Lady Fugitive (27 page)

"I want to go home." Richelle
announced firmly. "And I want Lorella to come with me."

Sheila instantly regretted asking the
young girl, one of her newest, to aid Richelle during her stay. The two girls
were close in age, and Sheila had more than once seen them talking or laughing
together. She'd been pleased at the time. Richelle could use a friend after all
she'd suffered recently. But Sheila hadn't anticipated that the new friendship
bond would lead to a financial loss to her business.

"I know how you feel about the
girls leaving, Sheila."

She shrugged. It happened. More often
than most churchgoers believed. Few girls truly lived life on their backs for
extended periods of time. Usually they resorted to whoring when circumstances
drove them to it, only to leave it once more when the tide of fortune turned.
They met a good man or got in touch with distant relations. Took jobs working
as hotel maids or cooks in lumber camps.

Sheila genuinely liked Lorella and the
girl was popular with the clientele, but she had a right to make her own
choices. Sheila wouldn't stand in her way.

"I'll be good to her,"
Richelle rushed on.

"I know that," Sheila sighed.

"I can offer her a paying job,
helping me keep house. Morgan said we'd leave here soon for Philadelphia. As
soon as he gets back, I'm going to tell him the three of us are leaving
tomorrow."

They just reached the train station when
a messenger intercepted them.

Sheila's friend at the War Department
had news about Jonas. He was in the Union Army and gave his commanding officer
a formal statement of the events in Carson City. The messenger gave Richelle
the deposition, along with a safe deposit box key. Jonas had left her money in
a Philadelphia bank over on Chestnut Street.

Morgan and the women checked into a
hotel near Hardwick House. The following day Richelle tucked her hair under the
wig Sheila had given her and took Lorella to the bank. The safe deposit box
contained the bulk of the Oregon farm money. The women spent the rest of the
afternoon purchasing a chaste wardrobe for the former prostitute.

Meanwhile, Morgan hid down the street
from the ironworks to observe activities there. For three days he watched
Cameron Nash to learn his routine. Then he waited until Elaine and Cameron had
left the Hardwick mansion for the evening and used Richelle's key to slip
inside. A review of the records in the desk told Morgan what he needed to know.
He dispatched a wire to Richardson and returned to the Philadelphia hotel.

Richelle was stunned by what he'd discovered.
"Cameron's not only selling arms to the South, but cheating the Union
while he does it? And Elaine's involved, too?" Morgan nodded. "So
Elaine will be arrested, as well."

"That's a distinct
possibility." 

"No, Morgan, I can't agree to that.
I can't be responsible for putting my stepmother behind bars."

"I wouldn't give a tinker's damn
about her if I were you," he replied harshly. "Sara should be enough
salve for your conscience."

Richelle had been pacing back and forth.
She stopped and stared at him. "What's Sara got to do with any of
this?"

Morgan met her questioning gaze with a
powerful sense of regret. Richelle had to understand what she was up against,
make informed choices. Yet he knew he was about to hurt her. "From what
you've told me, Cletus usually came home to you, even when he was dead drunk.
He knew you were about to give birth. Doesn't it strike you as odd that he'd
choose that precise time to disappear for several days?"

Richelle merely shrugged. "He lost
track of time or was sleeping it out of his bloodstream somewhere."

"Richelle,
think
. Women and
their babes both may die in childbirth. You told me there was no medical help
available. Cletus and Cameron would have known that." 

"Men make mistakes when they're
drunk, like when you lost your signet. Cletus wasn't—" She halted, gaping.
"You want me to believe they wanted me dead. Sara, too? Even the Nash
brothers wouldn't be that vicious."

"I want you to see that it's
possible. Quite plausible. Both had a vested interest in making certain that Jeremiah
Hardwick died leaving no blood heirs to his fortune. If you and Sara had both perished,
Elaine would have everything now. Elaine and her lover."

"No, Morgan. No!" But even as
she outwardly denied it, Richelle admitted it was probably true. Hadn't Cameron
killed a man with what he'd jokingly called 'creative bookkeeping'? Murdered a
stranger, and tried to hang her for it? She turned away from Morgan and
silently wept.

The next morning she awakened early. She
was dressed and ready to talk when Morgan first opened his eyes. "I've
asked myself a dozen times what I ever did to deserve the Nash curse. Cameron's
taken everything that mattered from me. And Elaine helped him."

"I'm afraid so."

"They took things I can never
replace: years of my life, my child, maybe even my father. Cameron and his
damned poisons could have killed Papa."

"Even if that's true, I doubt we
could prove it."

"I don't care. I'm going to stop
them, Morgan. They're not taking my father's house. Cameron's not going to stay
under that roof. I won't let him win."

Morgan nodded, his face a hard mask of
resolve as he began lathering his face to shave. "I've already got things
in motion. I'll handle him."

"Oh, it's you again." There
was no welcome in Elaine Hardwick's voice as she opened the Hardwick House
front door to find Morgan on the porch. Richelle stepped from behind him.
Elaine snorted, "I see you located my stepdaughter. Resourceful fellow,
I'll give you that."

Morgan swung the door all the way open
and escorted Richelle inside. He glanced around to be certain there was no sign
of Cameron. He'd watched the house and knew this was the cook's day off. Elaine
was home alone.

"We've come to discuss my father's
estate," Richelle announced. "I believe you've already met my
husband."

Elaine made no move to sit in the
drawing room. She glanced from Richelle to the man beside her. "He's not
your husband. He'd only just met you. What are you trying to pull,
Richelle?"

Morgan answered for her. "We're
married. Twice, actually. By a Justice of the Peace in Washington, as well as
the ship's captain en route to New York. Richelle was my wife before she ever
returned here. I had business that detained me in New York, so I sent her ahead
alone. Had I any notion you and that foul heathen would treat her as you did,
I'd never have let her come."

