A Matter of Marriage (23 page)

The
bellboy’s mouth curved into a smile of absolute pleasure. He laughed, a hideous
sound that jerked her out of her stupor.

Fury
surged through her, giving her more strength than Julia knew she had. She would
not allow Tilden to end her life, separating her forever from Alex and the life
she had dreamed of living since she was a girl.

She
raked her fingernails down both sides of his face, scoring it deeply.

He
shrieked, and the pressure on her throat lessened.

A
trickle of sweet-tasting air entered her lungs. The blackness crowding her mind
receded. She heard the thud of a fist slamming into soft flesh.

Tilden
grunted. His body arched back. His fingers went slack, and she was free.

She
swayed, unable to catch her balance.

“I’ve
got you,” Theo said, his arm coming around her waist.

She
grabbed him in return, steadying herself as Tyler yanked Tilden’s hands behind
his back.

Chalmers
ran up with a length of twine. When he tied Tilden’s wrists with an excess number
of wraps and knots, Julia decided her clerk had earned a little leniency. Once
everything settled down, she would confront him about his betrayal and give him
the choice of shaping up or leaving. Feeling generous, she would do the same
for Jacques.

Tilden
swore, struggling against the bonds and causing himself more pain.

She
looked away from the eight trails of blood that inscribed his face. Injuring
another human being sickened her, but she was not sorry about it. He had forced
her to do what was necessary to save herself.

“Mrs.
MacLean,” Chalmers said, “I telephoned Marshal Landis and sent for the doctor.”

“Thank—”
She cleared her sore throat. “Thank you, Mr. Chalmers,” she said, speaking
softly.

“You’d
best sit down.” Theo gently led her to the red velvet banquette. “You’ll get
your strength back quicker.”

She
gratefully accepted his suggestion and let him lower her to the seat. Muffie
jumped up beside her, laying her little body against her thigh.

Dr.
Dolan arrived moments later, examined her throat, and sent Theo to the kitchen
for a linen towel filled with chipped ice. “You’re lucky, Julia. There’s some
swelling and redness, but no permanent damage. However, you will have bruises
almost as colorful as your husband’s back.”

She
tentatively touched her raw skin. “I can hide them with my high-necked
shirtwaists. No one will see them.”

“Alex
will, once he’s set free,” the doctor said. “He won’t be pleased that you’ve
been hurt.”

“He
can’t see this. Not yet. I have to change. But I must go to him. Last night I
let him down.” She started to get up, glancing toward the front entrance, then
the stairs to her apartment, then the entrance again.

Dr.
Dolan pushed her back down. “Julia, take a breath. You’re flustered. I don’t
want you putting yourself in the same state of hysteria that you did in my
office.”

“I’m
fine.”

“You’re
not fine. A man just tried to kill you with his bare hands. Breathe.”

A
barrage of tremors struck her like aftershocks from an earthquake. She wished
the doctor hadn’t spoken so plainly. She breathed.

“That’s
better. Alex isn’t going anywhere for the moment. Let’s hear what Tilden has to
say for himself. Marshal Landis is coming in now.”

Tom
Landis raced into the lobby, his booted footsteps pounding the floor. His gaze
darted from Tyler holding Tilden captive to her and the doctor.

Tom
came to an abrupt halt before her. “Thank the Lord,” he said, panting. “From
the way Chalmers sounded on the telephone, I was afraid you might be … well,
never mind what I thought. I’m very glad you’re all right, Julia.”

“So
am I.” She had too much to do before dying, namely, getting her husband out of
jail and telling him how much she loved him.

Tyler
steered his captive closer, but not
close enough that the bellboy could reach her in any way.

Calmer,
she smiled at Tyler, obliged to him for his well-placed punch.

Marshal
Landis grimaced as he took in Tilden’s face. “Looks like he’s wearing Indian
war paint. Are you responsible for that, Julia?”

She
bit her lip. “Yes. I had no choice.”

Tilden
shot her a venomous look, but she refused to let him frighten her, or at least
see that he frightened her.

Muffie
growled at him.

Tom
chuckled. “Looks to me like he deserved it. Nice going.”

She
did not thank him for the compliment.

