of worn trousers. Then thought better of her choice and dug deeper.

One by one, she tossed out clothing items until she found the most expensive pair of trousers and the finest linen shirt among the lot.

Kicking off her shoes, she made the change as quickly as possible. Her fingers shook over the buttons but she remained focused. Shoving up the too-long sleeves, she folded her discarded dress into a neat ball then rushed over to the safe.

Thankful she’d paid attention to Hank’s fingers working the lock, she spun the dial around, clearing it, then proceeded to get down to business.

Three turns to the right, two more to the left, a final one to the right and...

Click.

Blessed success. It took both hands to open the surprisingly heavy door. She eyed the contents, took only what belonged to her, then pushed the safe closed.

Feeling contrary, she scribbled a quick note to the owner of the hotel—it was the only proper thing to do after all the hospitality he’d given her—then, with a bold sweep of her arm, cleared the desktop of all papers.

She jumped onto the desk.

Looking to the window, she let out a chuckle. She’d scaled too many walls, jumped on and off too many trains, to let a measly little slab of glass three feet above her head daunt her now. A quick flex of fingers, a check to make sure she’d secured her reticule tightly around her wrist and she was ready.

Mind focused on one task at a time, she grabbed the window’s frame with one hand and felt around for the opening with the other. Finding the lever at last, she unlocked the latch and pushed the glass forward until she’d created a substantial slit. Careful to avoid catching the silky material on any random piece of wood or metal, she threw the borrowed dress out the opening.

Her foot found a toehold in the wall’s masonry. Pulling with her arms and pushing with her feet she raised herself up. Once she was halfway through the window, she grasped the outside casing and tugged again. One final push and she was free.

Free.

Tumbling toward the ground, she used the momentum of the fall to gather her balance.

As always, Laney landed on her feet.

Smiling, she picked up the dress, checked the condition of her reticule and took off at a full run. She made it exactly five steps before colliding into a solid mass of silk-encased muscle.

“Oh!”

The dress plummeted from her clutches. Head reeling, mind focused on escape, Laney instinctively bent to snatch the garment as quickly as possible. Her progress was halted midreach.

Powerful arms trapped her from behind, while an annoyingly familiar voice rang in her ears. “It would appear, Miss O’Connor, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Chapter Three

Laney tried to twist free, but Dupree’s hold tightened around her waist. “Be still,” he ordered.

His haughty tone slid over her, making her bolder than usual. “Or you’ll what? Hurt me?”

His arms jerked, just a bit, enough to tell her she’d hit her mark. “I’m not in the habit of harming women.”

“Then release me.”

He had the audacity to chuckle. “Not a chance, honey.”

Honey? Laney ground her teeth in frustration. But she wisely remained unmoving. As covertly as possible, she lifted her gaze and studied the window she’d just slipped through. How could Dupree have known she’d escape by way of that tiny opening?

He chuckled again. “I’m an observant man, Miss O’Connor. I watched you eye my window with the same longing that a land-bound sailor tosses at the sea.”

“How dare you?”

“I dare because I can.” He shifted his hold, drawing his arms tighter around her, as if he suspected she would make a break if he gave her an ounce of opportunity.

He was right, of course. The cad.

The knowledge that he could read her so easily sent a shiver of alarm skidding down her spine. Her bravado of only seconds before disappeared. Clearly, she’d underestimated the man.

A mistake she wouldn’t repeat.

She had to get away. But how? At the moment, he had the advantage. Unacceptable. She couldn’t allow him to keep her imprisoned in the alleyway where the dim light from the adjacent street made this encounter all too intimate. Terrifyingly so. “Let me go.”

“Not until you hand over Judge Greene’s money.”

“Money?” She struggled with every ounce of her strength, and managed to lengthen the space between them by an entire four inches. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“So we’re back to that. You might want to reconsider your denial in light of your present situation.” He spun her around to face him, clamped his hands on her shoulders and dropped an assessing glance over her. “As you must agree, you are in no position to argue.”

Far too aware of his hands on her shoulders, she swallowed back a sarcastic retort. She should be furious with indignation. Yet, as he held her trapped inside his gaze a strange, almost pleasant situation rippled through her.

What was wrong with her? This man was the enemy. The enemy! “You seem to be under the impression that you are in control right now.”

His fingers flexed, then gripped her again. Not any harder, just more securely. “Wonder where I’d come by such an idea?”

His smug attitude quickened the fight in her. Calling upon the lessons she’d learned from the friendly Chinese man at the mining camp outside Cheyenne, Laney dropped low, then bobbed to her right. She managed to surprise Dupree long enough to free herself for a full half second.

But he reached out, grasped her again then lifted her back to an upright position.

“Release me, you oaf.”

Placing her directly in front of him, he flattened his lips into a grim line. For a brief moment, their feet shuffled in a bizarre dance of wills while she tried to get free and he made sure she didn’t.

Fully in control of the situation, Dupree concluded their perplexing waltz once he had her in a spot where her only route of escape was through him.

Apparently satisfied with this new arrangement, he released her shoulders at last. “Now.” His low, gravelly drawl drifted through the air between them. “Where were we?”

A shudder of unease racked through her. “Your manly display of physical intimidation is rather pedestrian, don’t you think? Especially in light of the fact that I have done nothing wrong here tonight.”

“You claim innocence, yet you tried to make a quick escape before my return. And now that we’re on the subject.” His eyes narrowed over her. “I don’t remember giving you permission to borrow my clothes.”

She jerked her chin at him. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she faked to the right, then shifted quickly to her left. He shot out a restraining arm, and once again, moved her back to center.

“I’m warning you, Dupree—”

“Dispensing of the ‘mister,’ are we?”

Laney sniffed. “Mister implies a gentleman.” She trailed her gaze across his far too handsome face, down to his fancy vest then back again. “Regardless of the manner in which you dress, we both know you are no gentleman.”

