22. Chapter 22
"Father, I can explain." Zane straightened as he turned to face his sire. His throat tightened like it used to when he'd been caught doing something naughty as a boy.
His father's scowl darkened as he strode into the office and closed the door behind him.
"Explain what, Zane? Your betrayal of this family?
" He crossed to the desk, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
"I expected Octavia to try something, either on her own or with her little Irish protégée's help.
" He tossed a disdainful glare in Muriel's direction.
"But I never considered my own flesh and blood would turn on me. "
"You don't understand." Zane positioned himself in front of Muriel as he edged around the side of the desk to face his father. "Mrs. Underhill threatened to destroy Muriel's family."
"Of course she did. She's an unscrupulous blackmailer."
One with access to a secret his father apparently deemed damaging enough that he'd not been content to let Mother make the monthly payments. He'd stolen the journal to hide whatever incriminating evidence existed.
"Please." Zane extended his hand. "Give us the journal. If we return it, Muriel's family will be safe. That's what is most important."
Father's brows arched. "The well-being of her family is most important?
What about your family?" He scrunched the journal into a cylindrical shape in his fist as he scoffed.
"Wake up, son. She's using you. Batting her lashes and drawing you into her snare with this damsel-in-distress act.
She's been working with that Underhill woman the entire time.
Lying to you for weeks. Gaining your trust so she can manipulate you into retrieving this journal.
" He waved the curled edges of the slim leather notebook under Zane's nose.
"The whole sob story about her family is probably a lie, too.
Use your head, boy." He smacked the rolled-up journal against the side of Zane's skull. "Don't fall for her wiles."
Zane's jaw clenched. Was insulting his intelligence not enough? Did he have to swat him as if he were a disobedient puppy?
"Why'd you steal it?" Zane nodded toward the journal, his gaze challenging his father.
He'd not be baited. He knew Muriel's heart.
Knew she could be trusted. She'd revealed all her secrets.
Unlike the man glowering at him. "What secret did you so fear getting out that you committed theft to protect it? "
His father leaned backward and sputtered. "It wasn't theft. It was a renegotiation. One I did to protect you. You and your mother."
"From what?" Zane pressed. "From what might happen if the truth came out about your business practices?
Mother told me about the secret. About how it would ruin you.
" She'd given him no specifics, but he'd imagined several possible scenarios.
Manipulating the market to ensure greater profit.
Falsification of records. Forged receipts.
Dishonest weighing of cotton shipments. A broker in a position of power could engage in any or all of those practices with few repercussions.
Unless someone produced evidence of his guilt.
"Sounds to me like you were protecting yourself. "
"Easy to sit in judgment when the chair's cushioned and comfortable.
" Father raised a single brow, his scorn palpable.
"Who do you think gave you this comfortable life?
" He thumped his chest with the journal.
"I did. Your education, your exposure to the architecture of Europe, even your apprenticeship with Nicholas Clayton—none of it would have happened without my provision.
Black and white might work for your ink drawings, but the business world operates in shades of gray.
Right and wrong is a matter of perspective. "
Zane shook his head. "Calling wrong right doesn't make it so."
Though learning of past wrongs tainted the right he'd enjoyed.
He'd profited from his father's dishonesty.
The house he lived in, the schools he attended, the connections that led to his apprenticeship.
All fruit from a rotted tree. Zane prayed the Lord would redeem his ill-gotten gains and use them for good.
He'd have to be cut away and grafted into a new tree, though. One with godly roots.
Muriel's hand slipped around Zane's arm, and a bit of sunshine returned to banish the gloom brought on by his father's cold-heartedness.
"Please, Mr. Erickson," she said. "I need that journal. If I don't return it to Mrs. Underhill, she's gonna hurt me da and me sister. Ye can remove the pages pertainin' to yer own situation. I have no desire to see anyone in yer family suffer, either."
Father grunted. "How generous of you. But what about the other families? Do you wish to see them suffer?" He looked back to Zane. "The Trimbles are in here. Did you know that? Is the blackmail of Max's parents acceptable to you?"
"Of course not." Now Zane was the one sputtering.
Max? He'd mentioned something about his mother seeking a matchmaker for him, but Zane had failed to put two and two together.
