Played Galahad. Is that what he called the hours he’d spent with Leonore? According to the desolate girl, he had called on her with flowers, had whispered tender words, had squired her on rides through the park, had in every instance shown that he was courting her. In Leonore’s eyes Deegan had done everything except formally ask for her hand. Earlier that day when they had both chanced to visit the same home, Leonore had burst into tears when Wyn was teased about her own relationship with Deegan Galloway. Flinging the accusation that Wyn had set out to steal her fianc#233;, Leonore had run from the room, leaving an embarrassed silence behind her.
“Please, Wyn. Forgive me,” Deegan pleaded softly.
How could a woman forgive unfaithfulness? It was the ultimate insult and Deegan had compounded it by being unfaithful to two women at once.
Surreptitiously Wyn regarded him, her gaze dispassionate. Once she had thought his brown eyes to be beautiful, an almost feminine feature in his otherwise masculine face. But now there was a desperation in them when they met hers. Rather than eliciting tenderness and compassion, the emotion hardened Wyn’s heart. Leonore had looked that way before fleeing earlier that day. Wyn would never forget that moment, or the man who had caused the younger woman such pain and disillusionment.
“I think you’d better go, Deegan,” Wyn said.
Long after he’d collected his hat and stormed out of the house, Wyn continued standing at the front window, staring out unseeing over the city, remembering.
They had met at a ball, introduced by her elder brother. Wyn had thought the men were business associates. She certainly saw Deegan at all the Nob Hill parties. She had begun to look forward to his attendance on her, to his tenderly whispered compliments, to his growingly insistent kisses.
She had been so close to succumbing to Deegan’s wishes. He had wanted her. Her, not her dowry, even if she had flung that accusation at him. Compared to the fortune Leonore Cronin would inherit, the sum settled on herself appeared minuscule. Fool that she was, she had thought he cared for her. His protestations of love had been many, always followed by kisses guaranteed to undermine a maiden’s resolve. As she weakened, Deegan grew bolder until she had begun to crave the stolen minutes, the clandestine caresses, with the passion of an opium eater. Wyn grew flushed at the memory of the time they had spent together, longing for what she would no longer have and embarrassed that she had so forgotten herself in sampling those forbidden delights.
The future of which she had dreamed would no longer become a reality, for with Deegan went her last hope. While her friends had found mates and married, she was still alone, a spinster, on the shelf, overlooked or forgotten when it came to love.
The truth was difficult to admit. She was an acclaimed beauty, an heiress. With those lures to attract a mate, why had she not been able to find a man who drew her?
Even Deegan, handsome and charming as he was, hadn’t managed to do that. She had been tempted…only tempted.
The sun slipped into the western seas unnoticed. The sky grew dusky and lamps came to life in the nearby homes and along the sloping streets. Unseen, a maid came to attend to the gas jets in the hall, only to creep silently away from the parlor rather than disturb Wyn. It was only when the front door swung shut and impatient male footsteps sounded in the entryway that Wyn came out of her reverie.
“What the devil are you doing in the dark?” a man’s voice demanded.
Wyn turned from the window at the first bark of her older brother’s voice. “Oh, hello, Pierce. Back already?”
He tossed aside his hat and fumbled for a match in the pocket of his coal black frock coat. “Already? I stayed at the shipping office an hour later just trying to catch up on various matters. I’ve got a train to catch tomorrow, if you recall.”
The match scraped to life. A moment later the room was filled with the soft glow of light. Pierce adjusted the gas jet on the wall then dropped full length onto the plump cushions of the sofa. “Don’t you know it’s damn cold in here, Wyn?”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”
He glanced at her, a frown of concern drawing his dark brown brows together over his straight patrician nose. “Not coming down with something, are you, Ace?”
Wyn shrugged. “Do you want a fire?”
“Lord, yes. But first, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking.” Wyn gathered her narrow skirts and sank companionably to the floor near him. “Do you still need financing for the new ship?”
Pierce pushed off one shoe then the other. The sound of each falling was hollow against the tongue-and-groove wood flooring. “Let’s just say the bank is anxious. They’d like a payment since we’re running behind schedule on building the Nereid. Are you going to light a fire, or do I have to do it?”
“I’ll do it. Have you got another lucifer?” He fumbled in his pocket again and passed her a match. Wyn leaned forward on her knees to light the fire. It had been laid on the hearth earlier by a maid in anticipation of the damp San Francisco evening. “Just how much does the bank want?”
“More than I feel comfortable discussing,” Pierce admitted. Although he had become titular head of the Shire Shipping Line in the past year, Wyn knew her brother had moments when he doubted his ability to run the family business.
The flame caught the tinder and ate greedily along the underside of a log. Wyn sat back on her heels and leaned one arm along the sofa cushions where her brother lay stretched out. “On my last birthday, you and Pop arranged for me to have some money of my own,” she said.
“Your dowry, Ace. Besides, you’ll need it to reel Galloway in.”
“Mr. Galloway has proven to be a cad,” Wyn said tightly.
Pierce sucked in air between his teeth. “Worse than me, huh?”
“Infinitely worse than you.”
He shook his head sadly. “Damn, and I thought I held the record. I guess you found out about the mouse.”
“Leonore Cronin? Yes, I did. Do you mean to tell me, you knew he was courting her and didn’t tell me?”
Pierce snorted. “La Cronin didn’t have a chance against you, Ace. And so I told anyone willing to give me odds on the outcome.”
Wyn sighed. “If you had a wager on it, I can understand why you didn’t drop a hint. What was my standing in this particular race?”
“Hell, you were the favorite, of Galloway and of the betting books.”
“Thank you for the kind compliment, brother dear,” Wyn murmured, her spirits beginning to return. Having the matter reduced to the level of a sporting event put things in a different perspective, making it appear ridiculous for her to continue railing against fate.
“I’m sorry I lost you your wager.”
Pierce sighed deeply. “You know I’ve always been a rotten gambler. Let’s hope I’m a better businessman.”
Wyn smiled warmly at him. “You are, much to the astonishment of the business community. Tell me truthfully, Pierce. Is the Nereid bankrupting you?”
“Truthfully? Nearly. That’s why I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow to oversee the final construction. It means changing my schedule. I won’t be able to sail on her maiden-voyage as planned. However, a personal appearance on my part now should soothe the bankers. Our Shire cousins are careful administrators in the Eastern office, but they don’t see the Nereid as a necessary expansion of our business.”
“The Shire Line has always carried passengers,” Wyn said. She held her palms toward the fire, suddenly aware of how cool the room had become. “And each year we’ve ordered larger ships to be built.”
“Maybe