“And since you are no lady, am I to assume we can dispense of any further pretense of good manners?”

Without waiting for her to respond, he reached out and captured a loose tendril of her hair, twined it around his finger.

For a long, stifling moment the strange sensation she’d experienced only moments before slipped through her again, freezing her into immobility. Why wasn’t she slapping his hand away? Had she no pride left?

Yes, of course she did.

Calling upon every bit of her outrage, she said, “Release me this instant.”

“In due time. But first.” He let go of her hair. “I want that money.”

“Well, you can’t have it.”

Even in the dim light she could see the exact moment his patience ran out. He grabbed for her reticule.

“Oh, no.” She whipped her arm behind her back. “This money is rightfully mine, given to me for a very good reason.”

“So you say.” He stopped his approach and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you are innocent, as you keep claiming, then you should have no problem sharing with me why Judge Greene gave you the money.”

“I...can’t tell you.”

“Of course you can’t.”

For reasons unknown to her, Laney again wished she could tell this man the truth. Marc Dupree would be a powerful ally against the likes of Thurston P. Prescott III.

“All right, Miss O’Connor. Since you refuse to do so yourself, let me explain the situation for you.”

She swallowed back a sarcastic retort and thought through her options. Except for crashing through him, she was stuck. For now.

“From your speech alone, I can only assume you’re an educated woman. And since we both know an educated woman can earn money in a variety of ways, your presence here tonight can mean only one of two things.”

Oh, how she hated that self-righteous tone in his voice, the one that sounded far too much like a banker she knew. “You have it all figured out, don’t you, Dupree?”

“Sadly, I do.” He dropped his hands to his sides and let out a regretful sigh. “The way I see it, you are either blackmailing Judge Greene or—”

“Blackmail?” Laney’s breath clogged in her throat. The nerve of the man. The gall. Next, he’d be calling her out for prostitution.

“Or...” he leaned over her “...the judge was soliciting your services for the evening.”

And there it was. The nasty accusation she’d feared. She barely resisted the urge to slap him, knowing the gesture would serve no purpose. Which only added to her frustration. “You scoundrel.”

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Either way, neither activity is allowed in my hotel. So, again, I suggest you hand over the money with no more fuss so I may return it to Judge Greene.”

“You seem to take great pleasure in thinking the worst in people.”

“Not all people.”

Out of patience herself, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. Hard.

He didn’t budge an inch. Provoking beyond measure, yet invaluable information for the future.

“I know firsthand what women like you are about, Miss O’Connor.”

“Making assumptions again?”

“Absolutely. But I will admit, as reprehensible as I find your choice of lifestyle, I’m certain there are others who find you alluring and appreciate your, shall we call them...talents.”

Laney sidled to her left.

Dupree scooted her back to the right.

“Talents?” she asked in an overly polite tone. “What sort of talents are we talking about?” As if she didn’t know what he meant.

“For one, you dress like a well-bred lady with an accomplished eye for style.” He dropped his gaze a moment. “Your present attire not included.”

This time, she strayed to the right.

He hauled her back to center. “You speak with perfect diction, somewhat uncommon in these parts. And, most recently, you climbed out of my window with the finesse of a—”

“Skilled acrobat?”

“Precisely.”

Not sure what she heard in his voice—grudging respect, censure?—she granted him her most unpleasant smile, the one she reserved for bankers and highborn gentleman in red silk vests.

Finally, an idea came to her. She could still get away with the money—her money—but before she resorted to such an underhanded tactic, she had to try to escape in a fair manner one last time.

Didn’t she always tell the children to think before they acted? Didn’t she warn them of the dangers of sinful behavior? How could Laney ignore everything she tried to teach the children and still face them in the morning?

Determined to hold onto the remaining scraps of her integrity, she scrambled to her right. Again, Dupree pushed her back to her original position.

So be it.

I tried, Lord. Truly, I tried. I pray, please, forgive me for what I’m about to do.

“You know, Dupree, I have other, equally impressive...talents.”

“Oh? Do you cook, sew, ride a horse with great skill?”

Sniffing at his attempt to goad her, she took a step toward him and grasped the sides of his vest. “You are becoming redundant.”

“As are you, honey.”

Honey. She was really starting to dislike that word. Nevertheless, she touched her fingertip to the top button of his vest.

Eyes lowering to half-mast, he captured her hand in a light but firm grip. “I wouldn’t advise continuing down this path, Miss O’Connor.”

Allowing him to misunderstand her intent, she moved a step closer. “You sure you don’t want to see what I can do?”

His look turned sardonic. “I’m afraid I must decline further demonstration of this particular skill.”

“Once again,” she tugged her hand free, “you have chosen to misread the situation.”

He swallowed. Once. Twice. Then again more slowly. Very slowly. “By all means, honey, prove me wrong.”

“Gladly.” She shifted her weight, planting her left foot slightly behind her right. To keep his attention off her new position, she toyed with his lapel again. “You see,” she said in a light, airy tone. “When cornered, I fight like I do everything else.”

“You lie and cheat?”

“No.” She gave him her most brilliant smile and took a step back. “I win.”

She raised her right knee and, leading with her heel, slammed her foot into his chest. The blow landed exactly as her friend had taught her.

Caught off guard, Dupree stumbled backward. His gasp of surprise wasn’t as gratifying as Laney would have predicted.

This was her one chance. With a quick snatch, she retrieved her bundled dress and tore around the corner at breakneck speed. She quickened her pace to a flat-out run as the bellowed promise to hunt her down like a rabid dog nipped at her heels.

* * *

Minutes later, Marc charged wordlessly to the back of his hotel. Holding on to his anger—barely—he released the lock and with a violent shove, plowed into his office. The earsplitting crack of door meeting wall punctuated his foul mood. Unfortunately, the jarring noise did nothing to eliminate the reality of the last ten minutes. Not since Pearl ran off with his fortune could Marc recall a time he’d suffered so complete a defeat.