"Where's your black and white morality now? Is aiding an extortionist acceptable if it helps one person and hurts dozens of others?"
"It's not the same." It wasn't, was it? "Those people surrendered their secrets willingly, knowing the consequences. Muriel's family did nothing to earn Mrs. Underhill's retribution."
Father smiled, and Zane's stomach soured.
"Your little lady friend there made an agreement with Mrs. Underhill, though, didn't she? In order to get her hooks into you. So she's as guilty as anyone else in this book. Why help her and not the others?"
No answer jumped to Zane's mind.
His father's smile grew. "Gray areas. Maybe you're more like me than either of us thought."
Muriel moved out from behind Zane. "The agreement I made with Mrs. Underhill only entailed her revealin' me true background and shamin' meself if I failed to return her journal.
It had nothin' to do with framin' me da or me sister's husband for crimes they didn't commit.
That's what be different, Mr. Erickson. She changed the deal and is threatenin' folks with no connection to her at all.
If the consequences would only fall on me, I'd take them as me due.
But it's not right for me da and brother-in-law to pay a price they ne'er agreed to. "
Father clicked his tongue as he wagged his head.
"So na?ve. You didn't really expect to swim with a shark and not get bitten, did you?
At least I had a plan. First, I ensured all evidence of our family secrets were burned to ash, then I hedged my bets by rigging the game.
A little financial inducement bought the cooperation of her butler and ensured the journal ended up in my hands.
Finally, I gave Mrs. Underhill a taste of her own medicine.
Find my son a suitable bride or I'd expose her schemes and release her clients from their financial responsibilities.
And since you are completely unsuitable," he said with a disdainful glance at Muriel that made Zane grind his molars, "it seems it's time to hold up my end of the bargain.
I think the Galveston Daily News will find this little book quite interesting, don't you?
They might even pay a tidy fee to purchase it from me. "
"So all that talk about protecting the secrets of the people in that book was just a . . . a ruse? You plan to sell them?" Unbelievable! He'd known his father could be a ruthless businessman, but had his conscience really become so hardened that he would choose profit over human decency?
He smiled. Actually smiled. As if he were proud of himself.
"Anonymously, of course. I'll broker the deal through a third party.
No need for anyone to learn how the journal came to be discovered.
" The smile flattened and his eyes narrowed.
"That woman never should have involved herself in my affairs. "
Zane fell back a step, nausea stirring his stomach. "You're as much a villain as she is," he murmured.
Father shrugged, making no effort to deny the charge.
The horrifying truth brought new clarity to Zane's mind.
He'd never take a cent from his father again.
He'd move out of this house at once, live off his apprentice salary.
It would mean forgoing the finer things, but he'd never cared much for fancy clothes or expensive furnishings anyway.
He did like having a cook, but maybe Muriel would take pity on him and invite him to supper a few times a week. If she still allowed him to court her.
"There's no reason for the coming scandal to touch you, son." Father waved dismissively at Muriel. "Let her sort her own problems. She's lied and manipulated you from the beginning. You owe her nothing."
"I owe her my life. Or did you forget where and how this relationship began?
She pulled me from the Gulf and manipulated my lungs into breathing again.
" Zane trudged around the desk and put his face an inch from his father's.
"From the beginning, Muriel has revealed herself to be a caring and courageous woman.
Her only misstep came in heeding the advice of a sea snake.
I'll not make the same mistake by heeding yours.
Now give me that journal, and let us be done with this. "
Zane clasped the edge of the leather cover, but his father jerked it away and backed toward the door. He pointed the rolled-up notebook at Zane like a wagging finger.
"You marry that girl, and you're done with this family. I'll cut you off. You'll not see a penny of my money."
Was the man so blind, he thought money was their only connection? A pang hit Zane's heart. Maybe it was.
"Now that I know how you make your money," Zane said, "I'm going to cut myself off. I'll live on what I make working for Mr. Clayton."
"Fool!" Father spat. "You think she'll have you without my money? That's all a woman like her cares about."
"Ye're wrong." Muriel came to Zane's side and slid her hand around his arm. Zane instantly felt a foot taller. "I never wanted Zane fer his money. I only ever wanted him. Ye're the fool if ye cut him out of yer life. He's yer son. There's no greater treasure than family."
