Charity House Courtship. Renee Ryan

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      Her throat tightened at the very idea. “You... Mr. Dupree, you can’t do that.”

      “Can’t I?”

      “But you...” Her mind raced for a solution to this new, awful threat of his. “You promised to give me a chance to explain.”

      “Indeed, I did.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do proceed with your explanation, Miss O’Connor.”

      Her gaze automatically tracked toward Hank. Standing partly in the shadows the big man appeared deeply enthralled with his thumbnail.

      Laney sighed. “Very well. The gentleman gave me that money for—”

      She cut off her own the words, remembering Judge Greene’s adamant request. Never reveal who gave you this money, Miss O’Connor. Or why.

      She’d given her word. Yet, due to no fault of her own, she’d already violated a portion of her promise. She could not reveal the rest.

      “Joshua Greene gave you the money for...” Dupree prompted.

      Laney pressed her lips tightly shut. How to respond?

      Think, Laney. Think.

      In the ensuing silence, Dupree motioned to Hank. The other man dropped his hand and strode out of the room without a single glance in her direction.

      With only the two of them left, a thick blanket of tension fell over the room. Laney prayed for divine intervention.

      Please, Lord, show me a way out of this quandary.

      No quick solution came to mind. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the room from the perspective of a captive—searching for a route of escape. There was no back door, only a small window high above the floor just to the left of the large desk.

      Tossing a smile in Dupree’s direction, Laney sidled in the direction of the window as nonchalantly as possible.

      The size was right, but she’d never make it through the tiny opening in her borrowed dress. Perhaps there was still hope. Having eyed an armoire before setting out, she moved back to the other side of the room, and then threw open the cabinet doors.

      “What’s this? Several sets of trousers and shirts?” She slanted Dupree a look over her shoulder. “Don’t you keep a room for yourself here in the hotel?”

      He didn’t answer her question directly. “As I’m sure you’ve already concluded, Miss O’Connor, there are no additional exits in this room.”

      “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

      A patronizing grin slid onto his lips. “Naturally.”

      How she hated his condescension. The sneering attitude reminded Laney of Thurston P. Prescott III, the banker who’d refused to give her more time on the remaining portion of her loan. All because of a cold, judgmental heart.

      Suppressing a scowl, she closed the cabinet doors and twirled in another slow circle. “Oh, my. You have a fireplace. I say, Dupree, your office is exceedingly well furnished.”

      “I like nice things.”

      “Of course you do.”

      She doubted a wealthy man like him knew what it meant to be penniless and scared, never knowing when the next meal would come. But Laney did. As did the children whose mothers had sent them to her orphanage for safekeeping.

      Laney had pledged to those women that she would provide every child living in Charity House a Christian upbringing, the comfort of a warm bed and the promise of three meals a day. She would not fail them simply because a suspicious hotel owner had misread her transaction with a prominent judge in town.

      Drawing confidence from the thought of her honorable mission, Laney made her way to the fireplace mantel. She immediately took note of the tin photographs arranged haphazardly across the handcrafted stone.

      How odd, she thought. The man leaning against the door, watching her through narrowed eyes, couldn’t possibly have loved ones. And yet, photographs meant family and friends. Drawn to one image in particular, Laney ran her finger along the pretty gold frame.

      Concentrating on the photograph beneath her hand, she looked from the stunning woman smiling up at her, to Dupree, then back again. The resemblance was uncanny. Was this his sister? No. He seemed too hard to have a sister.

      And Laney was wasting valuable time.

      Glancing to the heavens, she prayed for guidance. How do I proceed, Lord? What do I say to protect Charity House and the children?

      “Enough stalling, Miss O’Connor.” Dupree pushed away from the door and made his approach. “Your failure to explain your actions here tonight speaks volumes. As such, the money you accepted from Judge Greene will remain secure in my safe, and you will wait in this office while I go in search of the man myself.”

      No longer caring about pride, or dignity, Laney met Dupree halfway across the room. “Please, I beg you. Don’t involve Joshua in this.”

      “So now it’s Joshua, is it?”

      “I meant...Judge Greene.” The correction came too late. She saw the censure in Dupree’s eyes.

      “I’m afraid, Miss O’Connor, Joshua involved himself—and consequently me—when he agreed to meet you in my hotel. Since I imagine he’s smart enough not to use his real name on the register, I must ask an indelicate question. Which room is he waiting for you in?”

      Laney stifled a groan that rose up in her throat.

      This man seemed determined to think the worst of her. With very little evidence, he actually believed Judge Greene had rented a room in this hotel with the express purpose of spending the evening with her.

      Laney would be insulted if Dupree wasn’t so completely incorrect.

      Then again...

      Perhaps his mistake was a blessing. Perhaps Laney could use this man’s ugly assumption of her character to her advantage.

      Why not buy herself some much needed time while he went on his search. A search that would prove highly unsuccessful.

      “Joshua is in room...” she paused, blinked, and then pretended to accept defeat at last “...912.”

      For an endless moment, Dupree studied her face. Laney held her breath. The look of disappointment in his eyes—disappointment in her—nearly made her rethink her plan.

      Should she tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand her situation. Maybe he would care.

      And maybe Marc Dupree was no different than the shady banker demanding his money before their agreed upon deadline. Simply because he thought the children in her orphanage didn’t deserve a safe home in which to live. Not because they were bad children, but because of how their mothers chose to earn their living.

      A living that Marc Dupree had accused Laney of conducting here tonight.

      No. СКАЧАТЬ