Oh, he’d known Miss O’Connor would attempt to steal away with what she claimed was her rightful possession. He’d even expected her to resort to whatever means necessary to escape. Her kind always thought in terms of survival. What he hadn’t imagined was to find room 912 empty and Joshua Greene long gone by the time Marc had arrived.

Had the judge known he was coming to confront him?

Not possible. There had been no time or opportunity for Miss O’Connor to warn him.

Rubbing the spot where she’d landed her heel to his chest, Marc let out a frustrated hiss. How could such a tiny, delicate woman land a blow with so much force? She hadn’t hurt him, not by half. He’d suffered far worse from rowdy drunks and mean-spirited outlaws. Nevertheless, she’d taken him by surprise, enough to throw him off-balance and make her getaway.

The situation defied logic. And Marc was a man who relied solely on logic. Emotion, blind faith, he allowed neither in his life.

Shifting his angry gaze around what used to be his highly organized personal sanctuary, he slammed his fist into his open palm. He’d left the woman alone for fifteen minutes and she’d wreaked havoc. Risking a step through the clothes scattered on the floor, he tripped over a very delicate, very female slipper.

He kicked the offensive shoe out of his way and eyed the strewn papers at his feet. Papers that had once been in neat piles on his desk.

“Did she leave nothing untouched?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Marc fought for control. But then he spotted a slip of paper propped against a pile of books on his desk. A second later, he whipped the note from its perch with as much intensity as he’d used to enter the room.

If the miserable handwriting was any indication, Miss O’Connor had scrawled the words with as little care as she’d given his office.

Marc’s irritation only increased as he read her parting jab.

My Dear Mr. Dupree,

Thank you for your splendid hospitality this evening.

But I’m afraid I must decline your offer to remain any longer. I have a much more pressing engagement with your window.

Yours most humbly,

Miss Laney O’Connor

Crushing the paper in his fist, Marc stifled the urge to take off after the woman without formulating a plan of action. Not the most logical move. Calling upon his well-honed control, he shut his eyes and released all the air from his lungs.

Dark, ugly thoughts linked together in his mind until one emerged over all the others. Laney O’Connor had chosen the wrong hotel, on the wrong evening, to play out her little intrigue with a federal judge.

Five years ago, Marc had embarked on the greatest debacle of his life—marriage to Pearl LaRue. The events of the last hour merely added another layer of indignity to his rash, youthful mistake of thinking he could turn a bad woman good.

Having been raised by loving, Christian parents, Marc had operated on the belief that all fall short of the glory of God and that the Lord’s unending grace was administered through His people. People with the means and desire to serve.

He’d been naive, painfully so. But Marc had learned his lesson, thanks to Pearl’s betrayal. When she’d grown bored with him, she hadn’t simply run off with another man. She’d robbed Marc blind. She’d emptied his bank accounts, his personal safe and, most humbling, his wallet—then she’d found someone else to share her spoils.

Marc’s resulting years of poverty had taught him well. Back on his feet, his coffers fuller than ever, he was no longer in the business of saving souls.

That didn’t mean he didn’t offer women of questionable virtue a chance to change their lives. He provided them with an honest living, but left the condition of their souls to the local pastor. If they chose to return to their old way of life, who was he to stop them?

Which begged the question. Why was he so disillusioned with Laney O’Connor’s behavior tonight? What about the woman made Marc want to give her the benefit of the doubt?

Was it the look of desperation he’d caught snatches of in her startling gaze?

He knew better than to trust her, or her lies. And yet, here he stood, on the night of what would have been his wedding anniversary, wanting to believe in a woman no different from the one he’d married all those years ago. He’d thought he’d learned his lesson.

An uncomfortable ache spread through him as he realized just how much he’d wanted Laney O’Connor to be the innocent she’d proclaimed to be over and over again.

Even now, the thought of her making her way through the Denver streets, alone, with all that money, at this late hour, didn’t sit well with him. He—

A loud rap against the doorjamb knocked Marc out of his musing.

“Mr. Dupree, I’m sorry she got away.” Hank’s gaze tracked through the room. “She...I mean, I never thought she’d climb out of the window. I thought—”

Marc lifted a hand to stop the stilted flow of words. “I know, Hank. She fooled us both.” Remembering the way she’d toyed with his vest, drawing his attention away from the situation, then unceremoniously kicking him in the chest, he shook his head. “In more ways than one.”

“She seemed, I don’t know, honest.” Hank visibly cringed as his gaze landed on the open safe. “I never would have taken her for a woman of such questionable...character.”

The same thought had gnawed at Marc from the start, but he’d learned long ago that people were rarely what they seemed. He shouldn’t have been surprised by Miss O’Connor’s deception. But he was. Shockingly, profoundly, inexplicably shaken to the core.

“The world is full of dishonest people,” he said for Hank’s benefit as well as his own.

All sin and fall short of the glory of God.

His mother’s favorite Bible verse and a truth that pertained to Marc far more often than not. Despite his efforts to remain above reproach, he made mistakes. Perhaps knowing he often fell short explained why Marc still wanted to believe Miss O’Connor wasn’t what she seemed. That she was...somehow...more.

“I wonder how she figured out the combination,” Hank said, still eyeing the open safe.

Marc rubbed his palm over his chest. “She watched your fingers.”

“You...” Hank blinked at him. “You knew?”

Marc nodded. Pearl had pulled a similar stunt.

The abrupt silence that fell over the room stood in stark contrast to the noise echoing from the main part of the hotel.

In the ensuing hush Marc came to a decision. “I’m going out. While I’m gone, switch that,” he pointed to the safe, “with the one in my rooms upstairs.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Marc paced to the doorway. Hank stopped him before he could leave. “Where you headed? In case I need you.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, Marc stated the obvious. “Hollady Street.” Where the bulk of Denver’s brothels were located.