“Marshal,”
the doctor said, “after I’ve seen to Julia, I’ll clean and dress his facial
wounds.”

“Good,”
Tom said. “Not that he deserves your ministration.”

Theo
arrived with the ice-filled linen towel, and Dr. Dolan arranged it around her
neck. “Hold that in place,” he told her.

She
did as ordered. The cold felt wonderful against her sore flesh.

“Now
tell me what happened here,” the marshal said. “How did it start?”

Tyler
explained how she had been asking Theo to watch after Muffie. “The dog attacked
Tilden.”

Julia
said in a soft voice, “Muffie seemed intent on something in his pocket, but
Tilden refused to show it to us. Suddenly his hands were around my throat.”

The
marshal patted the bellboy’s pockets, slid his fingers into one, and brought
out a glittering diamond bracelet. “Very pretty.”

Muffie
stood up and yipped.

“Why,
that’s Mrs. Hensley’s bracelet,” Julia said. “She wore it all the time. It proves
Tilden was the one who killed her, not Alex.”

Tom
rubbed at his mustache with one hand while admiring the bracelet in the other.
He didn’t seem ready to concede Alex’s innocence quite yet. Julia considered
strangling some sense into him, then chose a more sensible course. She fastened
her gaze on the bellboy. If he confessed, there would be no question.

“Did
you kill her for the bracelet, Tilden?”

“Hell
no!” he exploded. “You stupid woman, that was a bonus.”

She
ignored his insult as Tom deposited the bracelet into his uniform’s shirt
pocket and took out a small notepad and pencil. “Then why?”

His
lips curled back into a snarl. “To make you suffer and get MacLean out of the
way. I saw him arguing with the old hag, and it was perfect. He’d botched my
plans once too often. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” He struggled
against Tyler’s hold, bending toward her. “You needed to die. You should’ve died
when I threw the flowerpot.” Hatred poured out of him.

She
leaned back, but there was no getting away from it. Muffie whined, and Julia
stroked her little body, trying to soothe them both.

Tyler
gave the bellboy a shake. “What did she
ever do to you?”

“Not
just her. Her father, too. Lloyd Fairbanks.”

Tyler
exchanged a puzzled look with her.

“What
are you talking about?” Tyler demanded.

Tilden
spat onto the floor. “He stole my woman!”

“Tilden,
you’re not making sense,” she said. “What woman?”

“Harriet!
Harriet Lincoln! She was mine. He had no right to take her from me.”

She
stared at him in disbelief. “Harriet? How could you have possibly known my
stepmother? She died more than a year before you started working here.”

“She
was my girl back in New York. She knew I loved her. I showed her how much after
I caught her talking to another man.” Tilden smiled like a feral cat. “That
fellow had to find himself some new teeth.” His smile turned brittle. “But I
landed in prison for it.”

Julia
now understood the reason for Harriet’s warnings about being too friendly with
a man. “She came all the way to San Diego to get away from you, didn’t she?”

He
twisted his shoulders, rocking his bound hands from side to side. “We loved
each other. I had to have her back. But after I got out, I couldn’t find her. I
spent months searching.” He growled out his words. “Her trail finally led me
here, but by then she was dead and I could never have her back.” He spat at her.

Julia
threw up her arm. His phlegm fell short, splattering at her feet.

Tyler
yanked him back a step. “Stop it.”

Tilden’s
malevolent gaze never wavered from her face. “You and your father stole her
from me, and you both had to pay. Once he hired me, I had access to the both of
you. I patiently planned your deaths, laughing the whole time. No one suspected
a thing. I could do away with you whenever I wanted, even making it look like
an accident. Nobody’d ever be the wiser.”

“But
my father ruined your plans by dying ahead of schedule, didn’t he?”

Tilden
howled with laughter.

She
looked to Tyler, but he shrugged his shoulders, as puzzled as she.

Tom
Landis grabbed the front of the bellboy’s uniform. “What’s so funny?”

Tilden
grinned. “She thinks her father died of natural causes.”

“He
did,” she said, her stomach tightening. “Of a heart attack.”

Tilden
laughed again. “His heart stopped all right. Some poisons cause that, you know.”

