Blind Trust Read Online Free PDF Page A

suggest you follow our original plan. The company will be showing great profits this spring, I promise you. I’m in the process of adding some sizable new properties.”
    Darcy rotated one foot, which was beginning to sting with pins and needles. Perhaps she should go. The conversation was not very enlightening. So her father was in business with Claude. Although the knowledge had shocked her initially, it made sense to her now. Why shouldn’t her father take advantage of her husband’s expertise?
    Then Claude spoke, and with a beating heart she leaned closer to the door. It was a tone she recognized, and she was shocked to hear him speak to her father with such murderous, icy contempt, the contempt $hat never failed to chill her blood. “Edward, need I tell you the reasons you should follow my advice?”
    â€œOf course not,” Edward said carefully. “You are one of the richest men in New York, and you’ve gained your fortune yourself, without benefit of blood contacts—”
    â€œNo. That’s not what I was referring to, dear father.” Darcy imagined how Edward would disguise his distaste for the affectionate term. But Claude had used it deliberately; he hated any reference to his low birth, even one so gentle as Edward’s. She heard the clink of glass, and knew Edward had poured himself another brandy.
    â€œI was referring to a Monsieur Andre Maubert,” Claude said.
    The glass hit the table with a clatter. “Who?” Edward asked, his voice desperately trying to convey a naturalness Darcy knew he did not feel.
    â€œAh, you don’t remember. He was the French footman in your house. Your wife was still living with you then. A handsome fellow. He left before she ran away with James Fitzchurch.”
    â€œHe found another position, a better one, in Europe—” Edward blubbered.
    â€œAnd I’ve always wondered,” Claude continued, his voice silky now, “whose departure you were mourning when they both left so close to each other. And who you were thinking of when you took to your bed. Servants talk, Edward. It’s sad, isn’t it? And servants often see things they shouldn’t. Like a parlormaid by the name of Annie O’Day. She was fired from this house, of course. She took certain papers with her, letters …”
    Edward’s voice was a whisper. “Claude—”
    â€œSo tell me, Edward. Do you truly think this investment with Mr. Finn, this continuing association, is good for us?”
    â€œClaude, I beg you …”
    â€œOr will you entrust yourself to my hands? The way we always worked together, Edward. From the very day I entered your drawing room and saw your daughter. And you sold her to me.”
    A mournful moan, torn from an anguished throat, shuddered through the door. It took several long seconds for Darcy to realize the animal sound had come from her father.
    â€œYou are my property, Edward,” Claude said over the sound of brandy slurping into a glass. “Don’t forget that.”
    The room was so quiet Darcy was certain she heard the brandy being gulped down Edward’s throat.
    â€œBut come, come, man, don’t be distressed,” Claude said in that jovial tone she hated. “We’ll be rich, far richer than you ever were, ever dreamed you’d be. And perhaps one day soon I will tell you what you continue to invest in when you invest with me. Yes, I believe I should. Oh, perhaps we should call for more brandy, Edward? You spilled quite a bit.”
    Darcy heard the chairs move, someone try to rise. She heard someone stumble: her father. Then she ran on quick and silent feet to the front door. Gasping, almost blinded with the enormity of what she’d heard, she managed to slip out and run down the stairs.
    The snow ahead of her was unmarked, gleaming white, sparkling like diamonds all the way to the end of Twenty-eighth Street to Fifth Avenue, all the way