“The Row? You think Miss O’Connor lives...there?”

“It’s the most logical place for a woman like her.”

Not that Marc thought she was a regular, run-of-the-mill prostitute. Considering her mode of dress and impeccable speech, he feared she was something far worse. A madam. One who employed the kind of girls Marc hired away for their own good.

This was no longer about money. In truth, his clash with Miss O’Connor had never been about the contents of her reticule. But rather, how and why she’d acquired the large sum.

Marc wasn’t through with the woman.

Once he located her on The Row he would explain to her, in excruciating detail, why she could not use his hotel to conduct her unsavory business ever again. No matter how discreet or desperate she might be. He would then seek out Judge Greene and explain the situation to him as well.

This wasn’t personal. Hotel Dupree’s sterling reputation was at stake, a reputation Marc had spent three years honing to perfection.

“One thing’s for certain, Hank. I’ll root our little fox out of her lair before daybreak. And when I’m through with her, she’ll be sorry she ever strayed into my hotel.”

Hank’s smile bowed with the same grim determination Marc savored in his own heart. “Happy hunting, boss.”

Chapter Four

Home at last, Laney stood at the bottom of the front steps and admired the three-story house glowing golden under the streetlamp. She couldn’t help but smile at the house that was now a home for nearly thirty abandoned children.

After four lean years, and two strapping loans, Laney had turned the ordinary structure into an enchanting brick mansion. The result was as fine as any house owned by her fashionable neighbors in the Highlands of North Denver. She’d come a long way from the grubby mining camps and saloons of her childhood.

In her overzealous attempt to provide more than a roof and bed for the children, she’d left no detail to chance. She’d furnished the twelve bedrooms, two sitting rooms, and three parlors with tasteful furniture. She’d hung expensive wallpaper, ordered rugs straight from Paris, and purchased assorted fineries for every room.

Perhaps she’d gone a bit overboard.

How could she not? What better way to demonstrate God’s majesty than by providing the children with unspeakable beauty and grandeur in their everyday lives? Lives that had been filled with far too much squalor and despair prior to arriving at Charity House.

An image of Marc Dupree splintered through her thoughts and a sudden, ugly dose of conscience whipped through Laney. She hadn’t behaved completely without fault tonight. In fact, she’d been intentionally misleading, deceptive even, practically lying to the man. Just how far was she willing to go to save Charity House from foreclosure?

The front door opened a crack, rescuing Laney from further reflection on the consequences of her behavior this evening. Katherine Taylor, the young woman she’d left in charge, came out onto the porch. “Well? What happened?”

Laney skipped up the steps. “We did it, Katherine.” She pulled her friend into a fierce hug. “Our worries are finally over.”

“You got the money? He gave you all of it?” Katherine pulled back and searched Laney’s face. “All five hundred dollars? How did you convince him?”

“The details aren’t important.”

Stepping farther back, Katherine scanned Laney from head to toe. “What happened to Sally’s dress?”

“Plans changed.” Laney held up the gold silk bundle. “I had to switch clothes at the last minute.”

Katherine planted her balled fists on her hips. “You didn’t do anything unlawful, did you?”

“Of course not.”

The truth, up to a point. She’d only allowed Dupree to think she’d planned to conduct a shameful act with Judge Greene. Her actions had been misleading, but not criminal.

Considering how Katherine would worry herself sick if she knew the full story, Laney decided to keep the details of her encounter with Dupree to herself. “I have in my possession the money we need to save Charity House. Now stop with the questions and enjoy our moment of triumph.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled. But why won’t you look me in the eye? I’m almost twenty. Plenty old enough to handle whatever it is you’re hiding from me.”

Laney squared her shoulders. But to her chagrin, she couldn’t hold Katherine’s gaze longer than a second or two. It was no use pretending all was well. She was going to have to tell her friend at least part of what had occurred this evening. “Don’t start making judgments before you hear the whole story.”

“Oh, Laney, what did you do?”

“Only what was necessary.”

“No, I’m sure you did more, as always. Look at this place.” She wound her hand in a circle. “It’s a mansion. Orphanages are usually full of filth, misery and despair, especially for the likes of us, the unwanted children of prostitutes.”

Uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, Laney grimaced. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“No, you just made a dream come true for children who have lived without hope most of their lives. You are a good, Christian woman with a big heart, Laney O’Connor.”

If only that were true. “Don’t make me out to be more than I am. When my mother moved us to Mattie’s brothel, I couldn’t get out fast enough. I didn’t want to go it alone, so I took the rest of the children with me. That’s selfish, not noble.”

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know how hard you’ve worked to make Charity House a reality. You wouldn’t intentionally jeopardize it by...” Katherine’s voice trailed off. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

Laney looked over her shoulder, praying she’d done enough to ensure Dupree hadn’t followed her. She’d darted up, down and across several streets, then doubled back three more times.

But just in case...

“Let’s head inside for the rest of this conversation.”

Frowning, Katherine allowed Laney to hook their arms together. “We’re going to keep Charity House, right?”

The quick flash of terror in the younger woman’s eyes, the same one Laney saw every time she looked in the mirror, called to the part of her that would do anything to save the orphanage. Unfortunately, her efforts never proved enough. Oh, she provided a home, material luxuries, and even love, but she had yet to figure out a way to erase the one thing the orphans all shared.

Uncertainty.

Mistrust and fear lived in all their gazes, in their very souls. It was one thing to teach the children about Christ’s love, quite another for them to accept the Lord in their hearts, fully, and without reservation.

If only it were easier for them to believe they mattered, truly mattered, as precious children of God. But their pasts didn’t allow for a straightforward, trouble-free path to salvation. The choice to believe was an individual matter, one Laney couldn’t settle for anyone but herself, despite her desire to do so for the children in her care.