She
clapped a hand over her mouth and fell back against the banquette. He had
murdered her father, and she had never once questioned his death. In fact, she
had blamed herself for aggravating him with her desire to help run the hotel. She
should have questioned his death, should have done something.

Tilden’s
continued laughter echoed throughout the Rotunda until Tyler punched him in the
back again, cutting the bellboy’s laughter short.

“That’s
for killing my father before I could meet him,” Tyler said.

Tilden
grimaced and coughed several times.

Julia
couldn’t blame Tyler for his feelings. “Tilden, why did you wait so long after
my father’s death to make your first attempt on my life? Or was there an
attempt before the flowerpot?” Had he tried to poison her, too?

He
smiled. “I did wait. I liked the anticipation. I especially liked imagining all
the scenarios that would lead to your death. In the meantime, I hoped to
witness your downfall. No woman has the right to operate a hotel. I wanted to
witness your embarrassment and humiliation as you brought the Hotel Grand
Victoria to ruin. When it didn’t happen, I knew it was time to take matters
back into my own hands.” He started laughing again.

A
shudder rippled through Julia’s body as she remembered the feel of his hands
around her throat. She longed for Alex and his enfolding arms to wrap her in
his embrace, the one place she felt truly safe, protected from evil.

Alex
lay on his cot, breathing through his mouth to avoid the reeking odors of
unwashed men and dried urine. He supposed he should try to get used to the
smells, but that would mean giving up, and he couldn’t do that. He had too much
to live for, if Julia could forgive him.

Loud,
booted footsteps hammered the iron balcony outside the row of cells. Keys
jangled.

“MacLean!”

He
sat up, his pulse suddenly racing.

A
uniformed guard holding a ring of keys strode into view and stopped in front of
his cell door. “Stand up, turn around, and hands behind your back.”

He
didn’t move. “What’s going on?”

The
guard pinned him with a fierce look. “Shut your mouth and do as you’re told.”

Out
of self-preservation, he followed orders. In Baltimore’s jail, he had seen
firsthand how much some guards enjoyed their position of power.

“That’s
better,” the guard said. Metal clanked against metal as he unlocked and opened
the door, then fitted a pair of handcuffs around Alex’s wrists. “Now turn
around and start walking. Slowly.”

Alex
walked. Slowly. Behind him, the door clanged shut. The guard followed and poked
him in the shoulder, prompting him down the flight of stairs. A slight shove
turned him down a bare hallway.

“In
there.” The man motioned toward an open door with a small window in it.

Alex
hesitated. Was he about to be interrogated? If they expected him to confess,
they had another think coming. He would not admit to a crime he didn’t commit.

The
guard gave him a shove, and Alex stumbled, grimacing, into a simply furnished
room. A scarred wooden table and four equally scarred chairs marked the center
of it. A single gas lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a light that didn’t
even reach the corners of the small room.

“Wait
in here.” The guard locked him in.

Several
minutes later the door opened. The warden stood on its threshold, studied him,
and stepped back out of sight.

Julia
took his place, framed by the doorway.

Alex
wanted to run to her. The urge to throw his arms around her nearly overwhelmed him,
but the shackles biting into his wrists stopped him, giving him time to
remember their last painful moments together. She had not believed in his claim
of innocence. She had not believed in him.

Though
his feet remained rooted to the floor, he swept his gaze over her from top to
bottom, reassuring himself that she was unharmed and he had been worrying
needlessly.

She
wore a gray skirt, matching jacket, and high-necked pink shirtwaist. Her
ash-blond hair was piled stylishly atop her head. Blue eyes shone in the
flawless perfection of her creamy skin. She took a step toward him. Her scent,
orange blossoms in the spring, drifted across the room, cleansing Alex of all
the rank smells that had assailed him since his arrival. She was spring itself,
and her beauty in this dreary place brightened everything around her.

He
could have looked at her indefinitely.

“I’m
sorry it took me so long to get here.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she
took in their surroundings and his striped prison garb.

“I
hope you didn’t come alone.”

“No.
Tyler is waiting for me in the warden’s office.”

“Good.”
He was glad, but it should have been him watching over her. She was his wife,
the woman he loved.

