Love on a Dime (24 page)

Should he tell George what he ’d learned? George deserved to know, and Irene deserved to be exposed as a fortune hunter and a can-can dancer. Yet, his friend still loved the woman. Jack sighed. Did he have a heart cold enough to disillusion George and disrupt his marriage? No one appreciated the bearer of bad news, even if it came from a friend with good intentions. He just couldn’t tattle to George no matter how he might be tempted.

Albert continued. “Miss Frampton lived with Kirby for nearly a year before she met Mr. Westbrook. She was visiting a friend in Stockton when they were introduced at a soiree. Within two months George Westbrook and the young woman were married and on their way back East. The wags in San Francisco say Mr. Kirby was hopping mad for a while, but he eventually cooled off.”

“I always suspected she had a secret,” Jack muttered, angry that he ’d been right.

Albert chewed his lower lip. “I’m afraid there ’s more.”

Hayes’s frown sent a spasm of apprehension through Jack.

“Go on.” Jack leaned into the hard back of his chair and braced himself for the worst.

“When I looked into Mrs. Westbrook’s background I discovered a close connection to a man named Hiram Wilson. Yesterday afternoon I received more information about them from San Francisco.” Albert handed Jack a telegram.

Jack scanned it and slumped down in the chair. “Oh my. This is a most shocking revelation.”

TWENTY-FOUR

R
ight after luncheon, Lilly joined the rest of the ladies in the drawing room for a half an hour of needlework before they paid their afternoon calls. Seated beside Miranda on the settee, Lilly began a new counted cross-stitch pattern.

“My goodness, listen to this.” Irene pointed to an item in
Talk of the Town
.

Lilly’s heart knocked against her rib cage as it did whenever the scandal sheet appeared. She avoided it but wondered if she were the only one in Newport immune to its appeal. For a moment she considered leaving the drawing room to the others, but curiosity and fear nailed her to the stiff sofa.

Irene glanced up at her captivated audience with a gleeful smile.

“News from the book publishing industry—Mr. Davis Sterling of Atwater Publishers has confided to several colleagues that he is currently seeking to purchase dime novels from the best-selling and beloved authoress Miss Fannie Cole, who is currently summering incognito in Newport. Much to his chagrin, he is unable to contact her since her true name and whereabouts remain a mystery
.

“But in the next edition of
Talk of the Town,
we hope to announce Miss Cole’s true identity within these pages. We so hope this revelation will delight her readers
.

“If Miss Cole has the good sense to peruse
Talk of the Town
, she may learn of Mr. Sterling’s splendid offer and call upon this old and highly respected publisher at her earliest convenience. We shall be fascinated to hear what Mrs. Elna Price has to say about this development
.”

Lilly gripped the carved arm of the settee and pressed her fingers into the white and gold padding. Miranda glanced at her, her lips pursed. Lilly lowered her gaze, afraid she might reveal her apprehension to anyone with sharp eyes.

“How unfortunate.” Mama shook her head. “Poor Mr. Grail. I do hope his business won’t suffer because of Miss Cole’s decisions.”

Arching her brows, Irene flashed a malicious grin. “Why shouldn’t Fannie Cole be paid handsomely for her books? It’s business, after all.”

Mama’s hand thumped against her chest. “But what about her loyalty to Jackson? Jones and Jarman made her famous, I understand. Don’t they deserve some consideration?”

Irene shrugged. “Not necessarily. Now I know you’re fond of him because he ’s a friend of George ’s, but Miss Cole must put her own interests first. That’s only natural. Jackson Grail can fend for himself.”

Lilly’s heartbeat roared in her ears. She could scarcely hear the conversation. To leave Jones and Jarman would smack of the worst kind of treachery. She didn’t need the additional funds personally, but they would help ease the financial difficulties of the Settlement House.

Atwater Publishers might provide anonymity, allow her to continue her dime novel career, and end her conflict with Jack once and for all. It was oh so tempting to feel the relief that would bring. It might solve all her problems—except it would end their fledgling relationship.

And she had to remember Jones and Jarman had always treated her with the utmost fairness. They’d bought her books and paid generously. She must consider that.

She felt a headache coming on again. Lilly closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as the voices of indecision droned on.

Mama sighed. “Well at least no one we know would ever dream of writing dime novels.”

Irene beamed a smile. “But someone in our midst has done just that. Colonel MacIntyre will reveal exactly who she is in the very near future.”

Lilly rose from the settee. “Will you all excuse me? I’d like to—find a book to read.”

Irene frowned. “You read too much, Lilly.”