When she’d stared into Dupree’s eyes, Laney had seen a similar restlessness and need for peace.

Could that have been why she’d come so close to sharing her troubles with him? Because something deep within her had recognized a hurting soul like her own?

No. Ridiculous, dangerous thinking. Clearly, she’d lost her perspective. Thanks to the harsh reality of life as the daughter of a prostitute who’d killed herself with too much laudanum, Laney knew better than to rely on a man, any man. After witnessing her mother’s choice of lifestyle and eventual destruction, how could Laney toss away her caution after one evening in the company of Marc Dupree?

A breeze kicked up, rustling the bushes lining the porch. The ominous quiver in her heart urged Laney to pull Katherine toward the house. “Inside. Quick.”

“Why the urgency?” Katherine looked behind her. “Laney? Are you in trouble?”

Concentrating on hustling the other woman inside the house, Laney tugged harder. “Quickly, Katherine. Quickly.”

Once in the front parlor, with the dark night firmly locked outside where it belonged, Laney tossed Sally’s dress on a blue velvet couch. Katherine moved through the room lighting candles. Laney waited, savoring the moment of serenity passing through her. How she loved the soft, warm glow of real candlelight.

Katherine lit the last candle, turned and centered her gaze on Laney’s bare feet. “What happened to your shoes?”

Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, Laney moved deeper in the room. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“Perhaps it’s time you shared the details of your evening with me.”

Laney worked her reticule free from her wrist then handed over the bag. “This is all you need to know.”

Fingers shaking, Katherine opened the satchel and caught her breath inside an audible gasp.

“It’s real,” Laney said with a smile.

Almost reverently, Katherine touched the money with a delicate caress, as though afraid it would disappear if she handled it improperly. “Oh, Laney.” Unshed tears pooled in her eyes. “Our troubles are truly over.”

Drawing closer, Laney peered inside the reticule as well. Why didn’t she feel the same joy she heard in Katherine’s voice? Perhaps because she’d come so close to losing it all. She hadn’t been prepared for Marc Dupree. Or her strange reaction to him. Or the inexplicable need to profess her situation and ask for his assistance, no matter how fleeting.

A thousand ripples of unease churned in her stomach, reminding her of the weakness she’d discovered in herself tonight, the unthinkable wish to rely on a man, a man with impossible standards she could never hope to meet.

“All right, Laney. What happened? You might as well tell me whatever it is you’re hiding behind that scowl.”

Sighing, she lowered to a brocade settee and gave up pretending everything had gone as planned. “I went to the Hotel Dupree to meet Judge Greene at the agreed upon time...”

She stopped midsentence, unsure how to continue. How could she tell Katherine about Marc Dupree and their strange run-in? “I don’t know if you should hear this, Katherine. You’re not like the rest of us.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Laney softened her words with a smile. “Your mother only turned to prostitution after your father died. She never made you live among it. That alone makes you different. You’re also formally educated. You went to that prestigious school back East. What was it called?”

“Miss Lindsay’s Select School for Young Ladies.” Katherine sat beside Laney and set the reticule between them. “But that was my past. I’m here now, as much a part of Charity House as the rest of the orphans.”

“Not by choice. You’d still be living in Boston, probably married to a wealthy gentleman, if that school hadn’t expelled you when they found out about your mother’s profession. Even now, you could get a teaching job in any number of places.”

Eyes blinking rapidly, Katherine swiped at her wet cheeks. “But Charity House is my home. Where I belong. I’d do anything to keep this orphanage running.”

“As long as it was ethical.”

“Well, yes, that goes without saying.” Katherine took Laney’s hand. “All right, enough stalling. Let’s have the rest of it. You went to the hotel, and...”

Laney bit her bottom lip as she searched for the right words. Katherine might have been forced to return to Denver, but she was still a product of her years back East, educated, moral, raised with Christian values, an example for the others. Would she understand the desperation that had led Laney to withhold information from Dupree?

She didn’t want to find out. Not tonight. “And...the judge handed over the money. His debt is canceled. Charity House is saved. The end.”

“So, it’s that simple.”

Laney drew a quick breath of air. “Yes.”

“Don’t you think I deserve to hear the rest, the portion you’re hiding from me? Please, I’ve lived with the fear of losing Charity House just as deeply as you have. Maybe more.” A shadow fell over her face. “I have no skills, no real life experiences to speak of.”

“You have an education. You could teach school, just as you’ve taught me.”

“Who would hire a woman like me, an infamous madam’s daughter?” Katherine shut her eyes a moment and sighed heavily. “I have nowhere else to go. Now convince me I have nothing to worry about.”

Taking a deep breath, Laney began her tale, but Katherine cut her off almost before she begun. “The hotel owner witnessed the transaction?”

“It gets worse.” Laney proceeded to tell her friend the rest.

When she reached the end, Katherine gaped at her for several long seconds. “He confiscated the money? But why?”

“He runs a proper hotel, Katherine, something I can’t fault him for.” Dupree, for all his other unsavory characteristics, was clearly a man of integrity. Hard on others, true, but probably just as hard on himself.

Before she started sympathizing with the cad, she shook her head and continued. “When he saw me speaking with Judge Greene and then witnessed money changing he hands, he thought...well, he thought the worst.”

“Oh, Laney.”

“I never admitted to any wrongdoing. Why would I? I’d done nothing improper. But I couldn’t reveal my reason for meeting with Judge Greene, per his adamant request. Nor did I try to dissuade Dupree’s misconception of my character.” And that had been wrong of her, dreadfully wrong. “When he locked me in his office—”

“He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“But I don’t understand.” Katherine shook her head. “How did you get the money back?”

She touched the reticule, pulled on one of the strings, then the other, toyed with them. The gesture reminded her of the way Dupree had captured her hair around his finger, how he’d stared at it for an endless moment, and how—

She cut off the rest of her thoughts and focused on answering Katherine’s question. “I had to...um...climb out of his office window, hence the change in attire.”