The
warden, a short man whose frock coat strained over his belly, edged around her.
He swung a ring of jingling keys like the one the guard carried.

“I’ll
take off those handcuffs for you, MacLean,” he said. “Just don’t try anything
stupid.”

Alex
wasn’t sure he wanted them off now. Julia was so beautiful, and he felt as if
he hadn’t seen her in weeks instead of hours. He wanted to touch her, hold her,
confess everything to her, and make love to her, but he was still a prisoner
accused of murder.

With
several clicks, the warden removed the handcuffs. “Mrs. MacLean, if you need
anything, a guard will be posted outside the door.”

Alex
heard what the man left unspoken, that if she felt threatened, she need only
scream and help would come running.

“Thank
you, Warden,” she said. “I have nothing to fear from my husband. All I ask is
some privacy with him.”

Alex
felt his heart give a hopeful leap. She wasn’t afraid to be alone with him.

“As
you wish.” The warden retreated and locked the door behind him.

Alex
stayed on the far side of the small room.

Julia
barely glanced at him. She seemed to be studying the ravaged tabletop while
playing with a fold in her skirt. The high, ruffled collar around her neck must
have been scratching her because she readjusted it. “Have they treated you all
right?” she finally asked.

“Well
enough.”

She
took a step closer and looked up. Their eyes locked. “Alex, I owe you an
apology. When you needed me last night, I failed you. Deep down, I knew you
could never have harmed Mrs. Hensley. Despite being caught off guard, I should
have spoken up for you right away.”

His
heart lifted. Maybe there was hope for them, if he could somehow get out of
here. “Thank you, but it’s my fault for keeping secrets. I wanted to forget
about my previous arrest.” He dragged out one of the chairs, scraping the legs
over the concrete floor. “Last night,” he said, “dropping onto the chair and
clasping his hands on the table, “after Alberta recognized me, I knew I
couldn’t keep the truth from you anymore. I was planning to tell you when I got
back to the apartment, but you weren’t there. And by then, Alberta had suffered
the consequences of knowing me. I feel responsible.”

She
joined him at the table, lowering herself onto the chair opposite him. “You’re
not responsible, and you’re not staying here. You’re coming home with me.”

“I
wish that were true, but I know better. Marshal Landis has made up his mind
about my part in Alberta’s death. I didn’t think I could be held for the deaths
of Elizabeth, Danny, and Sarah, the servant girl, either, but I was. For a
while, anyway.”

“How
did that happen?” she asked, again fiddling with the ruffles at her neck.

He
briefly closed his eyes. Sharing with her those terrible weeks after the fire
would bring the pain of it roaring back. But he had to do it, putting it once
and for all behind him.

Unable
to sit still, he jumped up and paced the length of the room’s rough back wall. “You
already know I fell from a tree that ripped open my face. Two days after my
fall, I regained consciousness and found myself locked in a dimly lit jail cell.
The only medical attention I received was from my cellmate. He’d wrapped a
dirty rag around my head to hold my cheek together.”

A
visible shudder moved through her, but she didn’t interrupt.

“My
in-laws used their influence to have me arrested. It was days before the guards
treated me with any kind of decency. My business partner had to bribe his way
in, and when James saw my face”—Alex jabbed his hand toward his scarred cheek—“he
vomited more food than I’d been given to eat in the three days I’d been awake.
Then he demanded a doctor be sent for. By then, though, it was too late to do
anything that would minimize the scar.”

“I’m
sorry,” she said on a shaky breath. “When Dr. Dolan commented about a delay in
treatment, I assumed you’d been out in the country, away from any doctors.”

He
laughed, not a trace of humor in the sound. “No.” He leaned back against the
cold wall, feeling again the anger and despair, frustration and defeat, that
had haunted him since then. “After that, James got me a lawyer, a very good
one, but even he had trouble fighting the pressure my in-laws brought to bear
on the courts. I was kept in that rancid jail for two weeks. They wouldn’t
release me for even a few hours to attend the burial services of my family.”

The
gas lamp flickered above them, casting parts of Julia’s face in shadow, but
revealing tears in her eyes. “I wondered how your in-laws could have kept you
from the services,” she whispered. “I never imagined you were incarcerated.”