Lilly ignored the remark and hurried to the deserted office before going to the library. Dropping onto the hard wooden chair, she stared at the telephone as if it offered a lifeline. Atwater Publishers might be willing to keep her name secret and pay a large advance. Then her immediate problems would vanish. She could probably pay Colonel MacIntyre and have enough to donate more to the Settlement House. . . .

With a shaky hand she picked up the telephone receiver and asked the operator to connect her with Atwater Publishers in New York City. Her heart thudded as she waited for the publisher’s operator, and then the publisher himself, to come on the line. When he greeted her, she quickly explained her position.

“I am so delighted you chose to inquire about my proposal, Miss Cole. Now I’d like to offer you very generous terms.”

His “very generous terms” sounded so advantageous she scarcely believed the numbers he quoted. He agreed to pay an enormous sum for a three-book contract and even change her pen name if she so desired. He wouldn’t expect her to promote herself or her dime novels; she could remain anonymous. Tempted to agree without further thought, she took a deep breath and tried to steady her racing heartbeat.

“I’ll consider your offer carefully and give you my decision within a few days. Thank you so much for your interest in me, Mr. Sterling.”

“And thank you for your interest in Atwater Publishers. Good day, Miss Cole.”

After she hung up the telephone, she crumpled into the desk chair. Could she turn against Jack for the promise of a new beginning? Mr. Sterling offered everything she wanted except the most important thing: Jack.

Lord, please show me what I ought to do—soon because time is running out
.

JACK TOOK A cab to Jones and Jarman Publishing. A secretary ushered him into Lewis Jarman’s office. Jack was relieved yet again that he ’d asked Mr. Jarman to continue working because of his invaluable publishing experience.

They shook hands before settling into chairs set by an unlit fireplace. A high forehead touched Lewis’s badly receding hairline, now wrinkled with worry. “Shall we have a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please. Is something wrong?” The hair on the back of Jack’s neck prickled.

“I’m afraid so.”

The day was unusually humid and Jack’s starched shirt immediately wilted.

“What’s the problem?” Jack wiped his brow with a crumpled linen handkerchief.

Lewis cleared his throat. “During the last quarter, sales of the dime novels have decreased. I attribute the decline partially to poor-quality writing. Mr. Reynolds’s and Miss Cole ’s books made the majority of the company’s annual profit. But not enough to offset our losses.”

Losses. It was much worse than Jack anticipated. A short time ago, he ’d hoped to surpass Atwater Publishers—but it wouldn’t happen without several star writers.

“How is Mr. Reynolds doing? Have you been in contact with his family?”

Lewis gave a solemn nod. “Yes, his wife telegraphed me not an hour ago. I’m afraid he passed away last night.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. What a terrible loss for his family.” And of course, for Jones and Jarman as well, though insignificant compared to the sorrow of his loved ones.

“More than ever, we need Miss Cole to turn out additional books in less time. Have you had any success finding her?” Lewis asked.

Jack grimaced as the secretary delivered cups of coffee, cream, and sugar and then quietly departed. “I found our Fannie. She ’s Miss Lillian Westbrook, daughter of Thomas Westbrook, the banker and the owner of some very nice New York real estate.”

Lewis shook his head, obviously flabbergasted. “My goodness. I never suspected.”

“Neither did I, at least not at first. She certainly didn’t want to admit her identity. I promised to let Fannie remain anonymous, but without her or Mr. Reynolds, I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Lewis groaned. “This is a bad turn of events, indeed.” He bit his lip. “I’m afraid I have some more bad news.”

“Tell me. Things can’t get much worse.”

“I dare say they can.”

Jack blew out a groan. “I’m listening.”

Lewis ran his hand over his shiny bald head. “My wife showed me the latest issue of
Talk of the Town
. It seems Mr. Davis Sterling wants to add Miss Cole to his stable of authors by paying her substantially more than she ’s earning with us.”

“How does MacIntyre know what Davis Sterling is up to?”

“His spies, no doubt. They’re everywhere in society. I do believe Atwater Publishers is trying to steal her away from us. Sterling intended to purchase Jones and Jarman, principally to gain Miss Cole ’s titles, past, present, and future. The question is: will she switch?”

Jack’s lip twitched as he nodded. “I don’t believe she ’d want to, but she may find their offer difficult to pass up.”
Especially if she sees the cash she needs to pay off MacIntyre
.

He hoped Lilly would think through the repercussions of accepting Sterling’s offer. Elna Price was a publicity hound, intolerant of any competition. Jack remembered how she’d once feuded with a popular writer who tried to steal her limelight. He ’d heard the other woman changed her pen name and switched to another publisher rather than compete with the likes of Elna. He wondered how this would play out if Lilly accepted the offer. She might not understand how formidable Elna could be, but if he warned her, she would probably think he was self-serving.