“Oh, Laney.”

She glossed over the part about breaking into his safe, making sure to tone down her use of physical violence to make her final escape from the alleyway.

“Oh, Laney.”

“Would you stop saying ‘Oh, Laney’ in that disenchanted tone of yours? You sound like a shocked, elderly aunt instead of a young woman barely twenty years old.”

“Well, someone needs to think like an adult.” Katherine jumped to her feet and paced through the room. After her second pass, she turned back to face Laney. “Tell me more about this hotel owner.”

A shudder quickened Laney’s pulse. Dupree had been a formidable foe, far more clever than the banker she’d sparred with this morning. Prescott incited only disdain in her heart. While Dupree called up a mixture of emotions that confused her, and blunted the edge she usually relied on to aid her in sticky situations.

“I never want to see that man again. He’s judgmental, arrogant and enjoys jumping to conclusions without a shred of evidence.”

Eyebrows traveling upward, Katherine wrapped her arms across her waist and said, “Not a shred?”

Laney broke eye contact. “All right, maybe I sent his mind in a few wrong directions.”

“I read in the Denver Chronicle that he’s impossibly handsome.”

“You have no idea.”

Silence fell over them as each considered the events of the evening from their own perspective.

“Laney?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Mr. Dupree will leave the situation alone now that you’ve taken the money?”

“I...” A shudder of apprehension passed through her. “I don’t know.”

“Will he still try to confront Judge Greene without the evidence in hand?”

She could lie. She could pretend matters weren’t as dire as they really were. Their long-running friendship deserved better. “He might.”

Hands trembling, Katherine sank back on the settee. “What are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can do. We’ll pay off the loan the moment the bank opens in the morning.” The idea swelled within her, creating a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in days. “That way, no matter what Dupree decides to do next, we’ll already own Charity House. Even if he confronts Judge Greene there won’t be much either man can do at that point.”

“Other than make trouble for us, in all sorts of awful ways.”

Laney batted away Katherine’s objection with a flick of her wrist.

“No. Don’t dismiss my concerns like that. What if Judge Greene teams up with Mr. Dupree, if for no other reason than to save face? What if they try to shut us down for some unknown, yet perfectly legal reason? What if they—”

“Stop, Katherine. Just stop. We must stay positive, and pray that Dupree will drop the matter now that I’m gone.”

“You really think he’ll leave us alone?”

“Yes, as long as he doesn’t find us.”

Katherine sighed heavily.

Looking at the clock on the mantel, Laney shoved her worries behind a brilliant smile. “Three hours, Katherine. We only have three short hours before the bank opens for business. By the time Dupree finds me, if he finds me, he’ll be too late.”

“You seem awfully confident.” Rising to her feet once again, Katherine moved to the window and looked out. “You’re sure he didn’t follow you home.”

Laney joined her friend at the window. “I was careful to lead him far away from Charity House. If I’m as good as I think I am, which I am, Dupree is looking for me on The Row.”

“The Row?” Katherine’s mouth dropped. “He thinks you live in a...a...brothel?”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “That would be my guess.”

“You’re reckless. That’s what you are.” Although Katherine’s tone held far too much worry for Laney’s peace of mind, a loving glint filled the other woman’s gaze.

Visibly relaxing, Laney smiled in return. “Perhaps I am more than a little reckless. But thanks to my quick thinking, Marc Dupree is chasing shadows on the other side of town. Now, stop worrying and trust me.” She squeezed Katherine’s arm. “I have matters completely under control.”

Katherine rubbed her temples. “Why is it every time you say that we end up in worse trouble than before?”

Chapter Five

Precisely three hours after arriving home from the Hotel Dupree, Laney bypassed the tellers, skirted along the high railing on her left, then charged toward the bank owner’s private office. Unwilling to wait for a response to her knock, she turned the knob and pressed forward. “I’m here to discuss my loan.”

Thurston P. Prescott III didn’t bother looking up as he waved his fleshy hand in bored indifference. “There is nothing more to say, Miss O’Connor. My terms stand.”

Outlaw, she wanted to scream. Cheat. Just yesterday, he’d adopted that same thinly veiled scorn, then shamelessly called in her loan six months early. No warning. No viable explanation. Merely the end of all her dreams for the children.

Exhaling slowly, Laney forced aside her hostility and coaxed her lips into a pleasant smile. “I have one final item to address.”

His attention riveted on the papers before him, Prescott scratched his salt-and-pepper beard and patently ignored her. Laney widened her stance, calling upon the patience she’d lost the day before while standing in this very spot. The constant, even ticking of the wall clock beat in stark contrast to the banker’s furious scribbling. The rich smell of polished mahogany and perfectly aged leather extolled power, ownership.

Laney refused to be intimidated.

She poked at the stack of papers nearest to her, sending them scattering to the floor. “Oh, my, look what I’ve done.”

Prescott’s head snapped up. Frustration knitted across his bushy brows. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear. As of this morning, you now have two days left to come up with the money.” He dipped his pen in the inkwell on his left, then returned his gaze to his paperwork. “You know the way out.”

Oh, no. He wasn’t sending her away yet. Not before she’d settled her loan. “I will take only a moment more of your time.”

Silence was his only reply.

Laney released a small sigh of satisfaction and plucked the neatly wrapped bundle of money from the hidden pocket in her skirt. “Perhaps you’ll be interested in what I have to say now.”

With a steady hand, she set the sizable pile directly where he’d fastened his attention after dismissing her so coldly.

In one swift movement, he snatched the money off the desk and looked up. His small, sharp eyes hardened. Sputtering, he flung his ugly glare from her face to the money in his hand and back again.

“It’s all there.” Laney granted him her most pleasant smile. “All five hundred dollars.”

