Renee Ryan - The Marriage Agreement

Jonathon followed the direction of her gaze and felt his gut take a slow, curling roll. Fanny was working her charms on Mrs. Singletary, directing the widow through the ballroom. Even dressed simply in a black, high-collared dress, Fanny exuded grace and elegance. Rather than detract, the lack of color in her clothing emphasized her natural beauty.

He watched, fascinated, as she pointed to the chandelier he’d had recently installed. Beneath the glow of a thousand flickering electric lights, her blue-green eyes sparkled with pleasure.

Jonathon blinked, unable to tear his gaze free of all that joy, all that beauty. He’d spent too many years surrounded by ugliness not to appreciate the way she’d scooped her silky blond curls in some sort of fancy twist atop her head. A few errant strands tumbled free, framing her exquisite oval face.

Fanny Mitchell was one of the Lord’s greatest works of art.

She captivated him. In truth, she’d intrigued him from their first meeting. If any woman could entice him to reconsider his opinion on marriage, it would be Fanny Mitchell.

And yet, because he admired her so much, liked her even, she was the last woman he would consider pursuing romantically.

She’d become indispensable to him. Here , at the hotel. Her personal touches were everywhere. From the elegant yet inviting furniture in the lobby, to the specialty chocolates hand-delivered to the rooms each evening, to the list of Denver attractions provided to each guest at check-in.

As if sensing his gaze on her, she shot him a wink from over her shoulder. His mind emptied of all thought.

Footsteps sounded from the outer hallway, heralding someone’s approach. Jonathon jerked his attention toward the doorway.

His assistant, Burke Galloway, hastened into the ballroom, a scowl on his face. Recognizing the look, Jonathon addressed Miss Ferguson directly. “Will you excuse me a moment?”

“Of course.”

He approached his assistant, a tall, lean young man with dark hair and startling, pale blue eyes. “Is there a problem?”

Burke’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “Joshua Greene is here to see you. I put him in your private office.”

Everything in him went cold. “Which Joshua Greene, father or son?”

Neither man was welcome in the hotel.

“Son.” Burke spoke in a hushed, hurried tone. “He refuses to leave the premises until he’s spoken with you personally.”

What business did his half brother have with him? Jaw tight, Jonathon returned to Miss Ferguson.

“I must bid you good-day, but I leave you in capable hands.” He motioned Burke over. “Miss Ferguson, this is Mr. Galloway. Burke, please show the young woman around the ballroom while I address this other matter.”

Burke’s eyes filled with quiet appreciation. “With pleasure, sir.”

Jonathon adopted a clipped, purposeful pace. He caught Fanny’s eye before exiting the ballroom. She gave him a brief nod. The gesture confirmed that he’d left Mrs. Singletary in capable hands, as well.

Whatever he discovered during his meeting with Josh Greene, Jonathon knew one thing for certain. He had good men and women in his employ, people far more faithful to him than the father and half brother who’d dismissed him the one time he’d reached out for their help.

He’d come a long way since those dark, hopeless days of surviving alone on the backstreets of Denver by any means possible. He was a success in his own right now, on his own terms. He owed his family nothing.

After a final nod in Fanny’s direction, Jonathon headed out of the ballroom, prepared for the confrontation ahead.

Chapter Two

Jonathon stood near the door, feet spread, hands clasped behind his back. He’d held the position for some time now, waiting for his half brother to stop pacing and state his business.

At seven years his senior, and their father’s sole legitimate heir, Josh had been given all the advantages of a privileged birthright, including an education from the finest schools in the country. Yet the man had nothing to show for his life, other than a string of gambling debts and a miserable marriage.

Always the outward picture of propriety, Josh wore one of his hand-tailored suits. The tall, leanly muscled build, the dark, windswept hair and classically handsome features fooled many.

But Jonathon knew the truth. The outer trappings did not match the inner man.

Like recognizes like , he thought, a harsh reminder of the things he’d done to drag himself out of poverty. Though his choices had been about survival, at least at first, he would still have much to answer for when he faced the Lord. Sobering thought.

His brother finally paused, turned and studied him intently. Jonathon matched the rude regard with unflinching patience, a strategy he often adopted to ferret out a business opponent’s underlying agenda.

Far stronger men than his brother had buckled under the calculated silence. Josh proved no more immune to the tactic than others before him.

“I need money,” he blurted out.

With slow, deliberate movements, Jonathon unclasped his hands and balanced evenly on both feet. The irony of the situation was almost laughable.

I need money . Those were the exact same words Jonathon had uttered to his father twenty years ago in a final, desperate attempt to save his dying mother’s life.

Resentment flared.

Jonathon struggled to contain the emotion, reminding himself he was no longer that helpless boy facing an uncertain future. He had power and wealth now.

He answered to no one but God.

“How much did you lose at the faro tables this time?”

Josh’s mouth went flat. “I don’t need the money for a gambling debt, I need it for—”

He broke off midsentence. His gaze darted around the room, landing nowhere in particular. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Not wanting to extend this conversation longer than necessary, Jonathon frowned at the request.

Without waiting for a response, Josh sat.

After settling in one of the wingback chairs facing away from the door, he rubbed an unsteady hand across his face. “Lily is with child.”

Every muscle in Jonathon’s back coiled and tightened. “Your wife’s name is Amanda.”

The other man sighed heavily. “Lily is my mistress.”

Jonathon went very still. The son had followed in the father’s footsteps. Inevitable, he supposed.

And he walked in all the sins of his father, which he had done before him...

Throat tight, Jonathon tried to empty his mind, but a distant memory shimmered to life. His mother, sitting in a tattered dress falling apart at the seams, tears running down her cheeks as she anxiously waited for the tall, distinguished man to return as he’d promised.

Even in her darkest days, when money had been scarce and she’d been forced to turn to prostitution to feed them both, Amelia Hawkins had continued hoping her lover would finally leave his wife.

That day had never come.

Jonathon had been too young back then, barely five, to remember much about the man whose visits had stopped so abruptly and left his mother in permanent despair. Only later, when he’d been sixteen, had he discovered that the venerable Judge Joshua Greene had been his mother’s paramour. And Jonathon’s father.

Josh’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I need money to set Lily up in a small house of her own. I’ll repay you, of course, when I’m able.”

A spurt of anger ignited in Jonathon’s chest. He moved to a spot behind his desk. Rather than sit, he remained standing, mostly to prove to himself he was still in control of his emotions. “Why come to me? Why not go to your father?”

Josh shook his head. “I can’t. He warned me Lily would try to trap me with a child.”