“I need to speak to Miss Cole myself—or should I say Miss Westbrook.” Jack grimaced. “If she doesn’t remain loyal to Jones and Jarman, we’ve got a terrible problem.”

MR. AMES SCUFFED into the room, bent over like a willow branch in the wind. “There ’s a telephone call for you, Miss Westbrook.”

Lilly frowned. Few people contacted her except in person or by post. “Thank you.” If it were Colonel MacIntyre, she ’d hang up immediately. He wouldn’t have the temerity to telephone her, would he? Of course, a man adept at blackmail had no scruples.

“I’ll return directly,” Lilly promised Miranda as she exited the room.

Closing the office door behind her, Lilly picked up the receiver as if it were a burning coal. “Good afternoon. This is Miss Westbrook speaking.” Her voice squeaked like a timid child reciting for her teacher.

“Good afternoon, Lilly. It’s Jack. You sound frightened. Is something wrong?”

Her laugh rang hollow. “Of course not. Why would you think such nonsense? How was your trip to the city?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she pushed ahead. “I do hope the weather was pleasant. It’s lovely here today except for the oppressive heat. On second thought, it’s quite possible it might rain later.”

“Lilly, please stop babbling and tell me what’s upsetting you. It’s MacIntyre, isn’t it? He contacted you again. Tell me the truth.”

She didn’t have the energy to keep up her charade, but she couldn’t involve Jack in her troubles. This was her dilemma, not his, and she needed to solve it on her own. He’d only exacerbate the problem. “Please don’t worry about that horrid man.”

“I don’t worry about him, Lilly. I worry about you. You’re my only concern.”

Her heart flared with warmth. “I know. Thank you.” She needed him now, but she couldn’t let on or he ’d take the next steamship back to Newport, her white knight eager to do battle. Sorrow and regret bubbled up and blocked her throat.

“Lilly, I imagine you’ve read that Davis Sterling wants you to write for him.” Jack hesitated. “Have you given it any thought?”

“To be honest with you, I have. But I haven’t decided yet.”

He paused for several seconds. “I see. Well, I hope you’ll tell me as soon as you make up your mind.”

She heard disappointment in his voice and she regretted her forthright answer. “Yes. Of course, I will. Jack, Jones and Jarman has been so good to me over the last few years and I won’t forget that for a moment. So please don’t fret about my decision.”

“I finished my most pressing work here in New York. I have a mind to return to Summerhill immediately—just to ensure MacIntyre stays away from you. Do I still have an invitation to visit?”

She mustered all her enthusiasm. “Of course you do. But maybe now isn’t the best time. We ’re in the middle of—”

“I get your point, Lilly.” He sounded more sad than miffed. “Have a good afternoon.”

To her surprise, he hung up the telephone receiver before she could say anything else.

She leaned back in the chair and drew out a long moan. Why hadn’t she been more tactful, less rude? Yet, he seemed so determined to rush to her rescue, she had to find a way to stop him. She couldn’t allow his kindness to break down the barriers between them.

JACK BOARDED THE steamer for Newport, to convince Lilly that she needed his help. He ’d planned on staying in the city a few days more, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that something was amiss. He’d wager it involved more than which publisher to write for. It had to be the colonel. He ’d deal with MacIntyre himself without involving Lilly. If she knew, she ’d fight his every step. She ’d tell him to mind his own business. But where would she find the money to pay the blackmailer? Surely no one in her family would loan her funds without expecting a reasonable explanation.

Should he offer her the little cash he had, despite his displeasure at caving in to blackmail? He feared he ’d be feeding a lion that would come roaring back. He slapped his palm against the metal railing and leaned forward to let the stiff sea breeze cool his face.

When the Fall River Line vessel finally docked at Newport’s Long Wharf, the sky loomed low and gun-metal gray. Stepping off the boat, he quickly hired a carriage.

All the way to Summerhill he thought of Lilly. He pictured her on the piazza, dressed in one of her frothy silk or chiffon dresses, greeting him with a wave. But he couldn’t expect an open-armed welcome from the woman who often found him aggressive, irritating, and untrustworthy.

The drive from the waterfront was too short and the cab arrived before he felt ready to face her. Had he steel-plated his emotions against her rejection? A bitter laugh escaped his throat. He had no defenses.

When he entered the foyer, he saw her coming down the staircase. “Hello, Lilly.”

She stopped short. “Welcome back.” A tentative smile flickered, then faded.

His grin gave away his pleasure even though he probably was the last person she wished to see. “I thought you might need some assistance. You understand my meaning, I’m sure.”