For a moment his gaze filled with disdain, but then he set the money back on the desk and cleared his expression of all emotion, save one. Suspicion. “How did you come upon this much money in one day?”

A flicker of conscience ignited, making it no longer possible to escape the truth any longer. Yes, Judge Greene had owed Laney the money for Johnny’s room and board over the past three years. And, yes, he should have been paying all along for his son’s care. But that didn’t make what Laney had done the most ethical of routes she could have chosen to raise the money.

She’d used the man’s former “friendship” with her mother—as well as his current one with several other women in Mattie’s brothel—to insist he pay off his debt. Worse, Laney had led him to believe she would make his life difficult if he didn’t do so at once.

That had been wrong. Justified, perhaps, but wrong.

Forgive me, Lord.

Drawing in a slow breath, Laney fought to keep the shame out of her voice as she spoke. “Does it matter where the money came from?”

Eyes narrowed, Prescott slapped both palms on his desk and leaned forward. “Yes, Miss O’Connor, it matters significantly. I must know, without a single doubt, that every dollar of this money is truly yours.”

Laney sighed. She should have been prepared for such a reaction. But she’d been so relieved Judge Greene had cooperated without a fuss she hadn’t thought much further. After convincing Katherine all was well, she’d changed clothes, helped with the children’s morning routine, then hurried to the bank.

Tired now, and more than a little frightened, she did what came naturally. She fought for what was hers. “Telling you where or how I got this money was not part of our agreement. All you said was that I had to pay off my loan in three days. And there is my payment.” She pointed to the money.

A succession of creaks and groans exploded in the air as the banker shifted his considerable frame into another position. Resting his elbows on the chair’s arm, he steepled his fingers under his chin. “Did you steal it?”

“No.” The very idea.

“Then I’ll ask just one more time, before I throw you out of my office. Where did you get the money?”

How she detested that smug condemnation in his eyes. A man like Prescott, with his fancy clothes, obscene wealth, and judgmental nature exemplified all that threatened her children’s chance of a secure future. “Let’s just say I have a...benefactor.”

Now why had she said that, as though she were a woman cut from the same cloth as her mother? She had no doubt Marc Dupree would positively go apoplectic if he heard what she’d just claimed, all but confirming his bad opinion of her.

Disturbed by the direction of her thoughts and that she’d think of the handsome hotel owner at a time like this, she batted at a stubborn curl falling loose from its pins below her hat. What did it matter what Dupree thought of her? If she’d done her job properly last night, and had fully misled him into thinking she lived on The Row, she would never see the man again.

A pity.

No. Not a pity. A blessing.

Studying her with narrowed eyes, Prescott rose from his chair and made his way around the desk.

Laney threw her head back and held his stare, refusing to stir as the banker drew closer. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, she would not let this man see how much she abhorred his self-serving attitude. The one that led him to give and take money whenever it pleased him.

“You have a...benefactor?” He practically spat the word.

“I do.”

“You expect me to believe some misguided soul gave you five hundred dollars? Your friends on The Row may help you out on occasion, as well as a few saloon owners, but I know for a fact that none of them have the kind of money you just delivered here today.”

Laney swallowed back a nasty retort and concentrated on remaining calm. “Is it so hard to comprehend?”

“I find it impossible. No one would give money to you or that...home...of yours. A place filled with illegitimate children with mothers working on The Row.” His face inflated with fury. “It’s beyond repulsive.”

Laney recoiled at the callous words. “No child is repulsive.” Let these little ones come to me. “There are many people in Denver who see the need for my orphanage.”

“You mean the shamed mothers of your kind who need a place to discard their brats.”

Her knees buckled at the venom in his tone. Hands trembling, she grasped the side of the desk to steady herself. This man, with his refined eastern accent and overfilled belly, had never cared about Charity House. Or the children. But surely, he held a fondness for one of them. “What about your son?”

“Don’t ever mention that boy in my presence again.” His rage reverberated in his voice.

“But I thought you wanted to provide for Michael’s future, if not for the other children.”

“That was never my intention.” Prescott’s lips twisted in a snarl. “He’s Sally’s problem, not mine.”

Hypocrite. Just like the men who’d come to Laney’s mother, wanting their pleasure and paying handsomely for it, then cursing her unholy profession once back in their daily lives on the righteous side of Hollady Street. “If that’s how you feel, then why lend me the money in the first place?”

“Simple.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I knew you could never pay back that much money in time. I gave it to you so you would fail. And then Denver would be rid of you and your brats for good.”

He’d wanted her to fail? He might as well have grasped her heart and squeezed the very life out of it. She clamped her lips tight shut, shunning the weak tears that would proclaim her despair to this man. All this time, Laney thought Prescott had loaned her the money for the benefit of his six-year-old son. She’d been wrong. So...very...wrong.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” she said, realizing the truth as she spoke it out loud. “You signed our agreement. That makes it legal. You can’t deny me the right to pay off my loan.”

He blinked, his insults held in check for the first time during their association. Sensing victory, Laney clutched her small advantage and pounced. “Take the money and let’s be done with this distasteful business between us.”

Prescott paused. “I’ll have to count it.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Laney nodded. “By all means, take your time. My morning is yours.”

As he rounded his desk and lowered back into his chair, a sense of euphoria built inside her.

Almost there.

Counting one bill at a time, he made slow work of checking the amount.

Almost there. Almost there.

His gaze unreadable, Prescott set the last bill on top of the pile and looked up at her.

“You lose, Mr. Prescott.” Laney allowed a full smile to lengthen across her lips. “And now I own Charity House.”

I own Charity House. The thought coiled in her head, making her dizzy with relief.

All she had to do was endure a few more tense moments in this awful man’s company and she’d never have to deal with him again.

“Before I leave this morning I want the deed to Charity House. And I want you to put in writing that I have no more debt owed to this bank. Or to you.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

What? “Why not?”

“You’re short the full amount.” He patted the stack of money.

