Glorious Angel (24 page)

“You’re trying my patience, Zachary!” Bradford interrupted. “Husbands and wives argue occasionally. What has that to do with Father’s attack?”

“It was what we were arguing about, Bradford. Or rather—who we were arguing about,” Zachary replied in a weak voice, avoiding his brother’s cold regard.

Bradford drained his glass as if it were filled with spring water. But the fiery liquid seemed to add a brighter fire to his eyes as they bore into Zachary’s.

“I presume you mean Angela?” Bradford asked, though he knew the answer.

“Yes, it was about Angela. Crystal showed me that letter she found—Charissa Sherrington’s letter. She told me she’d read it to you, but needn’t have gone to the trouble, since Angela ran off with Grant Marlowe. She said Angela had been
your
mistress after she’d tired of Robert, and that’s why you went after her. Crystal threw all this in my face to explain why she wouldn’t let me—why she wouldn’t conceive children in this house—a house of incest.”

“My God!” Bradford exclaimed, his body going rigid. “And Father heard all this?”

“Yes. We heard him collapse then. He—”

“Did he fall down the stairs?” Bradford interrupted.

“No, but he was dead when we reached him.”

“So Crystal’s jealousy and hate killed my father!” Bradford’s voice was only a whisper, but filled with such intensity that Zachary trembled.

“For God’s sake, Bradford! It was an accident. Don’t you think I regret it? And Crystal does too!
I—I beat her that night. It was something I should have done a long time ago. She has stayed to her room ever since, except for the funeral.”

“Which was when?”

“A week ago,” Zachary replied, his eyes downcast. “We couldn’t wait. We didn’t know when you would return.”

A tense silence fell between them. Bradford stood by the liquor cabinet, the empty glass still clenched in his hand. His hard gaze no longer rested on his brother, but on his father’s desk. Zachary could only guess at half the murderous thoughts that filled his mind.

Zachary finally spoke again, unable to bear the ominous quiet. “Father’s will hasn’t been read yet.” When Bradford didn’t look at him, he went on quickly. “Jim McLaughlin is executor. Seems Father made a new will the day Jim arrived here. It wasn’t necessary for you to be present, but we all agreed to wait until you came back.”

“How thoughtful,” Bradford remarked coldly and started for the door. Without once looking back at his brother, he continued, “Have it done with this afternoon. I’m not staying in this house any longer than I have to.” And then he was gone, leaving Zachary giddy with relief, but still trembling.

Thirty-five

Jim McLaughlin cleared his throat and looked slowly around the room to be sure that all who had been summoned were present. He was wishing that Jacob Maitland had not made him executor.

Bradford, especially, would not be happy with some of the conditions of the will. Jacob had asserted his power even beyond death.

Two of Jacob’s beneficiaries would not be present today. His mistress would not force herself on his grieving family. And Angela Sherrington had disappeared.

Jim sighed. He would have to find Miss Sherrington before his job would be over with. He hoped Bradford had been successful in discovering her whereabouts on his trip West. He would have to talk to him about that later.

“If there are no objections, I will begin,” Jim began.

“First, I would like to say that this last will and testament is wholly legal.” He read:

I, Jacob Maitland, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, and not acting under duress, coercion, or undue influence of any person whomsoever, do make and declare this instrument as my last will and testament, hereby revoking all wills and codicils previously made by me.

First: I direct that all debts owed me shall not be canceled with my death, but shall henceforth be owed to my son, Bradford Maitland.

Second: To certain colleges that I…

Bradford let his mind wander while Jim McLaughlin read off the colleges, charities and institutions, employees, friends, and the like. Bradford thought of the brief hour he had spent with Candise and Robert, listening to the details of the funeral and their account of Jacob’s death. Zachary had apparently not told them the real cause of his father’s death.

Bradford had already decided to turn over Golden Oaks and the plantation to Zachary, if indeed his father had left that decision to him. He never wanted to see Golden Oaks again. Too many recent memories were here, memories that
only fueled his rage. He didn’t know exactly what he would do now. He wanted to go to Texas, to the ranch he loved, but that was impossible now.

Tenth: To my housekeeper, Hannah, who has been a loyal and trusted servant, I bequeath the sum of five thousand dollars, and the two acres of land known as Willow Farm, to which she may retire at any time henceforth, or retain her position at Goldens Oaks for as long as she wishes.

Bradford smiled at Hannah’s stunned expression. Father was always generous with those who served him.

Eleventh: I bequeath the sum of five hundred thousand dollars to Zachary Maitland, and an additional twenty thousand dollars to be allocated each year for the remainder of his life, and the Hotel Rush located in London, England, and to any legitimate offspring that he shall sire, the sum of five thousand dollars each year for female offspring; the sum of ten thousand dollars each year for male offspring, to be kept in trust until said offspring become of age.

Twelfth: I bequeath the sum of five thousand dollars to Crystal Maitland, to be allocated each year for the remainder of her life, with the stipulation that she bear a legitimate offspring within two years after my death.

Bradford smiled when he heard Crystal gasp. He noted that Zachary was smiling, too. Crystal would now have to submit to her husband in bed—rather like a paid whore, Bradford thought with dry humor.