"Ha! Even now she's scheming. Hoping I'll change my mind. Well, I won't. Stick with him, sweetheart, and you'll end up with nothing."
"Nay." Her fingers tightened on Zane's arm, and he turned to see her eyes upon him, their hazel depths glowing with love. "I'll end up with everything."
"Not everything!" Father waved the journal then yanked open the door.
Zane lurched forward, intending to chase his father down, but Muriel held tight to his arm. "Let him go. He'll not be giving it up."
He glanced back at her. "But what about your family?"
Her shoulders slumped. "I'll plead fer mercy, I suppose, though I doubt she'll give any. 'Tis in God's hands now. I pray his mercy outweighs Mrs. Underhill's ruthlessness."
Zane cupped her cheek. "I'm sorry, Muriel. Father . . . he . . ."
What excuse could he give? None existed. His father had proven to be selfish, pitiless, and corrupted by greed. Zane's hand fell from her face, and he looked away, too shamed to meet her gaze.
Muriel took his face in hand and brought his chin around. "I'm the one who's sorry, Zane. Sorry to come between yer father and yerself. For the wounds he inflicted upon ye. I pray he sees the truth before it's too late. That his relationship with ye can be mended."
He leaned into her touch, thankful to have her by his side. To have her affection. Her support. Perhaps even her love.
"I'll pray for that, too. But I meant what I said. I'll be leaving his house. This week, if I can find a place to live."
She smiled. "Finally, I've got connections that can be of use to ye. We'll find ye a place. Don't ye fret."
His heart rate kicked up a level. "Would you . . . help me pick it out? After all, I'm . . . ah . . . hoping it will eventually be your home, too."
Pink flushed her cheeks, but her smile widened. "Zane Erickson. That wouldn't be a proposal, now, would it?"
Now he was the one with overheated cheeks.
"Let's . . . ah . . . call it a declaration of intent.
I'll need time to get my affairs in order and have a conversation with your father before I can make it official.
But I love you, Muriel, and I want you to be part of my world. Wherever that world might be."
Her thumb stroked the edge of his jaw, and the shivers it produced drove his thoughts straight to her lips.
"Those're the sweetest words I've e'er heard." Her whispery voice set him ablaze. "And I declare me own intent . . . I intend to be yer wife, Zane Erickson. To love ye all my livelong days and let nothin' but death separate us."
As if she'd just said the vow before a preacher, Zane drew her against his chest, more than ready to kiss his future bride.
But as he lowered his mouth toward hers, the sound of running footsteps in the hall restored his sanity.
He lifted his head and backed away, regretfully losing the connection of her hand on his face as his arm uncoiled from her waist.
Vanessa, Mrs. Underhill's intrusive maid, ducked her head into the office. After spying them, she ducked her entire self inside and closed the door behind her.
"Did you get the journal?" The young woman was out of breath and wielding none of the condescending confidence that usually exuded from her countenance.
Muriel shook her head. "Nay. Zane's father has it still. He's made it clear he'll not be givin' it up. I'll find Mrs. Underhill and tell her."
"No!" Vanessa ran forward and grabbed Muriel's arm. "You can't. You have to give her the journal. Tonight."
"But I don't have it."
"Then pretend you do." The maid waved her hand in a jerky fashion. "Use the . . . the replacement journal."
Zane frowned as he reached into his coat pocket and fingered the leather of the blank notebook he carried. "What good will that do? The moment Muriel hands it over, Mrs. Underhill will open it and see that it's a fake. A stunt like that will only earn her ire."
"You don't understand." She didn't spare Zane more than a glance. Instead, she took hold of Muriel's other arm and gave her a little shake. "She'll probably ruin me for telling you, but I got brothers of my own, and I'll not be able to live with myself if something happens to him."
The color leaked from Muriel's face. "Happens to who, Vanessa?"
"Your nephew. Octavia's got him stashed on a boat anchored offshore about a half-mile west of the Beach Hotel. If you don't hand over the journal, she'll signal the smuggler she hired, and the boy will suffer an accident at sea."
Muriel reached for the desk behind her, her agonized gaze piercing Zane's heart. "God preserve us. She's got Fletcher."