“Short?” That couldn’t be correct. “The full amount is there, all five hundred dollars. I counted the stack myself, just this morning.”

“You didn’t include the interest.”

Every fiber of her being froze at the look of pleasure on Prescott’s face. “Interest?”

“You can’t think I would have given you three extra days on your loan without a penalty.”

He had the audacity to look sorrowful now, as though the matter was out of his hands. A lie. They both knew he was the owner of this bank. He could add or subtract any terms he liked, on whatever whim suited him.

“Have you no decency?” she whispered, trying to reconcile the man standing before her with the one he presented to the good people of Denver. He attended church every Sunday, pretended piousness while in the pew, and then conducted shameless usury the rest of the week.

“How much interest are you talking about?”

“Ten percent.”

She gasped.

“But to prove I’m a fair man, I’ll extend your loan through the end of the month without adding any additional fee.”

Fifty dollars. He wanted an additional fifty dollars in less than three weeks. It might as well be five thousand. How would she ever raise more money, when she’d already tapped all her normal sources, a few not-so-normal, and then one more?

She’d failed. When she’d come so close to victory.

And somehow Prescott knew she had no more resources at her disposal.

No. No. She couldn’t give up. Not with nearly three weeks left to formulate a plan. Surely Laney could find the extra fifty dollars in the allotted timeframe. She could go to the children’s mothers, again, or even Mattie Silks herself. Laney could cut costs to the bare bone, or maybe find a job.

What sort of job would pay that kind of money?

Something...anything...

Please, Lord, show me the way.

“All right, Mr. Prescott. I accept your terms.” As if she had any other choice. “You will have the additional fifty dollars by the end of the month.”

“Good enough.”

Not by half. Laney had learned her lesson. She knew better than to walk out of this office with only a verbal agreement between them. Not this time. Not ever again.

“Before I go,” she said, “I want the new conditions of my loan in writing, spelled out in clear language, signed by us both with at least two witnesses present.”

Owl-eyed and motionless, he blinked up at her.

Laney held his stare, boldly, fearlessly, silently calling his bluff as though they were in a high-stakes poker game with both their livelihoods on the line. “I’ll wait while you draw up the document.”

* * *

Hours of walking countless streets and alleyways in the wee hours of the morning had helped Marc’s anger simmer to a low boil. He’d searched the length of The Row—Denver’s notorious red-light district—but had not discovered Miss O’Connor’s brothel or her alternate place of business.

The slippery woman had vanished completely and the suspicion that she was not what she seemed thrashed to life all over again.

Where was she? And more importantly, what could have possibly birthed that look of desperation in those beautiful, expressive eyes? Had she incurred a sizable debt that required quick payment?

A possibility, to be sure.

Perhaps that shifty banker Prescott would have some answers. Not long after moving to Denver, Marc had discovered the man’s uncanny knack for asserting himself into almost every major financial transaction in the city. If Laney O’Connor owed money to someone in town, there was a high possibility Prescott would know the particulars. Or worse, had involved himself in the matter personally.

Marc wouldn’t wish that cruelty on anyone, not even Miss O’Connor.

When he entered the bank, the clerk told him he would have to wait his turn to speak with Prescott. The owner was already conducting business with another customer.

None too happy, Marc thrust aside his impatience and sat in a chair facing the glass-encased office split into three sections by polished wooden planks. The elegant interior of the bank called to mind his youthful days in New Orleans, before the war had destroyed the opulence in which he’d been born. He knew it was a time that could never be regained. Yet the soothing memories of that simpler life flooded his mind, sending a sharp homesickness for family, and what might have been.

He’d lost so much, not just the only way of life he’d ever known, but far too many loved ones as well. Perhaps that explained why he’d been fooled into thinking he could reclaim some of his joy with Pearl by his side.

Pearl. What a debacle their marriage had been.

If only he’d caught up with her before she’d died in that train wreck, he wouldn’t feel such regret, or such disgrace. But after three arduous years of searching, the last two conducted by an overpaid Pinkerton agent, Marc still didn’t know where his wife had hidden the remaining portion of his fortune. All he knew was that she’d spent the bulk of the money in Cripple Creek during the first few months after she’d left him.

Unwilling to allow the melancholy he’d banished years ago to return this morning, he diverted his attention back to Prescott’s office. At the sight of the woman jerking her chin at the banker, Marc straightened in his chair.

He knew that particular gesture, and that defiant angle of delicate female shoulders. The familiar prickling on the back of his neck confirmed her identity more surely than if she’d turned around to face him. “Laney O’Connor.”

Outfitted in a pale pink, really very homely dress, she still managed to catch his attention and hold it fast.

The moment she squared her tiny shoulders and jutted her nose in the air, Marc stood.

No wonder he hadn’t located the woman on The Row. The little con had been conducting affairs of a very different nature this morning. Was she starting her own brothel? That would explain the odd, hushed-mouthed reticence of the madams he’d questioned throughout the night and early-morning hours.

How he wished it weren’t true, but what else would explain the need for such a large sum of money, money she was using to conduct business with the shadiest banker in town? Marc could hardly bear the thread of disappointment braiding through him.

Surprisingly heavyhearted, he continued to watch Miss O’Connor deal with Prescott. She shrugged in response to something the man said, and then turned to look out the office windows. Her gaze roamed the bank in the same cool, calculating manner she’d used to survey Marc’s hotel last night.

He took a step forward, ensuring she saw him when her gaze crossed in his direction. The instant those amber eyes met his, he nodded. Her wide-eyed flush prompted him to add a bit of sarcasm to the moment. He delivered a two-finger salute.

She shifted her stance, shot him a frown and then purposely turned her back to him. Her slight tremble told the true story of her reaction to his presence in the bank. She should be worried.

The time had come to finish their conversation from last night, with Marc the ultimate victor. And he knew just how to orchestrate his triumph.

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