He pinned Elaine with an icy glare.
"You lied about having seen her. That wasn't kind, Widow Hardwick, nor was
it particularly bright. You recognized my ring. You couldn't have, unless you'd
seen its copy on Richelle's finger."

"So you're her husband. So what?
Cameron and I can run down to the courthouse, too, you know."

"More likely the jailhouse,"
Richelle sniggered.

"I'm managing Richelle's business
now," Morgan informed the older woman. "I've investigated Cameron
Nash and the operations at the ironworks. Some highly unorthodox business
practices take place under his management. Unethical and illegal practices,
interestingly enough—with documentation that indicates you're also
involved."

Elaine shook her head. "Cameron
worked for my late husband and still manages the factory. I have nothing to do
with that."

"Then why did I find bank drafts
and receipts bearing your signature? Let's not toy with one another, madam. I
know about the sales to the Confederate Army. I've also learned that Cameron's
got heavy gaming debts. Several of them guaranteed by a life insurance policy
on you."

Elaine scoffed, "There's no life
insurance."

"I assure you, there is.
Distasteful concept, isn't it?" Morgan sneered. "Finding his only
interest in you is financial. But he's what, sixteen, seventeen years your
junior? Young enough to be your son. He can easily find another lover. Several,
in fact."

"Stop this. I don't have to listen
to your lies."

"Remember when you had Jeremiah
believing you attended ladies club meetings? You and Cameron met in a hotel
across town during those afternoons. Did you realize Cameron was also seeing a
maid employed there? She got pregnant and was forced to resign. She and
Cameron's bastard are living with relatives in Delaware now." 

"Fascinating," Elaine snapped.
"Doesn't Richelle realize your interest in her is just the same? All about
money."

Richelle narrowed her eyes at the older
woman. "Morgan didn't know who I was before coming to this house. He
married me believing I was a poor frontier widow."

Elaine picked at a fold of her black
skirt. "You said this was about Jeremiah's estate."

Morgan dug in his coat pocket and
removed a bulky envelope. "Here's two thousand dollars. Enough to buy you
a fresh start. We're offering you a chance to get out unscathed. Against the
whole of Jeremiah's estate."

Elaine looked wary. "If you can
prove I'm involved in something illicit, why help me?"

"Richelle doesn't want to see you
go to jail. You can go straight to the devil for all I care." He opened
the envelope and withdrew a folded document. "This is a release of your
share of Jeremiah's estate. Sign it and pack your things, or your next home
will feature bars on the doors. I wouldn't take too long thinking it over.
Government agents are due with a search warrant this very day. Sign this, and
I'll destroy the documents implicating you before they arrive."

"I can take your word on that, of
course."

He cocked his head at the older woman.
"What choice have you?"

Elaine got a pen from the study and
scrawled her signature on the form. Then she hurried upstairs. Richelle
followed to watch her pack. Elaine flung open her wardrobe, gathering day
dresses along with satin and taffeta evening gowns. She gave her stepdaughter a
cold glare and went about the task of emptying her bureau drawers into a small
valise. "I always planned to pack like this one day. Rehearsed my steps
and the speech I'd give Cameron after I sold the place. No need for that speech
now."

She tossed a small jewelry box at
Richelle. "You can have this. Your mother was the one fond of useless
trinkets."

"My mother was the one fond of my
father."

"You've got your nerve, talking to
me like that, and having your Englishman toss me out like an old shoe! When I
first came to this house, you were wearing yesterday's rags and digging in the
flowerbeds. Your mother and her crackpot relations had your mind addled like
theirs. You spent summers in a whorehouse!"

"I spent the last week there,
too."

"Your father didn't have a clue as
to the proper upbringing for a young girl. You'd be whoring there right now
instead of married to that arrogant son-of-a-bitch downstairs if I hadn't made
something of you."

Richelle took a step forward.
"Don't you call Morgan names, Elaine. He's the only thing standing between
you and a long stint in federal prison. One word from me and he'll give those
government agents the evidence against you."

Elaine slammed the lid of her trunk,
tsking. "When I think of the years I gave you."

"Let's both think about them. You
keep talking about everything you gave me and my father. That's a joke. You
pushed me off on Cletus and did whatever Cameron told you while you waited for
my father to die." Richelle couldn't hide the total disgust in her voice
and couldn't stop herself from taking at least some measure of revenge.

"Cameron mentioned our 'old times'.
The baby I miscarried was his. If that child had lived, Cameron probably would
have forced me to marry him after Cletus died. Then he would have been both
husband and father to Jeremiah's kin—with absolutely no use for you."

Elaine's jaw went slack before she
recovered what remained of her false dignity. "I curse the day I ever met
you and your father."

"Not half as much as I do."

* * *

As agreed, Richelle left the house after
Elaine's departure and returned to the hotel. Morgan poured himself a tall
sherry and set to work. By the time Richardson and his men arrived, Morgan was
lounging in the drawing room beside a low fire. "It's springtime,"
one of the agents remarked. "Little warm for a fire."

"You're right, of course, but I'm
an Englishman. We like our hearth warming the house even in summer. Old habits,
as they say. You'll be pleased at what I've gathered for you. Have a
look." Richardson pored over the contracts and invoices.

"You're right, Tremayne. This is
bad. You're sure you can get him to tell you about this business?"

Morgan nodded. "That natural
braggart? I'm sure."

Richardson motioned to his agents. The
documents were all returned to the study as the men took up hiding places in
the dining room and kitchen. They would be able to overhear what was said in
the drawing room without being seen. Morgan appeared to be alone when the front
door opened and Cameron walked into the foyer and shouted for Elaine.