“The
Ellingsons were furious when I got off for lack of evidence. I was surprised
they hadn’t manufactured some, but they’d been too busy ruining me instead.
They spread damaging rumors about my architectural work. Claims were made that
I stole my designs from other people’s work, or I designed buildings with
inadequate structural foundations.” He smacked the heel of his hand against the
wall. “With cold calculation, they cast doubt on every one of my projects.”

“What
despicable people!”

At
her outrage, Alex felt the beginnings of a smile. “Over the years, I’ve come up
with some choice descriptions of them myself. Gerald and Amanda Ellingson
smeared my professional reputation and my character the length and breadth of
the Eastern seaboard. Instead of grieving like normal people, they did
everything they could to punish, humiliate, and ruin me. When I was released, I
had nothing.”

“No
money at all?”

“None.
What Elizabeth hadn’t spent before the fire was used to pay the burial
expenses. Ownership of the property had strangely reverted to my in-laws. The
only clothes I had were what I’d been wearing the night of the fire and what my
partner gave me before we severed our connections. It was the only way I could
protect him. He could not afford to be seen with me.”

“So
you left Baltimore,” she said softly, “and took to the road like a drifter.”

“I
was a drifter, but I didn’t leave Baltimore until I’d touched the headstones
standing over my wife and child.”

Alex
blinked hard against the stinging in his eyes. That had been another life. On Coronado Island with Julia, he had forged a new life, but now that was in jeopardy as well.

He
pushed away from the wall and spread his arms wide. “Now it’s happened again.
I’ve been arrested for a crime I didn’t commit, and I may lose you, too.”

“No.
Never.” She came to him, pressing her palms to the rough cotton covering his
chest. “I love you, Alex MacLean, and I always will.”

He
slipped his arms around her narrow waist and planted a kiss on each cheek of
her upturned face. “I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you since the first
moment we met, when you saw my scar and didn’t flinch.” He smiled down at her. “You
brought me back to life when I thought my life was over.”

“Oh,
Alex, I didn’t know how you felt. Growing up with my father, I haven’t had much
experience with love from a man. Now I realize you’ve shown me your love in
countless ways.” Her hands slid up to his shoulders, and her arms wound around
his neck. “Can you forgive me?”

Alex
mourned the family he would never have, the years that he could have spent with
Julia. “There’s nothing to forgive. I brought this on myself. I was wrong to
keep my past from you.”

“Thank
you for saying that.” She stood on tiptoe and tantalized him with a light kiss
on his lips.

He
felt an immediate stirring in his lower body and tried to quash it by pushing her
away. “You should go now. This place is not for you.”

“Nor
is it for you. I tried to tell you before. Mrs. Hensley’s killer—my
assailant—has been arrested.”

He
held her at arm’s length. “What? How? Who?”

“Tilden.
Muffie alerted us to him this morning in the lobby. I believe she must have
smelled Mrs. Hensley’s lilac scent on him. He was carrying her diamond bracelet
in his pocket. You were right about him wanting you out of the way so he could
get to me. I would have been his third victim.”

“Third?”

“He
also killed my father.”

Alex
shook his head, trying to grasp it all. “But I thought …”

“I
know. I did, too. Nobody knew, and I never questioned his death, never even
suspected.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I should have.”

Alex
recognized her feelings of guilt. He reached out and stroked her arm. “Why did
Tilden do it?”

“He
was obsessed with my stepmother. They met back in New York, and he ended up in
prison for beating a man she’d only conversed with. He thought of her as his
property with no rights of her own. She escaped him, moving as far from New York as she could, but even so, after he was released from prison, he tracked her here.
He was too late, though. When he discovered she was dead, he blamed my father
and me and decided we had to die, too.”

“Thank
heaven he didn’t finish what he started.”

She
glanced away, a troubled look on her face.

“What?
Did something else happen?”

She
shivered and touched her ruffled collar. “He attempted to strangle me, too.”

Alex
felt his blood boil. With shaking hands, he pushed her hand away, undid the top
two buttons of her shirtwaist, and gently drew the collar away from her neck.
Her perfect skin was an angry red blotched with darkening bruises.