He realized suddenly that he no longer hated Zachary, but pitied him. Bradford was thankful now that Zachary had taken the conniving bitch off his hands. To think he had actually loved Crystal once!

He smiled again as Jim continued, leaving ten thousand dollars a year to the widow Caden, his father’s faithful mistress, and a like sum to Robert Lonsdale, who had been almost a third son. But everything turned red in his mind when Angela Sherrington’s name was pronounced. He didn’t hear Jim’s words, or Hannah’s gleeful chuckle at the back of the room, or Crystal’s second loud gasp. Bradford heard none of this as the picture of Angela flashed across his mind, a loose sheet wrapped around her naked body, Grant’s arms about her, her lips clinging to his. Bitch! Whore! Had they just finished making love, or were they just about to? It didn’t matter. He should have killed them both as he had wanted to when he opened the door and found them in bed together.

What had she said once? “You are going to have to trust me more than you do, Bradford,” and “I’ll never leave you again. It’s you I love—no other.” The lying slut! Bradford Maitland
would never trust another woman as long as he lived.

“Well, Bradford, it’s all yours now. How does it feel to be a millionaire?”

Bradford glanced up, Jim McLaughlin’s question breaking into his thoughts. He saw that they were alone in the study now. The reading of his father’s will was over.

“It feels no different than it’s always felt,” Bradford replied, bored. “It’s a waste of money to have so much of it.”

Jim McLaughlin couldn’t complain about his own state of affairs. Being one of Maitland Enterprises’ most important lawyers, his yearly income was substantial. He was well on the way to becoming a millionaire himself.

“At any rate,” Jim continued in his business voice, “I have here a copy of your father’s will, as well as a detailed list of all his holdings. No doubt you are already aware of all that Maitland Enterprises encompasses, having been in control of your father’s interests for many years now. But your father believed that land was wealth and he acquired quite a bit of it over the years. As a matter of fact, you now own properties all over the world.”

“Properties that I will probably never even see,” Bradford said.

“Does that really matter?” Jim asked. “Most of these properties bring in sizable incomes, and they provide jobs for many. You have hardly
taken an attitude your father would approve of.”

“I suppose I haven’t,” Bradford replied. “But I find there is no longer any challenge in making money, when I already have more than enough of it. What if I should give it all away and make my own fortune?”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” Jim said firmly. “As it states in your father’s will, all of his holdings must remain in the family. They can be sold, of course, but not given away. And if you choose to relinquish your inheritance, then it will all go to Zachary.”

Bradford gritted his teeth. No, it would not go to Zachary, not as long as Crystal was his wife. He would have to resign himself to being in complete control of the Maitland millions, just as his father had wished.

“What are your plans now, Bradford?”

“I suppose my only course is to leave for New York tomorrow morning. I might as well get back into the business,” Bradford said reluctantly.

“So you no longer plan to control things from Texas?” Jim ventured.

“No!” Bradford replied quickly and a bit harshly, his eyes suddenly turning amber.

Jim eyed the brooding young man carefully. Something was definitely troubling Bradford, and he was in no mood to be questioned about it. Jim had expected Bradford to fly into a rage when he heard the conditions of his inheritance. But
Bradford hadn’t appeared to be listening.

“Well, I will be returning to New York myself, just as soon as I can find Miss Sherrington,” Jim said as he stood up from behind Jacob’s desk. “Did you have any luck discovering her whereabouts?”

Bradford did not answer immediately. He was trying hard to keep his raging temper in check. When he finally spoke, he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

“I last saw Miss Sherrington in Nacogdoches, but I have reason to believe you will be able to find her at the JB ranch. She will undoubtedly be there with her current lover, my foreman, Grant Marlowe.”

Jim was speechless. Miss Sherrington and Bradford had seemed quite attached not long ago. That was shocking in itself because he knew of Bradford’s engagement to Candise Taylor.

“Here are the papers I spoke of earlier,” Jim said, coming around the desk to hand them to Bradford. “There is also a personal letter from your father that he asked me to give you after the will was read. I will leave you alone to read it. We will see each other again before you leave, I’m sure.”

Bradford waited until Jim had left the room before he opened his father’s letter. He read it slowly, the words on each page jumping up at him like little demons. It was impossible that his father could be asking him to do the one thing he
could never do. It was also hypocritical of him. He always said he would not force his wishes on his children.

Now Bradford had a deeper sorrow to bear, for he would not, he
could
not possibly fulfill his father’s last wish. Jacob was asking too much.

This room where his father had spent so much time over the past twenty-two years seemed to hold Jacob’s presence. Bradford stared fixedly at the desk and the empty chair behind it—
empty
. Uncaring, his control dissolved and a tear slid down his cheek, followed by another.

It was a long time before Bradford left the study.

Thirty-six

Under the torrid western sun, the stagecoach bounced along the hard dirt, each bump hitting the passengers harder than the one before. The cramped interior was stifling, the journey apparently endless.

The passengers, all strangers, seemed content to remain that way, except for one inordinately cheerful woman who was traveling with her husband, an austere-looking minister who was sound asleep beside her. The middle-aged woman, who introduced herself as Aggie Bauer, was plump and dressed in heavy black traveling clothes. She seemed not to mind the oppressive heat, the jolting ride, or the fact that nobody spoke to her.